as sleek as his car looked and infinitely more powerful.
She threw everything into full reverse. He was every bit as dangerous as she had first thought. Every bit and more.
Maybe it hadn’t been the smartest idea to meet him in such a secluded spot. But he was a district attorney, she reminded herself, not a serial killer. By the time Josiah reached the picnic shelter, she had wrestled her reactions under control.
He climbed up to sit beside her, moving his long-limbed body with fluid ease. “Good venue for dinner.”
“I thought so too.” Digging into the first of the two bags beside her, she pulled out a six-pack of craft beer and offered it to him.
He accepted a bottle. Setting the six-pack between them, she handed him the second bag. He peered into it and then at the logo on the outside of the bag. “I’d hoped I was smelling fried chicken. Is this from a chain?”
“Nope. You will want to remember the name of this place. Best fried chicken in Atlanta.” She used the opener she’d bought to pry off the bottle cap, handed the opener to him, and took a pull from her bottle.
“Excellent. I was too busy to have a real lunch.” He selected a large piece and handed the bag back.
“How’s your job going? No nasty surprises, I hope?”
He replied lazily, “Nothing I can’t handle.”
I bet. She avoided saying that out loud.
Searching through the bag, she pulled out a foil-wrapped biscuit. The food was still hot, and she rolled the top of the bag down over the rest to hold in the warmth.
Then she crumbled her biscuit and sipped at her beer while Josiah ate in silence. When he finished his first piece, he fished out another. He seemed to be in no hurry to break the silence, but she had an agenda.
“What do people call you?” she asked. “Are you a witch or a warlock?”
He shrugged, finished his beer, and took a second bottle. “Either or both. Sometimes sorcerer. Occasionally asshole. Personally, I’m not in love with labels.”
Lingering warmth from the sunlight touched her face and hands, but the evening chill was setting in. “I don’t want to become a major force on the Eastern Seaboard. The thought never occurred to me, not even in my wildest daydreams.”
He grinned. “That was where I lost you, wasn’t it?”
She nodded. “One of the places. I could tell you want it though.”
“Oh yes,” he said, his voice deepening. “I’m going to be governor of Georgia within the next two election cycles.”
Looking at his hard, determined profile, she believed him. “But when you say become a major force, you don’t really mean by using the human political system. Do you?”
“No, although it will help to gain political power as well.” He glanced at her, a quick, calculating look, and then back over the clearing. “Most witches are territorial, especially in the witches demesne, which is run by a very old, well-established council. Outside Louisville, you might find areas held by either solitary witches or full covens. They don’t much like other people of significant Power moving in on their turf. Wars have been fought over who gets to hold which city. You might as well know I intend to claim Atlanta for my own.”
Wars.
Abruptly certain she shouldn’t be drinking alcohol while talking to him, she set aside her beer. “The Atlanta area isn’t pro-magic.”
“Give me enough time and I can flip it.”
His confidence was so rock-solid she believed him. “Why don’t you make your move? If there isn’t any other mature, practicing witch here, the city is wide open for the taking, right?”
He shook his head. “That’s not a yes-or-no answer. Atlanta may not be claimed by a resident witch, but it’s a place of special interest to a certain dangerous Power, which brings me to an important point. This Power likes to operate under the radar, out of public sight. I know you think I spelled your cell phone when we talked in the bar, but I didn’t. I could tell you were under some distress last night, and that’s why I cast a spell to contact you. The communication spell uses the nearest and best available way to reach out. At the time, that happened to be your cell phone, but it could also have been your television screen or computer monitor.”
“I see.” She took a slow breath. Looking at him sidelong, she asked, “How did you know I was distressed?”