Page 28 of A Match Made in Coven
Lorcan eyed the snacks. “Hungry?”
Sarah Michelle just smirked enigmatically. “Drive that way,” she directed, pointing toward a shabbier part of town.
As they turned down increasingly rundown streets, his nerves jangled. Wizards from oldMayflowerfamilies didn’t typically frequent these kinds of neighborhoods. Sarah Michelle must have sensed his unease.
“What’s wrong, rich boy? Not used to slumming it with us common folk?” She sounded amused.
Lorcan gritted his teeth. If only he’d let Salem MPD handle the case and hadn’t insisted on tagging along. He could be back at home right now, feet up with a Frogguccino and the latest issue ofWizard Weekly. Instead, here he was, driving into the seedy underbelly of an unknown town with a smart-mouthed witch who delighted in riling him.
They came to a stop on a dirt road barred by a rusty metal gate. Without hesitation, Sarah Michelle grabbed the cheese sticks and hopped out of the car. She was dressed in civilian clothes today, all black, with her silky hair loose around her shoulders. The effect was just as bewitching as ever. Lorcan thought maybe being in a dump wouldn’t be so bad if he was sharing with her.
As he stepped out to join her, he took in their grim surroundings. A ditch conveniently sized for body disposal ran alongside the road. He eyed Sarah Michelle warily.
“You’re not planning to murder me, are you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She moved closer. That maddening scent of hers wafted over him—fresh rain and vetiver with a smoky, earthy kick that threatened to scramble his wits. “We have to meet with my informant, remember?”
She headed for the gate, vaulting over it with a lithe grace that made Lorcan’s pulse quicken. Hex it, everything she did had become irresistible—the sassy quips, the confident stride, even how she kept threatening to shackle him. It was all getting under his skin in the best way.
Lorcan placed a hand on the gate and swung himself over easily. He didn’t miss her eyes widening in response before she glanced away. Satisfaction thrummed through him. At least he wasn’t the only one fighting an ill-advised attraction. The admiration definitely went both ways.
The heady realization sobered quickly as Lorcan’s feet crunched on the gravel-strewn road. A shiver of apprehension raced up his spine. They were in the middle of nowhere, heading toward an abandoned junkyard. Not another soul in sight.
He caught Sarah Michelle’s elbow, halting her. “Look, I pride myself on being the sort of wizard who rolls with the punches, but seriously, where are we going?”
She jerked her chin at the junkyard. “To see my informant.”
“And who, pray tell, lives here?”
A mysterious smile curved her lips. “Don’t be impatient.”
She continued up the road, but he caught her elbow again, gesturing to the cheese sticks clutched in her other hand. “Why did you bring those?”
Sarah Michelle blew out an exasperated breath. “If you’re scared, Lorcan, feel free to wait in the car.”
Overhead, a crow cawed, a raucous sound in the eerie quiet. Lorcan tilted his head, studying the sky. The sun had disappeared behind ominous gray clouds. Skeletal tree branches reached upward as if seeking escape—a sentiment he was beginning to relate to.
“I’m not scared,” he insisted. Though his galloping heart suggested otherwise.
She rolled her eyes. “Police work isn’t for everyone. You should’ve let me come alone.”
“Or we could’ve asked the bouncer at the casino,” Lorcan retorted. “He knew where the clandestine operations were. All we had to do was spell the information out of him.”
“If you were a real cop, you’d know we can’t use magic on unsuspecting humans unless it’s life or death.”
Lorcan cast another glance at the rusted metal and scattered debris. “Spend much more time here, and I’m pretty sure it will be death.”
“I didn’t ask you to come—the opposite, in fact. If you want to tag along, quit whining.”
“I’m not whining—” Lorcan began, then realized it was nearly impossible to say that without sounding like he was whining. He cleared his throat. “I’m just saying we should’ve brought a better weapon than cheese sticks.”
She patted her belt. “If push comes to shove, I’ve got my stunner.” Tilting her head, she smiled, a flash of white teeth against her bronzed skin.
That smile tugged at something in his chest, and Lorcan silently cursed himself for a fool. A smitten fool.
“Need me to hold your hand?” Her tone was sweet as a poisoned apple.
She was openly mocking him, and that tug in his chest happened again. He was a besotted idiot, and the witch had wrapped a magic lasso around his heart. Pointedly keeping his hands jammed in his pockets, Lorcan strode past her, heading directly toward what was likely certain doom.
