The Witch and the Englishman (The Witches Series Book 2) Read online

  Kobach sipped the vodka, anticipation swelling in the pit of her stomach with the knowledge that it was only a matter of time before she would be the most respected, feared, and powerful human being on Earth.

  Chapter Four

  The explosion was deafening.

  I was being tossed back and landed hard on my back. I cried out. Debris and dust were everywhere and I could no longer see him. A minute ago, he’d been right there. Right in front of me, reaching out for me. Telling me that everything was okay. I heard another man’s voice now. Who was calling me? I recognized it but it wasn’t my dad. I could hear the drone of a helicopter. Where was Dad?

  Then I saw him. What was left of him—blood and his...his...oh god, Daddy!” I screamed. “Daddy! No!”

  “Kylie, hey Ky. Come on. Wake up. Wake up.”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and the familiar voice of Noah—soothing, comforting. “Come on, you’re okay. Bad dream.”

  I wiped what I knew were tears from my eyes and blinked several times. “Yeah. Bad dream.”

  “Considering what you were just put through, it’s a no-brainer that you’re a little bit, um, freaked.”

  I nodded, agreeing with his assessment, not wanting him to know the truth. I never spoke of my nightmares or what caused them. Only Grant Simms knew the entire truth, and I suspected there was more that he knew about that day when I was only ten and my father was killed right in front of me. But neither one of us cared to open that door. There was still too much there. Too much pain and grief and anguish. I didn’t care to go back there ever—at all. I wished my subconscious would get with that program.

  I sat up and immediately wished I hadn’t. Shockwaves of pain ripped through my shoulder and, seemingly, every square inch of my frame. It didn’t matter how long I spent in the gym, or jogging or the hellish hand-to-hand training PSI agents went through on a nearly daily basis. Every fight and gun battle resulted in days of aches and pains.

  The life of an agent. A life I most certainly hadn’t chosen for myself.

  I was in a helicopter, swooping low over what I knew to be the hills connecting San Diego County to Orange County. Beautiful country. Too bad I felt like I might vomit. Probably a damn good thing I hadn’t had that Patrón, after all.

  Noah was sitting next to me where I had been snoozing, of all places, on his own shoulder. No wonder I had slept so peacefully. Sleeping on Noah’s shoulder was a place I had often wished to be. But had no right to. Noah, after all, was a married man. I thought about what had happened between us in Mexico only two nights ago. I’d kissed him. We’d had margaritas. I said that I was going to bed. I went to my room. Noah went to his. But five minutes later, he’d knocked on my door—just wanted to be sure that I was prepared for the next day. I told him that I was. However, there was something in his eyes—smoldering heat is what I saw, and the next thing I knew, he had his arms around me. He kissed me then—hard, passionate, hot. I kissed him back until I started to get to that point where I knew inside there would be no turning back.

  Married, I reminded myself. And I’m no home wrecker. I think. I asked him to leave. But, there is this part of me as horrible as it seems and sounds that is wishing I hadn’t asked him to go.

  “I would never let anyone hurt you, Ky,” he said earnestly, snapping me back to the right then and there. “I am sorry I wasn’t there for you earlier last night with Rodriguez.”

  I nodded, still thinking about the dream, still thinking about what had become of my father—still thinking about the other night—the kiss.

  I had watched my dad die. Watched his body being torn to shreds. Right before my eyes. I had been only ten. Ten.

  I shook my head again and looked at Noah’s handsome face. “Let’s drop it. Our lines got crossed. I know you did the best you could under the circumstances. I’m just glad...” my voice trailed off. I hope he was getting the clue that I wanted to drop all of it—the dream and our kiss, the team’s late arrival that nearly cost me my life. It had all been a moment in time, and now in the past, where all of it needed to remain.

  “Glad for what?” he asked, and I saw his jawline ripple a little. Never a good sign with Agent Noah Kensington.

  “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “That Ayden was there?”

  “Do you blame me?” I asked. “We all have our gifts. This time, his gift saved my ass.”

  “And my gift nearly killed you.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” He took in a lot of air and looked out the chopper’s cabin window at the landscape slipping rapidly past.

  Hear No Evil

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  About the Author:

  J.R. Rain is an ex-private investigator who now writes full-time in the Pacific Northwest. He lives in a small house on a small island with his small dog, Sadie, who has more energy than Robin Williams.

  Please visit him at www.jrrain.com.

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