by Holley Trent
She closed her eyes and kissed back. She practically melted into him, molding her body against his strong one, but he held her up.
And she’d stopped shaking.
Whether he’d meant it as a diversionary tactic, she couldn’t say, but when he kissed like that she didn’t want the embrace to ever end. Still, he pulled back first. He kissed her lips again, this time chastely. He kissed the tip of her nose. He kissed her forehead. He kissed the backs of her hands.
“I do love you, and you’d best never forget that.”
She pressed her forehead to his chest again, and he held her hands tight. “I won’t.”
“Good. You look pretty, by the way. I’m sorry you’re wasting your energy on him. For this.”
Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. She’d combed her hair all the way through for once and had dug an eyeliner pencil and tube of mascara out of her cosmetics bag. She’d found the one shirt in her suitcase that she’d never worn while working the deep fryer. It was a loose peasant style and made of a dusty rose fabric. “I’ve never cleaned up for you, have I?”
He chuckled, and the low rumble from his chest seemed to warm her to her soul. “We’ve got plenty of time for that. I haven’t exactly put my best foot forward, either. I bet you wouldn’t believe I actually own a decent pair of shoes.”
“Do you? When’s the last time you wore them?”
“John’s and Ariel’s wedding. There’ve been a lot of weddings lately.”
“Did you wear a tux?” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and stifled a moan. God, he must have looked fine as hell in a suit. He and his brothers were just built well for them.
“Yes, I wore a tux and a legitimate tie.”
She made a sound halfway between a groan and a whimper. “Are there pictures?” She leaned back to look in his eyes again, and was sure her own eyes were half bulging. If there was a god or goddess beyond Agatha who gave a shit about her and had power over such material things, there had to be fucking pictures.
“A few.” He grinned. “I’ll show you tonight.”
She dropped his hands. “Well, let’s get this over with. Where are the wolves? What’s the plan?”
“If I had known a bit of suit porn would motivate you so, I would have incentivized you with it days ago.” He gave her a hard swat on the bottom that had her hopping to attention and starting for the corner.
“Porn in general is motivating to a lot of people. Suit porn, though …” She shuddered as she walked toward the two wiry men leaning against the late-model Datsun. If a car could be rode hard and put away wet, that one had been.
Twice.
It had a door that didn’t match, the hood had a dent that looked suspiciously like the shape of a McDonald’s sign, and it had more rust than paint. The car might have been blue once. She couldn’t tell.
“If suit porn doesn’t actually exist, it should. Someone should start an Internet fundraiser.”
Claude chuckled, and grabbed her hand as they approached. “This is Ben and Scott, two of Sweetie’s and Calvin’s numerous cousins. They don’t look like much, but they’re trustworthy. They’re the guys who figured out identity of the woman who freed Ross. They don’t take kindly to their own people fucking them over.”
They came to a halt and the two men waved.
Gail waved back. “How’s Sweetie?” she asked them.
One of them—Ben, judging by the red embroidery on the pocket of his work shirt—cringed. “Oh, she’s rough. Can’t talk no sense into her, but that’s normal for her. The not-so-normal part is that her momma can’t even get her into the house. She’s wilder than a grizzly bear and probably smells just as nice.”
Yikes. She felt bad for snapping at the poor woman the day she’d gone back to the mountains. Sweetie really couldn’t help herself. “How long is this supposed to last?”
“Forever, or until she takes a mate,” Scott said. “Hopefully by the time the pretty princess lowers herself to do so, she won’t be too far gone. Most dudes don’t want to hook up with a bitch for real, you know. Ah-wooooo.” He made a little howling noise as if Gail wouldn’t catch the drift otherwise.
Yeah. She kinda understood now why Sweetie was so opposed to dipping into the wolf gene pool. Sure, the guys were nice to look at, but that whole stuck-on-stupid thing could potentially be a problem.
She shifted her weight. “So, you two have never met Shaun? He wouldn’t recognize you?”
They both shook their heads. “No, ma’am,” Ben said. “Ross wouldn’t recognize us, either, since we weren’t part of the crew that guarded him. We didn’t get called about it until after he disappeared, and that was because we’re the best hunters.”
She shrugged. They seemed qualified enough. “So, what’s the plan?”
“We’re going to play this loose,” Claude said. “But in a nutshell, I’ll keep my distance. Shaun may know me as one of the people Ross wants to get out of the way, but as far as I know, he doesn’t know we’re together. If he did, he wouldn’t have called you. Let’s keep him in the dark on that. Ben or Scott will be parked nearby and keep their windows down. If Shaun seems uncomfortable with that, tell him that’s your ride home. Scott or Ben will trail Shaun later—”
“In that car?” She crooked a thumb toward it. It wasn’t much, but it was easy to recognize.
“Nope,” Scott said. “We’ve got a second car parked at the lot already. One of us will drive you away, and the other in the less noticeable car will follow him.”
Maybe these guys were smarter than she’d given them credit for.
Ben let out a belch that could have sank the East Coast into the Atlantic, and she changed her mind.
He thumped his chest and said, “Fuckin’ ’scuse me. It was that teriyaki beef jerky.”
• • •
Gail was feeling pretty confident until they actually turned into the shopping mall lot. She was glad she’d refused breakfast back at Clarissa’s, because as it was, the bit of coffee she’d had was trying to eat a hole in her belly. If she didn’t have an ulcer or two by the time this was all done, then she was more magical than she’d given herself credit for.
She checked her surroundings once more making sure all players were in place. There was Claude in his Jeep parked several rows over. Scott was parked across the lane in the Datsun. He’d backed into the space, and now relaxed with the window open, tapping his hand against the car door to the beat of Lynyrd Skynyrd.
Ben. She eased off the front bumper of the convertible and stood on tiptoes to see over the rows of cars. Where was he?
He must have known she was looking for, because a car horn sounded from several rows away. She waved tentatively and he honked again to confirm.
She breathed out a relieved sigh and leaned against the hood. They could all see her, and she knew where they all were, approximately.
Showtime. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner she could see those wedding pictures. There hadn’t been any professional photos from her ill-fated wedding. Shaun had been in charge of hiring the photographer, and when one didn’t show on the day of the event, he got angry at her. He said he didn’t remember that being his job, and raged on and on for at least ten minutes before one of the groomsmen fetched him from the bridal suite.
She should have left then—called the whole thing off.
But she couldn’t. Now, she knew why that was—it was his magic, clouding her judgment and making her think everything was okay, even when nothing was. At the time, she couldn’t get sufficiently worked up about the situation, although Ellery had. Of all people, Ellery should have been the person to protest the union when the minister asked the congregation if anyone had objections, but her sister had only grumbled, “It’s your life,” and sniffled.
She’d sniffled all the way through the ceremony, the reception, and was still sniffling when Gail checked in during her whirlwind honeymoon in Tampa.
Gail activated her text message screen and typed in C
laude’s number. She hadn’t memorized a phone number in at least five years besides her own, but for some odd reason that one stuck in her memory.
Maybe he won’t come, she messaged Claude.
After about thirty seconds, Claude responded, He’ll come.
Of course, she knew that. She was hoping he’d give her permission to toss in the towel and mosey along. No such luck.
A flashy silver SUV pulled into the lot, and Gail didn’t have to see through the windshield to know who was in it. The approach of the vehicle raised every hair on her body. It slowed to a stop ten feet from where she stood.
A grinning blonde honked and waved at Gail as Shaun jumped down from the passenger seat.
Gail didn’t wave back.
Shaun jogged over with his arms extended as if for a hug, and Gail leaned back away from him. Really, he was going to try to touch her? How fucking brazen was he? She wouldn’t put it past him to try to siphon off a bit of her mojo and hurl it back at her as a weapon. Just because she was now aware of his craft didn’t mean she could protect herself from it. Not yet, anyway. That was advanced magic, and the kind of practice her grandmother could have never taught her because it wasn’t neatly spelled out in books. According to Claude, defensive magic was wild and intuitive. She was too uptight for it.
“I’ve got the title here in my purse,” she said and didn’t bother smoothing the burrs from her tone. He’d used up her stockpile of sweetness, and she was scraping the bottom of the barrel to not smack him hard across the face.
She had one mind to do it—to hit him so fucking hard he felt a hint of the Hell he’d be going to one day, but alas, strategy. Shaun may have been her problem, but Ross was Claude’s. If she could help eliminate the threat of him, she would, because she liked the folks at Mortonville. For the first time in her life, she felt like somebody and like she belonged somewhere. They’d welcomed her in spite of her numerous imperfections and treated her as if she had value.
Maybe she’d never be enough witch, or woman, for Claude, but at least now she knew she had some fight in her. So help her, gods, she’d never snuff that fire ever again.
“Well,” Shaun said. “Hello to you, too, and thank you—I’m fine.” He grinned, and once upon a time she might have found it alluring, but now he reminded her far too much of a snake with straight white teeth. She wanted to relieve him of a few of them.
Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and cleared her throat. Rocking back onto her heels, she said, “Listen, I need to go to work, so I’m sorry if I can’t stay and chat.”
“Oh? Where are you working now?”
As if he didn’t know. He was such a bad actor with the way he cocked his head to the side and widened those dishwater gray eyes. Her right hand itched to blacken one, and she didn’t even care if she broke a couple of fingers in the process. She wasn’t generally prone to violence, but the moment he’d jumped down from that truck, something in her had snapped.
Maybe it was the knowledge of him siphoning magic off her for all those years—that his touch was more devastating than that of at least three incubi she knew. Funny how that had worked out.
“Same place I’ve been at for the past couple of years.” She opened her purse and rooted through the contents, around her stun gun and pepper spray, past the switchblade someone—probably Marion—had dropped inside, over her wallet, and felt the tri-folded document. She pulled it out and smoothed it atop the car hood. “Voila.”
She dodged reflexively when his hand neared her right ear and felt static building up in her hands. She shook them. Wild magic. There it was.
He chuckled and dropped his arm. “You didn’t used to be sensitive about your hair being touched.”
Because she hadn’t been allowed the luxury of sensitivity. She hadn’t cared about anything when she was with him.
She took a step backward that couldn’t be mistaken for anything except hands off, unless the witness was truly dense.
“How do you want to do this transfer?” she asked. “Do you want to drive to a bank and use their notary, or what?”
“It looks nice, is all. I remember the first day we met and—”
Gail shook her head and grunted. “Nuh-uh.” She was almost certain now their meeting hadn’t been accidental. He’d scouted her for what she was and taken advantage of her in the weakest time of her life. “I’m sorry, but did you want your car back, or did you want to reminisce for old time’s sake? I’m sure your companion”—she nodded at the SUV—“has better things to be doing than waiting in a sweltering parking lot to see if you need a ride back to wherever you came from.”
He shrugged, still grinning.
Pompous jackass.
“Actually, she’s my staff notary, but she can wait. She’s used to it. Has more practice at it than some people I know.” Again, his hand neared her face, and this time Gail slapped it away.
“Don’t touch.”
“A little late for that. We were married for three years, and in that time …” He leaned in closer and whispered, “I touched a lot more than your jaw.”
The meek little witch in her wanted to recoil at his words, but the wild one growing stronger by the day had more influence. That wild witch wanted to zap him into the clouds and ensure that his fall back to Earth was hard and dick-first. She balled her hands into fists and said through clenched teeth, “I said I don’t want to be touched, and that’s my prerogative. Either respect my wishes and call your notary over here and give me a pen so I can sign this title over to you, or drive your ass back downtown so you can embezzle some more of the city’s money.”
Well, that knocked the smirk off his face. “You’ve changed.”
“And thank goodness for that, right?” She scoffed. “That too-stupid-to-live lifestyle was hazardous to my health. My doctor advised against continuing it.”
If she was tipping him off to the fact that she knew he knew what she was and that she knew what he was, he didn’t react beyond straightening his tie and clearing his throat.
“Where’s your ride?” he asked.
She crooked her thumb toward Scott.
Shaun looked at him, and Scott waved and shouted, “How’re ya?”
When Shaun turned back around, Scott folded down four of his five fingers and made a face at Shaun’s back.
Wolves.
Gail ground her palms against her eyes and sighed. “Shaun, get your notary and give me the cash.”
“You used to be sweet back in the day.” He waved the notary over.
Grinding her teeth, Gail pushed both eyebrows up at him and let them fall quickly. “Mm-hmm.” Oh, he had no idea how sweet she used to be. Saint Laurette. Claude’s sweet Laurette.
Well, Gail wasn’t sweet anymore, and she was just fine with that. She’d turn in her Southern girl membership card if she had to, because she wasn’t even going to pretend unless she felt like it.
“I got you a cashier’s check. Is that okay?” Shaun patted his blazer pocket.
“As long as it’s drawn from a real bank.”
“Oh, come on. The judge agreed that was just a mistake last time. Bygones?”
Right, a mistake. She wondered now if the judge was in Shaun’s coven. There was no easy way of finding out unless she had a friend who knew a friend of someone in that particular gathering. She didn’t think she did. Her friends tended to be squeaky clean. Well, her witch friends.
As if on cue, Scott turned up his music, and it was some loud, discordant early seventies rock Claude might have enjoyed.
She barely squashed the compulsion to turn toward his Jeep. She didn’t want to give him away. By now, Shaun had to know they were acquaintances at the very least, maybe more depending on how much that mouthy wolf had told Ross. Shaun was going to pretend otherwise, though. He had to. His curiosity about the ring on her left hand was obvious, however. His gaze kept falling to it, and she had to admit it was a stunning piece of jewelry. Certainly not one she would have been able to purch
ase for herself.
Shaun handed over the envelope, and Gail checked to make sure there were enough zeroes in it before tossing it into her purse. She signed the title and handed it over along with the key.
“You’ll need to get gas,” she said, already walking toward the Datsun. “I ran it down to fumes for you.”
She nearly walked right into him because he’d skirted around her so quickly. That used-to-be-charming grin was back, and that wild magic flared up again, putting Gail on her guard and a bit of electricity within her reach.
“Give me a call, huh?” he said. “We can meet up for drinks or something. I don’t hear anything about you through the grapevine anymore.”
“I like it that way.” She ducked around him and had made it almost to the passenger-side door when Shaun grabbed her right wrist.
She nearly snapped it in two while snatching it back from him.
“What part of don’t touch do you not get? It’s a simple concept taught in most kindergartens. Put your hands on me again, and I will—”
“What, call the cops?” He chuckled.
Yeah, right. Fat lot of good that would do her. “Nope.” She shook her head hard, and channeled a bit of Ellery. With a wide grin, she said in a singsong voice, “I’ll kick your junk so far up your body that you’ll have to shave your pubes from your chin every morning.”
This time when his eyes widened, she could tell he wasn’t acting. Her words had genuinely startled him, and then judging by the way his eyes narrowed immediately after that, they’d also pissed him off.
Intentionally irritating him hadn’t been on her agenda. Before, she’d just hoped she could get through the meet-up without throwing up, but the second he’d hopped out of that truck, the indignation had simmered beneath her skin and waited for an opportunity to erupt. She was so fucking overdue for an eruption.
Scott stabbed his seatbelt release and pushed his door open. “Bud, the nice lady was real clear she don’t want to be touched. You need some help understanding?”
“Who are you, exactly?”
Scott scoffed. “None of ya business. Damn, you a smarmy little shit, ain’t ya? I do declare …” He slammed the door and turned the key in the ignition. “Gail, you coming or you walking? There’s a race coming on tonight I want to see.”
