Page 99 of Last Witch Attempt
I could’ve scoffed at the suggestion. Unfortunately for both of us, I’d done just that a few times. He was still bitter about it, andI couldn’t blame him. “I did not sneak out. I promised not to do that again.”
Landon remained dubious. “You had a dream.” He brushed my hair from my face. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
I did just that.
“You didn’t fall back asleep?” I prodded, legitimately worried.
He chuckled.
“I was just thinking.” His fingers were gentle as they moved over my back. He was no longer flirting. He was offering comfort, and he was just as adept at that as offering romance.
I studied his face. Sometimes I could read his emotions. Today he was an enigma. “Please tell me what you’re thinking,” I pleaded. “I can’t decide how I feel about it until I know how you feel.”
He smiled. “That’s a little codependent.”
“Maybe, but it’s not just because you’re my husband. I value your input as an FBI agent.”
He bobbed his head. “I guess I’m thinking that killing her is wrong.”
“I don’t think I can kill her. But that’s not what I meant.”
Surprise had Landon’s eyebrows winging up.
“She said one of the men had magic. If he killed the naiad—and knew what he was doing—that makes him a potential enemy.”
Landon rubbed his cheek as he kept a firm grip on me. “Any ideas on who it is?”
“No, but I thought we could have Mom and the aunts look at the list of workers. They’re more familiar with certain names. They might be able to point us in the right direction.”
“Good idea. What about the naiad? I get that you don’t want to kill her—and I’m on your side—but…”
“She said there’s a door in the lake.”
Realization dawned on his face. “You’re going to get Scout to open the door and shove her through.”
“It is Scout’s specialty.”
“Way to use your contacts, baby,” he teased before kissing my forehead. It didn’t take long for him to turn serious. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little worried about this. We’ve faced worse problems, but this one has a lot of moving pieces if you include Millie.”
“Millie is her own problem.”
“Any ideas on how to deal with her?”
“Not off the top of my head.”
“Well, you’ll figure it out.” He squeezed me once, then rolled away. “We should get in the shower. We don’t want to be late for breakfast.”
I narrowed my eyes at his impressive backside, suspicious. “I thought you were on a diet.”
“Don’t say ‘diet.’ I don’t like that word.”
“I thought you were moderating your food intake.”
“I am. But it’s better to do it incrementally.”
“Really?” It took everything I had to keep from laughing. “How does that work?”
“Well, for starters, instead of going from ten slices of bacon a day to three, I should’ve been more mindful and stepped it down.” He used his hands to indicate stairs.
