Gray Witch (Black Hat Bureau 5)

“You heard?” I checked with Asa, who nodded. “We need to interrogate that guest.”

“Are you okay?” He caught my arm. “What that note implies…”

That I might see Mom again. That she might kill someone. That I might have just ripped out Dad’s heart.

As hard as it would be for me to see her, she was more of an idea to me than a person. To Dad? She was a razor-sharp memory that hadn’t faded after all this time. He could barely speak her name without his voice going tight or agony leaking into his eyes.

“I can’t think about it.” I broke free of him. “It’s too much.” I gathered my nerve. “We’re focusing on our best lead to solve the case as a whole, which is Old Man Fang.”

The big problem with fascination was how high it cranked my emotions. I was getting better at figuring out what to do with my feelings, but I wasn’t a pro. Far from it. The cocktail of feeling swishing around in my gut made me nauseous, and I couldn’t afford to feed that gnawing anxiety.

“All right.” Asa let it drop, and I heard the impact. “We’ll focus on Old Man Fang.”

We didn’t speak on the ride to the motel, and I kept rubbing my thumb over the note until I quit before I worried a hole through it.

Focus.

Angling my body toward my window, I let the blurred scenery fill my vision and my head with streaks of color. It felt like blocking out Asa, which wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t control the instinct to withdraw. Still, I reached back for his hand, and he laced our fingers.

It was enough.

I couldn’t offer him what he deserved by any metric, and I was grateful he accepted so little from me.

“I love you,” I blurted then locked my jaw and glared at my reflection.

“I know.”

That should have been it, but this time it wasn’t enough. Fascination pecked and picked until I caved to its whims and regurgitated feelings all over us both. “I’m mad at the situation, not you.”

“I know.”

“Do black witches have nothing better to do with their time than target the fuck out of me?”

The harsh language caused his fingers to twitch in shock, but the old me had learned the art of swearing at Clay’s knee. It could only get worse from here if I didn’t rein in the habit before it broke free.

“Fuck,” I exhaled, reeling in that breach. “I miss that word.”

“You can whisper it in my ear whenever you feel the urge.”

A surprised laugh spluttered out of me, and once again, it was enough. The tension in me broke open, and I could stand to meet my reflection without wanting to punch her in the face for the crime of allowing my black heart to bleed for a woman I barely remembered and the man who would break the world to have her returned to him.

“I’ve ruined you.” I focused on his image in the glass. “You’re almost as pervy as me.”

“We have the rest of our lives for me to catch up,” he said smoothly. “Assuming you let me hang around that long.”

“I’ll take it under consideration.”

I scooted closer, leaned my head against his shoulder, and tried not to think too hard about how certain I already was that I couldn’t live without him.

* * *

The lights were out at the motel, which should have been our first clue something was wrong. But I was tired, sticky, and willing to pretend we could interview our latest suspect and best hope of solving the case without it all going to Hael in a handbasket.

What?

I can be optimistic. It’s allowed. It’s impractical, and I usually regret it later, but I still indulge on occasion.

“Do you smell that?” Asa stepped up beside me. “Ozone.”