The Last Witch Hunter (Witch Hunters) (2 page)

He returned to his breakfast. When he finished, he put his dishes in the dishwasher.  He went into his double garage. His Ford
F-250 was covered on one side. The other side was lined with shelves holding his tools. He’d been working on making a rocking chair for his Uncle Hugh for a couple of months. It was a surprise for his birthday. Ronan ran his hand over the wood. It was simple but sturdy. Hugh would love it.

***

Nikita rubbed her forehead. She could feel a headache building. Dr. Scott was right. She needed a vacation. Damn it, she missed coffee. For a moment, she debated having a small cup. It was past noon. Giving it up hadn’t helped. She still wasn’t sleeping.

She jumped as Mrs. Williams’
s cat, a fluffy tabby named Minx, rubbed against her leg. Nikita swore. She hated this. Bending, she ran a trembling hand over Minx’s soft head. The cat didn’t like to travel so she had promised Mrs. Williams that she would take care of her. Minx’s bowl was empty again. She filled it with cat food, hoping she wasn’t over feeding the feline.

She turned on the television. This was beginning to feel like a waste of time. She’d observed nothing unusual about Ronan McKinley.
Well, aside from being the sexiest redhead she’d ever seen. Mrs. Williams had claimed that he was a nuisance. Nikita would give her that but she doubted that he was bedeviling Mrs. Williams the way he was her.  She’d observed him working in his yard, clipping hedges and mowing the lawn. He’d even mowed Mrs. Williams’s lawn. She can’t imagine why the elderly woman suspected he was an evil witch.

Nikita flipped from the news. It was too depressing. She stopped at a game show but had to turn.
Too damn much joy.
She wandered over to the window and peered out onto the quiet street. She wondered, not for the first time, if this was some sort of set up. Mama Skye had been urging her to give up the business of late. Nikita knew her grandmother was concerned for her but this was the only job she knew how to do. And she was the only one left in the family to do it.

Sure, she was barely
sleeping at night. And, yes, she was…anxious, tensing at shadows and even the odd movement in her peripheral vision.

But there were benefits to her insomnia. It extended her work hours.

And the jitters made sure that her reflexes were sharp.

A vacation was all she needed. She’d take one as soon as this case was over. She turned her gaze to the two story brick home next door. This would be much eas
ier if she were a witch like her cousin. Mystique could spot a fellow witch simply by the look of their eyes. But for Nikita, it required surveillance. If Ronan was a witch, he was careful about displaying any extraordinary talents.

Nikita rotated her shoulders and massaged her aching neck. Whether he was a witch or not didn’t mean that her services were required here. She would then have to determine whether he was good or evil. If he was good, then she did nothing. If he were evil…well, that’s when the situation got tricky.

She was almost ready to pack up and go back to Asheville. Ronan didn’t impress her as wicked. The man’s only interest for days had been attempting to finagle an invite into this house. With her. Yet he’d made no efforts to bewitch her or coerce her into doing his bidding.

Their date tomorrow night would shed some light on the situation.

After a simple dinner of soup and a salad, she tried television again but found herself too antsy to sit still for it. She stretched and did a quick workout before deciding to turn in for the night.

She brushed her teeth and studied her face in the mirror.
Her cinnamon skin was makeup free. Large dark eyes tilted up at the corners and gave her an exotic flair. Her long black hair was braided and resting on her shoulders. “Not bad,” she murmured to herself, but it didn’t explain why Ronan was sniffing around her skirts. Even to her own biased view, she looked tired and rung out. Without concealer to hide the shadows beneath her eyes she felt she appeared ten years older than her actual age of twenty-eight.

With a disgusted grunt, she washed her face and exited the bathroom. The guest room at Mrs. Williams’s house hadn’t seen a remodel since she purchased the house.
Original wood floors creaked a little as she made her way to the large four-poster bed. The bedclothes were worn and faded. But they were clean and she could not complain. She’d stayed in much worse in the course of this job.

She removed her clothes and dropped them in the rocking chair next to the bed. Nude
but for panties, she slipped in between the cool sheets.

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. Minutes later she found her eyes were wide open again and her mind was filled with memories of past missions. The last witch she had investigated had been
a nasty one. He’d liked to steal the youth of children to keep himself young. Capturing him had not been easy and it had not come without risk to her life. In the end, there was no choice but to end him. There was no evidence, no proof to give to police to arrest him for the missing children. There was only the justice to be found at the end of her blade.

Nikita purposely blocked the memories of the blood.

The room was dark except for the moonlight which filtered through the blind
s at the windows. It was enough to create malevolent, elongated shadows that crept across the ceiling and floor.

Exhaling, she closed her eyes
to ignore the vision.

The creaking of the door was the only warning she received before the impact hit the bed. She sprang up, the dagger hidden beneath her pillow in her hand in one fluid movement. Cool me
tal warmed in her hand as she stared into the luminescent eyes of Minx. The cat blinked and then settled against her thigh as it had done every night since she’d come to stay. Nikita glared at the cat before settling down. She returned the dagger to its position. Weren’t cats supposed to be aloof? This one wasn’t. It was downright affectionate.

She was tired but sleep
remained elusive. The witch had been known as Charles Hayes. He was seventy, but appeared only thirty due to this witchcraft. His hair had been gold and his eyes were blue. He had been boyishly handsome. His outward angelic appearance had hidden a dark and evil soul.

Getting close to Charles had been easy. He’d found her attractive and flirted with her thus allowing her to observe him. It hadn’t taken long to discover his nefarious deeds. Charles was cocky and not particularly good at hiding his tracks.

Nikita had caught him in the act and had rescued a small boy from Charles’s insatiable need for youth.
When she’d confronted him, he hadn’t been concerned, bragging that no one would ever believe her. Of that, she was certain. But she’d never planned to reveal his existence.

He’d captured her
and tied her to a post in the basement of the house he rented. She had appealed to his vanity and pretended that before she went she wanted to know what it was like to be loved by a witch. She endured his kisses and fumbling caresses. She was often underestimated because of her size. So when she’d suggested he release her so she could use her hands, he hadn’t even hesitated before cutting the rope that bound her.

And she hadn’t hesitated in removing the blade she kept sheathed in her boot.

She was jarred awake, the memory of Charles’s bright blue eyes widening in realization at the forefront of her mind.

A glance at the clock revealed that she had slept three hours. Minx stood and stretched. Great, Nikita thought, she was keeping the same hours as the cat.

Minx bounded off the bed and out of the room.

Nikita lay still. Twenty minutes passed and she felt no closer to sleeping. She got out of bed and crossed to the windows.
She lifted one of the blind slats to peer out. The house next door was dark signifying that Ronan had no difficulty sleeping. A gentle breeze made the limbs of the trees sway. Streetlights lit the sidewalks. She saw a cat that resembled a fluffier version of Minx dart through the circle of light and cross the street.

Chapter Two

Ronan’s mouth dropped open. He was a few minutes early for his date with Nikita and he’d fully expected to have to wait for her. In his experience with the fairer sex, they were never ready on time. Nikita whipping the door open as he climbed the porch steps had surprised him a little. But it was her appearance that had him stunned speechless.

Dressed from
head to toe in black, she looked far different from the cute imp he was used to seeing. Gone were the loose t-shirts and baggy shorts. Tonight she wore skin tight jeans that encased her legs like a second skin. Her sleeveless blouse had a frilly collar and was transparent at the top. The fit was snug, hugging a generous bosom. A deep V in the blouse revealed the caramel curves of her breasts, making his palms sweat and his mouth water.

Ronan forced his gaze up to her face. She’d
released her customary ponytail and her hair floated about her shoulders in a wild riot of curls. Thick eyeliner emphasized the catlike shape of her eyes and gave them a dramatic flair. Her ears sported five earrings a piece, three in each lobe and two at the uppermost tips. She’d put on a shiny plum lip gloss that made her full juicy lips appear wet.

Still mute, Ronan held out the bouquet of pink roses he’d purchased for her. Se
eing her like this, he knew the flowers were inappropriate. Conventional gifts would not impress the woman standing before him.

She accepted them with a small smile. As her fingers closed around the group of stems, he noticed her black nail polish. It was an interesting combination of shiny and matte finishes. “Thank you.” She paused. “I’ll put these in water and I’ll be right back.”

He stepped forward, expecting to be invited indoors, but she closed the door in his face with a snap. When she returned, Mrs. Williams’s cat shot out of the house, almost tripping her. Ronan caught her about her upper arms, his hand covering a claw shaped arm bracelet.

“I hate cats,” she said
, her tone vehement. He laughed. He’d seen her sitting on the porch many an evening with Minx in her lap, her hand stroking the cat’s orange fur.

“You look lovely,” he finally managed. This close he could smell her sweet jasmine scent. His cock bucked in his pants. It was going to be a long evening if he couldn’t control himself. He cleared his throat. “I’d planned to grill steaks
at my place, but seeing you, maybe we should go out.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Your place?
” She inspected him, her large dark eyes travelling over every inch of him before returning to his face. Studying him in silence, she finally nodded. “That will be fine as long as you understand. You keep your hands to yourself and I’ll keep mine to myself.”

Ronan had the distinct impression that he was being threatened. It was funny really since her head
barely reached his shoulders despite the fact that she was wearing a pair of wickedly high heels. But he nodded his acquiescence. He would never hurt a woman. His mother had taught him to love and respect women. His father had taught him to cherish and protect them. “Gotcha. Don’t worry,” he added with a wink, “I don’t put out on a first date.” The corners of her succulent lips softened but she didn’t smile.

Appreciating
the gentle sway of her hips, Ronan let Nikita lead the way across the yard to his house. He’d left the door unlocked. He swung it open and invited her inside. Her gaze swept over her surroundings. He felt sure that she missed nothing. His decorating style was simple. A leather couch faced the wall. In front of it sat a wood coffee table that he’d made while in high school. Beyond that, his pride and joy, his mammoth flat screen television was mounted in the perfect viewing position. He didn’t do adornment. There were no pillows or knick knacks. An empty planter sat in the corner, the ficus his mother had given him as a housewarming present having long given up the ghost.

He led the way through the kitchen. “Would you like a drink? I have beer, wine, and soda.”

“I’ll just have water.”

He took a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with ice and water for her. “You don’t drink?”
Her response was a noncommittal shrug as she accepted the cool glass. He arched a brow but she was mum. Opening the fridge, he removed the plastic container containing the steaks he’d seasoned earlier. He’d prepared the grill before going over to pick her up. Snagging a can of beer in his other hand, he kicked the refrigerator door closed.

Nikita followed him from the kitchen onto the back deck. He’d left cooking utensils beside the grill. The steaks made a satisfactory hissing sound as he used tongs to put them on the grill. He added potatoes wrapped in foil and closed the lid. “Have a seat.”

She glanced at the deck chairs and chose the glider. He grinned and then sat beside her. Popping open his can a beer, he took a sip. “Not much of a talker, are you?” In his experience women liked to talk unless they were shy. Nikita didn’t impress him as an introvert. In fact her attire screamed the opposite.

“I like listening.” She smiled. “You learn more that way.”

“I’d like to learn more about you. You know I’m a carpenter. What do you do for a living?”

“I work in the family bakery.”