Naughty Karma: Karmic Consultants, Book 7 by Vivi Andrews Read Free Book Online

grip. “You can count whatever you want. Just try to stay out of trouble.”
    “My lady.” One long finger stroked the inside of her wrist as he lifted her hand. She thought he would brush a kiss across her knuckles, was braced for it, but he turned her hand at the last moment and his lips caught her unprepared on the soft, exposed skin of her inner wrist. Tingling awareness shot up her arm, but she kept her gaze steady on him, fighting to appear unmoved—an exercise in futility when he could feel her pulse racing against his lips.
    “Good bye , Prometheus.”
    He smiled as he released her, black eyes twinkling with pure devilry. “Karma.”
    She listened for the sound of the outer door opening and closing. When she heard the click, she pulled out her laptop and brought up the building’s security feed, watching through the exterior cameras as Prometheus took his time putting on a black helmet and leather jacket, throwing one long, spidery leg over the seat of a black motorcycle and finally roaring out of the parking lot.
    One eye still watching the cameras, not entirely trusting the man to stay gone, she plucked the handset from her desk phone and dialed from memory. It was still ungodly early on a Sunday morning, but she would beg for forgiveness later.
    Her touch-reader, an infallible human lie-detector with a weakness for carnivals, answered on the fifth ring with a groggy, “‘lo?”
    “Ronna. It’s Karma. I’m sorry to disturb you so early, but can you come into the office today?”
    “Karma? Whassat? Come in? Yeah, I… What time is it?”
    “It’s early. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Could you make it in by nine?”
    “Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’ll just…yeah. Nine.” A male voice rumbled in the background. “D’you want Matt too?”
    “Please. And Ronna, if you would, have him bring his gun.”

Chapter Seven
    Which Lie Did I Tell?
    Prometheus wasn’t surprised Karma had caught on to his annoy-her-into-cooperation plan. He hadn’t exactly been subtle, arriving at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning. Unfortunately, she’d been ready for him and seemed to have reservoirs of teeth-gritted tolerance beyond anyone he’d previously encountered.
    Curiosity, always his Achilles’ heel, goaded him to play along and go quietly, if only so he could see what she would mount as a counterattack. He pointed his motorcycle up the coast and drove, considering the enigma that was Karma from every angle, biding his time until nine o’clock—or a vague approximation thereof; he’d never been a stickler for punctuality. When he returned and let himself into Karma’s inner sanctum for the second time that day—knocking was so overrated—he saw that her reinforcements had beaten him there.
    The couple didn’t look like anything to strike fear into the heart of a fearless warlock. The girl, a fair-skinned African-American with reddish-brown curls, gave off a pleasant, low-level buzz of power, enough wattage to power a microwave, but hardly impressive when she was standing next to Karma, who could have single-handedly lit Manhattan if she let herself go. The man appeared to the naked eye to be more of a threat, a buzz-cut Caucasian with a bad attitude. Cop or criminal, he had to be one or the other—but he barely gave off enough energy for a static shock, so Prometheus dismissed him with a glance, turning his attention to Karma.
    She looked smug. What advantage did she think these two gave her?
    “Prometheus. So nice of you to join us.” Karma stood in front of her desk, propped against the edge. She unfolded her hands and gestured to the pair to her left. “I’d like to introduce Officer Matthew Holloway, one of my security consultants—”
    Cop, then. No surprise there. Karma did like the white hats.
    Holloway nodded to acknowledge the introduction and deliberately shoved his hands into his front pockets, pushing back the edges of his jacket to reveal the awkward bulge of a shoulder