Night of the Raven Read Free Page B

“Would you like me to look at your head?”
    “Why?”
    “Because you might have a concussion.”
    “That’s a given, Red. I meant why you? Are you a doctor?”
    “I’m a reconstructive surgeon.”
    “Seriously?” Laughing, he started for the back door. “You do face and butt lifts for a living?”
    What had come perilously close to going hot and squishy inside her hardened. Her lips quirked into a cool smile. “There you go. Whatever pays the bills.”
    “If you say so.”
    She maintained her pleasant expression. “Returning to the omission thing... Can you think of any reason why Nana would neglect to mention you were living here when we talked?”
    “You had a bad connection?”
    Or more likely insufficient time to relate many details, thanks to Lieutenant Michaels, who’d done everything in his power, short of tearing the phone from her hand and tossing her into the backseat of his car, to hasten their departure. Amara glanced up as a gust of wind whistled through the rafters. “My mother would call this an omen and say I shouldn’t have come.”
    “Yeah?” The cop—he’d said McVey, hadn’t he?—picked up and tapped his iPhone as he wandered past the island. “She into the woo-woo stuff, too?”
    “If by that you mean does she believe in some of the local legends? Absolutely.”
    He glanced at her. “There’re more than two?”
    “There are more than two hundred, but most of them are offshoots of the interconnected original pair. The Blumes are very big on their ancestor Hezekiah’s transformation into a raven.”
    “I’ve noticed.”
    “That transformation is largely blamed on the Bellam witches.”
    “The Bellams being your ancestors.”
    “My grandmother’s surname gave it away, huh?”
    “Among other things. Setting the bulk of them aside and assuming you’re Amara, your gran sent me a very short, very cryptic text message last night.”
    “You’re just opening a text from last night now?”
    “Give me a break, Red. It’s my day off, this is my personal phone and the windstorm out there dislodged four shutters that I’ve spent the better part of the past twelve hours repairing and reattaching.” He turned his iPhone so she could see the screen. “According to Grandma Bellam, you’re in a whack of trouble from the crime lord you helped convict.”
    Amara read the message, then returned her gaze to his unfathomable and strangely compelling eyes. “ Whack being the operative word. Look, it’s late, and I’m intruding—apparently. I’m sure one of my aunts, uncles or cousins will put me up for the night.” Wanting some distance between them, she started for the door. “I left my rental car at the foot of the driveway. It’s pointed toward Raven’s Hollow. As luck would have it, that’s where my less antagonistic relatives live. So I’ll leave you to whatever you were doing before we met and go break into one of their houses.” She rummaged through her shoulder bag and produced the back door key. “I’ll put this back under the flowerpot. Nana locks herself out at least three times a year.”
    Setting his phone on the island, McVey moved toward her. “Forget the key, Amara. Talk to me about this ‘whack of trouble.’”
    “It’s a—sticky story.”
    “I’m a cop. I’m used to sticky. I’m also fine with ‘sounds crazy,’ if that helps.”
    It didn’t. Neither did the fact that he’d ventured far enough into the light that she could see her initial assessment of him had been dead-on. The man was...well, gorgeous worked as well as any other word.
    Long dark hair swept away from a pair of riveting brown eyes, and what female alive wouldn’t kill for those cheekbones? Then there was the lean, rangy body. She wouldn’t mind having that on top of her again.... And, God help her, where had that thought come from? She seriously needed to get her hormones under control, because no way should the idea of—okay, admit it—sex with an überhot man send her