Magic After Dark Boxed Set (Six Book Bundle)

by Deanna Chase

  Knox reached into the Jeep and pulled out a cigarette, cupping his hand around the end as a flame poked out of a polished silver lighter. The metal clinked and it was tucked safely in his back pocket. The cigarette, on the other hand, stood no chance against his long, life-sucking drags. Knox threw a heavy hand over Adam’s shoulder and gave it a firm shake.

  “You’re a jackass for not calling. My proctologist keeps in better touch than you do.”

  “You know me, never been one for postcards.”

  Knox threw another glance in my direction. “To be continued.”

  “Knox.” Adam inclined his head. “I was wrong; we were wrong.” He glanced over his shoulder at me but this time I didn’t break eye contact.

  On the drive back, I was running on empty and Adam gave me a look as if he were daring me to ask who that was. So I decided to rest my eyes and think about Max for a little while.

  I stirred when I felt someone hooking their arms beneath my legs; I wanted to open my eyes but I drifted back to sleep.

  That is until I was thumped in the head by something solid. My cheek was pressed against a cold wooden door.

  Adam was struggling to turn the key in the lock while carrying me.

  I stiffened my back so that he would drop me. Honestly, I wasn’t used to being carried around like that.

  “Wait, put me down.”

  “Shhh, go back to sleep, hon.”

  The key turned and Adam cradled me tighter.

  Through tangled lashes I saw his handsome face, that soft ruffled hair and brows that dipped low like a shadow. It felt good to be held. Adam made me feel safe, something no man had ever done.

  There was a glimmer of fire in those bottomless eyes. “Woman, don’t you move a single muscle.”

  “What about my hands?” I mumbled as my eyes closed.

  “I guess you’ll have to keep your hands to yourself. Think you can manage?”

  Versus the alternative of electrocuting my best friend? You bet.

  My head lolled back on his broad shoulder until I felt the cool press of the comforter beneath my body. I was floating on a cloud. The flip-flops were removed from my feet one at a time and something exquisitely soft brushed across my legs.

  Warm breath tickled my face and the bed depressed in two spots. But it wasn’t breath, it was the wind. I was standing on the shore on a moonlit night. The wind called so very close to my ear, but the water was warm and inviting as I moved forward.

  “You awake?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “I’m going to let you sleep tonight.”

  “Mmm.”

  “You hear me?”

  I grunted. The wind was noisy and needed to put a sock in it. I just wanted the silent waters.

  “Tomorrow you’re telling me everything. All of this secrecy ends. It’s time that you learn to trust me, Zoë. Can you do that?”

  My body slipped deeper into the dark and inviting waters, feeling the warmth run up my legs and smother me.

  “Zoë?”

  Waves were lapping over my mouth, brushing my lips with promises. I could feel Adam all around me.

  “Did you hear me? Tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” I promised and completely submersed into the darkness.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning I stretched my muscles into consciousness. My bones, however, creaked in protest.

  Adam stood over me: legs apart, arms folded (shirtless I might add), with the most self-satisfied smile I’d ever seen. Yep, this was definitely going to be the day we had the talk.

  His body was kept in exquisite shape—toned and strong, but not muscular. He acquired strength from the pull-up bar on the back porch and endurance from his morning runs. And when I say runs, I don’t mean jogs. I once caught Adam on the trail and that man was hauling ass, giving those sneakers a run for their money.

  Without a shirt, I could see the V-cut in his lower belly. A jagged scar on his side caught my eye where one of his hands rested.

  “Get dressed,” he said, scratching one of his pecs. He was freshly showered and still flushed from his run.

  I pulled the sheet over my head and grumbled, “You first.”

  While Adam was anxious to know the details of my attack, blood and gore would have to wait until after bacon and eggs.

  Adam ripped the sheet down. “Get up out of that bed or I’ll drag you out.”

  “I want to sleep in.”

  My body nearly catapulted off the edge when Adam sailed over and collapsed beside me.

  “Sounds like a plan. What shall we talk about?”

  I ripped the sheet over him and stormed into the bathroom where I showered up and dug through my bag of clothes. He could be a real pain in the ass when he wanted.

  Unfortunately, my old clothes no longer fit my taller frame. I slid into a pair of distressed jeans and a red, sleeveless blouse, applying a thin layer of peach-scented lotion to my skin. I combed out the tangles of my long, dark hair and gathered it up, neatly pinning it back. My hips were narrow and less hourglass, but there was enough there to keep my jeans from slipping too low. My shoulders were broader than before and my arms slender and toned, even though I never worked out. What stood out the most were my green eyes framed against midnight lashes.

  “Five minutes, almost done,” Adam called out from the kitchen as I sat down to a very lovely table setting.

  The silverware rested on cloth napkins beside the colored plates. He even scooped out the apricot preserve and put it in a pretty crystal dish. Nice touch.

  “What’s the occasion?” I called out, staring at the handpicked wildflowers in the vase with an arched brow.

  He ignored me, whistling a made-up tune.

  Adam strolled in barefoot with a black shirt neatly tucked in a pair of tan slacks.

  “I like the pants,” I said as he set a glass of juice on the table. “I was beginning to think you were having a love affair with Calvin Klein.”

  He looked nice—very put together. Even jazzed it up with a smart leather belt.

  “We agreed to see other people.”

  Adam set down a bowl of strawberries and slid an omelet on my plate.

  “Many women would see you as the holy grail if you didn’t hide yourself in a wilderness retreat. Good looks, good food, so-so sense of humor.”

  Adam turned back to the stove, clearing his throat.

  I didn’t bother to wait before diving in. “This is so delicious,” I said with a full mouth.

  “It’s nice to have someone to cook for.”

  A ladybug crawled across the table from the flowers and spread her wings, threatening to leave. When Adam took his seat, I figured she was enchanted and decided to sit for a spell.

  I turned my neck at the sound of birds stirring up a frenzy outside by the feeder. “You were up early.”

  But Adam didn’t want to talk. Not yet, perhaps not wanting to spoil the breakfast he put so much effort in preparing.

  When we finished, a half strip of bacon sat on a plate between us. I reached for it when the plate disappeared, hovering out of reach.

  “Don’t make me put the hurt on you, give.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl eat as much as you. I don’t know where you put it.”

  True. I hadn’t gained a single ounce since the day we met, and he fed me very well.

  “You trying to tell me I’m a pig?”

  “Just observing your overzealous appetite.” He grinned.

  I waved my fork in the air and narrowed my eyes. “I’ve got a fork and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  “Well then, I’ve got a glow stick and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  “You need to keep that stick in your pants.” I laughed as Adam cleared the table. “You really should quit your day job,” I yelled out. “Open up your own bistro. I could waitress and flirt with the customers, if I’m flirt-worthy.”

  “You’re definitely flirt-worthy. I bet you had to beat the men off with a stic
k.”

  I carried the remaining plates to the sink and stood beside him. He washed, I dried.

  “You saw what a ravishing delight I used to be.” Sarcasm dripped off my tongue. “Sunny was the flirt, I just hung back and observed the master.”

  “Some men prefer beer over a fine wine. That doesn’t mean much.”

  “So what am I in this scenario—the beer or the wine?”

  Adam dropped his chin and frowned. “The wine, of course.”

  “Sunny would kick your ass for calling her beer.”

  “It’s not a put-down. Some girls are the kind that every man appreciates, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  He ran the plate under the faucet, scrubbed it with the bristle sponge, and passed it over to me.

  Part of our perception of our looks is shaped from a lifetime of comments, opinions, and reactions to it. I always knew where I stood before. But now, I had none of that to go on outside of what I saw in the mirror—was I still wine, or was I beer? Hell, maybe now I was moonshine.

  “I’m sorry I slapped you and said what I did,” I said guiltily.

  “Don’t apologize, you were right. I shouldn’t have left you alone like that; you could have been hurt.” There was a delicate stretch of silence. “So who was I chasing?”

  I tensed. Here it was, the moment Adam would decide how farfetched this whole thing really was. He knew what he found and he knew what the paper said, but he didn’t know the whole truth of it.

  “I was crossing a field that night on my way home when someone jumped me.”

  Adam played statue, holding a bowl under the running water but not looking up. Perhaps afraid if he startled me, I might quit talking.

  I continued to dry the plate, every square inch of it.

  Three times.

  As I told him the details of what happened to me, my pulse quickened and I was out of breath. While I had replayed the events in my head a million times, I didn’t realize how much it would still affect me when I actually verbalized it. When I finished, I recapped.

  “I didn’t even hear him come up on me; he just knocked me over and was doing something with our hands.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I don’t know, it was like he was sucking the life out of me, and then it was back. It was electric, like you described. He tried choking me after I kicked him in the groin, but then…”

  “Zoë.” Adam’s expression tightened. The water was no longer on. My name was a single request to keep going.

  “He said he had done the same thing to others and that he was going to make mine so much worse. It hurt, Adam, it hurt so much when he cut my throat with that knife.”

  An angry curse sliced through the conversation.

  It wasn’t mine.

  “You feel it when you die. You just know. My heart stopped and I had this weightless, disconnected sensation.” Remembering Adam’s sister, I didn’t want to give him nightmares. “Once it was done, it was okay. Your soul wants to go… somewhere. I wanted to hold on, too. But there was a familiarity to it. That’s all I remember until I woke up in the body bag.”

  My arms wrapped around my waist. “I don’t know how or why I’m still here. He wasn’t normal; and somehow whatever he did changed me. I don’t think he meant to kill me; that’s the strange part. Do you think he made me this way on purpose?”

  I stood there, trying to remain stoic. I wanted to shut it off like a faucet and just not feel anything.

  Adam captured my hands and wrapped them around his body, pulling me against him. He cradled me and even with the uncertainty of knowing I could hurt him again, he held me with such devotion. I fell against his chest and closed my eyes.

  Adam wiped strands of my hair away from my forehead.

  “Zoë, you can stop being a tough bitch now. Cry if you need to.”

  “I don’t cry in front of people.”

  I was not a crier, especially in front of someone else, because that was showing too much vulnerability, which I wasn’t willing to give anyone.

  “Would it make you feel better to know that I’m going to kill him?”

  The threat hung at the end of the conversation like a stinger on a bee. No more words were spoken, and we remained like that until I felt ready to let go.

  Chapter 8

  It was just after dusk and Adam left the house to run some errands. Earning my keep became an important role, so after polishing the floor to a solid shine, I tucked the mop back into its corner in the hall closet and looked up. There were three rows of high shelves. Adam put the stupid cleaners on the top shelf. Because I wanted to scrub out some of the grime that dripped to the bottom of the fridge, I dragged one of the small kitchen chairs over and climbed up.

  Just as my fingers reached for the lemon-scented cleaner, the metal legs slid across the wet floor and away from my feet.

  I grabbed one of the shelves and it snapped away from the wall, sending all the contents spilling to the floor. Luckily, the metal toolkit broke my fall and I cringed as the top-shelf items of batteries, nails, and screws showered over me like shrapnel.

  When the last screw rolled to a stop, I looked around. What a mess.

  There was an unexpected knock at the front door.

  “Hold on!” I called out, thinking Adam forgot the keys to the house. I flicked a few nails that had stuck to my arm and cursed at the board on the floor that used to be a shelf. He’s going to kill me.

  More impatient knocking.

  “Okay, I’m coming,” I said in annoyance. I winced when I stood up—my shoulder cried out and I kicked a few of the screws in the closet.

  When I swung the door open to apologize to Adam—before he even saw the catastrophe—my jaw hung silent.

  The gun show was in town and I was getting the private tour. Two giant biceps were swallowed up a sleeveless white shirt. I looked up at a steel expression, as if his skin had been pulled taut over a thick jaw and broad cheekbones. Knox gave his greeting with a thin-lipped grin. He wore the same black cap snug to his head, and black hair peeked out around the edges.

  “I don’t think we were properly introduced,” he said without moving those folded arms. There was no attempt to shake my hand.

  Blocking the doorway with my body, I blew out an agitated, “Can I help you?”

  He dropped his arms but his smile remained fixed. “I’m Knox. I’m an old friend of Raz—Adam. And you are?”

  My eyes arrowed to the shadow of a weapon beneath his shirt. “Is he expecting you?”

  “Is he around? I need to talk to him.”

  “He’s busy,” I lied. When I shouldered the door closed, his oversized boot wedged inside of the open space.

  Knox shook his head. “Adam isn’t here.”

  “How do you know? Because the only balls I see on you aren’t crystal.”

  Knox snorted and actually shifted his balls. I averted my eyes at the gesture. “Adam would never let anyone else answer his own door. I didn’t get your name.

  “Then wait outside; he didn’t tell me you were coming, so you’re not invited.”

  “He’s not expecting me, true. I know I’m intimidating, but fuck, I’m as harmless as—” Knox quieted as he leaned over my shoulder, craning his head around the door to look behind me. “What the fff—”

  I was brushed to the side and stumbled over my feet when the door swung open. Knox signed, sealed, and delivered his own invitation as he marched into the kitchen and loomed in front of the closet. His combat-style boots stopped short of the fallen chair, broken shelf, and scattered tools. Knox twisted his large body around, gripping something beneath his shirt.

  “Are you alone?” Not waiting for an answer, his eyes scoped the house.

  “Not anymore.”

  Well, the invitation situation was now a moot point. I closed the door behind me and walked into the kitchen, glaring at the new visitor.

  “The chair slid out from under me when I was rehearsing for my strip routine.”

>   Knox wasn’t listening; he slanted his eyes, staring out the back window. “You sure about that?”

  The legs of the chair slammed on the floor as my best fake smile played across my face. “Can I offer you some tasty refreshments?”

  That broke the tension. Knox huffed out a laugh and strolled back into the kitchen, pulling his shirt down. “You aren’t exactly the kind of woman I pictured Adam falling for.”

  I laughed back and pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge. “I’m not his woman.”

  “Damn shame to hear that,” he said as he slid his wide frame into the tiny chair. It quivered beneath his weight and looked about as frightened as an inanimate object could.

  “Let’s go into the living room before you give that chair a heart attack.”

  I set his beer down on the coffee table, easing back against the sofa while picking at the label on my bottle. “So how do you two know each other?”

  The beer let out a sigh of relief, as did the chair he collapsed in—Adam’s black leather, ass-pampering seductress of comfort. Knox didn’t just sit in the chair, he eclipsed it.

  I waited while he knocked back half the bottle. “We served together.”

  “Military?” That would explain a lot about Adam’s behavior.

  “He didn’t tell you, huh? How long you guys been… not dating?” He smirked. Yet it was not a casual question.

  I could see why Adam would click with Knox; he was an extremely likable guy once you got past all of the bulk and attitude. What particularly interested me is that most people automatically assume a guy of his size is all brawn and no brain, but there was intellect behind his eyes, and he was analyzing every answer I gave, making me more self-conscious. With the mention of military I might have assumed front lines—Marine. But intelligence was more like it.

  “He’s just helping me out. I’m between jobs right now and he’s letting me stay here for a while.” I tried to twist off my cap but a sharp pain sliced through my shoulder. I grimaced as my muscles gave a silent warning not to try that again.

  Knox leaned over and snatched my beer, popping off the lid as easily as a six-hundred-pound gorilla would crack a peanut. “If you don’t have a home, what were you doing at those apartments?”