Free Black Dust Mambo by Adrian Phoenix

innards in the towel. When she straightened, she handed the poppet package to Belladonna. “Take care of that,” she said. “And talk to Dallas. Find out if he saw anyone.”
    “Sure thing, Shug.”
    “I apologize,” Augustine said, again without an ounce of regret, “but I’m going to need that. Evidence. Magic DNA. I can’t allow you to destroy it, Ms. Brown.”
    A muscle ticked in Belladonna’s jaw, but she handed the towel bundle to the Brit.
    “I think you just made up the ‘magic DNA’ bit. Just be sure you let me or Kallie finish unwinding that spell when you’re done.”
    Augustine nodded. “Of course.” He looked at Kallie. “Shall we, Ms. Rivière?”
    Kallie’s gaze flicked from Augustine to the waiting HA(!) warriors. Like I have a choice . “Let’s get this god-damned show on the road.” Spinning on the ball of one bare foot, Kallie marched down the hall, chin lifted. She wondered if her black-uniformed escorts would just glide up beside her as a reminder that she was under arrest and not leading a parade, or if they’d just tackle and cuff her.
    Prisoner or protected? At the moment, she didn’t give a rat’s ass.
    The words written on the curl of parchment paper burned molten in her mind: Compliments of Gabrielle LaRue.
    If they were true, she’d never be safe anywhere. Not unless she fought back with everything she had—magic, muscle, and cold heart.
    And lost the only family she had.

S EVEN
B ONDALICIOUS
    Bracing his arm against his broken ribs, Layne eased up from his chair. “That was one helluva wicked right hook,” he said. “Woman knows how to throw a punch.”
    “Knows how to land one too,” Mc Kenna agreed sourly. “I hope ol’ Basil can catch up with her before she disappears.”
    “If he loses her, we’ll find her. She ain’t slipping away from us.”
    “She’d better not.”
    Walking to the door, Layne grabbed hold of each side of the threshold and leaned out into the now quiet hall. His breath caught in his throat as the movement skewered red-hot pain through his sternum. Holy shit, okay, not smart. I’m giving myself permission to kick my own ass if I do that again.
    “Where do you think yer going? Sit yer arse back down in tha’ chair.”
    Once the pain eased off the throttle and he could breathe again, Layne said, “There you go again. Acting like we’re still married.” The scent of cinnamon and fresh-baked pastry from the kitchens below squeezed a growl from his empty belly.
    “An’ there you go again, acting all knuckle-dragging man-stupid. I was yer teacher long before I married you and I am still yer teacher. It’s yer best interests I have in mind.”
    “I hear you, shuvani, ” Layne murmured, watching as Basil Augustine, cell phone pressed to his ear, stalked into the elevator at the end of the hall. Calling for reinforcements, most likely, to chase down one pissed-off hoodoo beauty with riveting violet eyes and quick-swinging fists.
    And possibly Gage’s murderer.
    But something deep inside Layne whispered no, no, no . Intuition or enchantment? It bugged the ever-loving hell out of him that he couldn’t be sure of anything at the moment except that he was alive and sucking in painful breaths of air, thanks to Kallie Rivière.
    Basil Augustine swiveled around in the elevator’s white-and-gold interior, jabbed a long finger against a numbered button, then stepped back. He flipped his cell phone closed. A lock of dark hair swept across his eyes, shadowing his face. His glittering gaze caught Layne’s, and his lips thinned into a tight, arrogant smile.
    Doesn’t think much of nomads. Well, let’s just justify that opinion.
    Layne released the threshold and sauntered into the hall. He returned Augustine’s smile with an upward tilt of his chin, then rubbed his middle finger alongside his nose. Augustine arched one dark eyebrow. But as the elevator’s polished-steel doors slid shut, blocking the illusionist from view, Layne caught a