Charmed & Ready (4 page)

I found out the guys had planned to go to some gallery opening, which I'm sure would be covered by the press. The last thing I needed to do was show up with Azir on one arm and Zane on the other. It would have probably killed poor Sam.

I called him around ten to tell him good night. Even though it was only nine there in Sweet, he sounded like I woke him up.

"Bron?" He whispered.

"Yes, did I wake you?"

"Hmmm. I must have dozed off in front of the television again. I was watching
Alias
and the next thing I knew the phone rang."

Can I tell you how much I love this guy? He loves the show just as much as I do, but I have a feeling it's more for her sexy outfits and push-up bras than her ability to slay bad guys with a single kick.

"I didn't expect to hear from you again tonight."

"Well, I was sitting here missing you and I thought I'd just ring and say good night." I smiled. I did miss him so much. He has a way of brushing my hair off my forehead or holding my hand and rubbing his thumb across my knuckles, that makes me feel treasured. It sounds corny, but I love him so damn much.

"I miss you too, baby. I know you hate when I ask, but any idea when you might be coming home?" He yawned.

"Don't be silly. I don't hate when you ask that, but I don't have an answer. I hope we'll be done by the weekend. You know I'm going to jump your bones as soon as I hop out of that jet."

He laughed. "Good. I could do with a bit of bone jumping. Oh, I checked on Casper. Her pet door keeps getting stuck, so I left her in the house for tonight. Is that okay?"

The last few months my protector of a cat and supposed witch's familiar had been noticeably absent. When I lived in Manhattan, London and Paris, she never left my apartment or my side when we were home. Guess she feels like we are safer in Texas.

"She'll be fine. Her boyfriends in the neighborhood might not be happy, but they'll get over it."

That made him laugh.

"Well, I'll let you get some rest. I love you, Sam. Sleep well."

"I love you too. Don't go looking for trouble," he warned, but his tone was playful.

Now that made me laugh, because trouble almost always finds me.

1 A.M.

Someone just knocked on the door, but by the time I got to it no one was there. Weird.

I put a new ward on the door to keep the unwanted out. Now back to those sexy, sexy dreams involving Sam and a bottle of Hershey's syrup. I love making a sundae out of that man.

Saturday, 10 A. M.

La Guardia tarmac

Spells: 5

Tired, traveling witches: 1

Dead guys: I (Dammit. Should have killed them all.)
Last night is a bit of a blur.

We ended the meetings on Friday, and from what I could tell everything was copasetic. Everyone cooperated, there were even policy changes enforced and each country promised to donate large amounts of food and funds. All in all, very productive. And I hadn't heard any more weird messages about someone wanting to kill people.

So last night, Zane had everybody who stayed in town to a club for a private concert. My God, that man is hot. I mean it. I swear, even some of the straight guys were drooling.

Anyway, he sang a couple of tunes and then let the house band keep the party going. There was great food and drinks flowed freely. Fun, fun, after a tough week.

I planned to head home, but the prime minister asked me to stay on at least one more day. He had something important he wanted to talk to me about.

After the debacle with Zane the other night, I wasn't sure I should go. But Zane begged and I'm a wuss, so there I sat.

He wore a yellow velvet suit with no shirt underneath. He should have looked like a chicken, but it was so tight and sexy. I don't know many men who could get away with that sort of thing.

I'd forgotten how mesmerizing his voice could be, especially in a live performance. After he finished singing, he came to the table where the prime minister and I sat.

"Well, luv, having a good time?"

I raised my glass to him. Diet Coke and bourbon, the best thing ever for tight shoulders and a tough week. That's not true, sex is the best thing. Bourbon is a close second. "I am, thank you. I like your suit."

He laughed. "What, this old thing?"

I rolled my eyes, and wondered what his zillion-dollar designer would say about that.

"Bronwyn, Zane has something he'd like to discuss with you." The prime minister came to the club in casual attire. Well, casual for him. A black pinstripe Armani, with a blue shirt. But he didn't have a tie on. I tried to think back and remember if I'd ever seen him without a tie in public. Nope. I'd seen him without a shirt once after he'd been poisoned and I had to heal him, but we were in the privacy of his hotel room at the time. He kind of reminds me of Hugh Grant, but so much more stuffy.

I turned my attention to the rock star. And in that moment the confidence fell from his face.

"What is it?" I urged.

Zane stared at his kicky little boots for a full minute. "I think someone is trying to kill me."

"Oh. Okay. Any ideas about the culprits?" I couldn't keep my eyebrow from going up. If he and the prime minister were playing games, this wasn't a fun one.

"Not beyond the usual suspects." He took a deep breath and shook the tension from his body. "In my business, stalkers are common and every drunk wanker thinks he can sing better. But this… Well, seems a bit more intense."

"In what way?" I shifted in my seat. My senses were on alert, scanning the club as he spoke. This was serious. I wish these idiots would tell me right away when someone is trying to kill them. At least as a common courtesy in case I got caught in the crossfire.

"There was a bomb found under his limousine last night," the prime minister spoke up. I'd been traveling with Zane just a few days before, and this was not welcome news.

"I swear I would have said something before," Zane twisted to look behind him, "but I had no idea that it was this serious."

"Maybe you should go back to the beginning," I interjected.

"Well, about a month ago there was a man with a gun outside my house in London. One of my security guards noticed him hanging out on the corner and called the cops. He told them that he'd only been waiting for a friend. Other than the fact that he had a gun, the police had no reason to hold him. Two days later the security guard was found dead in his flat. Strangled."

His frown deepened. "The police didn't think the two incidents were related, but I'm not so sure.

"Then last night." He shook his head. "Before we headed back to the hotel, Azir's people did a sweep of the car. That's when they found the bomb."

We weren't speaking, but since he is under my protection it might have been nice if the sheik could have mentioned this.

"But if it was on a car you shared, then it could have been for you or Azir." I held up a hand. "Of course, that isn't good news either way. But you don't know it was for you."

"No, you don't understand. My assistant, Georgette, had hired the car. It was under her name. Azir had come to the dinner in a separate car. It was only at the last minute that we decided to share mine."

"Okay, so are those the only two incidents?" I drummed my fingers on my leg.

"I've been thinking back today. There's been some odd people at the benefits we've been doing. They wear cloaks and weird contacts—their eyes sort of glow. I thought they must be some kind of cult that just wants to rock on, but I'm not so sure now. The security officers mentioned in the report that a weird chant was coming from the group."

I knew about weird cults, but this sounded more like warlocks to me. I've spent way too much time in bad warlocks' company. Chanting is something they love to do. It's how they bring forth the evil that follows.

I should probably say that there are thousands of do-gooding warlocks who would never hurt a fly. Sam is one of them. But most of the ones I
come
into
contact
with are assholes.

"Has anything strange happened at the concerts?"

"We've had a lot of people get sick. At first everyone believed it was food poisoning, but that was never proven. A couple of people had to be taken to the hospital."

The band interrupted with a loud guitar solo and Zane paused in his story. We all clapped for the guy when he finished and then Zane continued.

"And to be honest all of a sudden I have stage fright. I've never experienced anything like it before. But now it's almost debilitating. The prime minister seems to think I may have been cursed. I've been working through it, but every time I perform it gets tougher." He rubbed his hand over his tight stomach.

I did a quick aura check but didn't see anything dark and gloomy hanging over him. There were no holes, but his aura was a strange color—amber with brown dots. The dots might have something to do with his stage fright.

"When we get back to the hotel, I have some stuff in my bag that may help." I patted his arm in a comforting way. Onstage he had seemed so confident and rock god-ish that it was hard to believe he was frightened of anything.

"What kind of stuff? Like witch's brew?" He smiled.

I laughed. "Exactly like that, but a bit more tasty than you might imagine. Do you think perhaps this cult or whatever may be at the source of your troubles the last month?"

"I honestly don't know, but it's the only logical explanation. Like I said before, these aren't your garden variety stalkers, I have a feeling things are going to get a lot worse before they get better."

I had to agree. If he had a gang of warlocks against him, it only meant big trouble. I'd sensed a kind of power in Zane when I first met him. I wondered if perhaps the warlocks wanted some part, if not all, of that power.

"What exactly was it that you wanted to ask me?"

Zane hesitated and then looked at the prime minister as he spoke. "We were wondering if you'd come back to London with us to see if you could help."

I gave the PM an evil look. He knew I needed to return home to Sam. I was worried about being gone for this long. I know he's so much better than he was a few months ago, but until he is one hundred percent, well…

"Bronwyn, I know you have commitments." The PM spoke with authority. "But I'm asking as a client and as a friend for you to help Zane."

He knew I wouldn't say no. The mention of us being friends had been kind of a low blow. I'm loyal. It's one of my best—and worst—character traits. I've put myself in harm's way more than once, out of loyalty to a friend.

Sam would have to go it alone a few more days. Maybe I could get Kira and Caleb to check on him.

"I'll come to England with you, but I can't stay for long. We'll try to get at the source as quickly as possible and deal with this."

I held up a hand again. "With one condition. You have to do exactly what I tell you. If we're dealing with what I think we are, this is more dangerous than either of you could imagine. These people do mean harm. They aren't just some crazy cult."

Zane shrugged. "No problem. I'll do whatever you ask. Consider me under your spell." He wiggled an eyebrow.

Please, but he was funny. Any guy who can find humor in a situation this dire gets a plus-one in my book.

When we were leaving the club I discovered he hadn't exaggerated at all.

The limo pulled up, and five characters in cloaks jumped from the shadows. I could feel the magic roll off of a few of them. The others were just there for the fun of it. They surrounded the car. I could see why Zane had been frightened.

With the black cloaks covering them, all that showed were their orange glowing eyes.

"She's a witch!" The largest of the warlocks yelled. As he did so, he threw a small fireball at me. I didn't have time to roll my eyes, but I so wanted to.

I don't understand why warlocks are so fucking stupid. They always underestimate the power of their opponents. Especially if said opponent is a woman.

I caught the fireball in my hand. See, that's my power. I'm good with fire and blowing things up. Since I couldn't see the warlock's expression, I had no idea what he thought about my trick. But the two men who didn't have magic made a run for it. Smart humans.

The other three stood together in front of the car and began a chant. Some Latin crap about binding my powers. I tossed the fireball at them and then flicked a small burn to their shoes, or at least where I thought their feet might be. With all of that fabric, who could tell?

The two on the outside did a tippy-toe dance and yelled, "Hot, hot, hot." If I hadn't been so pissed it would have been kind of funny.

The one in the middle didn't move. He either could control the burn, or he was more powerful than I'd suspected. I doubted the second
one
. He might be more talented but he was definitely not much in the way of power.

Then he spoke. "He is ours, witch. He's been given to us by our master. You cannot protect him."

His voice sounded familiar. Eerily so, but I couldn't place it. A shiver ran down my back, and I shook it off. I put my hands on my hips. "Look, I'm trying to be nice and not kill you, but if you want to live you have to tell me what I want to know. Then turn yourself over to the spook squad."