“Where are you?” I asked.
“Your front door. Being held at knifepoint by a very unhappy member of the queen’s guard. The weapon is currently jabbed up under my rib cage,” he said, sounding almost jaunty. “I’d be most grateful if the queen’s godchild, the Princess Angelina, would call off her watchdogs.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “You should be used to that, Lee. Hang on.”
Putting him on mute, I whirled, stripped off my tacky clothes, and pulled on fleece lounge pants and a matching tank with a heavy sweatshirt, and fuzzy slippers. As I moved, I tapped my unicom on the guard’s dedicated channel and said, “An unexpected guest is allowed entry. Please escort Leandro Villetti to the door of my chambers.” Chambers, not apartment. Formal language. Funny how easily I slipped back into it when circumstances required.
“My lady,” the female guard said. “He’s armed. And he’s carrying military ammo.”
Demon rounds. Smart. I considered. “He’s an ally and safe. For now. His service weapon may remain on his person. Escort him up.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, I’m not happy about this.”
“I’m not fond of him either.” I tapped off. Brushed my teeth, neatened the bed covers, tossed my dirty clothes into the hamper, lit the fireplace, started a kettle and measured enough grounds for several cups of coffee into the French press. My hair was wet, but there was nothing I could do about that except curl the strawberry blonde locks into a loose bun at the top of my head and hope it didn’t frizz too much. My wet hair meant wild, unruly curls.
The last thing I did was place a wooden vase on the table and tap it once, to activate thetruthworking stored in it. Theworking let me know if anyone was lying to me, twisting the truth, or hiding something. Using it and my owntruth sense, no one could lie to me. Fair? No. But that vital lesson of betrayal had been well learned.
Ojosannounced their arrival. The cats leaped off the sofa and meandered to the door at my feet. I grabbed a towel, opened the door, and nodded at the guard. “Thanks, Peewee. I’ll call when he’s ready to leave.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Eyes hard, she jutted her jaw at Villetti, a gesture meaning she had done her duty and was back on patrol, but she didn’t like the guy she had escorted up and wanted someone to stay on guard. So much in a single gesture.
I inclined my head just enough to show I understood.
Chapter Fourteen
Angie
Villetti entered my apartment, handed me two paper bags of food that smelled divine, accepted the towel without comment, draped it over his head, and rubbed his soaked hair with both hands. “Ahhh. Thanks.”
I didn’t ask myself how I had known ahead of time his hair was wet.
He peeled himself out of his damp winter coat and hung it on the ornate green metal hat and coat rack, as if he’d been here often.
“S?” he asked.
The coat rack had a fancySon the very top, like a finial, and each hat-spike was curved and curlicued like moreS’s. “Gift,” I said. “Vintage early nineteen hundreds.”
“Cats?”
“Two.”
“Thought you witches didn’t believe in familiars.”
“The cats believe in witches.”
Villetti grinned. Not cop Villetti. Not the war-ravaged-soul-from-a-dark-ops-division Villetti. This was boyfriend Villetti. From college. Young and carefree. He handed the towel to meand toed off his ice-covered shoes, shoving them near the door, his hair slinging forward over his eyes. I noted he still wore thick wool socks in winter, just as he had when we were together. This pair was black with brown turkeys all over them.
Something warm curled through me. It was kinda cute. Until I remembered how successful he’d been undercover. Villetti was good at games. He’d had to be to stay alive. I was part of his case.Is he playing me?I frowned before I could control it and went to the kitchen.
In the kitchen I poured hot water over the grounds in the French press. More over the leaves in the teapot and strainer. Opened the food, dividing it onto two plates. Placed cloth napkins and stainless steel utensils on the island, watching my uninvited guest who had come bearing gifts.
Villetti had seen my quick frown but he didn’t remark on it, instead walking around the apartment. When Aurora bumped his leg, asking for attention, he let her sniff his hand, then picked up the cat, where she cuddled in the crook of his elbow and started purring. Which she never did with anyone but me. And sometimes not me. I narrowed my eyes.Disloyal cat.
Except—Villetti would have read my sheet before he came over. I wondered if he had a trace of catnip in a pocket and on his fingers. I narrowed my eyes at him and leaned a hip against the kitchen counter, watching.
The cop and former lover looked at my belongings but didn’t touch. Touching things in a witch’s domicile could be hazardous, and I always had things lying around that would go boom if mishandled. He seemed to remember that danger.
But he walked around as if he was learning who I was by what I owned. Taking his time. Not looking at me. Letting me watch him. Maybe letting himself settle into whatever he was now, the not-a-cop, or the only-a-cop, in my apartment.
