Page 3 of A Match Made in Coven
As she reached the bottom, her eyes widened at the unexpected sight before her. The basement gym was well lit, a stark contrast to the darkened rooms above, granting her a clear view of Lorcan Black jogging on a state-of-the-art treadmill.
He was facing in the other direction, the muscles of his back rippling under his sweaty, bare skin as he ran. Even at this late hour, his form was impeccable, each stride powerful and precise.
Who works out at 1 a.m.?Sarah Michelle mused quietly.Is he burning calories or trying to appease a guilty conscience?
Duty slipped her mind as she took in her mark. The photograph from the murder scene hadn’t done him justice. In person, Lorcan was taller, his presence commanding, even from behind.
Her jaw clenched as she studied his broad frame, the golden hair, the curve of his shoulders. The powerful legs pounding the treadmill belt. And the muscular arms pumping at his sides that made her squeeze her thighs in response.
Gargoyles, she was this affected, and she hadn’t even seen his face yet. Any second now, he could turn and fix those penetrating eyes on her. If seeing a mere picture of them from afar had been so unsettling, what would the real thing do to her?
He was running with headphones on, likely why he hadn’t heard them ring the bell or enter the house. She chided herself, remembering she was on the clock.
With a subtle flick of her hand, she sent a small, innocuous pinch of power his way—and okay, she didn’t need to smack the magic over his buttocks, but they had been too inviting.
The effect was immediate. The sudden sensation yanked Lorcan from his workout trance, and he froze mid-stride on the treadmill, stumbling as the belt kept going. Showing prompt reflexes, he leaped onto the side bars not to be dragged down. After regaining his footing, he turned off the machine and faced her, removing the headphones with a fluid, lazy motion.
When their gazes met, Sarah Michelle’s grip tightened on the matte-black stunner gun she kept aimed at the wizard. The eye contact was as unnerving as she’d predicted, making her stomach clench while something inside her wanted to scream.
Lorcan Black seemed much more in control. His head reared in consternation at the gun, but he was surprisingly quick to recover. Too soon, a charming smile curved his lips—a smile that would no doubt throw most witches off balance. But Sarah Michelle saw straight through the pleasant façade. This man was way too calm for someone who’d just found a cop in his house facing him at gunpoint. Was he expecting them? Or did he consider himself above the law, like the rest of his family? Whatever the reason, he couldn’t be trusted. He was a Black, after all, and a murder suspect, no less.
She flipped her service weapon to the side, a silent command for him to step away from the training machine. Lorcan complied, his movements graceful despite the weapon pointed at his chest.
“No need for the gun, officer,” he said smoothly, his rich voice calm as if they were old friends meeting for coffee rather than enforcer and suspect. “I’m a law-abiding citizen.”
The rasping timbre in his words wrapped around Sarah like a velvet cloak, creating a disconcerting intimacy that had her clenching the stunner gun harder. Despite her unwanted, inner reaction, Sarah Michelle kept her gaze steady, refusing to let his magnetic charm sway her focus. She wasn’t here for pleasantries. She was here to get answers—to catch a killer.
Chapter Three
Showered with Suspicion
LORCAN
In the bright light of his basement gym, Lorcan studied the cop witch, who was scowling at him with an air of open hostility. The morose expression did nothing to lessen her striking beauty—the shimmering bob of black-blue hair, the warm depths of her brown eyes, and the flawless golden hue of her skin.
Since the witch hadn’t spoken yet, Lorcan put it on himself to break the ice.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Salem MPD?” he asked with a crooked smile, reaching for a towel to wipe the sweat running down his torso.
But the witch trailed the movement with her stunner gun, prompting him to stop mid-motion and lift his hands in surrender instead. Ah, he was keeping his perspiration, then.
Her full lips flattened into a thin line. “Mr. Black, you are a person of interest in an ongoing investigation.” Her tone was frosty, guarded.
Lorcan frowned. Him, a person of interest? In what, exactly? A hundred questions swirled in his mind. Before he could voice any of them, the witch spoke again, anticipating his queries.
“You need to come with us to the station for questioning.”
Hex, that couldn’t be good. But at least, after studying him for another interminable moment, the magical law enforcer sheathed the gun at her belt. Phew, he wasn’t about to be stunned.For now. The witch might have put the weapon away, but her glare hadn’t softened at all.
“Am I under arrest?” His pulse sped up.
“Not currently. But we have a search warrant.” She snapped her fingers, and a roll of parchment materialized in her hand. She thrust it at him brusquely.
The thick vellum creaked as Lorcan unrolled it. The elaborate calligraphy of the document shimmered, the jet-black ink still glistening with remnants of the conjuring spell. It was legit, stamped with the official seal of the Department of Magical Justice.
“Gargoyles,” Lorcan muttered under his breath.
He listened in the quiet and, sure enough, muffled footsteps were audible upstairs. Armed witches really were swarming his house looking for… what?
