The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf (Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Book 4) Read online

  “Um…no?” I say, honestly confused.

  “If you insist on keeping up the sass, I’m going to complain directly to your boss,” she warns me.

  “Ohhhh…” I say. “I don’t work for Nico Tralano. I’m not his secretary.”

  “Well then who is, and why isn’t she here?” the woman demands.

  I sigh. I’ve never been known for my incredible tact and patience, but Nico has done me more than a few favors in the past. The least I can do is not run off his newest client.

  “Do you have an appointment?” I ask. I go over to his desk, which is a complete mess. Shuffling papers, I find his mouse and shake it to wake up his computer, which is ancient. Supes are not great with technology, and Nico refuses to upgrade his electronics until they’re completely dead. The system he has at the moment gives a half-hearted whir followed by a sharp ping from somewhere inside. It’s not a good noise, and even worse is the trail of smoke rising up from the processor.

  Time to upgrade.

  “I don’t have an appointment per se,” the woman admits. She stands, her six-hundred-dollar shoes clacking on the floor. I know how much those shoes cost because my housemate Darron gave me a crash course in expensive footwear when my pet Dalmanther chewed through his collection.

  “Then there’s really not much I can do to help you,” I say, backing away from Nico’s desk and the smell of melting plastic.

  She clutches her expensive purse. “He told me to stop by any time…”

  Suddenly, I understand. I put on my own face that implies mock outrage. “You must be one of his many clients that engage in his services which fall outside of the contractual P.I. agreement.”

  And by that I mean, he also fucks the women who are pissed that their husbands are cheating on them. It’s not a bad deal for Nico. He catches the husband, consoles the wife, and then cashes the check.

  She glares daggers at me, but doesn’t exactly turn tail and leave. Nico’s dick must be even more magical than I thought.

  “Shall I remove you from his client list?” I ask, reaching toward the keyboard. It’s a pure bluff, which she must know. There’s a burning smell coming from the computer, but even the implication that she might not see Nico again sends her into a well-manicured flutter of hands.

  “Of course not, simply let him know that I am no longer interested in coming at—” With a fake cough she quickly corrects herself. “Coming to his place of business. I want you to tell him that we will only meet at my home from now on.”

  She apparently didn’t get the message that I don’t work for Nico, and I’m about to correct her again when she adds, “And you’re not invited!”

  “Oh, I’m usually not,” I assure her. “Nico likes to stick to one-on-one or all out group sex. Nothing in between. He says a ménage à trois is only for bored people without the creativity for a full-blown orgy.”

  “I...well…I…” I don’t know if I’ve flustered her or if she’s seriously considering the orgy offer, but she backs out the door in something of a panic, so I assume the first.

  I lick my finger and draw an imaginary point in the air. “Paige Harper, 1. Rich bitches, 0.”

  I turn to Nico’s workspace and shake my head. No matter how often I offer to clean it up, he refuses. Still, I can’t resist at least shuffling the papers into a neat pile away from his computer where they’re least likely to catch on fire. As I stack the smaller items on top, I notice the rental bill from the office management company. I should pay it without him knowing. I have some extra cash. He does that kind of thing to me all the time, an aggressively nice action that puts me in his debt.

  I look at the bill and almost drop it; rent here is not what he told me it was. It’s five times more. I thought I was paying him half, but I’m barely paying him a tenth. I put the bill down and back away.

  I know it’s nice of him to keep the truth from me and pay for a larger share of our office. But I also know it’s manipulative and underhanded. Nico isn’t my husband. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not even a friend, really. But I can’t seem to get him out of my life.

  Maybe I should just set up something at home. It’s not as professional, but most clients call or book online. I’d have to do it somewhat quietly, because I don’t think running a business out of your home is allowed in my neighborhood. Plus there’s my housemates. Shauna is a bit less obnoxious since getting clean, but she’s still got a big personality and no personal boundaries. Darron, who sometimes goes by Daphne, is a free-spirited Drag Queen. And then there’s my Dalmanther named Shit who has the cuteness of a puppy and the bloodlust of a panther. Plus there’s the occasional “gifts” that VSK leaves for me—dead cats, dead vamps, humans-turned-vamp.

  Sigh. No way I can make it with a home office. Clients will be running down the street trying to get away.

  I go to my own—perfectly pristine—desk to get some paperwork done. I’m pleased to find that the invoice for the vampire baby cleaning job has already been submitted, and paid. Hepa—a witch with a rare specialty in tech—revamped my whole site after I saved her from a super messed up situation at a raunchy sex club. Now invoices automatically send after I complete a job. If the client doesn’t pay after three days a reminder is sent. If they still haven’t paid after a week, Hepa hexes them so that they can’t spend any money at all until they pay me first.

  I sit back in my chair. I have definitely changed over the last year. If you told me six months ago my invoicing system would be magic-based, I’d have laughed my ass off. But here we are.

  The bell above the door dings and Nico Tralano walks into the room carrying a bundle of mail. It’s hard not to watch him. He’s two hundred pounds of muscle and angst. He lost one of his eyes when he was a teenager—a bad break-up, as he tells it. The eyepatch just makes him look like a sexy urban pirate. If he weren’t so insufferable I’d hoist his mainsail and…

  “Paige,” he nods to me. I close my mouth and wipe away a bit of drool.

  “Hey Nico. Nice...weather today,” I say lamely.

  I’ve been trying to patiently wait and see if Liam would come around. We had so little time together, but it’s time to face facts: he doesn’t want to be with me. And I don't blame him. I made the choice to save him by turning him into a vampire against his will. That’s on me. But I’d make the same choice again and again. I’d rather he hate me than be dead.

  But a girl has needs. I’ve noticed that Nico has a musk. Sometimes I have to leave the office when we’ve both been there too long. I usually take a drive, go get donuts, try to think unsexy thoughts.

  I’m definitely not ready for another boyfriend, or even a fling with a guy. Pretty much I want to keep other bodies out of the whole scenario. If I was a better person, I would’ve taken a vow of celibacy after what I did to Liam.

  Instead, I splurged on a Thunderstick Vibrator. Ten thousand five-star reviews on Amazon, and all those women can’t be wrong.

  Speaking of which, I was meant to receive it today. I check the tracking number to see where it is in the postal system. If it arrives maybe I’ll knock off a bit early, take a nice bath, listen to music, light some candles…

  The computer is telling me that the package was delivered and signed for. I look at the signature. Oh no. Please no. This cannot be happening.

  “Um...Paige?” Nico’s voice is questioning, amused.

  I do not want to turn around. “Yeah?” I ask, my voice breaking. I pretend to type on my computer.

  “Well, I got this package that I didn’t realize was for you.” He actually laughs. I want to die.

  “Oh?” I make a big show of being really engrossed in work. First I squint at my computer like there’s something upsetting there, then I flick through papers on my desk—

  The bright purple Thunderstick lands on my desk with a THUNK. Wow, the reviews that said it was solidly made were not kidding. It’s thick and long and heavy.

  And exactly what I need.

  Nico has a lot of nerve la
ughing. At least I don’t screw my own clients! I mean, sure, he’s been doing less of that since we’ve been sharing a space. But sometimes I come in at the same time one of his clients are going out and I can smell the scent of sex in the air.

  Of course, Nico pretends he’s some sort of Mother Theresa type. He tells a client that yes, her husband is cheating on her and then nobly wipes her tears and fucks her back onto her feet. No wonder he gets so much repeat business.

  Well I’m not gonna let Nico shame me for having needs.

  My hand closes around the Thunderstick and I heft it like a dumbbell at the same time that I raise my gaze to meet Nico’s eye straight-on.

  “Congratulations, Nico, you cracked the case. This is indeed a vibrator. It is mine and I will be going through a lot of batteries in the near future.”

  Instead of backing down, Nico just grins at me. “Actually, it looks rechargeable. Convenient and way better for the environment.” He tosses the charging cable onto my desk. “Seems there’s a remote too.” Nico holds the tiny square with about five thousand buttons on it up so that we can both examine it.

  “Give that to me,” I say, snatching it from him. In my haste, I press on the buttons and the Thunderstick rumbles to life in my hand. Not only does it shake, but it spins too, with enough power to rival Darron’s smoothie blender.

  “That’s a lot of horsepower,” Nico says in a low rough voice, his single eye still fixed on me, intense and burning.

  “It is,” I agree, my voice also slipping into a lower register. I run my other hand up and down the rotating shaft. Nico shudders. Our gazes are still locked together as he reaches out and his hand covers mine, moving with it. Now there’s the cold plastic of the Thunderstick beneath my palm while Nico’s hot strong hand encloses my own.

  There’s a little bathroom at the back of our office. I can imagine leading Nico there, both of our hands still on the Thunderstick. I’d lock the door and then the two of us could do our own thorough review.

  It could be so hot. And so fun. It’s been so long so Liam and I—

  Liam.

  Our one and only time was on a romantic date. We had sex on a picnic blanket under the stars. Getting off with Nico and a Thunderstick in a bathroom that stinks of Dollar Tree fake pine cleaner sounds like the solution to a very depressing sex-themed game of Clue.

  And that’s a game I don’t want to play.

  I hit the remote button again and the Thunderstick goes quiet. Jerking my hand away from Nico’s touch, I drop the vibrator into my desk drawer.

  “I shouldn’t have had it sent to the office,” I say, as if that’s the problem here.

  Clearly frustrated, Nico runs a hand through his hair. “You can send whatever the hell you want here. I didn’t purposely open it.”

  “No.” I give him a tight fake smile. “It was unprofessional and I apologize.”

  “I don’t want your apologies, Paige,” Nico growls. “I want—” Planting his hands on my desk, he leans in. “I want you to be okay. I hate seeing you torn up like this.”

  Oh. That’s not exactly where I thought he was going with that statement.

  I’ve got a lot of experience in cockblocking hot, sexy, panty-melting Nico. But concerned and caring Nico is a whole different animal.

  The tears that I usually hold back until I’m in the shower fill my eyes. “I’m okay,” I say.

  “Bullshit,” he counters. “You jump at shadows and startle whenever a car door slams.”

  “I’m not used to sharing an office,” I lie. The truth is, I have been on edge. The more time that passes without another move from VSK the more tense I get, because I know he’s going to strike sooner or later.

  “Paige,” Nico says, his voice coaxing and gentle. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “To me?” I stare at Nico in surprise and then a horrible laugh comes out of me. It’s an ugly broken sound. “You think I’m worried about myself? VSK hasn’t touched me. Not once. He’s never even tried. Instead he went after my enemies and when that wasn’t enough he started to take down my—” I was going to say friends. But Liam was more than that. “I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t stand over someone else I care about and have to decide whether they live or die.”

  The tears I’d been holding back break free, streaming down my face. I cover myself with my hands, not wanting Nico to see. A moment later his arms close around me and press me to his chest. I breathe him in, letting myself have this small moment of comfort—and then I push him away.

  “I’m fine,” I say, pulling up the bottom of my t-shirt to wipe my face. “Just give me some space, okay?”

  I snap the words out, hard and mean, needing Nico to back off.

  And he does.

  “All right,” he says, heading for the door. “I gotta run an errand anyway. But you can’t fight VSK alone, Paige,” he tells me and then the door shuts before I can respond.

  Not that there’s anything to say. Because Nico’s wrong. There’s only one way to get VSK and that’s to keep doing what I’ve been doing—isolate myself and wait for that son of a bitch to come and get me.

  3

  I gather my stuff to leave, planning on going home and seeing if I can possibly still get off on the cold plastic of the Thunderstick after feeling Nico’s arms around me—when a man enters and makes a beeline to my desk.

  “Hello,” I tell him, glancing up. “I’m not a secretary.” At his desk, Nico laughs.

  His so-called errand only took fifteen minutes and he came back with a bag of donuts that he then left on the corner of my desk. I made the supreme sacrifice of eating two just so Nico could see his gesture was appreciated.

  I swipe a hand across my mouth, just in case some glaze is still sticking to my lips. Meanwhile, the man adjusts his glasses. He’s probably mid-thirties, a bit dorky looking, rocking khaki pants and a polo shirt. He screams disposable income.

  “Erm, sorry, I’m not looking for a secretary. You’re Paige Harper, right? I’m here for you.”

  “Great!” I motion him to the chair on the other side of my desk. “How did you hear about me, Mr…”

  “Bennet. You can call me Gary.”

  “Fantastic, Mr. Bennet...Gary. How did you hear about Down & Dirty?”

  “Friendbook. You have a lot of glowing reviews.”

  “Good to know!” Hepa must have upped my Friendbook presence. That girl is magic. Literally.

  “And what can I do for you?”

  “It’s about my sister.”

  I nod, not quite understanding. “You want me to clean for your sister? Like, as a present? Or would this be a recurring job?” I try to not let my voice sound too hopeful.

  He shakes his head. “No,” he looks around. “Sorry, I think we have our wires crossed. I don’t want you to clean for me. I want to hire you as a private investigator.”

  “You do?” I ask, truly confused, then deflated. “I think the two logos on the office window might have led you astray. I’m not—”

  “You’re the one that saved that vampire girl during the Humans First rally, right? And shut down all those horrible businesses that were taking advantage of supes?”

  “I’m not a licensed P.I.,” I acknowledge. “But I can direct you to someone I know,” I glance at Nico who is pretending not to listen to our conversation.

  “No. I want you. It’s a long story…” He shifts in his chair, suddenly uncomfortable.

  “Would you like something to drink?” I ask. “A tea or coffee?” Or a shot of whiskey? I think to myself.

  “Yes, that would be great.” He looks over to Nico. “Coffee, two sugars, no cream,” he tells him. I smother a grin and try not to put another imaginary point into the air. He thinks Nico is my assistant. Paige Harper, 2. Toxic masculinity, 0.

  Nico stands, his look somewhere between amusement and annoyance. I’ve played the secretary for him enough that he behaves, though. “Anything for you, boss?” he asks me, putting an unnecessary
snark on boss.

  “I’ll have my usual,” I tell him. I add a, “Thanks hon,” just to mess with him. If he was closer I’d smack his ass, but I’m pretty sure sexual harassment works both ways so that might be pushing it.

  Nico prepares the coffee while Gary starts on his story. “It all started with this podcast,” he explains. “Together We Go...Come Together…”

  “Together We Come?” I ask.

  “That’s the one. It’s all about…” He lowers his voice. “Sex.”

  “I’m familiar with it. I’ve known a few people who were devoted to the philosophy, which can be boiled down to the idea that humans and supes should just bang out our differences. Literally.”

  I do love it when I can use the word literally in a sentence correctly.

  “That’s exactly the word. Vicky is devoted. She tried to get me involved, but I’m a married man. My wife thought it was a bunch of new age kooky nonsense, and I had to agree. Also, I’m not going to sit there and listen to sex stuff with my sister.” He looks traumatized just talking about it.

  Nico brings over the coffees and I take mine without looking at him. I take a sip and almost choke. There’s a healthy serving of whiskey in there. I wish he didn’t know me so well. I raise my eyebrows at him and he winks at me. Hard to do with just one eye, but somehow he manages. Nico leans against my desk, waiting for the man to continue.

  “It was fine when it was just the podcasts, but then she started reading the books and doing the online chats. Finally she up and moved to the compound to live the Together We Come life.”

  “You want us to get her out?” Nico asks.

  “No!” Gary shakes his head. “Maybe. I don’t know. She’s a grown woman, I get that. And I know that Together We Come is sex-positive and all about female empowerment. The leader is a woman, for Pete’s sake! I just want you to...check it out, I guess. Make sure she’s doing okay. I haven’t heard from her in months. If she’s healthy and happy and this is how she wants to live, fine, I’ll respect that. I just have to make sure it’s not a”–he lowers his voice again–“cult.”