Wicked Edge (Realm Enforcers, #2)(11)

The combination only turned him on, which made absolutely no sense. He liked quiet, sweet, structured women. “The mines in Russia are public knowledge; the mines here are not.” He’d figured she’d check out the secret mines first, and the bet had paid off. “What do you want with the Fryser Island mines, Cee Cee? If that’s your real name.”

“It is.” She slid the glasses down her forehead to protect her eyes. The wind rolled dark clouds in from the sea, and the temperature instantly dropped further. “At least, that’s what my mother called me.”

“The mines?”

She shrugged, the movement oddly sensual. “I’m hunting a demon with strong connections to your people and your mines. You own two of the four here, and he owns the other two. Apparently this mine of yours is truly not producing.”

“I don’t deal with demons,” he said, trying to keep derision from his tone. Truth be told, until he’d gotten to know Logan recently, he’d never liked a demon. “Who are you, ah, hunting?” It was hard to imagine the petite blonde hunting anybody, but looks were obviously misleading.

She just stared at him, no expression on her smooth face.

“Who are you?” he asked softly.

She blinked, as if not expecting the question. “Nobody you need to worry about, Enforcer.” She slid one very small boot toward the sprawling snowmobile.

“You became my business the moment you drugged me and stole my files as well as the private files of a member of the Coven Nine.” The second she’d smiled at him, he’d been in a constant state of arousal. “What did you drug me with?”

She craned her neck toward the empty ignition slot and then sighed. “It was a horse sedative with a few tweaks. Quantum physics at its finest.”

He widened his stance and fought a shiver as the blackened clouds started to cover the meager sun. “You hired a witch to alter the sedative and take me down.”

“Not all witches belong to the Coven Nine,” she murmured.

No shit. One of them was sprawled, unconscious, on the ice in front of him. “I’m well aware.”

She smiled. “You’re fine, with no permanent damage, so how about we call it even?”

Even? His chin lowered as his temper tried to spike. “You’re joking.”

“No.” She mirrored his stance and planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to fight you.” Turning slightly, she glanced toward the empty orange building, revealing a wicked bruise along her jawline.

“Holy f*ck.” He moved before thinking, prowling toward her through the swirling snow, cupping her jaw. The bruise was too fresh for him to have done it the other night, thank God.

She tried to step back, and the snowmobile stopped her. “I’m fine.”

Rage, the real kind, roared through him. He released her and took a quick step away before fire flared through his right glove, burning it away. Taking several deep breaths, he quelled his temper and the flame.

Her mouth formed a perfect O.

Keeping her gaze, he drew a knife from his boot.

She paled. “Wh—”

“He dies,” Daire said, turning toward the prone witch.

“No.” Cee Cee rushed toward him, grabbing his arm. “It was a fair fight, and then you knocked him out. Why would you kill him?”

Daire stilled. The entire world halted, and he touched her with his now bare hand, running a finger along the darkening bruise. “For this.” Gladly. Her skin was softer than silk and twice as fragile. Snow licked against her surprisingly dark eyelashes and melted on her nose.

Her finely arched eyebrows drew down, and she leaned back against the snowmobile, breaking his hold. “Um, we’re enemies. You get that, right?”

“Aye.” It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at the moment but avenging that purple mark on her face. “But I wouldn’t do that to you. Ever.”

She tilted her head to the side, confusion all but rolling from her. “So you’re basically harmless to me.”

He chuckled, even pissed off. “Oh, I didn’t say that.” She’d tell him everything he wanted to know, but he’d never punch a woman. He turned back toward the immediate problem.

“Daire, please do not kill him,” she whispered.

He sighed. “Why the hell not?”

“There’s been enough death, don’t you think?” She pushed the glasses up her head again, her eyes onyx jewels. “No more.”

The war had ended a little more than a year before, and too many immortals had died. Yet when he again glanced at the bruise on her face, he wanted to draw blood. He needed to harm the witch on the ground. But it didn’t have to be today, and it didn’t have to happen in front of Cee Cee. His chest hitched. “Well now, what kind of deal shall we strike?” he asked.

She swallowed. “I’ll return your deeds and surveys to you, as well as the documents taken from Simone Brightston.”

He smiled. “I assume they’re in the backpack you’re still wearing, and I believe I can get them if I so choose.” He faced her fully, more than a little curious how far she’d go. What would the little temptress offer?

Her nostrils flared, and a little color returned to her angled cheeks. “Fine. How about I don’t melt your brain out of your skull?”