And damn, did he ever.

He stood as she approached the table.

“Mr. Magnusson,” the club manager said at her side. “She insisted—”

“Yes,” Lowe replied. “It’s fine, Daniels. Thank you for letting her in.”

The man nodded, a palpable relief winding through his posture as he took his leave.

“What are you doing here?” Lowe asked in a rush, suddenly worried her father’s condition might’ve taken a turn for the worse.

But she appeared to be in good spirits and relaxed. She squinted up at him and gestured toward the arch leading to the lobby, a beaded handbag dangling from her wrist. “If you’d like me leave . . .”

“Oh, no—I’ll chase you down if you do.” He tugged the handbag until she stepped closer, grinning. “What I meant to say was hello, and have a seat, won’t you? You look stunning. And please tell me how you ended up in the same speakeasy.”

“Astrid.”

“Say again?”

“I called your house. Your sister told me I’d just missed you and where you were headed.”

God bless Astrid and her big mouth.

He pulled a seat out for her, then quickly shifted it closer to his. She laughed and sat down, holding a long strand of faceted black beads against her breasts to stop it from clinking. She looked a little breathless. About as breathless as he felt when he smelled her citrusy shampoo as he scooted her chair under the table. “I haven’t been inside a speakeasy since college,” she said. “I had no idea this one was so big. Elegant, even. Are your friends here?”

“What friends? Oh, them. No, they’re meeting at Coffee Dan’s. I decided not to go. I’m here to pick up something from the club owner. Magical charms.”

“Oh?”

“The woman who owns this club practices hoodoo.” He leaned closer and spoke in a lower voice. Mostly to catch the scent of her skin, but he also didn’t want to shout all his secrets to a crowded room. “She created the warding spell on Adam’s vault—which is where he’s keeping, you know, important things for us.”

“How intriguing.” She removed her gloves and tucked them inside her handbag.

“I should ask about your father and your day, but I really want to kiss you, so I’m feeling conflicted right now. I’m so glad you’re here. Why are you here, by the way?”

“Let’s see.” She ticked off a list of answers with her fingers. “My father is grouchy, so I couldn’t have been happier to move back into my apartment last night. I came here to make sure you weren’t meeting up with Ruby. And I really wish you’d kiss me, too.”

No need to tell him twice. He pressed his eager mouth to hers, smiling as he kissed her several times in quick succession. Then he slid his hand around the side of her neck to hold her captive and lingered a little longer. He was just about to deepen the kiss when another female voice addressed him.

“If you wanted a private balcony room, you should’ve told Daniels.”

Hadley jerked away. Standing in front of the table was a tall woman in her mid-thirties with pale nutmeg skin of indeterminable ancestry. Her hair was cut short in an Eton crop, styled into shiny brown finger waves molded close to her head, and she was dressed in a soft blue gown that glittered with beads.

He jumped to his feet to greet her. “Did you miss me?”

“The poker games upstairs sure did,” she said, a smile curling her lips. She set a pocket-sized cigarillo tin on the table before hugging him. Then she held him at arm’s length to look him over. “Your hair’s blonder on top. And you’re missing something.” She glanced down at his maimed hand.

“Gardening accident.”

Never one to believe his stories, she rolled her eyes to the ceiling before glancing at Hadley.

He placed a hand on Hadley’s chairback. “Velma Toussaint, this is Hadley Bacall, a curator at the de Young Museum. Hadley, this is Velma. She owns Gris-Gris.”

The women nodded at each other politely.

“Curious energy you’ve got there, dear,” Velma remarked.

Hadley’s eyes widened. She shifted in her seat as Velma looked askance at Lowe, as if asking for an explanation.

Not his place to tell Hadley’s secrets, so he just gave Velma a smile that was probably cockier than he intended. “Hadley knows why I’m here to see you. We’re working together, so she’ll be using the charm with me.”

“Well, then. Isn’t this interesting,” she said, keeping her eyes on Hadley as she flicked open the cigarillo tin’s lid. An herbal scent wafted out. Inside the slim box sat a glass vial and several small pouches made of red flannel, each about the size of a quarter. The tops were tied with white string. “Five mojo bags. They will keep your enemies away and give you protection from magical tracking spells, but only for a brief time. To activate a bag, you must feed it by anointing it with oil. A drop will do, right on the outside of the bag. Keep it in your pocket and don’t let anyone else touch it.”

“How long will the effects last?”

“Fifteen minutes, an hour. It’s hard to say. It’ll be strongest right when you feed it. Gradually wears off. One-time use only. When you’re done with it, you’ll need to throw it away at a crossroads. Any crossroads will do. Just toss it out of your car window if you’re in a hurry.”

“What’s inside them?” Hadley asked, sniffing the contents of the tin.