Authors: Anya Breton
SweetlyBad (12 page)
“I’m leaving,” he whispered against her heavenly flesh.
“You’ll be safe if I go.” The selfish boy in him waited for a response,
desperate for her to plead with him not to go even though it was the only
answer.
“No.” Her response was lethargic but exactly what he needed
to hear.
He slumped farther into her, stealing a kiss against her
quivering pussy. One last lick. His tongue flicked within her folds, zeroing in
on her pleasure bud until the music of her ragged sigh slipped into his ears.
“I have to.” He sighed. “It’s the only answer.”
Drew tore himself from her, allowing one last caress of her
amazing breast before he went for his slacks.
“I have a plan,” she said.
He stepped into his boxers. “Does it involve me leaving as
soon as my shoes are on?”
“It involves us working together.”
Drew stuffed a foot into his jeans and then faced her. “I
want to work together, I do. But I want you to be safe more.”
Erica didn’t smile at his sentiment. She scowled instead.
“I’ll be fine. You won’t. That’s why we need to work together. My plan will
work if you’ll just trust that I know what I’m doing.”
“I don’t doubt you know what you’re doing. I doubt our
ability to hold off three witches without one of us getting hurt.”
She jerked.
What had he said? Witches? He’d not spoken the word to her
yet, had he?
“Can witches be hurt?”
Drew nodded. “Generally the same things that hurt you can
hurt us as well. But you’ll be safe if I—”
“Rush off by yourself so it’s easier for them to kill you?”
She scoffed at him but rather than being offended, Drew had the urge to kiss
her. “Stop fighting with me, Drew. We’re wasting time we could be using
fortifying my garage. Now just listen.”
He listened and hoped he didn’t regret it.
Her plan was risky, with many uncertain factors, but it was
all they had unless she was willing to let him go. And she wasn’t. He was
secretly pleased she’d demanded he stay.
Erica was too damn good for him. If he lived through this,
he just might have to become a man worthy of her.
He peered through the darkness to where she fiddled with her
contraption near the open door to bay one. It was unreal how he felt about her
after little more than twenty-four hours. But he supposed they’d gone through
more in the past day than most people experienced in a month.
She motioned for him to take his spot. He hit the switch for
the garage’s interior lights, plunging them into darkness. Drew waited for his
eyes to adjust to the change. He carefully picked through the space around his
Ferrari.
Drew slipped into the Dodge’s cabin. He twisted the key in
the pickup’s ignition until accessory mode came on. Next he rolled the windows
down so he could hear.
They waited, listening carefully.
Where were the witches? Had his mother relented and removed
the designation?
A car rumbled down the road. Though it wasn’t the first
since the witch had disappeared, it was the first since they’d been in place.
He remained motionless despite the potential threat. There was no sense putting
Erica on alert if it was a local or a lake tourist.
The car continued past them without slowing. Drew exhaled in
relief.
Why was he relieved? They were ready
now
. This needed
to be finished so he could get on with whatever was next.
But…what
was
next?
Erica may have responded favorably to desperate sex before
they potentially died but that didn’t mean she’d welcome him with open arms if
they didn’t. He’d weaseled his way into many a bed but he’d had little to lose
then. Drew couldn’t screw this up.
A dog barked in the distance—the frantic baying of a canine
defending his territory. Someone was someplace they weren’t supposed to be.
Drew met Erica’s gaze out the windshield. He gave her a nod and mimed that
someone was on foot. She nodded her understanding. He gripped the steering
wheel as she faded into the shadows.
In true Air witch fashion, the first individual appeared
silently. One moment the parking lot was clear and the next a broad-shouldered
witch landed without a sound in the near darkness. The witch crouched forward
and peered at the garage. Drew remained motionless, praying the shadows were
enough to keep him cloaked and that they didn’t find the open garage door
strange
before
he had a chance to act.
A second male appeared much as the first though he was significantly
smaller. They gestured to each other in the sign language Drew had never
mastered.
At last the female emerged from the trees lining the parking
lot. “It’s dark inside,” she said at full volume. “It wasn’t dark when I was
here earlier. They must have fled.”
The clatter of metal wheels was the sign he needed. Erica’s
creeper rolled forward, catching the witches’ attention. He twisted the knobs
on the headlights and the attached light bar. One witch hopped out of the
creeper’s way; however the sudden spill of light meant he didn’t see the oil
puddle. Down the guy went onto his ass, smacking his head.
Erica’s contraption whooshed with compressed air. Metal
clattered to the ground a half-second later. The female witch shrieked as nuts
and bolts sprayed like buckshot across the parking lot.
Drew hit the ignition and then the gas pedal. He smacked the
female head-on, knocking her under the bumper. But the larger witch rocketed
into the air before Drew could do anything else.
He parked the vehicle and charged out.
“Go after him,” Erica called from the side. “I’ve got these
two.”
“They’re not hu—”
“I know. But they’re unconscious. Go before we lose him,
Drew.”
He didn’t want to leave her, not until their attackers were
trussed up and he knew she was safe.
“Trust me,” she said.
Drew hesitated a moment longer. The thinning of her lips
forced a nod from him. “I do.” He fished in his pocket for his phone. “Take
this. Wait ten minutes. If I’m not back, text the garage’s address to the entry
for
Cleaners
with the note that there are two Air witches, possibly
three. Got it?”
Erica emerged from the shadows so she could fetch his phone.
“Got it.”
He grabbed hold of her shoulders, bringing her against him
for a fierce kiss—a kiss the way he needed rather than the gentle way she’d
taught him. She melted into him before stumbling back.
“Go,” she said.
He shot into the air before he could change his mind.
Anxiety and fear had distracted Erica when their attackers
appeared. She wasn’t distracted when Drew soared into the air like a firework.
He’d said these were his people but until that moment it had been an abstract
idea.
He really
wasn’t
human.
And neither were the bitch and the male on the ground.
Erica hurried to the female first because she was closest.
Though Drew had hit the black-haired woman, he hadn’t run her over. She merely
lay beneath the bumper, whimpering in pain from Erica’s canon surprise.
There was a good deal of pleasure to be had by slapping the
used handcuffs over the bitch’s wrists. Erica kicked her in the head for good
measure.
She did the same with the guy who had fallen over the
creeper but rather than handcuffs, he got stainless steel exhaust clamps for
restraints. Erica chained the pair of witches together and used another clamp
to fasten them to the sabotaged lift post.
Now she only had to wait.
Three minutes passed with no change to the captive witches.
There was also no sign of Drew.
Erica backed the pickup into the bay. She flipped off the
headlights and light bar then spent a few moments checking for dents and scuffs
in the paint within the garage’s interior lights. She’d have to buff the fender
but otherwise the thing looked as good as it had when dropped off.
She began the task of vacuuming up the nuts and bolts she’d
spewed from the makeshift canon. Too quickly, they were collected in a bucket.
Finally she hosed down the oil on the parking lot.
Still there was no change. She bounced Drew’s phone between
her hands, upset that she’d allowed him to leave it with her.
What if he was hurt somewhere and needed her? How would she
find him?
She paced the garage for another minute. Anger built with
each step she took. Between what she’d recently learned and what she’d pieced
together from eavesdropping, she was certain Drew was in this situation because
of his
mother
. How could the woman do this to her own son?
Erica stared at the phone. Three minutes until she was
supposed to text these mysterious Cleaners.
First she had some questions for someone.
Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through Drew’s recent
calls. So many female names. He really was a scoundrel. But that wasn’t a
reason to be fighting for his life.
Amanda Haizea.
The entry stuck out because it was one
of the only ones to include a full surname. Erica smashed her thumb on it.
And then waited.
The woman hadn’t answered Drew when he called from this
phone yesterday. Would she answer today?
A feminine drawl so like Drew’s greeted Erica. “Andrew, what
fantasy have you concocted this time? Is Priestess Kranz herself trying to
murder you?”
“It isn’t a fantasy, you know,” Erica said.
“Who is this?”
Amanda’s whip-sharp voice only made Erica angrier. “This is
Drew’s mechanic. The vanilla human who was handcuffed in her garage for a half
hour earlier by some bitch witch who is trying to kill your son. Now he’s off
trying to catch the last remaining member of the trio of assassins.” Erica’s
voice shook with fury. “Does it make you happy to know your son is fighting for
his life? Is this the lesson he was supposed to learn?”
Amanda snorted. “Now he’s resorted to paying for cheap
theatrics?”
“You’re a piece of work, lady.” Her next breath came out
ragged. What did Drew have to do to get through to his mother? Be attacked
before the woman’s eyes? “I’m not a paid actress. Google me. My name is Erica
Pearce. I own Pearce Auto-body in Stoddard—the shop that towed Drew’s Ferrari
when it broke down yesterday on the side of Route 9. He gave me his phone
before he went after the third witch. In one minute I’m supposed to text
someone named Cleaners with my address and the news that there are two,
potentially three Air witches. I don’t know what any of that means but I bet
you do.”
This time there was no snort or derisive comment.
“I’ll admit that Drew is an asshole,” Erica said. “He spent
the first hour in my shop calling a few dozen women, looking for someone to
hook up with. He was allergic to cleaning up after himself until I shouted a
bit. But then he pitched in and did a great job calling my customers. He tried
to help me with an ex-boyfriend problem even though I didn’t want his help.”
Erica sighed because she was rambling on in her fear and righteous indignation.
“Whatever he did to disgrace your family can’t possibly be bad enough to
deserve being attacked by
four
different people in one day. This rogue
thing you did to him, fix it, or so help me god, I will find out where you live
and I’ll knock you unconscious exactly like I did the bitch who dared handcuff
me to my own garage.”
Erica clamped her mouth shut, concerned she’d gone over the
line. Amanda didn’t respond. Erica checked the phone for ticking numbers. It
was past time to contact the Cleaners but the call hadn’t dropped and the two
bars of service were steady.
“What happened to the other two witches?” Amanda asked in
what sounded like a neutral tone.
“We disabled them. I’ve got them chained to my lift.”
“Are they conscious?”
Erica glanced over at the slumped figures. “No. Why? Were
you going to make me put one of them on the phone because you
still
think this is one of Drew’s fantasies?”
Amanda sniffed haughtily rather like Drew might. “My son has
taken nothing seriously for three decades.”
“So you sent
assassins
after him? You are so lucky
you’re in Manchester and I’m here.”
“You’ve slept with him,” Amanda said as though the idea had
recently occurred to her.
Erica went rigid.
The woman’s tone grew slow, incredulous. “After he called a
few dozen women looking for a hook-up, you still slept with him. And now you’re
defending
him? What did he do to earn your devotion?”
“He came back to save me when he could have run to safety.
But this is less about devotion than it is about one woman calling out another
on her horrific stupidity. This is
not
how you handle a family squabble.
Fix this. And you had better hope Drew arrives back safely.”
“Or what?”
“Don’t push me, lady. I might be human and you might be
something else, but I’ve already subdued three of you and that was with limited
time and resources. If I have to come there, I’m going to be prepared.”
Erica disconnected the call before she did something worse.
Though what would be worse than threatening Drew’s mother?
“What was that?”
Erica yelped as Drew stepped into the light. He dropped an
unconscious figure onto the concrete. Blood stained his polo but he was upright
and alert.
She gestured at the gash on his cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just a few cuts and brushes. Nothing worse than
the punch to the jaw I received earlier.” Drew jabbed a finger at his phone.
“Who were you talking to?”
The desperate look that had been in his eyes before he left
was gone now. In its place was suspicion. What did he think she’d done?
Erica swallowed down unease. “I called your mother.”
His golden brows winged up. “You did? What did you say?”
“I bitched her out.” She winced. “And I…I may have
threatened her.”
Drew choked. “You…” He stared at her. And then burst into
laughter. “You threatened
Amanda Haizea
? The Haizea dragon?”
Was his hooting a good thing or an insult?
“Yes,” Erica said.
“What did she say?”
“I hung up before she could say much.” Erica avoided his
gaze rather than admit she was a little ashamed Amanda had guessed her weakness
where he was concerned. “How do you tell if you’re a rogue?”
“There’s a hidden website.”
“Can you get to it from any computer?”
Drew nodded. “Any computer with internet access.”
Erica started for the office. “Use this one.”
Drew waited on the other side of her counter while her
computer booted up. He needed the barrier because his self-control was shot.
She’d vanquished two of his foes
and
called the lady dragon that was his
mother. Few members of the Underground were as brave and badass as Erica
Pearce. All he could think of was fucking her again.
Erica gave a little gasp—a sound that tugged at his balls.
She snatched up his phone from where she’d set it on the counter and then scrolled
through his contacts.
“I didn’t get a chance to text Cleaners because of calling
your mother,” she said as a flush flooded her cheeks.
Aer.
He gripped the dated orange counter rather than vaulting
over it. An image of fucking her on top of the surface took center stage. His
cock thickened despite his throbbing jaw.
The fantasy halted when he realized he too had forgotten
something. Drew left her in the office. He moved the third witch on a cushion
of Air toward the other two slumped at the base of her lift.