Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers (89 page)

“Don’t get attached to that thing,” he repeated on his way to the door. Gideon stopped on the front porch and looked back at Miki. It was like looking at the tempting princess guarded by her fierce dragon. Damned if he didn’t want to find a sword and skewer the thing.

“Some things are as sure as the rising sun in Rossdale. Felines hate it for some reason. You’re better off not letting yourself get emotionally attached.”

With a small nod, he turned and walked away. Don’t get emotionally attached. Good advice. After all, it wasn’t just cats that didn’t belong in Rossdale. The same warning could be applied to sexy women with vulnerable midnight eyes.

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Eight

Tilda stood at the edge of Main Street, her arms raised to the dark, moonless sky, and shuddered in ecstasy as a surge of elemental power moved through her.

She hadn’t set foot in Rossdale proper in years. She’d forgotten the feel of its energy. Stupid Rosalee Wenton, bequeathing her power to a town. What a waste.

As before, Tilda would gain because of Rossdale’s cluelessness. And she prided herself in her ability to take any gain, however small, and wring it for all it was worth.

She closed her eyes, breathed deep the cool, night air and focused on the power coiled in her belly. A flick of her upraised wrists was all it took to send that dark power outward. A dusky bubble enveloped her. Slowly lowering her arms, hands pressed outward, she expanded the bubble to include the man at her side, then the small group of people behind her.

“Invisibility is ours,” she proclaimed when her fingers rested at her hips. “Go ahead, show these people what happens when they threaten us.”

To rile the select cultists to do her bidding, Tilda had told them the townspeople were out to get them, to take away their lake and with it, their powers and ability to create gold.

As always, her lies had worked well.

At the wave of her hand, the air rushed as the people surged around her until only Antonio remained at her side. Together, they watched the Lights of Atlantis, shrouded in a magical mist, scurry down the wooden walkways like termites. Paint sprayed, glass broke, and all manner of nasty dead creatures were hung over each door.

“Are you sure we need to do this?” Antonio asked with a wince as two men hefted a wooden, flower-filled wine cask and tossed it into the middle of the street. The contents flew every which way at the impact. “I’m unclear how vandalism will help our plan.”

Tilda kicked away the clump of dirt that landed at her feet, then knelt to retrieve a muddied rose from the debris.

“This town is already dead,” she informed her lover. Holding out the flower, she sneered. “Look, plastic. They can’t even grow anything now. It’s time these losers realized the game is over. They need to pack up and leave. Or,” she closed her hand over the yellow plastic flower, then opened it again to show the pile of ash now covering her palm, “they need to be destroyed.”

She flicked the ash from her fingers and shrugged.

“Look at it this way, my love. We’re giving them a chance to start over instead. I consider that most generous.”

And a damned waste of time. But he’d been such a pansy boy, whining in fear over her plans, that she’d had to modify them. After all, his little sheep still thought he was the power behind Atlantis, and she needed them to do the actual work.

“I don’t like it,” he muttered with a bad-tempered shrug. “This is going to get messy, Tilda. You’re going to ruin everything with your need for revenge.”

She gave a little start, quickly hidden. Forcing a tinkling laugh, she tilted her head in question. “What on earth do you mean? I’m securing our future, Antonio. You know we need to bring the trucks through, to empty this town if we’re to sell the thorium.”

“If you can hide a dozen grown men while they vandalize the homes and businesses of the townspeople right under their noses, surely you can hide a big rig truck as it passes on the highway.”

Tilda clenched her jaw to hold the serene expression on her face. Anger churned in her gut and her fingers twitched to zap him with a slap of energy. How dare he question her?

“It’d take a different kind of magic,” she lied. “A few men in a small space aren’t much work, but a transport truck that size? That would take coven magic, not the work of a single witch. Of course, maybe you’re strong enough to hide it?”

Tilda ignored his sputtered excuses and surveyed the destruction down the street. Although this would irritate the good citizens of Rossdale, it wouldn’t likely push the diehards who’d lasted this long into leaving. But it would be much harder to implement the next step of her plan for the town’s destruction if Antonio was being difficult. Perhaps it was time to cut her losses. She turned back to eye the man next to her.

“You’re with me or against me, Antonio,” she said in a low voice. “The time has come for changes. You will accept them, or you won’t. But no matter what, I will have my way.”

He towered over her, flexing his muscles. The frown on his face might have intimidated his sheep, but all it did for Tilda was tighten her nipples.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Darling, I don’t make threats. You should know that by now.” Tilda smoothed her palm over the warm skin on his chest, left bare by his unbuttoned linen shirt. “I do make promises though. And I promise you, Rossdale will be mine. Either we’ll both relish the delicious pleasure of not only the riches to come, but of each other as we explore the ultimate power awaiting us.”

Tilda leaned close, her fingers digging into his bare chest, and traced her tongue along his collarbone, lapping up the salty flavor of his flesh.

“Or,” she said as she stepped back and dropped her hand, “you’ll be left in the dust, much like the dirt we’re currently standing on.”

Antonio set his jaw. “I’m not afraid of you, Tilda. You might have a certain degree of power, but I have a great deal more.”

She gave a sneering sort of laugh and ran her fingers through her silken hair, loving the feel of it falling back to her shoulders.

“My power is no little thing, unlike whatever you might
think
you have,” she told him, dismissing his attempt at bravado.

An intent look on his face, Antonio leaned down until they were nose to nose.

“What I have is information. Quite a bit, as a matter of fact. You turn me to dust, Tilda, and you’ll be exposed to the one man you’re hiding from. I have the power to stop you in your tracks.”

Tilda swallowed to wet her throat. Then she swallowed again. He had to be bluffing. But, her glance darted down Main Street, what if he wasn’t?

“Don’t take me for a fool,” he warned. Large hands gripped her arms, lifting her as he rose to his full height. “Your little obsession suited me as long as there was something to be gained. But you’re working toward ruining what I’ve worked long and hard for. I won’t be left with nothing.”

A shudder of sexual awareness rippled through her. Needing to buy time to consider his threat, and how she’d deal with it, she used the awareness to her advantage. Putting on a show of shrugging his hands off her arms, she curled her own around his neck. Pressing her hardened nipples against his chest, she rubbed herself in slow, undulating circles. His eyes darkened and she hid her triumphant smile by pressing her lips to his.

“We both want the same thing,” she claimed when she released his mouth. “Together we will have it. Power, riches, and more.”

“As long as you realize this is an equal footing, Tilda. Don’t think you can make threats without repercussions. My people won’t follow you, no matter what you might think. And if something happens to me, well... let’s just say you won’t enjoy the results.”

Triumph turned to simmering anger, but Tilda was careful to keep her face smooth and her breasts pushed against him.

“You have nothing to worry about,” she lied. Then she made a show of glancing down the street and gave a nod of her chin. “You should direct your people, Antonio. I’m sure you don’t want them getting carried away.”

With a warning look, he sauntered down the street. She watched, jaw clenched, as the termites swarmed to him like rats to the piper. She’d have to do something about that. But not tonight.

Tilda forced herself to release the anger and focus on the land, the energy flowing beneath her feet. She hadn’t set foot in this town in six years, and as strong as the energy was, it was barely worth the fury stirred up by her memories of it.

Damn Gideon for hauling her here to this rinky-dink joke of a place. For thinking this would suit her, that she’d be content to waste away here in Nowhereville. The only saving grace was the vein of magic tied to the land. And once she’d realized she could tap into that without putting up with being smothered by the rest, she’d left.

And Gideon had refused to leave with her. With the combined strength of her powers, the magic of the prophecy,
and
Gideon at her side, they could have done anything. The key was Gideon though. Oh, she’d tried other founding descendants. But it didn’t work. Either the prophecy was only half-true, or she needed the love of Gideon Ross to avail herself of its full power.

And that had been his downfall, and how she’d known he didn’t really love her. Because that ultimate power had always been denied her. Like fine wine, revenge was best with age. And Tilda would have her revenge. Nobody, not even the sexiest man she’d ever had, turned away from her. Especially not after she’d let him into her heart.

* * *

Deloris Ross preened under the jealous eye of her best friend. If only she’d had warning that Reba was stopping by, she’d have taken time to cut fresh flowers from her garden. So few flowers still grew in Rossdale, and nothing irked Reba more than knowing Deloris’s roses had a better scent than her own.

“I really love the new dining room set,” Reba said again. “I had no idea you were in the market for new furnishings.”

Deloris gave a little shrug. She hadn’t been, but after someone had commented on the age of her couch at the last little gathering she’d held, she’d realized she was losing her status with the townspeople. One must put on the best face possible under any circumstance. Which meant if she were going to continue to command the respect—and yes, the fear—of the town she had to present just the right image.

“Would you like more tea?” she asked, holding up her Spode teapot replica. Lucky for her, nobody in Rossdale could tell the difference between real and imitation. When Reba shook her head, Deloris refilled her own cup. Not that she was thirsty, but because of the pretty way the gold detailing looked when the light hit it.

“D’ya think it was those hoodlums out at the lake that messed up the town?” Reba asked, returning to her reason for stopping by. “Fred said everyone’s baffled at how there could be so much destruction and so little evidence.”

“Pshaw,” Deloris spat. “There’s plenty of evidence. Reggie Compton is just too stupid or too scared to do anything about it. He might have shooed off the county sheriff with that ‘no evidence’ fluff, but I happen to know there was plenty. Paint cans, fingerprints, even the muddy footprints. It’s all traceable to those wretched cultists.”

Reba nodded and reached for her third cinnamon bun. “You must be mighty proud of Gideon. Even though he’s not leader-material, he sure did rally the folks around here. Got a cleanup crew moving and is heading up the repairs himself.”

Not leader-material, her ass. Deloris barely refrained from baring her teeth in a growl.

“He’s a credit to his name,” was all she said though.

“I do love this new dining set of yours, Deloris. Must have cost you a fortune. European, you said?” Reba smoothed her hand over the sleek blond wood and sighed. “I sure wish we could afford such fancy furnishings.”

“I had it shipped over special.” She was careful not to say where exactly it had shipped
from
. Deloris Ross hadn’t spent over twenty-five years as a politician’s wife for nothing. “I was considering a dinner party before all this ugliness broke out. Now I think I’ll wait a bit, at least until my new living room furniture arrives, too.”

“Living room set, you say?”

Deloris preened at the envy in the other woman’s tone.

“White on white,” she said with a nod. “With silk pillows.”

“Ooooooh,” Reba breathed. “Fancy.”

“Of course,” Deloris said with a nod. Deciding the time was right, she took a delicate sip of her tea, then set the cup carefully on its saucer. She pulled a plain manila file folder toward her and patted it. “After all, I can’t see the townsfolk driving ten miles out of town to Gideon’s house for parties and such when my home is so much more accessible. Besides, like his father, he’s sure to rely on me to be hostess for all his events. I was thinking we’d start with a Memorial Barbeque, like Lucas and I used to hold.”

Reba shot her a narrow-eyed look, then pinned her gaze on the folder beneath Deloris’s tapping fingers.

“Any special event you were thinking of celebrating at this barbeque?”

“Gideon’s being elected mayor, of course.”

“Mayor? They won’t even be announcing the candidates for mayor for three months yet. Much too late for a Memorial Day party.”

Deloris tut-tutted and gave Reba an indulgent look. “You have to understand politics. Given the current political climate, it’s obviously time for Gideon to make his move. Sure, we... I mean, he can wait three months, make a declaration, and then waste a lot of time and money on a campaign that everyone knows will end in his election. But why should he?”

“Well...” Reba’s face rolled tight in a frown, then she shrugged. “Because that’s the way it’s done?”

“Pshaw. Under most circumstances, it might be. But this attack is proof positive that Reggie Compton is unfit to protect Rossdale. I say it’s time to take steps.”

Reba’s eyes grew huge and a beatific grin graced her moon-shaped face. “Impeachment?” she breathed the word as if it were a prayer.