She stood before the imposing metal gates of Lorcan Black’s residence. Not a house, but a sprawling mansion that loomed over the darkened landscape like a fortress. Ancient oak trees lined the long driveway and appeared to whisper secrets in the nightly breeze.
She pressed the button on the unmistakably human but high-tech-looking doorbell, the sleek metal cool under her finger. Silence greeted her, the stillness almost unnatural. She exchanged a glance with her team of magical law enforcement agents. With a sharp nod, they moved into action.
Agent Ramirez stepped forward to magically unlock the gate. He flicked his wrist in a practiced motion, murmuring an incantation under his breath, voice low and melodic. The intricate designs on the gate shimmered faintly in the charm’s wake but gave no reaction.
Iron.
Good thing Sarah Michelle had decided early on she shouldn’t rely solely on her powers in her line of work. She motioned for Agent Ramirez to step aside and retrieved a small kit from a side pocket in her uniform pants. Sarah kneeled by the gate, her fingers deftly selecting a pick with a rounded tip and a wavy one from her set. The tiny tools glinted in the moonlight as she inserted them into the lock, feeling for the tumblers with practiced precision. Within moments, she heard the satisfying click of the mechanism giving way. She stood up, pushing the gate open with a quiet creak, granting them access to the estate grounds.
They proceeded down the gravel driveway, footsteps nearly silent. At the mansion’s front door, another agent, a petite woman with fiery red hair, stepped up to the entrance. With a muttered spell and adept movements, she made quick work of the lock—regular brass this time. Sarah Michelle gingerly pushed the door open, half expecting to be thrown out by an anti-intrusion ward. But nothing happened.
How odd. Why would a rich wizard like Lorcan Black leave his home so unprotected against magical intrusions? Unease prickled at the back of her neck. Was it misplaced confidence in his capabilities to deal with any intruder or warranted reliance on his powerful magic?
Just how dangerous was this wizard?
As the door fully swung on its hinges, it revealed the mansion’s opulent yet empty interior. Polished hardwood floors gleamed in the dim light, and expensive artwork adorned the walls. Sarah Michelle signaled to her team with a wave of her fingers. Silently, they fanned out to search the premises, stunner guns out, eyes sharp for any signs of danger or deception.
While the others checked the living room and kitchen, Sarah Michelle made her way across the foyer, a distant noise leading her to the basement stairs, senses on high alert. With cautious steps, she descended into the depths of Lorcan Black’s domain, unsure of what awaited as the faint hum of machinery became louder with each step she took. Brows furrowed, she followed the sound, her steps light and measured on the polished wood.
As she reached the bottom, her eyes widened at the unexpected sight before her. The basement gym was well lit, a stark contrast to the darkened rooms above, granting her a clear view of Lorcan Black jogging on a state-of-the-art treadmill.
He was facing in the other direction, the muscles of his back rippling under his sweaty, bare skin as he ran. Even at this late hour, his form was impeccable, each stride powerful and precise.
Who works out at 1 A.M.? Sarah Michelle mused quietly, a wry twist to her lips. Is he trying to burn calories or appease a guilty conscience?
For a fleeting moment, duty slipped from her mind as she took in her mark. The photograph from the murder scene hadn’t done him justice. In person, Lorcan was more striking, his physique chiseled, and his presence commanding, even from behind.
Her jaw clenched as she studied his tall, broad frame, the golden hair, the curve of his shoulders. Powerful legs pounding the treadmill belt. Muscular arms pumping at his sides in a way that made her squeeze her thighs in response.
Gargoyles, she was this affected, and she hadn’t even seen his face yet. Sarah Michelle was almost afraid of the moment he’d turn and fix those penetrating eyes on her. If seeing a mere picture of them from afar had been so unsettling, she wondered what the real thing would do to her.
He was running with headphones on, likely the reason he hadn’t heard them ring the bell or enter the house. Shaking her head, she steadied herself, remembering her purpose.
With a subtle flick of her hand, she sent a small, innocuous pinch of power his way—and okay, she didn’t need to smack the magic over his buttocks, but they had been too inviting.
The effect was immediate. The sudden sensation yanked Lorcan from his workout trance, and he froze mid-stride on the treadmill, stumbling as the belt kept going. Showing prompt reflexes, he leapt onto the side bars not to be dragged down. After regaining his footing, he turned off the machine and slowly faced her, removing the headphones with a fluid, almost lazy motion.
When their gazes met, Sarah Michelle’s grip tightened on the matte-black stunner gun, the runes along its barrel pulsating with faint light as she aimed it at the wizard. The eye contact was as unnerving as she’d predicted, making her stomach clench while something inside her wanted to scream.
Lorcan Black seemed much more in control. His head reared in consternation for a moment at the sight of the gun, but he was surprisingly quick to recover. Too soon, a charming smile curved his lips—the kind of smile that would no doubt throw most women off balance. But Sarah Michelle saw straight through the pleasant façade. This man was way too calm for someone who’d just found a cop in his house facing him at gunpoint. Was he expecting them? Or did he consider himself above the law, like the rest of his family? Whatever the reason, he couldn’t be trusted. He was a Black, after all, and a murder suspect, no less.
She flipped the gun to the side, a silent command for him to step away from the training machine. Lorcan complied, his movements fluid and graceful despite the weapon pointed at his chest.
“There’s no need for the gun,” he said smoothly, his rich voice as calm as if they were old friends meeting for coffee rather than law enforcer and suspect. “I’m a law-abiding citizen.”
The rasping timbre in his words seemed to wrap around her like a velvet cloak, creating a disconcerting intimacy that made her grip on the stunner gun tighten still. Despite her unwanted, inner reaction, Sarah Michelle kept her gaze steady, refusing to let his magnetic charm sway her focus. She wasn’t here for pleasantries. She was here to get answers—to catch a killer.