Defensive Magic: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 3) by Kate Baray Page B
Authors: Kate Baray
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her. Even on the worst of days, Lizzie could make him smile. He kissed her hand, then let her fingers go. “Call Pilar before you try again, okay?”
She wouldn’t leave it. Her curiosity alone was enough to keep her digging, not to mention the fact that Logan had asked her to do it. She’d feel some sense of obligation to see it through for his sake, as well. She’d promised not to experiment with the book alone, but he didn’t think that was enough.
“Definitely,” she readily agreed, apparently unruffled by his request.
After they’d been on the road a few minutes, he said, “I almost forgot. The reason we’re in a rush—Max pulled a gun on a smartass pack member who was shooting off his mouth. We have legitimate avenues for complaint, and calling me an irresponsible douche in a public place doesn’t actually meet any of those requirements.”
Horror and humor warred momentarily on Lizzie’s face. Humor must have won, because by the time his eyes were back on the road, he could hear her laughing.
“Ohmygosh,” she gasped. Laughter gurgled up again.
“Take a breath before you hyperventilate.” Out of the corner of his eye, John could see she was almost doubled over in her seat.
After a few minutes, she wiped the tears away from her eyes. “I cannot believe any of the Pack would say something so, so”—she grappled for the right word—“so stupid. What an asshat.”
John choked. “Asshat?”
“Well, he is, isn’t he?”
“He is,” John agreed with a cheeky grin. “Although no one in the Pack would ever dare to actually call me a douche. Max summarized and added a little flair.”
“Same difference,” she replied staunchly.
His grin broadened. “I love you.”
“I know,” she replied smugly.
And he was okay. He’d show up, kick the crap out of Evan so he’d think twice about publicly disrespecting him again—but not so badly he was humiliated. He’d speak with the Council to affirm their support and discuss the offer he’d made to David. He’d get his plan rolling for rooting out the origin of the rumor mill. And he’d look into the possibility that spell casters could promote some type of altered state in Lycan similar to alcohol intoxication. But all in all, everything was okay.
Chapter 9
“L izzie, meet Ben Emmerson, one of the Pack’s enforcers and a good friend of mine.” Lizzie squinted up at the towering, redheaded man John was introducing. Ben recognized her dilemma and immediately took several steps to his right so that the last of the setting sun wasn’t directly behind him.
They’d pulled into the parking lot of a diner that looked retro-chic and seemed to be affiliated with an old two-story house next door with a B&B sign hung in the front yard. Ben had been chatting on the diner’s front porch with another man as they’d arrived, but the other man had already shaken hands with Ben and left by the time they’d parked.
“Kenna told me about you.” Lizzie thrust her hand out. Ben’s hand engulfed hers as they exchanged a quick, not too firm, greeting.
Ben smiled politely, but clearly had no idea how Kenna—whom he’d never met—could be relaying details about him to Lizzie.
“She said the Idaho guys were terrified of Max because they thought he was you, so you’re apparently scary. To other Lycan,” she clarified. “That’s what enforcers do, right?” She grinned, pleased with her analysis.
Ben flashed her a broad, easy smile. “That’s the general gist. Sometimes there’s arm wrestling, and maybe a bloody nose on occasion.”
She’d heard Ben was quiet, but she could see that he certainly wasn’t shy.
“Come on in. We can sit in the kitchen at the chef’s table.” Seeing Lizzie’s confusion, Ben explained. “In the kitchen, so we can avoid any late night diners. I’ve got another hour before close.”
“You run the diner? John didn’t say.”
Ben shrugged. “Family business. I cook a few times a week, but my
She wouldn’t leave it. Her curiosity alone was enough to keep her digging, not to mention the fact that Logan had asked her to do it. She’d feel some sense of obligation to see it through for his sake, as well. She’d promised not to experiment with the book alone, but he didn’t think that was enough.
“Definitely,” she readily agreed, apparently unruffled by his request.
After they’d been on the road a few minutes, he said, “I almost forgot. The reason we’re in a rush—Max pulled a gun on a smartass pack member who was shooting off his mouth. We have legitimate avenues for complaint, and calling me an irresponsible douche in a public place doesn’t actually meet any of those requirements.”
Horror and humor warred momentarily on Lizzie’s face. Humor must have won, because by the time his eyes were back on the road, he could hear her laughing.
“Ohmygosh,” she gasped. Laughter gurgled up again.
“Take a breath before you hyperventilate.” Out of the corner of his eye, John could see she was almost doubled over in her seat.
After a few minutes, she wiped the tears away from her eyes. “I cannot believe any of the Pack would say something so, so”—she grappled for the right word—“so stupid. What an asshat.”
John choked. “Asshat?”
“Well, he is, isn’t he?”
“He is,” John agreed with a cheeky grin. “Although no one in the Pack would ever dare to actually call me a douche. Max summarized and added a little flair.”
“Same difference,” she replied staunchly.
His grin broadened. “I love you.”
“I know,” she replied smugly.
And he was okay. He’d show up, kick the crap out of Evan so he’d think twice about publicly disrespecting him again—but not so badly he was humiliated. He’d speak with the Council to affirm their support and discuss the offer he’d made to David. He’d get his plan rolling for rooting out the origin of the rumor mill. And he’d look into the possibility that spell casters could promote some type of altered state in Lycan similar to alcohol intoxication. But all in all, everything was okay.
Chapter 9
“L izzie, meet Ben Emmerson, one of the Pack’s enforcers and a good friend of mine.” Lizzie squinted up at the towering, redheaded man John was introducing. Ben recognized her dilemma and immediately took several steps to his right so that the last of the setting sun wasn’t directly behind him.
They’d pulled into the parking lot of a diner that looked retro-chic and seemed to be affiliated with an old two-story house next door with a B&B sign hung in the front yard. Ben had been chatting on the diner’s front porch with another man as they’d arrived, but the other man had already shaken hands with Ben and left by the time they’d parked.
“Kenna told me about you.” Lizzie thrust her hand out. Ben’s hand engulfed hers as they exchanged a quick, not too firm, greeting.
Ben smiled politely, but clearly had no idea how Kenna—whom he’d never met—could be relaying details about him to Lizzie.
“She said the Idaho guys were terrified of Max because they thought he was you, so you’re apparently scary. To other Lycan,” she clarified. “That’s what enforcers do, right?” She grinned, pleased with her analysis.
Ben flashed her a broad, easy smile. “That’s the general gist. Sometimes there’s arm wrestling, and maybe a bloody nose on occasion.”
She’d heard Ben was quiet, but she could see that he certainly wasn’t shy.
“Come on in. We can sit in the kitchen at the chef’s table.” Seeing Lizzie’s confusion, Ben explained. “In the kitchen, so we can avoid any late night diners. I’ve got another hour before close.”
“You run the diner? John didn’t say.”
Ben shrugged. “Family business. I cook a few times a week, but my
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