

### Kissin' Hell: A That Old Black Magic Story

### By

### Jodi Redford

"Kissin' Hell"

Copyright 2014 Jodi Redford

Edited by JL Stalker

Published by Jodi Redford

Cover by Becky McGraw

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or

dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

**ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.** No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the web-without permission in writing from the author.
CHAPTER ONE

"Now taking number 5,389."

Jericho Stryker grimaced at the monotone male voice booming over the central speaker. Thank the devil he didn't have to wait around for a damn number to be called.

Firming his grip on the wiggling and bitching spirit trying to escape his hold, he continued pushing his way through the congested lineup blocking the main gatehouse to the Death Wards. Unlike the majority of the soul collectors waiting to process their bounties, Jericho relied on no extraneous gizmo to transport his spook. Just one of the many benefits of his hellhound DNA. The other invaluable perk was his priority booking privileges—a status that clearly went over like a bag of bricks with the bozos surrounding him, judging from their grumbles and the occasional outraged F bomb flung his way. Tough shit for them. After logging a fifty hour shift he was damn well gonna take advantage of his free pass to the finish line.

Offering a growl to the trio of demons intent on crowding the entrance, Jericho slammed through the aggravating blockade, using the over-amped paranormal juice of his acquired bounty as an impromptu cattle prod.

The closest demon jumped back, cursing a blue streak. "What the fuck, Stryker! Trying to roast my nuts off?"

"That'd require you having some." Ignoring the death glare from the demons, Jericho steered his collection past the gatehouse and toward the central booking station. The lines were ridiculous there too, but not quite as hideous as the one he'd left behind.

Several of his hellhound colleagues were already camped out in the processing queue, their loud voices and crude chatter garnering disdainful glances from the quartet of hellcats in the neighboring row. Two of the hounds broke into an exuberant belching contest with a side order of ball scratching. A collective shudder tripped through the female hellcats.

Jericho bit back a chuckle. There was no greater joy in life for a hound than ruffling some prissy pussy cat fur, and those pain in the ass hellcats made it all too easy. A hard clap on his shoulder tore Jericho's musings from the nearby cats. He swung his attention to the left and met Connor's grinning mug. His best mate's eyes sparkled a challenge. "Beat ya here by three minutes. Looks like you'll be getting that new tat after all."

Sonofabitch. He was still getting shit over the damn angel wings Con insisted on after their last bet. No telling what he'd get saddled with this time. "One of these days I need to stop taking your stupid bets."

Con transferred his attention to Jericho's bounty. Inspecting the runt with open curiosity, Con sniggered. "I see management's stickin' ya with the easy cases now that you're getting to be an old man."

Jericho grunted rather than take the bait. "Last time I checked, you're only two months younger than me, jackass."

Con's pearly whites flashed with his smile. "And yet I still respect my elders."

"Punk." Jericho nudged his spook forward when the line moved an inch. "And the kid may not look like much, but the motherfucker sucker punched me the first time I grabbed him."

"No shit." Con surveyed the pipsqueak with renewed respect. "Got some brass balls on ya, boy."

"Who you calling boy?" The kid narrowed his eyes into a squint. "That's real ripe coming from a dog." Cocking his head to the side, the ghost gave three short whistles. Right on cue, every hound within hearing distance perked up its ears. Adopting the most obnoxious singsong voice in history, the kid slapped his knees. "Where's Timmy, boy? Huh? Huh?"

Jericho dug his fingers into his bounty's neck. "Did I also mention he's annoying as shit?"

"Maybe the bosses will do the world a favor and feed him to the leviathans," Con suggested.

"One can only hope." The line crept forward another centimeter and Jericho scooted the spirit along with a well-aimed knee against his behind. Judging from the kid's style choice of saggy-ass jeans low-belted over his visible boxers, he wasn't that long ago deceased. Definitely no later than the last decade. Not that Jericho cared or gave a crap one way or another. Dead folks amounted to a paycheck, plain and simple, and they were all royal pains in the arse regardless of what century they came from. Hence why he couldn't wait to unload this one and finally get his much needed R&R. A quick teleport down to the Bahamas to avail himself of a few frosty Coronas on the beach sounded pretty damn fantastic right about now.

Con hid a yawn behind his fist. "You going to Rafe's party tonight?"

"Fuck no." Jericho scratched his jaw, abrading his fingertips with the bristly stubble of his days-old beard. Shit, he desperately needed a shave. Pretty soon he was going to give his inner hound a run for the money in the hairy department. "I've got a cold one in the fridge with my name written all over it, and after that a minimum of fifteen hours of quality mattress time."

"Yeah?" Con waggled his brows. "Who's the lucky lady?"

Jericho snorted. "I meant sleep."

"Damn. You are getting old."

Sad but true. Back in the day, he'd been all too willing to go sniffing after some pretty tail whenever the opportunity presented itself. Lately he'd gotten lazy. Face it, not a good sign when a nap proved more appealing than putting in some effort to get laid. Then again, his bed didn't demand anything of him. Certainly it wouldn't get up at the crack of dawn and fix him breakfast in a sneaky maneuver to get a commitment out of him. Though truthfully, if his bed could cook steak and eggs he'd put a ring on that shit, pronto.

"You're gonna miss out. I hear the Finelli twins are coming as naughty nurses."

And therein lies the reason Halloween would forever be the bane of Jericho's existence.

On the one hand, the holiday came with awesome benefits like the Finelli twins in skimpy costumes. But on the flip side, Samhain also meant no self-respecting spook would pass up the opportunity to mingle with the living and raise some unholy hell while they were at it. That was the numero uno reason the Death Wards were at maximum capacity tonight, and why Jericho was one tired, cranky son of a bitch.

Ghosts versus Boobs. Damn Halloween to hell for dangling those glorious carrots, only to smack him down with being too exhausted to properly savor them.

Heaving a disgusted sigh, Jericho started to prod the kid closer to the front of the line. A charged current of electricity tickled the fine hairs on Jericho's nape. He stiffened, well aware of the cause for the disturbance in his system, even before the alluring scent of Neroli and jasmine drifted to his nose. He fought the insistent urge of his hound demanding to give in to the beckoning pheromones teasing his senses, but the fierce tingle in his canines announced that they were already stretching in anticipation of nibbling a decadently tasty morsel.

Moments ago his libido had been perfectly content with calling it an early night, but now it was straining at the leash, eager to scratch the itch that'd been plaguing him for the last year.

Resistance a futile battle, he shuffled slightly and glanced over his shoulder. The vision greeting him filled him with competing amounts of lust and teeth-grinding aggravation. Starting from the tops of her knee-high boots, Jericho visually devoured every luscious inch of Lola McKenna. Her skintight red leather catsuit did nothing to downplay her brick house body. Thighs meant for wrapping around a man's waist while he hammered into her hard and deep. Generous breasts the perfect size for pillowing that same fella's face as he palmed their bountiful weight and licked and sucked her nipples until she was squirming, gasping, and coming her brains out underneath him. The fact that he imagined himself being the giver of those orgasms night after night? Big ass complication.

He and Lola were oil and water. Fire and gasoline. Vamps and garlic. Hell, all of those options stood a better chance of coexisting than he and the hellcat.

Sure, she aroused all of his baser instincts. He sure as shit couldn't spend two seconds around her without devolving into a dog with one major case of a raging boner. Did that mean he was going to submit to his hound's desire to sink into her for a leisurely meal?

Fuck. No.

Determination glinting in her golden eyes, Lola strode in his direction. Even the way she walked made him sweat. The seductive sway of her curvy hips leeched his brain of coherent thought and caused his fingers to cramp with the overwhelming need to grip her to him. Preferably while she was riding him like her own personal Sybian pommel horse.

Shaking that enticing image from his mind, he steeled himself for what he presumed to be another of her endless grievances against him. Hard saying what it was this time. Probably the mere fact that he possessed a heartbeat.

She slammed to a halt in front of him, indignant breaths causing her breasts to strain in an enticing display within the snug confines of her catsuit. Much more of that and he'd lose circulation behind his zipper. Fiery energy crackled from her. "You son of a bitch."

"I assume that isn't a rhetorical observation," Jericho countered dryly.

Murder gleamed in Lola's eyes. "Do you have any idea how many hours I put into the Howser case?"

"Why the hell would I know that? I don't keep tabs on your schedule, babe."

A dangerous sound rumbled from the back of Lola's throat. "You probably have no clue who Howser is." She balled her fists when he gave her a blank stare. "Of course you don't. Why bother learning the name of the patient you stole out from under me?"

Not rolling his eyes proved a herculean feat. "Your patient happened to have a hefty bounty on his head, sweetheart. If I hadn't nabbed him someone else sure as shit woulda."

"Is nothing sacred to you?"

"I dunno. That five grand felt like a pretty religious experience while I was rubbing it all over my nekkid body."

Guffaws of laughter fell from his hellhound colleagues. Lola looked like she was seconds away from throwing the mother of all conniption fits. Or clocking him with a blunt object. "Every last one of you mangy cretins should be fired."

Jericho cocked an eyebrow. "Why? Because we happen to be a million times better at this job than you pieces of fluff?"

A stream of hisses issued from the nearby hellcats and the air buzzed with angry tension as Jericho and Lola glared each other down. Any moment now he expected the fur to start flying, but there was no damn way he'd let the uppity Lola or any of her friends win this round. Bottom line, they were on his turf. The hounds had been stationed in the Wards long before these fluffy pain in the necks weaseled their way in with their ridiculous insistence that their method of bringing in bounties was less traumatic to the spooks. He didn't need his heightened hound senses to smell that smoking pile of BS from a mile away.

If anyone was traumatized here, it was him and the rest of his ilk. For having to put up with tight-assed, politically correct cats and dead jerks who delighted in lame Lassie jokes. Fucking A.

"Fluff?" A fierce growl purled from Lola, and Jericho swore he detected the faintest undertone of smoldering brimstone. "Fluff?"

"That's right, Puff Ball."

A yowling shriek tore from Lola. Apparently that was some kind of weird-ass battle cry to the rest of her brethren because every damn hellcat within a fifty foot radius morphed into a spitting cyclone of eye-scratching, howling fury.

Startled yelps and grunts fell from the hounds as a legion of cats leapt on them, biting and clawing furiously. Jericho swung his attention back to Lola just as a fist slammed into his jaw, snapping his head back and breaking his hold on the punk kid who'd sucker punched him—again.

He didn't get paid enough for this shit. Shaking his head to clear the stars, Jericho grabbed for the troublesome spook, only to come up with a handful of air. Aw hell.

They had a runner. Exactly what he didn't need at the moment. Even while he cursed under his breath at that damnable truth, his inner hound went into chase and capture mode.

Once the hunter's haze took hold there was no stopping it. Unfortunately, Jericho wouldn't be the only one pulled into it. A fleeing spook was too much for any hellhound to resist. It was hardwired into their DNA. Add to it the small fact that the kid came with a nice bounty that all of these money-hungry jackwagons would gladly get their paws on, and Jericho was one screwed pooch if he didn't get to his claim first.

Snarling as his vision narrowed with the dilating of his pupils, Jericho scrambled to wrench off his jacket. He pitched it aside just as the seams split on his shirt. Godsdamnit. It was his favorite Metallica concert tee too. One more reason to wring that fucking kid's neck.

Giving up the ghost on any chance of salvaging the rest of his clothes, he allowed his hound full rein to shift into form. His skin tightened, a dense pelt of wiry black fur springing into prominence.

He dropped onto all fours, his claws extending and scraping the jagged granite that landscaped the grounds of the Death Wards. His muscles elongated and stretched to fit his beast's genetic design for power and speed. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a handful of his colleagues abandoning their struggles with the hellcats and jerking their focuses to the tantalizing vapor trail of the fleeing spirit. Dollar signs practically flashing in their eyes, they lifted their chins and snuffed at the air.

Greedy dicks. Whole lot of 'em. Yeah, he was no better, as Lola would no doubt attest to.

Speaking of the little hellcat, she was likely enjoying the shit outta this epic irony. Motherfucker. Strangulation was too good for that damn ghost.

Right before his hound settled fully into its domain, Jericho bit the bullet and glanced in Lola's direction. She was nowhere to be seen.

Well that was mighty surprising. He'd thought for sure she'd stick around to give him a gloating smile, and probably a kick in the nads. Grateful to have one less aggravation to contend with, he sprung from his crouch and barreled after the distant trickle of infuriating laughter from his escaped bounty. He could almost hear that obnoxious singsong voice in his head while his feet ate up the ground. "Where's Timmy, boy? Huh? Huh?"

Screw the leviathans. That punk would make a tasty hellhound chew toy.

Jericho raced toward the dimly-lit warrens of Sector Two. The slight rumble of vibration in the rockbed under him announced that he was roughly twenty seconds away from having unwelcome company. Ratcheting his pace until sparks ignited with each downward strike of his claws on the granite, he galloped onward, keeping his eye on the prize. He hadn't put in a fifty hour shift just to have one of those bastards behind him reap the reward.

Lola chose that moment to inconveniently pop into his mind. "That's what you get, you mangy cretin."

Yeah, that whole irony thing? Sucked balls.

A blur of motion off to the right distracted him from his mental grousing. The shape took on substance, and Jericho squinted at Con. His best mate didn't even have the decency to look the tiniest bit ashamed.

Mama needs a new pair of shoes.

Jericho was feeling grumpy enough to answer Con's telepathic communication with his own decidedly uncharitable response. Really? 'Cause those red high heels look particularly hot when they're up around my ears.

Con's tongue lolled to the side. So you're the one who gave her fleas.

If his best mate wasn't such a low down and dirty mercenary fuck, Jericho would have paw bumped him for that credit-worthy burn. Instead, he veered into the adjacent alley and emitted a triumphant howl at losing Con's tail. An instant later, a heavy weight bodyslammed him into a lamp post, killing his momentary victory and knocking the wind from him.

His roar shaking the metal-roofed containment cells bordering the lane, he untangled himself from the post and shot a death glare at the pack of hounds bulldozing toward the distant intersection. Gnashing his teeth, Jericho bolted after them.

Lungs burning from physical exertion and the inner fire that fueled his system, he closed ranks on the other hounds. Pissed and feeling the need for a little retribution, he bit into Luther's tail and flipped the wily asshole over his back before treating Santos to a similar maneuver. That left him with Regan, Tully, and Con. He could easily outrace everybody but Con. His best mate would definitely make the sprint to the finish line a ballbuster.

Charging ahead of Regan and Tully, Jericho gathered every ounce of energy he possessed and booked it past the intersection. The spook's scent was thick and oh so enticing now. Saliva pooled in Jericho's mouth. He could already taste that five grand, and the meaty promise of that jerk ghost's rump.

Sliding a glance sideways, he noted Con thundering into the alley. Shoulder-to-shoulder, they sized each other up, each wheezing a plume of brimstone smoke.

Con's eyes sparkled with laughter. You really oughta cut down to one pack of cigs a day.

Surely one of these days his best mate would come up with a better joke. You're just jealous because I can smoke your ass. Literally.

Well, old man, guess we're about to see who's the top hunter.

He was really going to enjoy making Con publically state that Jericho held that title.

Determination giving a healthy boost to the energy surging through his cells, he powered up his performance and bound toward the wall looming ahead of them. His bounty's aroma wafted into his sinuses, so strong it nearly diluted the disturbingly familiar fragrance of jasmine. Too intent on seizing his claim to ponder the ramifications of that scent, Jericho slammed through the wooden guard gate centered in the wall, and skid to a screeching halt at the sight of Lola blocking his path, the pipsqueak kid squirming in her clutches.

Claws scrabbling for traction, he wiped out, performing several one-eighties before sprawling in an undignified heap at Lola's feet.

Her full, scarlet-red glossed lips stretching into a smirk, she extended one booted toe and rested it on Jericho's shoulder. "You might be mangy, but at least you heel well."

CHAPTER TWO

Usually it wasn't like her to strut over nabbing a capture, but Lola couldn't resist putting a little extra gusto into her hip swinging motion as she escorted her newly acquired bounty toward the booking station. Jericho stalked along next to her. Or at least she assumed he was there. The furious billows of brimstone smoke pouring from him obscured his form completely. Miracle he wasn't choking out everyone within breathing distance, herself included.

"Godsdamnit, Lola. That bounty is mine."

"Huh. Really? Because I'm pretty sure I didn't see your name written anywhere on him." She slowed her step and made a point of scanning the young man she'd collared. "You didn't use invisible ink, did you?"

Jericho's growl rumbled from somewhere inside the core of the smoke cloud. "Woman, you are getting on my last damn nerve."

"I'm getting on your nerves? Has it completely escaped your memory that you stole my bounty? Turnabout is fair play, the way I see it."

"No, this is entirely different. I didn't deliberately chase after your claim. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time."

She shrugged. "I could say the same."

"And you'd be full of shit."

Lola jerked to a stop, causing her bounty to bump backwards into her with a groan. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder, her natural inclination to soothe jittery spirits temporarily overriding her desire to throttle Jericho. That lasted for about a second when the infuriating hound continued with his name calling behind the cloak of his brimstone curtain. Fingers itching with the urge to haul off and whop him one hard across the noggin, she ground her teeth. "Would you at least do me the courtesy of looking at me while spouting your foulmouthed litany of dispersions against me?"

"I am."

"Like I can bloody well tell that with all the smoke."

Jericho's arm suddenly appeared and he waved it impatiently, quickly dispersing the majority of the acrid cloud. The second he was fully visible, Lola bit her tongue to keep it from rolling from her mouth. Although she hadn't seen him shift from his hound, she'd known the sheer fact that he could speak meant he'd lost the fur and was once again walking around in his human skin. Unfortunately, she'd been too busy being irritated with him to recall that he hadn't exactly carried a change of clothes with him. Meaning she was now treated to the full glory of a buck naked Jericho.

Gulping hard, she stared at the marvelous beauty of him. He easily topped her by half a foot, and she was no petite thing at five eleven. But it wasn't merely his height that made him bigger than life. He was huge everywhere. The broadest shoulders she'd ever seen heavily sculpted with sleek muscle. A chest that could have been carved by Michelangelo himself, and a six pack you could bounce a quarter off of. And because clearly his creator had been a firm believer in taking size to the extreme when it came to Jericho, the hellhound proudly possessed the longest, fattest cock in all probable existence. She didn't doubt for a second that the organ was his pride and joy. The smug grin on his face when she finally lifted her gaze back up to his verified it.

Flustered both at the trembling clench deep in her pussy as well as getting busted at blatantly ogling him, she cleared her throat. "A little warning next time would be nice."

"Why? You had to know I was naked." Jericho's mouth curved upward at one corner. "And curious how you mentioned a next time. What precisely did you have in mind, sugar?"

A fierce blush heated her from the roots of her hair all the way to her toes. Thankfully the Death Ward's perpetual night sky and her mocha complexion would mask the offending response. "It was a figure of speech."

"Ah."

Who knew a single syllable could hold so much damnable canniness? She gestured toward Jericho's manly bits. "Err, maybe you should at least manifest a small cloud towel or something."

Jericho lazily scratched his washboard belly. "Why, am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Dude, you're making me uncomfortable," the spirit crabbed with a shudder.

"Tough shit. You're lucky I haven't made your leg into my chew toy yet."

Lola sighed. "It's precisely those kinds of comments that foster terror in the spirits. Did you learn nothing from our training seminar?"

A scowl homesteaded Jericho's gorgeous features. "Are you talking about that boring ass meeting I fell asleep in the middle of?"

Not strangling him proved near impossible, but somehow she buried the urge and took a deep calming breath instead, desperately seeking her inner Zen. "I would have assumed you at least took the handouts home with you."

"For what? I don't have a damn birdcage to line."

Ooh, frying him on the spot would be too kind to the stubborn jerk. "With that kind of attitude it's no wonder you have to resort to stealing other agent's bounties."

Jericho's eyes narrowed to slits, nearly obscuring his midnight blue irises. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Clearly you don't have the chops for doing this work honestly."

He jabbed a finger in her face. "This is a dog eat dog eat cat business, sweetheart. Only the tough survive, and there's damn good reason I've been the top hunter for seven years straight." He slashed a hand in her bounty's direction. "You honestly think that punk is shaking in his High Tops?"

Lola gave a reassuring pet to the young man's spiky blond hair. "He is trembling."

"Probably because he's holding in a laugh at how delusional you are." Jericho's lips parted in a sneer. "But you know what? He damn well should be quaking at the sight of me. And you. Because fear is the only thing that will get these asstards to toe the line."

"You're wrong. They're human beings."

"Yeah. Dead ones. Who have nothing to do but roam around being big pain in the ass bags of dicks."

"Gods, you are so unbelievably frustrating!"

"Trust me, Puffy, the feeling is mutual."

Would it really be so rotten to smack him upside the head? Just hard enough to knock some decency into him?

Oh who was she kidding? That was physically impossible where he was concerned. "I'm done talking to you."

"Forever? How did I score that sweet deal?"

Ignoring him, she gently prodded her bounty forward. She studiously continued giving Jericho the silent treatment while she engaged the ghost in small talk during the remaining journey to the booking station. By the time they reached the stone-faced building she'd managed to gain the spirit's trust enough that he freely offered his name when she asked. Technically she could have just mentally scanned his soul print and gathered the information from there, but part of her skill at collecting her bounties was her ability to forgo many of the built-in tools of her trade and use the old school approach instead. Amazing what you could convince people to do of their own free will when you weren't haranguing them or threatening to chomp on their ankle.

She slid a glance at Jericho and guestimated from his thinly-veiled irritation that he found her tactics less than acceptable compared to his. That of course being the occasional growl, followed by swearing and the aforementioned limb dismemberment. Rinse and repeat.

Engaging in her own bit of eye rolling, she guided her little entourage through the throng of soul collectors congregated outside the entrance to the booking station. Numerous gazes raked them. She didn't fail to note the appreciative attention Jericho earned from several of her colleagues. Not that she could blame them. He might be an infuriating Neanderthal, but his physique was mouthwatering. Desperately attempting to yank her thoughts safely on track before she started fixating on his cock again, she peered straight ahead and caught the censorious look of her captain, Raina Westin.

A tiny niggle of worry wormed through Lola's tummy. That expression didn't bode good things. Her assessment was substantiated when the captain's mouth tightened. "Lola, a word. Now."

Oh dear. Nerves turning her stomach into a cesspool of anxiety, Lola took a hesitant step forward. The large crowd of soul collectors shuffled away from her as if she'd contracted a severe case of fleas. She had a bad feeling that even that would be preferable to what waited for her beyond those ominously foreboding doors of the station house.

Commander Hamilton, head of the hellhound unit, sidled next to Raina and offered Jericho a fierce scowl. "Your ass too."

Hamilton's choice of words elicited giggles from a few of the more juvenile hellcats as well as chuckles from the hounds. The commander's granite-like expression hinted that he didn't see the humor in the situation. At the moment, Lola didn't particularly feel much like laughing either. She ducked inside the building and ushered her bounty into a holding cell before turning to face her superiors. "I know how it looks, but my capture was a text book takedown."

A grating laugh rolled from Jericho and she shot him a hard glare. "It was."

"Funny, I don't recall the section on bounty stealing in the manual."

"Are you kidding me right now?" She stormed forward until she was nose-to-nose with Jericho. Well, actually nose-to-manboob. He was too damn tall for them to be anywhere on the same level. "When have you ever followed the manual, much less read it?"

"That would be exactly never, sweetheart. Hence why your rules don't apply to me."

Lola balled her fists to keep from smacking him. "How convenient."

Captain Westin folded her arms over her chest and stared Lola down. "Your alleged bounty theft is hardly the issue here. We have a far worse situation on our hands."

Lola wrung her hands. "W—we do?"

The commander abandoned his post next to Raina and whipped a piece of paper in front of Lola's face. "Yes. We do."

Frowning, she cautiously relieved Hamilton of the paper and eyed the glossy printout. You're cordially invited to the first annual Spookapalooza Halloween Rave! Be there when the clock strikes midnight and party like a true dead head! Cover only ten bucks! No discount for missing body parts!

Lola grimaced. "Wow. Whoever wrote this really has a love affair with exclamation marks."

Captain Westin nodded toward the young man in the holding cell. "There's your exclamation Romeo right there."

Lola blinked. "I don't understand. What's going on?"

The commander snatched the paper back and rolled it into a tight tube before slapping it against his thigh. "While you and Full Monty over there were wasting time chasing after your bounty, his cohort in crime managed to give her own collector the slip and break into the security bunker. Our agents apprehended her, but not in time."

Giving her head a slight shake, Lola held up her hand. "Whoa. You're losing me. Who did what? And what do you mean about the not in time part?"

"A little slow on the uptake, McKenna?" Hamilton barked.

Good gods. Were all hellhounds insufferably rude bastards? Bristling, she squared her shoulders. "I apologize, sir, but it's been an incredibly long, frustrating day. I'd appreciate it if you could explain the situation a little better."

"You think your day has been long and frustrating?" Hamilton grunted. "Got news for you. It's just getting started."

Not exactly the most helpful of explanations. Exasperation spiking, she transferred her focus to her captain. "What does any of this have to do with me?"

"You and agent Stryker fell for one of the oldest tricks in the book."

A ferocious glower darkened Jericho's face. "The fuck I did."

Captain Westin leaned her hip on the edge of her desk. "Apparently you need a few things spelled out. As your commander pointed out earlier, the boy was working with a female accomplice. She was all too happy to squeal after the damage was done, so we know that they marked you two immediately as their targets."

"Targets?" Lola asked weakly.

Raina jutted her chin upward. "For creating a distraction, allowing the girl to break into the bunker."

Lola dug her nails into her palms. She'd never screwed up on the job. Not once. What would this do to her record? Would they demote her? Kick her out of the unit completely? Her belly cramped at the possibility. "W-what was she doing in the bunker?"

"Hacking the security system."

"That's impossible," Jericho scoffed.

A patronizing chuckle came from the vicinity of the holding cell. "Not when we're smarter than you, Lassie."

Jericho stalked to the cage and snarled, earning a grin from the kid. His hands curling around the electromagnetically-reinforced bars, Jericho bared his canines. "You think this box protects you from me?"

Hamilton cleared his throat. "Would you stop shittin' around with that punk? He's low on the chain of priorities."

Jericho reluctantly released the bars and rejoined them. Apparently satisfied that she'd corralled their attention the best that she could, Captain Westin continued laying out the facts. "The girl was able to hack into the system and download a teleport link. Agents are working to remove or at the very least override her program as we speak."

Lola swallowed hard. Anxiety and the lingering adrenaline rush from her earlier chase combined into a potent cocktail that left her woozy and her knees the consistency of jelly, but there was no way she'd make things worse for herself by doing something so embarrassing as passing out at her captain's feet. "What happens if they're not successful?"

"Every damn spook in this joint will have a one way ticket to that ghost rave, that's what." Commander Hamilton glared at her and Jericho as if they'd hand-delivered those golden tickets.

Alternate hot and icy cold flashes zipped under Lola's skin. Her entire career was unraveling before her eyes and she felt completely helpless to stop it.

Why oh why had she allowed her pride to get the better of her common sense? She should have walked away from Jericho's antagonistic tactics and let him collect his bounty. Then none of this would be happening.

Suck it up, chicky. Like it or not, you're in the frying pan. Time to do some damage control before her goose was completely cooked. "Sir, whatever I can do to help fix this, count me at your full disposal."

Commander Hamilton cut her off with a disparaging snort. "Damn straight you are."

"There is a backup plan we've decided to employ." For the first time since ordering Lola into the station, Raina softened her tone a notch. "The portal they intend to open requires someone on the other end to essentially unlock the door. That means they have a third accomplice stationed at the party site. Bring that soul into custody, and that rave is dead in the water. No pun intended," Raina finished drolly.

Overwhelming relief flooded Lola's chest. This was her chance at full redemption. Surely they wouldn't fire her if she saved the day by hauling in that ghost. "You can count on me."

A mocking laugh chuffed from Hamilton. "Because clearly you've shown such outstanding discipline up to this point. McKenna, if you think for one second in hell that you're going in there alone, you're an even bigger dunderhead than I originally took you for."

The insult didn't set well on Lola but she wisely kept her lips zipped. "I understand, sir. My unit has some of the best trackers and we'll—"

"Stryker will be your partner."

She stared at Hamilton, certain she'd misheard him. "But..."

"You two are responsible for this clusterfuck. You're going to clean it up. Together."

She whipped her gaze to Jericho and found him eyeing her with the same level of horror currently creeping into every inch of her being. They gaped at each other for a long moment before simultaneously coming to the same assessment of their situation.

"Bloody hell."
CHAPTER THREE

They could have been merciful and stuck him with a million better punishments than this. Chinese water torture? Bring it, bitches. Jockeys made entirely out of poison oak leaves? Give him two pairs. Shit, pulling a month-long shift at that haunted Chuck E Cheese in Lafayette was preferable to him and the hellcat partnered together.

What the hell was Hamilton thinking? His teeth in danger of being ground to dust, Jericho swung open the door to his storage locker and fetched the spare stash of clothes he always kept on standby. Grumbling a few choice curses, he yanked on his briefs and jeans before tugging his black T-shirt over his head. He lowered his ass onto the bench where someone had considerately tossed his leather jacket. Bending forward, he jammed his feet into his boots. The click of heels on the locker-room floor announced the arrival of company. The kind he most definitely didn't want. Jerking his gaze upward, he met Lola's mulish glare.

She plopped her fists onto her wet-dream-inspiring hips. "Just so we're clear, I'm fully against this partnership."

"That makes two of us, babe."

"Also, I'd really appreciate it if you'd refrain from calling me that. I find it immensely condescending."

"Whatever you say, babe." Yeah, he shouldn't enjoy needling her as much as he did. But if he was going to be saddled with her tonight he might as well find pleasure the few meager places he could.

She inched closer, filling his entire line of vision and placing her crotch dead center in his crosshairs. His hound immediately reacted to her proximity and the alluring feminine musk emanating from her. Cock traitorously hardening, he licked his chops. He'd availed himself of plenty of pussy in his life. Just not the literal kind. Did she purr while she was coming? Inquiring doggie minds suddenly wanted to know.

Down, boy. Ignoring the grumpy growl of his hound, Jericho averted his attention from the enticing V hugging her mound and tugged his jeans over the tops of his boots.

"The captain gave me the coordinates for the party site."

"Fantastic. Let's get the gig officially started so we can nab this asshole and put an end to this fiasco."

"Uh, I'm not so sure it's going to be that simple."

He dragged his focus to her again, impatience and lack of sleep making him crankier than his hound over getting the boner smackdown. "Listen up, sweetheart. I know you're going to be a major handicap tonight, so how about you do us both a favor and let me handle the heavy lifting. Or hell, just let me take care of all of it."

If her gaze was capable of delivering instant death no doubt he'd be toast already. "Firstly, I'm not about to hand over that ghost to you so you can stick it to me again. Secondly, if there's anyone here who's going to fuck things up, it's clearly you."

"Yeah? Maybe you better switch your meds. Delusions seem to be getting outta hand."

"Har har. Your continued arrogance merely proves my point. You're a liability I can't afford."

"Too bad you're stuck with me."

"My thoughts exactly." Her acidic smile could have burned through metal. "Seeing how we're both of the same mind, it would behoove us to go with my proven method of spirit extraction."

"Fuck that. Only way to get the job done is snatch that dipshit and get the hell out of Dodge before midnight."

"You're assuming they're going to be walking around with a sign saying 'Hey, I'm the Keymaster of Gozer! Party on, Garth!'" She twitched her nose. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm wondering which one of us is Bill Murray."

"Neither. And you're clearly the demon dog that crashed the party."

He grinned despite himself. "True dat. We are both handsome sonsofbitches."

The corner of her lip twitched before she could hide it. That tiniest hint of a smile fascinated him more than he cared to admit.

It was infinitely safer to cubbyhole Lola as nothing more than a troublesome inconvenience. Learning she was a Ghostbusters and Wayne's World fan on top of having a pretty wicked sense of humor wasn't an interesting enticement he needed lurking in his brain. He already had enough of a conundrum with constantly lusting after her luscious body. "Back to the issue of our spook. If we have to, we just reap every last dead asshole within a one block radius of the party site."

"That's where the hiccup comes in." Lola chewed her thumbnail. "It's at The Dahlia Wolf."

Mother. Fucker. Why couldn't something go right today?

"Dahlia Morganville's amnesty—"

He halted Lola with a hard look. "Doesn't extend to anyone but herself." There was no damn way he'd let a dead bordello madam stand in his way. Dahlia might have Death's top level management wrapped around her ghostly pinky finger in return for all the slap and tickle they wanted from Dahlia's girls, but no amount of spook pussy was gonna deter him in this mission.

"We still have Nolan to deal with."

"You think I'm worried about that wolf?"

Lola rolled her eyes. "Yes, I get it. You're badass. But Nolan isn't exactly a shrinking violet either. He's sent plenty of our colleagues home with an unfortunate imprint of his teeth decorating their rears."

There'd be wolfie barbecue on the menu if that jackass werewolf even considered pulling that stunt on Jericho. One way or another, this ghost rave party was getting the plug pulled. If that witch Dahlia Morganville and her familiar lackey didn't like it, tough shit. Jericho pushed up from the bench and looked Lola square in the eye. "I'll say it again. I'm more than happy to go this alone."

Lola's mouth tightened. "And I told you that I'm not simply handing that ghost over to you."

"Then stop being a pussy, and let's do this." He held out his hand, palm up.

She stared at him for a long moment before finally giving a resigned sigh and settling her delicate hand over his much bigger one. An unexpected spark of energy shot between them, causing them both to jump. "Oh." Her breathless tone making him hard as a baseball bat, she wobbled, the motion jostling her breasts against his chest. He had only a moment to enjoy the sensation before they were sucked into the endless void of teleport space.

Color and light sparkled around them as indecipherable objects hurtled past. The dimensions stretched, bending and spiraling until snapping in place with a harsh jolt. Wobbling again, Lola clutched at him. Without thinking, he cupped her hip, steadying her. She was wedged tight enough to him a blade of grass wouldn't have fit between their torsos. The soft press of her breasts pillowed against him felt good. Too good.

His hound edged closer, attention riveted to her cleavage. Just a little taste. Jericho mentally snapped his fingers and pointed to the corner. Flipping his tail up in a mock middle finger salute, the hound skulked into the shadows of Jericho's conscious and dropped onto his belly with an indignant huff.

Licking her full, pouty lips, Lola peeked up at him. "S-sorry. Sometimes my balance gets thrown."

"Not a problem." Giving her an awkward pat on the back, he reluctantly released her and cleared his throat. He shifted his attention to their surroundings. They stood in the middle of an enclosed courtyard. Well that was fortunate, at least. Always difficult to explain two people materializing from thin air in the center of a busy road or something.

Lola abandoned him to inspect the ornate marble fountain splashing amidst a lush grouping of ostrich ferns. "I think we're on The Dahlia Wolf's property."

"Yeah, we are. This courtyard abuts the carriage house." He coughed into his fist when Lola frowned. "I'm guessing. Haven't actually been here before."

"Uh huh." Her mouth twitching again, she hitched her shoulder. "I wasn't judging. More like surprised at how accurate our landing was. I rarely hit that close."

"You never had me as your copilot before."

She did that adorable nose scrunch thing again. "Maybe we should make our way inside before your head swells too much to fit through the door." Flicking one lustrous ebony strand of hair out of the collar of her catsuit, she pivoted and sashayed toward the far wrought iron gate.

If she continued shaking her booty like that his head downstairs would out-swell the one between his ears. Readjusting his fly, he strode after her. They exited the side courtyard and entered the main one housing the outdoor dining for The Dahlia Wolf Inn's guests. The few people seated or milling around were significantly overdressed compared to the denizens of the mansion's infamous predecessor. From what Jericho could tell, not a one of them were dead. Not that he'd figured they'd luck out that easy.

He and Lola started to climb the rear stairway just as the double French doors swung open and a zombie quarterback and cheerleader stepped out onto the landing. Jericho gave a low growl in his throat and Lola grabbed his arm. "Down Cujo," she whispered near his ear. "It's Halloween. Only costumes."

Holy shit, he was sleep deprived. The zombie couple continued down the stairs and Jericho held the door open for Lola. Her beaming smile hit him square in the solar plexus. Damn. So that's what it looked like when she wasn't snarling at him. A guy could get used to a beautiful woman gifting him with that kind of sunny radiance if he wasn't careful.

She preceded him inside and he took a moment to properly ogle her ass before surveying the large parlor they stood in. Every square inch of the space was overrun with more red velvet than one of those cheesy honeymoon suites in Vegas. Of course, he had no place playing decor police seeing how a Dogs Playing Poker painting hung with pride over the Lazy Boy in his den.

With no spooks anywhere in sight, he and Lola decided to move on. They ducked through the arched doorway and headed for the adjacent room. This parlor was twice the size of the one they'd left behind and clusters of guests were congregated around the bar and the tables set up with various appetizers. Jericho eyed the mini prime rib sliders, his stomach rumbling. Apparently hearing the sound, Lola slid him a look. "We're not guests, so no sneaking food."

"I rarely do that."

Rolling her gaze skyward, she turned—and expelled an oof as she slammed into the hulking figure behind them. She speedily shuffled backward, her eyes widening.

Every muscle in his body tensing for a fight, Jericho locked stares with Nolan Irish.
CHAPTER FOUR

"You have exactly five seconds to get your asses out of here before I toss you myself."

Gulping, Lola took a sliding step closer to Jericho. The second she did so a wash of shame heated her cheeks. Why was she being such a huge ninny?

Nolan bared his teeth, revealing his wicked sharp canines.

Oh yeah. That's why.

Jericho took a menacing step forward. "Crazy, I don't see the small army you intend using to accomplish that feat."

The predatory glint in Nolan's eyes sent shivers hopscotching over Lola's skin. When Jericho issued another of his warning growls she flushed for an entirely different reason. Yes, there were times when he terrified her too, but more and more that prickle of tension he brought out in her had nothing to do with the fear of getting her throat ripped out but something equally as hazardous to her wellbeing.

For several strained moments Jericho and Nolan mutely challenged each other in an alpha standoff. Any second now Lola expected them to whip out their cocks and mark their territory. How awkward would that be? On a scale of one to ten, definitely a twenty.

"Since it's obviously skipped your pea brain, I'll remind you that this house holds amnesty," Nolan finally bit out.

"Wrong. Your mistress is protected. Far as I'm concerned, every other spook in here is fair game."

"Over my dead body."

Jericho's wolfish smile slid into place. "That can be arranged."

Intuiting that this pissing contest would get them nowhere fast, Lola bravely inched her way between the two combatants. "We only want a word with your mistress."

"She has no reason to speak with the likes of you."

Lola rubbed her temples, patiently searching for the best means to ease Nolan from his watchdog stance. Just as she was about to give it a second try he turned his head to the side and winced.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Nolan exhaled heavily. "This is a mistake. I can send them away."

A barely discernable whisper floated on the air. No matter how hard Lola strained to make out the words they remained out of reach. Apparently Nolan had no problem hearing his mistress loud and clear though if the pained look on his face was any indication. Returning his focus to her and Jericho, Nolan pinned them with his stony glare. "Follow me."

Not waiting around for a less surly invitation, she glanced at Jericho before darting after their grumpy host. His pace hinting that he was possibly hoping to lose them, Nolan led them up the staircase to the third floor.

They tracked the floral patterned runner to the very end of the long hallway and stopped outside the only doorway that wasn't marked with a room number. Nolan started to dig in his pocket—presumably for his key—but the door snicked open before he could procure it.

Another grumble spilled from Nolan. Looking thoroughly peeved now, he nudged the door fully open with his elbow and presented a mocking bow. "After you."

Lola stepped inside the space. Curiosity getting the best of her, she took in the sizable suite. With the exception of the flat screen television affixed to the nearby wall, the remainder of the interior appeared completely untouched by time.

The grandeur of the antebellum era had always fascinated her. These old mansions and their gilt embossed frippery were one of the main reasons she'd requested Savannah as her home station. She was a girly girl all the way to the bone, so frilly lace and porcelain knickknacks were right up her alley. Nolan, on the other hand, looked like a bull in a china shop surrounded by all this frou frou.

Apparently reading her thoughts, the werewolf gave a half smile. That tiny concession instantly transformed him from dark and surly to dark and mildly surly and a whole lotta gorgeous. In fact, if she squinted a certain way, he and Jericho could practically pass as cousins. Fairly certain neither would appreciate that observation, she wisely kept it to herself. "I take it this is Dahlia's residence?"

"We share it. She doesn't like to be alone."

Lola's heart melted a little at the obvious bond between the werewolf and his mistress. She knew enough about witches and their familiars to realize that while Dahlia and Nolan's relationship might not be entirely unusual, it was certainly slightly above the norm. There were rare cases of some demons sticking with their witches after death, but she'd never heard of a shifter doing so, much less the strange immortality that'd apparently mutated Nolan's DNA in order to enable him to stay with Dahlia. No doubt a scientist would have a field day with that one. Then again, the same could be said for all of the oddballs that populated her world. "You're very kind to allow her to keep all of her things close."

"She doesn't give me much choice," Nolan replied dryly.

"Oh pooh. You have your television," a female voice piped up behind them.

Lola pivoted to face Dahlia Morganville. Although the madam had passed at the ripe young age of sixty, she didn't appear a day over thirty. Not unheard of for a ghost. Most chose to cling to the age they'd preferred the most in life. Add in Dahlia's witch status, and she possessed enough magical juice to give herself a fresh injection of spirit Botox every day if she wanted to. Regardless, one look at Dahlia's flawless peaches and cream complexion, cascade of blonde curls, and incredible rack about to pop out of her ruby red corset and Lola easily guessed why Nolan chose to stick around all these decades.

"I only installed the TV to keep you from ordering porn in the guest rooms." Nolan's tone was dryer than the Sahara.

Dahlia's expression turned angelic. "And I was only trying to move things along for them." Ignoring Nolan's grunt, the ghost gracefully glided to Lola's side and extended her hand. "How very rude of me. Welcome to my humble abode."

Lola accepted the hand shake. As she'd suspected, the spirit energy running through Dahlia was off the charts. An entire city block could be powered on it. Just one more potential concern for her and Jericho. If Devil forbid they didn't lockdown the portal before the teleport took effect the paranormal juice coursing inside this place would supercharge every single ghost transported through the doorway. In other words, an epic shitstorm that even the Ghostbusters would be hard pressed to contain. "I-it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." Dahlia transferred her attention to Jericho. "Oh my. Aren't you a strapping lad?"

Jericho scowled. "Don't get any ideas. I don't do the ghost mattress mambo."

Dahlia tapped her chin. "And why would you, when you have such a beautiful wife?"

Lola and Jericho simultaneously choked on a cough. She was the first to recover. "No, no, no. We're only partners. Actually, we're not even that. We kind of got forced together. For one night only," she stammered lamely.

Dahlia clapped her hands excitedly. "That is a marvelous tune!" Without warning, the ghost broke into a dramatic rendition of One Night Only from the musical, Dreamgirls.

Jericho grimaced. "She's singing disco. Why is she doing that?"

"It's Broadway," Lola pointed out.

"I don't give two shits what it is. Someone make it stop." Jericho glared at Nolan.

"You think I haven't tried?" the werewolf groused. "I rue the day she found that damn CD."

Dahlia stopped abruptly. "Now back to this issue of you two not being married. A woman in my profession, I'm certainly not against the idea of living in sin. But you need to think of your future babies. They need stability."

"So do you, lady." Jericho jabbed the air in front of Dahlia's face with his finger. "Lola and I are not a couple. There will be no babies, because we don't even like each other."

Although his words weren't unexpected, they still brought a sting. Truthfully, she had been starting to like Jericho. Way more than she should. It was a damn foolish thing on her part, particularly considering his current diatribe.

Obviously she'd been crazy to imagine he'd felt a similar pull to the one she'd experienced before they'd teleported. And if she was completely honest, that wasn't the only time she'd felt something entirely inappropriate where he was concerned. But for those all too brief moments when they'd let down their guard with each other...

Yeah, stupid to think he actually liked her.

Dahlia waved a hand dismissively. "Do you know how many couples I've encountered throughout the years who've claimed the same thing, only to fall madly in love with each other? The heart has a funny way of only being able to lie to itself for so long."

Jericho slashed a mulish look in Nolan's direction. "Was she this whackadoodledoo in life?"

Nolan snorted. "You have no idea."

A muscle twitching in Jericho's jaw, he stared Dahlia down. "We don't have time for your nonsense. You know damn well the reason Lola and I are here. We can either do this the nice and easy way, or I'll start collecting every last one of your girls until you smarten up and hand over that ghost."

Lola inwardly groaned. Nice to see he was going the subtle route.

Dahlia's petite ghostly frame bristled. "You will not touch my girls."

"Wanna try me?" Aggression radiating from him, Jericho crowded into Dahlia's personal space.

In a flash, Nolan slammed a fist into Jericho's shoulder, knocking him back several steps. Baring his teeth, Jericho advanced on the werewolf, murder glinting in his eyes.

Oh bloody hell. This was not the way to go about this. Lola made a grab for Jericho just as Dahlia waved her hand, a shimmering wall of energy snapping into place. Jericho slammed into the shield with an oof.

Brushing her palms together briskly, Dahlia transferred her focus to Nolan. "You are being quite the cranky pants. I think it best you go cool off."

"I'm not leaving you alone with them."

Dahlia stroked the werewolf's rigid jaw. "I'll be fine. Now please go check on our guests downstairs."

"Lia—" A rumble of irritation shot from Nolan as Dahlia made a walking motion with her fingers, compelling his feet to follow suit. Stiff legged, he marched backwards, his expression fierce. "Godsdamnit, I hate it when you do this. At least open the door this time."

Granting his churlish request, Dahlia twisted her wrist, throwing the door open and propelling her familiar out into the hallway. The door clicked shut and Dahlia dissolved the energy wall blocking Jericho before floating to the sofa and taking a seat. "Now where were we?"

Funnels of brimstone smoke wafted from Jericho. "Where is that damn raver ghost?"

Dahlia scrunched her nose. "I don't allow smoking in the house. Bad for the lungs and the silk draperies."

His expression fulminous, Jericho dispelled the cloud emanating from him. "I'll smoke out this whole fucking place if you don't cough up our perp in the next two seconds."

Dahlia cocked her head to the side. "I'm not familiar with this term perp."

"Perpetrator. AKA, the asshole who intends to open the portal to your little Spookapalooza tonight."

"Still afraid I don't know what you're referring to."

"Bullshit." Jericho bit the word through clenched teeth. "You expect me to believe you and your lackey have no insider intel on a party being thrown in your damn house?"

Dahlia shrugged. "I was informed of no such thing."

"Again I call BS."

Shooting Jericho a warning look, Lola crossed to the sofa and settled on the cushion next to Dahlia. "You can still help us find this spirit. No one knows this mansion better than you. You must be aware of the likely location of the portal. It'd be somewhere with the most concentrated power-box of energy."

A flicker of awareness lit in Dahlia's irises. "Yes, I do believe I know where that would be."

Relief flooded Lola. "Wonderful. The sooner you take us there, the sooner we'll be out of your hair."

"And each other's," Jericho pointed out.

His reminder both irritated her and pinged an ache in her chest. Really, she should be looking forward to giving this forced partnership the boot. Maybe even planning a celebration over its imminent demise. Certainly not moping like some teen girl saying goodbye to her summer crush.

Good gods. She did not look at Jericho that way. Yes, he was amazingly easy on the eyes and in possession of a body that'd give a nun impure thoughts. But he was also arrogant, insufferably rude, and a conniving, mercenary son of a bitch who'd probably reap his own mother's soul if the price was right.

Then why do you go out of your way to visit the Wards when you know he'll be there? Damn it, she did not need her inner ghost shrink to start poking around in her noggin. Bottom line, the healthiest thing to do was remember every single one of Jericho's mile-long faults and nip this ridiculous obsession with him in the bud.

Reinforcing her will with that excellent game plan, she tossed Jericho a saccharine smile. "Yes. An even better reason to wrap this up quick."

Dahlia's gaze pingponged between Lola and Jericho before turning shrewd. "I've changed my mind. I'm not taking you to the portal just yet."

The spirit's blithe announcement prodded a growl from Jericho and sent Lola's gut in a freefall. Swallowing past the panic balled in her throat, she stared at Dahlia. "I-I don't understand. A second ago—"

"Yes, yes." Dahlia flicked her wrist dismissively. "But it's all too clear to me that you two need more time to work out this lover's spat."

Smoke billowed from Jericho's nostrils. "We are not fucking lovers."

Wrinkling her nose again delicately, Dahlia crossed one knee over the other and waved a hand in front of her face. "What did I tell you about that? For Pete's sake, you're going to set off the detectors. Then I'll really be miffed." She sighed in approval when Jericho reined in his fuming. "Better. Now as far as this not being lovers business. That's clearly the root of your problem. A blind person could see the way you two are panting for each other. But you stubborn blockheads insist on fighting it for some purpose completely beyond me." She pinned Lola with a curious glance. "Why?"

Caught off guard at being the one in the hot seat, Lola struggled to find her tongue. She rapidly scrolled through the million and one reasons she'd previously listed for keeping her distance from Jericho and landed on the most pertinent. "We're competitors."

"Ah." Dahlia stroked her chin thoughtfully. "That's not always a bad thing to have in a relationship. Just means you'll push each other to be your best, no?"

"Well...possibly." Lola frowned. "If I didn't have to worry about him constantly stealing cases out from under me."

Jericho huffed out a breath. "Woman, how many times do I haffta tell ya how this biz works?"

Dahlia snapped her fingers. "I got it. Simply continue this partnership, and you'll both be getting what you want."

Jericho offered the ghost a peevish look. "You really need to cut back on the whackadoodledoo Kool-Aid."

Dahlia swirled her fingers in the air. "Everyone knows two heads work better than one. You should take advantage of it."

"I don't work that way." Jericho stacked his arms over his chest. "I'm a lone wolf. Dog. You get what I fucking mean."

Dahlia stretched her arm along the back of the sofa. "Oh, I'm well aware of your type. Too afraid to let a woman get close, because then you might have to admit you need her. So much easier to avoid that by hiding behind your tough guy, I-don't-rely-on-nobody facade."

Jericho's eyes narrowed dangerously. "It's no facade."

"Really? Then why are you so dead set on convincing me of it?"

"I don't have time for this shit," Jericho grumbled.

Dahlia slid a look toward Lola. "Interesting how he changed the subject."

A fiery ring of red forming around his pupils, Jericho lunged at Dahlia. The spirit blinked out of sight, leaving him with a fistful of air for his efforts. An ear-burning stream of swear words pouring from him, he straightened. Raking a hand through his short-cropped ink black hair, he glanced sheepishly at Lola. "We don't need her anyway."

"Really? Because I was under the impression we did."

"Hell, how hard can it be to find one lousy portal in this place?"

"On a scale of one to ten? Roughly one million." If they were lucky.

"Then what are we doing standing around here scratching our asses?"

Jericho sauntered to the door and Lola trailed after him. She waited to the side as he twisted the knob. It didn't budge. He tried the door again, but still nada. A scowl slipping in place, he released the knob and rammed his shoulder into the wooden frame. It didn't so much as shudder. Jericho eyed the brass handle like he intended to sear it off with his wrath alone. "That crazy bitch locked us in."

A trickle of laughter floated on the air. "I'm helping things along."

"Get your ass back in here," Jericho bellowed at the general vicinity of the ceiling.

Wincing at his thunderous boom, Lola rubbed her temples. From the corner of her eye, she caught a strange glimmer of movement. Dropping her hands, she turned, fully expecting to see Dahlia once again lounging on the sofa. The spectacle awaiting her instead made her jaw drop.

"What. The. Hell."
CHAPTER FIVE

Jericho gave the ceiling one last baleful glare before shifting his focus to Lola. She was staring straight ahead, her succulent, glossy lips parted in awe. Frowning, he followed her gaze. And blinked.

The sofa and subdued antique furnishings of Dahlia's apartment had vanished. In fact, he wasn't even certain they were in her suite anymore. Across from them stood an enormous canopy bed. In addition to the sinful depictions of erotic sex acts carved into the bed posts there were velvet ropes that he suspected had nothing to do with tying back the curtains. The nearby night table held an intriguing assortment of bottled oils, dildos, and a feather tickler.

He panned his attention back to Lola and noticed she was also gaping at the accoutrements. Her cheeks adopting a pretty rosy-pink hue, she peeked at him before quickly looking away.

He stalked to the bed and poked at the lace spread covering it. "Where in the damned hell are we?"

"My guess—one of the bordello rooms."

Yeah, he suspected as much too. Still didn't explain how they got there. Okay, maybe he didn't know precisely how, but he sure as shit knew who was responsible for the change of scenery. "I'm going to wring that fucking ghost's neck."

He waited for Lola to add her agreement to that plan. When she remained mute he turned his head to see why she was giving him the silent treatment. He nearly swallowed his tongue at the vision greeting him.

She stood stock still in front of him, gaping down at the eye-popping carnal red corset and garter set adorning her mouthwatering body.

A strangled sound attempted to force its way from his throat but croaked out as a "Gah" instead.

Lola's head jerked up and she stared at him. "I have no idea how she did this."

That made two of them. Though truthfully, he was feeling infinitely more charitable toward Dahlia than he had a moment ago. "That color looks good on you."

She double blinked. "What?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "I'm just sayin', she picked the right outfit for you."

Lola's mouth twitched. "I guess she would know. Being an expert and all. I wonder why she didn't do anything with your clothes though?"

"I'm a guy."

"So? A nice pair of leather assless chaps would fit right in here." She waved to their decadent surroundings.

He grimaced. "Don't say that out loud."

She chuckled. "Worried Dahlia might overhear?"

"Hell yes."

Lola pivoted and sashayed toward the door. His eyes nearly fell out of their sockets as he took in the seductive jiggle of her heart-shaped ass. Day-um, mama had back and then some. His hound salivating, Jericho imagined massaging those gorgeous globes while he rode her from behind. Cock thickening in his briefs, he wiped the drool from his chin.

Lola tried the door again before sighing in defeat. "I don't think we have any option but to teleport."

He arched his brows. "You're going to go ghost hunting in that getup?"

"Trust me, not my first choice," she replied wryly.

He certainly wasn't against the idea of getting to see her prance around in her wicked skimpies, but he didn't want to subject her to any embarrassment or a chill. Plus there was the small fact that he'd be a walking boner advertisement every time he looked at her. He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her. She accepted the garment with obvious surprise and a dazzling smile.

He had a moment to mourn the lost view of her knockout tits before she tugged the jacket in place and grabbed his hand, twining her fingers with his. Recalling the unsteadying turbulence she'd experienced on their last flight, he wrapped an arm around her waist. His hand ghosted to the small of her back, tucking her closer to him. His fingers rested in the dip of her tailbone, barely brushing the top of her bikini bottoms. Sticky sweat rolled down his back.

They stared at each other, their ragged breaths mingling. Several seconds ticked by. She licked her lips and he tracked the motion with rapt interest.

She swallowed hard. "Nothing's happening."

Not entirely true. Something was definitely happening behind the fly of his jeans, and his hound was whining to be let out to play as a result.

"I-I think she somehow disabled our teleport links."

He nodded. "Told ya ghosts are nothing but pains in the asses."

"We need to find another way out of here."

He nodded again. "Fuck yeah we do."

"That portal isn't going to close itself."

"Nope." He shivered a little bit when Lola curled her arm around his neck and sifted her fingers through his hair.

She bit her lip. "We should—"

"Fuck." He spit out the word, both as a curse and a desperate suggestion, right before he crushed her mouth under his.

He nipped and licked at her lips, prodding a mewling groan from her. She tasted like pure sin and every one of his fantasies brought to life. Sliding a hand to the back of her head, he re-angled his approach, delving his tongue past her lips. He delivered the kiss like a firestorm, unmindful that they both stood to be incinerated in its wake. She greedily sucked at his tongue, triggering a shudder and moan from him.

He released her hand and divested her of his jacket before he molded his fingers over her right breast, squeezing with just enough pressure to make her gasp and sag in his arms weakly. Abandoning her mouth, he coasted to her neck. She arched onto her tiptoes when he bit the sensitive tendon just beneath her ear. A purr slipped loose before she could corral it.

"Godsdamn, that's sexy," he rumbled in appreciation, his lips blazing a path to her chest. He settled his face in her cleavage and shook his head, making her gasp at the tormenting tickle of his beard stubble along her skin.

He loosened her corset enough to free her breasts. Every thought of their mission skipped to the dimmest recesses of his mind as palmed those perfect mounds. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples and they immediately pebbled. A hum of approval vibrated from his chest before he ducked his head and sucked one of the stiffened nubs between his teeth. He was by no means gentle in his technique but judging from the frequency of her purrs she wasn't complaining.

Panting and writhing against him, she plowed her fingers through his hair. He lifted his gaze to her, the shivery, desperate need riding her face slamming right through him. Before she had a chance to catch her breath, he scooped her into the cradle of his arms and carried her to the bed. Wedging his shoulders between her spread legs, he trailed his hands along her thighs. "How much you wanna bet that damn ghost is watching us right now?"

"She does seem especially determined we get the deed done," Lola gasped.

"Then how about we really give that pervert something to diddle herself over?"

"Kinky."

"Damn straight, baby." Stretching to the side, he fetched the ends of the ropes and tied them taut around Lola's wrists. Excitement burning in her eyes, she lifted her head to watch him as he returned to his prior station. He unclipped the garters and peeled her bikini down her legs, leaving the stockings in place. Rubbing his unshaven jaw over the silkiness of her inner thighs, he kissed and nibbled his way to the feast waiting for him between her legs.

He spread apart her pussy lips and visually devoured his treasure before following suit with his mouth. Basking in her breathless moans, he licked her deep, tasting her honeyed sweetness from the inside out. When she began restlessly squirming he focused his efforts on the juicy morsel of her clit, rolling it firmly with his tongue.

"Oh gods."

"Mm, you like that, sugar?"

"Hell yes. I'll kill you if you stop."

Chuckling, he dutifully obeyed her wishes, flicking her clit lazily over and over until her hips rocked and strained upward with each teasing pass of his tongue. The tension building in her trembling limbs hinted that it wouldn't be long before he pushed her over the edge. Pulling his mouth from her pussy, he shoved up onto his knees.

She stared at him, her rapid-fire breaths causing her tits to quiver enticingly. "Did you not hear what I said about killing you?"

"Nope. Got the message loud and clear." He abandoned the bed for a moment to ditch his clothes and grab the feather tickler and one of the condoms Dahlia had generously left them on the table. After sliding the sheath on, he settled back in place and held up the wand, giving it a good waggle. "Looks like I found the perfect toy for making my little pussy purr."

Lola's lips twitched. "You're more perverted than Dahlia."

"You love it, baby. Admit it."

"I'd love it even more if you got around to actually giving me that orgasm."

"Every time you sass me I'll find a particularly torturous spot to use this on." He snapped the tickler at her nipple, making her shiver and bite her lip. "That's more like it."

Lifting her thighs, he situated himself in place and wrapped her legs around his waist. Aligning his cock at her slick entrance, he pumped his hips slightly, lodging himself knob-deep inside her. Even without full penetration she clung to him like a glove. Unable to tear his gaze from the sight of their joining, he thrust again, giving her another two inches of his cock. She rippled around him, bringing a trickle of sweat down his sternum. "Godsdamn. Sweetheart, your wet little pussy is the closest I'm ever getting to heaven."

A gasping laugh fell from Lola. "Okay, smooth talker, I'm still waiting for that orgasm."

"What did I tell ya about the sass?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you said ass."

Returning her grin with his own devilish version, he flicked the tickler directly on her clit. She bucked against him, her pussy clenching. He taunted the bundle of nerves unmercifully, until she was straining against her rope bindings and begging him with her eyes. Still he didn't let up.

"Jericho."

"What, baby?"

"I-I can't take any more."

"See, I think you can. In fact, you're gonna take everything I give you, aren't ya, sweetheart? Because you are completely at my mercy."

An excited breath snagged in Lola's throat and her pussy vised him tighter. Her response was telling, and it turned him on to no end knowing that it was his control making her melt beneath him.

He slid a hand under her ass. Hiking her tight to him, he surged to the hilt in her soaked channel. Tossing the tickler aside, he primed her directly with his thumb, a pulse beating through her slippery clit with each of his determined strokes. She arched her spine, her fingers locked in a death grip around the velvet ropes restraining her movements. Harsh breaths panted from her.

"Mm, you're getting tight on me. Ready to come, sweetheart?"

"Yes. Please, gods."

"Do it, sugar. Come hard all over my cock. Right. Fucking. Now."

She tensed, drawing into a tight bow. He bore down, tunneling hard and deep, springing a choked cry from her as she broke apart around him.

Watching her lost in the throes of her release was a thing of sheer beauty. Sweat sheened her quivering skin and ecstasy rode every centimeter of her face. The fluttery contractions sucking him deeper into her pussy were too insistent to ignore.

Giving one last firm thrust, he threw his head back and gritted his teeth, a smothered howl threatening to sneak loose as the shockwave of his orgasm slammed into him. He shuddered and gasped, every bone in his body liquefying under the fiery bliss.

Unable to support his shaking limbs a second longer, he slumped on top of Lola, bracing his weight enough so not to crush her.

He didn't know how long they lay there, their harsh, ragged breaths perfectly syncopated. With a jolt, he recalled the bound status of her arms. Growling at his slip of the mind, he stretched over her and freed her from the ropes before gently rubbing the circulation back into her hands. The delicate bones of her wrists a fascination to him, he caressed the beating pulse there before tracing the fine lines of her palm with his fingertips. In a strange way, the exploration almost felt more intimate than their wild, lusty joining.

Her expression dreamy and sated, Lola propped herself up on one elbow. "That was unlike anything I could have imagined."

For him too. And quite frankly, it was starting to freak him out a little.

He'd always been a highly sexual creature, but Lola brought something out of him that knocked him off his pace. The fact he was basking in this post coital glow and even contemplating snuggling with her was unsettling as hell.

Wiping his jaw, he caught the intoxicating lingering remnant of her feminine musk. His cock twitched with renewed life. Killing a groan, he mentally sent his dick a memo to pipe down and he scooted to the edge of the bed.

The mattress shook as Lola moved behind him. "What time do you think it is?"

Time to get the fuck out of there, that's what. Before he gave in to the insistent urge to fuck her another thousand rounds or two. "I'm guessing we're nearing dangerously close to the Witching Hour."

He glanced over his shoulder to see Lola wiggling back into her panties. Determined to get his own damn mind off of sex, he left the bed and wrenched on his briefs, jeans, and boots. After tugging his shirt in place he helped Lola into his jacket and squeezed her ass. Hell, like he could completely resist that fine booty.

Tossing him a grin, she tried the door knob. They both grunted in surprise when it swung open this time. So apparently the aggravating madam of the house had finally deigned to release them. No doubt she had been snooping on them, fucking pervert.

Stifling his growl, he escorted Lola through the doorway. Rather than the hallway he'd expected, they stepped out into a large parlor jam-packed with noisy spirits. For one heart stopping moment, Jericho thought they were too late, and the party commencing around them was the Spookapalooza. But after another quick scan of the room and the attire of the guests, he killed that presumption fast.

They were still in the damn bordello. And from the appearance of things, the festivities were just starting to fall into full swing. Not one of the spirits paid him and Lola any mind as the two of them moved further into the congested space. More than likely that was due to the fact that half of the horny motherfuckers in here were otherwise occupied with their ghost humpty-hump.

Grimacing, Jericho immediately veered his focus away from the naked portly spook getting a hot oil massage from a trio of busty blondes. Holy hell, there were some things you just couldn't unsee.

Grabbing Lola's arm, he steered her in the opposite direction. They managed exactly four steps before the tinny strains of a player piano broke into the opening bars of the Broadway tune Dahlia had serenaded them with in her suite. An instant later the damnable ghost's glass-shattering soprano filled the air. He and Lola shot each other a look and simultaneously stalked in that direction.

A small congregation of Dahlia's girls and their clients were circled around the piano, clapping and dancing along with the madam's performance. Jericho started to elbow through the enthusiastic throng, but Lola stalled him by grabbing his arm. She shrugged at his questioning look. "Let her have her moment."

Fucking A. He definitely didn't get paid enough for this shit.

Grumbling, he waited for the song to end and a rousing cheer to go up from the audience. Taking that as his cue, he plowed through the crowd and grabbed Dahlia by the wrist, yanking her from her perch on the piano. Shocked gasps trickled from the other spirits clustered behind them. Before Jericho could properly throttle Dahlia, a ferocious gust of air whipped against him. A split second later, a fist slammed into his jaw, snapping his head sideways.

Shaking the stars free, he scowled at Nolan's furious countenance and cracked his knuckles.

A chant went up amongst the spooks. "Dog fight! Dog fight!"

Dahlia swiftly raised her arm, effectively silencing everyone and freezing Jericho in place. Judging from Nolan's awkward lunging pose, he'd been treated to a similar holding spell. Dahlia sniffed. "The first person who breaks anything in this house gets my foot up their fanny." Apparently satisfied she'd made her stance on the matter crystal clear, she snapped her fingers, releasing Jericho and Nolan.

He and the wolf glared at each other but made no move toward ripping each other's jugulars out. Yet.

Dahlia fluffed her skirt and gifted Jericho and Lola with a beatific smile. "I'm pleased you took my advice about working your differences out in bed."

"Like you gave us any choice," Jericho bit out.

"You didn't look like you were complaining."

Damn voyeuristic perverted ghost. Although she was damn well right, he certainly wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of admitting it to her face. "Now that you've had your fun, you will take us to that godsdamn portal."

"I can see that even a good horizontal mambo doesn't do much to improve your disposition." Turning up her nose, Dahlia motioned imperiously with one hand. "Follow me."
CHAPTER SIX

Lola hustled to keep up with Jericho and the spirit entourage ahead of them. For the first time in—well, forever—she wasn't paranoid about him stealing a possible claim out from under her nose. Maybe she should be. A nice horizontal mambo, as Dahlia so colorfully phrased it, wouldn't likely change his attitude about the cutthroat nature of their business.

For all she knew, he intended to nab the raver ghost and split on her immediately so he could collect his bounty and bragging rights of singlehandedly putting the kibosh on the Spookapalooza.

Would he do something so underhanded?

She mentally smacked herself upside the head. That would be a hell to the yes. Despite knowing that, she couldn't give two hoots about losing her claim on the ghost. Well, maybe she gave one hoot. Regardless, the biggest threat to her right now was the very real fact that Jericho was in the perfect position to abscond with something far more precious to her.

Her heart.

What they'd shared in the bordello bedroom went miles beyond mere sex for her. She didn't give up control. Not to anyone. And in one fell swoop, Jericho had seared through her defenses and left her desperately craving more of him. For a lifetime.

Coming from a long line of McKennas who mated for life, she'd known the time would come when she'd fall hopelessly in love with the man who'd be her forever. She'd just never counted on that being Jericho. Not in a million years.

The heart has a funny way of only being able to lie to itself for so long. Lola snuffed a sigh as Dahlia's assessment ghosted through her mind.

It was all too true. She'd been fighting her attraction and yearning for Jericho, hoping it'd blind her to the unwanted reality that he was the one.

Sometimes you really couldn't chose who you fell for, and you sure as hell couldn't twist the lock shut on your heart once it was sprung open. At least not in her case.

So where did that leave her? Leave them? Jericho certainly desired her. But did his feelings extend beyond her body?

They came to the end of the hallway and approached a wooden door. The thoughts plaguing Lola's mind dissipated as Dahlia reached for the knob. The spirit shot a look over her shoulder. "It's not the grandest part of the house, but the basement contains all of the backup generators."

In other words, the perfect makings for an enormous spirit circuit box. And the ideal environment for a portal big enough to transport the entire Death Ward ghost population.

A shiver of foreboding skipping down her spine, Lola edged closer to Jericho. He reached behind his back and twined his fingers through hers. The gesture was so unexpected she nearly tripped on the first stair going down.

Okay, maybe she didn't have to worry about him immediately bailing on her. At least not when it came to them catching their ghost. Jury was still out on how he'd react to learning he was her chosen mate.

The dim bulb overhead shed just enough light to ensure her not breaking her neck during the remainder of the trip down to the basement. Once they were all safely at the bottom, Lola scanned the cavernous room. Renewed anxiety washed over her. "There's no one down here but us."

"Like hell. That asshole is hiding somewhere." Jericho glanced at Nolan. "What time is it?"

The werewolf tugged back the sleeve of his dinner jacket. "Two minutes to Midnight."

Jericho slashed his gaze around their surroundings. "Means the asstard has to be within sniffing distance."

Tendrils of icy dread slid down Lola's spine. "Unless we're in the wrong place."

Jericho went deathly still before lifting his chin slightly and chuffing at the air. A crocodile smile slowly curved his lips. "Got him."

Lola blinked. "How in the world can you pick the perp out amongst all these spirits?"

"Cause I'm that good, babe. Also he smells like a fucking Grateful Dead concert, and I'm already getting a contact buzz."

Lola cautiously dragged in a sniff, and grimaced. "You're right."

Jericho held out his hand. "Ready to take care of this yokel?"

A ridiculous burst of happiness spreading through her chest, she nodded and slapped her palm inside his. Squeezing each other's fingers, they sprinted as one toward the distant bank of generators. Giving a howl of victory, Jericho leapt over the machinery with her sailing right along beside him. They broke their hold on each other's hands so they could both snatch the ghost crouched on the floor.

The grungy-dressed kid held up his hands. "Hey, man. I wasn't doin' nuthin'." His wide-eyed, scared gaze suddenly drifted over Jericho's shoulder and he cackled. "Looks like you dudes got here just in time for the partay!"

Lola whipped her focus upward. An immense shimmering ring had formed above their heads, encapsulating the entire dimensions of the basement. "Uh, Houston, we might have a problem on our hands."

Jericho clamped his fingers around the scruff of the teen's neck. "Nah. Just look at it as our taxi ride home."

She gaped at him. "Are you nuts?"

"Nope." His teeth flashed with his grin. "But I got some. And I sure as shit ain't afraid to use em now and then."

"Well plan on losing them if we try hitching a ride on that thing."

"Come on, babe. Where's your sense of adventure?"

She shuddered. Of all the men she chose as her soul mate, it would have to be the one with a death wish. Still, their asses were as good as grass if they didn't shut down that portal. With seconds to spare, the most logical way of doing that was reversing its coordinates from the inside.

The only question remaining was which would rip them apart first—the wild zip-line ahead of them? Or the two hundred thousand or so ghosts on the other side of those portal doors.
CHAPTER SEVEN

Jericho easily detected the fear and uncertainty riding Lola's pretty features. Despite his bravado, he was well aware of the insanity they were about to commit. Bottom line, they had no choice. The clock was ticking. Still holding the punk kid in one hand, he leaned forward and kissed Lola. It might be the last time he'd get the pleasure, and he longed with every ounce of his being to linger and do it up right but time was definitely not on their side.

Ignoring the kid's leering, Jericho hugged Lola close. "Ready?"

She sucked in a deep breath and expelled it in a rush. "Yes."

He initiated the teleport before she finished spitting out the word. Better to not give her too long to think about it. The short trip into the portal went smoother than he'd expected. Unfortunately that only stupidly made him lower his guard for a moment, and he wasn't prepared for the sucker punch that hit him out of the blue the moment he locked into place.

Godsdamnit. Just once he'd like to have some warning before these ghost dicks did that. Growling, he spun and chomped onto the big bruiser's arm before he could take another swing. His hound seeing red, Jericho shook his head furiously, slamming the motherfucker into the outer membrane of the portal. The ghost shrieked as the supercharged force field burned him to a crisp.

One down...

Jericho shifted his focus toward the mouth of the portal tunnel. A solid wall of ghosts were rushing in their direction.

One hundred and ninety nine thousand to go. Give or take.

Not the worst odds ever. Grunting, he gingerly tested his jaw. "Sweetheart, how fast do you think you can jimmy that door permanently shut?"

"T-twenty seconds. Tops."

He stretched his neck to the side and rolled his shoulder, loosening up his muscles. "How about you give me an early birthday present, and make it five seconds."

Leaving her to work her magic, he advanced on the four spooks who'd managed to get a running head start on the rest of the crowd. He instantly recognized them as souls he'd reaped a few weeks earlier.

Fucking great. Douchebags who no doubt held a major grudge against him. This wasn't going to be pretty.

The nearest ghost hooted a mocking laugh. "Well if this just ain't a nice little bit of irony."

His three goon buddies nodded. The ugliest of the bunch spat on the floor. "I'm gonna personally enjoy ripping your tonsils out through yer nose."

Jericho crouched low, assuming a wrestler's stance. "Hate to break it to you, but I had them removed a long time ago."

The ghost looked crestfallen and mildly confused. "Well shit. What am I 'sposed to rip out now?"

Spook number four patted his pal on the back. "Don't worry, Meryl. You'll think of somethin'."

Clearly these geniuses hadn't passed their ghost jail time cracking open any highbrow literature. Jericho waggled his fingers in invitation. "You rocks-for-brains want a piece of me? Come get it."

Mr. Would-be-tonsil-ripper was the first out of the gate. He bum-rushed Jericho, attempting to take him to the ground. With a slight twist of his torso, Jericho sideswiped the ghost and sent him down for the count with a hard elbow jab between the eyes. Spook number four bellowed and ran at Jericho next, only to kiss the ground in a similar move to his friend's. Number two required a double flip and a flying Frisbee toss into the portal membrane to be taken out.

Straightening, Jericho eyed his remaining opponent for this round. The dude was bigger than a damn refrigerator. Sumo wrestlers probably peed their loincloths at the sight of him. And here Jericho had to face the sonofabitch with only his fists. It was tempting to shift into his hound, but seeing how he'd never attempted that maneuver in a speeding portal before best not to take his chances.

The ghost stalked forward, and Jericho swore the floor shook under his weight. Or possibly it was due to the spirit lynch mob gaining on them. Not daring to take his eyes off of Big Bubba, Jericho yelled at Lola. "You about done with that door, babe?"

"Almost."

"Your five seconds is way past up. Now you're gonna have to give me a blowjob for my birthday instead."

"Deal."

Well damn. Now he really had a reason to get outta here alive. The promised prize of Lola's mouth wrapped around his cock giving him renewed strength and determination, Jericho roared and lunged at the ghost. He bounced off the spirit's enormous belly. Scrabbling to regain his footing, he ducked low and head-butted him right in the dick. Normally he'd avoid getting his face that close to any ghost nads, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Howling in agony, the spook thunked to his knees. Jericho took the opportunity to give Bubba a nice send off with a boot heel in the forehead. The ghost flopped backwards with a thud.

Lola raced up next to Jericho, their raver spook trailing after her like a puppy. Kid was probably too stoned to have any idea what was going on. He verified Jericho's suspicions by offering a high five. "Dude, that was epic. Are you related to Chuck Norris?"

"Yeah, he's my cousin."

"Cool."

Resisting an eye roll, Jericho turned his attention back to Lola. "The door?"

"Sealed tight."

"Way to rock it, baby." Hauling her close, he kissed her hard on the lips. She melted into him, and he reluctantly came up for air. "After we wrap this up, I'm licking every inch of you."

"Mm, sounds like an excellent plan."

He wrapped his arm tight around her and used his free hand to anchor the kid next to them. Lola frowned at him. "What are you doing?"

"The only way we're gonna get past that barricade of spooks is if we initiate teleport."

Lola paled beneath her mocha complexion. "Won't that collapse the portal?"

"Yeah, which is why we need to do this fast. We've gotta outrun it."

Lola trembled, the fear and doubt in her eyes cutting straight through him. He bumped her nose with his. "We can do this. Trust me. Just hold on tight, and whatever you do don't touch the outer membrane."

"Oh gods. You would have to remind me of that."

"It'll be okay." He hoped. Not giving either one of them another second to mull on their possible Kentucky Fried Death, he locked his fist at the small of her back. "On the count of three."

He joined her in the countdown and mentally pushed the button on two. Her surprised shriek and cacophony of curses ringing in his ears, they blasted forward with a jolt. Over Lola's shoulder he could make out the doorwall of the portal crumpling inward. It was a helluva lot closer to them than he would have preferred.

Something hard rammed into his back, joggling his grunt loose. Two more fierce wallops, followed by dozens more. A ghostly arm flew up, along with a leg. He ducked his head to avoid a foot in the nose. He realized then what was happening. They were running over the ghosts like damn spook speed bumps.

If they didn't get ahead of these fuckers they were all going to be toast. Literally. "Sweetheart, we're gonna have to fly this bird higher."

Lola lifted her face from where she'd buried it against his chest. "I thought you said we need to avoid the membrane."

"We do. So make sure you don't touch it."

She shuddered. "Trust me, I have no plans to."

He propelled them upward and spun so that his back was most at danger of making contact with the force field. The ferocious heat radiating from the glowing red and gold streams of energy sizzled and crackled. Sweat drenched every inch of him, seeping through his clothes. His fingers grew slippery, endangering his hold on Lola and the raver. He didn't give a rat's ass about the spook. He'd drop him in a heartbeat. Lola was worth a million times the bounty that kid brought.

He stared into her wide, terror-filled eyes and a surge of protection he'd never experienced before in his life filled him to overflow. He'd get her through this safe and sound. Because godsdamnit, he needed her.

He could almost hear the ghostly echo of Dahlia's laughter in his ear. Told you so.

Yeah, that ghost was a major pain in the keister, but she was pretty damn smart about a few things.

A cry shot form Lola as one of the spirits below them grabbed her ankle. "Jericho." She started to wrench out of his hold and she screamed.

He dropped the kid and hugged Lola fiercely to him, wrapping their legs together. The new aerodynamics of their fit acted like a turbo charger, rocketing them through the throng of spirits. That was the good part. The not so beneficial side effect was the resulting octane their flight fueled in the portal. The gap between them and the collapsing opposite end of the tunnel quickly eroded.

If they didn't reach the portal exit within the next few seconds there'd be nothing left of them.

"Jericho..." A tear leaked from the corner of Lola's eye, slipping off the side of her face.

"Shh. We're not done for yet."

"I'm sorry you lost the claim."

He grunted. "Guess that means you'll pay me back with two blowjobs."

Her laugh was the sweetest sound in the universe. If he burned alive right now he'd die a happy hound knowing the best night of his entire life was wrapped up in this beautiful woman. He lowered his face, seeking her lips. She returned the kiss with a shuddery sigh of contentment.

An instant later they punched through the portal and crash-landed on top of the receiving desk in the Death Wards central booking station. Befuddled and his bones aching like a sonofabitch, Jericho lifted his gaze to the agent's startled one. Tapping the top of his head to ensure it was still there, he offered a nod. "Hey. How's it goin'?"

The booking agent shrugged. "Finally slowed down around here."

"Yeah? Probably gonna pick up in a second." Swiftly sweeping Lola off of the desk before the first group of spooks dropped through the portal, Jericho strode for the exit. "Now about those blowjobs..."
CHAPTER EIGHT

Despite Jericho's incessant grumbling, Lola convinced him to stick around for the first hundred or so ghost check-ins. Once it appeared the agents on staff had the situation under relative control, he grabbed her hand and herded her outside. He attempted to cop a feel under the concealment of his jacket and she swatted his hand with a giggle. "You have a one track mind."

"Mm hm. As if you aren't dying to get your hot little lips wrapped around my salami stick."

"Oh, I definitely am. Apparently a near brush with death makes me unbearably horny."

"Yeah? Good to know. I'll make sure you brush up against Death at least once every fifteen minutes from now on." His expression sobered. "You really were brave back there. I just want you to know that."

She blew out a breath. "And when would that be? When I was screaming my lungs out or crying like a baby?"

"Hey, anyone would have reacted the same way. That was some scarier than hell shit."

"You didn't react that way. In fact, you saved my life." She stroked his cheek. "You know that officially makes you my hero, now, right?" It made him a lot more than that. The mate bond she'd already felt was a living, breathing entity inside her, filling her heart to maximum capacity.

She just didn't know how to go about releasing the words imprisoned by her tongue and the very real fear that Jericho would reject her.

"Never been anyone's hero before."

"Well you are now. They'll write sonnets about you, telling of the day you delivered two hundred thousand souls straight to the collection desk. I'm pretty sure that's a record, by the way."

"Holy hell, you're right. Damn, guess that does make me pretty fucking badass." He puffed out his chest and then grinned in that way that was quickly becoming her personal Kryptonite. "But we both know I couldn't have done it without you. We brought them in."

Her heart swelled even more. "Then I guess we both get a sonnet."

"No." He waggled his brows. "Dirty limerick."

"Ooh, even better."

"Stryker and McKenna," Hamilton barked behind them, making them both jump.

Pulse beating erratically, Lola pivoted along with Jericho. The commander eyed them, his bushy black brows arching slightly as he surveyed Lola. "Interesting uniform, McKenna."

Blushing, Lola tugged on the collar of Jericho's jacket, doing her best to cover up the corset. Apparently unconcerned with her embarrassment, Hamilton inclined his head. "You came through tonight. We've decided against disciplinary action, but you are both on two week probation, effective immediately. Watch your asses." With that word of warning, he turned and stalked away.

Jericho leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Did you hear that? I have to watch your ass."

"I don't think that's what he meant."

"Oh no. It definitely is. Better get started on it immediately."

Before she could reply, he whisked her into his arms and kissed the living daylights out of her. When she came up for air a second later they were standing in an unfamiliar room. She glanced around, taking in the huge king-sized bed. "Your bedroom I presume?"

"Yep."

"Damn you're good."

"You're supposed to say that after I make you come." He made swift work of removing his jacket from her and untying the corset.

Each brush of his fingertips along her sensitive skin stoked the feverish need cresting within her. He tossed the garment aside and dropped onto his haunches in order to dispose of her bikini. Leaving the garter and stockings in place, he nudged her back against the mattress with a carnal growl.

The beastly way he plundered her pussy with his tongue sprung a moan from her and she wrapped her legs around his head. He ate her with a finesse and ferocity that stole her breath and left her a gasping, quivering wreck. His tongue delved deep inside her, mimicking what he no doubt planned to do to her with his hard, thick, delicious cock.

Suddenly recalling the promise she'd made, she carefully extracted herself from his clutches and coaxed him to stand. She unbuckled his belt and left it open while she unzipped his jeans. Looking him in the eye, she reached inside his briefs and stroked her fingertips along his hot, rigid length. His lips parted and a shaky exhale escaped.

Oh what a heady thing it was, making him quiver for her. Standing on her tiptoes, she licked the bottom seam of his lips. "I'm going to love sucking you all the way down my throat."

His groan rumbled into her mouth. Nipping his bottom lip between her teeth, she pumped him in her fist for a moment, getting him nice and slippery with the pre-come weeping from the slit in his cockhead. Figuring she had him in the palm of her hand—literally—she dropped onto her knees and eased the waistband of his jeans and briefs down.

Saliva pooled in her mouth at the close up view of his beautiful shaft. It was long and oh so gloriously fat in all the right places. Especially the head. Sliding her mouth over the glistening gland, she moaned in appreciation of his addictive masculine flavor. His fingers tunneled through her hair, creating a slight sting that only added to the soaked state of her pussy.

Bobbing her head, she sucked him deeper, relishing the drag of his cockhead along the roof of her mouth. He butted against the back of her throat and she swallowed, taking as much of him as possible before her gag reflex set in. She retreated, allowing him to slip almost entirely from her mouth. Encircling the base of his shaft with her fingers, she stroked him, using the lubrication of her own saliva to aid her efforts while she flicked the tip of her tongue along the groove bisecting the underside of his cockhead.

"Holy hell." His breathing erratic, Jericho freed her grip from his cock and hauled her up. With zero ceremony, he tossed her onto the bed. She bounced on the mattress, the intense heat in his eyes making her more light-headed than getting tossed around.

He strode to the nearby nightstand and tugged the top drawer open. The unmistakable crinkle of a foiled wrapper instigated shivers of anticipation.

A gush of moisture flooding her pussy, she wiggled backward. He caught her by the ankles before she could make it to the pillows and effortlessly rolled her onto her belly. Panting, she began to scoot onto her knees but he straddled her legs, making it impossible to move. He slid a hand beneath her tummy, raising her butt a fraction. The knob of his cock burrowed between her labia.

Panting breaths lodged in her throat, she jiggled her ass, shamelessly rubbing her pussy against him. He eased inside a fraction and she whimpered at the tight fit. He felt huge inside her in this position, and the angle of penetration created exactly the right amount of friction on her G spot.

As if he were well aware of that tidbit of information, he leaned over her and pumped his hips in shallow circles, ceaselessly riding that glorious nerve center that brought so much exquisite pleasure.

She whimpered and moaned, her nails digging into the down-filled comforter. Jericho cupped her breast with his free hand, the firm pinch of her nipple between his fingertips threatening to shoot her over the edge. His other hand moved lower, playing with her pussy from the front. He grazed her clit, the feather-light touch making her shiver in wanton desperation. "Please."

"Damn. I do love how prettily you beg." Jericho nuzzled her neck, the rasp of his beard bringing its own brand of torment. "Almost as much as that sexy purr of yours."

He trust deeper, springing the sound in question from her chest. "Fuck yeah. Just like that." He sucked her earlobe between his teeth.

It was too much for her to take. Gasping and mewling, she broke apart, shattering into a million fragments of undiluted bliss. Jericho shifted his position slightly, and grabbing her hips, thrust fast and furiously, spiraling her climax into an unending wave of nirvana. Just when she thought he couldn't wring another orgasm from her, he drew her up into his arms, cradling her spine to his chest and belly while he strummed her clit. She cried out and shuddered, the powerful contractions in her core pulling Jericho into the eye of the storm right along with her. He bit her neck, her name a muffled benediction as he throbbed inside her.

The moment was so intensely intimate that it proved impossible to contain the overwhelming emotions bursting in her heart. "I love you."

Jericho froze behind her. Silence stretched endlessly between them, giving her plenty of time to pine for the ability to magically recall her words. Pressing a hand to her shaky stomach, she mentally shook her head at that futile wish. No, she would not take them back. She meant them with every fiber of her being. If Jericho was ultimately going to reject her, better to know now.

Reluctantly easing from his hold, she turned to face him. Shock held his features hostage. Certainly not unexpected. At least he hadn't made a mad dash for the exit yet. Then again, this was his house. Maybe he'd kick her out instead. The possibility stirred up the gloomy brew in her belly. "I'm sorry I sprung that on you without warning."

He continued staring at her like she was a puzzle he couldn't quite put together right. "You love me?"

Well, she couldn't very well take it back now. "Worse than that, I think you're my mate."

Another silence filled the void while he eyed her. Her heart pounded so hard, she swore he'd be able to hear it. A hollow ache settling above her ribcage, she cleared her throat and scooted to the edge of the bed. She reached for her bikini bottoms but Jericho grabbed her wrist, stalling her.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Getting dressed so I can go home." She swallowed past the bitter regret lodged in her throat. "Obviously I made a mistake."

"With what? Telling me you love me?"

"Yes. You're freaked out. It's okay. I get it."

He smiled. "Sweetheart, I'm not freaked out. I just needed a moment to process it."

Her heart skipped a beat at the endearment as well as the emotion in his eyes. "W-what are you saying?"

"Baby, I almost lost you in that portal. I'm not going through that hell again." He pulled her into his arms and tucked her into his lap. "I can be a real stubborn jackass. Shit, I excel at it. But I'm not so stupid to walk away from the one woman who makes me feel like I can take on the world—as long as she's right by my side. Day after day."

"Y-you're willing to give up your lone dog status? For me?"

He brushed the hair away from her cheek and kissed her tenderly. "Without question. Lola, I want you to be my partner. In business. In life. In everything. If you'll have me."

Tears rolled down her cheek and she brushed at them uselessly. "Yes," she managed to hiccup between her sobs.

He hugged her close one last time before rolling her onto her back and kissing the dampness from her face. She cupped his dear face, unable to rein in her smile. "I want to hear you say it."

"I love you, Lola McKenna—soon to be Lola Stryker."

She tapped his lips. "Hm, so you expect me to take your name, huh?"

"Of course. Jericho McKenna doesn't sound badass enough for the dude who hauled in two hundred thousand souls in one night."

"With his adorable partner right by his side," she added.

"True dat." He offered up a rueful grin. "You know what this means though. There's going to be no living with Dahlia now."

"Oh, she's not that bad. She did bring us together."

Jericho nibbled a path toward her earlobe. "And she does have impeccable taste in corsets where you're concerned."

"Maybe I can get her to lend me a few more."

"Only if they're all red."

She arched her neck to give him better access. "Mm, like me wearing that color, do you?"

"I like it even better when you're wearing me."

Giggling, she submitted to his lusty kisses as he swung his big body over hers. Oh yes, she could definitely get used to wearing this hellhound for the rest of her life. Because when it came to her ideal mate, she couldn't have found a better fit.

***

Thanks for reading Kissing Hell. I hope you enjoyed it! If you'd like to read more about this world, please check out the other books in my That Old Black Magic series:

That Voodoo You Do

The Seven Year Witch

Maximum Witch

Getting Familiar With Your Demon

Would you like to know when my next book is available? You can sign up for my new release e-mail list at <http://eepurl.com/btQSlL>.

· Reviews help other readers find books. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative.

### That Voodoo You Do

Copyright © 2010 Jodi Redford

Something dead this way comes...

_That Old Black Magic, Book 1_

For ten long years Griffin Trudeau has managed to keep his paws off Jemma Finnegan, best friend and leading star of his kinkiest fantasies. As her appointed cat familiar, indulging those fantasies with the delectable witch is strictly forbidden. But when Jemma shows up at his door with seduction in mind, control goes right out the window.

Too late he realizes making love to Jemma is the trigger that launches a zombie apocalypse.

Jemma's been dealt a double whammy: she's just discovered she's a witch. And Griff has been hiding whiskers and a tail. Oh, and if her life wasn't crazy enough, a dead voodoo queen needs her blood to raise a legion of zombies.

There's one plan that might work to increase Jemma's powers so she can put an end to the looming holocaust. A sexy threesome with Griff and Logan Scott, a werewolf familiar with a history of rubbing Griff's fur the wrong way. A cat and a wolf playing nice, much less sharing? It'll take a miracle.

Warning: A witch, tiger and wolf doing naughty things. A dead voodoo queen doing evil things. And zombies doing zombie things. Get your shovels ready.

Please enjoy the following excerpt from That Voodoo You Do...

"So what's going on in there?"

Logan propped his elbow against the frame, giving her a close-up view of his barbed-wire tat. Now that she thought about it, the symbolism seemed appropriate. Tangling with the lusty werewolf was bound to leave a few scratches. "Just Clarissa taking care of some coven business. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over, darlin'."

She narrowed her eyes. "That managed to be both evasive _and_ sexist."

"Damn, and here I wasn't even tryin'." He chuckled. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, she reached around him for the doorknob. He scooted sideways, forcing her hand to smack into his abdomen instead. His bare, firm-as-marble abdomen. Her fingertips brushed the warm hollow of skin resting just above the low rise of his button fly. Sucking in a sharp breath, she yanked her arm away and shuffled back several steps.

"Don't stop now. Things were just getting interesting."

"I, uh, just have to go and...um...yeah." She spun and stumbled in the direction of the kitchen before she did something really stupid, like follow the silky trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of Logan's jeans. With her tongue. That thought sent her tripping through the entry of the kitchen. She jerked to a halt when she spotted Griff in front of the stove, stirring the contents of a large stockpot. He was notably shirtless too, which put the mouthwatering expanse of his back on dazzling display. She stared at the muscles shifting beneath all that golden, velvety skin, her suspicions bubbling. It was too damn weird and convenient that both Logan and Griff were standing around half naked all of a sudden. Unless some devious shirt monster was making its rounds in the neighborhood, there was definitely something afoot.

And where was everyone else, anyway? She craned her neck, scoping the dining alcove for signs of Ms. Peach or Gloria.

"Hey, baby. You're just in time for a taste test."

She whipped her head around at Griff's zippy tone. Now she _knew_ something was up. Griff didn't do chipper, particularly not thirty minutes after snarling at her like a pissed-off Tony the Tiger. "What the hell is going on?"

Griff tried for a guileless look. Oh yeah, he didn't do innocent well either. "I'm getting lunch ready."

"Without your shirt on?"

"It's hot in here."

Well...that was certainly true. Even without Griff's muscle-icious torso making her girl parts all warm and tingly, there was no denying the temperature in the kitchen hovered between muggy and melt-your-panties-off miserable.

Griff dug a spoon out of the drawer and ladled some of the sauce he'd been stirring. "Tell me if this needs anything."

Her intuition warning her to be on the lookout for any sneakiness, she hesitantly crossed to the industrial-sized, stainless-steel stove. She tried to wrestle the spoon from Griff, but he insisted on feeding her the concoction himself. Almost from the instant the tapestry of flavors met her tongue, a seductive ripple of heat unfurled inside her, tightening her nipples beneath the sundress's snug, smocked bodice. Griff's thumb traced the outline of her lower lip. Holding her gaze, he lifted his finger and slowly licked it clean. If the humidity didn't melt the crotch of her panties, Griff demonstrating his perfect oral skills sure as hell would.

"What do you think? A pinch more salt and pepper?"

She stared into Griff's dark-as-sin pupils. Clearly he was waiting for her to answer, but damn if she could concentrate on anything beyond the flush of arousal making her dizzy with hunger. Only it wasn't food she was lusting for at the moment. Knees wobbling, she clutched the counter. "W—what's in that sauce?"

"Butter, egg, milk. The usual Béchamel ingredients."

Sure, and a liberal dash of horny goat weed and Viagra thrown in for good measure. She had no idea why Griff was trying to get her juiced up for sex. He knew damn well that all he had to do was breathe and she'd gladly tackle him to the floor and ride him until they were both properly yippee-ki-yayed out. Which left only one possibility.

He was about to spring some hellaciously scary sexual request on her. If a midget and a monkey strolled in right now, she was so out of th—

"Looks like the party is revving into high gear." Logan ambled into the kitchen, his expression wicked and wolfish.

Her focus shifted between the two gorgeous specimens of male flesh on decadent display, and the puzzle pieces began locking together. _Oh, sweet Jesus_. Her heart frantically tap dancing, she snatched the embroidered dishtowel resting on the counter and blotted her perspiring forehead. Either the heat and the sauce were getting to her, or Griff and Logan. More than likely, all four.

She shot Griff an accusing glare. "Now I get it. You think the three of us having sex will fix everything, and I won't have to worry about Nettie luring me to the dark side. Did it even occur to you to give _me_ a say in this decision?"

Griff thunked the spoon on the stovetop before giving her his full attention. "Christ, do you honestly think you wouldn't get a say? Damn it, you know I'd never force you into doing anything you don't want."

She plunked one hand on her hip and waved the other hand at the stockpot. "But you weren't averse to a little cheating, courtesy of your pasta à la sex sauce."

"I just wanted you to feel more comfortable. Relaxed."

"Turned on," she added, arching a brow.

A guilty flush spread from Griff's jaw to his cheeks. Chuffing a laugh, Logan joined them at the stove. "Catman had good intentions, sugar. The potion in the sauce is designed to loosen inhibitions and supersensitize erogenous zones you didn't even know you had." He flicked a glance in Griff's direction. "Maybe you better give her a demonstration."

She snorted. "Trust me, he already did."

Logan's mouth curled in wicked devilment. "You only got a small taste of the potion's capabilities. To truly appreciate its gift to the fullest, you need to ingest it in a more...intimate manner." Before she knew what he was up to, Logan unlaced the ties securing the sundress to her shoulders and pushed the bodice down, exposing her breasts. Gasping, she shot him a startled look. He awarded her a crooked smile. "Don't worry, you're gonna enjoy this."

Something warm and sticky stroked her nipples. She jumped at the unexpected sensation, her gaze shooting to Griff's sauce-coated fingers as they painted her areolas with the creamy substance. He lowered his head and followed the path of his fingers with his tongue, sparking a new conflagration of fire inside her. She shivered and Griff peered up at her, his eyes blazing. Curving an arm around her waist, he stood and claimed her mouth in a hot, devouring kiss. He tasted of Béchamel and exotic spice. Of magic and sex. She wrapped her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer, ravenous for more. Their tongues rasped in a mating dance and she wiggled against him, her nipples aching for the sumptuous devotion of Griff's mouth.

Logan's knuckles skated the length of her spine. "Noticing the effects yet?" She mewled a response and he chuckled. "Excellent." He worked the dress over her hips and the garment floated to her feet. His feather-light touch skimmed above the elastic of her bikini, teasing the dimples near her tailbone. She arched against Logan's hand, her knees turning to jelly when he palmed her ass and gave it a good squeeze. He snuggled close behind her, so close she easily detected the hard ridge of his erection suggestively rubbing into her. "I've got something for ya, darlin'."

Oh yeah. No mistaking _that_.

Griff's mouth trailed to the crook of her neck, and something soft and silky caressed her cheek. She reached for the fabric, but Logan swept it behind her head.

"Not yet. First I want something in return."

She licked her lips, a hot liquid rush of excitement pulsing low in her belly. "What?"

"A taste." Logan's teeth scraped her earlobe, making her breath stutter. He moved lower and tongued the pulse point beneath her ear. "Same as you gave Catman."

A whimper escaped her and Logan tilted her head, his fingers tunneling in her hair as his lips glided along hers. Sucking her tongue into his mouth, he gave her a sneak peek at the devastation he could wreak on her body. If she let him. The question was, would she?

### The Seven Year Witch

Copyright © 2011 Jodi Redford

After this much foreplay, something's bound to combust.

_That Old Black Magic, Book 2_

As head mistress of Beaumont coven house, Clarissa Miles has perfected two things: keeping her sister witches from accidently turning innocent bystanders into toads, and resisting the sexy overtures of her familiar, werewolf Logan Scott.

But her resolve is vanishing—fast. Seven years ago she sold her soul to save her father, and that contract is coming due. The allure of spending her last days indulging in some dirty, naked loving is too tempting to resist.

Logan has patiently ridden out the past seven years, content to do Clarissa's bidding and ignoring his consuming need to mark her as his. Now that the ban on witch/familiar fraternizing has been lifted, he's off the leash and ready to launch a full-on sensual assault on her defenses. They're destined mates, and he'll do whatever it takes to convince her.

It's delightfully easy to get her in bed. Get at her heart? Not so much. Especially when a deadly predator stakes its claim on her...and Logan faces a battle not only to win her heart, but save her soul.

Warning: This book contains a villain with more personalities than Sybil, a witch in search of redemption and a dirty-talking werewolf hell-bent on claiming his mate in every wicked, sexy way possible. Spontaneous howling may occur.

### Maximum Witch

Copyright © 2011 Jodi Redford

Who says getting eaten by a shark is a bad thing?

That Old Black Magic, Book 3

Willa Jameson is having one whopper of an identity crisis. Odd memory flashes that aren't hers. A sultry voice in her head that's obsessed with sex. Even weirder, she finds herself in the jaws of a rogue leviathan, dragged to the bottom of the ocean—and rescued by a hunky... _shark_?

The last thing Sheriff Max Truitt expects to find on his daily, deep-Atlantic patrol is a human—especially one who breathes underwater. Compelled to take her home, he waits for the beauty to wake up and reveal her name. Instead he's treated to a punch in the nose, then a sexy romp hot enough to boil water.

The next morning, embarrassed by the sizzling, scandalous things the voice in her head drove her to do, Willa slips away. But if there's one thing a determined shark excels at, it's tracking his favorite meal.

Solving the mystery that is Willa is no simple task. When they finally unlock a dangerous secret hidden deep in her subconscious, it drives a wedge between them...and puts them in a desperate race against an evil that seeks to rain down a watery Armageddon on all mankind.

Warning: This book does not contain sex with a puffer fish. There's not even sex with a seahorse. However, there's plenty of smoking-hot lovin' with a shark. And even a steamy M/F/M threesome. So slap on your snorkels and swim fins, things are about to get wet and wild.

### Getting Familiar With Your Demon

Copyright © 2012 Jodi Redford

He should push her away...but he'd rather have his wicked way with her.

That Old Black Magic, Book 4

After too many years learning death from the inside out as the familiar of a voodoo queen, soul collector Samael Gorasola betrayed his boss, which landed him on demon death row.

He should have known not even his punishment would come easy, but the deal he's offered to escape his fate stinks. Become the indentured servant to his despised enemy? No thanks, he'd rather be six feet under. With that in mind, he picks a deadly fight with two demon hunters, only to be rescued by one misguided, deliciously innocent white witch.

Marabella hasn't a clue what possessed her to help Sam, particularly since he's not the least bit grateful. She blames it on her overwhelming attraction to the dark, dangerous demon, and her exasperating quest to rid herself of the stubborn curse that guards her virginity. If the guild finds out, though, she can kiss her white-witch status goodbye.

A kiss is exactly what she gets, followed by a consuming hunger that breaks down all heavenly and earthly barriers...and leaves Sam saddled with the one thing he never wanted, a _conscience_ , and a connection to Marabella that puts her soul on the line.

Warning: This book contains torturous use of disco music, one sinfully sexy demon who revels in being bad, a virgin witch whose innocence runs more than skin deep, and plenty of wicked, forbidden sex with explosive side effects—literally.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

At the ripe age of seven, Jodi Redford penned her first epic, complete with stick-figure illustrations. Sadly, her drawing skills haven't improved much, but her love of fantasy worlds never went away. These days she writes about fairies, ghosts and other supernatural creatures, only with considerably more heat.

She has won numerous contests, including The Golden Pen and Launching a Star.

When not writing or working the day job, she enjoys gardening and way too many reality-television shows.

She loves to hear from readers. You can email her at jodiredford@jodiredford.com and visit her online at www.jodiredford.com, www.jodiredford.blogspot.com, and http://www.lustwithalaugh.com .

Jodi is also on Facebook <https://www.facebook.com/jodi.redford.3>

and Twitter <https://twitter.com/jodiredford>
Other books by Jodi Redford

Now Available:

Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters

Double Dare

Kinky Chronicles Series

Perfect Chemistry

Kinky Claus

Report For Booty

That Old Black Magic Series

That Voodoo You Do

The Seven Year Witch

Maximum Witch

Getting Familiar with Your Demon

Kissin' Hell

Thieves of Aurion Series

Lover Enslaved

Lover Enraptured

Also Available:

Taking Liberty

Light My Fire

Vanessa Unveiled

The Naughty List

Cat Scratch Fever

Breaking Bad

Checking it Twice

Three Ways To Wicked

Coming Soon

Frisky Business

Bad Boys Do It Better

Triple Knockout

### Perfect Chemistry

Copyright © 2014 Jodi Redford

When it comes to sexy geeks, Leo Martinez and Devlin Hawke are as hot as they get. But falling for the wrong guy has always been Sidney Chase's forte. She's not about to submit to her inner bad girl by giving in to her secret fantasies about her sex-on-a-stick bosses. When she's accidentally exposed to the supercharged aphrodisiac in their lab, Sidney tosses aside her inhibitions and unknowingly provides her bosses with an eye-popping display of self lovin' courtesy of the office security cameras.

Despite their mutual craving for Sidney, Leo and Devlin made a pact long ago to keep her off limits. The last thing they'd wanted was to scare off their best PA by overwhelming her with their kinky tendencies. Witnessing the arousing effects of their aphrodisiac elixir on Sidney changes everything. Not only is she the answer they've been looking for in regards to fine-tuning their formula, she's the perfect woman for _them_. And with a little help from one helluva sinful science experiment, they'll prove that love is far more potent than anything manufactured in a bottle.

Warning: This red hot office romance contains 3 parts sizzling m/f/m menage, 2 parts sexy and sweet geeks, one part wicked bondage and sex toys, and a whole lot of combustible chemistry. Safety glasses required.

Excerpt

Devlin grabbed his coffee mug and crossed over to his office. He powered on his tablet and scrolled through his emails. Nothing much exciting beyond a few tech newsletters he subscribed to and an ad for penis enlargement. He deleted that one and settled in to peruse the article on 3-D printing. Halfway through his read he was hit with the odd certainty that something was off about the placement of his paperclip dispenser. Frowning, he leaned back in his chair. "Hey, were you messing with my stuff?"

A grunt came from the other side of the wall. "Yes, because clearly I have nothing better to do than drive your OCD ass crazy."

"Well, you are a maniacal motherfucker." Devlin made a point of loudly plopping the dispenser back into its proper position. "And it's not OCD. I use the stapler more often, so it should be front and center, not the paperclips."

"Admitting you have a problem is the first step in recovery."

"Asshole." Chuckling, Devlin finished up his coffee and returned to the kitchenette for a refill. He was waylaid on the round trip to his office with Leo's request to fetch his reading glasses from the lab. After tossing out a few teasing digs about his partner becoming an old man, Devlin made tracks down the hall and fished his badge from his pants pocket.

The moment he stepped into the lab he was struck once again with the peculiar sensation that something wasn't quite right. As much time as he spent in the space, it was practically his second home. So with that said, if his Spidey-sense was telling him that a detail wasn't as it should be, he was damn well going to listen up.

Rubbing his chin, he surveyed the room, mentally checking off boxes as he cataloged each detail individually. Trash can in corner—normal. Lab coats on their proper hooks? Yep. Workstations prepped and ready for—

His mental inspection skidding to a halt, he stared at the empty test tube holder resting on the station across from him. The vial had most definitely been there when he and Leo locked up yesterday.

So where the hell did it go?

Determined to get to the bottom of that mystery, he retraced his steps to Leo's office. "Did you do something with one of the vials from batch 39?"

Leo tore his focus from his monitor, his brow furrowed. "No. Why?"

"It's missing."

"What?"

Well aware of where Leo's thoughts were jumping, Devlin shot up his hand. "Don't burst your coronary. We don't know that this is a repeat of Texon." But after having one of their prized formula's ripped off by a competitor several years ago, the fear was there of it happening again. Even with all the precautions they'd taken to prevent a reoccurrence, the threat was always present. There was only so much they could do.

Leo vaulted from his chair and rushed from his office. Devlin stayed hot on his heels. Once inside the lab, Leo confirmed Devlin's suspicions with a string of colorful obscenities. Raking his fingers through his hair, he shot a narrow squint at the panel obscuring the security camera in the corner. "Let's pray they were too sloppy to cover their ass."

What were the chances someone would be foolish enough to stroll in here and steal Xtacy without disguising their identity? Wisely deciding to keep that woeful dose of reality to himself, he followed Leo back to his office. With a quick click of his mouse Leo pulled up the link to the security system and located the time stamp for last night. He fast-forwarded through an hour or so of uneventful footage before a blip of motion flashed across the screen.

Leo's features hardened. "Got the son of a bitch." He rewound a few frames and pressed play.

On the footage, the lab lights flickered on and a woman stepped into view. Devlin blinked. "Wait a minute. Isn't that—?"

"Sidney." Her name fell from Leo with the same amount of bemusement that plagued Devlin. They both leaned closer to the computer as she sashayed to the workstation and picked up the test tube.

Devlin shook his head. "I don't believe it. Not of Sidney. No fucking way."

"Then what the hell are we looking at?" Leo demanded, his tone flatter than a desert highway. Despite the lack of inflection in his voice, Devlin knew his friend was hiding a world of hurt while he processed the visual evidence of Sidney's potentially traitorous activity.

"I don't know, but let's not jump to conclusions yet." _Come on, Sid. What are you doing?_ His heart knocking, he waited for the moment she'd put the vial back and scurry out of there, completely unaware of the real criminal lurking in the shadows about to abscond with the Xtacy formula. The wish was a desperate shot in the dark on his part, but he refused to give up hope. No matter how thin it was. When the test tube went flying out of Sidney's grasp and smashed onto the floor, he straightened with a jolt, renewed optimism crashing over him. "She dropped it. _That's_ why it's missing."

A fraction of the doubt lifted from Leo's gaze but his shoulders remained tense. "It still doesn't explain what in the devil she's doing in the lab."

"Who knows? Maybe she was just curious—" Devlin broke off abruptly when Sidney ripped off her blouse and wrenched down her bra. All coherent thought beating a hasty retreat from his head, he stared at the sheer magnificence of her breasts. She cupped their bountiful weight and tweaked her nipples. The real estate in Devlin's briefs suddenly became a lot more cramped. Gripping the edge of the desk, he risked a quick peek in Leo's direction and noticed his friend was equally enamored with the unexpected show.

Leo swallowed hard, his Adam's Apple bobbing. "We probably shouldn't watch any more of this."

"Yeah, we shouldn't."

They both kept their attention fused to the screen. Sidney's hand crept inside her panties. He and Leo adjusted their flies simultaneously. She bit her lip, her head falling back against the side of the workstation as her hips moved in rhythm to the motion of her fingers. Even with that miniscule scrap of fabric concealing the view, the sight playing out in front of them was tantalizing as fuck. She was completely uninhibited in her wild chase to the Big O finish line. The continued reel of her gasps and moans sizzled along Devlin's nerve endings, but it was his and Leo's names screamed at the top of her lungs when she ultimately came that sucker punched him like a two by four.

Holy shit. Jerking his gaze to Leo, Devlin discovered he wasn't the only one sledge hammered by that startling last part of her self lovin' session. "Uh, she just came while thinking about us." There was no denying the obvious. A person didn't just randomly scream someone's name at the height of passion.

Leo scrubbed a hand over his mouth, his wide-eyed stare still glued to his computer. "Fuck me."

"Uh, dude? Pretty sure that's _precisely_ what she's saying."
