Fire Dancer (Spellbound in Sedona #2)

Chapter Twelve

INGO

Pippa dove right back into work, gesturing with her elbow a moment later. “I need pressure here.”

I grabbed a steel plate and held it up to the rim of her glass.

“A little more…” Pippa said.

I had to lean way in to do that. So far, my chin brushed her head.

“Closer…”

The hot shop smelled mildly of beeswax and sweat, but getting close to Pippa gave me a whiff of her lavender scent.

“Okay, now the calipers…”

I nearly hummed in pleasure. God, it was nice to have her close.

Then an elbow nudged my ribs, and Pippa spoke louder.

“Ingo — calipers.”

I straightened quickly. Oh. Right.

The glass looked perfect to me, but Pippa kept at it, checking this and that.

She’d pulled her hair back with a clip, but a lock escaped, and she blew up at it.

“Dammit…”

I caught it with a finger and smoothed it behind her ear.

“Thanks,” she murmured without so much as a glance.

I celebrated and mourned at the same time. It was nice, this quiet, together time. But Pippa was so deep in the tunnel vision of work that I doubted she noticed me.

Then I pursed my lips, because she wasn’t the only one guilty of tunnel vision sometimes.

Okay, a lot of times, in my case.

“Get ready to catch,” Pippa said a few minutes later.

I grabbed the oven mitts and held them out, holding my breath.

“Ready?” she asked, preparing to tap the decanter free of the rod. “One…two…three!”

She tapped, and the decanter dropped lightly into my hands.

I raced for the annealer and set it in carefully, then backed away for Pippa to close the door.

We stood over it, sweating bullets but grinning a mile wide.

“High five,” she announced, sticking a hand up.

The moment I smacked it, she turned back to the workbench, ready for the next piece. Three seconds later, she turned back to me, her eyes wide. “Oh my gosh. That was the last piece. We did it!”

I laughed. “You did it.”

She held her arms high like a runner crossing a finish line, then threw them around me. “I can’t believe I’m done.” When she pulled back a little, her eyes were alight with pride. “And you know what? I think they’re going to come out really well.”

“I know they will,” I assured her.

Pippa fell back into the hug, basking in her little victory, and letting me bask too. I held her close, happy to have been part of it, even in a small way.

The longer I held her, the happier I felt, and the less I remembered why. It didn’t seem to matter much any more, only that we were together, and everything was good. Really good, in a way I hadn’t felt for a long time.

My breaths slowed. My heart thumped. My eyes closed.

Happy. Together. Good.

Over the next few seconds, I didn’t move, speak, or even think. Neither did Pippa. But something must have changed, because the hug went from being the punctuation mark at the end of one thing to the beginning of something new. Something very warm, comfortable…even sensual.

Pippa sighed, sliding her hands a little lower down my back.

I inhaled, tempted to let mine slide up. My skin tingled, and my thoughts blurred.

The next thing I knew, we were kissing. Touching. Wanting. Getting…

Pippa’s lips parted, and the kiss went from gentle to raging, as if we’d turned the blowtorch on ourselves. Our hands roamed boldly, and our breaths turned into pants.

My body burned, and my jeans grew uncomfortably tight.

“So good,” Pippa whispered, dragging her body against mine.

My mind grew more and more hazy. Sex became more and more inevitable. Undeniable, actually, because it had been too long.

Much too long, my wolf hummed greedily.

Pippa eased up onto the workbench, keeping her knees wide. I stepped closer, hissing in need when our hips meshed.

“Yes…” Pippa breathed, leaning back. The angle shoved her core against mine, and I went from tight to hard .

Angling farther and farther back, she pulled my shirt up, then fumbled with the button of my jeans.

Ring-ring! The bell over the shop door sang merrily, and we froze.

Pippa’s hand stayed on my back, and I nearly roared at whomever that was.

The shop was dead quiet for an instant, other than the sound of our panting breaths.

“Oh. Hello. Am I interrupting?” the brunette at the door asked, more snide than amused.

I nearly let my wolf fangs out to snap at her, but then I caught myself. Really caught myself. Whoa. What had just happened?

Pippa’s lips moved as she blinked at me. Slowly, grudgingly, we fought our way out of that all-consuming magic spell woven by…love? Lust? Fate?

Pippa straightened her shirt and stepped away from me, making my wolf howl.

“Can I help you?” she asked, snippier than I’d ever heard her.

Good to know I wasn’t the only one mourning the end of that kiss.

The woman thumped a paper on the counter and tapped it with a long, manicured nail. Her crimson nail polish matched the color of her pouty lips.

“I’m here to pick up the order for TTC Limited.”

Most folks in Sedona wore clothing suitable for scaling cliffs or zipping over mountain bike trails, whether they actually set off on such adventures or not. This woman had more of the casual-yet-carefully-curated yoga retreat look, though maintaining balance with those artificially enhanced boobs would be quite a trick. Her white down jacket was wide open and pushed aside to show off her shoulders. Underneath, a skimpy purple leotard struggled to contain those fake boobs. It was cut so high in the thigh that skin showed above the hem of her designer sweatpants.

Pippa went perfectly still. “Oh. You mean the vials?”

“Yes, I mean the vials,” the bitch — er, woman — shot back. “Is something wrong?”

I hated her already, and I was pretty sure Pippa did too.

Pippa gave herself a little shake. “No. Sorry. I guess I was expecting Stacy.”

“Mm,” the woman said, conveying no meaning at all.

I did a double take. Stacy? The Stacy I’d been following?

Pippa didn’t exactly demand an explanation, but her posture sure did.

“She couldn’t make it today,” the woman said with a sharp look.

Pippa considered for a long minute, then let out her own cryptic, “Mm.” She turned back to the workshop. “Just a second, please.”

The few times I’d been in the shop, Pippa had practically jumped to help customers. Now, she took her sweet time turning off the oven and checking the annealer settings.

Click, click, click. The customer tapped her long nails on the glass counter.

I spotted a big beige SUV with tinted windows parked outside. Stacy’s ride.

Every muscle in my body coiled.

I turned away before the glance became a stare and busied myself tidying Pippa’s workbench, though my ears remained perked.

I sniffed the air, but the fan was blowing the woman’s scent away from, not toward me.

Click, click, click.

Pippa disappeared into the back then emerged with a huge box. When she thumped it on the counter, lots of small somethings clinked. Pippa opened the box and started riffling through it, counting out loud.

“Two…four…six…eight…”

I couldn’t see the contents. Lots of small glass items was my guess.

Small glass items headed for TTC Limited — one of many shell companies in a long, dirty chain my gut saw leading to Victor Jananovich, though I had no evidence to prove that.

Yet.

Click, click, click.

“Twenty-two…twenty-four…”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” the woman snipped.

Pippa kept going, counting silently, then pulled out a sheet of paper. “Sign here, please.”

The woman pinched the pen between her claws — er, long fingernails — and scribbled away with an annoyed air.

I looked at the box, then at the SUV. A golden opportunity, so I jumped.

“Can I carry that for you?” I offered.

The woman’s feral eyes traveled over my body and lit up.

I plucked the sweaty fabric of my white T-shirt from my chest.

“Yes, please,” she purred with a lick of her too-red lips.

Pippa shot me a sharp look.

I lifted the box onto my shoulder and headed for the door, where I paused.

Little Miss Clicky paused too, waiting for me to hold the door open for her. Never mind that my hands were full and hers were not.

I balanced the box with one hand and opened the door with the other, letting Clicky march through. And, whoa. Did she bathe in Chanel No. 5? The odor was so intense, I nearly sneezed.

Pippa stuck her hands on her hips, but I didn’t have time to explain.

The driver must have hit a button, because the trunk opened. I leaned as far in as I dared, keeping my face behind the box. The musky scent of bear shifter enveloped me, along with pine cleaner, and I nearly sneezed. Bear shifter, pine cleaner, and something else…but it was hard to smell anything over the reek of Clicky’s perfume.

There was nothing else in that squeaky-clean trunk. The tires and underbody were just as spotless, but whoever had scrubbed it had missed a spot of orange dust by the rear light. Dust like the ground around Gunnery Point?

I peeked at the driver out of the corner of my eye. He was a big guy — weight-lifter big, but so were most bear shifters — with a buzz cut and a dark suit. I could feel his eyes on me via the rearview mirror.

The woman hadn’t lifted a finger the whole time, but now, she stuck a hand on the raised hatch and canted her hips to show off her curves.

Her voice was an inviting purr. “Nice of you to help, Mr.…”

“Anytime.” I forced a tight smile and opened the back door for her, keeping my back to the driver while I scanned the interior. Nothing there apart from a couple of shopping bags — the luxury kind with fancy handles and embossed print.

I held the door a little wider to prevent Miss Clicky from brushing against me on the way in. I wasn’t sure whether she was going for a cheap thrill or if she’d been trained to take away a hint of my scent, but I wasn’t keen on either.

Once seated, she opened her mouth to speak, but I slammed the door before she could and marched back into the shop.

Outside, the SUV rolled away as silently — and ominously — as it had come.

I kept my back turned for five full seconds, then went to the window to check the license plate.

Yep. Same plate, same SUV. Same driver, I would bet. So, where was Stacy?

“Did you have to be so helpful?” Pippa grumbled.

“Believe me, it was just an excuse to have a look at the car.”

“Oh,” Pippa said, deflating. “And?”

“It’s the same vehicle Stacy rode in. Same driver. Same vehicle we saw exiting La Puebla, too.”

She nodded, uneasy.

I stepped to her side, and together, we studied the invoice the woman had signed.

Pippa turned it this way and that, but the scribble might as well have been secret code.

“Deirdre somebody,” Pippa tried.

At least the rest had been preprinted on the invoice. TTC Limited.

I looked at the order section of the invoice. “Fifty vials? What kind of vials?”

Pippa rooted in a drawer and held up two small tubes. “Love vials. Couples get them to fill with…” She trailed off, going pale.

I frowned. “Filled with what?”

Her throat bobbed, and she looked in the direction the SUV had gone. “Blood.”

Every alarm in my mind began to whoop.

“Blood?”

She nodded slowly. “Not my thing, but some people like to carry around a little of their true love’s blood.”

I grimaced. “Seriously?”

She crossed her arms again, but not in defiance. More like hugging herself. “Yep. Totally gross, if you ask me.”

“And these are what Stacy was picking up?” I asked. “Every time?”

“Yes. Fifty. Every week, more or less.”

My mind spun. Fifty vials meant twenty-five couples. What use did Jananovich have for that?

“Half a shot glass…” Pippa murmured. “Vampires…”

I cocked my head, letting her think.

“Vampire couples?” she mused.

I couldn’t make sense of it either, but I was definitely on red alert.

“When was the last time you saw Stacy?” I asked.

Pippa’s lips wobbled. “Yesterday. No, wait. The day before.”

“Did she say anything about picking up this order?”

“Indirectly. She’s always been the one who picks up the order. Always.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“Nothing specific. But she did look nervous.”

She stared at me, then rummaged in her bag for her phone. I watched as she pressed a few buttons, waited, then spoke into voice mail.

“Hi, Stacy. It’s Pippa. I was just—”

I made a cutting motion in the air, prepared to grab the phone out of her hand.

Pippa stared, then caught on. Stacy might not be the only person who heard those messages.

Pippa gulped and considered her words before finishing. “I’m just calling to say I hope you’re happy with the latest order. Please let me know when you have a chance, okay? Thank you.” Then she paused again, stuck. “I’ll… I’ll see you soon, I hope.”

She hung up, staring at me with wide, pleading eyes. Then she turned briskly to the workshop, as if she didn’t want an answer to her unspoken question.

“I’m sure everything is fine…”

I wasn’t so sure. I hoped she’d see Stacy soon too. But my gut feared the worst.

“Damn,” Pippa cursed, catching a glimpse of the clock. “I have to get going.”

Right, the catering job. I watched her race around, closing the shop down, but my mind was elsewhere. Pippa’s too, no doubt.

Twenty minutes later, Pippa hustled me out the back door and locked it behind us.

“See you soon?” she said when I’d walked her to her car.

I frowned at the echo of her message to Stacy. I took her hands and squeezed.

“Be careful. I mean it,” I said before she could protest. “The moment anything feels off, call me.” I shook her hands a little. “Promise, okay?”

Her lips wobbled a little. I hated to spook her, but she had to understand this was serious.

“I promise.” She looked at me for a minute, and I braced myself for a but .

Instead, she rocked on her heels, then threw her arms around me and held me tight.

The contact was the best feeling, but the scariest too. Something was up, and we both knew it.

I closed my eyes, soaking in the positive part of the feeling. Then I leaned away, because it was time to go.

Pippa searched my eyes for a long, silent moment. I wavered too, then gave in and kissed her. Hard and long, on the lips, letting her know how much I loved her. How much I’d missed her. How much I regretted.

Pippa sighed, and her body relaxed against mine. Everything but the lips, which kept massaging mine.

My inner wolf howled in joy and relief.

But a passing car tooted, and someone cheered, making us break apart.

“Asshole,” Pippa muttered. Then her eyes went wide. “Him, I mean! Not you.”

My lips curled. “Does that mean I might get another kiss later?”

She chuckled, all coy. “Maybe.”

A smile stretched my cheeks — the biggest I’d managed in years, it seemed like.

She closed her eyes briefly, warring with herself. “I have to go…”

The way she said it — all sad and regretful — gave me hope.

I popped a goodbye kiss on her lips.

“See you soon,” I said, biting back another, Be careful.

“Soon,” she promised, patting me on the chest.

I watched her go, then blew out a deep breath. My mind filled with multiple trains of thought — many more than tracks to organize them with. But another deep breath narrowed my focus to the one that took priority.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. Not the agency. Captain Edwards had made it perfectly clear I couldn’t count on agency support regarding Jananovich. Which didn’t leave me with many aboveboard options.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t have other resources. And the agency wasn’t the only force to be reckoned with when it came to supernatural activity in this area.

The phone rang. Once…twice…three times.

Finally, my contact picked up. “Williams here.”

I turned away from the street and kept my voice low. “This is Kemper.” I hesitated, knowing full well I was risking my career. “We need to meet. It’s urgent.”

The man on the other end of the line processed that for a moment before answering. “Meeting in an official capacity?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly.”

The ensuing pause was so long, I worried he’d hung up. But then he spoke. “When?”

“As soon as possible. With you and, ideally, your boss.”

Another excruciating wait. Then, finally, a reply. “I’ll see what I can do. But no guarantees.”

My laugh was dry. Nothing was guaranteed in my line of work.

“Call me back in an hour,” he finished.

Then the line went dead.