Page 103 of Outlaw Witch

So, yeah, I’m currently experiencing strongfeelingslike I’ve never had before. I’ve never let my guard down enough to allow myself to. But Fabiangetsme. He gets the weird mama bear instincts that drive a lot of the decisions I make. And I’m finally starting to come around to the idea that him knowing some of my secrets is a good thing.

He doesn’t know all of them. Or at least I don’t think he does. He’s never come out and specified exactly what he knows about me. But he at least partly understands why I live the way that I do.

And it pisses him off.

The number of conversations we’ve had where he’s gotten somadon my behalf—onourbehalf. And he’s forthright about wanting to change that.

We’ve not exactly done much since the incident in the shower, apart from sharing a few kisses here and there. It’s positively cute. Like we’re a couple of teenagers that have to get their kicks in by holding hands and dry humping.

Less cute are the reasons we’ve put a go-slow on any physical interactions. It’s partly because Fabian’s not in much of a fit state right now. And partly because if I end up having to stop his heart, he doesn’t want my feelings to run too deep or be too complicated.

... although it’s a bit late for all that. Still, it’s sweet that he’s concerned and his dick has had to pay the price.

All of which has resulted in me feeling all kinds of gooey over this mage. Which means leaving him alone right now has me feeling all off-kilter. That’s probably why I feel like I might crawl right out of my skin. I’m pretty sure I’m just being paranoid.

We step further into the warehouse and find all the lights are off. It’s deserted and doesn’t look remotely like anyone’s gearing up to get a new shipment of whatever it is the Nexus mages are smuggling into the city tonight. The itchy feeling just beneath my skin sets up again as I grab my cell phone and hit the flashlight button.

My gut feeling right at this moment is that something is very wrong.

“What the hell?” Roscoe mutters.

“There should be people here by now, right?” I murmur back, taking a hesitant step forward.

“This place is usually lit up like a damn stadium on nights where we’re expecting a shipment. I dunno what the fuck’s going on here.”

“No one cares that you’re smuggling stuff and not even trying to hide it?” My eyebrows shoot up. Sometimes the privilege of these mages blows my mind.

“It’s nighttime. As long as we’re not rubbing the authorities' faces in it, they turn a blind eye.”

“That and a fuck load of cash,” Zeph adds with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “Sweetens the deal.”

“Right. Well, maybe they’ve switched the night of the shipment or something?” I have no idea how these things work, but maybe the guys have gotten too far away from the actual running of things.

“Nah,” Roscoe replies, linking my hand with his. “I contacted our guy to confirm it was tonight they were doing the drop.”

“You did fucking what?” Zeph growls at him, yanking Roscoe to a stop. Since our hands are intertwined, I stumble to a stop, too.

“I didn’t want us to be fucking around if this wasn’t going down tonight.”

“So, you told them we were coming down here? What the hell, man?”

“I figured it wasn’t a big deal.” Roscoe shrugs, feeling around on the wall until the lights flicker on.

The warehouse is stacked high with boxes all along one side and it’s a miracle none of us walked into any of them while we were walking around blind.

“What the hell? Do you think they switched the time and got all this shit in early? How come no one’s here?” Roscoe grumbles.

“I dunno,” Zeph grouches back. “I guess since we’re here, we should check that the shipment’s all here. Although I thought we fuckin’ paid Gordo to do that shit for us.”

“Well, aren’t the two of you a bundle of fun tonight?” I reply. Seriously, it’s like being stuck with two grouchy grandpas instead of one.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I guess we dragged you down here for nothing.” Roscoe heads for the nearest box and tears it open, pulling out a bunch of packaging before rooting even deeper into the box. “It’s empty.”

“Seriously?” Zeph growls before burying his hands in the next one, and the next.

All empty.

“What the hell is going on here? We’re paying for shipments of empty crates?”

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