Page 42 of Strike It Witch

“Yes, that’s what I dressed for today. To soothe Ronan’s bad mood.”

“Well,” she lifted one shoulder in half shrug, “maybe it isn’t what you dressed for this morning, but it can’t hurt to use your looks to your advantage. Never failed me.” She winked.

The woman had a point. I snatched up my tacos and drink and went to Ronan’s office.

Two upholstered chairs were wedged in front of an antique mahogany desk. Three wide matching bookcases lined the wall behind the desk, and that was the extent of the decoration in the room, except for a couple of framed photos on the top center shelf.

One picture was of a woman in front of a café. She looked to be in her fifties and had pale white skin, tons of freckles, and braided auburn hair. That had to be his mom.

The other was of an Afro-Latina teenager in a graduation cap and gown. She had short, curly brown hair and an ear-to-ear smile. I recognized Aurora, his little sister.

The rest of the shelves were packed with binders and stacks of papers, file boxes, some water bottles, and several clear containers filled with what looked like bar supplies. Ronan didn’t entertain in this office, he worked in it.

I shut the door behind me and sat in one of the chairs. Anger was wafting off Ronan in waves. He tossed the lavender I’d given him last night into a tiny flower agate bowl on his desk. It was wilted, drained of all its calm.

“Taco?” I set the five remaining tacos on the desk and chose the papa. The rest I pushed across the desk to him. “They’re from El Rancho Grande.”

He sat fuming while I unwrapped my potato taco and bit into it. I sank into my seat, my mind adrift on a cloud of taco-induced ecstasy.

“You look satiated, and you’re only halfway through that thing,” he grumbled.

“It's a taco,” I said, washing the bite down with a drink of the sweet jamaica before taking another. "It had me at hello."

He slipped off his shades and set them aside. If his eyes had been glowing before, they weren’t anymore. He pulled the foil-wrapped bundles close and took a sniff. “Damn, those cats make good tacos. Chorizo, adobada, and potato?”

“Yep. I chose the adobada especially for you.”

He unwrapped the first one. “How’d you know I like them?”

“Most wolves do. A dozen adobada tacos at El Rancho Grande is called the full moon special for a reason.” I polished off my taco and snagged a napkin from the bag to wipe my hands. “Got any more of those Valentine’s Day polvorones?”

His smile started out slow, but soon took over his entire face and brought his shoulders down from around his ears. He pulled open a desk drawer and tossed one to me. “Betty, I don’t know how you managed to make me not want to punch the wall anymore, but you did it.”

“T’was the tacos,” I said.

“T’was it?” He bit into one, and I unwrapped the cookie. “I don’t know. I’ve rage-eaten tacos before.” He chewed, swallowed. “Maybe it’s the flower in your hair.”

“Oh good, it’s working. Gladys suggested I use my feminine wiles to soothe you.” I shook my cup to remix the crushed ice with the sweet hibiscus tea.

“She's a genius. Tacos and feminine wiles are two of my favorite things.”

He finished the tacos, and I ate my cookie, and then we got down to business.

“I confirmed the deal with Alpha.” He cracked open a bottle of water and took a healthy slug. “I want you to know I don’t like any of this.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.” Hell, it wasn’t even the most dangerous thing I’d donethis week.

“This book…” He scrubbed his hand over his face. Sighed. “It’s important to him. You’re right. He didn’t even haggle. He’s giving you Gladysandthe thirty percent.”

Which meant he didn’t expect me to succeed. Well, wouldn’t he be surprised?

I hoped.

Ronan withdrew a card from the back pocket of his jeans and slid it across the desk. “Here’s the bookseller’s card. They’re based in L.A. I want to go with you to meet with this person.”

“Unnecessary.” I tucked the card into my purse and plucked the wilted lavender out of the tiny bowl, examining it the way a jeweler would a precious stone.

“Necessary.” Ronan stood, his wolf behind his eyes. “I don’t like it, Betty. Something is wrong with the situation.”

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