Spring L.A.W. (League of Amazing Witches #2)

Chapter 1

Her book signing event was finally here, which meant Rayna Blackstone was feeling exceptionally powerful. Her dark curls were cooperating, her eyeliner was lethal, and she was about to charm the pants off a hundred strangers. Metaphorically. Probably.

Outside the "Brooklyn Book Bodega," a line of eager fans stretched around the corner. Some clutched worn paperbacks like holy relics; others wore custom T-shirts that said, Seduce Me, Rayna! in glittery lettering. One enterprising soul had a full-size cardboard cutout of Rayna’s fictional hero, Diego the Lusty Witch, wearing nothing but strategically placed smoke.

Rayna beamed. She adored her readers. They had taste, open minds, and unhampered imaginations. Plus, they weren’t prudes.

Behind her, Michael Mann and Daniel Simmons, her man-pets, confidants, and emotional support snacks, hauled boxes of books as if it were their military duty.

Because once upon a time, it had been. The Army may have taught them discipline, but Rayna had taught them joy.

And how to fold fitted sheets with near-magical precision.

Michael, in his eternal cargo pants and scrupulously tight T-shirt, balanced two boxes as if they weighed nothing. “You sure this is a book signing and not a Beyoncé concert?”

“She is the Beyoncé of witch-lit,” Daniel quipped, brushing imaginary lint from his tight tank top. “Except with more sex scenes and better world-building.”

Rayna winked. “Let’s not forget the bodacious ta-tas.”

Inside, the bookstore buzzed with anticipation.

Fairy lights twinkled. Scented candles gave off a mix of vanilla, sandalwood, and mild musk.

Rayna took her seat at the signing table graced with a custom tablecloth, fresh gel pens, and a tiny glamor charm tucked beneath her nameplate to make sure no one left with a feeling of dismissal or buyer’s remorse.

The signing began. People laughed, cried, proposed to the cut-out of Diego the Lusty Witch, and one woman asked Rayna if she could bless her Kindle. Rayna did, mostly because the Kindle might be possessed. The woman said pages were turning by themselves.

And then, from across the street, a man stopped. He was square-jawed, broad-shouldered, and radiated Military Bearing, or overbearing, perhaps. His buzz-cut caught the spring sunlight, making it look lighter than its medium brown.

He marched across the street, right up to the bookstore’s floor-to-ceiling windows. His name tag read A. Payne, which honestly sounded made-up, but Rayna had seen weirder names. Check out the backs of football jerseys, and your question about how they became so tough is answered.

Major Payne squinted through the bookstore window. His eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched.

Rayna’s heart pinged. “Uh-oh,” she muttered, mid-signature.

“What’s wrong?” Daniel asked, handing her the next book.

“Nothing. Just that tall drink of danger juice outside is giving me an allergic reaction.”

Michael looked. “Oh crap.”

Daniel looked. “Double crap.”

The moment the Major stepped through the door, both man-pets stood straighter than broomsticks and saluted.

The bookstore went silent.

Rayna blinked. Then, smiling like this was all part of the plan, she stood and placed a perfectly manicured hand on her hip.

“Well, this is awkward,” she said brightly. “Do I curtsy, or do we fight to the death?”

The Major’s gaze narrowed, then landed on her. “You’re Rayna Blackstone?”

“I am. And you are... here for the romance? Or just to reclaim your soldiers like they’re overdue library books?”

His eyes flicked to Michael and Daniel, then back to her. “They served under me. In Afghanistan.”

Rayna’s smile didn’t waver. “And now they serve under me. Kinky, right?”

There were a few nervous giggles. Camera phones were set to record video. The Major’s mouth twitched. Possibly amusement, possibly an aneurysm.

“I’m just here to ask some questions,” he said.

“Of course you are,” Rayna said sweetly. “But maybe after the event? Wouldn’t want to disappoint the crowd. They bite.”

The Major looked around at the eager fans and begrudgingly stepped back. “I’ll wait.”

And wait, he did.

Two hours later, Rayna signed the last book with a flourish, posing for a selfie where she kissed a fan’s forehead like a pope with contouring. Then she turned, heels clicking, and sauntered toward the Major like she didn’t have a single secret to hide.

She had several. And four of them were in her purse.

“Let’s talk,” she said. “But not here. I know a café nearby that serves decent espresso and then leaves you alone, unless you don’t want to be left alone.”

He raised a brow. “You don’t seem like the type to scare easily.”

Rayna grinned. “Sweetheart, I’ve faced cursed cats, PMS-fueled coven fights, and a possessed Roomba. You’re just a man in a uniform. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

Actually, I have to do an errand. I didn’t expect to get waylaid like this.”

Oh, now you’re chickening out?”

“Hell no. Just give me thirty.”

The weight of his stare told her one thing for certain. This wasn’t over.

The coffee shop was quiet in that ironic, overpriced way only Brooklyn could pull off. Artisanal espresso, exposed brick, and just enough attitude to charge eight dollars for a latte without blinking.

Rayna sat near the window at a high-top for four. Daniel had insisted on the lavender flavor. “It’s calming,” he’d said, as if she needed calm and not caffeine injected directly into her femoral artery.

Michael was late. This was not news. He stopped to answer fans’ questions about the real Rayna. He arrived in a chaotic gust of Brooklyn wind, slapping the door open and sliding into the seat across from her with that impossible, sheepish grin that could disarm TSA agents.

“Well,” Rayna said, stirring her drink with the slow menace of a cat about to knock something off a shelf. “That wasn’t exactly what I’d call a normal signing.”

Michael lifted his hands. “I didn’t know Payne was still in the city. Last I heard, he took some cushy job in D.C. Or maybe he went underground. Either way, I wasn’t expecting that entrance.”

“You saluted him,” she said, her voice sharp with mock horror. “In front of a line of romance readers. I thought one of the suburban moms was going to faint.”

“She did,” he said. “Dan caught her.”

Rayna let her head fall back against the seat, groaning. “Ugh. I’ve worked so hard to curate a brand that says sexy and strong, not secret military witch squad.”

Michael leaned forward, lowering his voice. “He recognized us. Both of us. That’s not nothing, Rayna. We couldn’t ignore him.”

“You okay?” Daniel asked, nudging her gently with his knee under the tiny table.

“I’m fine,” Rayna said. “Just thinking about how we’re probably going to have to memory-wipe half of Williamsburg.”

“That might be an improvement,” Michael said, wearing a scowl usually reserved for combat mode. “I just called Joell. She said, and I quote, ‘Oh, hell no,’ and then started laughing in that terrifying way she does when she’s already making a PowerPoint.”

“Great,” Rayna muttered. “We’re gonna get briefed at.”

“I mean,” Daniel said, after sipping his mocha, “we did just salute a uniformed Army officer in front of a line of witch-romance fans.”

“I didn’t salute,” Rayna said, pointing a finger. “You saluted. You could have stood there like reasonable ex-soldiers who were trying to live their post-military life without getting hexed by an enchanted tampon.”

Daniel raised his hands. “I’m sorry, did you see him? That guy could still break a grown man in half with his frown.”

“I saw him.” Rayna swirled her mug. “And I also saw how you both stiffened like you’d been caught with contraband in basic training.”

“He was our C.O. for three years in active. Hard ass, but good. Honest. Not the kind of guy who lets something weird slide.”

“Yeah,” Daniel added. “If he knows we’re involved in anything supernatural, he won’t stop until he’s got answers. And probably a PowerPoint of his own.”

Rayna closed her eyes briefly. The buzz of the place, the clink of mugs, and the low music all felt like a thin layer of normal stretched over something about to explode.

“He said he wanted to talk,” she murmured.

Michael looked up. “Talk, or interrogate?”

“Not sure yet.” She sighed. “But I told him I’d wait thirty minutes.”

“Cool,” Daniel said, checking his watch. “So, we have, what, twenty minutes to figure out how to explain that we’re part of an underground witch league that saves the world, but relocates every quarter and leaves us to babysit the weapons?”

“Let’s not panic,” Rayna said, which, coming from her, meant please panic, but do it quietly.

Michael leaned back. “There’s one option.”

“No,” Rayna said immediately. “I’m not wiping his memory.”

“Why not? You’ve done it before. He’s just a guy.”

“No,” she said again. “He’s not just a guy. He’s Major A Goddamn Payne. If we do it wrong, he’ll smell it. If we do it right, he’ll know we did something. He’s too sharp.”

“So, what… We tell him the truth?”

Rayna didn’t answer.

Daniel drummed his fingers against his cup. “What if we just deflect? Buy time. Say we run a private security firm. Get vague. Pull a little misdirection.”

Michael smirked. “You mean lie?”

“I mean, tell the kind of truth that doesn’t start with ‘I’m witch-adjacent with a PMDD security protocol that includes removing all dangerous objects from the premises four times a year.’”

Rayna took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. We play it cool. No lies, but no big reveals either. I’ll handle it.”

“You sure?” Michael asked.

“Sweetheart,” Rayna said, smiling without warmth. “I sold three million copies of Hexual Healing using nothing but charm and cleavage. I think I can handle a suspicious major.”

Daniel raised his cup. “To charm and cleavage.”

They all drank.

And then, the energy shifted.

Rayna didn’t have to turn to know he was approaching. She felt it.

“Showtime,” she whispered.

The door jingled.

Even the coffee shop seemed to flinch.

Major Adam Payne stepped inside like a walking thundercloud in uniform. He wore creased slacks, an Army-green jacket, ribbons whispering of wars and heroism, and an expression that could curdle milk from twenty paces.

Rayna sat up straighter. Michael and Daniel both adopted a kind of casual posture that practically screamed, We are definitely hiding something.

Payne spotted them and strode over, not bothering with niceties like “hello” or “mind if I join you?” He simply pulled up a chair, dragging it backward to the table, and sat.

“Thirty minutes exactly,” she said, checking her watch. “You’re punctual, if nothing else…”

What could be interpreted as an insult got only a slightly raised eyebrow. “So are you.”

Rayna sipped her lavender latte. “I have excellent time management skills. Comes from writing sex scenes on a deadline.”

Payne’s eye twitched.

Michael coughed to hide a laugh.

Payne cut straight to it. “That event… What exactly did I walk into?”

Rayna leaned back, crossing her legs. “A book event. With cookies shaped like penises. You know, wholesome entertainment.”

“I saw more than that.” His gaze scanned each of them and paused on Rayna. “You recognized me. But I don’t recognize you. And you,” he jabbed a finger at Michael and Daniel, “were taunting the poor ladies with muscles. Then you saluted me. What are they to think?”

“Old habits,” Michael said smoothly. “The coffee smelled patriotic.”

Daniel nodded. “It did. Very Constitution-y.”

Payne didn’t blink. “I ran point on dozens of recon teams. I know what it looks like when soldiers are hiding something. And you three are hiding something.”

Rayna smiled, sugar-sweet but lethal. “They’re not soldiers anymore, Major. And I never was. We’re entrepreneurs.”

Daniel picked it up immediately. “Right. Freelance crisis mitigation specialists.”

Michael added, “With a wellness-slash-consulting angle.”

Payne stared. “You mean mercenaries?”

Rayna laughed. “How dare you. We’re very expensive. Mercenaries are cheap in comparison and wear too much tactical gear.”

“I know bullshit when I hear it,” Payne said. “So, let’s skip the nonsense. You’ve got sixty seconds to give me a straight answer before I start making calls.”

Rayna tilted her head. “To whom? The supernatural division of Homeland Security?”

Payne frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just joking. Writer’s brain. We’re bad at reality.”

Michael cleared his throat. “Look. We do handle unusual cases.”

Daniel jumped in. “And some of those cases, let’s say, operate outside normal scientific parameters.”

Payne leaned forward. “Are you telling me you’re involved in paranormal activities?”

Rayna gave him her best deadpan. “Define paranormal.”

“Ghosts. Witchcraft. Demons.”

Rayna shrugged. “I mean, I’ve had bad Tinder dates that checked all three boxes.”

Payne didn’t smile.

She sighed. “We keep people safe. We’ve got procedures. Paperwork. PowerPoints.”

Daniel muttered, “So many PowerPoints.”

“I don’t need your jokes,” Payne said, voice low. “I need the truth.”

Michael held up a hand. “Major, we respect you. You protected us. But the truth is... complicated.”

Rayna nodded. “It’s not the kind of thing we can explain without diagrams. And possibly incense.”

For a long moment, Payne just stared. Then he sat back.

“I don’t buy half of what you’ve said, but I buy the part that says this goes deeper than I thought. I’ll be watching.”

Rayna sipped her drink. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He stood, adjusted his cuffs like he was prepping for a trial, and walked out.

The bell jingled as the door closed.

Then Daniel said what they were all thinking: “Well, that wasn’t terrifying at all.”

Michael leaned forward. “Think he bought it?”

Rayna didn’t answer.

Her eyes were fixed on the window. Across the street, under the awning of a boutique, a figure in a long gray coat stood perfectly still.

Watching.

They wore sunglasses despite the overcast sky, and something about the stillness was wrong. Not casual, loitering, or neighborly interest. Statue still. Predatory.

Rayna’s fingers tightened around her cup.

“We’ve got company,” she said quietly.

Michael followed her gaze. “You know him?”

“Or what he wants?” Daniel added.

“No,” she said. “And that’s what bothers me.”