Naughty Karma: Karmic Consultants, Book 7 (7 page)

“Sure. Do you want us to…?” Ronna pointed toward the outer office.

Karma shook her head, hoping the gesture didn’t look as desperate as she felt. She did
not
want to be left alone with Prometheus. “This will only take a moment,” she assured Ronna and Matt before turning to face the man of the hour.

Prometheus stretched out on the couch, entirely too comfortable in her space for her liking. “I take it I’m being dismissed?”

“I’ll have work for you tomorrow. If you really mean what you said about assisting me for the next three weeks, you’ll help me now by leaving.”

“Guess I can’t argue with that.” He rolled to his feet, slowly straightening to his full height. His gaze met hers and held, magnetic, drawing her in and making her feel like they were the only two people in the world, let alone the office, even though Ronna and Matt waited next to her desk not ten feet away. “If you can think of any reason you might need me,” Prometheus said in silky invitation, “any reason at all, you know how to find me.”

Her heart was still hammering when the door closed behind him. Karma took a moment to collect herself, then raised her chin, shot her cuffs and strode around her desk, gathering more composure with each purposeful step. By the time she faced Ronna and Matt, she felt like herself again.

“I’ll be brief and then you can get back to your weekend. I apologize again for the necessity.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ronna said, taking one of the chairs facing the desk, Matt settling down beside her. “You saved Matt from being nagged into retiling the bathroom, and a chance to get a hand on the infamous Prometheus? I wouldn’t miss it. The man was a fascinating read.”

Karma folded her hands on top of her desk, fighting the urge to lean forward that would betray her eagerness. “You didn’t hold anything back, did you? He was really truthful? And you didn’t…” She hesitated, feeling strangely like her next question was crossing a line even though it was standard debriefing protocol following one of Ronna’s reads. “You didn’t get anything else?”

“He was as truthful as he knows how to be.” Ronna shrugged. “He could easily have been hiding more. I didn’t pick up any surface thoughts or anything like that, though when I first touched him I did get a few images, but they went by too quickly for me to get a good look. Mostly I got an overwhelming sense of
strength
from him. Like if mental toughness were athletic ability, he’d be a decathlete.”

“Any other insights?”

Ronna frowned, her eyes going distant. “He’s not immoral, so much as amoral. When people are lying to themselves or rationalizing their behavior, sometimes I’ll hear echoes of that, but Prometheus doesn’t seem to know how to second guess himself. Just not wired that way, I guess. He’s very linear.” Her eyes focused sharply and her face lit with a smile. “Like you! He felt very similar to when I read you.”

Not sure that’s a good thing
. “Thank you, Ronna. And Matt. I appreciate both of your assistance.”

Matt stood, taking Ronna’s hand. “Glad you called us. Can’t be too careful with something like that.”

No, you can’t.
But Prometheus had agreed to cooperate and he didn’t have ulterior motives where her people were concerned.

Now all she had to do was figure out what she was going to do with him for the next three weeks.

“No. Absolutely not. No fucking way.”

Karma stared down her favorite exorcist, waiting for him to complete his tantrum. She reminded herself that she liked Rodriguez, even when he was being a pain in the ass. The tattooed bad boy with a heart of gold had always reminded her a little of Jake. She tried to focus on that now—rather than the fact that he was making her life difficult. Or the throbbing pressure that had been building inside her skull all morning. Her patience was shot, but it wasn’t Rodriguez’s fault she hadn’t been able to get more than twenty consecutive minutes of sleep the night before, plagued by a series of nasty premonitions, including several of the drowning variety.

She’d called Ciara as soon as Ronna and Matt departed yesterday, determined to warn her to be especially careful in her pool for the next week, but the finder hadn’t answered her phone. That in itself wasn’t unusual—Ciara always ignored her phone when she was working and she kept odd hours. Karma had left a message, telling herself she was overreacting, that she had days before the dream crossed into reality. But the hunch that something was seriously wrong refused to leave her. When Ciara still hadn’t called back by the evening, Karma had swung by her house.

Ciara was a shut-in. Because of the painful psychic dissonance she felt at the slightest physical touch, she never left her home. But she hadn’t answered the door. The lights were off and no sound came from the massive television Karma knew sat on the other side of the door.

Ciara was missing.

She’d called the FBI department Ciara worked with recovering stolen gems and jewelry, but they’d claimed Ciara wasn’t working a case for them now and had refused to put Karma through to her missing finder’s new handler. She’d called Ciara’s house every hour on the hour just in case she’d made it back home. Under normal circumstances, she would have called in her personal cavalry—nothing like having a private investigator for a brother—but Jake was on his honeymoon. As was her other most reliable finder, Chase.

Which left Karma helpless—a feeling that never sat well with her.

And now she had a pissy exorcist to deal with.

Rodriguez switched to Spanish and continued to vent his spleen. Karma waited, thinking longingly of the meditation she would do as soon as she had fifteen minutes to recenter. Rodriguez wasn’t being unreasonable. She was asking him to babysit a man he had good reason to hate.

But understanding where he was coming from didn’t mean she was going to take no for an answer.

“Rodriguez,” she said sharply, cutting into his tirade, which had diminished to Spanish mutterings.

“I won’t do it.”

“He’s agreed to cooperate.”

Rodriguez snorted. “And you believe him?”

“I had Ronna read him. He’s no angel, but he’ll be using his powers for good. For the time being.”

Her exorcist folded his arms, black tribal tattoos rippling across his forearms. “I won’t trust him. Nothing you can say would make me.”

“Good. I picked you because I knew you wouldn’t let him get away with anything.”

“Lucky me.”

Rodriguez might hate it, but he was the perfect choice. She needed someone to wrangle the slippery warlock and she could be certain Rodriguez wouldn’t take any shit from him. She couldn’t do it herself—not only because she had a finder to track down and a business to run, but because after yesterday she felt the definite need for some distance. Prometheus disturbed her. She needed her calm.

Her head throbbed, more evidence that she didn’t need this stress, but she ignored the pain. “He has demonstrated a definite knack for handling demons.”

“
Summoning
them,” Rodriguez snapped. “Summoning them to harass my girlfriend. And teaching bored housewives to summon them so they can make my life hell.”

“The control necessary to summon is the same skill needed to exorcise.”

“I won’t be nice to him.”

Karma felt a smile quirk her lips. “That’s the other reason I picked you. He’s supposed to make amends. That doesn’t mean we have to make it easy for him.” She reached for a file on her desk. “Apparently there’s a possible nest of mischief demons upstate. Take him with you.” Rising, she handed Rodriguez the folder.

He took the folder, shaking his head ruefully, but she knew she had him. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

She smiled. It wasn’t luck. Rodriguez was reliable. She’d known she could count on him. He started toward the door, but Karma stopped him at the threshold with a last minute instruction. “Rodriguez? Give him hell.”

Chapter Nine

The Amateur Boy Scout

Prometheus arrived for his summons at Karmic Consultants on Monday morning prepared to suck up like there was no tomorrow.

No ass left unkissed, that was his new strategy.
Especially if that ass is Karma’s
. This was his chance to play the Boy Scout—since it had become apparent he wasn’t going to get the upper hand unless he earned Karma’s trust, something that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen if he acted naturally. His new plan consisted of bombarding them with so much sweetness and light these Karmic goodie-goodies wouldn’t know what hit them.

He shoved open the front door with an absent pulse of magic, both hands filled with lattes and muffins that should damn well taste better than ambrosia after he’d paid the GDP of a small country for them at the Starbucks around the corner. You’d think a caramel macchiato was liquid gold for what they were charging for the things.

On any other day he might have taken the time to drop a hex charm or two on the corporate bastards as a punishment for price gouging, but today he was being a good boy. No matter how much that halo might chafe.

The ray of sunshine seated at the receptionist desk looked up as the door shut behind him, her brown curls bobbing as she beamed at him with enough cheer it was a miracle rainbows didn’t shoot out of his ass. “Welcome to Karmic Consultants! How can we help you?”

“I’m Prometheus. I believe Karma’s expecting me.” He flashed his most charming smile and extended a Styrofoam cup of caffeinated temptation. “Nectar of the gods?”

She ignored the proffered Starbucks manna as her eyes lit up with a blinding enthusiasm rather than any sort of cognitive awareness.
Nobody home at Casa Receptionist.

“You’re Prometheus!” she parroted with a disconcerting delight he’d never before heard associated with his name. “I’m Brittany. I’m the one you summoned a demon to stalk. Not that I hold that against you. The things we do for love, right? Karma’s with a consultant at the moment. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll let her know you’ve arrived.” She bounded out of her chair, waving him toward the seating area off to one side of the lobby.

Wary of her enthusiasm, Prometheus obediently took a seat and barely eavesdropped at all when she plucked up the desk phone and murmured into it, alerting Karma to his arrival. When the bubbly brunette hung up the phone, she looked up to find him watching her and beamed.

“You don’t look at all like I expected,” she enthused, rounding the receptionist desk to perch on one of the waiting area chairs opposite him. “Like Spock.”

Prometheus couldn’t tell whether she was saying he looked like Spock, she’d expected him to look like Spock, or that Spock didn’t look like she expected him to either. None of which gave him any clue how she expected him to respond anyway, so he tried the peace offering route again, thrusting out the Styrofoam tray. “Starbucks?”

She blinked, returning from whatever planet she visited in her off moments. “Hmm? Oh, no, thank you. Luis is still holding a grudge about that whole kidnapping, demon-summoning thing and made me promise not to accept anything you’ve touched.”

He jolted, sloshing the coffee onto the lids, startled more by her honesty than the blatant distrust. “Smart man. Who’s Luis?”

She bounced on her chair like a five-year-old with a secret. “My boyfriend.” Her eyes flicked to the door to Karma’s office then back to his face. “How long have you been in love with Karma?”

If he’d been drinking, he would have sprayed the lobby with coffee. As it was, he jerked like she’d Tased him and the four brimming cups of liquid gold macchiato tumbled toward the floor in a hot caramel tidal wave. Prometheus
caught
them before the first drop of liquid could touch the carpet, reversing the flow and wrangling the coffee back into cups that were suddenly neatly vertical again.

“Whoops.”

Bubbles the Receptionist gaped at him, mouth open, eyes saucer-wide. “You… Oh my. You just…
gosh.
”

Only a woman like Sunshine here could make the word
gosh
work for her. Prometheus set the coffee beside the artfully splayed magazines on the table and gave a shrug. “Figured you didn’t want the rug to stain.”

That seemed to snap her out of her shock. She blinked, beamed and bounced. “Yep. I don’t have the first idea how to get a coffee stain out of a rug, but I’m getting really good at laundry!”

There was something very wrong with Karma’s receptionist. No one should be that excited about laundry. One of Prometheus’s favorite magical perks was that he hadn’t had to do a load of colors in twenty years. “Uh-huh,” he said, in what he hoped was an encouraging tone, not an I’m-mentally-fitting-you-for-a-strait-jacket one.

Before Brittany could wax rhapsodic on the joys of laundry, the door to Karma’s office opened. Prometheus came to attention in his chair, but the figure exiting the office and sealing it after himself could not have been more opposite from the elegant, contained proprietress of Karmic Consultants.

He was Latino, slightly above average height—which meant Prometheus towered over him—and thick, black tribal tattoos marked his arms from his wrists to where they disappeared into the short sleeves of his black T-shirt. He might as well have tattooed “Badass” on his forehead.

Sprinkles the Wonder Secretary sprang out of her chair. “Luis!”

Ah, the infamous boyfriend.
Not a pairing he would have predicted. The gang banger and the cheerleader. It was like an after school special gone wrong. Prometheus came to his feet as well, as Luis stalked to the brunette’s side.