Read Online Vincent: Her Warlock Protector Book 5 by Hazel Hunter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Hazel Hunter
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might not be opening the door for students, but if she was in there, she sure as hell was going to open the door for him.
Vincent knew the moment he stepped onto the porch the place had been cleansed and abandoned. With his back to the street, he used a simple spell to pop the lock open, the door swinging open without a touch. He pulled his gun from his holster before he took the first step into the house. It wasempty. Vincent re-holstered the gun. Paulina’s clothes, jewelry, and books were all gone. He found a small wall safe, the right size to hide a grimoire, standing open in the spare bedroom. There was no car in the garage and the cell phone number listed on the website was disconnected. Paulina had bolted.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“SO WHERE IS she?”
Dalya the sheep was not in the mood to reveal any secrets, pinning Vincent with a beady eyed stare. She bleated out her say on the matter, turned and trotted up the ramp to hide in her hut.
“Not very helpful,” Vincent said to the retreating sheep.
At the top of the stairs, Vincent opened the door. Nothing. He stepped inside. The house was exactly as he had left it yesterday morning, right down to the note he had taped to the bathroom sink before leaving. She had not come home last night.
“Dammit,” he muttered.
Back in the Charger, he made yet another phone call to Aimee. This time, she answered.
“Look, I don’t know what you did, but she isn’t coming in today, so you can just stop calling.”
“Aimee, if–”
“Don’t call here again, asshole.”
The one possibility left was the last one he wanted to consider. He pointed the Charger east on the seawall, back toward the business district, dialing the first number he should have called.
“I need to know where Lionel is and where he might go to ground. Time to earn your keep.”
"Narrow the field of possibilities,” Louis said crisply. “How big a radius am I looking at?"
Vincent chose not to consider it had been more than twelve hours since anyone had actually seen Amanda.
“Here in town.”
“Give me ten,” Louis said and hung up.
By the time Louis called back, Vincent was in the business district, his progress slowed by the usual daytime traffic.
"There is an apartment in his name, as well as two possibles on the island, twelve if we expand into Clear Lake, two hundred seventy-six if we are looking at greater Houston."
"Jesus. Just the island."
"Choice A is St. Barbara the Divine, a small Catholic chapel. One priest, a Father Faigley who has been there for 32 years, doesn’t give regular services."
Vincent quelled his impatience as he listened to Louis type.
"Choice B is St. Walpurgis Universal Contemplative Center. Large congregation which includes some Wiccans, headed by a Hugh Murphy, denomination listed as 'indeterminate' meaning they make it up as they go. I’ll send you the addresses for the both along with his residence. Any interest in telling me what’s going on?"
“No.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
"HUMOR ME,” LIONEL said, as Amanda watched him take a seat.
He sat back in the beaten brown leather of the club chair, sighing as his slim form settled into the cushion. His light gray suit matched the gray dress shirt perfectly.
“I don't join a coven,” Amanda said, “Vincent will kill me. I do join a coven, your job is to kill me. I have no known talent outside a salon. I would be giving up nothing and getting my life back to normal."
After the stilted conversation in Lionel’s front door, Amanda spent a long, slow ten minutes sitting on Lionel’s couch while he got dressed. No photographs, no dust, no pets, no nothing. He either did not live here or was even more of a minimalist than she was.
"That was blunt. How does Vincent Harcourt fit into all this?"
"Does it matter?”
Her shoulders were so tense, they ached.
Lionel’s right eyebrow crept up his forehead.
“He doesn't matter,” Amanda forced herself
Vincent knew the moment he stepped onto the porch the place had been cleansed and abandoned. With his back to the street, he used a simple spell to pop the lock open, the door swinging open without a touch. He pulled his gun from his holster before he took the first step into the house. It wasempty. Vincent re-holstered the gun. Paulina’s clothes, jewelry, and books were all gone. He found a small wall safe, the right size to hide a grimoire, standing open in the spare bedroom. There was no car in the garage and the cell phone number listed on the website was disconnected. Paulina had bolted.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“SO WHERE IS she?”
Dalya the sheep was not in the mood to reveal any secrets, pinning Vincent with a beady eyed stare. She bleated out her say on the matter, turned and trotted up the ramp to hide in her hut.
“Not very helpful,” Vincent said to the retreating sheep.
At the top of the stairs, Vincent opened the door. Nothing. He stepped inside. The house was exactly as he had left it yesterday morning, right down to the note he had taped to the bathroom sink before leaving. She had not come home last night.
“Dammit,” he muttered.
Back in the Charger, he made yet another phone call to Aimee. This time, she answered.
“Look, I don’t know what you did, but she isn’t coming in today, so you can just stop calling.”
“Aimee, if–”
“Don’t call here again, asshole.”
The one possibility left was the last one he wanted to consider. He pointed the Charger east on the seawall, back toward the business district, dialing the first number he should have called.
“I need to know where Lionel is and where he might go to ground. Time to earn your keep.”
"Narrow the field of possibilities,” Louis said crisply. “How big a radius am I looking at?"
Vincent chose not to consider it had been more than twelve hours since anyone had actually seen Amanda.
“Here in town.”
“Give me ten,” Louis said and hung up.
By the time Louis called back, Vincent was in the business district, his progress slowed by the usual daytime traffic.
"There is an apartment in his name, as well as two possibles on the island, twelve if we expand into Clear Lake, two hundred seventy-six if we are looking at greater Houston."
"Jesus. Just the island."
"Choice A is St. Barbara the Divine, a small Catholic chapel. One priest, a Father Faigley who has been there for 32 years, doesn’t give regular services."
Vincent quelled his impatience as he listened to Louis type.
"Choice B is St. Walpurgis Universal Contemplative Center. Large congregation which includes some Wiccans, headed by a Hugh Murphy, denomination listed as 'indeterminate' meaning they make it up as they go. I’ll send you the addresses for the both along with his residence. Any interest in telling me what’s going on?"
“No.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
"HUMOR ME,” LIONEL said, as Amanda watched him take a seat.
He sat back in the beaten brown leather of the club chair, sighing as his slim form settled into the cushion. His light gray suit matched the gray dress shirt perfectly.
“I don't join a coven,” Amanda said, “Vincent will kill me. I do join a coven, your job is to kill me. I have no known talent outside a salon. I would be giving up nothing and getting my life back to normal."
After the stilted conversation in Lionel’s front door, Amanda spent a long, slow ten minutes sitting on Lionel’s couch while he got dressed. No photographs, no dust, no pets, no nothing. He either did not live here or was even more of a minimalist than she was.
"That was blunt. How does Vincent Harcourt fit into all this?"
"Does it matter?”
Her shoulders were so tense, they ached.
Lionel’s right eyebrow crept up his forehead.
“He doesn't matter,” Amanda forced herself
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