Wolves, Witches and Bears...Oh My! Page 7

  “Oh.” Tina tried to hold back a shiver as a chill washed over her.

  “I don’t usually share what I see.” Gwyneth sniffed and straightened in her chair. “It never makes a difference in the end but I’ll feel guilty if something happens and I didn’t warn you ahead of time.” She turned back to her computer screen.

  “Umm... Thanks?” Tina wasn’t sure if a warning given to avoid feeling guilty really warranted a thanks or not but manners had been drilled into her. “Are you sure it has to do with me?”

  “No. It could be anyone in the vicinity. Even me.” Gwyneth picked up a receipt, seeming engrossed in her work again.

  Tina let out a sigh of relief and dismissed the warning. “It could also mean there’s going to be a fight at the club in the near future. It’s nearly a full moon and there’s usually some kind of an incident around then.”

  “Perhaps.” Gwyneth tapped a few keys then squinted at the screen again. “Visions and prophecies are always open to interpretation, curse them.”

  “That they are,” Tina agreed, giving her boss one last look before heading to the back storage room.

  Gwyneth was an accomplished witch. If she wanted to, the quirk of an eye brow could have a pen appearing, a sigh could bring the kettle to boil for a cup of tea. Yet, for the most part, she did things the normal way. It was safer when living among humans to act like them, she always said; no complicated cover stories were needed due to a bit of witchcraft being accidentally observed.

  Visions, however, came when they wanted and that irritated Gwyneth to no end. She liked to be in control of her magic and images of the future popping up at random times emphasized that she wasn’t.

  It wasn’t for lack of practice. Gwyn took being a witch seriously. Too seriously, in Tina’s opinion. Being a witch didn’t have to completely define one’s existence.

  Tina made a face as she grabbed several packages of napkins. How many times had Gwyn chided her for not studying the book of spells she’d given her? How many times had Gwyneth given an exasperated sigh when asked to fix a hex gone bad? How many times had Gwyn lectured her about the need to embrace their heritage?

  Tina hip-checked the storage room door shut. Unlike Gwyneth, she was a haphazard witch. Studying spells was boring and perfecting them involved too much practice. It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried. Witching just didn’t come naturally to her.

  Oh, she’d had a few minor successes, enough to show the potential was there, but was it really worth the effort? Conjuring a pen when you could just grab one, boiling water when there was a coffee shop two doors down; it really was pointless. Plus, you always had to be on guard in case someone saw you. No, she’d stick to her occasional visions and prophecies. Let the Gwyneths of the world keep the craft alive.

  By the time she returned to the bar, Reno was gone and Stone was sipping his water, a distant look in his eye.

  “You’re done already?” He looked pointedly at her purse and sweater.

  “Yep, Gwyneth is letting me leave early.”

  Stone made no comment, merely draining his glass before standing and placing his hand in the small of her back. The warmth of his palm seemed to burn through her clothing and ignite a flame of desire inside her. She quickened her pace, anxious to get to her apartment.

  Stone studied Christina as she lay on the bed before him. Her face was already flushed from his attention and he wasn’t done with her yet. This would be their last night together though he hadn’t told her that yet. Tomorrow he was leaving for Central America and once the mission was complete, it was unlikely he’d return to Chicago. He felt a twinge of regret over that fact but knew a clean break was best. Returning would lead to expectations and hopes for the future. All of which he couldn’t…wouldn’t…commit to.

  With this in mind, he wanted to draw the evening out. Make this last encounter especially memorable. Already he’d pleasured her once and his plans for the evening had just begun.

  He reached out and brushed the damp curls from her face, supressing a huff of laughter at the vibrant colour before switching his focus to her face. He traced the arc of her brow, the slant of her nose and curve of her cheek. A smile drifted over her lips at his touch.

  “Christina.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Are your neighbours light sleepers?”

  “I…I don’t know. Why?”

  “Because tonight I’m going to make you scream louder than you ever have before.”

  “You can do that?”

  He allowed the hint of a smile to curve his mouth. “You doubt my word?”

  “Well…” Her gaze was fixed on the finger she was trailing across his chest. “You have already…you know.”

  “And your point is?” He frowned at the unexpected turn the conversation was taking.

  She shrugged. “You’re not as young as you used to be. Won’t it take you a while to recover?”

  He reared back at the comment, eyes narrowed. There was a sparkle in her eye and the corners of her mouth twitched. Damned little witch. Well two could play at this game.

  “Is that challenge?” He lowered his voice, adding a hint of a growl.

  “Umm…” Her breathing hitched a combination of excitement and trepidation in her expression.

  With slow, measured moves he crouched over her, pinning her in place with his gaze. “Never forget, little witch, when you challenge a wolf, you might get much much more than you bargained for.”

  Tina caressed Stone’s back, too spent to care that his body was crushing hers. His skin felt rough under her hand; long, narrow ridges like whip marks. She wondered what had happened to him, what circumstances had existed that had kept his Lycan metabolism from healing his injuries. If she asked, he likely wouldn't answer. Rather than ruin the moment, she remained silent, curbing her curiosity in favour of savouring the moment.

  “Mmm.” She purred contentedly. Opening her eyes, she turned her head so she could see Stone’s face. For once it was relaxed, no tightness about his jaw, no furrows on his brow. Still strong, just less intimidating.

  Perhaps sensing her gaze, he opened his eyes, a hint of a smile curving the corner of his mouth. “I’m going to miss this.”

  “Miss what?”

  He rolled off her onto his side. Lifting one hand, he wrapped a lock of hair around his finger. “This.”

  “My hair?” It took a moment for his meaning to sink in. “Oh. You’re leaving.” She tried to keep her voice steady.

  He nodded. “I catch a plane at seven-thirty in the morning.” A shadow passed over his face, bringing with it the look of tension that so often marred his features.

  “And you won’t be returning.”

  “To Chicago? No.”

  She traced his brows, the scar on his cheek. “I still don’t know your first name.”

  “It’s better this way.” He rolled onto his back. “The less information, the less there is to miss.”

  “Is that how you approach all your relationships?”

  “I don’t have relationships.” He tucked one arm behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “One-night stands. That’s it.”

  “Sorry. I forgot.” She rolled over and swung her legs out of bed. “I need to use the bathroom.” Without looking back, she left the room.

  Once the door was closed, she leaned against it and took a deep breath. One night. Yeah, he’d said that…almost seven days ago. Damn. She‘d known this wasn’t going anywhere so why did it hurt so much? They’d only known each other a week. Correction, had sex for a week. She didn’t really know anything about him.

  Pushing off from the door, she used the toilet and then splashed off her face before schooling her features into a pleasant but neutral expression. There’d be no emotional scenes from her. He’d made her no promises. There were no ties between them. If she was feeling hurt, it was her own fault.

  She snagged her robe from the back of the door and slipped it on, then returned to the bedroom. Stone was sitting up in bed, his b
ack against the headboard as he talked on his cell phone. After a moment’s hesitation she went to the dresser and picked up a brush, fixing her hair while she shamelessly listened in on his conversation. If he’d wanted privacy, he should have left the room, she reasoned.

  “What’s the problem?”

  Reno’s voice came through loud enough that she could hear his response. “The US government has an agent inside the cartel. We’ve intercepted one of his messages. He reported there were two fatalities today.”

  “Any idea as to the identities?”

  “Just that they were scientists.”

  “And you’re thinking it was Paul Duffy and his wife since that was the cover they were using.”

  “Yep. They were posing as scientists, members of the Cryptozoological Association, researching Mapinguari, a South American ‘bigfoot’. It’s a logical assumption the Duffys were the ones being referred to, though no names were given.”

  “Well, keep checking. Do you still want me to proceed with the mission?”

  “Definitely. The children, as far as we know, are still alive. We need to find them and bring them home.”

  Stone sat up straight. “Whoa, now listen, Reno, I’m not good with kids.”

  “What’s so hard about it? Find the pups, bring them back.”

  “It’s not that simple. I’m going to need help on this one.”

  “I thought you worked alone?”

  “I do, but not if kids are involved. You can’t expect me to care for two kids by myself.”

  Reno sighed loudly. “I’ll see what I can do but we’re moving ahead on this, keeping the initial timeline. The longer we wait, the greater the risk. You know that.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  Stone ended the call and threw his phone on the bed.

  “What’s wrong?” Tina crossed the room and sat beside him.

  “The most recent intelligence report says that two of the people I was supposed to meet could already be dead.”

  “Oh no. That’s awful.” Tina placed a comforting hand on his leg. “I heard you mention children?”

  “Yeah.” Stone rubbed his hand over his face. “Two Lycan pups. Reno expects me to deal with them. What the hell do I know about kids?”

  “Maybe you need someone to help you.”

  “That’s what I told him.”

  “I could go with you. I’d love to help and kids like me.” The words spilled from her before she even had time to think of all the ramifications.

  “You?” Stone tugged on a stray lock of her hair. “Sweetheart, you’re as colourful as a rainbow. I need someone who will blend in. Thanks for the offer but I don’t—” His phone rang and he snatched it up.

  Tina got to her feet and thoughtfully stared at her reflection in the mirror. Too colourful. Well that was an easy fix. She slipped out of the room and headed to the kitchen.

  Some roots and herbs, a few basic ingredients along with the appropriate incantation and, voila, her hair would return to its natural colour. It was an easy spell, one of the few she had mastered and very useful with her current courses at school. Tina gave the concoction a final stir and blew it a kiss for good luck, then began to massage the mixture into her hair.

  Her scalp began to tingle and for one panic-stricken moment, she worried if she’d made a mistake when measuring the proportions. The spell might be basic but her skills were less than perfect. Lack of practice, Gwyneth would say dourly.

  No, she’d done everything correctly. Grabbing a pan, she used it to see her reflection; Stone was between her and the bathroom mirror and there was no way she wanted him to see her if her hair was turning into something weird like ferns or snakes. Not that that was really possible, of course…or at least she hoped it wasn’t! The full extent of the power of witchcraft could never be measured.

  She gave a sigh of relief when her reflection in the pan looked normal, distorted but normal. Two eyes, a nose, mouth, pale skin and…sigh…brown hair. Yep, her true self was back.

  Briskly towelling her hair dry, she finger combed it into place, took a deep breath and went in search of Stone. He was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, studying the screen on his phone.

  “Did Reno find anyone to help you?”

  “No.” He didn’t look up. “I’m going through my list of contacts right now, trying to find someone to go with me but, dammit, everyone is out of the country.”

  “I could go with you. I’m great with kids. They love me. Honest.”

  “Nice of you to offer, Christina but like I said, you’re—” He looked up from the screen and paused mid-sentence.

  She shoved her hands in the pockets of her robe and lifted her chin “I’m not too colourful anymore. Just plain old Tina.”

  Stone rose to his feet and walked closer. She forced herself to not shuffle nervously as he took her by the shoulders and turned her left and then right.

  “I didn’t know witches could change their hair colour so easily.” He fingered a lock.

  She shrugged. “A simple but useful spell. Cheaper than hair dye and more environmentally friendly.”

  He made a non-committal sound and took her chin, tilting her face upward so he was looking into her eyes. Having just performed a bit of magic, she knew they were likely showing hints of purple, a tell-tale sign witches had difficulty controlling.

  Her face grew warm under his scrutiny and she finally gave an exasperated huff.

  “I know I look different. Get over it.” She jerked her chin free of his grasp. “I didn’t do this for fun. You need someone to help you with those kids. I’m here. I look inconspicuously ordinary. You’re having no luck getting anyone to help you and it’s only a couple of hours until the flight leaves. Will you take me along or not?”

  “No.”

  “No? But—”

  “This isn’t a game, Tina. I’m heading into the jungle, into what is essentially a war zone.”

  “I know it’s not a game. I figured it was something serious, but—”

  Stone silenced her with a look. “You’re a nice kid. We’ve had some great sex together.” He tugged on his shoes and found his coat. “If I’m ever back in Chicago I’ll look you up.”

  Tina pressed her lips together and firmed her chin. She wouldn’t cry. He’d made no promises. Dammit, he’d called her a kid!

  Pocketing his phone, he walked towards her. Mere inches away, he raised his hand and cupped her cheek. Stone seemed to study her face, then gave a ghost of a smile. “You look good without all the paint. Take care, Tina.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and left.

  As the sound of the door shutting echoed through the room, Tina let her tense muscles relax. She looked at her bed, the covers still tangled from their activities and on autopilot began to straighten the sheets. Her hand paused on the pillow he’d used and, against her will, she picked it up.

  It was just her imagination that she could still feel the warmth from him. And the scent of the soap he favoured barely lingered. One cycle in the laundry and it would be gone for good, just like him.

  There were no photos, no ticket stubs, no silly presents. She didn’t even know his stupid first name! Seven days was all they’d had. Actually only seven nights. It was an insignificant amount of time in the expanse of her life so far.

  Hell!

  She threw the pillow on the bed. No way was she going to spend her time wallowing in misery over some guy she’d known for only a few days. So what if they’d had great sex, if he was ruggedly handsome and mysteriously fascinating. So what if she got hot and bothered just listening to him say her name. Life went on, right?

  And speaking of life, she had a bunch of friends who wanted to live it up. A spring break vacation hadn’t been finalized last she’d heard so she’d just take the bull by the horns and plan something. She grabbed the newspaper from the bedside table and flipped to the Travel and Leisure section. An impromptu getaway was what she needed. Some place hot and sunny with handsome men rubbing lotion o
n her back as she lounged on the beach. She spread the paper on the bed, grabbed an earring from her dresser and tossed it like a coin. Whatever travel agency it landed on, that was the one she was calling first thing in the morning!

  Chapter 4

  Stone walked down the dusty street, noting the shacks made of corrugated tin and scrap wood squeezed in between more solid cement block buildings. Hand-painted signs announced the prices of goods for sale and shoppers perused open baskets of food, crated chickens, colourful t-shirts and handmade rugs. Bicycles wove between the pedestrians and beat-up old cars rattled down the road dipping into the potholes when they couldn’t be avoided.

  Just a block from the ‘safe’ areas near the resorts, it was an entirely different atmosphere to what most foreigners would ever see. Rundown shops, second-rate products, stray dogs scrounging in the garbage that spilled from the alleys. The vendors pushed their wares and haggled over prices, their faces wizened from the sun and poor diet. Half-naked toddlers played at their feet while the older children begged for coins or attempted to steal carelessly guarded wallets.

  Any tourists who wandered this far were in for a shock. Robbery, assault, abduction; all were possible fates for the unwary. And the chances of a thorough police investigation should the crime be reported, well, that was luck of the draw. Some cops were legit but just as many were having their pockets lined by crime. Yet what else could be expected when their salary was a pittance?

  This, Stone thought, was why the small, equatorial countries were always in turmoil. Rampant poverty, corrupt police forces, no health care, no education. It was every man for himself with people easily swayed by anyone promising a bit of cash. Morals and ethics didn’t mean a hell of a lot when your family was starving or sick.

  The sun beat down on him, burning through the protection of his light shirt and causing beads of sweat to trickle down the indent of his spine. A vendor tried to entice him to buy a bottle of water but he shook his head. Quite likely the water was contaminated, filled at a public well and then capped to be passed off as natural spring water. A fast track to dysentery, that’s what it was.