Witch Is The New Black (Paris, Texas Romance #3)

“Bernie! If you go, I go with!” he hollered, but it was muffled to her ears, indicating Calla must have successfully gotten him out.

And then she was scrambling, too, at the sight of Ridge’s blood, cringing at the crimson drops on the knife Eddie had in his other hand, seeing red, infuriated by the idea he would continue to breathe if she didn’t stop him.

Throwing herself over Ridge’s prone body, she clamped her hand over Eddie’s, digging her nails into his flesh just as he fumbled with the detonator, his thumb so close to the red button her fear almost stopped her from doing what needed to be done.

Killing Eddie.

For killing her parents—for hurting Ridge.

Closing her eyes to keep the sweat from dripping into them, she yanked the knife he’d used on Ridge from him with a growl of rage and raised it high, just as Eddie pressed the button.

The knife plunging into his chest collided with the sound of the explosion.



“Dig!” Bernie heard someone scream.

“Clive, goddamn it, stop looking at Winnie’s ass and dig, you old fool!”

Flora. That was Flora!

And then there was dirt, falling in her mouth as she struggled to open it, a heavy weight on her chest that felt like an elephant preventing her from moving.

“Clive Atwell, are you looking at my backside, mister? I will yank your ear right off your head just like your mama used to do, buddy!”

Winnie—it was Winnie!

She coughed, spitting at the crumbles of rock and debris on her tongue.

“I hear her! Dig, Depends Patrol, dig!”

Fee. He’d made it out. Thank God.

“I swear on Madonna, that bastard’s going to rot in my prison for the rest of his immortality! I’ll play Debbie Gibson ’til his ears bleed!”

Baba Yaga?

What the hell was she doing in the mix?

“Bernie?” a voice muttered, weak and strained.

Ridge? Oh God! He was alive? “Ridge!” she managed to spit out.

“We got him, Bernie. Just hang on!” someone else yelled.

Bernie was finally able to manage a sitting position, a coughing fit racking her as she forced her body upward. And then the sun. Ungodly hot and beating down on the top of her head in the way she’d come to love.

As her eyes cleared, she groaned. Enormous piles of dirt scattered the landscape of the farm, debris from the cellar and barn strewn from one end to the other.

“B-Bop! Thank God you’re alive!” Fee was the first to tackle her, jumping into her arms and rubbing his cheek against hers with a soft purr. “Fuck and hell, Bernie, that was badass! I felt that magic of yours all the way out here!”

Felt her magic?

It didn’t matter. He was okay. She pulled him close to her chest and hugged his squirming body hard before setting him on the ground. “Oh Fee. Thank you. Thank you for talking me down in there. You’re the flashlight to my darkness, buddy.”

“Water, Gussie! Hand me the water!” Cool water splashed down over her head and face, dripping to her chin as Flora came into view. She wiped at Bernie’s face, her own a mask of worry. “Girl, you gave me the fright of my life!” Pulling her tight against her, Flora squeezed her hard. “Thank goddess you’re okay. That was some damn spell, girlie. Remind me never to get stuck in yer craw.”

“Ridge,” she whispered, hoarse and raw. “Where’s Ridge?” As her vision cleared and her mind began to play back the images of Eddie, she scrambled to rise.

But Gus clamped a hand on her shoulder. “Muscle-head’s all right. He’s just got a little cut. You sit now, and let us dig ya the rest of the way out.”

She lifted her aching arm and gripped Gus’ hand, pressing it to her wet, muddy face as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Doris? Where’s Doris. She helped Eddie. Oh, God, she was pinned to the…ceiling.” The horror of that made her shiver all over again.

“We got her, Bernie!” Greta called out.

Relief was momentary—until she remembered one of the most important things of all. “The book! Where is the book?”

“Swiped it on my way out, honey. Everything’s fine. Promise.” Calla squeezed her arm before she set about using her hands to dig right beside Bernie. As she scooped handfuls of dirt with alarming speed, the outline of Ridge’s body became clearer.

A moan to her left made Bernie jump, but then a foot came into her line of vision.

Eddie? Eddie was still alive?

No. That was no good. He’d killed her parents. He’d almost killed Ridge and Fee and Calla. Unacceptable!

Pushing everyone out of her way, she took a good look at Eddie before she grabbed a handful of his blond hair. “You son of a bitch!” she screamed down at him, giving his head a hard shake. “You killed my parents, and now you have to die! And it’s going to hurt, you slimy fuck! Oh my God, I’m going to rip your goddamn balls—”

Greta’s whistle sounded, loud and hurtful in her ears. “Sutton! At ease!”