A Witch's Fury (9 page)

“Olie,” Hannah stated proudly.

I ducked my head, with a small grin.

“I’ll deal with you later,” she informed me.
“In the meantime, do what the kid says.”

I smiled at them; I needed a good fight.

…

We met Lorraine, Logan and Alec outside in
the dusty parking lot of The Were. It was a local bar for shifters
and shifters only, a place to indulge their primal instincts of
fighting and fucking. Judging from the grunts and groans in the
dark parking lot, not to mention the lust and desire seeping from
the cracked wood, it was more the latter.

We had driven separately to the seedy
establishment so Logan could get the pain in the ass fiancée and
his own security. I felt right at home. I hadn’t wanted details of
their meeting, even though they were offered. I honestly couldn’t
bring myself to care.

As we headed toward the front door, a group
of smokers loitering on the open porch, dressed in cut off tops,
leather skirts, and tight jeans, watched our approach with clear
interest. I surveyed the group, hoping for trouble.

I inhaled deeply. This was just the release I
needed.

Lorraine stalked to the other side of Logan,
her heels getting caught in the holes in the parking lot.

“What a loathsome establishment,” she hissed
at him.

I rolled my eyes and shared a look with
Darren. Every shifter here had just heard her. Well, perhaps not
those inside the club, given the thumping music, but it was still
an ignorant statement to make while engaged to the Alpha of the
Shifter Nation. The music was far quieter than in a normal club, in
deference to the shifters’ superb hearing, but even they enjoyed
drowning their gifted senses in the pulsating beat.

Darren blew out a breath. “This is an
interesting choice of venue,” he muttered to Logan, fully knowing
his voice would carry.

Logan only shrugged, practically carrying
Lorraine. “He’s difficult to deal with; giving him home field
advantage will hopefully help smooth things over.” I smiled, happy
Logan was setting a precedent that didn’t require me to behave.

Darren huffed. I stayed out of it. I was not
here tonight in my official capacity as right-hand arbitrator for
Logan. I was only here to make sure no one grabbed, molested, or
harassed Darren.

Easy peasy.

The bouncer at the front door gave me a long
look when it was my turn to gain entrance. The tall, tattooed man
inhaled deeply. “Not a shifter,” he growled.

I slid up into his personal space. “Wanna
take a guess?” I whispered sultrily.

Tall and beefy’s head dipped over my body in
appreciation before his eyes settled on my own, a wisp of a smile
on his lips.

“She’s with us,” Alec said, dragging me away
from him.

“Wait!” The bouncer called out, his brain
cells firing again. “She needs to be searched.”

I pulled out of Alec’s hand as Logan and
Darren looked worriedly back at me. Turning, I held my hands out as
the bouncer reached out to pat my arms. I let my power out, desire
seeping into his hands. Raw, potent need flowed under his skin as
his hands checked my hips.

He inhaled a shaky breath, hands running over
my spread thighs. He missed the knives in my boots, standing back
up, breathing heavily. I turned with a smile back to my group.

I was going to have fun tonight.

The interior of the club was everything I had
expected: low lighting for the shifters’ excellent eyesight, a deep
bass pulsing through the strategically placed speakers, and the
scent of wet, sweaty dog. I'd never admit that last observation
unless I was looking for a fight.

Actually, I might be.

Logan and Darren were escorted to a round
booth near the back, next to the bar. Alec and I stayed standing,
surveying the scene as the other three settled with a new member of
the group. My gut had me instantly disliking him and I wasn't sure
if it was the slimy appearance of his hair or the grainy cast to
his skin. I was certain that the cagey, drunk eyes roving over my
body had more to do with it.

I adjusted my stance, watching his hands
closely. Shifters having a drink was not an uncommon event, but a
drunk shifter was something else. That took talent, to overload
their hyperactive metabolisms to achieve a state of
inebriation.

I tuned out the conversation at the table,
choosing to focus on the bar instead. A long haired beauty with a
deep tan, dark makeup, and an alluring smile moved quickly filling
drink orders, her movements sure and practiced as she delivered
alcohol to the waiting crowds. The darkly lit dance floor was
loosely populated with couples wrapped delectably around each
other, pelvises aligned and grinding with a single-minded need.

I was jealous of their total abandonment of
rational thought.

Turning my attention back in front of me, I
raised an eyebrow at Alec who was sipping a beer. “How did you get
served so quickly?” I asked him softly.

He smiled and flexed. I couldn't help but
roll my eyes. I turned my attention to Lorraine, sandwiched between
the larger men, looking miserable. That brought an honest grin to
my face.

A woman's sweaty body pressed again my own.
“Darren!” she called out, trying to move me.

I shoved back hard, moving her back a few
steps.

“What the fuck, bitch?” she hissed,
apparently now just seeing me.

Tilting my head, I took in her small shorts
and leather bra, crossing my arms over my chest.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“You need to move, little girl, before I
break you. Darren needs to speak with me,” she claimed, throwing
her long hair back.

“Why?” I asked, unimpressed.

She scoffed, unable to come up with an
intelligent answer. “Because I said so.”

“Worshiping, pawing and/or fawning over
Darren is officially closed. Find someone else,” I told her,
turning my attention elsewhere as I dismissed her.

Her chest heaved, hands clenched at her side.
Alec was still watching her and I saw the exact moment he opened
his mouth to warn me about her approach. Still sporting a small
smile, I kept eye contact with him as I captured her arm. Her
closed fist, swinging toward my jaw, twisted at an unnatural angle.
The solid snap of her elbow breaking brought me joy.

She cried out. Alec’s mouth hung open in
disbelief as I used my body weight to drop her down to her knees. I
didn’t release her arm, which would allow the bone to heal.

“Are you done?” I asked softly.

“Yes,” she whimpered, gasping for breath,
tears leaking down her painted cheeks.

I pushed her away from me, standing back to
my full height. She used her feet to push back away from me, not
daring to challenge me again with direct eye contact. If she had a
tail it would have been tucked.

A slow clap coming from the dance floor
behind me had my attention as I readied for another attack. I was
pleasantly surprised to see Bear, right at home with his thick
tattooed arms and shaved head.

“Olivia, I see you have introduced yourself,”
he commented, standing close. I inhaled the smell of beer and the
wild woods. I liked the heat from his body and the close
proximity.

I grunted a noncommittal response,
scowling.

He smiled. Seriously, when did I get less
threatening?

He leaned into my personal space, peering at
me inquisitively. I asked, “What?”

“I hear you’re a single lady now.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, looking at him
with new eyes. Bear was undoubtedly an attractive man, with his
shaved head and tightly defined muscles. I chewed on my bottom lip
thoughtfully, my gaze roving over hard-packed muscle. My attention
did not go unnoticed. He smiled, leaning closer.

“Oh, for—seriously? Keep it in your damn
pants,” Lorraine spat, interrupting our moment.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,”
Logan warned quietly.

“Shut it.” I pointed at him.

“The demon whore is free to whore once
again.” Lorraine lifted her drink in salute.

“At least I’m in demand.”

“Enough,” Darren commanded.

Shit, he was right. I was letting my temper
and pain get the best of me. I was not presenting a very
professional image for the shifters as one holding a place of honor
next to Logan. I glared daggers at Lorraine, wishing I could reach
out and shove the aforementioned daggers where the sun didn’t
shine.

My phone vibrating ceased our conversation.
With a sigh I picked up.

“Hi Grams.”

“Olivia, we have a problem.”

Biting down the groan I asked, “What kind of
a problem?” So fucking help me if Tommy got himself kidnapped
again.

“I think it’s best if you see for yourself,
I’m emailing the pictures over now. Oh, and do be sure to bring
Jerry along. This has the particular stench of those wretched
witches.”

The click ending our conversation had me
biting down on my words. Jerry. Uh, pretty sure I didn’t want to
talk to him yet.

I looked back to Logan and Darren, who were
both staring at me.

“Hurry the fuck up. I have business to attend
to.”

Tactful, that’s my middle name.

…

I was back in front of Jerry’s house and
Mark’s vehicle was still absent. I was hoping that he was just at
work or busy and not still gone from the fight I had witnessed. I
was fairly certain that was at least a day ago. I still hadn’t
stopped to sleep. It seemed less important now that I was doing it
alone.

Grunting, I flung the car door open into the
dark street. I marched heavily toward the door, prepared to drag
him out of his house if necessary.

He opened it before I got there. I stopped
halfway through the front yard.

We regarded each other for a moment.

“Come in, Olie,” he spoke first, moving back
to allow me entry.

I grunted a reply as I moved across the
threshold. I was unsure how exactly to handle this situation. I had
expected screaming, possibly even additional name-calling.

“Grams call you?” I asked, my arms folding
stiffly in front of me.

“Yeah,” he answered, packing a few items into
his suitcase before sliding the zipper. Straightening, he looked at
me with big brown eyes. I could tell he wanted to talk about
it.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Jerry followed me silently to the SUV.

“Put your bag in the backseat,” I ordered
him.

“What’s wrong with the trunk?” he asked with
attitude, my tone clearly bothering him.

“It’s full.”

“Oh.”

Buckling up, I waited until he got his ass in
the car, but not for the door to shut before I pulled away from the
curb.

He grunted a response, nothing more. Okay, so
I was still exceptionally pissed the fuck off about his
comments.

“I’m sorry.” Jerry tried.

“Don’t be, Jerry. Never apologize for
speaking the truth.”

Chapter 8

“Do you
want one room or two?” I asked, shutting off the SUV in front of a
clean, well-maintained hotel on the outskirts of Madison, Ohio. It
was several steps up from my usual, but lower than when I had
traveled with Blake, which I was not thinking about.

“Whatever,” he groaned, blinking back sleep,
which had been his primary contribution to the mission thus
far.

I got one room, for several reasons: one, I’m
cheap; two, it would force us to talk and either work this out or
drive a solid wedge between us; and three, I didn’t want to be
alone.

I’ll never admit the third.

Jerry showered as I reviewed the photos on my
laptop again. If I had thought the giant talking snakes had been
strange, this was beyond my descriptive abilities.

Smelling like fresh oranges, Jerry sat down
next to me in flannel pajama pants and a white shirt.

“Any guess on what it is?” he asked, sitting
close to me.

I sighed, pushing the laptop closer to him.
“Yes, and I hope I’m wrong.”

“Are we good?” Jerry asked, staring at the
laptop and not at me.

I shrugged. It was foolish thinking I could
build a life outside of being an Executioner, and his words only
reminded me of that.

“Yep. I’m going to shower. Try and get some
sleep, the detectives will want us there early tomorrow.”

“You mean today?”

I checked my watch with a grunt. “Yeah,
today.”

He nodded, watching surreptitiously as I
walked away from him. I could feel my old walls rebuilding and I
was grateful for them. They kept the pain and misery down where it
belonged.

…

Dawn found me awake, staring out the one
window in our room and listening to Jerry snore.

I missed Blake. I missed having the tender
beginnings of a real life. I wanted more than running from state to
state eliminating problems. I wanted—I wanted what I couldn’t
fucking have. Dwelling on it wouldn’t do any damn good.

I flipped open the three ring binder, looking
for when the continental breakfast opened. I had a few hours until
the promised waffles and donuts were available, so I opted for the
gym to kill some time. Jerry could get a few more hours of
sleep.

I twisted my growing locks back into a loose
bun, rolling my shoulders as I took the elevator down. Pushing open
the glass door to the gym, I scowled at the guy on the treadmill.
He was too busy chatting on his phone to notice me.

I slouched over to the rowing machine, having
more aggression to work out.

…

Sweat-drenched and feeling mildly better, I
headed back to the room. Hopefully Jerry would be up. If nothing
else, I could shower and get breakfast.

I stopped short at the door, hearing his
muffled voice. Physically I felt his anguish and sweet relief.

Huffing, I leaned against the wall, waiting,
something I’ve never done well.

Down the hall, a room door opened. Laughter
spilled out, along with an adorable blond boy who scampered away
from his chasing father’s teasing noises. Easily catching him, the
equally blond father sprayed kisses against his son’s cheeks as the
laughing turned to squealing. Closing the door behind them was a
heavily pregnant mother, who casually draped an arm around her
husband’s waist before also kissing her son.