Worse, I couldn’t really remember the details of my conversation with Jaxson. Had I really told him that I was attacked by werewolves? Or wait, had he said that?
Either way, it was bad news. One of us was off our rocker.
Had he really claimed that magic was real and that werewolves were after me? The logical half of my brain took control. Impossible. I’d had too much to drink and mixed a lot of things up. That sucked, because I was going to have to start weaseling information out of him all over again, and I really didn’t want to be near him.
Lie.
What the hell was I going to do?
Take a freaking shower, that’s what. Because I was gross.
As soon as I’d gotten into my room last night, I’d stripped off my sundress and face-planted into the bed. Normally, I’d shower before crawling between the sheets, but the day had just knocked me out cold.
I staggered out of bed and retrieved my crumpled dress from the back of the chair. It smelled faintly of sweat, car exhaust, and burning coolant. Man, I’d been some date—underdressed and over-fragrant.
I sighed. Not that it’d been a date. More like information gathering.
I peeled off my threadbare undies and slipped into the shower, letting the warm water relax my mind and muscles.
To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded if it had been a date, even if it had ended weirdly. The place was amazing, and Jaxson was unbelievably hot—burn-your-fingers-if-you-got-too-close hot. He’d been studying me all night, though he’d tried to hide it.
Unfortunately, Jaxson wasn’t interested, especially not after he’d learned who my relations were. The look on his face on the bridge and in the restaurant had made my skin crawl. Pure hatred. He’d said they were into weapons trafficking.
And dark magic.
What did that even mean? I couldn’t be remembering things correctly.
It was possible that they were the reason I’d been targeted. I needed to find out more about them, to figure out why. Obviously, I’d need to be careful.
It didn’t help that I was stranded. I didn’t even want to think how much it would cost to repair the Gran Fury. Thousands, for sure, which was more than I had and probably more than the old car was worth. If my family turned out to be sociopaths, I could probably sell it for a bus ticket out of here, but otherwise, I couldn’t leave it behind. That meant I needed a job and a place to stay.
Panic crept in, and I decided to focus on the short term as I rinsed the soap off, along with any remaining illusions I’d created about Jaxson Laurent. He was a means to an end, a way to get the information I needed. That was all.
I recalled that I’d agreed to meet with a sketch artist, and that Jaxson was going to send a car at noon. That was something, at least, even if the rest was a blur.
I got out, dried off, and wrapped the towel around me. Feeling a bit guilty, I texted Alma: I’m ok. Spent the night at a motel. Had a little car trouble, but I’m getting it fixed. On my way soon. Love you. I’ll call you when I get to my destination.
I didn’t like stretching the truth with her, but it was a lot easier by text.
The return text had probably taken her four minutes to type on her old brick phone: Love you, too. Don’t worry, no sign of feds.
That was because they’d already found me, and I was going to meet with one in under two hours. At least it would be a good chance to talk things over, because there was no way that anything I remembered about last night could be real.
I had no idea what to wear. What casually said, I’m hot and want answers, but I won’t be pushed around? Not like I needed or cared to look hot for Jaxson. I was pretty sure that he
all but despised me, and I wasn’t the kind of girl who tried to impress guys. Normally.
Biting my lip, I selected some gray jeans that made my butt look great and an airy button-down short-sleeved blouse. I examined myself in the mirror and popped a few buttons to nice effect. It was summer, after all.
I opened the door to my room and stepped out onto the concrete walkway. A cleaning lady moved her cart out of my way, and her broom scooted along after. Then it began sweeping off the walk.
All by itself.
I stepped back into my room, shut the door, and leaned against the wall.
Savy, you’re not in Kansas anymore.
I cracked the door and peeked out, making sure not to look at the possessed broom. The lady was cleaning the adjacent room, and I slunk around the corner to spy through the open door. She pointed a stick—a wand—at the bed. The sheets flew off, and a new set zipped off her cart and onto the mattress, followed by a pair of towels that folded into a swan.