Page 9 of Knot His Type

“Werewolf smut?” Sebastian asked, looking for once utterly lost. If I’d known I could have made the man look so confused, I would have brought up werewolf smut years ago. My dispatcher was quite the connoisseur.

After a moment, Sebastian got over the shock of learning there was such a thing as werewolf smut. He reasserted himself into the conversation. “Your dispatcher couldn’t keep up with my vigor.”

As he said this, the waitress from earlier heard him and nearly tripped over her own feet. Had I been in better spirits, I might have laughed.

“This is a dive,” I said after a moment.

“Astute,” Sebastian added. “Gods know why you insist on coming here.”

“It’s not your type of scene,” I continued, ignoring him.

“Indeed. I much prefer a more refined spectacle.”

“Which begs the question: why are you here bothering me?”

Sebastian leaned back in his seat, mimicking my pose, but looking much more regal as he did so. Like a panther having a pint with a grizzly bear. He crossed his legs, looking more like he belonged in some old London men’s club than a rundown bar in a forgettable town in the United States.

Of course, I saw through the deception. Sebastian might be all sleek lines and tailored perfection, but beneath that lay a man who could topple the most terrifying warlocks. While he surrounded himself with big, burly warlock tanks, Sebastian was a strong warlock beneath the crisp polish. Smoke and mirrors.

And now, as he adjusted the sleeves of his jacket, he was surveying me. Cataloging what weaknesses he might find. Looking for the soft bits.

Because Sebastian Cavanaugh was ready to take on anyone at anytime.

“They’re moving the bonding drugs through Mystic Springs again,” Sebastian said once he’d finished examining me.

I watched Sebastian, unmoving, trying to make sense of what he was saying. I didn’t doubt that the drugs were still out there somewhere, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. But Sebastian’s revelation still brought on a cold, ugly feeling in my gut.

I barely noticed as Sebastian motioned for the stumbling waitress, the woman all but scrambling to get to his side in record time.

“Another beer for my friend,” Sebastian said. “He’s looking a bit pale.”

“Tell me everything.” There was no sense in asking him how he knew. Sebastian was nearly omniscient in Mystic Springs, always watching what was going down. He did his best to control the town using a blend of force, money, and magic. The only other witchkind who had a better handle on what was going on in Mystic Springs was Rainbow Carmichael, the town’s resident gossipy witch.

“My men intercepted some of the drugs at a party last night. They tried to abscond with a witch there, but Meatball and Ram stopped them.”

I recognized the names Meatball and Ram as two of the tanks who were usually in Sebastian’s orbit. Big, meaty guys who helped police the town by brute force instead of magic, though that was in their arsenal as well.

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?” The cold sinking feeling in my stomach morphed into a pile of simmering coals. Each time I blinked, I could see Claire innocently heading home after work that day. Years later, she’d told me she’d been carrying a bag of books that she had just bought with her most recent paycheck. When they took her, she lost the bag. She’d laughed about it, but I recognized it as one of those things that victims focused on after the terror was over. She didn’t have to tell me she would never want to look at those particular books again.

“It just happened last night and, despite my handsome appearance, I have spent all morning beating the shit out of the guy until he could give me the information I needed.”

For the first time since Sebastian had sat down, my eyes slid to the man’s hands, resting atop his thighs. He’d cleaned and doctored his hands, but there were cuts and abrasions along the knuckles. I suspected that he’d had someone with a bit of healing magic attend the cuts so they wouldn’t be as nasty as they could have been.

Sebastian had more magic in his pinky finger than most warlocks who had been around for over a millennium. That didn’t keep him from enjoying the sport of taking someone down with his fists, though. I turned a blind eye to the fights Sebastian held at his club just outside town. I didn’t even think that Rainbow, with all her connections, knew about that little secret.

The waitress sat the beer before me with a smile and a wink, before delivering an even saucier wink Sebastian’s way. Sebastian gave her a wink as well, and the waitress stumbled once again before making her way back into the dive. I pushed the beer away from me, no longer wanting to drown the fire that was simmering in my belly. Sure, it would take the edge off, but I suddenly felt like I needed all the edge I could afford.

“What did you find out?” I asked, nodding toward the bloodied knuckles.

“For all the thumbscrews I used on the man, I couldn’t get much out of him,” Sebastian admitted and I wondered if he had actually used thumbscrews. “The best I could manage was that there are people in high places in Mystic Springs who are helping to move the drugs and the witches through the town with as little hassle as possible. The guy we caught was no doubt a grunt. Likely by design. That way, if someone caught him, he wouldn’t give away the names of his employers.”

“Where is this guy now?” I asked, already anticipating the answer.

“Not important,” Sebastian said, brushing an invisible piece of lint off his pants. “I don’t want this shit in my town, Beaumont.”

“This isn’t your town, Cavanaugh.”

“Isn’t it?”

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