Free Kick The Candle (Knight Games) by Genevieve Jack Page A

Your booty call has been approved.”
    “Booty call? Wha—” The door to the foyer opened automatically with a soft buzz.
    “Don’t make me change my mind.” The guard’s bushy eyebrows descended and then he let out a deep laugh.
    I scurried through and into the elevator, chin up and ego bruised. When I reached the top floor, the doors opened. Logan stood waiting for me with his phone in hand—all bed head and wrinkled t-shirt.
    “Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
    “What’s happened? Are you okay?” His voice sounded frantic.
    “Uh, yeah. I just need to talk…if you are available…to do the talking thing.”
    He gaped at me. “When the doorman called, I thought you were engaged in some night-time battle with the undead and needed my help.”
    “What, you thought I was like injured or something?”
    “Yeah, like maybe bleeding from an artery? I’ve left instructions with the front desk to let you in any time, day or night, just in case you can’t make it back to your house.”
    “Oh, really? Just for the record, your doorman is a complete asshat.” This was my first time here, and Logan had never offered his home as a safehouse to me before. Sweet gesture but that info would have saved me some face downstairs. I guess he just assumed I would know I could count on him if I needed to.
    “Yeah. Sorry about that. Fred is good at what he does but he can be a little rough around the edges.”
    “He thought I was your booty call.”
    Logan raised eyebrows and whistled.
    “I’m not.”
    He ran a hand through his hair and wiped his eyes with his fingers. “Well now that we’ve cleared that up, come on in. You want something to drink? Hot cocoa?”
    I remembered the comfort Logan’s hot cocoa had given me when I was deciding if I should accept my role as the witch. I’d spent weeks detoxing from my addiction to his hot cocoa. I couldn’t go back there. “Tea would be fine.”
    He nodded sleepily and led the way across the hall, into the foyer of an enormous apartment. The open floor plan showcased a wall of windows overlooking Carlton City. A balcony extended behind the sliding glass doors. Logan’s furniture was neutral leather, the floors mahogany, and the décor, craftsman. Clean lines, warm wood tones, and splashes of red, yellow, and purple reminded me of Frank Lloyd Wright’s designs. It was masculine but comfortable, unmistakably Logan.
    “You have an eye for decorating,” I said.
    He glanced at me over the granite countertop of the kitchen island as he filled a copper kettle with water. “Actually, I had it decorated. I didn’t do it myself.”
    “Someone in town?”
    “Not anymore. An ex-girlfriend.”
    “Oh.” I was beginning to melt inside my arctic outerwear, so I did the cold weather striptease. I shed hat, gloves, coat, boots and snowpants, piling the outerwear on the back of his sofa, and took a seat on the barstool in front of the island. “At least something good came of the relationship.” I shrugged.
    “Said like a jaded lover.”
    “Maybe. Speaking of, I saw Gary tonight.”
    Logan almost dropped the canister he was holding. “Gary, as in your missing ex-boyfriend, Gary?”
    “The one and only. Didn’t I tell you? He’s a vampire now.”
    Logan set down the canister and opened a cabinet across the kitchen. “You’re going to need something stronger than tea.” He pulled out a bottle of my favorite Shiraz and popped the cork. A moment later, I had a full glass in front of me.
    “Did you have to kill him?” Logan asked softly.
    “Oddly, no. He paid me back. All the money he owed me plus interest. Just showed up at my door with a big leather bag full of cash.”
    “What’s he want?” Logan narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a flat line.
    “He said he didn’t want anything, that it was in the coven’s best interest to keep me happy and Julius insisted.”
    With a long swig of wine, he drank that explanation in and rolled it in his