She sat back, studying him.
He didn’t smile or try to cajole, almost fascinated by the play of expressions across her finely crafted features. When she opened her mouth to speak, he fully expected a refusal.
“You sure you’re safe with me?” she asked, that throaty voice scratching under his skin.
He grinned. Not in flirtation, and not in reassurance, but in pure amusement. He was a three-centuries-old witch, an enforcer for his people, and one of the most dangerous beings on the planet. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Remember those words,” she whispered, sliding from the stool.
He pushed back and stood, struck by her size. Even wearing spectacular black boots with three-inch spike heels, she barely reached his chest. It was a colossal mistake to spend the night with a human woman, and he was surely ignoring his duties, but for once, he didn’t give a damn.
His two younger brothers, both enforcers, were out of the country on jobs, while the two prospects, who weren’t quite prospects, were out clubbing in Seattle, looking for the elusive drug they were all trying to stop. None of them required babysitting for the evening. In fact, nobody needed his assistance right now, and with a woman like Cee Cee sending out unmistakable signals, he was taking a fucking night for himself. Yet he paused. “This is one night.”
She threw back all of that glorious hair and laughed, deep and throaty. “I’m not looking for a ring, Enforcer. This is an adventure for one night, and then it’s back to reality.”
He had the oddest urge to discover her reality, but he shook it off. “Fair enough.” Sliding a hand around her bicep, he propelled her through the crowd to the door, ignoring the hangdog expression on Grad’s face. The kid hadn’t had a chance and apparently was too dumb to know it.
They reached outside, a cool Seattle night, and he escorted her to the Harley. “You have a car here?”
“No. I came with my friend.” She eyed the supercharged bike with bright eyes. “She’s beautiful.”
His chest lifted. Yeah, she was. “Thanks. You ever ride a bike before?”
Her pretty lips turned down. “You know, oddly enough, I have not.”
The way she talked, every once in a while, bespoke an Ivy League education and hard-won experience. Just who was Cee Cee? “What’s your last name, darlin’?”
“Jones.” She shivered in the night air and zipped up a designer leather jacket.
Daire would bet his last coin that his cousin, clothes aficionado Simone Brightston, would approve of the coat. “You’re a mystery, Cee Cee Jones.”
She stepped into him, bringing the scent of wild hyacinth. “I’m just a good girl out for one wild time before getting back to real life. You going to give me that, Enforcer?”
Aye. Aye, he was. He threw a leg over the bike and held back an arm to assist her to sit behind him. She straddled the bike like she’d been born for it, and he shoved down a groan at the mental image of her straddling him. Then she slid her hands around his waist, tucking them inside his jacket.
Swallowing deep, his body rioting like a teenager’s on a first date, he handed back the helmet. “Tiny blondes with big brains protect their heads,” he rumbled, his voice sounding like he’d swallowed shards of glass.
She shifted against him and slid on the helmet. “I’m ready.” Her voice emerged muffled.
Shit. He was more than ready. “Hold on, baby.” He paused before igniting the engine. “Your place or mine?” Damn, had he really just used that stupid line?
She laughed and leaned up and into him, the helmet smacking his cheek. “Your place.”
Fair enough. He had a flat across town in a high-rise building where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Igniting the engine, he pulled out of the lot and opened the throttle down the quiet road.