Trick or Trouble (Holidays Ever After #2)

Chapter 1

The sweet, salty flavor of the Baby Ruth bite-sized candy bar exploded on Darcy DeAngelo’s tongue like the opening drum roll of Mannheim Steamroller’s Hallelujah Chorus.

Honestly, what could compete with milk chocolate, heavenly caramel, and salty peanuts all rolled into one cube of sinful deliciousness?

Whoever invented it deserved the Nobel Prize, or a firing squad.

Or both.

She popped another cube in her mouth and squinted at the second-floor window of the rat-trap version of The Bates Motel across the street.

Her target—beefy, balding, and reportedly allergic to fidelity—was on the second floor with his current girlfriend.

Her client wanted proof in the form of photos that could tank a prenup. No questions asked.

Darcy sighed. “I really need to go back to bartending. Less risk of death by boredom in a back alley.”

A group of sugar-hyped kids ran past her—Superman, a dragon, and what she could only assume was a walking dead cheerleader.

She adjusted her Dollar General witch hat and hiked her orange and black striped leggings up further beneath the sparkly black skirt.

The top of the leggings was digging into her waist, and her pointy-toed slippers were pinching like a crab on steroids. But hey, commitment to the costume.

Before long, the real monsters would emerge. Drunks, thieves, druggies, and women in fishnets up to their lower cheeks. She wanted to be gone before that happened. Her childish costume had a time limit on plausible deniability.

Her eyes lit up when the light flicked on in the motel window.

Show time.

A curtain swayed, revealing the familiar silhouette of Mr. Beefy and a woman who was in no way Mrs. Beefy.

Darcy raised her camera, smirking and snapping pics.

She waited impatiently for them to come outside so she could get a few close-ups.

These tawdry jobs were beneath the level of PI work that she wanted to do, but she had a love affair going with Baby Ruth and rent.

“Smile for the camera,” she muttered as she stepped out, intending to take a few quick shots of them kissing and feeling each other up. And then—

“Just as I thought! I’ve got you now, young lady!”

The words exploded above her like a bad horror movie, and a firm hand clamped down on her arm. In a blink, she was yanked off the sidewalk and into the alley like a leaking trash bag doomed for the dumpster.

“Hey,” she sputtered, her heart thudding. “Unless you’re the Halloween police, you’d better let go of me.”

But her captor was undeterred—and ridiculously attractive.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and built like he could pass for an invading Viking on Halloween.

He had the kind of jawline that made intelligent women do dumb things, and dark eyes currently narrowed with disapproval as if she were a thief who had taken his last Baby Ruth.

Forgiveness could be considered in that case.

“I told you what would happen if you came to this neighborhood, Holly. You didn’t believe me, did you? You didn’t think I’d go through with it, did you? Did you?”

He emphasized the last ‘did you’ with a shake of her arm as he stopped in front of some alley steps and scowled down at her, his well-shaped brows drawn together in disapproval.

“I don’t even know you,” she snapped. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to pull away from this back-alley lunatic.

He wasn’t trying to tear her clothes off, and he didn’t have a gun demanding her money.

Must be something else. “Is this some weird Halloween prank? Or one of those ‘reporter on the street’ scenarios? Because if you aren’t offering cash, chocolate, or wine, I’m not interested. ”

“I warned you, Holly,” he continued in a deep timbre that sent tingles up and down her spine. “I told you I’d spank you on the spot if you disobeyed me. When I discovered you weren’t in the area of your house, I came looking for you in your friend's neighborhood.”

Darcy gaped up at him in astonishment. Did he say spank? And who was Holly?

“What’s the matter, little witch? Cat got your tongue?”

Oh, he did not just say that.

Darcy was preparing a blistering reply when he sat down on the alley steps and yanked her over a pair of muscled, jean-clad thighs as if she weighed no more than the misbehaving cat he just maligned. “I’m not...”

“Don’t bother trying to deny it.”

She wriggled furiously but got nowhere except in a tighter grip.

It appeared he was determined to do this, and she had as much of a chance of stopping him as the darned cat.

Still, she twisted back to glare at him and tried to think fast when her witch skirt was suddenly flowing down about her ears, and her view of Mr. Heartthrob was blocked.

Darcy’s brain finally caught up like a racing freight train.

Witches had been running all over the area this evening in all sizes, some little ones with parents, and older ones with friends.

It was Halloween, of course, it was expected.

“Wait! You’re mistaking me for...”

“There’s no mistake,” he growled in a tone that suggested he handed out orders over breakfast and expected to be obeyed.

Poor Holly!

When his hand crashed down on her wiggling red and white striped posterior with a force that should be applied only to tight jar lids, she yelled out, “Listen, I’m not...”

He cut her off again. “You are determined to have your own way all the time, but not with me, young lady. That’s part of your problem, too big for your britches these days.”

He delivered the swats like he had a personal grudge against her butt, and Darcy screeched in protest. “You don’t under...st-stand.”

“Oh, I do, brat,” he growled. “Don’t bother with excuses.”

She flailed and cursed. “I’m...not.... Holly!” Darcy finally managed to bellow out between painful swats. Temper was overcoming shock, and she fought furiously, almost throwing herself off his lap. He had to grab her with both hands, but at least he’d stopped smacking her poor bottom.

“Good try. You don’t think I’m buying that, do you?”

“Let me up this instant,” she demanded hotly, shoving the hanging skirt away from her eyes and glaring back at him. Her bottom was aching and throbbing from the pounding he had already given it. He frowned at her again, and she was heartened to note his sudden confusion.

“I don’t know who Holly is, but you’ve got the wrong witch,” she shouted furiously.

He yanked her upright then, his probing dark eyes searching her face as he held her on his knee by her upper arms.

Darcy stared warily back, her chest heaving and her butt stinging like she was sitting on a hornet’s nest. Not to mention it felt like a fist had slammed into her stomach.

How could one man be so darned attractive?

Her arms tingled where his hands held her, and her gasping for breath wasn’t all from yelling.

“I think I might have made a mistake,” he admitted after his perusal. You’re not Holly after all.”

“Duh! I’m a private investigator, and you just assaulted me in a public alley. Where’s a cop when you need one?”

A sudden giggle from the sidewalk drew their attention, and Darcy’s head whipped around to see who had witnessed her extreme humiliation.

There would be payback.

Of the three girls dressed in Halloween costumes, the one in the middle locked her gaze. She had the same witch costume as Darcy, but with slightly different makeup.

“Wow, Holly. You never told us your uncle was.... like...radically hot.” This comment came from the bunny rabbit in the not-so-bunny-like costume—more like a Playboy bunny. And her parents let her out of the house in that get-up?

“You wouldn’t think so if he were really your uncle, Denise.” Holly snarked.

“Aww, Holly. I’d take him for a babysitter,” mocked the cat, her painted whiskers wiggling salaciously.

Holly huffed and stared at them disdainfully, her small nose in the air as only a modern teenager can pull off. “What are you doing, Uncle Logan?”

“It appears I’ve made a mistake,” he replied, his gaze narrowing on Darcy.

He certainly had, and Darcy was in no mood to forgive at the moment. “What is your full name? I’d like to know who I’m pressing charges against.” She tried to shrug his hands off her arms, but he held onto her as he stood up.

“I’m sorry for the mix-up,” he said apologetically.

Darcy’s bottom burned, and despite his apparent contrition, there weren’t enough Baby Ruths to cover the humiliation he’d put her through.

“You should be. Spanking women went out with the women’s lib movement, not to mention that it’s illegal. How does your wife stand you?”

“I’m not married,” he replied, suddenly smiling lazily at her.

When the megawatt smile came out, Darcy wasn’t prepared for the full effect. Something funny was happening to her knees. They were beginning to tremble as she tried to maintain her righteous glare.

Forgiveness might be his future.

Perfect white teeth in a tanned face, a square jaw with a noticeable five o’clock shadow, and a burnished black curl hanging down his forehead.

Deep gray smoky eyes finished a look that screamed ‘sexy male on board’ and she hated her reaction.

Just the same, she couldn’t help it either; her entire body was zinging all over, like every nerve had decided it was party time.

Looking around for her camera, she tried to hide her reaction by bending over to retrieve it. “No surprise there,” she snapped, desperately trying to cover her loss of composure.

“Let me help you.” Deftly, he scooped up the camera and returned it to her. “Can I give you a lift somewhere? Do you live around here?”

“No...and no.” She took the camera, and their fingers brushed against each other. She jumped like she’d been shocked by a static charge. Heart pounding, she took the camera bag from the pocket in her skirt and placed it inside, then slung it over her shoulder.

“What’s your name?” he asked.