Witchy Dreams

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Thanks, Braden.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  Angelina was busy talking to a group of men – all in their dress blues – next to another bistro table. She hadn’t seen us yet. I was sure of that. If she had, she would have left little heel marks on every cop who got in her way as she made a beeline for Cillian.

  “Well, I think we’ve done our due diligence,” I said, visions of fifty cops pulling me off Angelina as I ripped her acrylic nails off her fingers flitting through my head. “We should go.”

  “Dad won’t like that,” Redmond said. “He won’t care what the reason is.”

  Griffin was incredulous. “You guys are really going to leave because she’s here?”

  He clearly hadn’t spent enough time with Angelina at the precinct earlier this week. “She’s the devil.”

  “Oh, I got that,” Griffin said. “I just don’t understand why you guys are all running from her.”

  “We’re not running,” Cillian said, his voice low.

  “Okay, running isn’t the right word,” Griffin said. “Fleeing might be a better word.”

  “No,” Cillian said, his voice firm. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Cillian, it’s not a big thing,” I said. “We don’t have to stay here. We’ll just make sure that Dad sees us and then we’ll sneak out.”

  “I can be in the same room with her,” Cillian replied. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “You shouldn’t have to be in the same room with her,” Redmond interjected, putting his hand on Cillian’s shoulder in a show of solidarity.

  “No,” I agreed. “She should crawl under a rock and die and we should never have to see her again.”

  “Don’t wish for the death of another person, Bug,” Jerry chided me. “It’s gauche.”

  “It’s Angelina, though,” Aidan argued.

  “Fine,” Jerry ceded. “Don’t wish for a painful death, though.”

  Slowly, everyone turned their attention back to the finger foods and assorted drinks and we lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

  “Maybe we should mingle,” Redmond suggested.

  “With whom?” Mingling is not part of my vocabulary.

  “There are hundreds of hot men here, Bug,” Jerry said. “Even you could get laid.”

  Redmond shot Jerry a dark look. “Don’t be cute.”

  “I’m always cute,” Jerry said.

  “You’re not right now.”

  My shoulders shook with silent laughter. I risked a glance at Griffin, who was still loitering at the edge of the table, and saw that his gaze was still fixed on the other side of the room. The petulant part of me wondered if he was as taken with Angelina and her long legs, just like every other man I had ever met.

  “Your friend is coming over here.”

  Crap.

  “We could run,” Jerry offered.

  “That wouldn’t look obvious,” I replied.

  “It’s too late anyway,” Griffin said, lifting his beer to his lips and taking a drink. He looked amused – and curious. I think he was interested in seeing what would happen.

  “Cillian, it’s so good to see you.”

  My spine stiffened at the sound of Angelina’s voice. I can’t beat her up in front of a roomful of cops, but maybe I can cut her tongue out without anyone noticing.

  “Angelina.” Cillian’s voice was hard and empty. I barely recognized it.

  “How are you? How are all of you? Braden, it’s good to see you, too.”

  “What about me?” I asked. “Isn’t it good to see me?”

  “I just saw you.”

  “Great. Let’s do it again in five years,” I suggested.

  “I’m not talking to you,” Angelina replied curtly. “I’m talking to Cillian.”

  “Well, he doesn’t want to talk to you,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Jerry agreed.

  “I think he can talk for himself,” Angelina said, reaching out and rubbing her hand along Cillian’s forearm suggestively. “Isn’t that right?”

  Cillian met Angelina’s flirty look with a dark one of his own. “I don’t have anything to say to you, Angelina.”

  For the first time, uncertainty flashed across Angelina’s heavily made up face. “If we could just be alone for a second … .”

  “Over my dead body,” I said, fighting to keep my voice low enough that we didn’t start drawing unwanted attention.

  There was a hand on my arm within seconds. I figured it was Jerry, but the firm grip caused me to send him a questioning look. That’s when I found out it wasn’t Jerry, after all, it was Griffin. “Actually, I think you and I are going to dance,” he said.

  “Since when?” Dancing with Griffin was tempting, but making Angelina cry had a lot more appeal at the moment.

  “Right now.” Griffin was firm as he dragged me out to the dance floor. There weren’t a lot of couples out there, but it wasn’t so empty that we stood out. It was a slow song and Griffin wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled my hips flush with his. I lifted my arms and hooked them around his neck, swaying to the music, but never taking my eyes off Angelina. I couldn’t hear what was going on at the table, but it didn’t look good. Angelina’s face was screwed up into one of those ugly scowls that often precede bursting into tears.

  “Why are you smiling?” Griffin asked, drawing my attention back to him.

  “Because Angelina looks like she’s going to cry.” I saw no point in lying.

  “You really don’t like her, do you?”

  “I hate her.”

  “Because she slept with your boyfriends?”

  “No,” I shook my head, trying not to focus on how warm Griffin’s body felt next to mine. “That only warrants dislike.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because she messed with my brother,” I admitted, chewing on my bottom lip.

  Griffin smiled. “You guys are close.”

  “They’re my brothers.”

  “Not all brothers and sisters are as close as you guys, though,” Griffin replied. “You guys seem especially close.”

  “We’re all close in age,” I said. “It doesn’t seem weird to me because it’s always been this way.”

  “They seem protective of you.”

  “They are.”

  “And you seem protective of them.”

  “When they need it,” I said.

  “I like it,” Griffin said. “In my line of work, most of the families I deal with have done something horrible to each other. I’m not really worried about that with you guys.”

  “What are you worried about with us?”

  “That you’ll cover up crimes together.” I guess he was going for honesty, too.

  “That’s a bummer for you,” I said.

  “It is,” Griffin agreed, tilting his head to the side. “Still, I don’t think you guys are covering up murder.”

  Alarms started clanging in my head. This couldn’t be good. “What is it you think we’re covering up?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” he said. “But I plan on finding out.”

  Eighteen

  Dinner was slow. Dancing afterward was mildly entertaining. I took a turn around the dance floor with each of my brothers – and Jerry – and then excused myself to go to the bathroom. That’s where I found Angelina trying to fix her makeup after a crying jag. I thought about kicking her while she was down but figured that would just be petty. What? I’m mean, but I’m not heartless, especially when I win.

  Instead, I hid in the stall until her sniffling diminished and I was sure she had exited the bathroom.

  When I rejoined the party, I couldn’t find my brothers or Jerry.

  “Looking for someone?”

  Griffin was at my side. I hadn’t seen him since our dance earlier, not that I was looking or anything.

  “Did you see where my brothers and Jerry went?”

  Griffin scanned the room and shook his h
ead. “They wouldn’t have left you, would they?”

  “No.” At least I hoped not.

  Griffin put down his beer and grabbed my hand. I thought about yanking it back, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. Instead, I let him lead me around the room as we searched for them. After twenty minutes, we gave up.

  “I’ll just call a cab,” I said.

  “You didn’t drive here?”

  “No,” I replied. “Jerry drove.”

  “Why would he leave you?”

  “He probably figured I dodged out and got a ride home,” I said. “It’s not a big deal. I can probably get a cab here within twenty minutes.”

  Griffin didn’t look so sure. Detroit’s cab companies aren’t known for being reliable – or safe. “What about your dad? Didn’t your brothers say he was here, too?”

  I’d rather ride Angelina home. I didn’t say that, though. “I’d rather not.”

  Griffin sighed. “Why don’t I just take you home?”

  There was a slight tingle in the tips of my fingers. A brief flash of Griffin rolling around in my bed with me – naked – rushed through my mind. “Um, no, I can call a cab.”

  Griffin looked exasperated, as though he had read my mind. “It’s just a ride home,” he said. “No sex has to be involved.”

  I gaped at his words. “What the hell?”

  Griffin smiled. “I won’t turn it down if you offer, though.”

  “YOU SHOULD turn right on Main Street,” I instructed Griffin twenty minutes later.

  The ride to Royal Oak had been uncomfortable – and it wasn’t just because you could cut the sexual tension in the car with a knife and fill a sandwich with it.

  “I know where you live,” Griffin reminded me.

  “I was just trying to help.”

  “No, you were being a backseat driver.”

  “You can’t be a backseat driver when you’re in the passenger seat.”

  Griffin glanced over at me, his expression unreadable. “Are you always this much of a pain?”

  “You’ll have to ask my brothers,” I sniffed.

  “I’m guessing they’re going to say you are.”

  “They’re idiots.”

  Griffin smirked but didn’t say another word for the rest of our drive. Jerry’s car was parked in front of the condo when we pulled into the driveway, and a fresh wave of rage washed over me when I saw it. “He ditched me. I can’t believe it.”

  “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to ditch a woman, especially you,” Griffin said. “Maybe he thought you left with one of your other brothers?”

  “Why would I do that when we live together?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  I was going to do just that. I opened the door and moved to slide out of the car, stopping long enough to remember the manners my mother had drilled into my head since I was a little girl. “Thank you for the ride.”

  Griffin switched off the ignition and opened his own door. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  “That’s really not necessary.”

  “No, but it’s what a man does when he dropping a woman off,” Griffin said. “It’s the polite thing to do.”

  This wasn’t a date. Did he think this was a date? “We’re not on a date.”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  It does to me. I climbed out of the car and slammed the door, fixing Griffin with a hard stare across the roof of his car. “I’m perfectly capable of walking twenty feet to my front door.”

  “I didn’t say you weren’t,” he replied, swinging his door shut.

  “So, you don’t need to walk me.”

  “Why do you care if I walk you? Does it offend your feminine sensibilities?”

  No, because I needed to get away from him before I ripped his shirt off. “Because I’m an adult and I don’t need men smothering me with … man stuff.”

  “What kind of man stuff are we talking about here?” Griffin asked, a smile moving across his lips.

  Okay, maybe that came out wrong. “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I want to hear about all this man stuff you don’t want to be smothered with,” Griffin said. “I think I need a visual.”

  “Men,” I huffed, moving toward the front door of the condo and giving my hips just a little bit of extra swing for emphasis. Unfortunately, Griffin wasn’t deterred by my bad attitude.

  He walked me the entire way up the front walk, not pausing until we were both at the front door. I turned to him, my heart pounding in my chest, and tried to read the emotions behind his dark eyes. “Well,” I said finally. “You walked me to my front door.”

  “You’re not safely inside yet, though, are you?”

  “Really?”

  “Really what?”

  “Are you just doing this so I’ll invite you in?”

  “And what? Show you my man stuff?” Griffin’s eyes were heavy-lidded and the meaning behind his double entendre wasn’t lost on me.

  “You’re unbelievable,” I grumbled, rummaging through my small clutch purse until I found my keys. I selected the right one, slipped it in the lock and turned the handle. If I was worried about what might happen when Griffin finally said his goodbyes, I shouldn’t have been. The sight waiting for me on my couch was enough to give me nightmares for a week – and kill any romantic yearnings that I had where Griffin and his tight butt were concerned.

  “Oh my God!”

  Griffin must have misread the horror on my face, because he pushed me to the side and bolted through the door to face the terrifying scene that greeted me. His gun was in his hand (where had that been the whole night?) and all of the flirt he had been exuding only seconds before was gone.

  I’m sure Griffin has seen some horrible things. I should have prepared him for what he was walking in to, because he’ll never be able to wash that sight from his mind.

  I know I won’t be able to.

  So, was Jerry forced at gunpoint to leave the party and then return to our home? It depends on what kind of gun you’re envisioning. Actually, speaking of guns, I wonder if Griffin would loan me his so I can shoot myself in the head?

  “Aisling! I … what … where did you go?”

  I strode into the room, covering my eyes as I went. Since Jerry and Aidan were in varying stages of undress – and they’d been groping like teenagers on prom night on the couch when I opened the door -- they’d been so caught up in each other they hadn’t noticed me enter the condo.

  “I’m blind,” I screeched.

  I risked a side look at Griffin, but his face was hard to read. It was red – from the obvious embarrassment – but he looked as though he was fighting the urge to laugh as well. This was not funny.

  “Let’s not be dramatic,” Aidan said, pushing away from Jerry to leave a small gap on the couch between the two of them.

  “Not be dramatic? You’re making out with my best friend on my couch.”

  “So? We’re both adults.”

  “You’re my brother.”

  “I think that whole sharing a womb at the same time tipped me off,” Aidan drawled. “Just don’t freak out.”

  “My brother is making out with my best friend on my couch,” I said. “This is the time to freak out.”

  “You’re spazzing, and it’s not attractive,” Aidan said. “Why don’t you have a drink and calm down.” Aidan patted the open seat on the couch next to him.

  “That couch has to be burned,” I said.

  “Why? This is a nice couch.”

  Griffin cleared his throat. “Um, I’m going to leave you to … this.”

  I had almost forgotten he was still here. “Thanks for the ride, although I’m betting you’re rethinking that whole ‘walk a woman to her door’ thing you insisted on.”

  “No problem,” he said, shooting Jerry and Aidan a stern look. “You really shouldn’t have left her in Detroit to find her own way home.”

  “We thought she left with you,” Aidan said. “We never
would have left her there.”

  “Why would I leave with him?” I was scandalized – and embarrassed.

  “Because you’re warm for his form,” Jerry said simply.

  “I told you to stop saying that,” I hissed.

  “What? That you’re hot for me?” Griffin looked interested.

  “No,” I shook my head, ignoring his pointed look. “Warm for your form. It’s a stupid saying and it bugs me. He and Aidan have been saying it for days.”

  “If you went home with him, Bug, things wouldn’t bug you as much,” Jerry said. “Bug being bugged. That’s kind of funny.”

  I would murder him if a cop wasn’t in the room.

  Griffin chuckled, not trying to hide his wide smile. “Well, that’s flattering. I think. I’ll … be in touch.”

  I met his gaze, feeling a weird mixture of emotions – fear, longing, regret – wash over me. “I’ll see you.”

  “You will,” Griffin agreed, shutting the door behind him as he left.

  Once it was just the three of us, I turned back to Jerry and Aidan. “Do you two want to explain yourselves?”

  “I think he likes you,” Jerry said.

  “That’s not what I’m talking about,” I shot back.

  “That’s good for us,” Aidan said. “If he’s hot for you, that means he can’t possibly think we’re murderers.”

  “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know that we’re up to something,” I countered.

  “He doesn’t know what, though,” Jerry said. “He’ll never be able to figure that out. I know and I still don’t believe it.”

  “We’re getting off point.”

  “What’s the point again?” Aidan asked.

  “That you two were about to get all … groiny on my couch.”

  “Groiny? That’s not a word.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “It should be.”

  “Just chill,” Aidan said. “It’s not a big thing. We had a few drinks and we were watching some television and one thing led to another … it was an accident.”

  I glanced down at the Blu-Ray case on the table and knew he was lying. “You were watching Pretty Woman and thought that wouldn’t lead to something?”

  Pretty Woman is like catnip for Jerry.

  “Nothing happened, Bug,” Jerry said. “A few kisses, a little petting.”