Free Maximum Witch: That Old Black Magic, Book 3 by Jodi Redford Page A

her how close she and Max lived to one another. What were the chances they would never smack into each other in an unlucky twist of fate?
    Cheeks flushing, she debated the feasibility of going into the witness protection program. Okay, that was probably a little severe. Moving to the outer suburbs of Savannah—or more preferably, Mongolia—should suffice in helping her avoid any potentially embarrassing crossing of paths.
    Satisfied she’d concocted a relatively feasible solution to her problem, she peered at the dashboard clock. Eight a.m. “Oh shit .” The guild was having a state-of-the-union meeting in half an hour. Her goose would be cooked if she wasn’t there on time to take notes.
    One problem down, another shuffled in to take its place. She glanced at the beckoning front door of her townhouse before shifting her focus to the rearview mirror. Her frazzled, messy appearance reflected back at her with harsh mockery. There was no way she could show up at work looking like a poster girl for a one-night stand gone wrong . Which meant she’d just have to face Domino’s displeasure and show up a little late.
    Snuffing her frustrated wail, she jumped from her car and dashed in the direction of her apartment.
     
    An uncomfortable crick in his neck wrenched Max from a raunchy, wicked dream starring a lusciously naked Willa. He rubbed the aching tendon and rolled up onto his elbow. His gaze landed on his kneecaps—which for some weird reason were bound together by the twisted tangle of his sweats. He dropped his hand, blinking. In a hot rush, the previous evening’s sexy adventures tumbled through his brain. His cock stood at instant attention in fond remembrance. He automatically jerked his focus sideways, fully expecting to see Willa tuckered out next to him, but he was the only one occupying the woefully pathetic makeshift bed on the floor. He glanced toward the four-poster and frowned when he noticed it was empty.
    With one hand, he hiked his sweats in place and pushed to his feet, various muscles protesting their less-than-stellar sleeping arrangement. He walked down the hall and halted in the kitchen, his inner alarm bells starting to toll.
    Willa was nowhere in sight.
    He booked it across the room and yanked the front door open, practically ripping it from its hinges. Sprinting onto the stoop, he gaped at the vacant spot where Willa’s Taurus was supposed to be. “Sonofabitch.”
    She’d taken off. Why? She knew damn well she was under doctor’s orders to stay put. Well, Boone’s orders, anyway. Close enough. Plowing fingers through his hair, he stormed inside and went in search of his shoes. His cell phone buzzed impatiently as he passed his office. An irritated growl leaking free, he pivoted and stalked into the kitchen. He swiped his cell from the counter and grumbled a distracted “What?” into the receiver.
    “Sheriff? It’s Jona. We have a bit of a situation down at the station.”
    Max scratched his jaw, his frustration vanishing. It wasn’t like Jona to come to him with anything unless it was important. His deputy was damn good at his job, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that Jona wasn’t thrilled about working under Max. He wasn’t the only one. Pretty much the entire unit was leery of Max. His position as an outsider automatically excluded him from the Good ol’ boy’s club. Then there was his shark-shifter status. That alone earned the others’ wariness. Any way you looked at it, he’d been screwed the second he’d accepted his assignment to parish nine.
    “I’ll be right there.” He hung up and retraced his steps to the bedroom, where he exchanged his sweats for cargo pants and a black crewneck. It was as formal as their uniform around here got. Fine by him, though. He’d never been the jacket-and-tie type.
    He slipped open the top drawer of his nightstand and grabbed his 9mm and shoulder holster. There’d never been much need to carry it since most of his time on duty was