Home > Dirty Magic (Prospero's War #1)(18)

Dirty Magic (Prospero's War #1)(18)
Author: Jaye Wells

To the left of the ring, a couple of desks were pushed in a corner. Each had an ancient laptop chugging away on the surface. Along the opposite brick wall, beneath large metal-framed windows, speed bags, punching bags, a few pairs of cracked gloves, and a couple of jump ropes made up what passed for the workout room. In the front right corner of that same wall, slabs of plywood separated the rest of the space from what appeared to be a lab, if the beakers I spied through the cracks were any indication.

I took in all of that quickly and turned my attention to the agents who were staring me down. Since I was coming onto their turf, I went ahead and spoke first. “Special Agent Gardner around?”

A petite female with the spiky black hair and cocky posture that screamed she had whatever the chick version of a Napoleonic complex was jerked her chin up. “Who wants to know?”

“Officer Kate Prospero, BPD. She’s expecting me.”

“Hey, Morales,” she called over her shoulder.

From further back in the room, I spotted a dark-haired male with his back to us. He sat on a stool reading a paper at a makeshift coffee bar. “What?” He didn’t turn around.

“Gardner say anything to you about expecting company?”

One wide shoulder rose toward his ear. “Nope.”

“You sure you got the right address, girlie?” This from a tall Asian guy with dreadlocks. Each strand was decorated with beaded charms and small potion amulets, and a pair of lab goggles was perched on the top of his head. The alchemical symbols tattooed up his left arm marked him as a wizard—probably the team’s lab wiz. He wore black jeans, a white T-shirt, and a vintage embroidered vest. As he spoke his dark eyes sparkled with mischief and a smile flirted with his lips.

I realized then that I was the only one in the room wearing a suit. The chick wore jeans, a concert T-shirt, and combat boots. Morales, from what I could see from this distance, also wore jeans and an untucked plaid shirt with scuffed motorcycle boots. Looked like I’d misunderstood Gardner’s instructions when she’d told me to dress as though I belonged in the MEA. My damned suit couldn’t have made me look more like I didn’t belong.

I crossed my arms and tried not to let my embarrassment show. Looked like MEA cops liked hazing new recruits as much as the BPD did. “How about you stop fucking around and go get your boss?”

Silence. Heavy, damning silence.

Morales stiffened and turned slowly in his chair. The room pulsed with tension for what felt like a full minute before Morales stood up. His chair’s creak sounded like a scream in the silence. His boot heels made ominous thumps on the stained wooden floor. Finally, he pushed past the chick. She looked up at him with something resembling worship, and I figured he was most likely Gardner’s number two.

He looked like the kind of guy whose cologne was made from gasoline and whisky. The dark scruff of beard was probably a look he used for undercover work, but combined with his full lips it was hard not to think about work under the covers. Broad shoulders and large hands that looked as if they weren’t strangers to making fists. The kind of cop who’d laugh if a suspect punched him. Then smile as he applied a boot heel to the perp’s neck.

Despite the dark and dangerous exterior, his brown eyes sparked with intelligence that told me he wasn’t a typical muscle-bound idiot. Looked like Pen had been right about the eye candy. But then, I’d always been attracted to assholes. They were so much less complicated than nice guys.

“Officer what?” His voice was as calloused as his hands.

I raised my chin. “Prospero—Kate.”

“Officer Prospero, were you born this way or has working patrol for the BPD forced your head up your ass?”

My jaw fell open. “Excuse me?”

“One, no cop with any real tactical experience would show up to work on a task force wearing a cheap suit and high heels.” He ran his fingers over the lapel of my jacket.

The chick laughed. “Aw, snap!”

I swatted his hand away only to receive his nose in my face. His voice lowered to a menacing tone. “Two, no one with half a brain would walk into a room full of veteran MEA agents and insult them unless they’re begging for an ass kicking.”

The Asian guy frowned. “Drew,” he said in a warning tone.

Morales shot a look at him and crossed his arms. When he looked back at me, he leaned in and whispered, “You want to play with the big boys, Cupcake? Stop acting like an idiot.”

I stared him in the eye. Looking away would have been like offering up my backside for an alpha dog. He might be hot, but there was no way the cocky bastard was coming anywhere near my ass.

“That’s quite enough, Special Agent Morales.” Gardner’s voice cut through the room like a gunshot.

The corner of Morales’s mouth lifted. He hooked a finger in my necklace and flipped it up. “Nice pearls, by the way.”

My cheeks flared with a mixture of shame and anger. A thousand words burned like fire at the back of my throat. Before I could spit any of them at him, Gardner’s voice rang out like a shot: “Prospero, my office—now!”

Chapter Nine

Gardner’s office was really little more than a storeroom in the rear of the gym with a desk wedged in among metal shelving and file boxes. Dishwater-gray light filtered through smudged glass in the rusted window frame. The only decoration in the room was a plaque on her desk that read NO BULLSHIT BEFORE 5 P.M.

“Sit,” she snapped.

It wasn’t that I’d expected a warm welcome, but I hadn’t anticipated so much outright hostility. “Did I do something?” I lowered myself into the folding chair across from the desk.

She threw a file folder on her desk and blew out a sigh. “Little advice, Prospero. You want to be a member of this team, you need to try to make friends, not enemies.”

“You might want to remind your team of that. Where I’m from—”

She held up a hand. “I know exactly where you’re from.” Her tone was heavy with subtext. “But this is the MEA, not some dirty magic coven where your street cred is your destiny. Here you earn respect through professionalism and good police work.”

I ground my comeback between clenched teeth. Saying it wouldn’t get me anything but more headaches, and I already felt a tiny ice pick tap, tap, tapping away behind my left eye. “Understood. I’ll try not to hurt their feelings anymore.”

Her eyes narrowed, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “All right. We need to discuss some details of your assignment.”

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