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She inwardly cursed as a drop of sweat slid down his forehead. He also had a bead on his upper lip, and she knew he wasn’t telling the truth. He was setting her up.
Rhia's good mood vanished. Shit, shit, shit. She couldn’t explain how she knew when shit was about to hit the fan. She just did. And this time wasn’t just going to be bad. It felt massively bad, almost as bad as what had happened to her a decade ago.
"I have another appointment and I can’t be late. Next time." She kept her tone light and neutral.
Manny stared at her like she had two heads. "Um, no, I mean, these guys will pay big for this stuff. You can’t pass this up, kid. C’mon, this will be the opportunity of a lifetime…hey, what's that noise?"
"What noise?" Rhia had heard it before Manny did, picking up an unnatural presence in the facility. She played it cool to not spook the already buzzed pit-boss.
"Huh, weird. Are you sure you didn't hear that?" He looked toward the ceiling, still looking for the location of the noise.
Rhia shook her head and reluctantly played along. “What did it sound like?”
"Oh well, kinda like a screech or something," Manny said.
She looked around again, pretending to be as interested in the mysterious noise as he was. "Must be your imagination. Like I said, I need to be somewhere else.” Rhia stood and fast walked toward the door. “Oh, and no driving for at least an hour."
Manny lunged toward her, his hand just missing her upper arm. “You don’t understand, Rhia. You can’t say no to these guys.”
She placed a bored look on her face in spite of her racing heart. “I have rules, Manny. Unless you want this to be your last dose. I suggest you move. Now.”
Her compulsion skills weren’t the best, so she crossed her fingers. As much as she hated to, she grasped his wrist and whispered the necessary words, “Forgo reality, obey my words, clear recent memory, and step aside. So I will it, so mote it be.” Good enough, she thought as she pushed her will from her mind through their physical connection and waited.
Finally, Manny’s unfocused gaze gave her the precious few moments she’d need to escape whatever trap waited for her in the penthouse. He swayed, then stepped back. Bolting down the corridor, she turned down a couple corners before pausing to take a cleansing breath. She’d forgotten Manny had horrid breath. Maybe her next creation should be a permanent fix for halitosis?
On her second cleansing breath, her eyes widened, then she slammed them shut and released a groan. She smelled Channel No. 5. Damn. That only meant one thing. Or one someone. And the source of the screeching sound plus the odd vibe that followed now made sense.
Mother.
Just then, flying down the hallway, Rhia spied a pink dove with a piece of parchment attached to its left leg. How dramatic. Of course, her mother had found her on the eve of her thirtieth birthday. Ten years of being hyper vigilant to her surroundings and to other witches who crossed her path, plus altering her appearance so he wouldn’t find her.
Had all her efforts been for nothing?
Rhia rolled her eyes as the bird swooped towards her head, screeched, and landed on her shoulder. With her mother's favorite scent wafting gently on the air, the bird settled in and offered its leg. Why the hell was she even surprised? Normal was not in her mother's vocabulary.
She untied the ribbon and removed the parchment. Written in a bold and flowery hand: "Trust him Rhia; he is your destiny."
Balling up the paper in her hands, she shoved it in her pocket, then continued jogging toward the basemen’s exit. Slamming through the door, she slowed enough to mix in with the patrons of the casino as she skirted the blackjack tables. She knew the layout well and was at the front door in record time.
“Miss Grant! Miss Grant!”
The concierge followed her out. She had no choice but to look back at him. But it wasn’t him that she was worried about. It was the two men less than a hundred yards behind him laser-focused on her. The closer they came, there was something about their eyes that turned her blood cold.
“Miss Grant, the boss would like you to meet with him and his associates.” The concierge’s face was flushed beet red. “I’m so sorry.” He stuttered, pulling at his necktie.
Oh, hell no. She ignored all three men, spun on her heel, and bolted. At full speed, she misjudged how much space she had before the stamped concrete patio turned into a flight of steps.
Out of nowhere a man appeared, catching her around the waist, pulling her into his rock-hard chest that she would have bounced off of if he hadn’t wrapped both hands around her upper arms, keeping her from breaking her neck as if his life depended on it.
And maybe it did because it was him. Six feet plus of the destiny she never wanted was gorgeously packaged as a cross between an underwear model and an MMA fighter. Hell, why not call a spade a spade? He looked like a Greek God. Hard lines and harder angles.
And his face. She’d run before she’d ever got a good look at his face. Except she had seen his face before. Somehow, every night in her dreams, she’d seen him.
Rhia knew that face better than she knew her own. And unbelievably, her libido was kicking in as never before.
Her heart stopped, then sputtered back into a rhythm that was far from normal. All her most sensitive places flared to life, immediately on high alert. No, no, no.
She had to get away from the man who’d sent her into hiding for the last decade.
