My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. “I thought the fae didn’t like steel, I thought it burned them. I know he can touch it, he makes weapons.”
Eric smiled. “Crash isn’t his first name. It’s the one he’s taken. He’s the Smith, Bree. He’s the fae king.”
And I’d kissed him. Jaysus lord in heaven. I closed my eyes and leaned in my chair, and that was about as far as I could go.
“You need to sleep. We can talk more when you wake up.”
I’m not sure if he picked me up, or if I wandered over to that overstuffed couch, but a moment later I was lying down, the soft blanket over my body and tucked around my face as I snuggled deep into the cushions.
Sleep slammed into me, yes, slammed. I was out cold, and yet as deep as it was, I still dreamed.
Of Crash and Corb. Of Eric, and of Feish wringing her hands. Robert was there too—everyone was there. Eammon and the other mentors all looked sad. So sad.
I blinked and walked around them, trying to get their attention only to realize I couldn’t, which was when I realized why.
In the dream, I was dead.
Wake up. Now.
I jerked awake, sweat rolling down my face as I sat up and tried to figure out where I was.
Eric sat at his table, bent over a piece of paper, a few books splayed open around him. The sound of his pen scratching across the paper was the noise that I could say might have woken me up. But those words shifted inside my head.
Danger.
“Eric. We have to go.” I flipped off the blanket, struggled to get my legs moving as the cramping and tightness from all the running and training caught up to me. Advil, I needed an Advil, maybe a whole bottle. But whatever was pushing me was full on shoving me now, the feeling of danger riding me hard.
An instinct that was trying so very hard to keep me alive.
As if reading my mind, Eric shoved two pills at me. “We aren’t going anywhere until you take these. You moan in your sleep. You should have taken them before you passed out.”
I grabbed the pills, dry swallowed them, and then took his hand. “We have to go!”
“It’s fine, it was just a dream,” he said, but then he went still and cocked his head to the side.
I don’t know what it was, but whatever instinct I had said to get down. I yanked his hand hard and pulled him to the ground as the boom of several guns ripped through the air.
Something stung my left calf and I yelped and reached for the meat of my leg. Warmth oozed out around my fingers and I realized I’d been shot.
I’d been shot!
The gunfire eased off, and along with it, the feeling of danger slid out of the room. I lay there on the floor staring at Eric. “You think that was for you or for me?”
He blinked at me, and his round-rimmed glasses only adding to his resemblance to a startled owl. “That’s a good question.”
I held my free hand up, stopping him. The danger had eased, but there was the sound of footsteps running toward us. How the hell I could hear that over the pounding of my own heart I don’t know.
But I rolled onto my back, facing the only door of the house, and pulled my two knives as the door was kicked open. My left blade flew from my hand before I registered that the person in the doorway was not one I wanted to stick with my knife.
A flash of bright steel, end over end. Crash caught the blade handle, a mere inch from his face. “Good throw.”
“Better catch,” I breathed out, horror quickly replacing the adrenaline. Anyone else, I had no doubt, would have ended up with a blade in their face. “Are they still there?”
Crash shook his head. “Not that I could see.”
I sat up. “Eric, you got some wraps?”
“Oh, yes, of course, I have a first aid kit.”
Crash let himself the rest of the way in and crouched beside me. He handed my knife back and I put it away, thinking that everyone was acting very calm for the current situation. Nobody was running off half-cocked or flapping their hands in hysterics. Then again, everyone here was over forty.
Go middle-agers!
I pulled my pant leg up over my knee, hissing as it slid over the bullet hole. “Damn, at least it went right through.”
Crash’s hands slid around my leg, the heat from them increasing second by second. “Yes, a clean wound is the best outcome here.”
Eric knelt on the other side of me and pulled out a needle and thread. “Here, we can stitch this up.”
“I can fix it,” Crash said.
“And then she’ll owe you,” Eric said softly. “That needs to be her decision.”
Crash’s jaw ticked and then he slowly nodded. “You are correct. The law stands no matter what the circumstances.”
His words were strangely formal, but something else stood out to me more: he was holding my gaze in a way that made me think he didn’t want me to take him up on his offer. Weird, but I didn’t need to owe him anything else.
“I’ll take the stitches,” I said. Crash moved to leave and I grabbed his hand. “Yeah, you need to give me something to hang onto while he sticks me with the needle.”
His fingers wrapped around mine and I closed my eyes as Eric pushed the needle in through the screaming tender flesh around the bullet hole. Because the bullet had gone right through, he had to stitch both sides.
“Why are you here, Crash?” I asked. “Seems a little convenient that you show up and the shooter stops.”
“Terrible idea accusing him,” Eric whispered. But I opened my eyes and stared straight into Crash’s gaze.
“Well?”
Crash didn’t smile, his face was neutral. “I could ask you why you are sleeping out here with the bigfoot.”
“Guns first,” I said. I noticed he didn’t rush to explain himself. I mean, I could guess that he was still out there trying to get through to the item protected by the oak trees. But I wanted him to say it.
I wanted him to be honest with me about something.
Crash’s hand wrapped a little tighter around mine. “It smelled like a shifter to me. And moved like one too, but it felt . . . off. That’s the only word for it. As if there were magic involved. And then he was gone before I could get a read on what type of shifter he was.”
I snorted and then hissed as Eric pushed the needle through another layer of flesh. “Right, well, it seems that’s a given, magic being involved, that is.”
Crash’s lips twitched upward. “I mean that the shifter felt as though he’d been spelled hard.”
I didn’t quite understand what Crash meant by that, but the pain suddenly ratcheted up and my teeth clamped shut.
“Almost there,” Eric mumbled.
“I’m impressed,” I said through gritted teeth. “You’ve got big hands, but you are pretty quick with a needle.”
Eric smiled and blushed. “Thank you.”
Crash didn’t let go of me, his hand locking fingers with mine in a gesture that I couldn’t deny left me feeling a little breathless.
Stitched, with a brand new wrap around my leg and my pant leg back in place, I stood up, testing the leg.
There would be very little running for me tonight.
“I’ll take you back to my place,” Crash said, helping me stand.
“You think that’s a good idea?” Eric asked.
“I think you should come with her,” Crash said. “You don’t know who they were after.”
“I’d like to know who they were,” I pointed out as I hobbled to the door and peeked out. There was no sign of anyone, certainly no guns pointing at me, or at least none that I could see or sense. “And I can’t go home. I have training.”
Crash grunted. “You can barely walk.”
“Training isn’t all physical, you know that, right? If you’re stupid, all the running in the world won’t save you.” I attempted my eyebrow arch, still thinking that one day I’d manage the move. But that day was not today. Both eyebrows rose high.
I folded my arms. “Eric c
an come with me to the Hollows. He’ll be as safe there as anywhere.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Because it was a lie and I was no liar.
Crash’s eyes narrowed. “Something happened at the Hollows?”
I clasped my hands behind my back. “I’ll tell you on the way, how about that?”
At this point, did it matter who knew about Douche Canoe and his friend? I wasn’t sure. Eric knew, but Eric I could trust. And if Crash was working for Douche Canoe and his pasty little friend, what then? I mean, I knew he was making the crucible, but that didn’t necessarily mean they were his best buddies. But he might be obligated to say something to them. I couldn’t risk that.
Crash didn’t let go of me, but instead scooped me up into his arms and strode out the door, Eric trailing behind us.
“I can walk,” I said, though I’ll be honest, the whole being carried around thing was nice.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing us even closer.
“You could hobble at best, and you are already going to be late for your training. I can drop you off at the river, and Eric can help you get to the Hollows from there.” Crash’s voice rumbled not only in my ears but through my body, pressed to his chest as I was. “Unless it’s not safe at the Hollows?”
The urge to lock my legs around him rushed over me, and I closed my eyes as I fought off a wave of lust and libido that threatened to overwhelm me.
“Too tight,” Crash whispered, and I realized I’d tightened my hold on his neck.
“Sorry, sorry!” I shook my head. “And yes, it is safe at the Hollows. Just fine and dandy as always.”
The day was bright, the sun high, the birds singing, and yet I’d been shot. Eric and I were probably supposed to be dead. I looked back at him. He was a good guy, no matter that he was a shifter—a half-man, as my gran would have said. He smiled at me and hurried a few steps, his long legs eating the distance between us.
“So what happened at the Hollows?” he asked softly.
Crash slowed a little and I sighed. Damn it. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Two mages came by last night. They spelled all the mentors and the trainees. Because we interfered with Hattie’s ceremony, saving you.”
Eric’s face fell. “There is something I should tell you about that.”
Crash slowed further, stopped and turned toward Eric. “What happened?”
Eric touched his bowtie and lowered his head, and when he spoke again, pain filled his voice. “There was another ceremony, a third one. They were truly prepared. My cousin was killed in New Orleans that same night.”
“Eric, I’m so sorry,” I reached a hand out to him and he took it, his palm engulfing mine. “I’m so sorry. If we’d known . . .”
“I know. I tried to warn him, but he thought I was being ridiculous. He said I was being paranoid.” He shook his head.
Crash put a hand on Eric’s shoulder, but said nothing. A very manly move—no words, just a hand on the shoulder.
Eric patted his hand, again no words.
“We need to hurry.” Crash slid his hand around my back again and picked up speed. “You two have to get to the Hollows.”
“But what about the mages? They put a spell on all the mentors and trainees so no one can speak about them, and they made it pretty clear they’d punish any one who interferes.” I bounced the words out because Crash was jogging, moving at a good clip. “What if one of those guys shot at us?”
That slowed Crash. “You were just out there visiting a friend. Why would they come after you? I don’t know who shot at you, but I’m sure it wasn’t a mage.”
I shrugged, as if I hadn’t been out there on a job, working for his ex-wife. “They could be angry that I interfered before. They seem pissy in general, like they wear their underwear two sizes too small and it pulls on their pubes with every step they take.”
Crash’s face went carefully blank, and then he let out a chuckle. “You . . . you’re right, they are generally pissy.” As if he knew.
I swallowed hard, deciding to take a chance. “One of them was the guy you’re working for, Crash. The one who wanted you to make the crucible.”
That slowed him down. His eyes closed for just a moment. “That is . . . not good.”
“You know who they are?”
“I do. But I can’t speak their names either,” he said.
He slowed further and his hands loosened their hold on me. The second my foot hit the ground I grimaced. For some reason, the wound had been at the back of my mind as Crash carried me. Even now, it was bad, but not as bad as before.
He took my hand and led me out to a boat—Feish’s boat, with Feish in it. Her eyes widened when she saw me and Eric. “My friends, what are they doing out here?”
“Getting into trouble,” Crash said.
“Hey, I resemble that!” I said as I stepped around him, taking Feish’s webbed hand as she helped me into the boat.
Eric followed, but Crash did not.
“Wait, where are you going?” I leaned over the edge of the boat, splashing water at Crash as Feish backed us away from the shoreline.
He gave me a wink. “I don’t like people shooting at my friends. I’m going to see if I can track the shifter.”
Eric rocked the boat as he settled into his seat and I tightened my grip on the edge. “Crash, don’t get hurt.”
Gah, I hated how that sounded. Like I cared. I mean, I did. But I wasn’t supposed to care. Another wink was all I got, and then he turned away and jogged back the way we’d come.
I slumped in my seat and put a hand to the wound in my leg. It was definitely better healed than it should have been.
Was that Crash? Had he healed my leg even after I’d asked him not to? Did he want me to owe him a favor, after all? Ducking men and their ducking games. The memory of his kiss reminded me why we girls put up with them. Hotness factor one thousand, that was why.
Feish looked me over. “Are you okay?”
I sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know.” And I really didn’t.
As the boat scooted down the river, headed toward the boundary line of the Hollows, a fluttering set of wings caught up to us.
“Kinkly!” I yelled as she shot toward my hand. Her wings were tattered and she looked like she’d been pulled backward through a knothole. “Hey, what happened?”
“Fight with the B-boys.” She slumped as she landed in my upturned palm. “I was coming to check on you, and they caught me as they were leaving.”
I pulled her close and whispered, “The yellow and black fairies?”
“Yes. Pricks,” she mumbled. “They roughed me up, but I’m faster than them. What did you see?”
I gave her a quick report, down to the fact that Crash had almost caught me but still didn’t know what I was doing because I’d used Eric as an alibi. Kinkly looked at Eric. “Hi, Eric. How are you doing?”
“Kinkly. I’m well.” He was being strangely formal. I realized then that she was showing a lot of leg and he was blushing like crazy while trying not to stare. Oh, lordy, that was not a match made in heaven. The size difference alone was staggering.
Kinkly nodded at him, then pointed at my leg. “What happened? Did Crash shoot you?”
I shook my head. “No, someone else.”
She sighed and lifted above my hand. “I’ll check in with you after I report back to my queen.”
Just at the periphery of my vision, Feish stiffened up. Of course, she would understand what I’d gotten myself into more than anyone else. Karissa was Crash’s ex. Feish would of course side with him. “Okay, sounds good. Be safe, Kink.”
She blinked at me, what I think might have been tears. “Okay. You too. Don’t get shot again.” She paused. “Bye Eric.” And then she was gone in a flash.
“Goodbye,” he whispered, sounding like a lovesick puppy.
I leaned back against the edge of the boat. The sun was on its downward slide already. I was going to be late for training if we went the usual route t
o River Street then across Savannah’s downtown district to get to the Hollows. “Feish, how long before we are there?”
“Ten minutes, if we go all the way by boat,” she said. “You be a little late, but not too late.”
True to her word, we pulled up not nine minutes later to the riverside edge of the graveyard the Hollows called home. I might have brought a couple of uninvited guests, but at least I was on time.
Eric held out his hand, but I didn’t need any help. My leg felt almost like new.
Crash had definitely pulled a fast one on me and healed me. There was no other way I’d be doing this well after being shot like that. I rubbed at my leg, a tingle running down it. Yes, definitely something magic.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. Feish threw me the rope and I tied the boat up to a small tree. From there, the three of us hurried up the slope to the back side of the graveyard. The sound of training reached my ears before we crested the last of the rise. Meaning the sounds of running, grunting, and an oof or two.
Luke was the first one to see us, his young face an open book as he grinned my way. “Hey, Bree, you brought friends!”
I grinned back. “Yes. I. Did.”
He and Suzy came over and fist bumped me. See, I could be cool when I wanted.
However, others were not so cool. Sarge stalked over to us, a strange smell wafting along with him. “What the hell is this? You can’t bring them here.”
My jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”
“Feish works for Crash. She can duck right off.” No, he did not say duck, but my autocorrect fixed it for me.
“Have you lost your marbles along with your sense of humor?” I snapped. “Go chew on a bone, you oversized poodle.”
Sarge strode up to me. “You’re out.”
I blinked up at him. “What the duck?”
His eyes narrowed, his whole body vibrated, and his hands clenched like he was trying to keep from strangling me. This was not the Sarge I knew. And yet I was staring at him as he said words I couldn’t believe. “You brought enemies here, to the Hollows. That is strictly forbidden. You’re out.”
My fists shot to my hips as my own temper flared. “Are you crazy? Eric was a client. Feish is my friend. And I just got—”
Midlife Fairy Hunter: The Forty Proof Series, Book 2 Page 10