Out of the Broomcloset Read online

  “But you think she needs help?”

  “She not only needs it, she deserves it. Michele’s a special woman. She’s Wiccan. She takes the ethical part of her religion very seriously. That’s part of the problem. She refuses to use magic to hurt anyone, including him. But he went over to the dark side, so to speak, so he doesn’t care who he hurts.”

  “What are you saying? She’s a good witch and he’s an evil sorcerer?”

  “That’s about right.”

  Vic smiled, and as unprofessional as it was, he just had to make a wisecrack. “Can’t she turn him into a toad or a new BMW?”

  Thankfully, Alex laughed. “I guess she’s already been fighting fire with fire. She thinks magic is the only reason she’s still alive.”

  “Well, I’d better know more about this fire they’re playing with.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know much about that. You should really talk to Michele. But, here’s the rub. I don’t want her to know I’ve hired your agency. She’s proud and stubborn, just like her mother was. Don’t get me wrong, she’s sweet as sugar, but she wants to stand on her own two feet. No interference. Besides, she thinks I don’t understand what Donovan can do and she’s right. She believes anyone near her is in imminent danger.”

  Vic frowned. “Well, how’s my guy supposed to do his job?”

  “I don’t know. Shadow her?”

  “We’d need to be closer than that if he makes a grab for her.”

  “Pretend to be interested in her, then. She’s a pretty girl.”

  “ . . . and make her think she has two stalkers?”

  “Look, you’ve gotta help her! I’ll pay extra.”

  “We don’t come cheap as it is.”

  “Doesn’t matter. She’s special. If you could meet her in person, you’d see what I mean. I’m e-mailing you her picture as we speak.”

  “It really doesn’t matter what she looks like. We have to evaluate each assignment on a case by case basis—objectively.”

  Yet, the lure of extra money was something Vic could never turn down. He made a very good living but his ex-wife’s alimony certainly cut into his paycheck. Not to mention, he was still paying for her past extravagances on maxed-out credit cards. Why she needed a full-length fur coat in friggin’ Florida, he had no idea.

  Vic might be stuck taking the assignment himself, even if it meant protecting Alex Blake’s nutbag stepdaughter.

  Vic’s computer showed that he had mail, subject: Michele Erikson. Curiosity niggled at him so he opened the attachment. Holy shit. She wasn’t just pretty. She was a knockout. Her body was perfection. Long, lithe and curvy. Her hair mimicked her body. Long blonde waves fell gracefully over her shoulders, and curved around her generous breasts. Silver jewelry adorned her delicate fingers, wrist and neck. She looked relaxed, as if completely comfortable with herself. Her eyes were cat-like and something about the way they gazed out of the monitor, bridging the distance as if she were able to see him, made his mouth go dry. Hopefully, she couldn’t read his filthy mind.

  “By the way, were you a football player too?” Alex asked.

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Back-up quarterback for the Cowboys and Dolphins.”

  “I love the game. That and golf,” Alex said.

  “I like people who understand sports. It’s a big part of how I look at life. It taught me discipline, focus, and I believe success is the result of hard work. I always give one hundred and ten percent.”

  “Good. I’ll give you one hundred and ten percent of your usual fee if you can keep her out of this madman’s clutches and do it without her knowledge.”

  Vic stared at Michele’s image. An uncharacteristic macho attitude surfaced. He imagined this stunning beauty clutching his shirt while he played the part of her white knight. Then he shook his head at his foolish self. “Let’s see if we can think of a way to make this work.”

  * * * * *

  “Michele, we’ve got the most powerful protection spell we know in place, so we’re re-opening as soon as I finish reading your cards, right?”

  “Depending on what they say . . .”

  Savern rolled her eyes and handed Michele the tarot deck to shuffle.

  A dozen candles bathed the room in light, which usually offered Michele a comfortable ambiance, but today she doubted that anything could comfort her. After cutting the deck, she selected ten cards and pushed them across the table to Savern.

  “So, you want the usual Celtic Cross reading?”

  “Please.”

  As Savern arranged the cards, Michele rested her chin in her cupped hand and leaned forward with concentration. Her mood darkened with each overturned card.

  Savern sat back and pointed to the cards in the center. “The Chariot in the reversed position, crossed by the Hanged Man.”

  “Damn! I knew it.” Michele shot to her feet. “He’s come to kill me!”

  “Hold on, girl. I’m reading the damn cards. Now, sit.”

  Michele blew out a deep breath and flopped back onto the chair.

  Savern continued. “You need to trust the cards and whoever reads them. Otherwise, your fear will kick in, and you’ll misinterpret the message. In other words, you’ll be on the run again all alone and possibly for no reason.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Michele raked her hands through her hair and tried to calm down. “So what do you see?”

  “I read the hanging man as a stop to the chariot. This is about you. In other words, stop running away!”

  “That means I have to fight him, and you know I can’t do that. The Rede says . . .”

  “I know what the Rede says, girl. ‘If it harm none, do what ye will.’ How is stopping this maniac harmful?”

  “For one thing, we both have boomerang spells in place. I can’t bind him, or put a curse on him. Whatever I do to him, I do to myself!”

  “You wouldn’t hex him, anyway,” Savern said. “I know you.”

  A loud rap on the front door made both young women jump a foot in their seats.

  “Don’t answer it,” Michele whispered.

  “Of course I’m going to answer it.” Savern stood, and jammed her hands on her hips. “Get a hold of yourself, girl. You’re making me crazy.”

  “If you see a tall, skinny guy with long medium brown hair, pierced ear, and a snake tattoo on his neck, don’t open the door.”

  “Fine.” Savern peered down the corridor to the front door. She whistled, raised her eyebrows, and turned to Michele.

  “Two hot guys are at the door, and one of them is Alex.”

  With a chuckle, Savern disappeared. A few moments later Michele could hear the bell jingle as the door opened. Then she heard Alex’s voice and what sounded like introductions. If Alex and a cop were out there, it would be reasonable to leave her protective cavern.

  Michele inched down the hall. When she determined that Donovan wasn’t around the corner, she emerged into the main room, and the two men turned toward her. Alex smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. The other man straightened to his full height providing her with a clear view of his drop-dead gorgeous face and body.

  Hot guys? Well, one of them sure was. The other one was her stepdad. Ewww.

  “Hi, honey.” Alex came up beside her, gave her a kiss on the cheek and a side-hug.

  Michele touched his silver temples in a gentle gesture. “Am I giving you a few more gray hairs, Alex?”

  He smiled and stepped away. He gestured to the tall, dark-haired, well-muscled guy. Thirty-something, he possessed a ruggedly handsome face. He wore a crisp white shirt, open at the collar, and pressed khaki trousers. His thick black eyelashes set off his light hazel eyes. If she opened her mouth, she’d drool. The word delicious popped into her mind.

  “Vic, this is Michele, my stepdaughter.”

  “Nice to meet you, Michele.”

  His voice was deep and resonated within her. His vibes were good, but it was even more than that. Had they met before?

  His
hand enclosed hers. Electricity quivered in her arm and her hand tingled. She noticed his white teeth against his deep golden tan, and his firm, warm, self-confident grasp. She also noticed that neither of them let go too soon.

  “Hi,” Michele said. “Are you a detective?”

  “No, just a friend of Alex’s. He told me about you and your shop. I thought I’d take a look.” Vic glanced around and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Did you decorate it yourselves?”

  “Yeah. We call it Gothic on the Cheap. The walls and floor are faux, painted to look like stone. The shelves were scaffolding planks that we antiqued and chained to the walls . . .”

  “Before we get into the shop,” Alex interrupted, “I was hoping you could give Vic some information on your Donovan Grant situation. His sister went through the same thing, and he knows from experience what to do.”

  Michele held Vic’s gaze, but spoke to her stepfather. “Alex, how much did you tell him?”

  “Enough. He offered to talk to you and give you the benefit of his expertise. I think you should listen.”

  “Damn it, Alex!”

  “Look, Michele, we’re both sick and tired of Donovan Grant. Vic owns a security agency. Let him help.” Alex slapped Vic on the back.

  She crossed her arms in front of her. “Do you think anyone can help in this particular situation?”

  Vic took a step closer and began rolling up his sleeves. “If anyone can, Michele, I can.”

  There was something deeply sexy about the way he said her name. She looked Vic up and down. He looked like he could keep anyone ‘secure.’ Anyone but her. She’d love to be held in those strong arms some night, but not right now. Bad timing.

  She’d have to run. No one—even someone who owned a security agency—even the sexiest man in Daytona Beach, could keep her here. To let him think he could fight this maniac and live to tell about it would be completely dishonest. She wouldn’t be foolish enough to pit him against Donovan. It would be wonderful to have some help with this, though, if only . . .

  She took a good look at Vic’s physique and estimated him at about six foot-two, broad shoulders, fit, and oh, those tan muscular arms revealing themselves as he rolled up his sleeves. The way he stood, relaxed yet with his muscles still bulging . . .

  The flutter in her stomach made it almost impossible to turn him away without at least having one, long, last look. “Fine, I’ll talk to him. Let’s go in the back.”

  Chapter 2

  Vic followed her into the office. Instead of sitting where she gestured, on the opposite side of a small card table, he pulled the chair to the side so he could see the door and protect her from anyone who came through it.

  Michele had begun relighting the candles, but paused and raised one eyebrow. “Are you worried that Donovan might burst through that door as we’re talking?”

  “Just erring on the side of caution like I always do,” he said. He gazed into her warm amber brown eyes and noticed the way they reflected the golden glow of the candlelight. He realized he was staring, and looked away, but his eyes returned to her of their own volition. She had awakened something in him—a long forgotten desire, which he hadn’t felt for quite a while.

  He cleared his throat. “Is there a light switch in here?”

  “Yes. I’d rather not turn it on, though. I feel more relaxed in the candlelight. So how do you know my stepfather?”

  “We golf together, and I’m a regular at his pro shop. He knew I owned a security company and told me about your situation because he wanted my advice. Be nice to him. He just wants to help.” He was reassured by her relaxed attentiveness. Whew. She looked like she was buying it.

  “That sounds like Alex. I guess I don’t mind advice, as long as he lets me decide whether or not I’ll take it.”

  Vic watched her body language. He saw a beautiful girl who was comfortable in her own realm. Her taut, exposed arms rested casually by her sides. She looked at him directly with her probing, golden, cat-like stare, and he swallowed hard. It was as if she could see right into his soul. He sensed some kind of force, not only in her, but in something around them. The room? Careful Vic. Don’t buy into this magic bullshit.

  He hoped his questions wouldn’t arouse suspicion, yet he couldn’t help thinking about arousing her in other ways. He’d love to feel those full, round breasts and glide his hand down her firm torso to her . . .

  Get a hold of yourself, man. She’s a client. She doesn’t know it yet, but you know it. Mirroring her relaxed pose, he tried to appear nonchalant. “So, what makes you afraid of Grant?”

  She shifted her eyes to the cards on the table. “Three years ago I met Donovan when we were both studying advanced Wicca. It includes knowledge of ancient magic handed down through generations, but Donovan and I took it in opposite directions.

  “After we had already become, um . . . close, he went into the dark arts. I told him he was crazy for tempting Karma.” Michele bit her lower lip.

  Vic nodded. “How about you? What does Wicca mean to you?”

  “I was in it for the beautiful, spiritual, earth religion of our ancestors. I wanted to grow closer to the Goddess. I wanted to study ancient wisdom before it was all lost.”

  “And why did Donovan take it in another direction?”

  “He was only interested in gaining the power that magic could give him, particularly power over other people. He forgot the first basic principle—never use magic to do harm or secretly manipulate others. That’s black magic and it will come back on the sender threefold. He said he didn’t believe it. That the rule of three was just a myth. He experimented with what he called ‘gray magic’. He said he could handle it without getting warped or paid back by Karma.” She looked up at Vic and frowned. “Believe me, as his gray magic turned to black, he got warped.”

  Vic folded his arms and leaned his chair back on two legs. “So what did he try to do to you?”

  “You might not want to test the strength of that chair. All of our furniture came from second-hand shops. We run The Enchanted Broom on a shoestring budget.”

  Vic set the chair legs back down immediately. “Sorry. So, what did this guy do to you?”

  She sighed. “Well, after we broke up, just phone calls. I tried to be nice and let him down easy, but he became bolder, more insistent. I had to become more assertive. It’s not a natural thing for me, so I kind of botched it.”

  “I don’t think you would have gotten rid of him even if you were an expert at assertiveness. Don’t blame yourself for this. If you tell a man to leave you alone, he should. Period. But guys like this—they don’t think limits apply to them.”

  She gave him a weak smile and nodded. “Well, nothing I said mattered. He insisted that we were going to change the world together and that he would have me in the end. Then, there was no contact for about a week. I had hoped he finally understood or was trying to give me some space. Either he changed his mind, or he was preparing his plan to persuade me.”

  “More likely planning. Obsession doesn’t appear or disappear suddenly.”

  “There’s something he wants. He thinks I know where it is. I’ve told him I don’t, but he won’t believe me. He knows I’ve seen it.”

  “Some thing? Like an object?”

  “Yes. It’s a very powerful object. I can’t tell you what it is for your own protection. Naturally it’s well hidden and guarded.”

  Yeah, right. Vic tried to school his expression and formulate his next question. Michele was scrutinizing him as if she knew he was a doubter.

  “Did Donovan have a troubled past?”

  Michele fiddled with one of her many silver rings. “Yeah. His parents abused him, and he was sort of passed around after that. He wound up in some rough foster homes. I should’ve expected something might be left over from his childhood—some need for power in his powerless world. I should have seen the signs.”

  Vic gentled his voice. “Nobody knows what they’re getting into, or they’d run a mile as soo
n as they meet one of these sick jerks.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “He probably lavished you with attention and convinced you that he really cared about you. Of course, you’re probably used to that and didn’t see it coming. You’re a beautiful woman. I’m sure you’ve had your share of positive attention from men.”

  She looked so vulnerable. Vic wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her that he’d protect her and keep her safe. Get ahold of yourself, man. You’re a professional, not a love-struck kid.

  “Well, whatever he was doing,” she said, “I didn’t see him for a while, so I began to relax and let down my guard.”

  Vic nodded. When she didn’t say more, he decided to ask a couple of loaded questions. “So what makes you think he’s been using dark magic, and more importantly, does he think you’ve been using your knowledge against him?”

  She picked up a braided cord that had been sitting on a shelf next to her and fingered a few of the equidistant knots. Vic noticed that she had long, smooth fingers and even her slightest movements were graceful.

  “I’m a true believer in the power of magic. Only a fool casts black magic at another witch.”

  He shifted in his seat. “Why is that?”

  “That rule of three I just told you about. You know how the sender will get the negative energy back three times? Plus, most witches have a boomerang spell in place. I do. So does he. To curse another witch who’s protected this way is like asking for the curse to come back on you—it’s an instant ‘return to sender’ command.”

  What a pile of horseshit. “And you believe that?”

  “Yes, I do. It prevents me from sending the curses or hexes I might be tempted to throw at Donovan in a weak moment.” She tossed her long, golden mane over one shoulder. “I actually tested the theory of three by accident. I tried to boost the Karma to combat his dark magic three times three—in other words, nine times. I didn’t realize I was messing with the natural order of things, although I should have. After that, Donovan came too close for comfort—three times. I had to undo the spell. Now I just cast spells to protect myself.”