Gray Witch (Black Hat Bureau 5)

8

Had Asa not set an alarm, I might not have woken at dusk. Or dawn. Or dusk the next day.

Used to paying the toll for travel between this world and the Hael pocket realm, Asa had a headache to my hangover. I inhaled the three breakfast burritos he ordered before we showered and wished he had bought ten more. Fluffy eggs, crisp smoked bacon, avocado, crunchy hashbrowns, cotija cheese, pickled jalapeños, and chipotle aioli. What wasn’t to love?

We took our spicy Café de Olla to go, which gave me time to answer the backlog of texts and calls from Parish, and the Natchez team, demanding our ETA while Asa drove us to our next potential link in the summoner’s ring.

The VacayNStay was a grand old colonial with a historically accurate blue-on-blue color palette. Fountain in the front, pulsing in time with a light show, and a garden in the back, hung with fairy lights. Perfect for a romantic stroll. The lawn was thick and lush. Impressive. And the circular driveway had been extended into more of a Q than an O, with guest parking in the tiny lot—more of a strip—off the side of the house.

Definitely not a place you rolled up to and thought, This is it. This is where it all ends.

The Amherst kids could take a lesson from the resident summoner on subtlety.

There were three other cars, two with out-of-state plates. Those must be guests, the same as us. That would make sneaking around that much harder, but it also gave us a layer of insulation among others.

Before we got tangled up in our next line of inquiry, I shot Clay a text.

>We’re here.

>>Keep us updated.

“Do you think Markus warned his friends?” Asa left our things in the SUV. “It might cause problems.”

“If he did, and they can identify us, this will all be over quickly.” The Amhersts could have snapped pictures of us on their phones at any given time. They were likely more inclined to do so after we asked them not to. “We played it straight with the Amhersts.” Mostly. They knew we were Bureau, just not which one. “What’s our ploy here?”

“Honeymooners,” he suggested. “That might earn us fewer interruptions.”

“Hmm.” I pretended to consider his idea. “It would also explain why we have no clothes.”

Just what we had on our backs, both of us rumpled from yesterday’s adventures.

“Oh?”

“I ripped them off you.” I popped a button on his shirt. “They’re in tatters down the interstate.”

“And your clothes?” He leaned in closer. “What happened to them?”

“You,” I said simply.

Leaning down, he brushed his mouth over mine and latched his arms around my waist.

“We’re being watched.” His breath coasted over my lips. “Is Operation Honeymoon a go?”

“We’re already making out in the parking lot,” I murmured. “I would hate to blow our cover.”

With a flourish, Asa twirled me into a dance that tangled my feet with his in a way that made me want to kick his legs from under him and ride him down to the ground. Heat in his eyes, he dipped me until my hair brushed the gravel then dragged a fingertip from my chin to the valley between my breasts.

This would have looked so much more convincing if I were in a dress to flatter his black suit.

Oh well.

We work with what we’re given.

Loud claps snapped me to attention, and I found a woman in her midsixties swooning on the porch.

“That was lovely.” She continued her applause. “How romantic.”

“Hi.” I let Asa pull me upright and tuck me under his arm. “We have a reservation.”