Sex and the Psychic Witch (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-five

“DON’T worry, kitten,” King said over supper a short while after the power was restored. “I don’t plan to go to jail, but let’s not worry about that unless we have to. My lawyer thinks we have a case. I gave him the name of the woman you stayed with, so he can question her, by the way.”

“Daddy, don’t let Mom have me.”

“She hasn’t been worried enough to call me over the last three years, so that’s not likely to happen.”

“I don’t want to go back.”

“I won’t let you go. My lawyer will fight for us. But we’re straddling a legal tightrope. You need to know that. I want you, Regg, and I want Jake. Whatever happens, remember this: I’m here to protect you from
dead
East Coast witches and
living
West Coast ones.”

“Hey,” Harmony said. “You’re implying that
witch
starts with a
b
. Cut that out. The two are not interchangeable.”

“My apologies. You’re right.”

After supper, King took a walk around the castle. His family was in danger—his family, meaning: Harmony, Reggie, and Jake. Damn. His feelings for Reggie and Jake were normal. What he felt for Harmony was . . . indefinable. He was running scared without moving, when usually nothing scared him. Or nothing used to. Now three people, no two . . . no three . . . mattered more than his own life. Two, he could claim. One he would have to let go . . . eventually.

Right now, keeping them safe was all that mattered. He was thinking of getting them out of the castle.

The crew needed to go, too. He’d pay them to stay away for a week or so. Not their fault Gussie was running amok.

“King!” Harmony, her hair blowing in the wind, stood on a cliff above him. She made a motion for him to come. “Jake’s in trouble,” she shouted.

 
KING died a thousand deaths at the sight of Jake crawling along the beam suspended over the great hall by flexible pulleys. “Raise a net,” he shouted to the crew. Thank God they kept safety netting on site.

Jake’s knee slipped before they got the nets up, and King, and everyone else, gasped . . . but something, or someone, stopped him from falling, and he managed to regain his balance.

“Where’s Reggie?” King asked.

“I don’t . . . oh . . . she’s up in the gallery.” Harmony pointed, and King’s heart sank again. His daughter hung from the gallery rail, trying to reach the end of the beam, while it rose up and away from her as Jake’s weight tipped it downward at his end.

The crew had the nets beneath Jake now, but there was none beneath Reggie.

King ran, climbed the rail, caught his daughter around the waist, and hauled her to safety. Jake fell and screamed, and King got distracted, lost his balance, and did the same. He broke his ankle, he thought, flat on his back, his head going muzzy, people running his way when they should be taking care of Jake.

Reggie broke through the crowd with Jake in her arms, and King released his breath. “Thank God.”

“Grampa! That was fun! Can we do it again?”

King blacked out.

“It’s just a sprain,” Curt said from a distance.

When King opened his eyes, he wasn’t in the great hall but with Harmony in the dorm.

“Does it hurt terribly?” She sat beside him on his cot.

“Screw that. How’s Jake?”

“Not a scratch on him, which is more than we can say for you.”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad. Ouch!”

“That’s what I thought.” She handed him a glass of water and a couple of aspirin.

He downed them in one sip.

Harmony stroked the hair from his brow, which he liked. “I don’t think the fall made you black out, I think terror for your family did.”

“Tell my crew that.”

“What do you care what they think?” She cupped her hands over his throbbing ankle, and King felt an escalating warmth that eased the pain somewhat.

“I’m the boss. I’m supposed to be invincible.”

“Any of their kids or grandkids hangs from the ceiling, they’ll black out, too. They know that. Curt and a couple of others looked pretty green.”

“I gotta get back down there. Help me up.”

“Sure, but can you fly without a helicopter?” He let her hold him while he tried to put weight on his ankle, but no go, not without her support. Wonderful. That’d make him look like the boss.

“Wait a sec,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

She brought him an old, gold-tipped cane he’d seen over the years. “I got such a sense of the ring when I took this from the cane stand,” she said. “I took everything out, and dumped the stand upside down, sure the other half of the ring was in there.” She shrugged. “But it wasn’t.” She raised the cane. “Look familiar? I think it’s the cane Nicodemus is using in the mural.”

King swore. “I’ll let you in on a secret. That mural makes me want to black out, too. I’ve got to get my family out of this place.”

“How about we get Gussie out, instead?”

“I’m listening,” he said, “but so is she, right?”

“My sisters and I have been talking about—” Harmony put her lips to his ear, and he cupped her head because he liked her this close. “A ritual,” she whispered.

“Which means?”

“Either we go for a bike ride, or you trust me on this.”

“When?”

“In a week and a half. We have to wait for the summer solstice to tap into the sun’s strength and vitality.”

He understood then that she meant a witchy ritual, and damned if he wasn’t grateful she had an idea, any idea, witchy or twitchy, or moon magickal. He’d take anything right now. “Think we can hang on that long?”

“My sisters and I have been casting protection spells all over the house for the past couple of days, rather blatantly now that we’ve been outed, so you might have some explaining to do.”

“How the hell do I explain that?”

“Tell them we’re fighting fire with fire. They’ll get it or they won’t, but they’re men. They won’t ask for directions.”

King barked a laugh. “Is that witch wisdom or feminine intuition? Help me up.”

She tried, and he got dizzy. “What kind of pills did you give me?”

“Pain pills from Curt’s first aid kit. He said you wouldn’t feel a thing after you took them . . . oh, oh.”

King shifted from his cot to her bed, fell into it, and pulled her down with him.

“Are you getting friendly or woozy?”

“Woozy friendly?” He traced the letters over her breasts. “Licensed to Thrill. Care to give me a demo?”

“Let me lock that door so I can take your mind off the pain.”

“People are gonna come knocking.”

“No, they’re not. The crew’s left for the day, and everyone has their own bedroom as of an hour ago.”

“Oh, Sunshine, get over here, so I don’t fall asleep before the main event.”

“I can come fast.”

Chapter Thirty-six

A few days later, a letter from his lawyer made King sit Reggie down while Gilda played with Jake outside. “Sweetheart, I have some bad news, but before you hear it, I think I have a solution. Are you ready?”

“No, but I’m glad Jake’s having fun so he’ll remember his home.”

“Stop playing psychic; you’re off the mark, but let’s go sit in the sun and watch him play.” King grabbed his cane and followed her out. She picked a piece of spearmint from the herb garden by the kitchen door, crushed it, and held it under his nose. Harmony’s influence, he thought. “Fresh. Clean,” he said. “Makes me want to chew some gum.”

Reggie smiled. “I love this place.”

That didn’t make him feel much better. They sat on a marble bench while Jake chased butterflies around the dolphin fountain.

Reggie laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m braced.”

King stroked her hair. “Your mother got wind of my lawyers’ inquiries and traced them back to me. She’s filed a countersuit for your custody.”

“I won’t go.”

“Not an issue, but . . . she didn’t apply for Jake’s custody. That’s good. It’ll work in our favor.”

“To her, Jake doesn’t exist. He wouldn’t fit her social stratosphere.”

“Into Malibu society, is she?”

“Big time. Last boy toy I remember was a soap star half her age.”

“Knowing that might help. It means she won’t want her world to know she’s a grandmother. I’m going to California to settle the future, for good.”

“Can’t she have you arrested there?”

“I won’t have contact with you while I’m there, so I won’t be breaking any laws. But I might try to convince her that I can have her arrested for stealing three years’ worth of child support.”

“Whatever you do,” Reggie said, “don’t give her the castle. I’m not kidding. This is our home.”

King guessed he wasn’t the only one who suspected that gold-digging Belinda would give up her daughter for money. He hadn’t quite realized how much Reggie loved the castle, nor that she already considered it home. Could his valiant girl stand another disappointment? And could
he
, in all honesty, be the one to disappoint her?

“Did she look for me, by the way?” Reggie asked. “Did Mom look for me?” she repeated.

“Yes, she hired a private investigator to find you, but he went out of business.”

“That’s lame. She’s usually better at covering her tracks than that.”

So much for his ploy to make her think her mother gave a rat’s ass. “She’s running scared, I think, so I’m off to play bad guy/bad guy.”

Tears spilled over Reggie’s big, dark eyes. “She doesn’t want my beautiful boy, Dad. I know she doesn’t want me, but how could she not want him?”

“Come here. Give your old dad a hug.”

“You? Old? Storm says you’re a prime stud.”

“Storm should keep her opinions to herself!”

Reggie laughed. “What fun would that be?”

Harmony and her sisters had become quite an influence on Reggie in the short time she’d been there. His daughter’s shirt of the day said, You Cease to Amuse Me, despite her full closet of new and retro clothes. He kissed her brow as Jake came over. “Grampa, take this with you to Caniforna.” The smiling urchin presented him with a mud pie.

“Baby Einstein, you never miss a trick.” King ruffled his hair and squeezed Reggie’s shoulder, as she wiped Jake’s face with the corner of her shirt. “I have to find Harmony,” King said, “to make sure she
and
her sisters can stay to keep you safe while I’m gone.”

Half an hour later, he found Harmony in the billiard room, but his request caught her off guard. “When are you going?” She circled the room waving a smoky . . . something. “It’s a smudge stick,” she said, answering his unspoken question.

“I’d like to leave tomorrow morning, if I can.”

“Of all the times.” Harmony sent her sisters a look. “The thing is, we’ve been rushing the protection spells so we could go back to Salem for the weekend. Our sister Vickie’s coming home from Scotland, and we have a welcome-home party planned.”

King released his breath. “I hate the thought of leaving Reggie and Jake’s futures hanging. Besides, in this case, a surprise strike is critical.”

“Can we take Reggie and Jake home with us?”

“You’d do that?”

“We love them. Of course we would.” Harmony looked at her sisters, and they enthusiastically agreed.

Relief and gratitude flooded him. “Reggie will love it. And if things go bad, Belinda won’t know where to find her.”

“Things could get ugly, huh?”

“Belinda doesn’t do nice. A mutual friend told me a few years back that she got her parents to sign their house over to her, then she moved them to senior housing and sold it.”

Storm shivered, as if she knew Belinda.

“Storm, do you sense something?” Harmony asked.

“The woman gives mean-spirited new meaning. She’s . . . small. Her world is narrow. She’s selfish and malicious. Like a dog with a bone, she doesn’t give it up unless she can bite someone for fun.”

“I know all that,” King said, “but hearing it makes me realize I should have fought for Reggie years ago.”

Harmony picked a piece of lint off his shirt. “You were a kid. Forgive yourself.” She slid her palm down his cheek and stepped away. “Your chicks will be safe with us. They’ll have a blast. So will we. Go to California and kick some bad Malibu ass.”

“If your sisters weren’t here, I’d kiss you.”

“Go ahead,” Storm said. “Kinky.”

King didn’t feel much like smiling, but he gave the rebel a wink. He also gave his crew an unexpected vacation, with pay. He might not look much like the boss leaning on his cane, but they treated him with new respect after that.

At dawn the next morning, Harmony walked him to his helicopter and kissed him good-bye, nothing compared to the send off she’d given him the night before, which included a gift from his own wine cellar that she’d utilized brilliantly. “Châteauneuf-du-Pape will never taste as fine,” he whispered against her lips.

She cupped his cheek. “Take care of you.” Her smile failed to hide her concern. “Call my cell and let us know what’s happening, okay? Reggie will be nervous, and so will I.”

“I’ll do that.”

Late that afternoon, in Malibu, sitting across from Belinda’s house, King didn’t need a detective to tell him that his ex hadn’t been able to afford a gardener or house painter for a while.

It took her a long time to answer her door, and when she did, she smiled, which scared him worse than the flaws in her once-flawless skin.

A bottle of Jack Daniel’s sat open on the bar behind her.

“You’re not gonna talk me out of getting Regina back,” she said.

“She’d rather be called Reggie.”

“You stole her.”

“You threw her out, and she came to me, but I’m here to fix that. I brought her back to you. Write me a check for the three years of child support you stole, and she’s yours.”

“How about you don’t have to pay for the next three years?”

King shook his head. “How about I don’t have to pay for the next six months?”

“Even better,” Belinda said.

“You don’t know how old your daughter is. Child support ends when she turns eighteen in six months.”

The look on Belinda’s face told him she hadn’t counted on that. She must have promised her lawyer a cut of the money tree she planned to shake, because the partied-out playgirl before him couldn’t afford a custody battle.

“I can’t afford—”

“To maintain your lifestyle. I can tell. Suppose I give you two choices,” King said. “I bring Reggie and her son here from the hotel, and the world knows you’re a grandmother, or you sign custody over to me. I’ve got the papers right here.”

Belinda smiled her evil/nice cat smile, the kind the unsuspecting world would think was sweet. He knew. He’d fallen for it once. “Suppose I give you . . .
one
choice,” she said. “A few days in jail should help you come up with a better offer.”

Her doorbell rang. “Get a life,” she said before she let the cops in.

They arrested him on the spot . . . for kidnapping.