Standing as close as they were, the blast would kill both of them deader than Elvis.
There were a number of magical ways to disable the bomb, but she didn’t have the time or power for anything fancy.
So go for simple.
Giada reached deep inside herself, seeking that core connection to the alternate universe that was the Mageverse, drawing on the forces there, then sending that alien magical energy down her arm to reshape reality.
But sweet God, it was hard, the magic a feeble trickle instead of the fire-hose stream she was used to. Giada gritted her teeth, sweat breaking out on her forehead, desperation clawing at her mind as she forced the energy to obey.
More.
More
, dammit . . .
And . . . done. Her shoulders sagged in a combination of relief and exhaustion, and she dared open her eyes.
“Giada, what the hell are you doing?” Logan studied her, dark gaze cool and narrow with suspicion.
Oh, heck.
She gave him a deliberately cocky grin, picked the mortar up, and handed it to him. “Sometimes you’ve just got to face your fear.”
He blinked, the suspicion fading. “Yeah, but next time, don’t do that. If we’d been dealing with a different kind of bomb, you’d have blown your head off.”
Giada closed her palm around the tiny glass tube of the mercury switch she’d magically transported out of the bomb. She was going to have to find a safe way to dispose of it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Was Giada Shepherd
a Maja?
The handles of the posthole digger he’d gotten out of the bomb truck felt cool and smooth in Logan’s hands as he drove it into the rich, red clay. Luckily, it had just rained, and the dirt gave easily as he dug. He’d picked a spot well out in the field, two hundred feet away from the white farmhouse, to ensure no windows would be broken by the blast.
As he worked, he was entirely too aware of his pretty partner, who was busy reeling out the wire for the electronic detonation.
What had she been up to in that long pause when she’d first laid hands on the mortar? That expression of intense concentration on her face—if she’d been a Maja, he’d have thought she was casting a spell.
Or maybe she really had been wrestling with a perfectly natural fear of things that blew up.
Logan glanced up at her as she picked her way through the lush meadow with the long-legged grace of a thorough-bred. White wildflowers bobbed around her as she worked with the yellow reel, obviously paying great attention to making sure the wire didn’t kink or break. The setting sun gilded her upswept blond hair and cast highlights over the silky blue shirt that draped her full breasts. Her face had a sort of delicate strength, with wide, high cheekbones, an elegant nose that just missed being too long, and a square, jutting little chin. Her eyes were wide and serious, as gray as storm clouds, with a thick fringe of honey blond lashes.
But it was those full lips that teased his erotic imagination. God, he could think of all kinds of things he’d love to do to that mouth. And have it do to him in return.
He had never seen her at court. He’d have remembered that striking face if he had.
Yet she definitely had that same maddening whatever-it-was that made his body sit up and notice Majae. He knew from personal experience that it was damned hard for a Latent to resist a witch. Especially one bent on seduction.
Take Clea, for instance—which he almost had. If he hadn’t realized she was a Maja before she’d gotten his clothes off, he’d probably have fangs by now. And he just wasn’t ready for that yet.
Thing was, Giada didn’t seem to be playing the same kind of game. When he’d given her The Look when they’d met yesterday—only as a test, mind you—she’d blushed brighter than a cherry tomato as her gaze skittered away in panic. If she hadn’t been twenty-five, he’d have sworn she was a virgin.
Which didn’t sound like somebody Morgana Le Fay would send to relieve him of his mortality. Clea was much more Morgana’s style—all legs and tits and carnivorous sexuality. He’d seen her coming a mile off, even though he’d been seriously tempted.
Dad, now . . . Dad knew him well enough to know exactly what bait would have him jumping. Dad would send a Maja who blushed.
But he’d also sworn to let Logan decide when and where to become a Magus, and he would never break a vow. Dad treated oaths like his heart’s blood—never lightly given.
Of course, that left Mom, who didn’t break oaths either, but was a hell of a lot more ruthless if she thought something was for Logan’s own good.
Trouble was, he couldn’t imagine what would inspire his mother to that kind of ruthlessness.
Terrence ground his
teeth, focusing his binoculars on MacRoy as the chemist worked on disposing of the mortar.
The mortar that had fucking failed to go off.
Maybe there’d been something wrong with the mercury switch. He’d tested it three times before he’d installed it in the bomb, and it had passed all three times. Still, something must have gone wrong.
Thing is, he’d anticipated that possibility and included a fail-safe—the cell phone detonator. He’d called it as he’d watched Logan carry the mortar from the house.
No boom.
Hell, the cell hadn’t even beeped. It was as if something had fried the damn thing.
Furious all over again, Terrence lifted the rifle and drew a bead on MacRoy’s dark head. His finger started to tighten on the trigger . . .
No. No, dammit. The little fucker wasn’t going to beat him into using the easy way. He was just going to have to come up with something more creative.
One way or another, he was going to blow Logan MacRoy right to hell.
Teeth grinding, he lowered the rifle—just as the wristband the client had given him heated up again. He hissed in discomfort at the vicious burn.
What the fuck was that about, anyway? The client had said it would prevent him from being detected, but by what? By whom? MacRoy didn’t seem to have a fucking clue he was being hunted.
And he wouldn’t. Not even when he died.
Standing at what
Logan had said was a safe distance, Giada scanned the woods as he rigged the bursting charge he’d use to blow up the mortar.
She had the distinct feeling they’d just dodged a bullet.
They’d been about to walk outside with the mortar when it hit her that the cell phone was wired to the explosive cone just as the mercury switch had been. She’d barely managed to zap the cell before Logan stepped outside.
What the heck am I dealing with here?
This bomber was obviously no amateur, but he wasn’t using magic either. Yet if he was nothing more than a mortal, a spell should have detected him. But every time she tried to do a scan, it was as if something blocked her.
I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.
The mortar detonated with a thunderous boom and a soaring plume of smoke.
Giada, Logan, Josh, and his mother watched the show from a safe distance at the edge of the field. “Wow!” The little boy’s blue eyes looked huge as he clapped both hands over his ears. “Wow!”
“Yeah,” Giada echoed grimly. “Wow.” If she hadn’t been able to disarm that thing . . .
“All right, Josh, show’s over.” Karen Harper dropped a firm hand on her son’s shoulder and turned him firmly around. “Time to go home and fix dinner.”
“But Mooooommm . . .”
“Dinner sounds good.” Logan gave Giada that easy smile of his as the two moved away, Josh still wheedling fruitlessly. “I know this great Mexican restaurant up the street.”
What the heck—I deserve a celebration.
“Sure.” Giada gave those dark eyes a reckless smile. “Why not?”
TWO
Chico’s was dimly
lit, with sombreros and black velvet paintings of matadors hanging on the walls. It also served the best Mexican in three counties, which was why it was always packed.
The Latino waiter guided Giada and Logan to a dimly lit corner and took their drink orders as they contemplated the menu’s selection of gastric WMDs.
Giada’s margarita turned out to be electric blue and served in a salt-encrusted glass roughly the size of a goldfish bowl. Her eyes began to glaze before she’d finished half of it.
Logan resolved to drive her home. And wondered whether he’d end up pouring her into bed while he was at it. His cock twitched in silent approval of that idea.
Stop that,
he told it.
No seducing the coworker. Especially when she’s drunk.
Which didn’t mean he couldn’t seize the opportunity to pump her ruthlessly for information. Maybe he’d be able to figure out if she was a Maja. Okay, not exactly fair—but if she was lying to him, she didn’t deserve fair.
“So your file says you’ve got a PhD in organic chemistry.” Plucking a tortilla chip from the basket between them, Logan dunked it into the accompanying bowl of salsa, then popped it in his mouth. He paused a moment to let his abused taste buds adjust to the salsa’s nuclear bite. “Quite an accomplishment for a twenty-five-year-old.” Since it took about six years to work your way through the master’s and doctorate programs, most people were at least twenty-seven before they attained a doctorate.
“Actually, I was twenty-three when I got my Piled Higher and Deeper.” Giada dunked a chip in the salsa, bit into it, then hissed and gulped margarita. “Early bloomer,” she managed, when she quit gasping. “I started high school when I was eleven.”
“That is early.” He dipped, munched, and downed a cooling swallow of his Coke. “Was it rough, going to high school that young?”
“Sucked. Everybody else was at least six inches taller. And to make matters worse, I was a fat little kid.” She crunched, sipped, and shuddered before taking another bite. He wasn’t sure whether she was brave or masochistic. “And I’m a freaking genius, which didn’t help.” Blinking slowly, Giada added in a tone of realization, “Shouldn’t have said that last part.” She appeared to worry about it for a moment before shrugging. “Anyway, IQ is just a number. Doesn’t mean a darn thing.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “ ’Cause being smart doesn’t keep you from being stupid. They had me tutor this guy once. Captain of the football team, quarterback. You remind me of him some. Gorgeous. Shoulders to die for. Face like . . . well, something gorgeous.”
Oh, she
was
drunk.
“I was so gone over him.” She sighed in remembrance. “Fat little twelve-year-old, helping studly eighteen-year-old get through calculus. He was so nice to me. Didn’t realize he was treating me like one of his brat little sisters. Even called me Squirt. Did I get a clue?”
Since she seemed to actually expect an answer, he said, “Uh, no?”
“
Heck
no. I finally screwed up my courage and confessed my luuuuv.”
Logan winced in sympathy. “Didn’t go well, did it?”
“He was very kind.” She blinked hard. Logan had the horrifying suspicion the shine in those beautiful eyes was tears. “Very kind.” Heaving a sigh, Giada eyed her drink. Less than a third of it was left. “I need to stop drinking this.”
“Yeah,” he said gently. “You really do.”
She shoved the glass as far across the table as she could reach. Logan took it into protective custody.
“I was fourteen when I went to college,” she continued. He suspected her eyes were not quite in focus. “I’d started growing boobs by then, shooting up and slimming down, but all that made me was jailbait.”
“I gather you didn’t get asked out a lot.”
Giada snorted. “Not by anyone who wasn’t creepy.”
Out of sheer curiosity, he asked, “I trust I’m not creepy.”
“Nope, but then, I’m not jailbait anymore.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “No, you’re definitely not jailbait.”
He didn’t think she was a Maja either. She was just too damned artless. He wasn’t even sure she knew how beautiful she was. Somehow he got the impression that in the back of her mind, she was still that fat little girl who was too smart for her own good.
He wondered what quirk of his personality found that so appealing.
“Wait a minute,”
Logan told Giada as they pulled up in front of the six-story cream building that was the Daniel Morgan Inn. “If you try to hop out of the truck right now, you’ll fall on your head.”
He swung out of the bomb truck cab and jumped down, then strode around to open Giada’s door. There was no way she could manage the metal steps down from the truck’s high seat, not with all the tequila she had on board.
Giada blinked owlishly at him, then placed her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to swing her down.
She swayed against him on her long legs, and he braced her there. Her breasts felt delightfully full and soft against his chest. The scent of her hair seemed to arrow straight to his groin. Logan swallowed, looking down into her wide gray eyes. Her lips parted, full and naked of lipstick. The temptation to kiss her rolled over him like a wave.
“You feel really good,” she murmured.
He swallowed with an effort and managed, “And you are
really
drunk.” Somehow he found the self-control to take a step back from that lovely, delightfully female body.
“How am I going to get to work?” A worried frown line formed between her delicate blond brows. “My car is back at the sheriff’s office. Isn’t it?”
He sighed. “I’ll give you a ride in the morning. What floor are you on?”
“Third. 304.” She fumbled the long strap of her purse onto her shoulder, then moved off across the parking lot for the front door of the hotel, swaying dangerously on her short heels. Logan caught up to her and took her arm, steadying her. Breathing deep of her seductive scent.
Do not seduce the coworker.