Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,61
Vogel.” I was none too pleased that the burly man was gracing our doorstep again.
“You still haven’t plugged in your phone.”
“Or we have caller ID,” Annette offered.
He glared down at her, his ire turning his pasty skin a bright scarlet.
His presence felt like acid on my skin. I found that many people only seemed distant or antagonistic, but deep down they were nice people. Vogel didn’t fall into the nice category. He was aggressive and volatile all the way through to his cold, black heart. I also had the feeling he’d hurt people in his past. I would be looking into that past as soon as I had a chance.
I pushed past Annette to take first position at the door. “Mr. Vogel, what can I do for you? Besides bring someone back from the dead, that is.”
“Can I talk to you alone?” He stepped back, expecting me to follow.
The darkness that overwhelmed me in that moment took my breath away, as though his intentions had manifested into a physical sensation. Even if I’d wanted to follow, Percy wrapped his vines around both of my ankles. To some degree, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t about to follow Vogel anywhere. He had a peculiar smell about him. An off scent I couldn’t quite place.
Oh, yes. There it was.
Death.
But to a larger degree, Percy keeping me glued to the spot did matter. I looked down and whispered through my teeth, “False imprisonment, mister.”
He didn’t care. He tightened his hold, clearly no longer trusting my judgment. If he ever did. We were going to have to talk. Soon.
“I’m on a case at the moment,” I said to Mr. Vogel.
“I just need a minute.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have one. And I’m not sure we would have anything to talk about even if I did. I told you, I lost my powers.”
He stepped close again. “I’m pretty certain I don’t believe you.”
“Be that as it may . . .” I started to close the door.
His hand shot out, and he grabbed my arm and yanked none-too-gently.
“Hey!” Annette shouted, trying to get past me and at him. Little firecracker.
His audacity stunned me. The razor-sharp thorns from the vines that twisted around his hand stunned him. He jerked back his hand, and we both stood there with our mouths agape as Annette harumphed in satisfaction.
He backstepped to a safer distance before stabbing me with that lethal glare of his. “I wanted to do this the easy way.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, stunned by his audacity again.
His gaze darted past me to something over my shoulder.
I was not about to take my eyes off him. The man was quicker than he looked. He tossed me one more glare for good measure then turned and strode down the walk to his pickup.
I finally turned and saw what I knew I would, because a calmness came over me anytime Roane stepped into my orbit.
He stood behind me, hair a mass of tangles and arms crossed over his wide chest, in a rumpled maroon T-shirt, leather kilt, and work boots he’d crossed at the ankles. All the things a growing girl needed.
“Did Percy wake you?” I glared up at the entity as though I could actually see him, though I had appreciated the intervention with Vogel.
“I was up,” he lied, his voice thick with sleep, and his lashes crumpled together like he’d been in a deep state of slumber.
“I’m sorry.”
“That I was up?”
“No.” I was quick to correct. “Never. It’s just . . . Roane, Ruthie told me you’re basically paid to keep an eye on me. It’s unnecessary. Please don’t feel obligated to, I don’t know, be my bodyguard.”
The grin that stole across his face seized my lungs. “Ms. Dayne, there is little on Earth I’d rather do than guard your body.”
Every bone I owned, and even a few I didn’t, dissolved. It was the mischief in his smile. The glistening in his eyes. The promise of things to come in his expression.
A sigh echoed through the foyer, and we turned to see Annette standing close by. Like really close by. Like at our shoulders. She had difficulty with personal space.
“Either way”—I fidgeted with my wrist, missing my bracelet—“it’s not your job.”
“Are you firing me?” His deep voice sent ripples of pleasure over my skin.
“Please don’t fire him,” Annette said, her expression pleading, and it took everything in me not to crack up.
Something moved in my periphery. The shadow I’d been seeing. The entity from the witch bottle. Sir.