“I considered it. Since my main job is keeping her safe, I decided to wait for you.”
“That was the right thing to do.” Galen released me and forced a smile. “You’re okay?”
His overprotective nature was cute at times, but it was starting to grate. “I’m fine. It would be great if you didn’t freak out. We don’t know that it’s anything. It could’ve been a delivery guy or something.”
Galen shifted his eyes to a spot over his shoulder and met Booker’s gaze. The cupid was already prowling the exterior of the lighthouse. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” he said. “Come on.” He linked his fingers with mine. “Let’s see what we’ve got, shall we?”
Galen made a big show of pinning me to his side and not shoving me behind him as a protective measure. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was poised and ready should someone decide to strike. He kept me close as we circled the lighthouse, releasing me only when we were back at the front of the building and he and Booker were busy checking the ground for tread marks. For her part, Aurora offered up a series of bored expressions but held it together while eating warm bread dipped in garlic sauce.
After ten minutes, Booker gathered the food and Galen gestured for us to enter the lighthouse. The men had been quiet — except with each other — for a long period. They waited until we were inside to unleash what they were thinking.
“I didn’t smell anything,” Galen admitted. “That’s normal for me on this one, though. This incubus manages to hide its scent from me.”
“I smelled something faint,” Booker said. “I think that’s because it’s not a normal incubus.”
Oh, well, now we were finally getting somewhere. “What does that even mean? At first when the scent became an issue you guys said it was a cupid ... but not a normal cupid. Now it’s an incubus, but not a normal incubus. How does that work?”
Booker licked his lips and planted his hands on his hips as Aurora went to the cupboards to get dishes for lunch. “I don’t know how to explain it. I really don’t.”
“Maybe it’s not an incubus,” I offered. “Maybe it really is a cupid, but one who is different to the point of confusing you.”
“It has to be an incubus.” Galen sounded sure of himself as he grabbed a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator. “I’ve seen incubi before. I’ve destroyed them. This looked and acted just like an incubus.”
“And I look and act just like a normal girl at times,” I noted. “But I’m not a normal girl. I’m something special.”
“Yes, you are.” Galen’s grin was flirty as he swooped in and smacked a kiss against my lips. “You’re definitely something special.”
“Oh, gag me.” Booker shook his head. “Why am I being punished in this manner?”
“Leave them alone,” Aurora advised. She was obviously more interested in the food than anything else. “They’re giddy and goofy right now. It’s annoying but it won’t last forever. Besides, I think they’re kind of cute.”
I shot her a grateful look.
“But they turn my stomach, too,” she added, smirking. “It doesn’t matter. They’re in their own little world. We wouldn’t even see them if they weren’t being hunted by a mutant incubus.”
“Unless it’s not an incubus,” I added, my stomach growling when Aurora started pulling takeout containers from the bags. “That smells really good.”
“I’m glad you have an appetite.” Galen moved around me and grabbed a plate. “I got all of your favorites, including extra bread and Lebanese salads.”
“Good plan.”
“Who wants something to drink?” Booker asked, lifting the pitcher of iced tea. Everyone raised their hands and he began filling four glasses.
I filled a plate full of meat, rice and salad. I almost sat, but then remembered my drink and turned. That’s when I noticed the liquid Booker was pouring looked slightly different.
“What is that?” I moved closer to him, confused.
“What?” Booker appeared bewildered as he looked around. “Do you see something out of place?”
“Yeah. That.” I gestured toward the iced tea. “What did you do to it?”
“I didn’t do anything to it. I was about to drink it.”
“But ... it looks shimmery or something.” I was adamant there was something different about the iced tea. “That’s not how it normally looks.”
Confused, Galen moved to the spot behind me and snagged the pitcher from Booker so he could take a better look. He didn’t seem concerned with what he saw. “It looks the same to me, Hadley. Are you sure there’s something different about it?”
I was definitely sure. “It’s shinier than usual.”
“Shinier?” Galen’s eyebrows hopped. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“It’s shimmery.” I felt put upon. “It doesn’t look like it normally does. I’m telling you, there’s something off.”
Galen didn’t look convinced, but he lifted the pitcher again to study it and then shook his head. “Well, I guess we could have it tested.”
“What for?” Booker asked. “What do you expect to find?”
“Someone was outside the lighthouse,” he reminded Booker. “Maybe they made it inside and Hadley and Aurora simply didn’t see it.”
All traces of amusement fled from Booker’s features. “You think someone poisoned the iced tea?”
“I think Hadley has a feeling ... and I’ve learned to trust her feelings.”
“But I thought the incubus was trying to seduce her into going to him,” Aurora argued. “This doesn’t sound like the normal pattern for an incubus.”
“It doesn’t,” Galen agreed. “Not even a little. The thing is, the incubus broke with pattern last night when he flew Hadley up a wall and tossed her into the cemetery. He was obviously trying to kill her.”
“Yeah, how did he manage to fly?” I asked, thinking back to the incident. “I thought cupids couldn’t fly. If an incubus is a tainted cupid, doesn’t that mean he could fly as a cupid?”
“Let it go,” Booker snapped. “I want to know more about this iced tea. How soon can we get it tested?”
“Sooner than you might think. I know a guy.”
“Of course you do.”
THE GUY GALEN CLAIMED to know was a local chemist. He arrived at the lighthouse when we were still eating lunch — Booker insisted the food was fine because they brought it in from the outside — and he took the iced tea, removed several drops of liquid, plopped them in a beaker and then added liquid from a bag he carried before joining us at the table.
“It will take a few minutes,” he announced, helping himself to the food without being invited.
Galen lifted an eyebrow as he made introductions. “Hadley, this is Morgan Porter. He went to school with Booker and me ... and now he handles a number of odd jobs around the island.”
That was weird. What sort of odd jobs could a chemist do? I wanted to ask, but I figured it was rude so I swallowed the endless series of questions bubbling up. “It’s nice to meet you.” I flashed him a smile, which he returned even though he was intent on the shawarma.
“Is this from Mama Beale’s place?” he asked.
Galen nodded, seemingly amused. “Help yourself.”
I cast him a sidelong look, which he acknowledged by tweaking my nose and sliding his arm around my back. He sensed I was agitated waiting for the test results and this was his way of soothing me. “How long will it take?”
“Just a few minutes.” If Morgan realized we were antsy, he didn’t show it. “I’m starving. Your call came at the right time. I wanted to head to Lilac’s place for a bucket broil, but it’s full of cupids ... and you know how stupid cupids are.” He flicked his eyes to Booker. “Present company excepted, of course.”
“Oh, of course,” Booker drawled. “I don’t blame you. I hate them all, too.”
“Speaking of that, what’s the deal with your mother and Darlene?” I asked. I was stuffed from all the foo
d and wanted to wash it down with something to drink. The iced tea was out of the question for now. “They’re sisters and they hate each other. How does that work?”
“Oh, they make it work quite easily,” Booker replied. “They’ve hated each other since long before I was born. I don’t even remember interacting with my aunt in anything other than a cold manner. I was never to refer to her as ‘Aunt Darlene.’ My mother made that very clear. She also gave me a few colorful names to call her, but I managed to avoid those.”
“I just don’t get it,” I said. “If I had a sibling, I would totally want to spend time with him or her. I would want to be close ... and do things that brothers and sisters do.”
“What? Like give each other wedgies and rub their heads in your armpit?” Galen teased.
I pinned him with a dark look. “Not that ... and don’t be gross. I just meant that I was sometimes lonely as an only child. It would’ve been nice to have a sibling.”
“My mother says Darlene is dead to her. In fact, she’s worse than dead. My mother would gladly kill her if she thought she could get away with it.”
“That must make this election thing difficult,” I mused. “Do you think, if one of them wins, the other will finally take a step back and try to make friends?”
“No. Things will only get worse and the loser will try to figure out a way to kill the winner.”
That was a sobering thought. “You don’t seem broken up about that. I’m guessing you want your mother to lose so she’s not a target.”
“Oh, I want my mother to lose, but only because it might actually kill her,” he countered. “My mother would not be a good leader. She would be the worst possible leader. I mean ... if they had a line of terrible leaders, she would be right up there with the worst of the worst.”
He seemed sure of himself so I didn’t push him further. “Well, I guess we’ll have to wait and see. We’ll know in a few days, right?”
“Yup.” Galen’s hand was busy on the nape of my neck as he watched Morgan check his beaker. “What do you have?”
“Strychnine,” Morgan replied grimly.
My heart rolled. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I’m guessing you didn’t accidentally drop any pesticides in your tea?”
I felt sick to my stomach. “No.” I turned to Galen. “What does that mean?”
“It means we’re going to have to throw every item of food out to be sure.” He petted my head. “It also means you stopped all of us from drinking that tea, so you saved our lives.”
“Yeah. Good job.” Booker offered up a haphazard salute as he kept eating.
“It also means that whoever did this managed to get in the lighthouse even though we thought we had it locked up tight.” His expression reflected frustration. “I don’t know how he did it, but there’s a hole in our security ... and we need to find where it is.”
“And fast,” Booker added. “This guy is getting bolder. That can’t be good.”
On that we could readily agree.
25
Twenty-Five
Galen wasn’t comfortable leaving me at the lighthouse alone given what had happened. He also wasn’t thrilled with the idea of me spending the day in the ocean with Aurora, who was clearly getting antsy.
After lunch, he called two of his deputies and ordered them to dump every food item in the house — except for our Middle Eastern leftovers — and then took me with him and Booker to check several places they hadn’t yet gotten to on their incubus search. They made me stay in Galen’s truck but it was air-conditioned and I could stretch out in the back. He even stopped at the pharmacy long enough to buy trashy magazines so I wouldn’t be bored. He didn’t even give me crap about reading them.
Once they were finished, we headed to the grocery store. We needed everything new — that meant everything — and I was doing the math in my head for the groceries as the three of us moved through the store with two carts. I had money. I had a decent amount in savings. Since I hadn’t been working, though, nothing had been added and I’d been slowly making steady withdrawals.
“What do you really think about my idea to read fortunes?” I asked Galen as we stood in front of the dairy aisle and selected cheese. “I mean ... do you think I can make money at it?”
“Sure. There’s going to be a learning curve, but you’re good at everything you try as far as I can tell. I bet you’ll catch on quick and start pulling in money in two months or so.”
Two months seemed like a long time to me. “Maybe I should get a temporary job while I’m learning.” I glanced around the store, thoughtful. “Maybe they need a cashier or something.”
Slowly, very deliberately, he tracked his eyes to me. “You want to work here?”
“I don’t want to, but I think I should be pulling in some money.”
It was as if a lightbulb went off in his head. “You’re worried about paying for all of this.”
“No.” I immediately started shaking my head. “I have more than enough to cover this.”
“How much more?”
We’d never really talked about money, so it was an awkward question. “Plenty.”
“Uh-huh.” He grabbed several different types of cheese — sliced, string, shredded and block — and dumped them in the cart without looking at the prices. “You don’t have to worry about paying for this. I’m going to pay for this.”
I balked. “I don’t think that’s right. It’s my lighthouse, which means it’s my food.”
“And there’s no food at my place because I’m always at your place eating your stuff,” he pointed out. “I’m paying. I don’t want you worrying about this.”
”You can’t pay for my stuff.”
“Says who?”
“Says ... every feminist I’ve ever met.” I felt uncomfortable under his steady gaze. “I mean ... I love you, but it’s not your job to make sure I’m fed.”
“Actually, I believe that falls under the rules in the How to be the Best Boyfriend in the World Guide Book.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. I didn’t want to encourage him. “It’s still my responsibility.”
“I think it’s our responsibility,” he countered. “We spend every night together. We eat two meals a day — sometimes three — together. We spend every moment we can together. I want to help you.”
“But I don’t want to rely on you for everything.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not right. We’re not married or anything, so I should pay for my own groceries.”
“Would you be more comfortable if we were married?”
I wasn’t expecting the question and it threw me for a loop. “That wasn’t a proposal, was it? If so, you need to work on your delivery.”
He snorted. “That was not a proposal. I don’t think we’re there yet. That doesn’t mean we won’t get there.”
The fact that he could say that without being embarrassed warmed me all over. A lot of men — even some I’d dated — withheld emotion as part of some annoying power play. He wasn’t that way, and it was only one of the things I adored about him.
“That’s ... wow!” I couldn’t find the words to adequately describe what I was feeling. “That’s a pretty cool thing you just said,” I offered finally. “We’re not ready, though. You were right about that. That means you can’t buy all this stuff.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Galen was having none of it. “I know we haven’t talked much about money, but I’m well set.”
My eyebrows drew together. “You’re a sheriff. You pointed out at dinner the other night that you’re a lowly civil servant.”
“I shouldn’t have done that.” He was calm and I got the distinct impression he was choosing his words carefully because he was about to drop some big truth on me. “We actually don’t go to that restaurant more often because it’s so fancy and I don’t always enjoy dressing up after a long shift. I have money, Hadley. A lot of money.”
“Yo
u live in a regular apartment,” I noted. He’d finally taken me there a week ago when I wouldn’t stop squawking about it. The space was small, spartan and devoid of decorations for the most part. I figured that was the reason he always wanted to be at the lighthouse. “You don’t even have art on your walls.”
“I don’t,” he agreed. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have money. I’m just not much for decorating. I ... um ... well ... .” He trailed off, uncertainty dropping over his features like a dour curtain.
“What are you guys talking about?” Booker asked as he pushed his cart over to join us. “I got plenty of crackers and chips, by the way. You’ll never run out of snacks.”
“We’re talking about why Galen can’t buy all these groceries for me,” I replied. “He doesn’t have the money to foot the bill for everything.”
Instead of nodding in understanding, Booker snorted. “Are you serious? The dude is a millionaire thanks to his trust fund. I think he can swing a couple hundred bucks’ worth of groceries.”
I couldn’t have been more shocked if I’d been struck by lightning. “What?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Galen said hurriedly, murdering Booker with a dark look. “My money doesn’t come from my job. It comes from a trust fund my father set up for me when I was born. I’ve had access to it since I was twenty-five ... and there’s enough money in there that I’ll never want for anything. That means you won’t want for anything.”
I was flabbergasted. “But ... I don’t understand.”
“My family is old money. My parents are well-to-do. They made sure that I wouldn’t struggle even though I was determined to make my own way. I mostly live off my sheriff’s stipend. There are times I dip into the trust, usually when I want to buy a new vehicle.”
I had no idea what to make of this revelation. “You’re saying you’re rich.”
“I’m independently wealthy.”
I rubbed my cheek as I focused on the cheese case. “Shouldn’t I have known that?”
To Spell With It Page 23
