He couldn’t have left her there. No doubt, more witches would return. The one he’d fought had thrown fire like a master, and surely had backup.
Who the hell was that man? Kellach had lost him when trying to rescue Alexandra from falling. The witch wasn’t known to Kell, so he was probably just muscle for hire. Whoever wanted Alexandra or whatever she held knew enough about her to know she had enforcer protection, so they’d hired a witch. The guy had seemed shocked to be face to face with an enforcer, so apparently he hadn’t been given the full story. “I brought you home to protect you,” Kell said.
She growled and shoved the covers off her bare legs. “What did they inject me with?”
“Standard sedative. You should be fine.”
“I am.” She glanced around again. “I have to get back to my apartment. Bernie will be beside himself.”
“Bernie has no clue.” Kellach crossed his arms. If she thought she was going back to that war zone to face a species she didn’t even know existed, she was fucking crazy.
“Baloney.” She stood and wobbled slightly. “You’re telling me three men broke into a cop’s apartment, started a fire, burned the awning outside, and nobody called the cops?”
He sighed. “I sent my brothers to deal with anybody else who showed up.” Once the witch, whoever he was, saw two enforcers there without any humans to protect, the asshole would surely go the other way, no matter how much he’d been paid. “The awning and your apartment will be fixed before dawn arrives.”
The storm rolled outside, spattering wind and hard pellets of rain against the glass window. Seattle at its finest.
Alexandra shook her head. “What about the men who broke in?”
Regret slithered through him like a snake. “I couldn’t contain them and save you, so I chose you.” He’d find the bastards, however. Then they’d regret harming her.
She shoved wet curls off her forehead.
“Why do you cut your hair so short?” he whispered, cocking his head to the side.
The blond mass was stunning, and if that curl was real, she’d look like a goddess with it long. Not that she didn’t look stunning and tough with it short.
She faltered, vulnerability darkening her eyes. “It’s easier to take care of short, and it’s harder to grab in a fight.”
“You shouldn’t be fighting.” He strode toward her to brush a finger over the bruise darkening her cheekbone. “You’re too delicate.” Too special.
She kept still, allowing him to touch her. “I don’t understand you.”
“Aye.” How could she? She didn’t know a damn thing about him. “Who were those men at your apartment?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. They were looking for something that somebody left me, but they wouldn’t say what or who. If you ask me, they had their wires crossed.”
Kell nodded. He’d know soon enough. Daire and Adam were searching her apartment top to bottom while ensuring the proper repairs were made.
“I saw the first guy throw fire at you, but I couldn’t see the weapon since I was behind him.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze directly in the darkened room. “Tell me about the weapon.”
He sighed. By law, he couldn’t tell her the truth. But she was too damn smart to keep lying to about a nonexistent weapon.
“I don’t know how it works, but the weapon somehow takes plasma, forms a ball, and fires it at the victim.” Well, it was kind of true. Throw in a witch species, a thorough understanding of quantum physics and genetic gifts . . . and one could throw plasma balls of fire.
“You had one of the weapons the first night in the alley,” she murmured.
“Yes.” He’d forgotten he’d thrown fire that night. “I sent the weapon to my people in Ireland to take apart and study.” He had to quit lying to her, damn it.
She shook her head. “Are you supplying these weapons?”
“No.” His agreement was to supply AK-47s and semiautomatic weapons to Pyro and Fire, but he had yet to give weapons to the criminals.
“What about the drugs?” she asked.
“I’m trying to find out about the drugs the same as you are,” Kell said, finally giving her the truth. “I promise you, give you my solid word as a Dunne and an enforcer, I do not know who’s making the drug. I will find out.”
She blinked. Her nostrils flared. She tried to step back, but the bed held her in place.
He knew the second her fear turned to something else. To awareness. Even desire.
A pretty flush wandered up over her face. “Did you kill Duck?”
“No.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip, and he stared, entranced. “Again on my word, I didn’t kill Duck, nor do I know who did. Yet.”
She breathed out, warming his thumb. “Duck was killed by an Apollo overdose.”
“Aye. I heard.” Lust blared through him, hardening his muscles, slamming an ache to his groin. “Alexandra.” He drew out each syllable, enjoying the feel on his tongue. “In my shirt, and in my bed.”