Big, Bad Red (Fairy True 2)

Every nerve in Liam’s body was tuned in to Red’s frequency as she strutted across the pub’s dimly lit interior with the hulking, flannel-wearing errand boy hot on her heels. Their gazes locked and heat blazed between them, as palpable as the electricity in the air before a summer thunderstorm. Her step faltered—not enough that she stumbled, but enough that it knocked of the timing of her mesmerizing, hip-swaying stride, and she scowled at him all the more. She was fighting the spell, but it was getting to her. He was getting to her.

He stood up beside the booth. “Missed me?”

Her gray eyes flashed fire. He just loved seeing her spark.

“You’ve got something in your hair.” Red pulled herself up to her tiptoes and ran her hands through his hair. One of

her rings snagged a few stands and pulled them out. “There, got it.”

“Ow!” He rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head. “What was that for?”

“Toughen up, you’ll live.” She took Derry’s hand as he helped her sit down and she slid across the booth until she was next to the window. Patting the open space next to her, she winked at him. “Why don’t you sit down? We need to talk.”

Liam motioned to Derry as he joined her in the booth. “You need muscle for us to chat?”

“Don’t worry.” Her fingers curled around his chin, turning him so he faced her. “He’ll be gone in a second.”

Something was off. It was in the tightness around Red’s luscious mouth and the quick nod she gave Derry. The wolf inside him perked up and started to prowl. Danger scented the air. Then Red slid her long, red-tipped fingers up the inseam of his leather pants and desire overpowered all of Liam’s better judgment. He shifted in his seat, trying to unobtrusively adjust his leather pants while wishing the material had more give.

Her breath hitched and her luscious lips parted. She was up to something, he didn’t doubt it, but she was just as affected by their proximity as he was.

A flurry of movement in his peripheral vision yanked his attention away from her.

Derry grabbed the Caladbolg sword and then pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket before mumbling a singsong phrase under his breath.

A gust of wind swept through the pub, setting Liam’s hair on end. Muscles primed for action, he leapt from his seat—only to run smack into a clear force field as solid as bullet-proof glass, surrounding the large circular booth like a bubble. Red scrambled across the table but ran into the same barrier on the other side. They were trapped like bugs in a glass jar.

“What the hell?” He smacked his palm against the invisible wall, to no avail.

The lumbering asshole pulled the sword case tighter to his chest and stepped away from them, gulping as if he was worried they’d break out.

“The Fairy Godmother helped me to see that this sword is my way into the King’s organization—a tribute. I’ll give it to him to get in on the ground floor of his organization.” His cheeks flamed. “Sorry, Red, it’s not personal, it’s just business. If anyone would understand, I figured it was you.”

“You figured wrong, you double-crossing donkey’s uncle.” Red poured enough venom into each word to make Derry take a nervous step back.

He gaped at them for a minute before spinning around and running out the back door like the devil was on his heels.

Fury burned a hole in Liam’s gut. “Doesn’t he realize now we’ll both be after him?”

“No one ever said Derry was the sharpest ax in the shed,” Red said.

“The same could be said for you.” He leaned in close, the wolf inside him hungry for a fight. “Because I’m the last person you should have ever double-crossed.”

Chapter Five

Liam rubbed his aching shoulder and ignored the woman chuckling softly beside him. For the past twenty-three minutes, Red had seethed in the booth, munching on their dwindling supply of peanuts and watching with a little more snarky joy each time Liam had tried and failed to break the magical force field. He’d thrown every destruction spell he could remember at it—not to mention his own shoulder repeatedly—and the damn thing remained solid.

Sitting back against the oversized, high-backed seat, he swiped the last remaining peanuts out of the bowl and crunched them to smithereens between his teeth. He glanced over to Red, who sat with her long legs curled up underneath her while she smirked at him.

“You think this is funny?” He put enough growl in his voice to make a goblin take a step back but she didn’t even flinch.

She toyed with the ruby-red cocktail ring on her pointer finger. “It’s a laugh-or-cry situation and I’m not the kind of girl to get all sniffly.”

No she wasn’t. She was the type of girl who drove sober men to drink. Smart. Sexy. Devious as the day was long. “But you are the type to screw over a guy without a second thought.”

She flicked a stray peanut shell at him. “This coming from the man who I caught trying to steal the Caladbolg sword from me.”

“That’s different.” It was his family heirloom and was the only thing that would keep him from going perma-furry.