SweetlyBad

by Anya Breton

  Erica glanced between his face and the phone. “This is about you thinking he’s sabotaging me?”

  “He is sabotaging you, Erica. I have proof.”

  She swallowed down the worried lump in her throat. What if Jared was sabotaging her? Who would believe her? Almost two decades, he’d been in business. People trusted him in this town.

  “Do you want to see it?” Drew prompted with another shake of the phone.

  Erica reluctantly nodded.

  He tapped around on the device and then held it out to her. She inhaled a deep breath. And then looked down.

  The image was fuzzy as if shot in a steam room. Though it was obvious from the audio that something was happening on the small screen, she couldn’t tell what it was.

  “I…can’t tell what’s going on.”

  Drew dropped onto the sofa beside her, swiping the phone from her hand. He brought his head low and then, as if recalling he could lift the phone, brought it up to eye level. Several times he tapped, rewound, tapped and twisted the thing.

  “Shit. Fuck. The lens must have fogged up in the heat. How are we supposed to get Jared thrown in jail without proof?”

  “Jail?” Erica exclaimed and hopped to her feet. “I don’t know if making a few cars break down is jail worthy.”

  Drew shoved the phone in front of her face. “That, right there, do you hear the air compressor tool thingy? He was unfastening a bolt on your lift. He isn’t just sabotaging your work after the fact anymore. Now he’s trying to kill you!”

  Erica’s breath left her in a rapid gust. If the lift failed…a customer’s car could fall. It could crash into the garage door or worse. Someone could get seriously injured.

  “Jared wouldn’t do that.” Her voice was small despite her believing what she’d said.

  “He deleted appointments off your calendar on the computer. He took notes about old ones. He unfastened at least two bolts on the lift. Then he sabotaged your work in your customer’s driveway! Your ex is bad news, Erica.”

  “You saw him do this?”

  “Yes.”

  Erica sighed. “I don’t know what to do. The police aren’t going to run fingerprints on my tools. And even if they did, Jared would just tell them he helped me with something. They’ll believe him.”

  “Do you have security cameras in the garage?”

  She shook her head. “This is Stoddard. We’ve never needed security cameras.”

  “You do now. We’ll look for something in Keene tomorrow.”

  Earlier today she’d have shouted at him for his presumption. The thought that Jared would do something so evil as loosen bolts on her lift made Erica feel vulnerable. She’d let Drew help her with security cameras.

  Right after she checked the bolts at the shop.

  “I’m a little…on edge. I need to take a drive. It will clear my head.”

  Drew stared, waiting for her to relent and tell the truth. She was a horrible liar.

  “You should take that shower,” she said. “You look…hot.”

  His eyes narrowed. She didn’t mean he looked hot as in mouthwatering, jump-into bed-for-a-marathon-night-of-sex hot. She meant haggard like an old-bag-woman-wearing-seventeen-layers-all-caught-in-a-downpour-of-acid-rain hot.

  The prideful part of him acknowledged she was right. He did need a shower. The new, oddly protective part of him didn’t want her going out on her own.

  “Your ex sabotaged your garage while I watched. What will he do if he catches you out alone?”

  “The same thing he’s done for the past seven months—taunt me for dumping him.” She shrugged as though to say it was no big deal.

  Drew settled his weight evenly between both legs and folded his arms in front of him. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really going out?”

  Panic shot her eyes wide for a bare second before she got control of her expression. “I’m going out to clear my head. Like I—”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you suck at lying?”

  “Um—”

  The pink flush that built in her cheeks told him everything he needed to know. “Just tell me.”

  Erica’s chin came up. “I’m going to check the lift for evidence that it’s been tampered with.”

  His spine stiffened. He didn’t want to ask the next question because he feared the answer but he couldn’t stop himself. “And if it looks like it was?”

  “Then I’ll go from there.” There was a slight, flippant motion of her shoulders.

  “You’ll go from there,” he said bitterly. “You don’t believe me.”

  “All these bad things started happening when you showed up.” Erica smacked a hand over her mouth.

  The meaning of her words slowly came together. Drew stumbled a step back, flailing his arm out to stop himself from hitting the wall.

  “I see.” The words came out croaked.

  Her head sank to the right. Remorse filled her eyes.

  For what? Hadn’t she been telling the truth? Finally?

  “In that case,” he said, turning and grabbing hold of his suitcase, “I’ll leave so the bad things stop happening.”

  “Drew…”

  Drew tugged her door open, stepping through.

  She was close on his heels. “Where will you go?”

  “I’ll figure something out.” He let out a hollow laugh. “I’m sure some woman will want to help me. Even if I do look…hot.”

  It must have been exactly what she needed to hear because she didn’t stop him. No matter how much he wished she would.

  Drew started down the gravel road.

  He’d thought being stranded in a two-bar town as a rogue witch was the worst. But he’d at least had Erica’s help. Now he had nothing.

  The only thing he had going for him was that there was nothing left to lose.

  “Drew, come back,” Erica called from the front door.

  He was nowhere in sight. He couldn’t have gone far, not lugging a large suitcase. Erica darted back in, grabbing the keys he’d dropped on the side table. She paused for her purse then ran headlong for her car.

  Though he was taller than her, he hadn’t changed her mirrors or seat. Or if he had, he’d set them back before he’d gotten out. Had he been dangerous or polite?

  She twisted the key in the ignition and then backed out. There was no sign of him on the gravel road. Was he walking in the woods?

  Drew seemed like the kind of guy who would remain near the road on the off chance someone would take pity on him. But there was no doubt about it—he wasn’t on the road. She peered closely in the rearview mirror but saw no figures heading in the opposite direction either.

  Erica rolled the window down so she could try once again. “I’m sorry, Drew. Come back…or at least let me give you a ride wherever you want to go.”

  She hit the brakes, listening for an answer. There was none.

  Erica took the first block slowly, scanning the woods for a gorgeous blond. If he was out there, she should have been able to spot his suitcase moving, even in the thick shadows cast by the sinking sun. Had he disappeared into thin air?

  She shook the strange thoughts out of her head. What was it about him that made her think fanciful things?

  At the end of the rural block, Erica called out one last time. “I’m going to the garage, Drew. I hope you’ll be at my place when I get back.”

  As she rolled the window back up and pulled forward, she contemplated why she hoped he’d be there. He’d insulted her and generally been surly. The only reason he helped her make a few phone calls was because he’d hoped it would get him out of the garage earlier. And then he’d taken her car so he could investigate Jared instead of suggesting they do it together. Yes, she would have refused him. But that wasn’t the point. He was just like every other guy—just another male who thought she was a helpless female in need of coddling.

  So why in the world did she hope Drew was at her house when she got back? The sex had been adequate. Having more would
be nice. But it was more than that.

  Erica slumped in her seat.

  She was lonely. Now that he’d been in her house, she realized how much she’d missed having someone there with her. There was also the problem of her bleeding heart. She’d wanted to help him out of the bind he’d found himself in.

  Would she never learn?

  Loneliness and charity had been the reasons she got involved with Jared in the first place. They were no reason to get involved with this pretty boy.

  Even if he did own a beautiful Ferrari.

  Erica pushed down on the gas pedal, urging herself away from her house and wherever Drew was.

  * * * * *

  Erica gnawed a deep crevice in her index finger. The paint was scraped around four of the bolts on her lift post as though they’d been loosened with an air wrench. Someone had sabotaged her lift.

  Drew wouldn’t have unfastened the bolts, videoed himself doing it and then brought her the evidence. She’d known that. He probably wasn’t the drama catalyst.

  Now she needed him. And he’d disappeared.

  She paced the three garage bays in front of the Ferrari and Dodge Ram. If she called the sheriff, he’d want to see the footage Drew had taken. Or at the very least he’d want to hear from Drew as a witness.

  Erica headed into the office in search of Drew’s phone number. He’d written it on his paperwork. She’d entered it into the computer. Maybe he’d answer his precious phone.

  She tapped her feet against the floor while the ringback sounded in her ear. Drew’s voice mail replaced it. “You’ve reached Drew Haizea. I’m busy doing something far more fun than talking to you. Leave a message if you’re a hot gal, member of my family or want to give me money. Everyone else, fuck off.”

  Erica stared at the wall. How like the asshole she’d picked up off the side of the road yesterday. How unlike the guy who had stomped out of her house a half hour earlier.

  The grating beep sounded. “Drew, it’s Erica.” After listening to his recorded message, she didn’t want to speak her next words but had little choice. “You were right. Someone did sabotage my lift. I’m sorry I had to look for myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe you. It was just…” She exhaled noisily. “I like to be self-reliant so I always have to see things for myself. It’s my problem, not yours. Please call me back as soon as you get this.” Erica swallowed down a sigh. “I need your help.”

  She paced the garage, waiting for a response. Minutes passed with none.

  This was the worst—the one time she admitted she needed someone’s help, she couldn’t get any.

  Everything in her demanded she confront Jared. But this was serious. He could have hurt someone if Drew hadn’t witnessed the vandalism. And if Jared was willing to endanger her business, who was to say he wouldn’t harm her directly if she did confront him? She was all about being an independent female. But she couldn’t hold her own against Jared Berry—president of the Cheshire County gun club.

  She needed back-up the next time she saw him—backup in the form of Kevin or one of his deputies. Maybe she ought to file that restraining order she’d threatened Jared with earlier after all.

  That would be the official end of their relationship. It seemed as though he needed the closure.

  Erica eyed the scraped paint. If Jared had done that, he needed way more than closure. He needed to be thrown in jail.

  Exactly like Drew had said.

  She dialed him one more time.

  Chapter Nine

  Drew checked the name flashing on the screen of his vibrating phone. Erica Pearce. An image of her full lips parted in a gasp dominated his mind. He’d struggled with the urge to listen to her message for the past five minutes. Just as he’d struggled with the urge to step out from behind the tree when she’d called to him on the dirt road.

  He shoved the phone back in his pocket. The device vibrated against his legs, an insidious little reminder of what he’d stormed out on.

  Even though he was avoiding her, he hadn’t made himself leave her property. The Cape Cod was visible between the trunks of two large oak trees from his vantage point perched on his suitcase. This reminded him of the time Amanda told him he couldn’t take violin lessons so he’d run away from home and slept in the servants’ quarters until Ellen carried him back to his room.

  Drew flopped against the rough bark of the tree behind him. He was a grown man. Why was he acting like the eight-year-old boy he used to be?

  He closed his eyes against the answer. But it was there, echoing in his mind where he couldn’t hide from it—he’d never grown up.

  Everything had been a game for as long as he could remember. If it wasn’t fun, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with it. And Aer forbid he not get his way.

  Nothing was going his way now. Pouting in the woods wasn’t going to fix that. He’d vowed to help someone other than himself. One little comment from Erica shouldn’t have derailed him so spectacularly. But it had.

  Drew fished the phone out of his pocket. Too late. The missed call note now read two. He thumbed the button for voice mail.

  “Drew, it’s Erica. You were right. Someone did sabotage my lift. I’m sorry I had to look for myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe you. It was just…”

  Drew sat forward, waiting for the explanation.

  She sighed and then continued. “I like to be self-reliant so I always have to see things for myself. It’s my problem, not yours. Please call me back as soon as you get this.” There was a pause. “I need your help.”

  She needed his help. People didn’t need his help. They needed Aston’s or Amanda’s and used Drew to get it. But Erica needed him.

  Last week he would have chafed at the responsibility but today…now…he liked the idea of someone needing him. Or perhaps he only liked the idea of Erica needing him. Whatever the case, he was an asshole for making her wait.

  Drew filed away the first message. The second message began even as he got to his feet and hauled the suitcase toward her house.

  “It’s Erica again. I need to call the police so I can start the process for a restraining order. But I can’t do that if I don’t have you there.”

  She wanted him there?

  “You were a witness.”

  Disappointment slowed his progress. Though her reason made sense, he’d foolishly hoped she wanted him for support. But she’d already said she was self-reliant.

  “Please, Drew. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I never should have said—” Erica halted. Her volume lowered as though she’d moved the phone away from her mouth. “What…” And then it increased. “I’m sorry. We’re closed for the weekend.”

  There was a pause and then Erica said, “I’m sorry but I can’t hear you.”

  “That’s my Ferrari,” a female shouted—a sound muffled by what Drew assumed was the garage door.

  His grip tightened on the suitcase’s handle.

  “What the hell?” Erica muttered. Louder she asked, “It is?”

  “It was stolen yesterday,” the female replied. “Who brought it in here?”

  Don’t tell her, Drew silently chanted. He didn’t recognize the voice but whoever she was, she was up to no good. The Ferrari was his. Erica knew it was because she’d verified it with the dealer in Boston. Would she be smart? Or had her apologies been bullshit?

  “Have you called the police?” Erica asked.

  She’d been smart. Drew relaxed his grip on the phone.

  “Yes,” the woman said. “But they’ve been no help finding it. I tracked it here using GPS.”

  Was that true? He knew nothing about GPS beyond entering an address and following the arrows. If his car was traceable then maybe that’s how Steven Brand had found him. And if Steven had…

  Fear spiked through Drew’s chest.

  Still Erica’s voice mail message went on. “Come back with the police and proof of ownership and I’d be happy to give you the car once the bill is settled. We won’t open again until Monday
at seven.”

  Footsteps scuffed the concrete floor. The door thudded shut. And then Erica whispered into the phone, “I don’t know who that was but she claims she owns your Ferrari. I really wish you’d answer your phone.” Air puffed against the phone—another sigh. “This really sucks. I don’t like needing anyone. But I need you. And you’re not here. I know there’s phone service at my house and all the way down the hill so—” She snorted. “God, now I sound like a nagging wife. I’m going to just hang—”

  Metal slammed against metal. Erica gasped. And then someone else spoke into the phone.

  “I have your car and your mechanic, rogue,” the unknown female said. “I’ll destroy one of those if you don’t turn up in the next half hour. Time’s a tickin’.”

  Drew froze where he was, listening for more clues.

  “To save this message, press one.”

  He nearly threw his phone again. Who was at Erica’s garage? The strange female knew he’d been designated as a rogue witch—that made her a member of one of the Underground factions. And that made her more dangerous than a vanilla human.

  It was a trap, that much he knew. Whoever waited at the garage wanted to kill him. Would she risk the secret of the Underground by harming Erica? He doubted it.

  But that could be wishful thinking on his part.

  Drew tugged at his collar, hating that he’d been placed in this situation. By saving his own neck, he would potentially put Erica in harm’s way. She’d been nothing but helpful. She didn’t deserve to be attacked.

  On the other hand, this wasn’t the first threat since he’d been designated rogue. It might not be the last. If he left now like he’d planned to, Erica wouldn’t be in further danger.