The Witches on BellaRow Street

21. Coincidence or Guilty Conscience?

I live under the sun and around the corner from stars. *:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ:*

For five uncomfortable seconds, I stare at Detective Antonio Cree's hand, contemplating if I should shake it or not. I don't want to seem rude, but this is the Warlock who's currently investigating the crime scene I played a part in covering up.

And what do I look like shaking the hand of the guy who could potentially be my demise? However, he doesn't or at least, shouldn't know anything since Aunt BeeBee made sure she covered our tracks. Right?

Unless the photo-stalker sent him a note or photo too.

No, don't think like that, Yanni. It's just a coincidence he's here. And as long as the Councilman remain in a coma, I'm fine.

To make matters worse, I think he can sense my magic. Meaning witches and warlocks can spot their own in a crowd if they're close enough. Well, right now, I'm up close and personal. 

So, I have two options: I can either walk off to the bathroom and pretend like I do not see Detective Antonio Cree's hand, waiting to be shaken. Or I can play it cool, act like it's my first time seeing him, and of course, shake his damn hand.

Maybe if I smile then it'll look like--

Zion pinches my waist, snapping me out of my thoughts. I chuckle a bit, smiling and not because I'm conforming under pressure, but more so, I'm ticklish on my left side. And he knows that.  

I give my boyfriend a serious side-eye before glancing back at Detective Cree and extending my hand.

"Hi," I smile, secretly cringing. "And you are?"

Detective Cree narrows his eyes, gleaming at me. It's like we're having a Witch-to-Warlock moment in front of a human, aka Zion, and everyone in the restaurant. Hopefully, Zion doesn't notice how he's staring a little longer than usual or shaking my hand three seconds over the 'handshake' limit. 

"Cree. Antonio Cree."

I want to say, okay, James Bond but decided against it. Instead, this is my moment to figure why he's here. 

"And what do you do, Antonio Cree?" I ask, keeping up with typical questions people say by the bar. I already know he works for the NIWP, but what did he tell Zion?

"Well, as I was telling your boyfriend here, I work for a Private Investigation Firm..." Detective Cree pause, swirling his cognac before taking a swig.

For some odd reason, his smug attitude annoys my spirit, along with his leather jacket and denim jeans. He has that typical Wattpad bad boy 'charm' that all the ladies go for except for me. He's not my type.

Once he's done gulping down his drink, his smoldering grey eyes zoom in on me as if he's been waiting to say his next line all night. "And it's our motto to catch the criminals by any means necessary..."

"Oh," I let out a shaky laugh, holding my composure. "Sounds fun."

My laugh sounds phony as hell too, but I need to remain calm and stop overreacting. Detective Cree doesn't have anything on me, and if he did, then he would've arrested me and taken me back to the fake Private Investigative Firm he just made up. 

"It has its days," says Detective Cree, answering my comment. "I told Zion, I'm working on a new case, but something's not adding up."

My throat is suddenly parched.

"You're allowed to discuss cases with strangers." I playfully nudge Zion on his side, smiling, and peeping how my man is soaking up every word Detective Cree says. It's like he's under some magical trance.