Bigfoots Don't Do Mini Coopers (Kate Storm Book 1) (11 page)

“
I’m Kate.” I held out my hand to meet his as I stepped forward. “I’d be delighted to help you find your perfect partner.”

I kept the smile too, even as I gripped his hand, whispered my truth spell and found out he was a lying cretin.

Jeez, and everyone says appearances can be deceiving when it comes to the HC. Claud “Smith” Potier took the Oscar.

I wasn
’t entirely clear on how he had figured out that I was  a witch, but he knew the HC existed. Or at least some of them.

He was a certified xenologist who had taken
up residence four doors down from my own apartment and liked to spy on me. I hadn’t cast my spell quickly enough the other night.

Claud had caught a quick glimpse of Bigfoot. He didn
’t want to find a wife. He had visions of his picture on Time magazine with the dead - and preferably stuffed body - of Bigfoot right next to him.

16. Burning Demons.

I set down the furniture spray and eyeballed the waiting area. Not bad. Actually, all the cleaning I had done was total overkill. I
’d done a little extra sprucing up right before the senator’s interview.

The past two hours of sweeping, vacuuming, dusting and polishing had been totally unnecessary. In terms of cleaning.

From my terrified and irritated psyche’s point of view, it had been an absolute necessity.

I
’ve always found cleaning to be therapeutic. Sure, as a witch, I could simply conjure up a good spell and be done in seconds. But then I would lose out on the rhythmic motions of a broom in my hands, the fresh scent of lemon filling the air as I Pledged the wooden end tables and the satisfactory shine of a freshly scrubbed room. Mindless and monotonous, cleaning has always soothed my ragged nerves.

My tiny apartment had been utterly spotless - in an obsessively OCD way - for a good two years straig
ht after Mom passed.

Now, I had a little perspective. And a sparkling office.

In regards to the terrified part of my psyche - I had not been involved in the senator’s murder. And while both Brown and Blue Jacket were in stubborn denial of their true feelings, they were extremely competent detectives.

My contact with the senator had been extremely limited. I had no motive. I hadn
’t been able to come up with any way I could be linked to senator Tom Crawford’s death or to the moving of his body after it had been murdered. I’d survived one frame job. I would get through this one as well.

I
’d successfully managed to calm my nerves on that end.

In regards to my irritated par
t - I’d played along with Claud Potier’s little act. I’d dutifully taken down his information while we both sized each other up.

I
’m telling you - people see a curly haired woman and just automatically assume we are stupid. Claud left, smug in his belief I’d been completely snowed and nearly rubbing his hands together in anticipation of exposing Bigfoot.

He irked me to no end. 1) I hate liars and 2) Anyone who wants to expose the HC is automatically on my shit list.

Although, technically Bigfoot isn’t a part of the HC.

Regardless, I may not be a card-carrying member - or even a member who is just a hint above being tolerated - but I am still part of that group, despite their feelings towards me. So is Morgan. So is Big Al. And I don
’t take threats against my friends lightly.

Not even the ones that aren
’t really my friends and I might have run over and then dumped on my pull-out while I tried to heal them.

However, I had several advantages over Claud: I was onto his evil scheme and he had no clue. He couldn
’t get past the protective spell I’d cast over my apartment - and apparently he had tried twice while I’d been out. And a xenologist was no match for a witch.

I was still irked that I
’d been taken in by his deceptive appearance, but I had magic and some amazingly creative and slightly felonious friends on my side.

Speaking of those potential jailbirds, I
’d managed to work in a little mental cleansing on my worries from last night.

Al did love me. He had totally unrealistic expectations in regards to our rela
tionship, but he did love me. I couldn’t begrudge him his efforts at jealousy. They’d worked. And he did need to find someone to fall in love with. Albeit, a female of the canine persuasion would be preferable.

We would be fine.

The same went for Morgan. It grated that she had lied to me. Nerves still exposed and raw, but underneath the hurt, a solidity. Morgan loved me as well. I knew this. Felt it in my bones.

Not to say that whatever the problem was - however big or terrible - it wouldn
’t be a challenge. I was not looking forward to confronting Morgan. And she clearly was not ready to let me in on the problem. But we would get through it.

Amazing what a little sprucing up could do for one
’s psyche.

The front door opened and Ash walked in.

My psyche blew a raspberry.

I hadn
’t even tried to tackle my troubles with Ash while cleaning.

Al and Morgan I could handle. They were both huge components of my life I could, and consistently would, deal with because deep down, under whatever garbage heaps of crap we h
ad to cope with, I knew we loved each other.

I didn
’t know what kind of foundation Ash and I had. If any.

But damn, did my hormones sit up and my heart flutter each and every time I saw him.

He had to duck slightly to avoid hitting his leather clothed  horns on the door frame as well as shift his shoulders to fit his upper chest through.

I can be a shallow witch at times. And at times like this I
’m not ashamed of it. That demon’s body is a beautiful sight to behold.

“
I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Usually after one of  our fights, either Ash or my witchy self would find an excuse to avoid each other for a day or two. Which is why we were still in the early “getting to know you stage” after a good three weeks of dating.

“
I came to take you out to lunch.”

Sunlight played over some of his scars and created shadows along his lower cheek and neck where the ridges were thick and raised.

I crossed my arms. Just under my breasts. Which raised them just a touch. Ash zeroed in.

“
I’m surprised you have time. You seem to have so much to do.” And why the hell wasn’t I the most important one?

I took a deep breath. My breasts swelled nicely. Ash
’s eyes heated.

“
I don’t want to fight.” He didn’t look up as he spoke. “You didn’t get a chance to eat last night. Let me make that up to you.”

I prepared to blast him again. The sunlight shifted. Exposing new scars and hiding others.

Ash never acknowledged them. He didn’t try to hide them and he didn’t talk about them either. He acted as if they didn’t exist. Those painful marks of his past.

Some of us have no choice in how our our vulnerabilities are exposed.

My fingers flexed for my wand.

“
I expect to eat my burger and fries this time.” I picked up the Pledge and dust rag and headed over to the closet. When I turned around, Ash raised his gaze from his inspection of my generous backside.

“
You’ll get to eat this time.” Amber swirled through his eyes. “I promise.”

Well, I hoped so. A good cosmopolitan side dish would go a lo
ng way toward easing the last of my inner turmoil right now.

****

“You never talk about your family.”

My french fry skidded in the ketchup, shoving a sizable plop of the red stuff over the edge of my plate and onto the white formica.

“My family?” My stomach flip-flopped. Hard. Twice.

Ash and I hadn
’t gotten around to sharing personal details. He had his secrets and I had mine and if he wasn’t going to share, then why should I? At least that’s what I kept telling myself. It had nothing to do with how he would view me. Absolutely nothing.

I grabbed a napkin and began cleaning up the small mess. “
You’ve never mentioned your family either.”

Two could play at this game. He
’d dodge the question, then I . . .

“
My mother died when I was born. I killed my father. I don’t have any other relatives.”

I blinked several times. Played back his words in my head.

“You killed your father?” Surely I had misunderstood. Demons aren’t the most loving of creatures, but they all came from parents and that meant families, right? What did I truly know about life in the Demon realm? Very, very little.

He
’d murdered his own father? Spirits, I couldn’t imagine. It was awful. Worse than that. Traumatic. Horrific. Vile. I didn’t know the details. Wasn’t sure I wanted to. Family was everything to me.

I
’d been telling myself I didn’t push Ash or ask questions because I couldn’t quite trust him. I’d lied. I didn’t ask questions, I didn’t test our relationship, such as it was, I didn’t do anything that might actually stray into personal grounds because I was flat out scared. Terrified. Panicked we’d end up right where we were now. And I’d have to tell him the truth. He didn’t know. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t want me when he did know. No one ever did.

I
’d never considered Ash would have his own secrets. Ones that
I
might not be able to handle.

Heat simmered in the air over Ash
’s shoulders. Black lines edged through his amber pupils. His left hand lifted as if to touch his face before he aborted the movement and set his fist carefully on the table.

He nodded. “
Yes. I killed him.” Ash met my shocked gaze with his blank one.

I fumbled for something to say. I guessed this was the story behind his scars. Something worse than the nightmares I had conjured up. Something truly evil.

“How is everything?”

I kept my gaze locked on Ash. “
Everything is great, Candy.”

She chattered on about something menial. The black lines in his eyes grew thicker, overtaking the amber. Ash looked away.

He locked his shoulders, both huge fists clenched in front of him. The knuckles a shocking white against his dark skin.

He looked away.

Sweet Spirits, I knew this pose. I’d lived this a thousand times.

And it damn near broke my heart to see Ash braced for my rejection. How could I possibly turn away from him as so many ha
d turned from me?

He may have had a choice in his fate. I
’d never had one. In the HC world it didn’t matter. Strength, power and survival did.

Weakness was an obscenity. And if you weren
’t immortal you were weak.

Candy left. I covered the tops of both his
fists with my hands. I wanted to feel his skin against mine one last time. “It’s just my aunt and myself. My mother died seven years ago. My father died when I was an infant.” I swallowed. “He was human.”

Leaving me a cursed, very mortal witch
. Part of two different communities, never belonging to either.

Ash froze. His fists seemed to grow cold under my touch. He met my gaze. I didn
’t look away. I couldn’t. I had to face this one head on. Even as my heart began to crumble.

I wanted to smile, p
aste on an aloof look, something, anything, to keep him from knowing I was slowly dying inside. I wanted to be strong. I couldn’t. Murder is one thing in the HC community. Even one as disturbing as one’s own parent. Weakness is something entirely different.

An abomination.

And no one wants an abomination.

I began to pull back. Ash twisted his hands and caught mine, gripped them completely. Refusing to let me pull away.

I didn’t know why. Didn’t really care at this precise moment.

A familiar quaking started
in my stomach. I had a couple minutes, maybe less, before I came apart. I’d fought this battle so many times before. Too many.

Human trash.

Half breed.

Filth.

Maybe it hadn’t been fair to not tell him the truth. Maybe we should have had this conversation at the beginning. Maybe I  deserved his anger. Maybe I was a selfish scaredy-cat.

I could have spared myself this pain right from the start.

And yet I’d chosen to remain silent.

None of that mattered right now. The only thing I had left was my pride. To w
alk out while I still had something left. Before I shattered.

I jerked against his hold. He pulled on my arms until I was stretched over the formica. Heat and red hot flames sizzled and popped over his shoulders in uncontrolled bursts.

The trembles worked their way out of my stomach and along my arms.

In our quid pro quo game of “
my secret is worse than yours” I was about to win. Top honors, grab the trophy and the flowers.

I knew and understood this. I just didn
’t have to like it.

In fact, I hated it. Wit
h every fiber of my being.

“
Did you hear what I said?”

“
Yes,” I nodded. He’d killed his father. I’d heard him say it, understood the words, had no idea as to the why or if I could conscientiously condone his actions, but what did any of that matter?

I
’d just told him I was mortal.

An abomination.

Ash frowned. His hands clenched over mine. I gasped. Damn, he was strong.

He immediately eased up on his grip. Frowned at me some more.