Which Witch is Which - Kerrigan Byrne Page 0,23

into a smile. Tierra wiped her hands on her apron and pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face with the back of her wrist. “And who might you be?”

“A pain in the ass, mostly,” Moira commented, depositing the mugs from her tray in the deep sink behind the counter.

“Moira!” Tierra’s voice held a mix of motherly rebuke and embarrassment.

“It’s all right,” Nick said. He waved a casual hand in Moira’s direction. “We’ve met. I’m acquainted with your sister’s native…wit. Nick Kingswood.”

The hand she offered was shaken with a grasp as warm as a sundrenched rock, and lacked the accompanying jolt of pain and promise. But she was a witch. He had felt the low-level hum crackling like the air before a lightning strike.

“Tierra de Moray,” she announced. “What can I do for you?”

Nick hesitated. He wanted a few extra seconds to drink in the expression on her face. This moment, the space between a contented existence and the end of life as she knew it was his foreplay. His Christmas Eve. He returned her confident smile as an appetizer to the killing blow. “You can be out of here in three days.”

Yes. There it was. Her smile slid from its moorings, buffeted by confusion and disbelief.

“Out of where?” Tierra asked. “What do you mean?”

“Here.” Nick swept a hand over the crowded cafe. “This store. My building.”

A spontaneous burst of laughter set Tierra’s eyes dancing. “Yeah, right. Your building. I’ve been renting this space from Mrs. Cavendish forever!”

“Which explains why your lease hasn’t been updated recently. It seems the last one you signed ended about eighteen months ago.” Nick set his leather briefcase on the counter and popped the lid, withdrawing a manila folder. “Here we are.”

“Let me see that.” Tierra snatched the yellowing, dog-eared document away from him and flipped through the pages. Moira had taken to cleaning the same patch of counter over and over again as she leaned over her sister’s shoulder for a peek.

“That can’t be right,” Tierra said, worry creasing her face.

“Mrs. Cavendish was so eager to sell when she learned I was buying the rest of the block. Did you know she’s wanted to retire in Boca for years?” Genuine pleasure touched his heart at the memory. It had taken less than five minutes for Nick to secure her signature on the document now quaking in Tierra’s hands.

“Now I know you’re lying,” she accused. “There’s no way Port Townsend would sell an entire block of historic Water Street to a private citizen.”

“I suppose that depends on whether the citizen had acquired a renewable energy grant. You would be amazed at how much revenue those bring to a city. Not to mention the jobs.”

“Jobs?” Tierra repeated. “And what do you suppose will happen to the jobs of all the people here? All the businesses?”

“Sometimes sacrifices must be made in the name of the greater good. I’m sure you can understand that. We’re talking about renewable energy here, Miss de Moray. Or are you so arrogant as to think your presence here justifies environmental damage on a global scale?”

“My presence?” Tierra sputtered. “Environmental damage?”

If Nick cared for popcorn, now was when he would have sat back to indulge. The color rushing to the witch’s cheeks, her glass-green eyes standing out against them like shining marbles.

The coffee cups rattled on the shelves, clinking against their saucers. For a split second, Nick felt the ground beneath him submitting to a will other than his own.

“Don’t pay him no mind, Tierra,” Moira said, coming up behind her sister. The cups went quiet as she laid a hand on her shoulder. “Just cause he’s got enough money to burn a wet mule doesn’t mean he can push you out of your store.”

“Actually, Moira Jo,” Nick said, “that’s exactly what it means. And your sister knows it. Don’t you, Miss de Moray?”

Tierra shoved the papers at his chest with surprising force. “Get out of my store.”

“I think you mean my store. Or should I say, Crown Industries’ store?”

The haughty toss of her head reminded Nick of dark warhorses of days past. “Not for the next three days, it isn’t.”

Nick leaned across the counter, drawing close enough to make sure Moira could also hear his whispered words. “Don’t come between me and what I want, Miss de Moray. I would take great pleasure in showing you how much you have to lose.”

He looked straight at Moira and winked.

One last splendid sip of their defeat was all he allowed himself before

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