Free Magic to the Bone by Devon Monk Page A

tailing me for money. Didn’t say you quit working for Beckstrom Enterprises.’’
     
     
    A little bit of sadness, or maybe guilt, seeped through the cracks of his calm expression. ‘‘No, I didn’t.’’
     
     
    ‘‘That’s what I thought.’’ I stood. It took me some time and effort to put my coat back on without grimacing, but I did it.
     
     
    Zayvion didn’t help me, which was smart since I would have smacked him if he touched me with so much as a single pinky. I should have known better than to like him. When people spent too much time around my father, they tended to get infected with his rotten morals and scruples. Too bad Zayvion hadn’t gotten out when he had the chance.
     
     
    ‘‘You should go see a doctor, Allie,’’ he said softly.
     
     
    ‘‘Is that you or my father talking?’’
     
     
    He just shook his head.
     
     
    ‘‘Good-bye, Zayvion Jones.’’ I zipped my coat. ‘‘Thanks for lunch.’’
     
     
    I walked between the tables and made it out to the sidewalk, into the smell of smoke, oil, and wet, dirty concrete. People on their way to or from lunch moved around me, and I tried to decide if I could sweet-talk a cabbie into a ride home. I had zero money on me, zero money in my bank account, and my crappy apartment was miles away in Old Town.
     
     
    Lovely.
     
     
    I stood there, sore, hating the rain, hating my father, hating Portland. But mostly hating that someone who was nearly a stranger to me could make me like him so much in so short a time.
     
     
    One thing I was clear about—I was a good Hound. One of the best. I knew how to do my job. And no soft-talking, mint-fingered Zen economist was going to convince me that I was wrong about that hit. My dad was behind it.
     
     
    ‘‘Taxi!’’ Zayvion called out.
     
     
    I hadn’t even heard him come up beside me. That man was quiet when he wanted to be. ‘‘Don’t bother,’’ I said. ‘‘I can find my own way home.’’
     
     
    Like magic, a cab appeared out of nowhere and pulled up to the curb.
     
     
    Zayvion turned to face me. We stood almost eye to eye. I was tall but he still had an inch or so on me. ‘‘You might be a good Hound, Allie,’’ he said. ‘‘And you might have your dad figured out, but you got me all wrong.’’ He grabbed my wrist, turned my hand over, and pressed cab fare into my palm.
     
     
    I should be angry. I should tell him to keep his money. I should pull away.
     
     
    Instead, I took one step closer. I don’t know what I was thinking—okay, I did know what I was thinking—I liked him, was drawn to him, despite my reservations, like a magnet pulled to steel. A jolt of hot, electric pleasure sparked through my body as I pressed against his warm, strong chest, hip, thigh. The smell of his cologne and the musky male scent of him filled me. Warm waves of need rolled beneath my skin. I could not think. I did not want to think. And I did not want to let him go.
     
     
    So I kissed him.
     
     
    I think he was surprised. Frankly, I was a little surprised too. But I was not disappointed.
     
     
    What I thought would be a quick kiss stretched out into a lingering moment of discovery. His lips were soft and thick, and I sucked at them gently, pleased when his mouth caught mine in an even deeper embrace. I bit, but not hard, and he answered by drawing the tip of his tongue so slowly along the bottom of my lip that I could feel the echo of it vibrate through every pore of my being.
     
     
    More, I thought.
     
     
    But he pulled back, pulled away, and suddenly the rain, the noise, the city, and the world returned.
     
     
    ‘‘Be careful,’’ he whispered. He walked away, hands in his coat pockets, stocking-capped head bent against the falling rain. It took a blink, two, before he was swallowed by the crowd, hidden from my sight, gone. It took several more before I could think again.
     
     
    The cabbie powered down the passenger-side window. ‘‘You want a ride,