Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(25)
“And you are—” the questioning tone was cut off as Callie smacked the open flask against Nicole’s sternum. The woman’s face paled, but Callie’s palm immediately began to cool and feeling quickly returned to her fingers. As the magic metal-and-stone container did its thing, a fluttering sensation blossomed in her sternum. It was as though feathers were grazing the insides of her rib cage. Unnerving, but also … reassuring? She pulled the flask back, capped it, and looked at Derek.
He was beaming. Not the smarmy Rico Suave look he’d given the camera earlier, but a “you’ve got to be shitting me” grin. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and that didn’t have a thing to do with soul magic. Callie averted her gaze and, thankfully, the blood rush quelled.
Derek stepped backward a couple paces, ready to beat feet. “Thanks, Nicole, but I think we’re all set here. See you next time.”
Nicole’s cheeks regained a hint of color, but she didn’t say anything as he moved away. She cast a bewildered gaze in Callie’s direction, but Callie was more worried about following her ride than the spurned soul renter.
They hurried toward his bike, and as Callie neared him she heard him mutter, “Can’t keep her damn hands to herself.”
“Not your favorite client?” Callie asked, not bothering to hide her amusement.
“None of them are my clients.” He scrubbed his hand against his bicep, as though to remove the memory of her touch.
“That’s not really an answer.” One really shouldn’t poke at lumbering beasts, but sometimes the temptation was too much.
He rounded on her. “No, I don’t like her. Better?”
No, his answer didn’t give her enough. He was the Charmer’s thug. Why would he let her manhandle him if he didn’t like it?
As if he could read her thoughts, he added, “Not everyone needs a rough touch to return what’s ours.”
Callie bet that woman wouldn’t have minded a rough touch from Derek. And he sure as hell hadn’t given McCabe the soft sell the night before. Goddamn it, heat was flooding her cheeks again. Luckily, they’d reached Derek’s bike and he was already strapping on his helmet. Callie put hers on as well, and willed herself to stop thinking about the pleasurable ways Derek could be rough. She’d watched him flip into violent mode in a split second, and he could do the same with charm. Maybe her trust in him was less warranted. The thought slowed her thundering heart.
Callie didn’t bother asking where they were going, or who the next target was. She slung her leg over the motorcycle and scooted closer to him. She tried to take his strength via hug osmosis again, but it wasn’t the same. Her mind buzzed with new questions about Derek, the business, and, most of all, its clients. What was Nicole’s deal? She didn’t work in the noblest profession or the nicest area, but that meant exactly jack shit. Callie made food for old people and got paid fifty cents above minimum wage. Though, her pay was set to bump up another quarter if she made it to the end of the year. If, you know, she didn’t get arrested working for the Soul Charmer, or Ford, or Lord knew whom else.
Derek drove them to the Arts District. Banners proclaiming new shows by local painters hung from lampposts, while sandwich boards atop the brick sidewalk directed tourists to the brochure-worthy galleries. Callie hadn’t been in the area, other than passing through, in years. Hell, the last time she’d visited the district she wasn’t old enough to drive.
He parked the motorcycle beneath an iron street lamp. Its safety was less in jeopardy here than any of the other places they’d visited thus far. She dismounted and tried to guess their next stop. The Sofia Museum was across the street. The wide windows set into whitewashed building turned grandiose under floodlights. The twenty-four-hour security was merely a shadow at the structure’s corner. It displayed local art, and served wine. She’d never been there. The Gem Museum was on the next block. The name confused the hell out of tourists. It wasn’t one for fans of rocks and minerals. Instead it showcased relics from the Native American tribe on the nearby pueblo.
Callie’d visited several times on field trips as a kid. Josh hadn’t attended those, so few memories stuck, but she did remember asking a teacher why they didn’t name the museum after the people whose work it proudly displayed. She’d been chided for her “rude question.” As an adult, she’d guess the name had more to do with city officials being dicks than anything else. If one thing was consistent in Gem City, it was that the politicians weren’t the most upright folk. The fact they could partake in the Soul Charmer’s services now wasn’t likely to help matters. If proof soul magic facilitated crime finally made it to the legislature, Gem City would go downhill fast. How quickly would the church extricate itself?
“What’s next?” Callie asked, mostly to distract herself. It was that or ogle Derek, and given their current situation, that wasn’t going to help anyone.
“We find Casey.” He loped off to the north, away from the Gem Museum. When Callie didn’t immediately follow, he reached back to grab her hand, pulling her forward. When she reached his side, he threw his arm across her shoulders. The leather of his jacket pressed against the nape of her neck, covering the gap where a scarf would have warmed her, if she’d thought to wear one. The weight pressed down on her shoulders, but somehow it made her want to stand taller. Safety wasn’t so simple for her, but on this street, right now, no one would touch her.