Free Dylan's Witch: 10 (Supernatural Bonds) by Jory Strong

low-cost medical clinic where Electra worked because she’d rather risk making things worse than leave things the way they’d ended. Too much was at stake.
    * * * * *
     
    “What’s going on with you?” Trace asked as Inner Magick disappeared from the side-view mirror. “You were practically drooling in there. Ask her out. This isn’t exactly a high-risk situation. It’s a pretty sure thing she’d say yes to at least one date.”
    And could he settle for one? Would one be enough to finally get her out of his system?
    He had to shut this down. “If you’d seen her expression when you had Aislinn in a clinch you’d know the answer. Seraphine’s looking for happy-ever-after. I’m not happy-ever-after material.” He was too much like his old man when it came to women, untrustworthy for the long haul, though admitting it was like carving a hollow place out in his chest.
    Trace snorted. “Not buying it. Look at how things turned out with Aislinn and me. Look at Conner and Khemirra.”
    Dylan attempted another deflection. “Yeah, and that’s why I’m sticking with what works for me. It’s a hell of a lot safer.”
    Trace shook his head. “Let me get this straight, you’re telling me none of the badge bunnies are hoping for the ring and the cop husband?”
    “That’s why I suit up.” Not that he’d pulled a condom from his wallet or his nightstand drawer lately.
    “How long has it been since you’ve gone in naked?”
    Heat blazed through his dick even thinking about it. “Not reason enough to get married.”
    Trace laughed and went back to quoting from Star Trek . “Resistance is futile. For me the answer was never. Not once until the night I met Aislinn at Lily’s.”
    “TMI.” Way, way too much information, especially given he wasn’t totally convinced he wouldn’t do the same thing with Seraphine if the opportunity presented itself and all the reasons he should resist the attraction went up in flames. He was bad news for any woman wanting more than a good time.
    They parked in front of Elaine Young’s apartment. The sedan screamed cops to the occupants of the run-down neighborhood.
    A couple of kids playing soccer in the street paused to give them suspicious stares before resuming their game. The gangbangers hanging out in front of a house down the street all shifted stances, watching with an eye toward running if interest got directed their way.
    “Always good to feel welcomed,” Dylan said.
    Trace snorted as they walked up stairs made narrower by a ramp. He hit the doorbell and had to do it a second time, not that their presence hadn’t already been noted.
    Elaine Young answered with a full-body block of the doorway. “Yeah?”
    Mug shots didn’t improve on looks. But in the time since her last arrest, Elaine’s appearance had changed for the worse, going from strung-out offender to haggard.
    “Okay if we come in?” Trace asked.
    She stepped out of the way, her body language saying no but she had enough experience with cops to just want to get it over with.
    The furniture was crowded toward the wall. Dylan took Trace’s lead and didn’t bother heading there to sit.
    “We’re here about your sister,” Trace said.
    Elaine’s eyes jerked toward an open doorway then back. “What about her?”
    “She tell you she have a beef with someone in her unit?” Trace asked.
    “Why? She kill someone?”
    “So she mentioned a beef?”
    “Maybe. Mentioned some rich bitch a couple of times. I didn’t pay too much attention.”
    Dylan shoved his hands into his pockets, jingled the coins there, a message she was wasting their time with her bullshit. “Months of not visiting her and then when you finally do, you don’t listen to what she’s telling you?”
    It gained him a nasty look. “She’s family. Doesn’t mean I have to hang on every word.”
    “The rich bitch have a name?” Trace asked.
    “Not that I remember.”
    Elaine’s gaze slid toward the open doorway, but she caught