The Mark (Interracial Paranormal Romance) (Toil and Trouble) Read Free Page A

paid.
     
    And working for NACA had other perks-I had access to supernatural resources that I’d been barred from as a free agent. From having lattes with fairies to meeting a real, live dragon, I’d seen fantastic and terrible things.
     
    But there are only so many times one can summon some greedy fat cat ghost for an equally greedy living relative. I mean, as pissed as Mrs. Brooks was, that couldn’t have been the first time she experienced how truly sleazy her husband was. And as far as money, while she may not have been able to lead the life that she’d grown accustomed to, everyday Americans were making it by on less.
     
    To make matters worse, I involved some other guy, essentially putting him in grave danger. What I’d done was sloppy, careless and downright dangerous. And for what? A new pair of Converse and a fancy athame I’d been eyeballing? What was I becoming?
     
    “Any other night,” I said wearily, glancing away. “Just not tonight, Jack. Okay?”
     
    “I’m not trying to get inside your head babe,” he said, wheeling me to face him. “But you’ve been moody-“
     
    “I’m always moody,” I retorted.
     
    “Abnormally moody,” Jack elaborated. “And you haven’t slept in days.”
     
    “What are you talking about?” I said, blowing out a plume of smoke. “You and I took that cat nap just last night.”
     
    He pushed his hipster glasses to the bridge of his nose. “Human beings can’t survive on a half hour of sleep, Jade.”
     
    I shrugged, tying my coat with a flourish. “I’m 21. I’m in the prime of my life. Hell, when Mom was my age, she’d go weeks without sleeping and she turned out just fine.” As soon as the words came out I knew how ridiculous they sounded. My mother only left her house to go grocery shopping and even then she was a nervous wreck.
     
    “Really?” Jack said, raising an eyebrow. “She’s fine, huh? This the same dysfunctional mom that you avoid like the plague?”
     
    I unwrapped myself from his arms and sunk into a patio chair. “I don’t avoid my mother.”
     
    “Ah,” he breathed. “So your whole ‘Tell her I’m busy’ sign language thing you do every time she calls--you’re secretly communicating that you want to talk to her?”
     
    I gave him the finger.
     
    “Again?” he said, with a smirk. “You sure you got another in you?”
     
    I chunked a plastic ashtray at him, shaking my head. “Why do I put up with you?”
     
    “Devilish good looks and free therapy,” he winked. “And I’m killer in the sack.” Which was mostly true. Before I could shoot a snarky reply, he held up his hands, his green eyes softening. “Truce?”
     
    I chuckled, cocking my head at the chair beside me. “Pop a squat.”
     
    “So how was work?” he asked, stretching his lean arms above his head.
     
    “Riveting,” I said, stubbing out the last of my cigarette. I could still see the white hot fury on Melissa Brooks’ face. I had a feeling that if it were possible to bring her husband back and kill him herself, she’d be game. “The wife doused the guy with salt. Pretty amusing.”
     
    “Ghosts always are,” he grinned. “How much did he stow away?”
     
    “5.5 mil.”
     
    “Holy shit,” he whistled. “And your cut?”
     
    “Significantly less than 5.5 million dollars,” I laughed. I had no idea how much my boss charged for consultations and I didn’t have the cajones to ask.
     
    As sketchy as my work could be at times, I really couldn’t complain. My abilities as a witch kept me from doing well in school, making any real friends, and maintaining any sort of romantic relationship. For someone without a college degree, it was either the service industry or honing my talents and making pretty good money with NACA. I went with option B.
     
    “Maybe you should consider contracting,” Jack said, staring out into the night.
     
    “Yeah,” I snorted. “And when the Watchers comes knocking, who’s gonna