Evil Eye

by Amanda McKinney

  Jesus Christ, tattoos drove him crazy.

  He tore his eyes away and shifted in his seat. He wasn’t thinking straight; he must be hungry or something. The Jeep hit a deep pothole, and he grabbed the grip handle. They were climbing now, on a dirt road that was barely a road. They were almost there.

  Hell’s Cove was a popular spot among local teenagers, so it wasn’t surprising that a missing or runaway teen’s vehicle had been spotted there. They’d agreed that their first stop to finding the missing teen should be her last known location. Hopefully, they’d get lucky, and Athena would be there.

  Branches swiped the side of her Jeep, squeaking against the metal, no doubt making hellacious scratches. He looked at her, shocked that she didn’t seem to care. He figured she’d have parked at the base of the mountain to avoid getting a speck of dirt on her brand-new rich-kid Jeep, and then made him carry her up the trail, so she didn’t scuff her eight-hundred-dollar fancy-pants boots. But she didn’t.

  Humph.

  The Jeep hit another dip, bottoming out this time, then lurched forward and—

  Pop!

  She slammed the brakes and looked at him with wide eyes.

  He grinned. “Hope you have a spare tire.”

  CHAPTER 8

  A fucking flat tire. Dammit!

  She blew out a breath, shoved the Jeep into park, and leaned forward, peering over the steering wheel as if willing the Jeep to fix itself. Scar could hit a bullseye with any gun she was handed, with her eyes closed, had a black belt in Jiu-Jitsu, and could manipulate a serial killer into a confession without blinking an eye, but changing a tire? She had no freaking clue. Her dad taught her when she was ten—or was it sixteen?—but, by God’s good grace, she’d never had to do it in a real-life situation.

  Shit.

  Where the hell did she put the manual? Surely there’d be instructions in there. Console, maybe? Or was that one of the things she threw out after she’d left the top off during the last thunderstorm?

  Shit, shit, shit.

  She sat back and looked at Luke, who was pushing out of the passenger side door.

  She turned off the ignition, grabbed the flashlight from her bag and got out.

  Lug wrench in hand, Luke was already loosening the spare from the back.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “Glove box.”

  “When did you…” She shone the light on the spare tire.

  “While you were gazing over the steering wheel trying to remember where you put the How-to-change-a-tire book for Dummies.”

  She snorted, then shifted her weight, a little embarrassed that he was right.

  With one swift move, the tire was off. She watched him, under the moonlight, in his tactical pants, and tight—not too tight—DDPD T-shirt. He worked in quick, smooth, efficient movements, with a relaxed, yet focused face.

  A handsome face, she had to admit.

  A very handsome face.

  He lifted the tire from the case, the T-shirt stretching across his muscular back.

  She remembered hearing that he’d been in the military, in some super-secret, super badass squad that hunted terrorists for a living, or something like that. And now, at that second, she could see it in his focus; the way he automatically took control of the situation; in his strength, his body. It was as if a trigger went off in him when there was a task at hand in time of duress—he immediately responded and got it done.

  He carried—not rolled—the spare to the front of the Jeep. She cocked her head and followed as a cat followed a string, suddenly interested in him for some reason. Here was the guy that she'd assumed hated her guts for the last five years. A guy that she'd written off and never spoke with again, even though they'd only said a handful of words to each other in the first place. She hadn't given him a second thought since that day. And here he was now, changing her tire and giving her more than just “asshole”.

  He kneeled down and grabbed the jack that was at his feet.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “Tool bag next to the passenger seat.”

  “Oh.”

  “By the way, you’ve got three dog collars under your seat.” He slid onto his back and positioned the jack under the vehicle.

  Her gaze trailed down to the bulge… Dammit, Scar. She tore her eyes away and casually glanced up at the sky. If she were a cartoon character, she’d rock back and forth on her heels, whistling.

  “They're extras, for my dogs.”

  “Damn, I was thinking some sort of S&M menage a trois.”

  She grinned. “Sorry to disappoint. No; one for each of my dogs, Fro-fro, Bill, and Gandy.”

  “Frodo, Bilbo, and Gandolf. Lord of the Rings.” The click, click, click, of the jack began to slowly raise the front of the Jeep.

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Good job. Best book on the planet.”

  “No argument there, but I was a Chronicles of Narnia kid.”

  Her eyebrows tipped up. “You read?”

  “Always have. Nice escape overseas.”

  Wow. Yet another surprise from the guy that she’d pegged as a dense, cold-hearted dick.

  He continued, “What kind of dogs?”

  “Chocolate Lab, two German Shepherds. Thinking about getting another.”

  “A dog lover, then.”

  “Yep; the only thing I love more than solving a good mystery.”

  The front of the Jeep lifted, and he positioned himself in front of the flat.

  She cleared her throat and stepped forward, “I think you need, a…uh…”

  “Wheel lock key.”

  “Yeah.” As the word came out of her mouth, he reached into his pocket and pulled it out. “Glove box?”

  A swift nod in response.

  Well, she was absolutely useless right now. Maybe she should… um…

  The tire came off, and the new one slid on.

  What seemed like under a minute later, the tire was secured, the Jeep was lowered, and Luke was loading the tools back into the Jeep.

  He dusted off his pants and turned to her. “Ready?”

  She realized she’d been staring at him. “Yeah… yes.” She shook her head and jumped into the Jeep.

  Under any other tire-changing situation, she’d be nervous to continue climbing up the steep mountain, but apparently, she was in very good hands.

  Efficient hands.

  Big hands.

  **

  Luke had to fight a smile as Scar turned the ignition and accelerated up the mountain.

  She was like a lost puppy while he changed the tire—had no clue what to do, which he had to admit, surprised the hell out of him. When he heard the tire pop, he’d assumed she was going to jump out of the Jeep, guns blazing, with a let-a-woman-handle-it attitude and push him aside.

  But, nope. One of the most sought-after private investigators in the country didn’t know how to change a damned tire.

  Yeah, he was shocked but glad it happened the way it did. For whatever reason, it seemed to deflate the tension between them. Or, hell, maybe he just needed to get a little grease on his hands. Regardless, he could no longer cut the tension between them with a knife. He appreciated that, because dealing with a woman who hated his guts wasn’t something he was accustomed to. Well, not until they’d discovered he’d slipped them a fake phone number, anyway.

  Although the tension was gone, there was a new question bugging him. Who had sent her the massive arrangement of flowers he’d noticed behind the passenger seat? A friend? A boyfriend?

  Did Scar have a boyfriend?

  He pondered that thought longer than expected until the Jeep burst out of the tree line and onto the cliff that marked Hell’s Cove. Not a single person was partying on the notorious rock. Considering the mild weather, that surprised him.

  Scar put the vehicle into park, grabbed her bag and they both got out.

  A warm breeze swept over his skin as he walked to the front of her Jeep and looked out at the view.

 
It was picturesque.

  The cliff jetted out high above the cove and overlooked Devil’s Lake below. A bright, almost-full moon hung in the sky, surrounded by millions of twinkling stars, reflecting in the black water lapping against the rocks below. The sounds of nature filled his ears, and he took a deep breath. He loved being in the woods. It was his favorite place.

  Scar stepped ahead of him, also gazing out at the water below. She put her hands on her hips, the moonlight outlining her body. He stared. He’d heard she was into yoga and meditation, and now having met her, he could see the effects of both on her—the curvy, toned body and her calm, controlled demeanor. His gaze trailed down to her backside, and his thoughts began to wander…

  “I’m shocked no one’s out here.”

  He snapped back to reality as she turned and stomped up to him. There goes the split-second of femininity.

  “Me, too.”

  “Dammit. I was hoping there would be someone here we could talk to.” She muttered.

  “It's usually packed. Have you been here before?”

  “Once.”

  “Just once? Really?”

  She pulled the flashlight from her bag and began scanning the ground, giving him only half her attention. “Yeah, really.”

  “Why?”

  She paused. “Work, I guess.”

  Yeah, right. Work. Vacations is what she probably meant.

  She continued, “I rarely leave the office.”

  “Hell of an office, by the way.”

  She glanced at him, then back down at the ground.

  He watched her closely.

  She shined the light into the trees. “I don’t see anything interesting, you?”

  He bent down, picked up a beer can and found himself disappointed that it wasn’t full. For whatever reason, he felt like he needed a drink. “No blue hatchback, that’s for sure.”

  She nodded, her shoulders slumping slightly.

  “There’s a few houses down the far side of the cliff here. Run-down shacks, more like it.”

  Her eyebrows tipped up. “Really? How far?”

  “Mid-way down the mountain.” He glanced back at the Jeep. “We’d have to go back down and circle around the base of the mountain, then back up.”

  “What about if we walk? How far?”

  “You mean hike down?”

  “Yeah.”

  He grinned and glanced at her boots. “Those really aren’t made for—

  “Walkin'? Lay down; I'll show you how good these are for walking.” A slight smirk crossed her full, sexy lips.

  He laughed. “Seriously... I mean, are those heels?”

  “How far on foot, Luke?”

  “Ten minutes, tops.”

  She looped her bag around her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 9

  10:03 p.m.

  Okay, so he was right, her boots really weren’t made for walking, or hiking, really. She could already feel the beginning of a monster blister on the bottom of both feet. Of all the days to choose boots with a three-inch heel over her flip-flops. Why the hell did she let Roxy talk her into buying the damned things anyway? Maybe it had something to do with the three martini’s they’d had at lunch that day, or maybe it had to do with Roxy telling her she needed to wear something other than flip-flops every day. Sex it up a bit, she’d said. Regardless, the impending blister was the least of her worries. She hadn’t expected to pull up to Hell’s Cove to see Athena sitting there alone, begging to go home, but she was hoping to pick up a clue—anything at all.

  She pointed the flashlight to the ground, and with Luke at her side, they stepped off the cliff, into the woods. The underbrush was thick and rocky, and combining that with the darkness of night that surrounded them, it was going to be a hell of a hike.

  And spooky.

  “Alright, let's break this thing down step-by-step.” Luke walked through the terrain like he'd been through it a hundred times. “You couldn’t get a hold of your friend, Fiona, so you go to the library to look for her, which happens to be burning down. You see a mysterious man running into the woods, who you decide to chase after…” He paused, slid her the side-eye, reminding her that he considered that decision to be very poor judgement, then continued, “And this is when you found Fiona’s… what do you call it?”

  She grinned. “Manolo Blahnik.”

  “Right. Her outrageously overpriced shoe that will be out of style in a week. So this leads us to believe that Fiona was not in the building when it crumbled and that she’s somewhere in the woods.”

  “Right.”

  “Okay, so the way I see it, with what we have right now, is that the mystery man who ran from you has got to be involved in this somehow.”

  “Agreed—but not with Fiona. The timing doesn't add up. Thorne is sure Fiona wasn't in the building when she locked up, which means she left, or was taken, just before that. And the mystery man was spotted on the road headed toward the library at eight-fifteen, fifteen minutes after Thorne locked up.”

  “Alright, so he might not have anything to do with Fiona, but, maybe with Athena because he just so happens to match the description of Athena's boyfriend—Matthew Miller.”

  “And he disappeared in the woods, headed for Hell's Cove, Athena's last known location. Also, it's just too much a coincidence to ignore that whoever it was, was lurking around where Athena's mom works. My gut tells me there's a connection.”

  “I agree. But why the hell burn down the library?”

  “We don't know he did. We'll see what Chief Cage says the cause was.”

  Luke nodded. “So step one is to locate Matthew, see what he knows, and what he's been up to since Athena's been missing.” He started to pull his phone from his pocket.

  Scar put her hand on his arm. “I’m on it.”

  “You’re on it? Already?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” He shook his head and slid his phone back into his pocket. “Ace?”

  “Yes. I texted him while you were locking up your truck. He's the best; will have something for us within the hour.”

  “Alrighty then.” Luke took a few steps, then frowned. “And Athena's been gone for two weeks now, coincidentally around the same time someone saw a girl get pulled into a van by the city park, right?”

  “Right.”

  They walked in silence for a moment.

  An owl hooted above them. Scar glanced up the tall Oak tree, spotting the bird, staring down at her, its golden eyes twinkling.

  Another moment passed before Luke finally addressed the elephant in the room.

  “Let’s assume that Thorne really is Evil Eye, a witch in Krestel's coven, and can possibly see where Fiona is… you really think she’ll keep up her end of the deal? You believe her?”

  “Yes, I do. I saw the look in her eyes when I mentioned Athena. There’s a bond there. I saw it. She wants her daughter back. Or to know that she’s safe, at least.” She glanced over at him when he didn’t reply. “What?”

  “Just hard to believe, that’s all.”

  “What is?”

  “That she cares about her daughter.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  He looked at her with a confused expression. “Scar, she stayed with Walter. Stayed in an abusive relationship, despite her daughter. Despite her daughter’s safety.” His voice lowered. “You never saw the house after the last beating.”

  A knot formed in her throat.

  He continued, “I don’t claim to understand why people do what they do or make the decisions they do. Hell, that’s not my job. My job is to keep people safe and take care of them when they need it, more often than not, during the most horrible times in their lives. I’ve seen more child abuse incidents to last a lifetime and let me tell you, those parents don’t give a shit about their kids. I’m just saying she could be dangling a carrot in front of your face.”

  “You think it’s a trap? This is all a trap?”

  He shrugg
ed. “I've heard the rumor that Krestel wants revenge, and that she’s cursed you and your sisters.”

  Nerves fluttered through her. She’d already considered that, but bottom line, Thorne’s promise was all she had to act on at that moment. And it made her nervous as hell.

  Her heel slid off a rock, knocking her off balance.

  Luke caught her arm, steadying her before she fell. Wide-eyed she looked at him.

  “You okay?”

  She looked at his hand gripping her arm, then back at him, into his deep brown eyes. Butterflies flittered in her stomach, the reaction shocking her. She cleared her throat. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  His gaze lingered a moment, then he smirked. “I told you…”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. The boots.” Dammit.

  He chuckled.

  She smiled, rolled her eyes and focused on the dark forest ahead, pushing the odd emotion Luke had given her out of her head and concentrating on the task at hand. A minute ticked by as her thoughts raced, shifting to Fiona, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Frustrated, she ran her fingers through her hair. “There has to be a Krestel connection somewhere, Luke… it’s her M.O.—Pyrokinesis. Fire. Think about it—first, black smoke from a mysterious fire almost killed Zander in the helicopter. Second, she blew up our kitchen, and now this; the library burns down.” She looked at him. “Fiona got herself into trouble somehow… she either ran into the witch or saw something that she wasn’t supposed to. And Krestel got her.”

  “Well, we're doing our part to find her. We need to focus on finding Athena only. No more worrying about the evil witch of the Great Shadow Mountains. For now, anyway.”

  She glanced at him, trying to gauge if there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  He must’ve caught it because he said, “Hey, no judgement or skepticism from me. Anymore, at least. The last few weeks have made me rethink every single time I’ve told the drunk old men at the Black Crow Tavern to head home after listening to them tell stories of Krestel for hours on end.”

  “Hours on end?” She cocked a brow. “Wow, your commitment to the job is impressive.”

  She felt a moment of relief, listening to him. She hadn’t wanted to spend the entire evening trying to convince him of Krestel. Maybe he wasn’t as narrow-minded as she assumed. Bull-headed, no doubt about that, but narrow-minded, not so much.