Page 14 of A Match Made in Coven (Paranormal Romance #2)
Chapter Fourteen
Just a Sewer Rat
SARAH MICHELLE
As Lorcan’s broad figure disappeared into the night, a cauldron of emotions brewed in her stomach. His parting “Goodnight, Shelly,” might’ve also caused her to ovulate on her doorstep. It unsettled her, this inexplicable attraction that had no business existing.
As she stepped back inside the house, Andromeda pounced, fanning herself dramatically. “Whew, is it hot in here or is it just me? Those smoldering looks between you two nearly set the living room on fire!”
“Oh, shut it,” Sarah Michelle grumbled, stalking past her nosy roommate. “There were no ‘smoldering looks.’ We were working.”
Nox scampered into the room, nimbly scaling the sofa to perch on the armrest. “Working, eh? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” His beady eyes flashed with reproach. “If your mother knew you’re consorting with a Black…”
Sarah Michelle shot him a withering glare. “Not you, too. There is no consorting going on between me and Lorcan Black.”
But even as the words left her mouth, they rang hollow. Her pulse quickened whenever he was near, and a jolt of awareness zipped through her when their eyes met and held a beat too long… It was getting harder to deny the attraction simmering under the surface.
Andromeda, ever the observant friend, wasn’t buying it. She plopped down on the sofa, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “Seriously, Shelly, you two have more chemistry than a potions lab. Why fight it?”
“Because,” Sarah Michelle bit out through clenched teeth, “he’s a Black. Our families have been feuding for generations. It would never work.”
“Psssh.” Andromeda waved a dismissive hand. “That feud is so last century. This is the modern magical age! Star-crossed lovers are totally in right now.”
Sarah Michelle pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache coming on. Sometimes Andromeda’s flair for the dramatic rivaled a horde of banshees.
“Love conquers all! I’m pro forbidden romances…” Andromeda clasped her hands to her chest, fluttering her lashes like a besotted damsel.
“For the last time, there is no love!”
“Lust, at least?”
“No lust either!” Sarah Michelle’s voice rose an octave, frustration spiking.
Andromeda smirked. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“Argh!” Sarah Michelle threw up her hands. “I’m done with this conversation. I’m going to bed.”
She whirled around, stomping toward her bedroom. But Andromeda’s singsong remark followed her retreat. “Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Shelly! That smoke-show of a wizard has you hot and bothered, and we both know it!”
Sarah Michelle slammed her door shut with a satisfying bang, muffling Andromeda’s cackle.
She sagged against the wood, squeezing her eyes closed, wishing it all away.
Pity the first image that popped into her mind was Lorcan—running, sweaty, bare-chested in his basement.
Oh, for hex’s sake. Sarah Michelle got ready for bed and downed an entire vial of dreamless-nights elixir to make sure that wretched wizard wouldn’t infest her dreams too.
***
The next morning, Sarah Michelle was already waiting outside when Lorcan pulled up in his sleek black car. She hurried over, yanking open the passenger door and slipping inside before he could even get out to greet her.
“In a rush, are we?” Lorcan quirked a brow.
“Just being efficient.” Sarah Michelle buckled her seatbelt. Her actual intention was to avoid giving her roommate more ammunition to tease her. “We can go.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes before Lorcan spoke again, his tone teasing. “You should smile more. It would improve your mood.”
“And you should talk less. It would also improve my mood.”
“Not a morning person?” Lorcan asked seriously, but his eyes danced with laughter.
“Not a ‘listening to unrequested advice’ person.”
He laughed at that, and the sound was a corkscrew in her belly—it dug deep and it coiled tighter with every chuckle.
The drive to the nearby town was less than fifteen miles, but it couldn’t be over fast enough.
When they finally arrived at the casino, Sarah Michelle low whistled.
The place was opulent, all gleaming gold and sparkling glass.
Red chandeliers dripped from the high ceilings, casting a sultry glow over the sea of slot machines and card tables.
The air hummed with the clink of glasses, the whir of the slots, and the occasional victorious shout.
“Fancy,” Lorcan remarked as they made their way inside—his tone grim.
“Yeah,” Sarah Michelle admitted. “The perfect place to lose a lot of money fast.”
Lorcan nodded, his jaw set. Sometimes the wizard was unreadable, but now Sarah Michelle could easily interpret the guilt he was feeling at not having known about Elijah’s gambling problem.
She felt for him, but it wasn’t her place to comfort him.
The best she could do to help Lorcan move on was track down the killer.
They approached the front desk to make inquiries and flashed Elijah’s photo to the concierge, a perky blonde named Tiffany, according to her name tag. Her eyes widened in recognition.
“Oh, Mr. Preston! Yes, he used to be a regular. A high roller.” Her smile dimmed. “But I’m afraid he’s no longer welcome at the Encore.”
“Why?”
Tiffany lowered her voice. “Well, about a year ago, Mr. Preston made a rather… sizable bet. On credit. And then he couldn’t repay the debt.”
“How big an amount are we talking?” Lorcan asked.
Tiffany’s eyes darted around before she whispered, “I don’t know the specifics, but it was a big sum. He made good in time, but management had to ban him, of course. Haven’t seen him since.”
Sarah Michelle and Lorcan exchanged a puzzled glance. If Elijah had been banned a year ago, then why had his phone pinged in Everett as recently and regularly as Andromeda had confirmed the night before?
They spent the next hour canvassing the casino staff, but no one had spotted Elijah in the past twelve months. Dead ends everywhere they turned.
“I don’t get it,” Sarah Michelle huffed as they regrouped near the entrance. “Andromeda’s never wrong about a trace. If Elijah’s phone was pinging here, then he must have been in the area.”
“But not inside the casino,” Lorcan mused, rubbing his stubbled jaw. “So where else would a gambling addict go when his favorite haunt cuts him off?”
As if summoned by the question, a hulking figure in a black suit detached from the wall and approached them. Sarah Michelle tensed, hand drifting toward her stunner, but the man held up his hands in a placating gesture.
“Easy there, detective. I couldn’t help overhearing, and I have some information for you. About Mr. Preston.”
“We’re listening.” Lorcan crossed his arms over his broad chest.
The bouncer glanced around furtively before jerking his head toward a quieter corner of the lobby. Sarah Michelle and Lorcan followed him. She might’ve dropped her hands from the gun but was still on high alert.
Once they were out of earshot of the main floor, the bouncer spoke in a low rumble. “Name’s Frank. I’ve worked here for years, and I remember Mr. Preston well. Used to chat with him sometimes, I tried to get him to seek help. But he never listened.”
Sarah Michelle nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”
Frank hesitated, then dropped his voice even lower. “Look, when the licensed casinos close their doors to someone like Mr. Preston… there are other places they can go. Less reputable gigs, if you catch my drift.”
Understanding dawned in Lorcan’s eyes. “Off the books you mean.”
Frank shrugged noncommittally, but his silence spoke volumes.
Lorcan leaned in closer. “Frank, Elijah was my best friend, if you know of any specific locations—”
“I ain’t no snitch,” Frank cut him off gruffly. “You didn’t hear none of this from me, we clear?”
“Absolutely,” Sarah Michelle assured him. “We appreciate the tip.”
Frank grunted, already turning to walk away. “Yeah, well. Just don’t go saying I didn’t warn you. Those places… they’re not for the faint of heart.”
As the bouncer lumbered off, Lorcan turned to Sarah Michelle with a raised eyebrow. “Why did you let him go? We could have interrogated him further, forced his hand to tell us where to look.”
Sarah Michelle grabbed Lorcan’s arm, her fingers tingling at the contact, and pulled him toward the exit. “Not here,” she hissed, glancing around. “Let’s go.”
Once outside, the natural light stung her eyes after the muffled, “no way to tell the time of the day” interior of the casino. The hotel’s gaudy neon lights faded behind them as they strode toward the parking lot, fallen leaves crunching under their feet.
“We didn’t need to push Frank,” Sarah Michelle explained, her breath forming little puffs in the chilly air. “There are other ways to find out about underground gambling dens.”
Lorcan still looked skeptical. “How?”
Sarah Michelle smirked. “Oh, I have my sources… I know a rat who knows a rat…”
“How delightfully vague. You mean you have an informant?”
They reached Lorcan’s car, the black paint gleaming like obsidian in the weak fall sunlight. Sarah Michelle opened the passenger door and before she got in, her smirk widened into a full-blown grin. “No, just a sewer rat.”