Psychic for Sale [Rent to Own]

by Amie Gibbons

  PSYCHIC FOR SALE

  (RENT TO OWN)

  A SDF PARANORMAL MYSTERY

  AMIE GIBBONS

  Copyright © 2017 by Amie Gibbons

  Cover design © 2017 Oleg Volk

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2017

  Gremlin Publishing

  Nashville, TN.

  https://authoramiegibbons.wordpress.com/

  For my kitteh

  Because he knows how to calm me down

  And when to let me spaz

  Contents

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  Chapter eleven

  Chapter twelve

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter fourteen

  Chapter fifteen

  Chapter sixteen

  Chapter seventeen

  Chapter eighteen

  Chapter nineteen

  Chapter twenty

  Chapter twenty-one

  Chapter one

  “Fae? Demons? Ghosts!” I asked, looking up from the binder of information I was supposed to have memorized for this weekend.

  Ha! I couldn’t memorize a phone number.

  So I was takin’ pics of every page to have them at the ready on my phone.

  I paused at the one in the middle stating the list of threats it was my job to look out for at the summit.

  The private plane Carvi had sent for us was snazzy. All soft brown leather seats, most of which reclined all the way for sleep on long flights, a giant squishy couch behind those, a super soft gold carpet, and a bar in the back.

  Grant and I had taken two seats up front with a table between them.

  Who knew what we’d see if we took a blacklight to that couch or any of the seats that reclined.

  “You think that’s bad?” Grant asked, looking up from his binder.

  He didn’t bother taking pics.

  Doesn’t need to.

  I’d kill for his memory.

  “Wait until you get to the part about terrorists and government,” Grant said, face hard as stone.

  I couldn’t blame him.

  He was down here to watch my back. I was down here because Carvi, the vampire king of Miami, was making me.

  About a month and a half ago, Carvi’s little brother, Milo, was up in Nashville for a summit Carvi was specifically not invited to. Milo died takin’ a silver bullet meant for me. In the vampire world, that meant I owed Milo’s next of kin, in this case Carvi, for the life lost.

  Since I was psychic, it meant I took over Milo’s job of looking for threats at big events like this. I owed Carvi five of these favors.

  Grant didn’t think I’d survive one without his help.

  He was probably right.

  So when Carvi called in his first marker for this weekend, specifically telling Quil, my boyfriend and high up in the vamp nest in Nashville, he wasn’t invited, Grant took that to mean it was his job to watch out for me.

  What was this weekend?

  Well, I wasn’t entirely sure.

  It was the first summit of the vampires in America to talk about bringing magic out into public, lettin’ humans know about all of it.

  As the world closed in and filled up, and especially with the invention of the internet, being able to hide in plain sight and change their identities every generation or so got harder and harder.

  But all the stuff he gave me made it sound like this weekend would be a continuous run of threats that it was my job to psychically detect.

  I was still pretty new to being a psychic. The odds of me being able to cast my mind out and see threats before they happened like Milo used to were kinda slim.

  “I don’t think I’m going to be able to do this, sir,” I said. “See threats and all that like Carvi wants me to.”

  Grant stared at me for a long moment and finally sighed, saying, “Yeah, I’m worried about that too.”

  My boss is a big bear of a man. Around six-one and all broad shoulders, strong arms and legs, and manly, square features. His brown hair had gotten a little longer than he usually wore it, enough to hold waves, and his iced green eyes were hard.

  The only thing “girly” about Grant are his lips. They’re these thick, cupid’s bow lips that just make you want to kiss them.

  Okay, maybe that’s just me.

  I’ve been in love with him since the night we met practically, and workin’ for him just made it worse. He’s seen me as a sort of little sister since we met, and made it clear more than once that’s all I’d ever be.

  He went back to his binder without saying more so I went back to mine, whispering, “Please, no Fae.”

  I’d never met one, except the fourth of a leprechaun we used to work with, but from what the vamps said about them, I didn’t want to meet them.

  Please God, no Fae.

  ###

  We landed at Miami International just past eight. The town car Carvi promised was waitin’ for us and we got to the hotel with plenty of time to get ready for the party. Carvi said we’d be stayin’ at one of his hotels for the weekend, and as his special guests, we’d get the nice suites.

  “Whoa,” I said as the bellhop opened the door to my room.

  Suite didn’t even begin to cover it.

  The front room was pure decadence. The thick couches were covered in gold cloth and the carpet was as thick as whipped cream and just as pure white.

  “I’m… ugh, not sure this is the right place,” I said.

  “I think it is,” the bellhop said. “Sir, your room is right next door.”

  “Thanks,” Grant said, handing him a bill. “I can go over there myself.”

  He turned to the door and the bellhop got the idea and left.

  “I don’t like this,” Grant said after the door was closed.

  “The fancy, the party or the whole weekend?” I asked.

  “All of it.”

  “Yeah, but…” I turned, wavin’ my arms around. “Look at this place!”

  The little kitchen had everything from a latte machine to a stove and dishes. The marble counters were gorgeous and threw the overhead light back up with beautiful splashes of sparkles.

  I walked into the bedroom.

  “Wow.”

  The canopy bed was so high there was a set of little stairs next to it like something out of a movie about old France. It was decorated in reds, blacks and gold and smelled vaguely like I’d expect a fancy brothel to smell.

  “No,” Grant said.

  I froze and turned. “Oh, come on! This place is awesome!”

  “Strings, Ryder. There are always strings. The nicer the setup, the harder the fall.”

  I made a face and he raised his eyebrows at me as he pulled out a bug detecting wand.

  He mouthed, “Keep talking.”

  “Come on, sir,” I said, tryin’ to remember my improv as he walked around the room. “This is just Carvi being hospitable. You know how vamps are. And he needs us, we’re down here as his guests. If anything happened to us, it’d look really bad for him.”

  Grant nodded towards the living room and I followed him out so he could run the wand over it.

  “Those are really pretty flowers,” I said, takin’ a deep breath. “And he put in eucalyptus plants
. Must’ve remembered I have asthma.”

  Grant froze by the coffee table and nodded at the plant there.

  Bugged.

  Crap.

  I met his eyes and shrugged.

  He pulled out his phone and texted something.

  I pulled out my phone just as it buzzed. “It’s just audio, we can work around it, don’t forget it’s here.”

  I texted back, “Any way to tell who put it there?”

  “Bridges is back tracing.”

  “So what do we do?”

  He shrugged. “Get ready.”

  ###

  I showered off the plane smell and put my hair up. I went a little heavier on my makeup than I usually would for a night event, followin’ the awesome gay guy on YouTube to make my eyes pop.

  I put on the beautiful gold ball gown I’d made for Homecoming my senior year at Vandy and never got to wear due to it clashing with the sudden onslaught of my psychic powers.

  The stiff bodice hugged my waist and squished up my boobs, and the little sleeves hung off my shoulders, there for looks and not much else. The full skirt spread out wide around me, held out by a stiff petticoat.

  It looked like Belle’s dress in Beauty and the Beast and I absolutely loved it.

  I put on black heels with thick bottoms and good arch support. They were heels made by professional dance shoe designers so they were better than normal heels for moving and even running.

  Supposedly.

  They also had no straps so I could kick them off easily if I had to.

  What did I think was gonna happen tonight?

  I really wasn’t sure.

  A knock on the door just as I was combing out my eyelashes made me jerk and I rushed to grab it.

  Wow didn’t cover it.

  Grant wore a tux with full on cummerbund, vest and bowtie, and had his short brown hair slicked back.

  James Bond had nothin’ on a gussied-up Grant.

  He stared at me, eyes widening in a way I’d never seen him look at me.

  I blushed.

  “Sir, you look amazing. You clean up nice!” I said.

  I stepped back from the door so he could walk in and he nodded.

  “You too, Ryder.”

  Wow, for Grant that was downright mushy.

  I smoothed down my skirt, blushing as I shook my head. I had a boyfriend back home and I already knew I’d spend this weekend fending off Carvi. I did not need to complicate things more by drumming up old fantasies about Grant.

  We’d moved past that.

  I was pretty sure.

  I held up my phone. “You know tellin’ a millennial she can’t take selfies in her gorgeous dress when her hair and makeup is all pretty is a violation of the Geneva Convention, right?”

  Grant gave me the patented Grant look.

  Like was trying not to head slap me.

  I grinned. “Carvi said he’d send someone or be here or something. I’m not sure how long we wait.”

  “Now.” Carvi appeared next to Grant and my boss took half a step back and had his gun out before he relaxed.

  “You can’t take that in with you,” Carvi said.

  I was too busy staring to process the words for a moment.

  Grant looked distinguished in a tux. Carvi looked… dangerous.

  And edible.

  His blue hair was also slicked back, and a darker tone than it was last time I’d seen him, and his full lips looked plump and red, almost like he’d gotten stung, or was wearing makeup.

  I wouldn’t put it past him, but honestly, he probably just got them that way by feeding.

  On who?

  A pang shot through me and I pinched the inside of my arm.

  A gesture Carvi obviously didn’t miss cuz he smiled at me, fangs sliding out.

  “And that’s why we’re bringin’ weapons,” I said.

  I’d just admitted I had one on me. Oh, stupid!

  “Lea, you look positively phenomenal,” Carvi said. “I wish I was wearing my blue suit so we could match.”

  Blue?

  Ohhhhh, the blue suit in Beauty and the Beast.

  “This really is a ball gown,” I said. “I know it looks like a costume. It just-”

  “I wasn’t making fun of you, lea,” Carvi said. “You look wonderful and the color and cut fit you. You are a vision.”

  He bowed.

  Grant looked between us. “Where is this party?”

  “No weapons, Westley,” Carvi said. “I really will have to insist.”

  He winked and jerked his head towards the coffee table.

  Ohhhhh, he knew it was bugged? But it wasn’t by him?

  Grant tucked his gun away, makin’ sure it was well outta sight and not printing.

  Mine was on my hip under the giant poufy skirt. Not the easiest to get to, but at least it wasn’t visible. I also had a small silver knife slid into the center of the bustier under the bodice.

  I have a friend who makes some seriously creative holsters for women.

  Grant’s gun was a baby Browning. I was surprised his finger could fit through the trigger guard, it was so tiny, and he had it tucked in a holster in the tux jacket’s pocket.

  I was willing to bet he had another on him and at least one silver knife.

  Carvi held the door open and we walked out.

  “Any in here?” Grant asked as we climbed into the limo.

  Grant and I took the long back seat and Carvi sat in the seat going up the side so he was facing us. The driver closed the door behind us and

  “No,” Carvi said.

  “Who?” Grant asked.

  Carvi looked at me. “Master of the monosyllable this one, huh?”

  “Yep. I’d answer him if I were you,” I said.

  “Of course you would.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him.

  What? I try to be mature and all, but I’m still human, and he was being a jerk.

  “I don’t know exactly,” Carvi said. “I have someone working on the back trace right now.”

  “So…” I cut off as Grant shot me a look.

  “Ohhhh,” Carvi said. “I see how it is. That’s not how this works, my fine specimen of man meat. We are in severe danger this weekend and we’re going to all need to be honest with each other.”

  “I can’t promise that,” Grant said.

  “You will have to,” Carvi said, smile still in place. “I can’t have you in there if I can’t trust you.”

  “Do you trust me, Carvi?” I asked.

  “Of course, my lea.”

  “I’m not your anything, let’s get that straight right now, but I can promise you I won’t be tryin’ to hide anything from you. We’ll share when we can. There’s just certain parts of investigations or ops we can’t share with outsiders.”

  “That’s my point, my little lea. We aren’t outsiders. This is my op, not the FBI’s. You work for me. You report to me. That, or no deal.”

  “What happens if it’s no deal?” I asked before Grant could say, “No deal.”

  “You know what happens if you don’t pay me back,” Carvi said. “I. Get. You.”

  I nodded. Yep, figured that was the exit clause.

  “No,” Grant said, hand by his pocket.

  “You won’t get that out before I can get to you,” Carvi said. “That was the deal and Ariana will honor it.”

  The ‘or else’ hung in the air like an acrobat and I giggled.

  “Sooooo, now that we have that settled,” I said, “I work for you, Grant’s my backup and here to make sure you don’t get me killed, and I want to know if there’s anything alcoholic in this limo. I need to juice up for visions tonight.”

  Alcohol helps me get visions. Not the best to be using performance enhancing drugs, but hey, in the field a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

  “I have just the thing.” Carvi reached over me, pushing his chest against my arm. He locked eyes with me as he opened the cabinet next to my seat and leaned over so his face
was inches from mine.

  “Stop. That. Now,” Grant said, breaking off each word like a chunk of ice.

  My breath snagged in my throat as Carvi leaned back, bottle in hand.

  “Would you mind grabbing the champagne glasses in there?” Carvi asked, holding up the bottle.

  I licked my lips and nodded, turning to grab them.

  Heat rushed through me and I froze, groin seizin’ up so fast it had to be magic.

  “I could mount you right now,” Carvi whispered through my mind. “I could grab hold of Grant and put him beneath you…” He paused. “No, you don’t want him under you. You like it on the bottom. You want him on top, riding you. I could make that happen. He’s attracted to you. Won’t let himself go there because you’re so young, but all it’d take is a push.”

  My hands shook as I grabbed three glasses, making them clink together.

  A picture of Grant on top of me flashed through my mind, my skirt pulled up, Grant shoving into me, takin’ me on the seat as Carvi watched.

  “Stop it!” I screamed, pressing the cool crystal to my head, slammin’ them together so hard I was surprised they didn’t break.

  Grant had his gun out and on Carvi so fast I didn’t see him move.

  “Cut it out,” Grant ordered.

  “I could-”

  “No, you couldn’t stop me before I shot. You’d be too busy talking,” Grant said. “Don’t pull that again.”

  I put the glasses on the little table in between the two sets of seats.

  “So, ugh, champagne?” I said, hands still shaking.

  “Ryder, alcohol?” Grant said.

  “I’m gonna need it if I’m gonna be wandering around, gettin’ visions all night, sir.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  Carvi smirked. “You ask him to let you have desert too?”

  “Only if it affects the case,” I said. “You gonna pour that or just keep fondling it?”

  “Give me something else to fondle.”

  “No,” Grant and I said together.

  Carvi popped the cork, tossing me a wink and I made a face at him.

  For a two thousand something years old vamp mixed with other mystical stuff, he sure was immature…

  But only when he wanted to be.

  Puttin’ on an act for us tonight? But why?