Chapter Thirteen

NASH

Boy, did this woman drive a hard bargain.

As hard as my dick after that BSDM comment she’d made. Not that I was into bondage. But, hell. If Erin was, I could try being open-minded.

Only if we get to tie her up, my dragon rumbled.

I nearly snorted. Yeah, like she was ever going to let that happen.

Any way she likes it would be perfect, my dragon added.

I did my best to focus. But my mind — and heart — was a jumble of emotions and ugly memories.

Angelina. The Agency. The sinking realization that fate might be screwing with me. Because, as Erin had pointed out, I’d shown up at her job — and also at the bar the night before that, when her father had come to visit.

Which you handled so beautifully, my dragon muttered.

I jutted my jaw. How was I supposed to know he was her goddamn father?

And anyway, this wasn’t about him. It was about Harlon. How did he fit into this picture?

My throat heated with the first stirrings of fire. Fate had messed with me before, and it probably would again. But I’d be damned if it played its ugly games with Erin.

Not on my watch, dammit, my dragon vowed. Not on my watch.

Technically, this wasn’t my watch. I wasn’t with the agency any more, and I hadn’t been assigned to investigate — or protect — Erin. And yet, here I was, feeling more duty-driven than I had been in years.

“Why is Harlon interested in my property?” Erin echoed glumly. “I wish I knew.”

“Madden sure seems to know about it — especially that vortex.”

She shot me a cutting look. “Madden thinks he knows, but he doesn’t. And he certainly doesn’t understand.”

“What is there to understand about a vortex?”

She cackled. “Where do I begin?”

I held my tongue. Pushing would only get me smartass replies, and Erin had already proven what a quick thinker she was.

She’d make a great dragon, my inner beast hummed happily.

For a long, silent minute, Erin stared at the moonlit valley. Somewhere down there was a creek, judging by the faint trickle of water and a crooked line of cottonwoods.

“Different people say different things about the vortexes,” she finally whispered. “Probably because they feel different things. And most folks feel nothing.”

I waited. If there was one thing I’d learned about Erin, it was that she wasn’t most folks .

“When I first went up Cathedral Rock, I waited and waited, trying to feel something,” she continued. “But there was nothing. Nothing but the majesty of the place, I mean. No magic, no mystical powers. Just the sheer natural beauty.” She motioned at the moonlit landscape before us. “The second and third times I went, still nothing. But the fourth time…” Her throat bobbed. “My great-aunt took us up there — all three of us — saying the vortex was open. And that time, I felt it.”

Working at the agency had taught me a lot about supernatural phenomena, but that didn’t stop goose bumps from prickling along my skin.

Erin wiggled her fingers. “A disturbance, like air moving. Pushing. Twisting, like a tiny tornado. Another time we went, it was more like a pulsing feeling, as if pressure deep underground was trying to find a way out. My sisters and I combed the whole area, and we couldn’t trace it to any particular point. It was more like a general feeling.” Then she looked left, over the wall of the valley. “Airport Mesa was similar. One time, I felt it. Another time, nothing.” Then she sucked in a deep breath and whispered, “But the vortex at our ranch is different.”

I waited and waited, then finally cued her. “Different, how?”

She studied me, hesitating, then finally explaining. “It has a smaller outlet.” She curled a hand into a fist and tapped the top, where her thumb wrapped around her fingers. “Like this. And it’s much, much more powerful.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How powerful?”

She bit her lip, then motioned for me to hold out my hand vertically, palm facing her.

“The other vortexes are like this.” She blew softly at my hand.

It tickled, making the caveman part of my soul all hot and horny.

“At most, you feel this.” She placed her hand flat over mine, pressing gently. So gently, I dreamed of her doing the same with her other hand. Or better yet, pressing against me with her whole body.

I coughed before Erin caught the sound of my dragon humming enthusiastically.

“But the vortex at the ranch is like this.” Erin rammed my hand back so abruptly, it nearly smacked my shoulder.

I whipped it aside, then smoothed the sting away. “Okay, okay. I get the picture.”

She frowned. “I don’t think you do. It’s terrifying.”

I would have chalked that up to exaggeration, because Erin wasn’t terrified of anything — not Harlon, nor Angelina.

But the crack in her voice indicated, I mean it. Truly terrifying.

“Terrifying because…?” I finally ventured.

“Because I don’t know where it’s coming from or what it wants. Because there’s no off switch. The best you can do is keep away from it.” She rubbed the center of her hand. “Terrifying because I fear what Harlon could do if he tapped into it.”

I frowned. “Could he?”

“You tell me.”

I scratched my head. “My training didn’t cover vortexes.”

She laughed dryly. “What a pity.”

I studied her closely. “What does your father say?” When her eyes flashed, I stuck up my hands. “Just a question, not an accusation.”

Still, she kept up that evil eye thing. “He’s more in touch with air than earth.”

The words might as well have been capitalized and underlined like key terms in a warlock’s dictionary. Come to think of it, the grizzled old eagle shifter who’d taught Introduction to Witches and Warlocks at the academy really did capitalize and underline them.

Witches and warlocks often have an affinity for one of the four core elements, he’d said, tapping away at the chalkboard. Earth, Air, Fire, Water. However, it’s rare for a witch or warlock to really master them. Those who do are the most powerful.

Like Harlon.

“It doesn’t matter what I think Harlon is capable of,” Erin said grimly. “What matters is that he thinks he can use the vortex. And that’s what scares me.”

I nodded slowly. As a shifter, I was immune to any magic a warlock might turn on me directly — like mindspells, for example. But warlocks could use their magic to turn objects — even living beings — into weapons. In my time with the agency, I’d been bombarded by everything from cars to boulders, and I’d had to fight humans, animals, and even swarms of killer bees that had been turned against me.

But, crap. A warlock with access to a vortex would be like a doped-up athlete. Invincible — at least to anyone playing by the rules.

So, we’ll have to fight dirty, my dragon huffed.

Something told me it wasn’t that simple.

“What can you do with the vortex?” I asked Erin.

She snorted. “I can stay the hell away, that’s what. And keep others away.”

“Using what powers?”

She shook her head. “No powers. Nothing to speak of anyway.”

“And yet, your father is a warlock.”

“I don’t take after that side of the family.”

I pounced on that opening. “What about your mother? Is she a witch?”

Erin’s features went hard. “What she is doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe it does.”

“Nothing about her is relevant.” Erin’s fiery reply practically slammed me backward. “She’s barely even a mother.”

Ouch. Definitely a sore point.

I went on more gently. “I’m just trying to understand how this all fits together. You said it yourself — if we’re going to stop Harlon, we have to share what we know.”

She shook her head firmly. “We share what’s relevant. And my mother is no more relevant to this than the color of my underwear.”

And, whoosh! Off went my dragon with his own sultry fantasies.

Ivory, with beige trim.

“Color of your underwear, huh?”

“Just a random example.” She crossed her arms, putting a firm end to that subject. “There. I’ve shared what I know. Your turn.”

I blinked, trying to get my mind off her panties. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Who are you? What are you?”

I scratched my chin, buying time. How much could I afford to reveal?

She huffed, impatient. “Okay, let me narrow it down for you. You’re not human. Not a warlock. Not a vampire. That leaves shifter. The question is, what kind?”

I went very, very still, half hoping she would guess, half hoping to protect my secret. One of them anyway.

“How much do you know about shifters?” I ventured.

She squared her jaw. “Enough.”

A bluff, and I knew it. Well, I could bluff too.

“If I said wolf …” I suggested, watching her carefully.

My dragon grumbled. You must be joking.

“And wolves are somehow immune to warlocks?” She wrinkled her nose as if to test my scent, then nodded, cutting me to the bone. Did she really take me for a lowly canine?

I instantly regretted my words, sensing they could come back to bite me — no pun intended. But it was too late now, so I nodded. “With training, yes.”

“What about vampires?” She leaned closer. “You know, like whatshername. Angelina. Are you immune to them?”

And, ouch. If the canine part stung, the reminder of Angelina was a full-body slam against a brick wall.

“No. Not immune,” I admitted through clenched teeth.

Erin let an awkward moment tick by. Was she graciously giving me time to collect myself or enjoying the sight of me wallowing in self-pity?

“Too bad,” she finally murmured. Another few seconds passed before she went on. “How do you know Angelina?”

Not Do you know her, but How . God, was it that obvious?

I stalled. In one sense, I knew Angelina intimately. We hadn’t actually had sex, but we’d gotten close. Close enough for her to fog my senses with her vampire allure and—

I practically gasped for fresh air, shoving away the hazy memories.

Biggest mistake of your life. My dragon, as always, made it perfectly clear who was to blame.

I cleared my throat. “The agency is a top-secret group of humans and supernaturals who keep tabs on other supernaturals that are deemed a threat. Angelina led the vampire-resistance part of the training program.”

The part I’d flunked — spectacularly. Not that I planned to elaborate on that detail.

“I specialized in warlocks,” I finished, edging away from the subject.

Erin studied me long and hard. Most folks learned about you from what you said. But Erin paid equal attention to what you didn’t say, and I had the uneasy feeling she saw right into me.

At least she had the grace to let me off fairly gently.

“Is Angelina still with the agency?”

I shook my head. “From what I hear, she left a few months ago.”

“And now she’s hanging out with Harlon?” Erin shook her head. “Maybe someone should be investigating her .”

I nearly snorted, picturing the skeletons waiting to be discovered in Angelina’s closets — literally. She was far too devious to get caught, though.

Erin tapped her fingers. “Look, I hate to pry, but if you two have some history, and it could be related to her turning up now…”

My face went stony. I’d been wondering the same thing. Was that coincidence, or had Angelina tracked me here? On the other hand, she hadn’t made a move to hunt me down since our disastrous tryst the previous spring. Why would she want to now?

“Her turning up now has nothing to do with me,” I said. “I’m sure of it.”

“She did seem awfully interested in you at Harlon’s party. And the way she homed in on you, despite all those other people there…”

Bile rose in my throat. Angelina could pick me out from a crowd of a thousand men — unless she’d also tasted the blood of the other 999 of them.

“Nothing to do with me,” I repeated in a tight, flat tone.

Erin stuck up her hands. “Just asking. We said we’d share what we know.”

“We share what’s relevant,” I grunted. “Like you said.”

“ Touché, ” she muttered. “ Touché. ”

I cursed myself, because we were back where we’d started — each in our opposite corners of the boxing ring, studying the other for an opening.

Finally, I puffed out my cheeks and gave in. “Sorry. It’s a touchy subject. No offense.”

“None taken,” she said, all calm and businesslike.

Yep, we really were back where we’d started, with Erin eyeing me closely.

“What?” I finally demanded.

She shrugged. “Maybe whatever happened between you and Angelina isn’t relevant. But the fact that she’s working with Harlon is. So, here’s the million-dollar question. You think you can take on Harlon. But can you take on Angelina?”

I opened my mouth, ready to swear I could. But once my brain caught up…

A long, awkward silence stretched in which Erin’s eyes bored into me.

“Great,” she finally muttered, turning her glare upon the landscape.

My cheeks burned, and I ground my teeth, wishing I could go back in time and undo all those mistakes.

An owl hooted, telling me, Fat chance, buster.

“Look,” I gritted out. “If I turn out to be a liability, I swear, I will leave this to you. But right now, I’m all you’ve got.”

“I have my sisters,” she shot back fiercely.

I stuck up my hands. “You do. And I’m sure they’re as badass as you…”

Damn right, we are, Erin’s expression said.

“…but unless they’re trained in identifying and containing supernaturals, I’m your best bet. For now, at least.”

Erin’s dour look said she wasn’t convinced.

I shook my head, trying to get the conversation back on track. “Look, you and I aren’t enemies. Harlon is the enemy.”

“And Angelina,” Erin added.

I sighed. “And Angelina.”

For the next few minutes, crickets chirped while we studied the stars.

Finally, Erin sighed, as if resigned to her fate — and to me, her not-good-enough ally.

“So, where do we go from here?” she asked.

Part of me swelled a little, because that implied she trusted me — at least enough to get us started. Another part of me sank. What if her trust was misplaced?

“Harlon is scheduled to leave town tomorrow, right?”

“We can only hope,” Erin muttered.

“That gives us some time to investigate. I could put out some feelers with guys I know in the agency — trustworthy guys.”

She nodded slowly. “I can look into things here in town. Like exactly what Harlon is up to. Maybe I can track down the architect who drafted the plans in his office.”

I nodded, then touched her arm. And, zing! There they went again — those hopeful crackles of energy, like we were on a first date instead of embarking on a potentially lethal venture.

“We have to be careful. You have to be careful,” I warned.

Her eyes flashed, and she bared her teeth, making me glad she was on my side. “I’ll make sure Harlon’s the one who has to be careful.”

With that, she stared into the night, wondering, perhaps, what she had just gotten herself into.