Page 5 of Hooked on a Witch
“Are you going to put that down?”
“No.”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. Chad and I were at the bar last night. Remember him from high school?”
She nodded, recollecting Chad’s obsession for surfing with his bleached blond hair and signature fragrance of sunscreen.
Merck said, “We were playing pool with some out-of-towners—”
“You two are still hustling?” They’d been notorious in high school. Their post-hustle fights landed them in jail once or twice.
“I wouldn’t say we were hustlingper se. When we do, we simply take advantage of people who equate our accents with stupidity.” He flashed a wolfish leer. “It wasn’t hard to miss you singing at the top of your lungs. I guess the tone deafness didn’t improve.”
“I’m not tone-deaf. And I don’t sing in public.”
“You sing when you’re drunk, apparently. I’ve got it videoed on my phone. Wanna see?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“Show me.”
In silence, she watched the minute and a half of her hip-swaying and singing into her cell phone like it was a mike, accompanied by a tinny rendition of a familiar country songon the jukebox. Her face scorched as the terrible off-key performance ran to completion. Who was this woman singing? She didn’t do karaoke or anything that involved performance. Ever. He pulled the phone away when it ended.
“I wasn’t drunk. I don’t remember…that.” She pointed at where he’d put away his phone.
Merck’s eyebrows drooped low. “You were hanging out with this out-of-towner who got you outside after you serenaded the bar, and then you passed out. I can’t say you had a graceful lights-out moment, but I figured you weren’t on board with whatever the guy planned next.”
“Was he Asian?”
“He stuck out like a turd in a punchbowl. You think he slipped you something?” Merck’s gaze darkened. He ran a hand through his short, lightly gelled, blond hair, now so much shorter than he ever used to wear it.
“I didn’t drink anything.”
“He might’ve used a poison. Did you touch anything he gave you?”
The handshake. “Must’ve been something because that woman singing…that’s not me.”
“It could’ve happened to anyone.” His tone was gentle, as if he realized how mortified she was.
“I guess I’m lucky you and Chad were there.” Both of them there might not be coincidence. Perhaps, this was an elaborate hoax to get her to trust him.
“Everyone’s there on Friday night.”
“Did the guy say anything to you?” Such as why the hell he drugged her after she paid him for the scrying glass?
“He said you were drunk and needed a ride home, but I didn’t buy it. So I relieved him of you.” Something about his tone suggested therelievingpart hadn’t been as simple as a verbal exchange.
“What happened exactly?”
He shrugged, dismissive. She’d have to get details from Chad, if she could find him. She could call his dad, who still worked at the tire store in town. She had to find the Asian to get the scrying glass back from him. She’d purchased the thing free and clear. However, this time when she confronted him, she’d take help with her.
“Most drugs would’ve knocked you out for maybe six or seven hours. Not fifteen.” His tone ended it as a question, not a statement. She wasn’t about to get into a discussion of the drug possibly being something magical, a spell or potion. Even though she’d always detected Merck had some sort of preternatural abilities, it wasn’t a topic either of them had discussed. Rule one in being a person with abilities was never be the first to reveal.
“Why were you at the bar?” he asked.
“It’s none of your business.” She finger-combed through a few tangles.
“It’s my business when you almost get yourself kidnapped and...” His voice dropped off.
She refused to answer. Alpha males didn’t scare her.
