Jennifer came over, frowning. “Is this a contest?”
“Kind of.” Kera tried to mask her nervousness with a smile. “We’re going to see who picks the number closest to yours. Let’s start off with this gentleman.” She pointed at Ted. “Number?”
He cleared his throat. “Forty-nine.”
She gestured at Christian next.
“We’ll go with fifty.”
Kera shook her head in mild disappointment and crossed her arms. “You two are playing it safe, I see.”
“Well, sure.” Ted looked at her owlishly. “You should have gone first. Now you…hmm.”
Kera smiled. Unlike the other two, she didn’t need to play it safe; she knew Jennifer. She pulled over a napkin and wrote down a number before folding it up and putting one finger on it. Then she turned to her co-worker. “Okay, Jenn, what’s your pick?”
The brunette smirked. “Sixty-nine.” She stuck out her tongue. “Had to liven your game up a little bit, didn’t I?”
“So, what was yours?” Ted asked Kera, gesturing at the paper.
Kera slid it over to Christian. “Open it.”
Christian did so and groaned. “Sixty-nine.”
Kera grinned. “I guessed you two were going to play it safe. Meanwhile, I know Jenn, whose head is always in the goddamned gutter.”
“I heard that,” Jennifer said as she navigated behind Kera with a tray.
“It’s true,” Kera pointed out. She turned back to the two men. “Anyway, since you two accepted the terms, I win. I get to choose who asks someone out next. And I choose…”
Both men had priceless expressions on their faces.
“Myself,” Kera said before she could chicken out.
Both men looked as though their brains were restarting, which made her feel a little better. She was pretty sure her stomach had just attempted to do a full somersault.
“So, Christian,” she asked, “want to go out with me?”
She had just enough time to think she’d horribly misjudged the situation before Christian gulped, then stuttered, “Um, y-yes?” He shook his head. “Wait, that sounded like a question. Definitely a yes, but will you let me pay?”
She gave him a smile disguised as a cynical squint. “I’m the one who asked you out,” she observed.
“Okay, how about Dutch?”
Kera grinned. “Dutch it is. Shake on it.” She extended her hand.
Christian took it and sealed the deal while Ted’s jaw went slack.
Before he could say anything, Kera saw Jennifer make a gesture. “Sorry, duty calls.” She gave Christian a smile and slid away, silently congratulating herself.
Hopefully that meant she had used up her nervous energy and wouldn’t do something stupid when it came to the asshole in the corner.
It only felt like a few minutes before she saw it was almost 2. She straightened up from clearing a table. “Last call!”
At least her voice was steady.
At the bar, Christian and Ted had sunk into silence.
Finally, Ted nudged Christian with an elbow. “You did it.”
“Uh-huh.” Christian looked at him and tried to figure out if he should say he hadn’t done it.
“No offense,” Ted said, “but…”
“She’s out of my league?”
“Not that. I, uh, I didn’t think you were going to pull it off.” Ted tipped his glass up to get the last of his beer. “I have yet to see if you’re going to need me. I should know soon.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll see,” Ted said.
It was only a couple of minutes before Kera stopped by, just as Chris was putting down the cash for their tab.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll be back next week to set up a date and time?” he asked Kera.
“Sure.” She hesitated. “I only work Monday through Friday, though.”
“Oh. Right. Uh, we could…stay in touch?” Chris patted himself, longing for a pen or a piece of paper, only to see a business card appear next to his face with his cell phone number written on the back.
“I figured you wouldn’t remember,” Ted said. He sounded deeply pleased. “Hey, look at that! I was useful.” He handed the card to Kera.
Kera looked as if she was trying not to laugh.
“Thanks for blowing my cover, man,” Christian grumbled.
“Mmm.” Kera smiled at him. “This is nice, but Chris?”
“Yes?” His stomach clenched. Had he done something wrong?
Kera’s lips twisted in a subtly mischievous smile. “Don’t you remember that I still have your cell from our study dates?”
Ted threw up his arms, sputtering in disbelief, then slapped his friend on the arm. “She has your number already?”
Kera nodded. “Mmhmm. And he has mine. I’ll see you soon, Christian.”
“Yeah.” Christian couldn’t keep from grinning at her as he helped Ted out of the bar. His friend had been more careful this time, but he still wasn’t sober by a long shot.
Just sober enough to wait until the door closed behind them to punch him on the arm again. “You could have called her this whole time!”
Christian grinned and held a hand out to keep his friend from tripping. He felt like he was walking on air. He couldn’t help but think things were better this way. If he’d just texted her randomly, he didn’t think she would have responded well.
“It was you, Ted,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t have said hello to her if it hadn’t been for you.”
Ted paused to consider that drunkenly, then nodded. “I know that,” he said with great dignity. “I was just making sure you did.”
“Uh-huh. Let’s get you home, buddy.”
Back in the bar, Jennifer finished closing down and cleaning up while Kera did a quick visual scan of the floor. Stephanie had left an hour ago.
Only one person still sat at a booth—and unfortunately, his presence ruined Kera’s hopes of not having a confrontation tonight. She made sure to keep moving as she ran through her options. She was annoyed, on top of everything else, that she was focusing on this when all she wanted to do was do air-punches at the sky about getting the balls to ask Chris out.
Call the police, she told herself as she swept a few imaginary specks of dust off a table.
But they weren’t going to help. They had been outmatched all week by what was going on in Little Tokyo. If this guy wasn’t long gone by the time they got here, they’d be on the losing end of a fight.
She was delaying. You have some power, she told herself, and not winning against this guy once doesn’t mean you get to duck out of confrontations forever.
If she had gotten lured into a trap by him last time, well, she would be the one to set the trap this time. She knew what the guy wanted, and she knew how he operated. She knew what she had to do, and she knew she needed to get everyone else out of here so she could do it.
She headed toward the back and ran into Cevin as he was emerging from his office to help his remaining employees.
Her boss didn’t notice her; his flint-hard eyes had shot past her to fix on the dark figure lounging in the booth. “That guy,” Cevin growled under his breath, “better leave soon. It’s closing time. We might have to call the cops.”
Shit. Kera had hoped she could do this without Cevin knowing about it. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Cevin.” She put a hand on his arm to urge him back toward his office and out of sight of the man in the booth.
“For what?” he asked.
“Nothing you’ll remember.” She met his eyes briefly before she murmured an incantation and twisted her fingers in a strange gesture.
The surrounding light dimmed oddly and sound was muffled, then it was over. Cevin stood blinking into space until Kera guided him back to his office by the arm and sat him down in his chair.
“I’ll be right back,” she told him. “Just start shutting the computers down and get your things, okay?”
He swallowed. “Uh, okay.” He did
n’t seem to be aware that she was present.
Kera turned and left the office, rubbing her forehead and making a mental note to check on him before she let him leave. She hoped he remembered what day it was, at least.
And where he lived. This was the first time she had cast the spell on him, so she figured it should be safe. Safer, at any rate, than having him try to interfere in what she was doing, but she wanted to check later and make sure he was okay.
When she arrived in the bar, the final booth was empty, and the trim figure of their mysterious guest was vanishing out the front door. Kera knew where he would be in a little bit. She needed to get into position before he did.
She looked around. Jennifer still had a good ten minutes’ worth of work to do. It would have gone faster if someone helped her, but...
“Hey, Jenn,” Kera called. “I’m really sorry, but my mom is calling, and I gotta take it. It’s important. I’ll be back in fifteen. Make sure Cevin is okay, please. He wasn’t feeling well.”
Her co-worker nodded. She might not want to close down the bar on her own, but she wasn’t going to insist that Kera help in the middle of a family emergency.
Feeling a little guilty, Kera went to the lockers and pulled on her leathers. Then she yanked her blonde wig off, allowing her shorter black hair to spill out from beneath it, and set the wig on the shelf where the leather clothing had been. Finally, she slid on her black helmet.
There was one more thing to do. Around a tight corner between the office and the hallway leading to the rear entrance was the console for the security setup, including the cameras. It only took the girl a second to find the button to put the whole system on pause until further notice.
“Right. Here we go.” She slipped out the back of the bar into the darkness.
Chapter Thirty
Johnny Torrez chewed his lower lip as he peered down the alley. Cevin apparently had two brain cells to rub together after all. He’d bought extra lights with which to flood the alley, meaning there was no sufficiently dark place for Johnny to park his Mustang on the Mermaid’s property. Not only that but operating on foot would be more difficult.
One of the other businesses had a back lot, however, and a nice, shadowy corner where trees and a dumpster would block the sight of his car, even if someone squeezed around the Mermaid’s dumpster and looked at the other side of the alley.
Perfect.
He checked to make sure the Beretta was securely in its shoulder holster and that his dark glasses and hat were on to obscure his identity. He thought about lighting a smoke just in case they were too stupid to remember who he was.
He didn’t want his hands full, though.
He climbed out of the Mustang, taking a second to admire it, and locked its doors before turning toward the Mermaid. It wasn’t difficult to squeeze past the dumpster, though he resented them for the necessity.
He was still in the shadows next to it when a low voice froze him in his tracks.
“You shouldn’t have come back.” There was a faint rasp at the edges. At first, he thought it was a woman speaking, then he thought it might be a man.
For some reason, that seemed more threatening than any woman or man he had ever met. He froze in place, his mind shifting into full alertness, and looked around. No one was visible.
He told himself not to be stupid. He knew these tricks. He used these tricks. “Don’t fuck with me, whoever you are. I’m not the guy, you’re not the one, and now is not the time. You need to get yourself someplace safe, my friend.” His voice had taken on a cold, venomous edge, and anyone who wasn’t a complete moron would have caught the deadly threat in it.
“That,” the voice insinuated, seeming to come from a different direction now, “is the whole point, except you’ve missed it. You are the one who needs to leave. You’re on LA Witches turf, and we don’t appreciate other fucks trying to edge in on our territory.”
Johnny snorted. The stealth his challenger had demonstrated so far was mildly unnerving, but in his line of work, bullshit threats weren’t enough to faze him. Also, he was now pretty sure the voice was female.
That, he could handle.
He drew his pistol, grinning at the various pools of shadow. “Territories have a way of changing hands. Maybe you’re too new to know that yet, but trust me, you’re about to learn. This isn’t going to be your bitch-ass turf, so get the hell out of here.”
He began to take slow, deliberate steps, still scanning the shadows around him for a human silhouette. There was nothing. He racked the slide on his gun, allowing the distinctive metallic sound of a round being chambered to echo across the pavement.
Nothing moved, and no noises indicated that his hidden adversary had a firearm of their own. Unless they were on a rooftop and had a rifle scope on him...
Then why would the voice be coming from his level?
A trick of sound, maybe, but people who set up little tricks had a way of crumbling when the chips were down. They couldn’t handle a one-on-one fight.
He wasn’t scared of them.
He wasn’t.
The voice spoke again. “Stitches are for bitches, not witches.”
“What?” Johnny blew out his breath in exasperation. “That doesn’t even make sense. Let me tell you ‘bout you kids since I’ve learned a lot about you this week. You’re fucking weak. You been watching too many of those robot magician cartoons on YouTube, smoking weed until you think you’re invincible, but you’re about to get hurt for real.”
Light flooded the alley—the distinctive blue-tinted light from his custom headlights. Johnny watched as it grew lighter—clearly, only one headlight had gone on at first, but now there were both—and then dimmed again, going back to one, and then off entirely.
He hadn’t heard his engine.
He clenched his jaw and turned toward the Mermaid. “Great time for a malfunction,” he mumbled.
His visitor wasn’t done. “I bet you like that car,” she offered in that strange, muffled rasp. “It’s a shame the paint job is total shit.”
That was the last straw. Johnny stomped toward the voice, brandishing his pistol. “You scratch my car, and I’ll scratch a knife across your stomach.”
“Who said scratch?” the other asked. “How about a little fire instead?”
Suddenly afraid that someone was going to start tossing Molotov cocktails, Johnny spun, seeking targets for his Beretta, and pushed out of the alley. He ran for his car, knowing it was a trap and not caring.
They’d finally be in his sights now, and if they thought he wouldn’t shoot them, they were wildly mistaken.
He saw no one as he ran toward the shadowed corner where he’d parked, but he did smell something.
The godawful acrid stench of paint on fire.
Johnny skidded to a stop in front of the car to see wisps of smoke rising from it—and, undeniably, the hood glowing red like a sheet of metal in a forge.
“No. No. What the fuck!”
He strode toward it, slammed his hands down on the metal in a blind rage, and fumbled for the catch. Whatever the hell they’d done—
“Shit!” He jerked his hands off the burning metal, dropping his pistol on the pavement. It landed on one of the corners of its grip and bounced noisily in the opposite direction from where he stood.
He spun away from the car, shaking his hands out with a hiss of pain and scanning the darkness. He could hear footsteps, but they seemed to echo all around him, unmatched by any movements he could see.
“The LA Witches are not to be messed with,” the weird voice insisted. “I’ll be nice and write you a reminder note.”
“Huh?”
“You won’t remember any of this.” He could hear them smiling, dammit. “Trust me.”
The figure finally stepped out of the pitch-blackness into the gloom. It was a slender figure of average height, possibly female, but it was hard to tell under the leather outfit. The hands removed a glossy black helmet, and choppy black hair a little
shorter than shoulder-length fell out.
Johnny edged closer to where his pistol had fallen. “Who the hell are you?”
Kera settled her helmet under one arm and tried not to laugh aloud at his fear. He didn’t have any idea who she was, and his anger and confusion had combined to make him indecisive. The truth of who he really was under all that bluster was coming out.
“I’m the head bitch, shithead,” she said. “And you’re the one who might need stitches after this is over.”
She cast the spell, speaking the incantation in a rush of words now familiar and well-practiced, and twisting her free hand behind her back in the associated gesture. Her nerves fired as her body demanded that she move—action, because now it could move faster and hit harder than any human should be able to.
She shot toward the man, and her knee connected with his stomach before he could react. The helmet in her left hand helped her balance, and she smiled at the thought of smashing him across the face with it.
She didn’t think of herself as a violent person, but this man liked to hurt people. She wasn’t going to lose sleep over giving him a taste of his own medicine.
From his strangled cry and the spasm in his arms, she knew he was shocked by her speed, but he clearly had been in more than a few street fights in his life. He ducked aside before she could smash him in the face with either her helmet or her fist and struck at her, hand lashing toward her back.
He had clearly learned not to freeze at the start of a fight. Apparently, there was something under the bluster.
There wasn’t enough to change the outcome of this fight, though. Kera pivoted in time to avoid the full force of the blow, so it missed her kidney and bounced off the leather that covered her back ribs. She was already moving to her next goal, the pistol. She’d already marked where it lay and figured he would go for it.
As he did, she flash-stepped ahead of him, and his eyes bulged in shock as her boot came down on the fallen pistol a half-second before his hand could. Then she swung the helmet, catching him hard behind the ear with it.
He grunted and toppled to the pavement, shocked and moaning in pain though still conscious. “Puta,” he spat at her. “You got no idea who you’re—”
How to be a Badass Witch Page 23