Bait N' Witch (Brimstone Inc. #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,2

as her hair grew. Besides, witches tended toward red hair more than any other color.

His face remained a mask, a total blank, giving none of his opinions away. Finally, he stood from his crouch, lowering his hands. A whispered word sent the energy balls spiraling into the air, where they expended their power in a series of tornado-like moves until they dissipated.

“Remove your spell from my children.” An order, not a request.

“Certainly.” As soon as she checked something first, Rowan turned to the girls. “Are you all finished?”

Three sets of wide, Caribbean-blue eyes stared at her. Correction…two sets, and a shaggy head of mint-green hair.

“I asked you to remove your spell,” Greyson Masters snapped.

She flicked him a glance. “I will. As soon as I get a guarantee of good behavior.”

Rowan ignored the tightening of his mouth. Apparently, Mr. Masters was a man who expected instant obedience. And got it, too, she suspected, except from his daughters, a notion which had her lips twitching. Poor powerful warlock couldn’t handle three pint-sized witches.

She turned to the girls with raised eyebrows and waited. After questioning glances at their dad, who said nothing, slowly, all three heads bobbed in agreement.

“Excellent.” Rowan flapped a hand, and the girls worked their jaws and rubbed at their wrists, as though the restraints had been physical.

Command obeyed, she turned back to the father, who eyed her narrowly. Perhaps this was not the most auspicious beginning to their relationship as boss and employee. She was supposed to be lying low, avoiding scrutiny—she might have to revisit that plan.

Rowan gave a mental shrug. In for a penny, in for a pound. With a cheerful smile, she held out her hand to shake. “My name is Rowan McAuliffe.” Her light brogue thickened as she spoke her name, which happened only when she was nervous.

To give him credit, Greyson at least shook her hand. “Greyson Masters.”

Rowan had to keep from yanking her hand back as an almost painful electric zing shot from Greyson’s hand through her body, the current sizzling down her veins, leaving in its wake heat that spread everywhere. The warmth left her unbalanced and unbelievably turned on. Until, just as quickly, the sensation drew back as though sucked in, condensing to a single smoldering spot in her left wrist.

What was that?

Carefully, she released his hand and dropped hers to her side, resisting the urge to glance at the spot, which still burned.

Those fates had some serious explaining to do. Had her traitorous body seriously lit up like the sparks that her adopted mother would give off when she was angry? All in response to that one brief touch? Pathetic. Worse, he was now her employer, and given his job to hunt her down, that reaction landed under the title of highly inappropriate. Not to mention inopportune, inexplicable, and all sorts of other words beginning with “in.”

Releasing her, Greyson crossed his arms, feet planted wide. In his blue button-down and tie, the man looked more like an intimidating lawyer than a powerful mage. “How’d you get in the house?”

She blinked at the unexpected question before she remembered how the door had unlocked itself. “I was about to knock when I heard screaming.” She darted a glance at the girls, who watched in rapt silence. “The door was locked, and I was about to…uh…deal with that, when it unlocked and swung open on its own.”

Thick eyebrows drew down over distrustful eyes. “That’s not possible. The wards on this house prevent anyone but family from coming inside without an express invitation from me or my blood relations.”

“Perhaps the house sensed I was trying to help?” She wasn’t quite sure what he expected her to say. She had no idea why the darn door had opened for her.

“Perhaps.” Doubt dripped from two syllables. In other words, he suspected her of foul play.

Another long, uncomfortable staring session commenced, one from which she refused to back down. After being raised by a demon, intimidating stares did little to sway her. When he uncrossed his arms, she silently crowned herself the winner of this round.

“We were expecting you two days ago,” he said.

“Teleporting is not one of my gifts.” Total lie. Gods, she hated lying, even if she’d gotten good at it. “I got here as quickly as the speed limit allowed.” Or maybe she’d taken her time. Could anyone who knew her full situation blame her?

“Hmmm…”

Rowan flashed another cheery smile and gave him her best impression of an oblivious dingbat with wide, guileless eyes. At