Chapter Eight

ERIN

I did my best to mimic the glassy-eyed, waking-up-from-a-dream state Madden and the other guests stumbled around in once they’d disembarked. Harlon, on the other hand, was eagle-eyed.

“Lovely flight. Just lovely,” he said, quietly studying each face, including mine.

My heart raced as I shut off the propane and disengaged the rigging that connected the basket to the balloon. My thoughts raced too, though I tried to exude the same airheaded vibes Harlon’s young groupies did. But gee, was that hard. His gaze was a heavy hand pressing on me, and when he finally moved it away, I gulped in relief. Then I did my own spying.

John and Chico hadn’t heard Harlon over the radio, but Nash had been listening as attentively as me. Had he really fallen for Harlon’s magic, or was it all a bluff?

Which creek was that they flew over?

An innocent question — or an attempt to fool me?

I watched as Nash helped John and Chico fold then roll the balloon. The guy was six feet of muscle and mystery and, as always, impossible to read.

“Come along, everyone.” Madden motioned the guests to the picnic basket I’d set out by the van. “Time for breakfast and champagne.”

The groupies giggled and followed Harlon like so many trained corgis. I watched as they raised champagne flutes and munched on bagels. From what I’d heard, warlocks were amazing in bed. Though, yuck — I’d always avoided that topic, given that my dad was one. Was that what attracted them to Harlon, or was it his money? Both?

Spotting Madden next, I scowled, half wishing he would choke and die. Well, not really, but I was tempted to strangle him.

That’s Painted Rock, he’d told Harlon. And that green line there is the creek. They say there’s a fifth, hidden vortex out there.

Yes, there was. Operative word, hidden . What the hell had Madden been thinking, spilling the beans like that?

And, shit. How did he even know when only a few locals did?

Of course, Madden might have just been spouting something he’d overheard, as he often did. It just happened to be right for a change.

Either way, this was bad, bad news.

It’s just a matter of paperwork to get zoning for a whole resort.

Over my dead body. My great-aunt had fought off developers for her entire life, and my sisters and I had sworn to do the same. We’d done our best to keep our property off the radar, but with real estate prices in Sedona skyrocketing, that was hard.

I’m a very persuasive man, Harlon had said.

I snorted. That was true of all warlocks, whose magic multiplied their natural, seductive charm. It was true of my father too. But where my dad’s magic was playful and benign, Harlon’s was dark and preying. Plus, my father didn’t go around enchanting people, and he certainly couldn’t overwrite other people’s memories.

Of course, that was partly because the magic he wielded was unique. Elemental was what my great-aunt called it. That’s why Dad was always roaming the West on his motorcycle — he needed that connection to the earth, sky, and wind.

Especially wind, part of me sighed, thinking of the sandstorms he set off from time to time. Some for fun, some by accident, when he was especially mad, sad, or joyous. But even then, Dad was just the match. The kindling was already there, and once that was ignited, there was no telling when Mother Nature might get carried away and let it blow, blow, blow.

The breeze teased my hair, reminding me I had no such powers.

“Miss Sattler.”

I nearly jumped. Harlon seemed to appear right beside me. Could the man jump time and space too?

I turned to him with a fake smile. “Oh, hello. Did you enjoy the flight?”

He nodded. “I’m so glad you suggested it. The views over Oak Creek were lovely.”

A test, and I knew it. Luckily, the right comeback jumped to my tongue.

“Yes, there’s nothing like flying over vineyards, is there?”

He nodded in satisfaction. Whew.

“My only disappointment is that you couldn’t fly with us.”

Boy, did the man know how to hit all the right notes. Too bad he was such scum.

I managed a regretful smile. “Maybe some other time. But didn’t you say you were leaving Sedona soon?”

“Yes, I have a few meetings on my calendar. I’ll be off for Chicago, then London…”

Ha. I quietly awarded myself bonus points for guessing correctly.

“…but not before hosting a small party here.” He pulled a card from his pocket. “Tomorrow night. I would love it if you could attend.”

His expectant air indicated I ought to throw up my hands and gush, Wow! I’d love that. But with all my inner alarms clanging, I was closer to Hell no. Not a party hosted by a warlock.

I pictured witches and vampires mingling with clueless businessmen and Harlon’s groupies. Not that the witches would be sporting pointy black hats. More like designer cocktail dresses, with the only giveaways being hairdos and bustlines that defied gravity. The vampires wouldn’t be flashing their teeth, but sipping Bloody Marys while quietly eyeing the necks of any sweet young thing who wandered by.

“Tomorrow night, huh?” My mind spun for plausible excuses.

“Yes, at six. I would be delighted if you could attend.”

His voice took on that singsong tone he’d used on the guests, and the air around me went as warm and cozy as a blanket. If I hadn’t been aware of Harlon’s powers, I might have fallen into a sleepy, agreeable state.

Oh, I’d love to attend your stupid party. And, sure. Let me sell you the ranch too.

It made me sick to think I might have fallen for his tricks.

The thing was, he would be onto me if I didn’t agree.

“At six?” I asked, stalling.

He nodded, and the blanket trying to blur my mind wrapped around my shoulders too. And, yikes. It was one thing to resist Harlon’s magic when it came through the filter of a radio. Resisting it in person, standing face-to-face…

Deep in my pockets, I clenched my hands, determined not to give in.

“Five o’clock would be even better,” he said. “I would love to tap into your knowledge of the area. Maybe we could even talk business.”

Until then, the alarms in my mind had been the beeping, digital-watch kind. Now, they whooped like firehouse sirens.

“Business?” I echoed stupidly.

His warm smile was engineered to put me at ease, but the effect was the opposite. “I hope to return to Sedona regularly. It’s the perfect place to relax and entertain guests.”

Entertain…as in, on the resort he planned to build on my ranch if he could get his dirty hands on it?

I could picture it now, the third hole of a golf course smothering what had once been the east paddock.

Harlon grinned. “My plans are still in the earliest stages, but I like to think big. Such as keeping a balloon pilot on retainer for my guests to be able to fly whenever they wish.” He chuckled. “Of course, I’d need to buy a balloon too, but I suppose you could advise me on that.”

I blinked. Wow. Did he know how much balloons cost? Not to mention the expense of keeping a pilot around for the rare day guests might hanker for a last-minute, early-morning flight?

Then again, developing the brambles of a remote ranch into a lush resort had to cost millions, so why not throw in a pilot’s salary and a balloon?

Admittedly, my heart skipped a few beats. What a dream job. Lots of downtime. No marketing. Just a handful of guests at a time. I even went as far as wondering if they might tip.

Then I caught myself. No, no, no. That was not a dream job. Not if that land was mine — or any of the other last parcels of unspoiled land in the area. And especially not if my boss was a scheming warlock.

I blinked. “Wow. You really do think big.”

He grinned. “And I’m very persuasive.”

He meant it like a joke, but I caught the threat beneath.

I forced a polite laugh. “I’m sure you are.”

“So, you’ll come, then?”

“I’d love to, but I doubt my closet has anything appropriate.” A weak attempt, but it was all I could think of. And it was absolutely true. For me, dressing up meant decent jeans, a clean shirt, and spit-polished boots.

Harlon threw back his head, laughing. “Miss Sattler, you can come as you are now and still light up the party.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. He was just buttering me up, right? There was no way I could compete with his fashion-model groupies with their big tits, crop tops, and flat bellies. I could only imagine what they would wear to his party. Off-the-shoulder dresses with super-high leg slits? Skintight sheaths they’d have to wiggle into like worms?

The groupies moved in like restless cattle, unhappy with Harlon’s attention on me, not them.

“Oh, Harlon…” Groupie Girl One called.

“More champagne?” Groupie Girl Two threw in, hefting a bottle.

Nash moved in too, looking equally alarmed. I scowled. Was he going to warn me off Harlon like he’d warned me away from my father?

And, wait. That would make Nash two for two when it came to spotting warlocks. Was he another warlock? Some kind of other supernatural, maybe?

I huffed, tempted to go to Harlon’s party just to spite Nash. The man had to learn to mind his own business.

Then it hit me. Business . If I went to Harlon’s party, I might find out what he was up to. The way he was sneaking around suggested he was keeping his plans under wraps. Heck, even Bob Hardy, the real estate guy, didn’t seem to have a clear idea of what Harlon had planned.

“So, you’ll come?” Harlon thrust his card at me with an unspoken command.

I looked down at the card. His contact details were embossed on the front, and a swanky Sedona address was penciled in on the back in tight, neat print.

Harlon leaned in, turning up the charm. “As I said, I’d love to chat at five.”

The groupies swarmed in like Africanized honeybees. I stepped away, glad to let them reclaim the space around their sugar daddy.

“I’ll be there,” I assured him.

“Wonderful. And don’t worry about the dress code,” Harlon called with a little waggle of his eyebrows, channeling Richard Gere in Pretty Woman .

Well, I was no Julia Roberts about to take off on a spending spree. But I did have a plan.

“Thanks again,” I called, turning back to work.

Five seconds later, Nash grabbed me by the arm, hissing, “You are not going to that snake’s party.”

Lucky for him, I pulled free without jabbing my elbow into his solar plexus. Did he think I was completely stupid? And who was he to tell me what to do?

Still, I flashed a sugar-sweet smile while quietly pocketing Harlon’s card.

“Of course not.”

At least, not without backup. But I wasn’t going to spill my whole plan. A plan with a heck of a lot of details to work out in a very short time.

“On three,” I told the ground crew. “One…two…three.”

We tipped the basket onto its side, then slid it into the trailer. Next, we heaved the rolled-up balloon behind it and finally dusted our hands.

“Our work here is done,” John joked, looking at his watch. “And it isn’t even eight a.m.”

Chico laughed. I pretended to. Nash pinned me with a piercing look I ignored.

Because my work might be done for the morning, but I had a lot to put in place by tomorrow. And the countdown had just begun.