Page 32 of Soft Flannel Hank

“Jamie,” he rasped, turning his body halfway to face her.

She threw her arms around his neck, pulling her body close against his, and theriotof her hair grazed his face, causing ariotof sensation in parts below.

“I’m so glad you found me,” she said, turning her face to kiss his neck.

His body wanted to wrap around her like a python and squeeze her so tightly that she could never get away. He wanted todevourher.

But just as he raised his hand to cradle the back of her head, he remembered who she was and what she’d done. Not just to him, but to dozens of innocent people.

Hank reached behind him and took firm but gentle hold of her wrists, prying them apart and pulling her off of him. He took a step back, ignoring the knife in his gut when she looked hurt and confused.

“Hank?”

He shook his head, looking down at the gravel beneath his boots, his breath thick and heavy as it flowed in and out of his body, which was not on the same page as his brain about this woman. Because as much as all of the logical parts of him resented her, maybe even despised her, his body, traitorous animal that it was, wanted to throw her down in the gravel, roll her body beneath his, and pound into her so hard that they’d both be bruised.

His heart seized in the center of his chest, squeezing tightly as he watched her face fall. He huffed a breath, climbed inside the truck, and turned on the ignition.

Meatloaf’s voice filled the cab again. Hank backed up and drove away, so pent up that his hands would have been shaking had he not been white-knuckling the steering wheel. In the rearview mirror, he saw Esther standing where he’d left her, her arms crossed tightly across her stomach, watching. Watching as he drove away from her.

She’d seemed happy to see him. She’d thrown herself into his arms like he’d meant something to her. And maybe he did. Maybe yesterday morninghadbeen one big misunderstanding. Maybe she threw herself into his arms today because she’d liked being there just as much as he’d liked having her there.

He could forgive a miscommunication. Of course he could. He could forget it entirely. He could get over the fact that she was a witch. Probably. After all, one of his best friends was a vampire.

But he could not forget the fact that she was a would-be murderer. He couldn’t ever forget that.

Hank turned the music off and grabbed his phone just before he pulled onto the main road again. Nat answered on the second ring, even though it was the middle of the morning.

“Didn’t expect you to answer.”

“Well, I’m too keyed up to sleep. So I might as well talk to you.”

“You underground at least?”

He heard Nat’s snort through the phone. “No, Hankers. I’m enjoying a nice cup of coffee on my deck right now.”

“Asshole.”

Nat laughed. “You get my text with the info?”

“Yep.”

“Do you need more? I know it was kind of sparse.”

“Nope.”

“Damn, son. You’re confident.”

“I’m not, actually. But I found her.”

“Hank, I sent that text five minutes ago. I know you’re good, but you’re not that good.”

“I know I’m not. But I found her anyway.”

“How?”

Hank chewed on his bottom lip as the houses started to get closer together. He turned onto his street. “Let’s just say the universe dropped her in my lap.”

“So you went to Magda?”