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

holster.
    Prometheus almost smiled. If a guy with a gun was supposed to scare him into obedience, Karma was going to be disappointed. A man with less than three months left on the clock felt a certain reckless disregard for bullets—at least Prometheus did. He’d never really developed a healthy respect for his own mortality to begin with.
    And pointing a gun at a telekinetic was just plain stupid. There were a thousand different ways to jam a firearm and Prometheus knew them all.
    “—and Ronna Mitchell. My lie detector.”
    Tension jerked the muscles in his shoulders up before he could control the reaction. A touch reader. He’d known Karma had one on staff, but he hadn’t seen this play coming. She’d warned him, but he’d thought he could sweet talk his way out of being put to this test.
    Karma had the grace not to smile at his reaction, acknowledging his discomfort with an inquisitive tilt of her head. “You don’t mind if I ask you a few questions, do you, Prometheus?”
    She wanted to test his intentions. That much was clear. She would have been stupid to trust him outright, but Prometheus found himself equal parts annoyed that she so obviously didn’t and uneasy at the idea of letting the touch reader put her hands on him. He wasn’t sure what she would see, how deep she would be able to go. Hell, the reader herself probably didn’t know. Everything he’d read indicated that particular gift was unpredictable, reacting to others with talents in unexpected ways.
    Would he be shielded? Was it possible he could even lie to her? Or would his every secret be laid raw? He’d never been comfortable being vulnerable to anyone. Why else would he have given away his beating heart for power?
    “You can say no,” Karma offered when he didn’t answer her question.
    He could. He could refuse. But the subtext was clear. She wouldn’t trust him. She wouldn’t do beyond the bare minimum to help him. He would lose her as an ally. An ally he couldn’t afford to alienate. Karma was the key.
    He forced his shoulders to relax and spread his hands in a magician’s nothing-to-hide gesture, drawing their attention to his hands so they wouldn’t see the nervous tightness in his face. “I’m yours to interrogate. Do your worst.”
    Karma did smile then, a close-lipped curve. “Hopefully my worst won’t be necessary. Have a seat.”
    She waved to one of the straight-backed chairs in front of her desk, but Prometheus crossed to the couch on the far wall and tossed himself onto it. If he was going to do this, he was going to be comfortable. Holloway dragged over one of the straight-backed chairs for the reader, Ronna, who perched on the edge and gave him a tentative smile.
    “It doesn’t hurt,” she assured him.
    He stopped himself before he snorted out, Yeah, maybe not physically . The reaction would have been too defensive. Revealed too much. So instead, he lolled back on the couch, draping his hand over the arm to put it within her reach. “Don’t be gentle, sweetheart. I’m into the rough stuff.”
    Holloway, hovering over Ronna’s shoulder, folded his arms so one hand rested against the butt of his gun. His fingers stroked it slowly, like he was fantasizing about all the holes he would like to put in Prometheus.
    Karma moved to stand a few feet away, feet braced in her high heels, arms folded tight. It was a power posture, but with her arms bound around her, she also looked like she was holding herself inside, the picture of intense restraint. “Don’t try anything or I’ll have Matt shoot you.”
    Prometheus raised a lazy brow. “Noted.”
    Karma nodded to Ronna. The touch reader licked her lips, returned the nod, seeming to psych herself up, then reached for his hand. Prometheus slammed up his mental shields, pouring every scrap of will-driven power he had into his defenses.
    At the first touch, her power jacked into his and Ronna gave a startled yelp, jerking her hand back.
    Holloway lunged forward, the