Black Wings, Gray Skies (Black Hat Bureau 4)

That fear lived in me every day when it came to the girls, but they had me, and now they had Aedan too. The director himself couldn’t touch a hair on their heads without bringing my wrath down upon his.

After checking my phone for the millionth time, I forced my thoughts away from home. “Where’s Clay?”

Asa jerked his chin behind me, and I twisted around to find Clay bristling with armloads of bags.

Dressed in his Black Hat finest, he cut a trim figure. The formal suit made the purple beehive hairstyle he rocked that much more ridiculous. No. I take that back. What pushed it over the top was the glittery grape eyeshadow. He drew wide-eyed stares and more than a few smiles, but no one dared to laugh outright.

When you were seven feet tall and four hundred pounds, no one questioned your fashion choices.

Except me.

“Tell me who did this to you.” I pounded a fist over my heart. “I solemnly vow to exact vengeance.”

“It was me,” Colby chimed from within the wig. “Isn’t he pretty?”

“In that case,” I backpedaled so fast I was in danger of falling into the ocean, “he’s never looked better.”

Lash extensions fluttering, Clay laughed at me with his eyes, happy to sparkle if it gave Colby joy.

For a guy without organs, he had the biggest heart of any person I had ever met.

“You visited the city market.” Asa eyed the paper bags. “I thought you were scouting for a new hotel.”

The one we hit last night crawled with agents like ants on a mound, which made me twitchy.

Our trio didn’t blend in with the other teams. Part of it was fear of my reputation. Part of it was curiosity over my disappearance. And part of it, I suspected, was the peculiar magic thrumming through me these days, drawing unwanted attention to my power signature as the familiar bond bound Colby and me tighter to one another.

Sooner or later, they would figure out I no longer practiced black magic.

Until then, the fewer Black Hats who knew about Colby, the better.

“We had more important business to attend.” Clay breezed past us. “The business of breakfast.”

The smells hit me a heartbeat later, and my stomach rumbled when it identified the sources.

“Biscuits?” I pushed off the railing. “Cajun boiled peanuts?”

“Also teeny-tiny sweet potato donuts dusted with sugar, coffee for Ace, and Arnold Palmers for us.”

“That sounds amazing,” I confessed, “but the hotel—”

“The guy at the hotel gave me a coupon for Bridge’s Biscuits when I turned in our keycards. He wanted us to get fifteen percent off an amazing breakfast to start our day off right. Who am I to deny his final wishes?”

“That makes it sound like he bequeathed you the coupon on his deathbed…”

“Shh.” Clay pressed the black coffee into my hand. “Just eat, drink, and be grateful.”

The sip of scalding hot coffee puckered my lips with its bitterness, but Asa watched with rapt attention that made it hard for me to swallow. I slid my eyes to his, our gazes locked, and heat swept through me.

“Enough of that.” Clay plucked the cup from my hand and passed it to Asa. “Here’s your tea, Dollface.”

“Sweet tea?” I cracked the lid and sniffed. “Heavy on the lemon.”

“That’s an Arnold Palmer for you.” He doled out a paper straw. “Half tea, half lemonade.”

“Ah.” I offered it to Asa, who tasted it with a considering hum, before I drank. “I like it.”

“Next time, you go first.” Clay scoffed at my easy approval. “Then give me your unbiased opinion.”