Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

playfully. "They have cocks, too."
    Frowning, he studied the card. "What do you want a scribe for?"
    "That's my business. But they are getting harder and harder to find."
    He forced a chuckle. "Probably cuz they're all dead."
    She twirled her straw and took a tiny sip. "Maybe."
    "Everything all right?"
    Charlie turned as Luke came up beside him. His lover's mellow voice and solid presence ordinarily calmed him, but with Margo looking for a scribe, the last thing he needed was his scribe to show up. He heard Tim say hello to George behind him and he glanced over. The kid looked nine kinds of beat down. Bet he'd gotten an earful from Luke on the drive home.
    Though mildly curious what had happened at the jailhouse, Charlie had bigger problems to worry about. He plastered on a grin for his lover. "Yup, just fine."
    Luke eyed him for a moment, the knowing twat seeing right through Charlie's act. When Luke looked at the she-wolf, she grinned, her eyes roaming up one side of his huge frame and down the other. Charlie didn't have to tell her she was batting "oh-for-two" because Luke put a proprietary arm around him. "You need something, miss?"
    Making an expression of surrender since her feminine wiles held no power in this joint, she swirled her cocktail glass. "Just chatting with an old friend from the States."
    "Oh," Luke said in a friendly way. "How do you two know each other?"
    If Charlie had to guess, Margo didn't think Luke's politeness was anything other than a bar owner speaking to a customer. "Oh, we sometimes run in the same circles."
    She gave Charlie a sly smile, but the words 'I'm looking for a scribe' kept playing through his mind.
    What the fuck did she want a scribe for?
    As part of the Cause, she could be in London for any number of reasons. She could be looking for a scribe for a hundred other reasons, too. Had she come to Luke's Saloon that first night just to find her missing cocksuckers, Allen and Scott? Or did she have a more insidious reason? Did she know Luke was a scribe or suspect he had the grimoire?
    Charlie wanted to curse. The man's generous nature, his desire to share knowledge meant there were supernaturals out there who knew he was a scribe. He'd said witches came to him sometimes looking for information and explanations on different herbs and lore. As much as Charlie wanted to put an end to that shit, he knew he would never win the argument. Which meant he had to be extra diligent in protecting Luke.
    Thankfully, Luke followed through with getting the damn grimoire out of the flat and into a safety deposit box. It didn't mean they were out of the woods. If Margo found out Luke was a scribe, there would be no getting rid of her and the stupid Cause.
    The bitch needed to watch her step. He'd fed well the last two weeks and hadn't felt this powerful in decades. If he sensed she knew who Luke was, she and her two idiots would be dead in a matter of minutes. Lenny, Tim, Stephen and George he could mind wipe if he had to.
    Charlie would not allow her to threaten his new colony.
    "What's that?" Margo demanded, startling him from his murderous thoughts.
    "What?" Luke asked as she shoved passed them, her attention fixed on a picture nailed to the wall. The snapshot was of Luke and some cowboy buddies from the summer he worked in the States.
    "Where was that taken?" Her eyes flashed gold and a threatening growl rumbled in her chest.
    Dropping his fangs at her display of dominance, Charlie took a protective stance in front of Luke. Though he might be half his lover's size and shorter than Margo, the she-wolf knew who held the power. Blinking once, her eyes returned to normal.
    "It was just a simple question," she said sweetly.
    "Don't answer it," Charlie told Luke, his tone low.
    Luke's gaze darted back and forth between Margo, the photograph and Charlie, but he stayed silent.
    Margo sniffed and flipped her hair. Gods, Charlie hated hair flippers. "You don't have to get crazy. Just tell me when that picture was taken and where."
    Tipping his head to the side, Charlie studied her. Her pretty face fought a grimace, and it intrigued him how, in one flash, the woman could go from drop-dead gorgeous to frighteningly ugly.
    "No one's getting crazy," Charlie said in a calm way. Something or someone in that photograph obviously meant something to her. "But we won't answer your question without something in return. Isn't that how this shit works?"
    She crossed her arms and raised her nose in the air. "What