by Jane Jamison
“None of this is making any sense.” Morgan had stopped drinking, focused on the discussion.
“No, it doesn’t.” Damian hated not having any answers. “Benedict checked with Cathy, thinking she might have hexed the man to get back at Brooklyn’s interference, but the witch swears she didn’t. He believes her, and so does Miranda.”
“Then there’s not much we can do about it.” Samuel shot him a look. “Except keep our eyes and ears open.”
“And stay as close to Brooklyn as we can,” added Damian.
“Staying close to Brooklyn? Now that’s something I can drink to.” Morgan lifted his bottle and downed the rest of his drink.
* * * *
As far as Brooklyn was concerned, she was home. Every time she stepped foot into the pretty little cottage she’d rented, she could relax and let go. Today was no different. After the man had threatened her with a knife, she’d gone home as Miranda had suggested and tried to put it out of her mind. Instead, she’d done nothing except dwell on it. Strangely, she’d still wanted to be alone, even when Reagan had called and checked on her, repeatedly asking her to meet her for a drink. She’d finally gotten her friend to back off if she promised to come out to the ranch in the morning. True to her promise, she’d drive out to the Crooked Trails Ranch.
Too many things had happened since she’d arrived back on the island. Some bad and one very good thing. One very, very good thing.
The place was quiet, almost serene. Butterflies fitted across the yard, and the sound of a horse’s nicker was like laughter. The cool breeze coming in from the ocean flowed over her. She drew in a slow breath, once more certain she’d made the right decision by coming back to West End.
They want me.
The thought alone was enough to send a tingle through her. Her fantasy was going to come true, after all.
“It’s about time you got here.”
Brooklyn was almost sorry when Reagan bounded down the front steps and enveloped her in a hug. Vaguely, she wondered if werebears could hug harder than a werewolf, but she had no plans to find out.
“Let me look at you.” Reagan held her at arm’s length and studied her. “You don’t look any worse for wear considering you’ve tangled with a faerie, a witch, and a crazy tourist in such a short time.”
“Like I told you on the phone, I’m fine.”
“Then why didn’t you want to come out last night? To the bar or here?”
Brooklyn didn’t know exactly how to explain it. “I don’t know. I just felt like hunkering down in my own space and thinking.”
“This ranch is your own space. You know that, right?”
It meant the world to Brooklyn that her friend said so. “I know. And I love it here. You know I do. It’s just, after what happened with the guys…”
Reagan hooked an arm through hers. “Yeah, so tell me. I hear they’ve finally grown some balls and told you how they feel.”
Of course, that was the way Reagan would phrase it. Had they told her about her own declaration? Did Reagan know the whole story? “And what else did they tell you?”
Reagan cast her a sly look. “They didn’t say much. They’re pretty tight-lipped when it comes to women.”
Women? An ache struck Brooklyn in the chest. Had they talked about other women?
“Hey, don’t go getting down. They’re gentlemen. Trust me. You’re different, special. Damn it, girl, you’re the one for them.”
“Did they say so?” Hearing that the men had told Reagan about their feelings would make the feeling more real. Even now, she had trouble believing everything they’d said and done hadn’t been a beautiful dream that would leave her waking up in a cold and lonely bed.
“They didn’t have to. I know them as well as I know you. They were the happiest I’ve ever seen them when they came home after seeing you.”
“Are they around?”
“Nope. They’re out doing chores. Morgan’s rounding up strays, Samuel’s off meeting with some other wizard doing wizardly things, and Damian’s at the winery, checking on the first bottles of Crooked Trails Cabernet shipping out to stores on the mainland.”
Brooklyn was proud of the men. Most people had a difficult time owning and running one business, let alone two. She couldn’t wait to try the new wine. Still, she was disappointed that she wouldn’t see them. Unless, of course, she hung around all day.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
She blinked, thrown. “I’m sure. Why do you keep asking?”
“Maybe it’s the lovesick expression,” teased Reagan. “Come inside. We’ll open a bottle and toast our future sister-in-law status.”
“That would be great, but you’re already my sister.”
“You bet I am.” Reagan led the way into the house and grabbed a bottle out of the wine rack. “Get a couple of glasses, will you?”
Soon enough, they settled on the couch, legs pulled up under them and took their first sip.
“Hmm, good stuff.”
Reagan held her glass up to the light. “It is, but the new line is even better. Hopefully, Damian will bring a few bottles home with him tonight.”
Brooklyn was dying to ask more questions but sensed Reagan wanted to talk about something other than her brother and his friends. “So did you go to the bar without me?”
Reagan suspiciously kept her attention on her drink. “I did.”
“By yourself?” Not that she’d be jealous of Reagan going out with other friends.
“I went alone.”
Brooklyn’s curiosity piqued. “But you didn’t leave alone?”
Reagan might be a freewheeling person when it came to most of life, but sexually speaking, she was more conservative. “I left alone.”
“Oh,” said Brooklyn, disappointed.
“Don’t go feeling sorry for me too much. I wasn’t alone while I was there.”
“Oh?” Her interest heightened more. “Tell me.”
Reagan took a long drink as though trying to fortify herself to answer. “I was with a man.”
“Really? And who was this man?”
Reagan checked around the room. “Well, since the guys aren’t here, I’ll tell you. But, Brooklyn, you’ve got to keep this quiet.”
“Reagan, what did you do?”
Reagan bit her lower lip. “I was with a wizard.”
“A wizard?” A female werewolf alone with a wizard was an unusual occurrence in West End. For the most part, female werewolves stuck close to those they knew, especially the male werewolves who might be potential mates. “And?”
“And it was nice.”
“Uh-uh. You don’t get to shut down on me now.” Brooklyn set her glass on the table and edged closer. “Does this wizard know Samuel? Does he know Damian or Morgan?”
A look crossed over her friend’s face, a look Brooklyn had seen before. She’d often wondered if Reagan had a crush on Damian, but every time she’d asked, Reagan had emphatically denied it.
“No. He came over from Seattle.” Sadness fell over her face. “Although he kind of reminds me of Damian.”
“Really? A wizard being a tourist? That’s one I’ve never heard.”
“Yeah, well, he also had some business over here. The point is that we hit it off.”
“And?” Brooklyn drew out the word, coaxing her to continue.
“And nothing as dirty as what you’re thinking. We danced and talked. That’s it.”
“Oh.” Again, disappointed. Now that her dream of love had finally come through, she wanted the same for her best friend. “I’ll bet you had fun.”
“I did. Until Thornton showed up.”
“Thornton Denton the wizard?”
“Do you know another Thornton around these parts?”
She didn’t know him well but she’d heard enough bad things about him that she didn’t want to know him any better. Rumors said he was one of the wizards who’d given himself over to the Dark Side of magic. “Why? What did he do?”
�
��He nodded at the guy I was with.”
Brooklyn stalled, sure there had to be more to the story. “He nodded? That’s all?”
Reagan topped off both their glasses. “I know what you’re thinking, but it was the way he nodded. Like he knew him.”
“And your guy nodded back at him? Like he knew him?”
“First of all, he’s not my guy. I’d just met him, but yeah.” Reagan took a healthy drink. “That’s the part that bothers me.”
Brooklyn understood completely. She’d hate the idea of any of her men being friends with the crafty wizard. Still, the two wizards hadn’t even talked. “It was only a nod. It doesn’t mean he knew Thornton. He could’ve just been saying hello.”
“I know. But again, it was the way—”
“The way he nodded. Like they definitely recognized each other. Got it. So, did you ask him if he knew Thornton? And if so, did you ask him how he knew Thornton?”
“No. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to find out. I was having too good a time to let anything ruin it. Especially someone like Thornton.”
“So what now? Are you seeing him tonight? What’s his name anyway?”
“It’s Craig. I wish, but he already took the ferry back to Seattle.” Reagan stared into her drink.
“Oh.” Why did she get the feeling her friend was lying to her?
“You sure say oh a lot.”
Brooklyn knew Reagan’s irritation wasn’t meant for her. Her friend was disappointed and had a right to be. She shouldn’t doubt her word. “Maybe he’ll come back another day.”
“Maybe.”
She could see Reagan shake off her bad mood, forcing her sadness away with a pitiful smile. “Now back to you and the guys. So have you done it yet?”
“I’m not telling.” She changed the direction of the conversation before Reagan could push her. “Don’t give up on seeing that guy Craig again, okay?”
“Why? Do you know something I don’t?”
“Nope.” She smiled, trying to comfort her friend. “I just have a feeling.”
“Riiight. You fall in love and, all of a sudden, you develop psychic powers.”
“Not psychic.” Brooklyn shrugged. “Just intuition borne out of love. Besides, stranger things have happened in West End.”
“True enough.” Yet the conviction wasn’t in Reagan’s voice.
“Fine, don’t take me seriously. But whatever happens, promise me you’ll be careful. From what I’ve heard, any time Thornton’s involved—and I’m not saying he is—something bad happens.”
Chapter Five
At least nothing strange happened today. No witch-faerie arguments. No crazy tourist attacks.
Brooklyn let out a sigh of relief and took off her apron before picking up her keys off the pegboard in the small employee break area of the diner. As soon as she could, she’d get home, clean up, and then head out to the ranch. If she was lucky, she’d catch the men by surprise with the casserole she’d made for dinner.
“Bitch, you cheated me.”
Her heart plummeted to the floor. No. Please. Not him again.
She turned just in time to see the crazy tourist, Randall Cartlidge, snatch up a knife and lunge at her. The knife grazed her arm as she darted to the side.
“Give me my money.” His face was a mask of fury, almost inhuman in its ugliness.
“I didn’t cheat you.” She backed up until her back was against the counter where the pots and pans hung from pegs. “Help!”
It was close to closing time, but there were still a few customers lingering over their last bite. One of them was the sheriff. If Miranda didn’t hear her, then maybe he would.
“You cheated me.” He lunged at her again.
This time she was ready. Reaching behind her, she found the big cast iron frying pan. Sidestepping his advance, she swung as hard as she could. The resounding thud of the pan against his head sickened her, but relief came on its heels. He stared at her for far too long before, slowly, he crumpled to the floor.
“Him again?”
Brooklyn gripped the pan to her chest as Miranda, followed by the sheriff and her men, dashed into the small room. “I know, right?”
Damian took the pan from her hands. “You’re bleeding.”
Leave it to the vampire to notice.
“It’s only a flesh wound.” Surprisingly, she wasn’t frightened. “Don’t go getting any ideas, vampire. I made a casserole for dinner.”
For a moment, she wasn’t sure he’d understood her joke. Finally, a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “As long as you’re dessert, then I’m good,” he whispered.
Sheriff Benedict knelt over the unconscious man. “He tried to attack you again?”
“And I still don’t know why. I didn’t cheat him. Hell, I haven’t done anything to him.” She winced. “Until now.”
“I’ll call the doc,” said Samuel. “Unless you’d rather I help him?”
The sheriff shrugged. “Yeah, go ahead. Do what you can. Wake him up and I’ll haul him off to jail.”
Samuel bent down, moving the sheriff out of the way. Brooklyn let Damian ease her away, thankful to be supported by Damian and Morgan. “I hope I didn’t hurt him too badly. When I saw him coming at me, I just reacted.”
“You sure gave him a hit. We heard it all the way into the diner.” Morgan grinned, but the grin soon faded into a scowl. “He’s lucky I wasn’t the one whacking him over the head with a frying pan.”
“But why is he doing this to me?” She searched Miranda. “You do believe me, don’t you? I would never cheat a customer. I’d never cheat anyone.”
“Sure I do, honey.”
Samuel was mumbling a chant under his breath. Brooklyn couldn’t make out the words, but more than likely, she wouldn’t have known what they meant anyway. He often used the Old Language whenever using his natural magic.
Soon enough, the man stirred, his eyes popping open as he let out a cry. “You cheated me!”
“The man’s definitely been spelled,” offered Damian.
“Or compelled,” added the sheriff.
“Either way, get him out of here.” Miranda waved her arm dismissively. “And keep him locked up until the ferry comes. I don’t think we want to press any charges, do we?”
Brooklyn shook her head. Most of the town’s justice dealt with supernaturals. To bring a human to trial, especially a tourist, could bring up secrets no one wanted to reveal. It was easier to simply escort disruptive tourists back to the mainland.
“Come on, fella, I’ve got a nice hard cot with your name on it.” Sheriff Benedict pulled the man to his feet. “Brooklyn, are you sure you can’t think of any reason he’d want to hurt you?” He glanced at the others. “Or anyone?”
“You’re thinking someone spelled him to do their dirty work. Is that it?”
Brooklyn stared at Damian, all of a sudden certain he was right. “I haven’t done anything wrong to anyone. Who’d want to hurt me?”
“I don’t know.”
“There’s a way to find out.”
“What do you have in mind, Damian?” She’d do anything to learn the truth behind the attacks.
“I could compel you to tell me everything you know.” His silver eyes bore into her. “Things you can’t remember.”
He wanted to compel her. The idea was frightening. She trusted him with her life, but was it worth risking compulsion?
“Nah, that won’t do any good.” Sheriff Benedict got a better grip on his tourist-turned-prisoner.
“Why not?” Damian fixed his gaze on the sheriff, irritation lacing his tone.
“Because of your relationship.”
“I don’t understand.” Although she didn’t like the idea of being compelled—who knew what she might say?—they needed answers. She needed answers.
“Sure you do. The entire town knows about you four.” He smirked, apparently doing his best not to chuckle. “Hell, I think everyone knew what would go down as soon as you go
t back into town, Brooklyn. But that’s the problem. You’re too close for us to trust whatever information Damian might get out of you. Plus, who knows what other secrets you might reveal? No, I’ve never been a fan of compulsion, and I’m still not. Give me time to question this guy. If he ever comes out of this trance he’s in.”
“Fine, if you want to do things the hard way.” Damian pulled her closer. “Until you do, Brooklyn’s staying with us.”
“Yeah,” added Morgan. “Good idea.”
Samuel nodded, agreeing. “It’s where she belongs anyway. We’ll feel better knowing she’s safe.”
“That’s up her. For now, I’ll get him settled. We’ll talk again tomorrow.” Sheriff Benedict was the only reason the man stayed on his feet as the sheriff led him away.
“Guys, it’s really sweet of you, but I’ll be fine at my place. The sheriff’s locking him up.” She’d said what she should, but it wasn’t how she’d wanted to answer. If she’d done what she’d wanted, she would’ve shouted and hugged each of them.
“Bullshit, Brookie, what’s the difference? You move in with us now or you move in with us later.” Morgan shrugged. “The end result is the same.”
“Oh, really?” She liked the werewolf’s aggressiveness along with Samuel’s steady hand and Damian’s reserved nature. The three of them made her feel safe. “So you’re not asking? You’re telling?”
Samuel jumped in. “No, he’s not. But he’s right. You belong with us, if only for now to keep you safe. Once that guy’s on a ferry out of town—”
“And we figure out who spelled him,” interjected Damian.
Samuel acknowledged the truth of Damian’s words with a tilt of his head. “Once he’s out of the way and we know you’re safe, we can focus on the why of his actions. Maybe he’s really mental or maybe it’s more, someone sending the poor guy to do his or her dirty work.”
“I told you. I don’t have any enemies.” She searched her memory and once again, came up empty.
“Could be a prank. But whatever, it has to be stopped.” Morgan took her hand in his massive one and turned toward the diner. “Let’s get you home.”