I restrained myself from elbowing him in the ribs. Barely. I’d probably break my arm on his titanium body and he’d give me that smug half smile of his and say something jackassy about how I didn’t make good choices for myself. And then he’d call a yard crew to cart me to the ER in the back of their lawn mower trailer.
Ranger tipped his hat and motioned for Phil Collins to go ahead of him into the café. Then he raised a hand in greeting and called, “Good morning, Agent Price.”
“Do you two know each other?” Beckett asked.
Ranger lifted his broad shoulders. “I make a point of knowing when law enforcement agents invite themselves to my town.”
Once we were alone again, I asked, “Is Ranger his name or his title?”
Beckett frowned at his phone, saying, “It could go either way.”
We watched as Agent Price strolled into the café. He offered a quick wave and a sheepish grin that didn’t make too much sense given his enthusiasm for basil lemonade but then I caught Beckett’s glare. It seemed I wasn’t the only one on the receiving end of the troll’s moods.
With a contemptuous glare at his phone, he continued, “As I said, the work will be finished today. Should any future inconveniences arise, I’ll see that someone from SPOC notifies you or a member of your coven. Is that sufficient?”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little—”
“Goddammit, Sunny.” He stepped into my space and forced me back against the side of the building, though this time he did it without touching me. He kept his hands raised as if he was prepared to drag me out of the forklift’s path but he’d rather do it with the indomitable force of his will.
Somehow, this shook me harder than both of his hands on my body.
Breathless and more unsteady than I’d admit to anyone, I stared up at him, all green-brown eyes and sea-swept dark hair and broad shoulders, and I almost forgot that I despised this man. That I’d tolerated the intolerable from him, and I wasn’t going down that road again. I was stronger now, and smarter too, and he had no idea what was coming to him.
I took a step sideways, out of his invisible hold.
As I walked toward the café, not bothering to look back at him, he called, “Be careful, storm cloud. I can’t look after you all day.”
chaptersix
Beckett
Today’s Special:
Soft-Shelled Skirt
I didn’t openmy eyes as I reached for my phone. I knew where it was without looking and I wasn’t willing to leave the last fragment of this dream behind for anything. It was a distant, watery vision of a gorgeous woman with dark hair, and her hands were everywhere. I couldn’t see her face, thank god, but Iwantedher and the unknown made it deniable enough for me to want her without feeling like a backstabbing pervert.
But I had to answer my fucking phone. “What?” I grumbled.
“Oh, Beck! Thisisyour number! I’m so happy I remembered it!”
I forced my eyes open and my mind away from that hair and those hands. I squinted at the read-out on the screen. “Mom?”
“I lost my passport, Beck,” she went on, “and I missed my flight because I was looking for it. The girls had gone ahead of me because I wanted to give your dad a buzz before going through airport security. You know how he gets so distracted when he hears flight announcements over the phone. But Melissa had his phone and said the police were at the restaurant? I had no idea what she was talking about. What’s going on, Beck?”
“Well,” I said with a sexually frustrated yawn, “Dad was arrested along with a couple of servers, Marty, and the lobster guy.”
I’d never not be pissed that Marty, the person I’d handpicked to run the restaurant so my parents could focus on things that fell in line with their interests and talents, turned out to be a crook. Not only had I selected him, but I’d defended him too. Mel had long insisted the vibes were off, and Hale was unusually cautious with him. And I’d ignored them.
“For what?” she yelped. “I tried to call Melissa again but I dropped my phone in a toilet and none of my credit cards worked when I tried to get a new one.”
I paused to add up the days since Mel called me with the news. “Where have you been staying, Mom? It’s been almost two weeks.”
“I got a ride to a cute little island. It’s called—”
“Don’t tell me.Easy on the identifying details, unless you want the FBI agents surveilling me to show up within six hours and arrest you as a coconspirator.”
“But what didIdo?”
