An American Witch In Paris. Michele Hauf

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going to let your new pet out on a leash?” She flopped the lariat around before her. “Aren’t you the kindest master ever.”

      “Good luck,” CJ said and wandered out of the room.

      “Get out of the cage, witch.”

      She stepped up to the threshold. “My name is Tuesday. Treat me well and I will return the kindness.”

      Ethan nodded. “Lead me to the demon and I’ll be more than grateful.”

      “I’m not going to lead you anywhere without cold hard cash.”

      “What?”

      “You think I’m going to do this for nothing? Slavery went out last century. If you want me to cooperate we need to talk money.” She jumped down onto the concrete floor, blessedly relieved to have left the smothering confines of that magic-busting cage. With a shiver and a flip of her hair over her shoulder, she walked up to the man.

      He stood a head higher than her, but she was accustomed to looking up to people, mostly men. Her stance spoke louder than her lacking height.

      “How much do you want?” he asked, surprising her that he hadn’t argued.

      “A million. US dollars, not your freaky French euros.”

      He broke out into throaty laughter that, in any other circumstance, might have grasped her by the lusting heart and teased her to flutter her lashes at him. But this was not any other time. With a flick of her forefinger, Tuesday tossed a beam of pain at the vampire. The magic burst into a spray of violet sparks just inches from his face and dispersed.

      Damn shackle.

      “Good to see CJ’s spell works,” he said. “Tough luck, witch. I’m impervious to your magic now.”

      Only so long as the shackle stayed in place. And her sigil was so hot that it could burn through pretty much anything right now...

      “Half a million then,” she said.

      “Ten grand.”

      Tuesday spun and jumped up into the cage opening. “I think I’ll stay here then. Apparently, I’m the only one who can do what you need done. I’m worth more than a few bucks. You think about it, then get back to me.”

      “I’ve got a budget, witch.”

      “And I’ve got all the time in the world. Do you?”

      He rubbed his stubble-shadowed jaw. Tuesday rather liked it when a man tickled his stubble over her skin, as his gaze journeyed down her stomach and lower. And his beard was frosted with a touch of grey in the dark brown, which added a delicious seasoning to his appearance. If the man wasn’t so obstinate he’d actually be sexy.

      “A hundred thousand,” he offered. “That’s as high as I can go.”

      “Deal.” Tuesday jumped down again and marched past him toward the door. She would have taken the ten grand. “Let’s get out of this dungeon. Did you forget I need to pee?”

      * * *

      The witch had gone into the private bathroom attached to the office Ethan occupied in headquarters. There were no windows in the small washroom for her to escape through, so he trusted her to shut the door.

      Meanwhile, he checked his email. No new orders waiting for retrieval assignment. And he’d sent details regarding his taking this particular mission to the Council. No reply, so far, was good news.

      He glanced to the maple-wood bathroom door. He and CJ had only planned things so far. And that plan hadn’t quite come to complete fruition. It would, soon enough. He wasn’t sure how he was going to work with the witch.

      She was obstinate. A smart-ass. And he hadn’t expected her to be gorgeous. Utterly beautiful. In a weird, silver Goth sort of way. Behind her defensive, smart mouth and angry rubber band-snapping machinations he felt sure a sensual goddess inhabited the irresistible curves and gemstone blue eyes.

      He raked fingers through his hair and shook his head. What was he thinking? He needed to do this right. He was the boss. And he wasn’t about to show weakness or failure to his employees by letting his thoughts stray from the task at hand.

      He’d handle the witch with a strong hand and command. He had to stay on guard with her. To set an example for others. But it would prove a challenge, not only because of her odd appeal, but also because it had been so long since he’d actually worked a mission. If she learned that he was questioning his own abilities—and thus had taken the job to prove he wasn’t washed up and was physically capable of handling such a mission—he’d never succeed.

      * * *

      They headed out, Tuesday following Ethan’s sure gait. It was a confident walk. A sexy walk. After many turns and an elevator ride down four floors, the sight of a door up ahead gave her great glee. Soon.

      She pressed her hand over the shackle rope, which she’d been holding snug against the sigil. The rope fibers were hot and smoldering. It was working.

      “I don’t live far from here. We’ll walk,” Ethan said.

      He’d mentioned they would discuss a plan for capturing the demon. Why they didn’t simply do it in his office was beyond her, but she appreciated the opportunity to get out of the building. And away.

      He opened a heavy steel door. Bright daylight filtered in, making Tuesday blink. She had lost all concept of time, and even though her muscles were dragging her downward from exhaustion, the crisp winter air, inhaled deeply, worked to lighten her. And keep her focused. Tugging her coat closed, but keeping one hand inside on the shackling rope, she followed the vampire outside.

      They exited into a narrow, cobblestone alleyway. Ethan turned left.

      Tuesday turned right and started to run. She made it ten feet, pulling away the rope that had burned apart thanks to the demon sigil, and dropped it behind her. But as her speed increased and she began to pump her arms, her body collided with an invisible wall, slamming her backward to land in the arms of Ethan Pierce.

      “I expected as much,” he said. A flash of his bright smile did not give her any mirth. “So did CJ. The rope was merely a distraction until CJ had time to work up a stronger spell.”

      “Bastard,” she muttered, and collapsed in his arms.

       Chapter 3

      The steel door through which they’d exited opened and the dark witch swung out with urgency. He lifted his hand, exposing the glowing spell tattoos that covered his palm. As he approached, he asked Ethan, “You sure about this, man?”

      “Nope. But someone’s got to do it. So do your darkest.”

      “Oh, no.” Not knowing what was coming, but not stupid, either, Tuesday struggled out of Ethan’s grasp.

      The vampire stretched back an arm toward his approaching cohort while he managed to hold her by the coat with his other hand. She wasn’t going to let

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