Free Ebony Fight (The Guard Duet Book 2) by Natalie Herzer

a map in his mind. Stone was used to being in control, but he knew that for this role he had to leave the reigns in her hands.
    Suddenly the trees opened up, revealing an old wooden jetty stretching out onto the dark waters of the bayou. A putt-putt was tied to one of its posts and, following the witch’s lead, Stone climbed into the boat without a word.
    Nature’s calm reigned around them, interrupted only by the rumble of the motor. Trees towered above them. Birds called out, the tall grass and leaves rustled. Now and then a fish would break the mirror-like surface, making Stone wonder what else was down there. Like silvery snakes, strips of water gleamed in the morning sun, and their shores were made of thick roots that reached into the water with veins of green. In case necessary, there were enough places to hide, and all provided by nature.
    Stone slapped at his neck and looked at his hand. It came away sporting a dead mosquito bathing in what he guessed was a drop of his blood. Lovely.
    The deeper they went the narrower and more overgrown the little waterways grew. The air became something primal; damp, warm earth mixing with the sweet scent of rotting plants. Trees reached out across the water with their bare arms covered in moss. Skeleton ghosts.
    Time seemed to slip away out here in the bayou.
    Hadn’t they passed this bend before? Stone’s gaze searched the surroundings and then rested on a dead tree standing like a silent guardian on the shore. He was sure he’d seen this one before. Where was the witch taking him? He didn’t like not knowing and struggled to keep up with the plotting map in his mind. Any other passenger would already have gotten lost in the green maze, but he wasn’t supposed to. He never got lost. Until today.
    Stone shot Becca a glance. “I thought you wanted to go fishing?”
    She grinned at him, her hand steady on the rudder, finding her way effortlessly. “Oh, believe me, we will. Arthur loves his fishing.”
    Stone ducked a low branch but not in time to avoid feeling the moss brush over his head, raising goose bumps along his arms. A foreign feeling to him. Confused and trying to handle his growing unease, he asked, “Who’s Arthur?”
    “A wise man.”
    “A witch?”
    “Yes, why? Do you have a problem with that?”
    “No. It’s just…not exactly common.”
    Becca snorted, an unladylike but honest sound. “Arthur is anything but.”
    Another bend and suddenly the curtain of Spanish moss opened up in front of him. A ramshackle of a wooden cabin came into a view, sitting a little unstable at the edge of the water. A jetty ran along its right side, reaching out to the water like the arm of a man dying of thirst. A shape was sitting there.
    He was probably about six foot tall but his frame was on the lean side. To Stone he didn’t pose much of a threat. Looking out onto the water, a rod in his hands and wearing the whole fishing regalia – green waders, khaki vest and a hat decorated with various lures.
    The guy lifted a hand in greeting. Two vacant camping chairs waited next to his and Stone frowned.
    “I thought you’d want to have a seat.” The man, Arthur he assumed, called out as they approached the jetty. His voice was gravely from age, and as Stone got a better look at him he guessed the man to be in his early eighties. The face was tanned and wrinkled from the sun, almost like leather, making the white stubble dusting his skin and bushy eyebrows stand out even more.
    Becca brought them close to the jetty. With quick, efficient movements she tied the boat to it before climbing out. Stone followed suit, noticing that she had a certain spring to her step, as if dancing to her own music.
    Becca leaned down and kissed Arthur’s cheek, a smile lighting up her entire face. “Good morning, Arthur.”
    “It definitely is now. I was hoping you would drop by,” he answered with a flirtatious wink. “Lovely to see you, sweetheart.” The man’s bright blue gaze fell on