by Anna Abner
“Mmm.” He smiled back. “I don’t know about that. Seems she could have tried a little harder.”
* * *
The Jeep pulled into a parking spot near their rooms at the Comfort Inn in Richmond, and Holden got out, stretching and popping his back.
“I’ll be right there,” Rebecca called, remaining in the vehicle. “I want to call my sister.”
She dialed, and this time Nelly answered on the first ring. “Sissy?”
“I saw Mom,” Becca blurted.
“Oh my God. How was she? Are you okay?”
“Let’s never speak of her again.”
“Deal,” Nelly decreed. “So, did you take him?”
“Take who?”
“Your boy toy.”
“I took Holden if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’ll bet you did.” Nelly giggled. “You naughty girl.”
Rebecca laughed, and it felt strangely freeing. “Hilarious.”
“So,” Nelly said, turning serious, “Can you forget about her and be happy now?”
Becca’s eyes tracked Holden’s progress through the stairwell and across the second-floor walkway. “I’m going to try.”
She hung up the phone and followed Holden upstairs.
“Do you feel better about her?” he asked.
“My mother?” Better wasn’t the word Rebecca would use. Relieved. Surprised. Disappointed. “I had built her up in my mind into something else.” She tossed her purse onto the bed.
Holden hung her dry cleaning in the closet and set her overnight bag on the luggage sling. She paused to enjoy the way his shoulders bunched beneath his shirt and the way he moved with easy confidence. Memories from the night before crept into her thoughts, and her breath quickened.
“Thank you,” she said, referring to more than her luggage.
Holden glanced up, his brow creasing at the husky tone of her voice. His eyes turned smoky.
“I want to touch you.” She took a step in his direction. Then another. “You’re all I can think about.” The thought of running her hands up his bare forearms and the gentle friction it would cause sent sparks of awareness across her skin.
He stared at her with such raw desire in his eyes that it was really hard to concentrate, but he made no move to touch her.
“Rebecca, Jesus.” He groaned. “I wish to God there was a way I could make this work, but…”
She rocked on her heels. Then it hit her like a bucket of cold water. Grams. “She’s in me, isn’t she?” Becca really fucking hated that necromancer. Hated him. Like loathed.
“Sort of surrounding.” He cupped his hands in the air. “But yeah.”
“That may be the worst news I’ve ever heard.”
He linked his fingers together over his button fly. “You have no idea.”
“The second—” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger straight at his heart. “—we break this spell, you’re mine, Holden Clark.” Oh, the things she’d do to him. He liked giving orders in the bedroom? Wait until he had to take them.
“I’m yours,” he agreed.
“Well, if I can’t have you,” she said, surrendering, “I’m going to take a shower.” A really long, really hot shower. “Good night.”
And as she stood under the pulsating spray, steam heavy and full around her, it wasn’t sex she thought about, but their visit to Virginia. Holden was right about her mother. She’d spent her whole life trying to be Nancy Ann Powell, the perfect woman. When Nancy Ann couldn’t even live up to that standard.
Becca didn’t want any hurtful ties to the past remaining. Turning her face into the warm water, she decided she would let go of the pain. Not all at once. She didn’t know how to do that. But flake by flake, she’d chip away at those emotions and start fresh, her life a blank page spread out before her.
By the time Becca emerged from the bathroom, her hair dry and her skin slick with scented lotion, the sun had set, and Holden had retired to his adjoining room. But he’d left her bedside lamp on so she wouldn’t have to cross the unfamiliar room in the dark. And that small kindness meant more to her than any grand gestures or passionate declarations.
Quickly, she threw on plaid pajama bottoms and her Donald Duck T-shirt and tiptoed through the connecting doors.
His room was dark and silent except for the soft, steady breathing coming from the rumpled bed. She put one hand on the mattress. Sensing her there, he opened his very blue eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She chewed on her lip for a moment, uncertain for the first time how to express herself. He’d supported her in front of her mother and cared for her and awakened her to a possible future where her happiness was not only her own priority but his, too. How did she express how thankful she was that she’d met him and Buster in that parking lot?
Nelly’s words popped into her head, and Becca blurted, “My sister thinks you’re in love with me.”
He exhaled slowly and then peeled back the sheets. “Is that a problem?”
Becca slid into bed beside him, and he wrapped her in his warm, solid embrace.
“No.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Order breakfast from room service,” Holden told Rebecca as he yanked on jeans over a pair of boxers. “Whatever you like. I’m going to call Dani. Maybe there’s another spell she can cast.” He wandered through the connecting doors and dialed the witch’s cell phone.
It rang and rang, and then finally a robotic message announced the voicemail was full. “That’s weird,” Holden grumbled, finding another number in his contacts list. It was Saturday morning, but people needed childcare on the weekends, too, didn’t they? He called her work.
“Hello, Happy Trails Child Care. How can I help you?”
“Dani Ferraro, please.”
There was a long pause. “Is this the parent of a child in her class?”
“No. Uh. I’m a friend. I can’t reach her on her cell phone.”
Another long pause, and then the woman dropped her voice to a whisper. “Dani’s missing.”
His stomach plummeted. “What?”
“No one’s seen her since Thursday night. We reported her missing to the police. Have you heard from her? Seen her?”
“No.” He thought back, but his mind was suddenly fuzzy. Missing? “I talked to her Thursday.”
“It’s so freaking sad.” She sniffed. “Miss Georgie is taking all Miss Dani’s calls today. Can I transfer you?”
“No thanks.” He hung up.
Rebecca walked into the room, and when she saw his face, her smile disappeared. “What’s wrong?”
“Dani’s missing.” Holden powered on his laptop and searched for Daniela Ferraro. Up popped a missing poster with her photo and physical description on it. It was the most depressing thing he’d seen in a long time.
“No!” Rebecca plopped onto the bed. “Oh my God. How?”
“I don’t know.” He clicked to a different site. Dani had last been seen leaving work in Springfield, North Carolina on Thursday night. She never made it home, but disappeared somewhere between Happy Trails Child Care Center and her apartment on Williams Street. The police were investigating every lead. There was an 800 number.
“Is it because of me?” Becca asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You mean it might be?” Her voice cracked.
“I don’t know.”
* * *
The whole day had been quiet and tense and spent alternating laptops, search engines, and cell phones. Becca tracked down Carlton Reeves and discovered he’d passed away four months ago.
No news about Dani. No news about the necromancer or his summoning spell. Another day gone and they were no closer to stopping the possession before it hit. Their only, and final, plan was casino night.
Rebecca checked the time on her phone. Saturday. 8:05 p.m.
The Auburn Chamber of Commerce fundraiser would be starting about now, but it would be okay if they arrived a lit
tle late.
“Will there really be three hundred people there tonight?” Holden’s voice carried from the main living space into the bathroom where Rebecca was finishing her hair.
Chamber of Commerce events were always crowded, loud, and a great chance to network. But the crush of people and the hundreds of business cards exchanging sweaty hands probably wasn’t Holden’s fantasy.
She poked her head out, warm, perfume-laced air curling around her body. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right beside you.” She returned to the mirror, her flat iron, and a can of hair spray.
“Good.” Nodding, he unzipped his rented tux from its plastic garment bag.
When she reappeared, Holden was dressed in black slacks. And nothing else.
He looked good anytime, but he looked really good in that suit with his hair still damp and tousled and his face cleanly shaven.
She’d had relationships before, even one or two fairly serious, but she’d never lived with a man. She’d never gotten ready for an event with a man. There was something so pleasantly intimate about sharing the same space with him.
She stood in the doorway listening to the quiet sounds of him pulling on a freshly laundered undershirt. A crisp white button-down slid over his bare arms. Dazed, she watched him tying his shoes and was turned on. By tying shoes.
Rebecca stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed, except for her heels, in her fabulous, form-fitting red cocktail dress. Holden paused in pulling on his heavy tuxedo jacket and stared. She was used to men sizing her up. But for some reason when this man examined her—like that—she flushed pink under her face powder and spun away.
“Quit staring at me like that. You’re making me nervous.”
“I’m making you nervous?” He guffawed. “Geez, darling. I’m light-headed.”
She blushed even deeper, her whole body overheating. If he didn’t quit, she’d have to redo her makeup.
He cleared his throat and pivoted to fix his bow tie in front of the mirror, a self-satisfied smile on his face. “Tell me again who will be there.”
Game time. Focus. And not on the tall, sexy man flashing flirty eyes at her in the mirror. “Everyone I do business with. No biggie.”
“Will Derek be there?”
“Is he a suspect?”
“Hell yes he is. You’re basically firing him at the end of the month and leaving him high and dry.”
She shook her head. “He has a new job lined up.”
“He must hate your guts.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. She knew Derek very well. He was no magical mastermind. If he was, wouldn’t he have used some to pass the real estate licensing exam? “All my former employees will probably be there. A lot of people I work with. Tailors, hair stylists, flooring installers, restaurant owners—”
“Okay, okay. Our plan is you shake hands with absolutely everyone.”
“I’m on it.”
“Ready?” Holden gave her another heated once-over and then offered his elbow like a true southern gentleman. Rebecca stepped into her heels and took his arm so he could lead her downstairs into the parking garage. She rested her head on his shoulder, inhaling his earthy scent. When it was time to get into the Jeep, she didn’t want to let go, and she lingered on his arm.
He tilted up her chin with one crooked finger and kissed her gently, and the warmth of his mouth distracted her from the zillion nervous thoughts bubbling up.
“You can do this,” Holden whispered.
If she could face her mother, she could do anything.
They climbed into the Jeep and headed south. Holden parked beneath the Westin Hotel in a crowded subterranean garage. Hopping out, he rounded the hood to assist her down and then caught sight of her spiky stilettos.
“I hope you can hike in those.”
He held out a hand, and a tickling warmth temporarily overrode her anxiety. Rebecca hardly put weight on her toes before he swept her into his arms.
“Oh,” she gasped. “You don’t have to. I can walk.”
“You’re going to be on your feet all night.” He carried her toward the bank of elevators. “I don’t want you wearing out before we find this creep.”
* * *
The ballroom of the Westin Hotel was cavernous, and yet so many people were packed in that Holden felt crushed the moment he entered the room. Business cards flew from palm to palm, men shook beefy hands, and women cackled over tall champagne flutes. The reigning Miss City of Auburn and her royal court preened in ball gowns as they sold raffle tickets by the indoor waterfall.
Holden may as well be living inside a nightmare.
Standing beside Rebecca would have helped quell the panic, but it was his bright idea to separate and cover more ground. She would wade through the business owners, shaking hands, and he would circle the room looking for spell marks.
“Ned,” he hissed. The man flickered beside him. “Do you see anything?”
Because Holden didn’t see crap. The only spell marks in the room, as far as he could see, were on Rebecca.
“Nothing yet. I’ll fan out. Be right back.”
Alone again. Stuck in a noisy crowd but alone. Isolation felt different tonight, though. Grams’s absence stung, but it hadn’t destroyed him. If anything, clarity had hit him upside the head.
His remodeling work made him happy. His diner had the possibility of making him happy. Once Holden accepted the fact that he would never be his grandpa, he would run the hell out of that restaurant.
And Rebecca Powell made him happy.
“I don’t see a thing,” Ned said, popping back into his periphery. “You?”
“No.” Frustration wasn’t a big enough word for this situation. He had to find this son of a bitch. Now. Because he didn’t know where to go tomorrow if this party didn’t produce a big fricking lead.
Holden caught sight of a little girl with black pigtails half a dozen feet away near the cash bar. It was the same little girl he’d seen at Happy Trails. He elbowed nearer, but by the time he got to the bar, she’d disappeared.
* * *
The Prince had to admit he looked damn fine in his rented Ralph Lauren tuxedo. And people noticed. He enjoyed their attention, relaxing several notches after the crazy stress of the last few months. His possession spell was 90 percent finished, and soon he’d have more power than the people crammed into this room could imagine.
He sipped his rum and Coke and steered across the crowded ballroom toward Miss High and Mighty herself, Rebecca Powell. She looked awful: pale and a little gray around the eyes. And the demon tapping on her shoulder was so crystal clear that he could see its red eyes and white fangs.
God, he’d done an amazing job. With almost no experience and only one or two helpful spirits backing him up, he’d really done it. By this time tomorrow night he’d have a demon on a leash.
* * *
Derek handed Becca a champagne flute, his fingers brushing hers and startling her out of an anxious daydream. She smiled warmly as she accepted the bubbly drink.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said from behind his glass. “The mayor was asking about you.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” In ten years Rebecca had never missed a chance to network, make contacts, and meet important people. Though she hadn’t sponsored a table this year, she could still connect with her friends and clients.
“You haven’t been yourself this week.”
That was very true. Rebecca wasn’t herself. She felt fundamentally changed. And it wasn’t just the demon possession spell. Everything felt different.
Someone touched her bare back with a hand. “Becky Powell?”
She turned to find Charley McGovern standing behind her.
“Don’t you look cute,” Charley jeered. “Your face healed nicely.”
“Thanks for reminding me. I owe you one.”
“I just wanted to remind you,” she hissed, bending close, “the Ray House on River Road is mine. The owners gave me a verbal contrac
t.” She flashed her thousand-watt smile, the one on all her billboards. “So no more mailers. I’m sure you understand.”
Charley wanted Becca to stop advertising to the owners just in case they liked Becca more than this barracuda in Prada heels. They both knew a verbal contract meant nothing.
Especially when it came to the Holy Grail—the highest priced home in the area—a to-die-for six--bedroom, three story Colonial on the banks of Wilson Bay. The Ray House had been remodeled with every conceivable upgrade. It was a real estate agent’s wet dream. To represent the Ray House, Becca would commute two hours from Raleigh to Auburn.
“Bless your heart,” Rebecca sneered. “Don’t you know I always play fair?”
Charley didn’t need to know Becca’s priorities were evolving or that she didn’t care about scrabbling for contracts anymore or arguing over who advertised to which neighborhoods. It was too much fun messing with the woman.
“And so do I.” Charley flitted away, waving to someone across the room.
Becca wobbled on her heels, and her handbag slipped. Derek was there like a good number two and pressed it under Becca’s arm. “She’s such a shark,” he said, nodding at the woman’s back. “God, I hate her.”
“She wants us to back off the Ray House.”
He snorted. “I can’t believe you’re making me work with her.”
“I can’t stay in Auburn forever. I have to think—”
“Rebecca, I know. I’m teasing.” With a playful gleam in his eye, he took a sip of champagne. “What do I care that I gave you five years of my life, and now I get to be that bitch’s coffee gofer?”
“Derek.”
As if she hadn’t spoken, he said, “I’ll go to the bar and schmooze the deputy mayor.” He winked. “You know how fond she is of us professional boys.” He sauntered away, disappearing in the crowd, one dark suit in a sea of them.
“Hey, baby girl!” Kristin clapped Rebecca in a quick, tight embrace. “You made it!”
“Yes, of course.”
“Honey, you have something on your—” Kristin pointed at Becca’s throat. “Oh God. Are those bite marks?”