Sinister Secrets

by Amanda McKinney

  Holy shit.

  Her eyes widened with recognition as she looked him over—the light brown hair combed to the side, held in place with way too much gel. The dot of an earring hole in his right ear—an unfortunate side-effect of too many tequila shots after finals, and the little scar cutting through his left eyebrow, just above his deep green eyes, now glazed over with the finality of death.

  She knew this man.

  Her mind began to race as she quickly stepped around the lifeless legs and squatted down.

  Joel Davis.

  Freaking Joel Davis—an FBI agent who she’d gone through the academy with before joining the Black Rose Investigations team.

  She swiped the rain pouring down her face. What the hell was Joel doing in the little town of Devil’s Den? More importantly, who had shot him point blank and left him to rot at the bottom of a ravine?

  With the tip of her finger, she carefully lifted his blazer and plucked the wallet from his belt. Definitely not a robbery gone bad.

  Her stomach sank as she looked down at Joel’s smiling face on his Virginia driver’s license, and the memory of her first meeting with him flashed through her head…

  “You’re Fiona Monreau, right?”

  Fiona glanced up from the textbook in her hand, and a beer clutched in the other. “One and the same.”

  “Nothing like studying with a drink. Or, studying in a bar for that matter.”

  She cocked her head, looking him over.

  He laughed. “Sorry, I’m Joel.”

  Her gaze shifted to a man passing by.

  “I’m a class under you,” he continued.

  She nodded. “Well, Joel, it’s nice to meet you, and unless you plan on buying the entire bar a drink, I suggest you get back to your buddy in the green shirt who just swiped your wallet from your coat pocket…”

  His eyes widened as his hand patted his pocket.

  She grinned. “I hear you guys were just taught lifts. Always keep your head on a swivel.”

  The newbie shook his head, looked back at his buddies—each also in training and grinning from ear to ear—then looked back at her. “Bastards.” The corner of his lip curled up. “I should Monreau them.”

  “Monreau them?”

  He grinned, a charming twinkle in his green eyes. “Yeah, you’ve become quite the legend around here, starting with you knocking that three-hundred-pound bastard on his ass in Hogan’s Alley. Dude didn’t even see it coming. Heard he got quite the lashing for it.”

  She shrugged. “Like I said… Important to keep your head on a swivel.”

  “A lesson from Fiona Monreau… Not soon to be forgotten… Kind of like your other talent. I hear you can drink most men under the table.” He smirked. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  She glanced at the platter of shots being delivered around the room. “I think you already have.”

  He looked over his shoulder, then shook his head. “Bastards. How about later? Tomorrow night?”

  She slowly sipped her beer. “I don’t date fellow agents.”

  “Damn shame, Monreau.” He swiped a shot from the waitress passing by, swallowed, and tipped up the empty glass. “Until we meet again, then.”

  She closed her eyes and shook the image from her head—Joel Davis, so full of life and charisma, so different than the man in front of her now.

  She thumbed through the wallet and pulled a small piece of paper from the side pocket—a receipt for a one night stay at the Towering Pines Inn, one of the seediest hotels in the area.

  What the hell was Joel doing staying there?

  Just then, in the distance—

  “Fioooooona!”

  She surged to her feet, her eyes the size of golf balls. Was she hearing things? Was it possible someone had finally found her?

  “Fiona?!”

  She lunged away from Joel’s body, hopped over the slick rocks and maneuvered her way to a small clearing. The rain blurred her vision as she looked up the steep rock walls and saw the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen—Scarlett Knight staring down at her from the top of the ravine.

  CHAPTER 2

  The rain pinged against the window, breaking the heavy silence that filled the room. It was still morning, although the dreary weather made it seem much earlier… or later for that matter. Fiona looked around the room at the concerned faces staring back at her. Roxy, Scar, and Dixie, sisters and owners of Black Rose Investigations, sat on the edge of the couch in front of her. The almost identical-looking sisters wore the same hard expression across their beautiful faces, their long, dark hair pulled back and messy from an evening of hiking through the woods looking for her, their almond-shaped eyes shaded from exhaustion. Their bodies were tense, sick over the fact that one of their own had been kidnapped.

  Their assistants, Harley and Raven, stood stoically behind them, arms crossed over their chests, with the same worried expressions.

  And then there was Ace, the office manager, super-genius, and notorious ladies’ man, standing to the side, angling himself in front of the main entrance of her house. It was a protective stance, in case anyone tried to get in. Dressed in a black T-shirt, khaki tactical pants and black ATAC boots, he looked more like a soldier than someone who could hack into any computer system on the planet.

  Each of them were covered head-to-toe in dirt, each willing to do whatever was necessary to make sure she was safe. That was what she loved about Black Rose. From the moment Roxy had recruited Fiona from the FBI Academy to be her assistant, the team took her in and made her part of their extremely tight-knit family. It was an unspoken understanding that each would do anything for the other.

  Just like they’d done not two hours earlier—going to the ends of the earth to find her.

  There were still so many questions, and although Fiona had tried to answer them all, the team was still wary of what the future held.

  She squeezed the blanket they’d wrapped around her and sipped the Chamomile tea Scar had made for her. Although she was finally dry, she was still chilled to the bone, but it had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

  “So, let me get this straight… Again.” Ace began pacing, which he had been doing off and on since arriving at her house. “You remember walking into a secret room in the library… and you remember seeing someone—Krestel—but that’s it. You go blank.”

  “That’s right. She obviously erased my memory of everything else.”

  “And then burned down the entire building to cover her tracks,” he muttered.

  “And she did this because you found the Great Shadow Book of Secrets. Her book that she trains each of her witches with.” Harley added.

  Dixie, whose head was wrapped in a muddy, red bandana, looked down at the piece of paper in her hand. “But, before she knocked you out, you were able to pull a page from the book—

  Roxy, the oldest and unofficial leader of the group interrupted and stood, unable to sit any longer. “The spell.”

  Fiona slowly nodded.

  Roxy shook her head. “Fi, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred damn times… You’re too fearless for your own good. You should’ve called us the moment you found the room. You should have never ventured down in the basement alone.” Her voice raised. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed last night.”

  Scar stood, placing her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Rox, she knows.” Her voice was soft and calm, reflecting the cool, hippie demeanor she was known for.

  “Do you think Krestel knows,” Harley asked. “Do you think she knows you have the spell?”

  Fiona vehemently shook her head. “No way. I must’ve taken the page before she found me. If she would’ve seen it, you all know she would have taken it from me… and then, taken care of me. She erased my memory, so in her mind, I’m not a threat any longer. No need to kill me if I don’t remember a thing.”

  “Then she dumped you in the middle of the mountains, surely thinking you wouldn’t make it out alive.” Roxy’s face
tightened with anger. “No blood on her hands.”

  “She can’t get away with this bullshit much longer,” Ace growled. “She’ll fuck up. Leave a trail. If we won’t get her, Zander will.”

  “Does Zander know?” Fiona sat up. She hadn’t even thought of the Lieutenant, or police department for that matter. “I’ll need to give a statement about Joel as soon—

  “It’s done. The entire department is down in the ravine right now.” Roxy said. “And, yes, he knows.”

  “You told him the truth? Why I was there?”

  “Yes. He knows everything about Krestel, the library—everything. I told him in confidence, not that it mattered, anyway. He’s got another homicide on his hands, and a high profile one at that. He was one the phone with the feds last I spoke with him. He doesn’t have time to worry about Krestel right now.”

  “When was that?”

  “While we were on our way here. I convinced him not to come over, or say anything about what happened with Krestel until we can wrap our heads around the situation.” She clenched her jaw. “Dammit Fiona… you should’ve never gone down there. You should’ve never gone into some hidden room in the library. A building rumored to be run by a witch. I mean, shit, Fi. Use your judgment.”

  Scar flashed a not-so-subtle cool-it glance at her sister. “But because of Fi’s carelessness, or bravery, she was able to get what we’ve been looking for, for weeks now. The spell to finally bring down Krestel. The only spell that can kill her.”

  Harley leaned forward, her chestnut-brown, curly hair a ball of frizz, and pulled the spell from Dixie’s hands. “Dragon’s Breath… Interesting name for a spell.”

  “Fire. Remember, Krestel’s unique power is pyrokinesis, so it makes sense. Fight fire with fire,” Ace said.

  “So what the hell? We’re just supposed to call up and order a dragon to come and blow it’s nasty-ass fire breath on her?”

  Ace shook his head and took the paper from Harley. “No, it says here we need a lock of the witch’s hair—her hair—an article of her clothing, and Dragon’s Breath…”

  “Exactly. Where the hell do we get a dragon?”

  “No, not an actual dragon.” He rolled his eyes. “Dragon’s Breath is a pepper. We get the pepper, hair, clothes, then burn them…”

  Roxy stepped over to Ace. “And she breathes the smoke…”

  He nodded. “And bye-bye Krestel.”

  Raven threw her hands up. “Then what the hell are we doing here? Let’s go.”

  Fiona shook her head. “First, we still don’t know where she is, and second, the spell has to be done on the next full moon.”

  Everyone turned to Ace, who narrowed his steely eyes and said, “Four days. Four days until the next full moon.”

  The team looked around the room, each lingering a moment on each other until finally, Roxy broke the silence. “Okay then, we have four days until this nightmare is over and Krestel is gone from our lives forever.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, so, who’s going to—

  Harley interrupted. “I’ll get the peppers. My uncle is a farmer. If he doesn’t have them, he’ll know where to get them. Fast.”

  “Good.” Roxy frowned and began pacing again. “Now, for her hair and clothes…”

  Fiona set down her tea. “Once we figure out where she’s hiding, we lure her out with the spell and have everything ready. We’ll trap her, get the hair and clothes and light it all on fire.”

  Ace clenched his jaw and nodded. “I like it. Good plan.”

  “How are we going to find her? No one’s seen her since Dixie uncovered her true identity and she hightailed it into the mountains.” Harley raised her eyebrows at Fiona. “Except you.”

  “Exactly. We know she’s close, at least.”

  Scar leaned forward and rubbed her new dog, Sunny’s, massive head. Her braids tumbled down her shoulders. “I’ll go back to Mrs. Thorne. God knows she owes me after finding her daughter. Thorne will know where she is.”

  “Thorne,” Raven shook her head. “A witch in Krestel’s coven. Her seeing eye. You really think she’ll give up her location?”

  “She’s gone.” Ace said.

  “What?”

  “Skipped town with her daughter. Already checked, and confirmed with Zander.”

  Fiona blew out a breath and leaned back. The pain meds they’d given her were beginning to dull her headache, but the exhaustion was beginning to take over. Her head felt swimmy, her stomach queasy.

  Roxy stopped pacing, zeroed in on Fiona, and then addressed the team. “Fi’s had enough for the day. Let’s get her to bed and we’ll meet again this afternoon to lay out the plan about how to find Krestel and lure her out. Sound good?”

  Nods around the room.

  “Okay, then.” She turned to Fiona. “But real quick, about your former FBI buddy—

  “Joel Davis.”

  “Right, Joel. Like I said, Zander and the entire police department are there. They’re dealing with it. I want you to get that out of your head for now, okay? If I know you, your wheels are already spinning trying to figure it out, but Fi, you need to rest for a bit. You’ve been through a lot. We’ve got the whole day ahead of us, and I promise you I’ll be in touch with Zander.”

  “We’re sending his body to Graves for the autopsy, right?” She asked.

  “Yes, and you know they’re the best forensics lab in the country. Everyone’s working on it. For now, you need to focus on recharging your batteries. Now, let’s get you to bed. You need to rest.”

  Scar picked up her empty teacup. “I’ll make Fi some more tea and stay here. You all can go.”

  Fiona shook her head and pushed off the chair, her feet feeling like a thousand pinpricks when they hit the hardwood floor. “No way. You guys—each of you—have been up all night looking for me. You need sleep. Please. Go home.”

  “No way, Fi. I’m not leaving you.” Scar’s tone switched from motherly to I’m-not-having-it.

  “Look, Krestel doesn’t know I have the spell. She thinks I’m dead in the woods somewhere.” She glanced down the hallway. “If not, I’d love to show her the arsenal I’ve got in my room.”

  “Guns won’t kill her, Fi.”

  She heaved out a breath, limped past Ace and yanked open the front door. A gust of wind blew rain in. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Go home, get some rest and I’ll do the same. Go. Please. You guys need sleep.”

  At the defiant stares, she put her hands on her curvy hips and cocked her head. “Okay, if you won’t leave, I’m just going to head to the office and get some work done… God knows I’m behind on my cases.” When they didn’t fall for that, she said, “Listen, I won’t be able to sleep with all of your neurotic asses here, pacing a hole in the floor. Seriously, if you really want me to try to sleep, you’ll leave.”

  Roxy walked to the door. “Dammit, you’re stubborn.” She stared at Fiona for a solid five seconds. “Okay, we’ll go.” She turned to Ace, who tossed her a cell phone. “Here’s your new phone. Keep it close. Call me if you need anything at all. We’ll be back later to check on you.” She leaned forward and kissed Fiona’s forehead. “You’re stubborn but also strong. Love you, Sis.”

  She smiled. “Love you, too.”

  After group hugs and a kiss on the cheek from Ace with the promise she’d call at the slightest movement outside her house, she shut the door, closed her eyes and put the full weight of her back against it.

  Silence.

  She took a deep breath.

  Joel Davis.

  What the hell had he gotten himself into?

  She opened her eyes, her lips pursed in a tight line.

  The ladies of Black Rose might have a witch to kill, but Fiona had a murderer to find first.

  CHAPTER 3

  Thud, thud, thud.

  Fiona’s eyes shot open. A wave of confusion mixed with full-body pain swept over her. Blinking, she quickly sat up and looked around her bedroom. The light pitter-patter of rain drew her attention
to the window. A bluish-gray waning light glowed through the wooden slats of the shutters. Dawn? Or dusk? She looked at the clock—6:24 p.m.

  Holy crap, she’d slept all day.

  Thud, thud.

  Someone was at her door.

  A faint feeling of panic replaced the fuzziness as the memories of the last twenty-four hours flashed through her head. Or, lack thereof, at least. The Great Shadow Book of Secrets, the spell, the night alone in the woods, Joel Davis with a bullet through his head. It had been the scariest night of her life, and now, someone was paying her a visit.

  She yanked back the covers, grabbed her spare gun—the company-issued Glock 19 with a hot-pink handle and the letters BRI etched down the side—and swung her legs over the bed. She kept the light off. Pain shot through her legs as she stood. Scar had cleaned and bandaged the cuts on the bottom of her feet, but the swelling had caused an entirely new kind of pain. She felt like she was standing on balloons.

  She padded across the hardwood floors, paused at the bedroom doorway and peered around the corner. A large silhouette filled the small, beveled glass window at the top of the front door.

  She slid her finger over the trigger, crouched down and crab-walked down the hallway.

  Deep, muffled voices vibrated through the thick wood. She cocked her head, recognizing one of the voices—the agitated one.

  She quickly stood, hid the Glock behind her back and after unlocking three deadbolts, pulled open the door.

  The chatter stopped and two very male, very alpha, very pissed-off faces snapped toward her.

  Her stomach dropped to her feet.

  Directly in front of her stood her former FBI trainer, Special Agent Noah Fox, and directly behind him stood a super pissed-off Ace with his arms crossed over his chest. Her gaze darted back and forth between the two massive men standing on her front porch, trying to make sense of what the heck was going on. She settled on Noah, her stomach responding with another nose dive.

  She hadn’t seen him in years, a decade maybe, but age certainly had agreed with him. He appeared even taller than she remembered, in khaki pants and a light blue button-up under a navy sports coat that hid his sidearm and FBI badge. It also hid the cut—make that shredded—lean body of a man they called Scrapper, for his short temper and aggressive competitiveness. His shaggy, dark hair was just as thick, combed back with that sexy swoop above his cowlick. But now, it was streaked with gray which somehow made him even sexier. And his eyes, the dark, menacing eyes that had gripped her from the moment she met him, were paralyzing her now.