Semi-Charmed Page 7

  Riddick felt a muscle in his jaw tense inadvertently, and he silently cursed himself. That was exactly the kind of weakness Hart was hoping to see.

  Any hope Hart hadn’t seen the little tell was annihilated when he let out a short bark of laughter. “Why, Noah Riddick, I’m shocked. I never thought I’d see the day you’d let a woman make you weak.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s not your average woman.”

  Hart lifted one brow. “Indeed? Well, I suppose I’ll find out when I have her bent over that work table.”

  The last syllable had barely left the vampire’s mouth before Riddick gave up trying to talk his way out of the situation and smashed his forearm into Hart's throat.

  It had been a boring conversation anyway.

  The blow sent Hart reeling sideways, gagging. Riddick used Hart's momentary preoccupation to rid himself of the younger vamp.

  As the young vampire lunged at him, Riddick unsheathed the stake scabbarded in his boot top and pitched it overhand. The stake struck its target—the forehead, not the heart, as long as Harper was watching—precisely, burrowing deep into the vamp's skull. A river of blood trickled out of his ears and down his neck before he crumpled to the ground, motionless. It’d take days for a newly dead vamp to recover from a blow like that one, Riddick realized with a grisly smile.

  On a rush of pure adrenaline, he spun back towards Hart. Unfortunately, the century-old vamp had recovered from the blow to his throat and had murder in his eyes.

  "You're fucking dead," Hart whispered through clenched teeth.

  “I've heard that before."

  Hart moved surprisingly fast for a dead guy. His text-book perfect roundhouse kick caught Riddick in the solar plexus. Riddick flew back several feet, smacking the back of his head on the concrete wall behind him.

  He forced a smile even as he felt a trickle of blood ease its way down the back of his shirt. "You still hit like a girl, Hart."

  This time when Hart came at him with a right hook he was ready. Riddick caught Hart’s wrist and snapped it backward in the same motion. Then, because he was pissed off, he head-butted the bastard.

  The shock of the broken bone and the head wound would’ve knocked an average human into a coma, but unfortunately, Hart wasn’t human. Or normal.

  Hart shook his head like a wounded bear and came at him again. But before Riddick could decide whether or not to snap his spine like a twig before staking him just for meanness, the decision was taken out of his hands permanently.

  An arrow whistled past Riddick’s left ear and struck Hart right between the eyes. Hart looked to Riddick with wide, shocked eyes before he keeled over sideways, his head hitting the concrete with a satisfying, hollow thud.

  Riddick turned slowly, his eyes following the path the arrow had taken. He wasn’t at all surprised to find Harper where it began.

  With her legs braced apart and the crossbow held high with steady hands, her eyes still narrowed on her target, Harper looked like an avenging angel come to usher in the end of the world and unleash hell.

  She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He’d never before wanted to kill and fuck a woman all at the same time. It was more than a little troubling.

  “Nice shot,” he finally conceded.

  She lowered the crossbow. “You’re not mad?”

  “Mad’s not exactly the right word for what I feel right now, Harper.”

  Harper bit her lower lip. “Oh, boy, you’re really mad, huh? Look, I’m sorry. After I got Dylan out, I just thought you could use some help, and since there was only one vamp left…crap!” She spun away from him. “I left the kid alone! We’ll have to talk about this later,” she called out as she wiggled through the window again.

  Riddick blew out a deep breath. If she had any idea what he was thinking, she’d never talk to him again. In fact, she’d probably run screaming in the opposite direction.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Do you see him?”

  Riddick winced as Harper dabbed at the wound at the base of his skull with more enthusiasm than necessary. Harper gave a sympathy wince. “Sorry.”

  He snatched the tissue from her hand. “No, I don’t see him.”

  They were parked outside of the hospital so Harper could catch a glimpse of Dylan when his parents took him home. He’d been in there for over two hours.

  “Do you think they’re keeping him overnight? For observation or something?”

  He shrugged out of his jacket and glanced at the knife wound on his arm. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Harper looked over at him and sucked in air. “Holy crap, Riddick, you didn’t tell me you were hurt bad!”

  His gaze rose to hers and his brow furrowed. She rolled her eyes. Obviously, he didn’t consider a bone-deep slash bad.

  She reached over him and grabbed a roll of gauze and some tape from the glove box. At his quizzical glance she shrugged one shoulder. “Normal people keep maps in the glove box. Seers keep first aid supplies there.”

  She brushed his hands away when he tried to take the gauze from her. Winding the bandage around his arm, she reminded him that since he refused to let a professional take care of him, he’d have to clean the cut properly when he got home.

  Home to his sterile, cold, TV-less apartment. She’d go home to her huge stack of bills and the very real possibility of a foreclosure on her building. And there was really no reason why she’d have to see Riddick again now that Dylan was safe.

  “Tell me again why we’re here.”

  Harper cleared her throat to dislodge the lump that had inexplicably settled there. “I just want to make sure Dylan gets home okay.”

  “We waited with him until the police were close by. Hart and his buddies are in jail. Phoenix will probably go to ground for a while. I’m sure Dylan’s fine.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “I guess I just wish we could have done more.”

  He frowned. “You saved his life. What more did you want to do?”

  Harper pulled off a piece of tape with her teeth and secured Riddick’s makeshift bandage. “I hate it that we had to hide when the police got there. I hate it that we had to tell Dylan not to mention us to anyone. I miss the old days when we could’ve ridden in the ambulance with him and kept him company until his parents got there. When Sentry would have taken care of protecting our identities so that we wouldn’t have to even think about it. You know?”

  “I know.”

  The warmth in his voice caught her off guard. She looked up and her gaze locked on his. What she read in his eyes was thrilling and terrifying all at once. It was more than just simple heat and desire. It was…hunger, longing, need.

  An answering hunger had her slowly leaning toward him, toward the body heat she was already close enough to feel. He was so close, so beautiful.

  And he wouldn’t turn her away. She knew that to be true. She could feel it. All she had to do was tilt her head upward ever so slightly, brush her lips against his, and all that heat could be hers…

  The driver’s side door was suddenly yanked open and Harper tumbled out onto the pavement. Mouth open in shock, Harper found herself flat on her back on the sidewalk, looking up at a very large, very angry police detective.

  “Lucas,” she squeaked. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Lucas bent down, grabbed her wrist, and hauled her to her feet. His cheeks were mottled and she could practically see steam rising off his head.

  He paced in front of her as she leaned back against the car. Every now and then he’d stop, point a finger at her, open his mouth, then shake his head, mumble something unintelligible, and start pacing again.

  It was truly an amazing sight. She’d pissed off a lot of men in her day, but this was the first time she’d ever struck one mute.

  She glanced over at Riddick who’d settled himself Indian-style on the hood of her car. He was looking at Lucas with something akin to sympathy. At least as close to that particular emotion as Riddick was probably capable.


  “Look at me, damn it.”

  Harper’s gaze snapped back to Lucas, who had stopped directly in front of her, hands on hips. His eyes glowed yellow so briefly, Harper wondered if she'd imagined it until Riddick said, “Get it under control, man, or get the hell away from her.”

  Harper blinked, immediately realizing what Riddick meant. He thought Lucas was in danger of shifting.

  Lucas closed his eyes and took a step back, along with a few deep breaths.

  “I don’t even really know where to start with you, Harper,” he eventually said, his voice breaking a little on her name. He paused and sucked in another deep breath. “Why don’t you tell me where you were tonight. Both of you.”

  She swallowed hard. She’d always been a lousy liar. “Riddick and I were…” Christ, why did all the alibis that popped into her head involve nudity and semi-lewd acts? “…visiting my friend, Mischa. I dropped my dog off at her place for a while.” At least that last part was true, she thought.

  Lucas stared at her for a full minute, and by sheer force of will she managed to keep her gaze from shifting away from his eyes.

  “And why are you here?”

  She gulped. “Riddick hurt his arm. I’m trying to convince him to have it looked at.”

  Lucas looked over at Riddick, who held up his injured arm helpfully.

  Lucas narrowed his eyes on Riddick. “And I guess you’ll corroborate her story.”

  Riddick shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Lucas snorted and turned back to Harper. “Oh, that’s just fucking great. Christ. You two could have been killed, and you could’ve gotten the kid killed. Going into that place without backup was reckless and stupid. And I hope your friend doesn’t mind lying to the cops since your pretty little ass is in need of an official alibi.”

  She flinched. He was right, of course. It hadn’t even occurred to her that Mischa might have to make an official statement. Damn it, she hadn’t thought any of this through.

  Lucas nodded. “There we go. Remorse: that’s what I wanted to see.” He shoved away from her. “Next time, I want you to remember this feeling, and don’t go all vigilante on me. Think before you act, God damn it. And call me.

  Now I have to go lie to my Captain and say we have no leads at all on this thing, and that what the boy told us must be true.”

  He turned and started back toward the hospital through the ambulance bay. “Wait a minute,” Harper called after him.

  He faced her again, but kept walking backward away from her.

  “What did the kid say?”

  “He said an Angel saved him.”

  Harper couldn’t help but smile at that.

  “Oh, and Harper? Since technically you were with your friend tonight, you won’t get the reward for the rescue.”

  That wiped the smile right off her face.

  Lucas laughed. “Later, doll face.”

  When he was gone, Harper and Riddick slid back into the car. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry,” she said.

  Riddick eased back in the seat and rolled his head towards her. “You know he’s crazy about you, right?”

  He didn’t sound at all jealous, and that bugged Harper a little. Okay, more than a little. Not that she’d ever admit it aloud.

  “I wouldn’t say he’s crazy about me.”

  Riddick snorted. “You should cut him a break and go out with him.”

  Okay, now she was pissed. One minute he was almost kissing her—or was she almost kissing him?—and the next he was telling her to go out with someone else. “Well, maybe I would if he’d ever ask me,” she snapped.

  “He’s probably just intimidated.”

  She frowned. “By me?”

  He gave her the well-duh look she thought she’d cornered the market on.

  “I’m not intimidating,” she scoffed. “I’m very approachable.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re brave and gorgeous and you have super powers. How’s the poor bastard supposed to not be intimidated?”

  He wasn’t looking at her when he’d said it. It was almost as if he’d said exactly what was on his mind without thinking about it at all. The casual comment lodged her breath in her throat and made her heart skip a beat. He thought she was gorgeous.

  “He has super powers too,” she reminded him.

  He snorted. “Shifting into a big dog isn’t a super power.”

  “I knew it! He is a wolf. How can you tell?”

  “I can smell it. Can’t you?”

  Lucas had always just smelled like soap and cologne to her. “No, but—”

  “Hey,” Riddick interrupted, sitting up straighter. “There he is.”

  Giving herself a mental smack across the face, she followed his gaze and saw Dylan’s parents carrying him out of the hospital. He had a bandage around his wrist and another on his neck, but other than that, he looked thankfully, blessedly okay.

  They watched as his parents loaded him into their car. “You think he’ll be okay?”

  “His parents seem…good. I’m sure they’ll help him through this.”

  She’d had an incredibly supportive mother who would have thrown herself on a live grenade if it meant saving Harper one minute of the pain her premonitions caused, and she hadn’t turned out that well, Harper thought, remembering the stack of bills on her counter…and the vigilante justice she’d just dispensed with Riddick.

  She wondered about Riddick’s parents, but didn’t ask. He probably wouldn’t tell her anything anyway. And judging by his lifeless apartment and complete lack of social graces, she felt pretty safe in assuming they hadn’t helped him overcome too much in his life.

  “Good luck, Dylan,” she whispered.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Riddick urged gently.

  Harper swiped at her suspiciously moist eyes and turned the key. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

  Chapter Twelve

  An hour later, Harper was sitting on Mischa’s sofa. Riddick had barely said a word to her on the way to his apartment and had mumbled only a half-hearted goodbye when he’d gotten out of her car. And for some reason, Harper had spent more time talking about that than the kid she’d helped save and the vamps they’d fought.

  She was not at all normal.

  Mischa set a tray of milk and Oreos on the table in front of the sofa and settled herself next to Harper, tucking her feet underneath her. “So then what happened?”

  “He got out of the car, and I yelled, ‘you’re welcome’ out the window, then he was gone.”

  The dog pawed impatiently at her leg, but before Harper could bend down and pick her up, Mischa snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor.

  “Cane, sit,” she said, her voice stern without being mean.

  The dog immediately plopped down on her round little butt and gazed up at Mischa, adoration plain in her big brown eyes.

  Harper frowned. “You trained an abused street beagle to sit in a few hours?”

  She shrugged. “Dogs are pack animals. They want a strong pack leader.”

  Great. As if her self-esteem wasn’t low enough after the incident with Riddick, now she doubted her ability to be a good role model for a street beagle. Then something else occurred to her. “Cane?”

  “It’s Italian for dog.” She looked sheepish. “It’s all I could come up with.”

  It suited her, Harper decided. Not too feminine, but not exactly butch either.

  “So why did you say, ‘you’re welcome’?” Mischa asked.

  “I do something nice for him or even save his life, he totally ignores me, and I yell, ‘you’re welcome’.” She sighed. “It’s kind of our thing.”

  Mischa shook her head. “Some couples have a special song. You two have ‘you’re welcome’. Interesting.”

  “We’re not a couple. He barely speaks to me.”

  “He barely speaks to anyone. He worked for me for years and he’s said more to you in the past two days than he ever said to me.” Her dark eyes moved
over Harper curiously. “I think he likes you.”

  Harper felt her cheeks heat at the prospect. “Whatever he thinks of me, he obviously isn’t interested in being my partner, so I guess I’m back to square one.” Which, by her calculations, meant she was royally screwed.

  “That’s for the best. Like I said, he’s unpredictable. You’re better off without him.”

  Harper considered Mischa without comment. It was unlike her to be so adamant and so vague all at the same time. “So, what do you have against him? What’s his story?”

  Mischa bit her bottom lip. “I don’t guess you’ll let this go anytime soon?”

  Harper merely raised a brow.

  She sighed. “All right. I’ll tell you. But you have to keep this to yourself. This is classified.”

  Harper fought the urge to roll her eyes. Sentry didn’t even exist anymore. How could any of their info be classified?

  “You’re not going to like this, but just hear me through, all right?”

  Harper only nodded, too curious to heed her little inner voice, which was telling her she didn’t really want to hear what her friend was about to say.

  “Slayers aren’t the same as seers. You seers are all born with your abilities. Sentry just seeks you out and…hones your skills, makes you more accurate.”

  She paused, and Harper felt her heartbeat kick up. If Mischa was having trouble choosing her words, the conversation couldn’t possibly be going anywhere good.

  “There are actually two kinds of slayers,” Mischa went on. “There’s chosen slayers, and then there are natural-born slayers.

  Chosen slayers are hand-picked by Sentry. They’re pretty much the lowest common denominator of society. Criminals with violent histories, the jobless, the friendless, those with no families or loved ones…pretty much anyone who wouldn’t be missed if he was killed.”

  If she didn’t know Mischa, Harper would have been shocked at the callousness of her words. But Harper knew her well enough to realize that Mischa cared very much about her charges. Maybe even too much.