But she was stunned to find a collection of nicely crafted redwood planters outside, each bearing some kind of succulent or cactus.
As a witch, she knew better than anyone the importance of having and caring for a garden. All kinds of energies moved in and out of the plants and the soil. Even the insects that arrived to partake of the bounty had a purpose and changed things.
Checking to make sure the wood was sanded down smooth, she slowly lowered her bare-ish bottom onto the chair. So far, so good. She sipped more of her wine and tried to figure out what she was seeing. Connor’s home looked thought-out, not just jumbled together, another sign he’d been around longer than the thirty-years he looked.
After a few minutes, she went back inside, closing the sliding glass door behind her. A black t-shirt lay on the couch and in the distance, she heard the shower running.
She unclipped her Sig holster and settled it on the nearest sofa cushion. Her belt and jeans were next. After she unbuckled and set the button loose, she unzipped, then slowly slid her pants down her achy body.
Her cuts and bruises were only half healed. If she’d been badly injured, she would have needed some quiet time and a homemade salve made with her favorite medicinal herbs. And a long soak in her tub steeped with bay leaves, lavender, and rosemary.
Sliding off her top, she donned Connor’s black t-shirt. It hit her mid-thigh, which would cover her well enough for now. She folded up her clothes and pulled her cell from her pants pocket, grateful not
to have lost her phone in the blast. She then gathered up her belongings and placed them in a neat pile on the dining table.
She smelled the sleeve of Connor’s shirt, liking how fresh it was. She’d been a witch for ten years and in all that time she’d never been this close to a vampire. She’d long since supposed they all lived like animals. She knew it wasn’t universally true, but so many did, lost as a lot of them were to the flame drugs.
She thought about calling for a cab and heading home, but chose to wait. She needed to talk with Connor before she left, even to thank him again.
But as her thoughts turned back to the explosion, once more she pondered why she and Connor had been summoned to Sentinel. Who the hell wanted them dead?
~ ~ ~
After showering, Connor returned to the living room and invited Iris to join him at the dining table. He had a solid reason for not wanting to sit beside her on the couch. Her legs were way too bare and some of his damn fantasies, especially the more involved ones, had taken place on his couch.
He’d done a lot of thinking in the shower. He suspected he’d get some answers from Big Nuts about who or what was behind the set-up.
What he couldn’t put together was how he might be connected to a witch he’d never formally met before.
Iris sat down at the table, angling her chair toward him. He leaned his forearms on his thighs, his chair also turned away from the table. The relative position however, gave him another solid view of her shapely legs.
He slid his gaze up, intending to land on her face, but got stuck on her throat. He saw the pulse and a different kind of lust worked him. He’d heard witch blood was the best. He’d had it once, but he’d been lost in blood flame and had no memories of it. Guilt of course tried to rise, but he pushed it down and for a bare moment allowed himself to wonder what Iris’s blood would be like flowing down his throat.
This led to other issues, so he finally forced himself to focus on what had led them here together tonight. “What’s your job description at the Tribunal? I know you’re a Public Safety officer, but what do you do specifically?”
“I work the tip-line and observe crime scenes. Mostly, I make a lot of reports that are usually ignored. Occasionally, I’m sent out to assess an out of control vampire, warlock, witch or shifter. If needed, I’ll take him or her out, but always with an eye to public safety.”
He nodded. “Sounds like a shit job.”
He watched her shoulders fall about a quarter of an inch. He liked that she worked hard not to show her emotions. Of course in Five Bridges, revealing your cards could get you killed.
“You could call it that, except every once in a while I get to do some good.” She chuckled softly. “I’d hoped to do some real good tonight and take out a corrupt Border Patrol officer. Then you carried that woman away instead of killing her.”
He measured the look in her eye. “You would have done it, too. You would have shot me out there in the wash if I’d killed her.”
“Yes, I would have.”
He narrowed his gaze. “But I would have had a legal right, decreed by the Tribunal, to kill any runner attempting to take drugs out of Five Bridges.”
“But you didn’t kill her.”
“The point is, if I had, you would have killed me.”
She nodded. “But even I could see the woman was thin and very weak. She posed no threat and I’m sure you knew she wasn’t likely to succeed in getting the drugs to the border.”
“So you could see her? At that distance?”
“My spotting scope could, which means I could see the flame rash on her neck. I knew she was a drug addict and probably desperate. Mostly, I knew you could easily overpower her. So yes, if you’d killed the woman, I would have taken my shot.”