To Wrangle A Witch (Southern Sanctuary Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

they were in another kitchen this time, empty,
homey, full of warm woods and lots of light.  “We can only go to locations
that have been previously mapped.  Like the closet at the Fire Breath Inn,
thanks to Marvin.”
    Serena
noted just before Locke shut the door one more time that their surroundings had
changed, they were still in a pantry, but a smaller one, less organised than
Marvin’s.
    “Where
are we…”  She halted abruptly as the door was snatched open.  Dash’s
gorgeous familiar face staring back at her, the smile of relief on his lips at
odds with the concern filling his gold edged hazel eyes and the gun raised and
pointed in their direction. 
    “One
witch as requested.”  Locke shouldered his way out of the closet.
    “Thank
Maat you made it.  By the Sun Serena you’re a sight for sore eyes.” 
Dash flashed her a heartfelt grin of welcome before a shuttered serious look
swept over his features.  “We need to hit the conference room.” 
    Locke
shook his head, holding Serena out for Dash to take.  “If you’ll just take
Serena off my hands I’ll get out of your hair.  Tell Vaughn my bill will
be in the mail.”
    Serena
swallowed a snort.  Wasn’t that just lovely, the man couldn’t wait to dump
her and run.  She should be grateful.  He’d rescued her.  Saved
her life really.  So why did a sense of betrayal swamp her at the thought
Locke was not only willing but all too eager to get away from her? 
    Well
she could be a mature woman about this.  Politely thank him, then find a
nice safe soft bed to curl up with her pot plant and have a good cleansing
cry.  And it wouldn’t be because Locke Valhalla had hurt her feelings she
told herself, no it would just be the sheer… relief, yes relief at finally
being safe.   
    Dash
shook off Locke’s attempt to hand over Serena, the warrior stood combat ready
alert, his gun still raised, a positively grim expression on his features.
“Xander’s dead!  We need you both in the conference room, now.”

 
     
    Chapter
Four
     
    Locke
had been in countless conference rooms over the years where he and his
colleagues ‘got the knives out’ verbally, but Maat’s warriors had taken a
much more literal translation of that saying when they’d chosen to decorate the
walls of their large meeting room.  It was Dexter meets Salvador Dali;
everything was sharp, serrated, hooked, barbed or jagged, yikes.  Half of
the objects he could barely name, let alone actually use. 
    “I
suppose you’ll be sending Vaughn the dry cleaning bill?”  Hadleigh groused
from her seat next to his at the humongous conference table as they waited for
Rafe to return with the official report on the events surrounding Xander Marr’s
death. 
    Locke
turned to look at his sister, grateful for the distraction.   Anything was better than watching six over
grown line-backers fuss over one tiny Earth Witch, who was currently huddled in
one of the extra wide padded chairs at the far end of the table, wrapped in a
blanket, surrounded by an eclectic group of potted plants the warriors had
hurriedly snatched from the hallway and nearby offices.  Locke noted out
the corner of his eye that despite her fatigue Serena was smiling and laughing
with the group of hovering over attentive lugs. 
    Locke
gripped the sides of his chair, random and wholly surprising questions running
through his head. Goddess, had Serena ever dated any of the over-sized
Elite?  Perhaps more than one? Not that it was any of his business he
reminded himself.  With more effort than he was comfortable admitting too
he forced himself to focus on his sister.  Sprawled in the seat next to
his she seemed entirely unperturbed that her husband was kneeling beside
Serena’s chair currently holding her hand.  The man was married now for
Goddess sake, did he have no shame?  Again, not any of his concern,
mentally Locke gave himself a brisk mental slap, priorities man, where are your
priorities?
    “I
was