Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
KENSINGTON, TEXAS
Snowy-T’s team allegedly sent emails from 270 fake accounts to stop “Campaign Snowstorm.” For those not in the know, Snowy-T has been accused of adding stimulants to guests’ drinks without permission, as broken by celebrity news reporter Joanna Heart. The intent of these emails was to discredit the reporter.
Sorry, Snowy. You’re still stuck in the blizzard.
—Sexy&Social, All the Scandal You Can Handle
Five Years Ago—September
I pull back from leaning in to give my date a perfunctory kiss on the cheek when I hear a distinctive ping on my cell phone—the one assigned to the witch who has been invading my thoughts since she left Kensington a few weeks ago for her college adventure. Stepping back, I excuse myself. “I apologize. I have to look at this.”
The kindergarten teacher who has been dropping in to the shop with varying equipment from her classroom and chatting me up narrows brown eyes at me. Her previously dewy expression to in the past turns mutinous before she snaps, “Who is it?”
I don’t acknowledge her acerbic comment before I read the outcry of help from Fallon. An amused chuckle escapes from the back of my throat after my heart calms down.
Fallon:
Help.. Save?
Ethan:
What the fuck happened?
Fallon:
Heel. Pless help?
Ethan:
Christ, witch. You’re not making sense. Do you have a dog?
Fallon:
Hang onder.
Ethan:
Hangover?
Fallon:
K.
Ethan:
You scared the piss out of me.
Fallon:
Shhh. Yipping too loud.
Ethan:
You mean typing?
Fallon:
Sure.
Ethan:
How is it you can hear my typing?
Over and over Fallon sends me an emoji of a bell, telling me without exerting effort every message I send pings her phone. Part of me takes a perverse satisfaction knowing she and Austyn are feeling the agony from their morning after. A chuckle erupts from the back of my throat after my heart calms down.
Fallon:
Oh. God. Hurts.
Ethan:
You know the answer?
Ethan:
Don’t drink that much.
Fallon:
DIDN’T!
Fallon:
Two.
I smirk. Two drinks that likely knocked her and my niece on their asses. That is, if she’s telling the truth.
Ethan:
You two must be the biggest lightweights in history.
Fallon:
No funny.
Fallon:
Worse than hairy balls.
I really want to ask her how she knows about a man’s hairy balls but now isn’t the time to send the little witch retching and likely starting a chain reaction with my niece two seconds after her
I back up another step and nod at my date. “I had a nice time, but I have to go.”
Brown eyes I thought for a brief instance when they came into my shop the first time might be able to distract me from the woman presently texting me widen before they narrow into slits. She says nastily, “Did you double-book yourself? Get a better offer?”
I clear my throat and try not to come off as a total dick though I really don’t give a shit now about finding my way into her bed. “Actually, my niece needs me.”
She sneers, “Your niece is three hours away in Austin, Ethan. What could she possibly need?”
I’m about to explain when she pounds the final nail in her coffin, “Besides, rumors around town about your niece include she has a mother who can take adequate care of her.”
Stepping close, I hiss, “I really hope you remember when it’s time for your probationary contract to be reviewed. As you might recall, every member of the Kensington family sits on the local school board. Talking smack about my sister—a doctor—isn’t a way to guarantee you’re going to be renewed.”
Her mouth opens and closes like a fish before she whirls around and unlocks her apartment door. Flinging the door open, she slams it behind her with an enormous bang. Right after, I hear a scream of frustration.
I don’t give two shits. Glancing down at my phone, I realize it’s been six minutes since I texted Fallon. My recommendation:
Ethan : Keep a bucket close by. I’ll be there as soon as I can.
Three hours later, I laugh at the disaster before me. “You two look like you’re auditioning for a Cyndi Lauper video.”
My niece, Austyn, opens her mouth before slapping her hand over it and gripping the mop bucket closer to her. My face morphs into a frown. “Two drinks? What kind of act are you two pulling?”
“Juss two. Sw-Sw…” Austyn’s voice fades off as her eyes fixate on her desk.
“Austyn?” Now fear is sending alarm bells clanging in my head.
Fallon, dressed in a blue sundress has her head resting on the lower bunk. Her whispered words are slurred. “Nesser.”
“You mean never?”
Her face is chalk white, but she nods.
Concerned, I reach for one of their desk chairs and spin it around, straddling it. In doing so, it dragged across the floor, causing both to moan. I feel relief when Fallon lifts her head marginally to fry me with a glare so scorching I’d be incinerated if she actually had the witch powers I attribute to her. I confirm, “You’re never drinking again?”
She shakes her head before her eyes roll back, and she passes out.
I leap from the chair and lean over her, terrified. “Fallon.”
“Ssome...,” Austyn starts before gagging.
Calculating how many hours it’s been since midnight, I come to the conclusion that nothing about this is right. Not one thing. These aren’t two women who had too much to drink. A sour feeling churns in my gut. This isn’t a simple hangover. This is something worse—so much worse.
Thank God Fallon texted me.
“P-p-punch, Unca E,” Austyn’s words, as disjointed as they are, barely let me understand her.
I’m grateful as fuck when Fallon moans.
Fury replaces my initial disappointment in the two young women before me. Instead, the analytics training the Navy paid too much money to hone in me kicks in. “Is anyone else sick?”
“Y-yeah.” I absorb Austyn’s words before she leans over and hugs the bucket. Nothing comes up, but the sound causes a chain reaction in Fallon, who just dry heaves in place. I take careful note of their demeanor. They’re both sweating, stains easily visible along the sides of their dresses and where the dresses catch in varying locations. Their eyes are glassy. They’re both disoriented.
I swap out their buckets for individual bowls. A sneaking suspicion is rising inside me, but I don’t want to make a big deal of it.
Yet.
Neither realize what I’m doing when I bag some of their conjoined vomit in a ziplock after slipping my hands into sterile gloves. Then I text a number I never thought I’d ever be using again.
Ethan:
I think my niece was dosed w/GHB. I need some testing done.
Agency:
Fuck. Do you have the samples?
Ethan:
Yes
Agency:
Closest drop off?
Ethan:
Airport. Austin.
Agency:
Vomit, urine, or blood?
Ethan:
Vomit
Agency:
I’ll have the agent test on site.
Agency:
How certain are you?
Ethan:
Over 95%. May be other victims.
Agency:
Someone will meet you there in thirty.
Ethan:
Roger. Owe you one.
I crouch down to the two women who likely feel like their insides are coming out their mouths. “I have to run out.”
Fallon pries her eyes open and I’m confronted with emotions in no way is my heart ready for. Her eyes are swirling with a mix of agony and fear, plus something I refuse to let myself see—a feverish, naked longing. God, I want to consume the last of what I see in her eyes more than I want my next breath, but I don’t want it because some son of a bitch drugged her.
I reach for her free hand—the one that isn’t clutching the clean bowl and explain, “I wanted to check your condition before I bought any food—especially if I had to take you two to the ER. Now, it’s time to go get your hangover provisions.”
She relaxes. Her lips curve and her eyes drift to half-mast. “Taking care.”
I relish the feeling of her flawless skin beneath my fingers as they stroke down her cheek. “I promised you I would.”
“Close my eyes and die now.” At that, her long lashes drift fully downward and hide the unique shade of blue from my view.
My heart flips in my chest at the flippant words knowing if I’m right, there was a damn good chance of that or something else having happened to her and Austyn last night. Leaning over, I press a kiss on her forehead before I do the same to Austyn. “I’ll be back within the hour.”
I get to my feet and am opening their dorm room door when Austyn mumbles, “T-t-take m-m-my k-k-keys.”
I’m about to leave when I hear Fallon manage, obviously still drugged. “He came.”
It isn’t until I’m in the hallway, a hallway I note is filled with the noxious smell of puke, I confirm aloud, “Just like I always will. No matter what you need, witch.”
With that, I go to meet members of my former team for answers.