Page 21 of Sweetwater and the Witch

She opened her eyes and unclenched her fists. Nothing had changed except that Ethan was in the process of closing the front door. He returned to the hallway and surveyed the surroundings.

“Looks like you were going to stash him in the closet,” he said. “But it would be better to dump him in the Underworld.”

“Later,” she said. Her heart was still racing. She took another deep breath.Release.“I was going to do that after the reception.”

“Ditch him in the Underworld?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “There’s a hole-in-the-wall entrance down in the basement. It’s one of the reasons I bought this place. But I wasn’t sure how to get him downstairs without, you know, killing him, and time was running out. And you’re early, damn it.”

Great. She was babbling.

“Again, I apologize for the six minutes, but maybe I can atone by taking care of Willis for you.”

“Oh, shit.” A fresh tide of unease threatened to drown her. “You know who he is?”

“Garrett Willis, owner of the Lucky Quartz casino and hotel. Rumored to have inherited the family talent for probability theory. Speaking of which, I’m assuming he didn’t find his way to this end of Midnight Court by chance. Can I ask how the two of you came to be acquainted?”

“We were matched by the Banks matchmaking agency. He was my most recent failed date, number thirty-six.”

“You’ve had thirty-six failed dates?” Ethan said, brows elevating a little. “Maybe you need to try another agency.”

“Excuse me, but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m in a situation here.”

“Right. And if we don’t get moving, we’ll be late for the reception. I believe these are yours.” He handed the heels to her. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Where are you—?”

She stopped talking, because he was already going out the front door. Harriet scurried after him, curious. They both reappeared a couple of minutes later. Ethan had an object in his hand.

“What is that?” she asked warily.

“The universal solution to ninety-seven percent of life’s problems. Duct tape. Hey, Harriet.”

Harriet rose on her hind paws. The tips of her ears peeked out from her dryer lint fur. There was an air of alert readiness about her. She was ready for the next game.

“Catch,” Ethan said.

He tossed the roll of duct tape. Harriet caught it in her two front paws and chortled madly.

“If that stuff gets into her fur—” Ravenna said. “Never mind.”

Priorities.

Ethan peeled off his black jacket and handed it to Ravenna. She couldn’t think of anything else to do, so she took it. The jacket was warm from the heat of his body. The sensation was oddly reassuring. She wasn’t dealing with the Willis situation on her own. She had help, evidently the nonjudgmental kind. That should probably worry her, but she had other problems at the moment.

Ethan tossed the unconscious Willis over his shoulder and looked at her. “Why don’t you show me where the basement stairs are located?”

She stepped into the heels and led the way. When she reached the door in the middle of the hallway, she opened it and rezzed the lights. She gripped the railing and went down the steps into the two-hundred-year-old basement. The whisper of Underworld psi drifted in the atmosphere.

“I think he was stoned on something,” she said.

Ethan followed her, carrying his burden as if Willis were a sack of dirty laundry. Excited by the prospect of an excursion into the tunnels, Harriet, clutching the roll of duct tape, scampered after them.

“What makes you think he was drugged up?” Ethan asked.

“It was as if he had undergone a personality transplant,” she said. “On our date he was a perfect gentleman. Charming. We had a pleasant evening but that was the end of it. We both agreed we weren’t a good match, at least not good enough for a Covenant Marriage. That was the last time I saw him. Tonight he showed up with the mag-rez. Evidently he’s been stalking me for a while now.”

“You had a stalker?” Ethan’s tone was unnervingly neutral. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

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