Bigfoots Don't Do Mini Coopers (Kate Storm Book 1) (7 page)

The alarm vibrated along with my nerves and I whispered the words to a calming spell.

Morgan brushed past me, lowered the body. Al jumped off and moved back. She sliced a long tear with her nails down the center of the tarp and two more across the bottom and top. Grabbing the edges of the tarp, she toppled the body onto the floor.

The senator rolled once and came to re
st face up.

With the tip of her boot, Morgan flipped the campaign flag out of his shirt and up near his face. She surveyed the scene while she gathered the empty tarp into a ball.

“That’ll work.” She nodded.

“
Disks.”

I peered down at Al, totally confused
. What did disks mean?Al noticed my look and nodded toward a corner of the room. I didn’t see any disks.

Ah
. In the upper corner, a small red dot blipped above a black camera. The senator had security cameras.

“
Got ‘em.” Morgan sauntered back in with a DVD looking disk in hand. “Good thing he was too cheap to go wireless.”

Morgan and Al both tipped their heads as if listening to something. “
There’s the cops.” Al turned and walked out.

“
Time to fly, Kate.”

Morgan pulled out one of her microfiber clothes, rub
bed it over the doorknob and lock and motioned me through the door. She followed right behind me and closed the door with the cloth. She grabbed Al, I grabbed my broom and off we went.

I did a rough calculation on the return flight to my office. It had tak
en us less than four minutes to break and enter into the senator’s campaign office, dump his body, gather up the evidence of our part in the crime and leave.

My calming spell was taking longer than that.

11. Testy Demons.

The meatballs and manicotti were stone cold by the time we got home. Al was not happy, but he settled down after I warmed up a large meatball and added a little extra parmesan.

I put the manicotti in the fridge for lunch the next day.

Bigfoot slept soundly.

I had
twenty minutes before Ash arrived. I’m not much of a dressy witch. Twenty minutes would be plenty of time.

I took off my stained clothing, shrugged into my robe and hurried into the kitchen. Al choked on a meatball chunk just as I opened the cabinet for my
trash can. Right. These were no longer clothes, but potential Exhibit A’s. I yanked out a new trash bag, stuffed my clothes inside and tied it shut.

“
I’ll toss it into someone else’s dumpster tomorrow,” I promised him on my way back to my room. There are way too many pesky little details involved in hiding evidence.

“
You’re getting the hang of it, Doll,” Al shouted after me.

Sweet Spirits, I sincerely hoped not.

I tugged on a pair of jeans. Tugged a little harder over the hips and managed to get them buttoned. Go me.

Opening my closet, I examined my options. Six shirts hung on the hangers and Ash had seen me in five of them already. That left my violet button down with the long black lace overlay on the sleeves.

And reminded me I should schedule a shopping trip sometime during the next week. I could use another pair of biker’s boots too.

After putting my dirty, potential court-ordered proof-of- foul-play boots back on, I dashed into my tiny bathroom. A washcloth - with cold water - took care of my boots. I
caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wished it could do the same for my curls.

Usually, I can find a positive side for nearly any situation. As long as my curls are nowhere in the vicinity. They don
’t even respond to my magic. Which leaves me with hair products. Lots of ‘em.

Do you have any idea how hard it is for a witch with curly hair to find products that will actually work in southeastern Idaho?

All I can say is: Thank the Spirits for the internet.

Currently my curls appeared as if they had dec
ided to sign up for a cross country trip. The right side apparently wanted to tour the West coast and the left wanted to see the East. In a convertible. In the middle of a hurricane. With humidity. Amazonian style humidity.

I have never quite figured out i
f Al and Morgan don’t want to mention the varied and interesting shapes my hair takes on because: a) they don’t want to hurt my feelings, b) they have simply grown immune to the horror or c) their sense of humor is more twisted than mine is.

I turned on the water, grabbed the industrial size bottle of leave-in conditioner and went to work.

I was going to be late for my date.

****

I slid onto the the red plastic sided booth. Ash sat down across from me on the other side. And promptly gathered my legs in between his. His boots touched mine, legs pressed tight to my calves and crowding up alongside my thighs.

He is a very touchy-feely demon. One could go so far as to say he
craves
physical contact. Although I wouldn’t recommend saying it within a couple miles of where he could hear you.

From what I
’ve been told and what little - VERY little - I’ve gathered from Ash, the demon realm is a desolate place.

Try a barren rocky wasteland with the occasional skin peeling steam vents near rivers of molte
n lava, and to round it all off, the periodic comforting volcano.

Basically it
’s hell.

No flowers, no scents other than ash and burning things, no birds chirping, no cushy mattress to hug your body at night. Nothing soft.

Even the female demons are hard. The demona have thick, rough skin, horns and razor sharp claws.

Our realm is like the forbidden candy store to Ash. And right now he considers me to be the cherry on top of his coveted ice cream.

I’m of two halves with that. With the first half - the cynical, logical one - there is this part of me that frets over what the heck I am going to do when he decides he doesn’t want me anymore. I’m not being pessimistic, I promise you. I’ve just never had anyone outside of my family and Morgan want to spend time with me. Plus I’m cursed.

I
’m not a wimpy witch either and I don’t base my life around the decisions of a certain male demon, however, I’m pretty far gone over Ash. What he feels for me is still a mystery. Men in general are bad enough when it comes to communication. Demons are in their own realm. Literally.

The second half of my self - the larger and decidedly hormonal one - just screams “
Wahooooo!”. Honestly, what witch wouldn’t want to be his little cherry? Ash is the epitome of every naughty fantasy I’ve ever had and all the ones I never thought to consider.

His size alone makes various areas of my body squirm. The fact he fit in the booth with his legs under the table is quite a feat. Ash is a VERY BIG demon.

Every section of his body is bigger and stronger than my matching sections. That is such a turn on. It’s also a little nerve racking - not scary - just not exactly safe. Ash could use his strength to protect or he could use it against me.

That unknown side of him, the part he keeps hidden, is more th
an a little dangerous. I know this. And it makes my heart beat faster. And interferes with rational thought and self-preservation.

So I might have a previously undiscovered shallow and eensy bit kinky side, so what? It is not every day a witch gets a shot
with a demon lord like this one.

Call me Wicked, but I
’ll take my chances.

Ash reached across the table and pulled my hands in between his. His thumbs began a slow stroke over the first knuckle of my index fingers and the crease at the base of my thumbs.

That is a very sensitive area on a witch.

“
How was your day?” His amber eyes roved over my face as he asked his question.

I thought about the senator, his interview, my mother
’s Spell Book, the senator’s dead body, the attempted framing of myself for his death, the crime scene clean up and the relocation of said body.

“
Good.” I wasn’t in jail. After the day’s events, that was pretty darn good. “How was your day?”

I have no idea what Ash does during the day. I
’ve asked, but he won’t tell me. I know he is hiding something from me and I do try to temper my hormones with that knowledge.

Not very hard, but I do try. Once in a while.

“Good,” he said. I didn’t have to cast a spell to know he lied too.

We
’re the perfect pair.

Candy, the purple haired high schooler
, came over to take our order. Candy works weekends at
Madge’s Place
to earn money. She claims it’s for a law degree. My truth spell says it’s for beauty school.

The streaks of purple were strategically placed and well-done. It suited her appearance and p
ersonality. I just hoped she could convince her parents - the judge and the cop - of the potential in updos and perms. And purple.

The buzz around town is that they are NOT AT ALL happy with the purple.

Seriously though, the beautician industry is a consistent market. When you decide you are going to cut back on things, haircuts are never on the list. The idea of trying to simply
trim
my curls sent shivers up and down my spine.

“
Hi Candy,” I smiled. Ash didn’t let go of my hands. We hadn’t looked at our menus, but we didn’t need to.
Madge’s
menu hasn’t changed since the day she opened, twelve years ago.

“
Have you heard?” Candy bounced from one foot to the other. With the onslaught of texting and Twitter these days, it could be anything from a media event half way around the world to a fight at the local bar.

My stomach started to knot, uncomfortably reminding me I might have inside knowledge on what was behind Candy
’s excited dance.

“
Heard what?” Ash turned to look directly at Candy. She froze. Her lips parted and her breathy gasp floated over to hang in the middle of our table.

Poor thing. She couldn
’t help it. Demon lords have that effect on females. All species.

I
’ve managed to contain most of my gasps whenever I’m with Ash. At least a few of them. In the last day or two.

“
Candy?” I prodded her with my question. Ash still held onto my hands.

She looked at me, moving and blinking slowly as if waking from a nine hour surgery. “
What’s the news?” She needed another prod.

“
Oh.” Her eyes cleared. “The news! You know the big speech tonight in Virtue? The one the senator is giving?”

I nodded and began to mumble the words to my calming spell. Ash
’s hands tightened and I knew I hadn’t cast it quickly enough. I kept my gaze on Candy, refusing to look at him.

He had his secrets and I had mine.

“Well, the senator never showed up! No one knows where he is.”

Sadly, my secrets were about to make the headline news.

****

Ash slammed his door shut and turned fully on the seat to glare at me. “
What’s going on?”

I let
the seatbelt strap slide back into place. He’d hustled me out of
Madge’s
without any concern for my stomach or my cosmopolitan side dish.

Hunger makes me irritable. “
What do you mean?” A freezer couldn’t get colder than my question. As I’ve mentioned, I have no problem with my irritable side.

“
I felt the tension in your hands when Candy mentioned the senator. What scared you?”

It
’s very odd how quickly Ash and I have picked up on each other’s non-verbal communication. In terms of real time, we haven’t known each other very long. In terms of soul time, he has the key to half of my locked doors.

So much for my grumpy side. I
’d have to set her aside for a little two-stepping. “I met the senator today.” I didn’t lie and I didn’t answer his question. Short truths were all I had at the moment.

“
You met the senator?” Ash’s powerful shoulders stiffened. His eyes narrowed, bits of amber heating in their depths.

“
Yes. He came in for an interview.”

Did his chest puff out a little or did he just change positions? Nop
e, he was puffed up.

“
In your office? Alone?”

I kept a wary eye on the red and orange flames springing to life over his shoulders. Ash gets a little heated with the more extreme emotions like passion and fury.

Side note in linguistic history here: “hot under the collar” and “hot and bothered” are both expressions that demons have sparked.

Pun totally intended.

“Yes, in my office and yes, all alone.” I crossed my arms. What was his deal? There was no way he could know about someone trying to frame me for murder. Again.

“
He didn’t have any of his minions with him?” The little flames grew to big flames and began to crawl down his chest and arms. Smoke and musk combined and filled the air between us.

Minions?

Various synapses sprang to life in my brain gathering tidbits of information and connecting them together.

Ah hah.

The demon realm is made up ENTIRELY of hierarchies. The higher up you are, the more power you have. You can then do anything you want and you get your own set of lackeys, or minions.

Ash was relating politics to the various social levels in hell. The only way in that realm to move up is to fight. Demons in power are always considered potential rivals.

While I appreciated the metaphor - and the jealousy - I decided a little clarification might be in order. Before Ash set his truck on fire.

“
I don’t like politics. And I really don’t like politicians.”

Ash scowled. Flames continued on their merry journey down his chest. The campfire scent grew stro
nger.

“
Also, politicians don’t impress me and while they do hold some power they don’t have any power over me.” I laughed a little, hoping to lighten the tension. “I own a matchmaking service, not an oil company. No special favors for me.”

Ash didn
’t smile. There is no glad-handing in hell. They use a more direct approach. Preferably with a large sword.

Ash has a lot of scars. And while I love a good scar, his always made my palm itch for my wand in his defense
.