The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf (Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Book 4) Kate Quinn (read this if txt) 📖

Honestly, I doubt that would get through to him. And Nico doesn’t seem to let anyone get close enough to him to deliver these types of hard truths. Even if he wasn’t a supe—this is why I’ll never sleep with him. He’s so closed off and if we knocked boots, I wouldn’t be happy until I also knocked down some of those walls. Which would only end up with both of us being miserable.

Better to keep things professional.

Arms crossed, Nico has taken up the space at the center of the yurt, like it’s his command station. It’s hard to keep things strictly business when he’s in nothing but his underwear. Instead of undressing him with my eyes, I’m trying to do the opposite and imagine him with more clothing on.

It’s impossible, though. I can’t stop my gaze from wandering again and again to his package confidently on display beneath the tight spandex.

Turning away, I sit on the cot and then look down at my feet as if they’ll help me recount the events of the last day. Quickly, I go through everything, including the weird incident with Kama and the chocolate bar, and also the Giselle/Adorra meeting I overheard. Nico is silent throughout, although he does let loose a sharp laugh when I mention Priapus.

“Also your sex-ed teacher?” I ask. “Cassie was freaked out about him seeing her here.”

“If he goes near her, I’ll rip his dick off,” Nico snarls. The vehemence is so surprising. I feel another one of those irrational flares of jealousy. “If there’s something shady going on, he could be part of it. I’ll find him this afternoon and twist his balls until he talks.”

With anyone else, I’d think that was a colorful euphemism, but I’m pretty sure Nico’s telling me exactly what he’s going to do. Not wanting any part of that, I volunteer to look into the chocolate thing more and also try to get hold of Adorra’s tablet. From what she said to Giselle, I feel like any secrets this place might have could very well be found there.

“All right,” Nico says, heading toward the door. “Let’s meet up again after dinner tonight and compare notes.”

I agree and then can’t resist adding, “You going to the swimming hole now?”

“Wanna join me?” he asks, turning back toward me, a wicked curve to his lips. “The other two girls seemed friendly. I don’t think they’d mind sharing me.”

“Ugh, get over yourself, Nico Tralano. If you recall, I have a lot of work to do now.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself,” and then with a wink, he heads out.

I collapse onto my cot after he’s gone, for the first time wanting to put my Thunderstick to use. Which is crazy. Twenty-four hours in the midst of a sex cult and the first time I feel truly turned on is after fighting with Nico.

20

My yurt smells like Nico, which is not an easy musk to escape. It’s like passion and angst all bottled into too small of an area for a person to breathe. And I need to keep breathing, because there’s work to do.

Adorra’s tablet seems to be the best lead I have. Technically, I was hired to locate Vicky and make sure she’s here by choice—which she very clearly informed me she is. Even so, my mind isn’t entirely at ease. Vicky might be here of her own free will, but I’m not sure that free will is leading anywhere good. Between her and Seraphina being assigned to a non-specific “lab” that isn’t included on the chore list, and Adorra giving me suspicious side-eye, I’ve got questions.

But the biggest one has to do with Giselle. The past has taught me that wherever that woman goes, trouble follows. Whatever connections she has with this cult, I’m going to find out what they are. And I think the only place to find that information is on Adorra’s tablet…which I’ve never seen out of her hands.

Trailing a witch around a supernatural cult doesn’t seem like the smartest thing to do, but right now my only other option is joining Nico and his girls for some water play which…kind of makes my stomach bottom out. I don’t ask myself too many questions about why, I just grab my broom and head out.

I surreptitiously sweep the front steps of the mansion about fifty times, much to the annoyance of the people in line for the phone. With Adorra nowhere in sight, I put my energies into the wraparound porch instead, all the while keeping my eyes and ears open.

The squad of built dudes assigned to Hairy Underwood’s litter are laid out in the grass, letting the sun warm their already nicely-tanned physiques. Hairy is stalwartly guarding them, one ear falling a little too far to the side for an impression of life to be retained. But Hairy’s retinue is quite alive, and my sweeping takes me closer to their sun-kissed bodies as I become highly intent on the amount of invisible dirt accruing on the back deck. I’m on my third pass of the steps when I hear Adorra’s voice coming from the kitchen.

“Hairy! Hairy! Where are you, boy?”

The retinue jumps up, each of them grabbing their section of the litter and actually doing dog-like hops as they climb the steps, Hairy bouncing in unison.

“Excuse us,” one of the litter-bearers says, as they brush past me. I drop my broom and do the necessary face-plant that Hairy’s presence requires. Something light hits me on the head and bounces onto the boards beneath my hands.

Hairy’s left ear.

“Gross,” I say, looking down at its dry, desiccated surface. I pinch it between my fingers and am about to drop it through the slats of the porch when I realize that Hairy Underwood’s ear is my admission to the upstairs of the mansion. I get to my feet, tucking my broom into my elbow and trying not to look disgusted by the