by Luna Joya
“I’m going down to check it out. Let Marilyn know when she comes through.” He raced for the entrance.
She rushed after him.
“Stay here.” He told her, raising a hand. “I’ll be right back. I promise.” Before she could argue, he was gone. Cami dashed back to the table for the key to the locker with her phone, grabbing the articles Sam had copied along the way. She shoved those under her arm and ran for the lockers at the top of the stairs.
She fumbled with the lock, but her hand shook so badly she dropped the key twice. When the locker finally opened, she snagged their things from inside. The amulet on her necklace flared.
“Sam?”
The lights in the library suddenly cut out, leaving her in complete darkness. Cami froze. A wake-the-dead shriek tore through the room, interrupted by a mechanical voice announcing “fire” and urging all occupants to please move to the nearest exit. A bright strobe flashed.
She could hear glass breaking downstairs. Her warning charm pulsed heat in a steady rhythm eerily in time with the flashing red lights.
“Sam?” Her voice echoed back.
A rush of footsteps from behind had her spinning to face her attacker. Wishing for a weapon or at least better lighting to run, she shifted the papers and phones to one hand so she could grip the keys in the other. She’d raised a jagged edge when Marilyn strode around the corner, a beaming flashlight in one hand and a small fire extinguisher in the other.
“Where’s Sam?” The woman never missed a step.
“Downstairs.” Cami ran beside her.
“Of course he is,” Marilyn muttered under the piercing alarm.
They hurried down. Cami breathed a sigh of relief when Sam sprinted up the steps, scaling two at a time. He grabbed the fire extinguisher before running back down. They caught up to him as he pulled the pin on the extinguisher, aimed it at the burning contents of a tall, metal trashcan, and shot a steady stream into the flames.
Cami scanned the rest of the lobby under the glare of the strobe light. It was empty. She’d expected as much when her charm cooled. The back door stood open. Someone had vandalized the elegant room, shattering a glass display and throwing garbage on the floor, the shelves, even the walls.
Marilyn whipped out a cell phone, and her fingers flew over the screen. The deafening alarm stopped, leaving only the rhythmic blinding flash that gave the room the look of a garish night club or, worse, a horror movie.
Sam lowered the extinguisher nozzle and waved away the fumes. “You two okay?”
Cami opened her mouth to answer, but her throat went dry with the acrid taste.
“What did you see?” Marilyn was all business.
Sam dropped the extinguisher to his side. “Whoever it was must’ve heard me coming. By the time I got down here, they took off. I didn’t chase after because, you know, fire.” He ran a hand down Cami’s arm, seeming to need the contact as much as she did.
“Police and the fire department are on their way.” Marilyn toed a strewn ream of paper with her pump. “Sorry, you guys will be stuck here a while longer.”
After Cami and Sam gave separate statements, the police released them to leave. They headed to the parking garage where they’d left his truck, Sam wrapped his strong hand around hers. His hold brought comfort. More distracting, a spark thrummed beneath the strength, an unspoken awareness with the silent question of what comes next even beneath the drama of the night.
“Some first date.” Sam squeezed her hand. “I mean the kiss was awesome, but it certainly didn’t end the way I’d hoped.” He glanced her way, and a curl fell in his face. Part of her wanted to mess it again when he thrust it back into the tangle. “I’m guessing you won’t be interested in a second.”
She reached the fingers of her free hand to brush ash and powder from his dark hair. “Why wouldn’t I be interested in a second?”
He flashed an incredulous grin. “Between my dog almost getting poisoned and tonight’s excitement, I’ve got to have the worst streak of bad luck when I come around you.”
She frowned, thinking of the way her charm had flared the first day she’d met him, only hours after she’d been at the restaurant and before he brought Bogart into the clinic. Then again, it’d signaled danger tonight. Maybe Sam wasn’t the one with bad luck. Maybe it was her.
He must’ve read her pinched brows to mean she’d agreed with his theory. He dropped his hold on her hand, and the cool night air chilled her palm where his skin had been seconds before.
She fought the urge to reach for him again. “A second date, huh?”
His sure step slowed. “Yeah.”
“With more kissing?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up in invitation. She wanted to nip the edge and see how the amused half-grin tasted.
“Definitely more kissing.” He brushed his lips over hers.
“Deal.” She bumped into his body, hoping to come off more playful than awkward. She didn’t have much experience with flirting. She’d been too serious about her studies at school and her magic at home. In college, Neil had pressed her for a date and then a relationship until she found she hadn’t said yes to any of it, but she hadn’t openly refused either.
She glanced over her shoulder. She hadn’t seen Neil since their last fight in a town hours north of here. He’d probably moved on to another naïve, vulnerable woman to push and grab, hard enough to leave tenderness and pain but not noticeable bruises. She touched the detection charm on her necklace. At least it’d stopped throbbing.
Who’d been in the library tonight? Teens pulling a prank or someone more threatening? Whoever it’d been, the permanent damage would’ve been worse than smoke and soot rings on the ceiling if Sam hadn’t acted so quickly.
“You all right?” Sam’s voice cut into her spinning thoughts. “You’re checking behind you, scanning the streets. Tonight’s got you rattled, huh?”
She nodded, not wanting to talk about Neil. She cringed inwardly. She certainly didn’t want to remember how she’d weaponized her elemental call against him. Tonight, she’d been too paralyzed by the memory to consider calling on her powers to protect them.
Her history needed to stay history. And Sam? He didn’t even seem to know his own.
“Could you have an uncle you’ve never met?” She snapped her mouth shut as soon as she’d asked the question. It wasn’t her business. Not really.
To her surprise, he shrugged. In Cami’s life, family meant everything. She couldn’t imagine not knowing about a relative as close as an uncle. She stared up at him, watching his face drift into and out of the light between streetlamps they passed.
“It’s possible.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t talk much to my parents. My dad only ever wanted a girl for whatever reason. He tolerated Joe. And I think I reminded my mom of someone she didn’t like. They packed me off to a boarding school when I was nine. I caused some trouble. By the time I turned thirteen, they were done with me. I got sent to live with Pops, my grandpa who owned Corraza’s.”
“What do you mean trouble?”
He flashed a devilish grin, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “I got into a lot of fights, and I was really good at stealing stuff. Not because I needed it, but because I could. I did it constantly, and never got caught until I wrecked the headmaster’s Porsche. The school sent me home. I boosted my dad’s Ferrari. They kicked me out. Pops took me in.”
Suddenly Marilyn’s comments made sense. Sam’s parents had abandoned him after shuffling him out of their house as a kid. They’d denied him his own home, his immediate family. No wonder he hadn’t wanted her to look in his brother’s biographical file.
On the drive to her apartment, they discussed theories on Sunny Sol and further research ideas. Sam promised he’d email Marilyn for her list of recommendations, since they’d left without it.
“Thanks for getting us access to the library.” He had gone out of his way to plan a first date based upon something of interest to her, and she
appreciated it. “The files and sources will be helpful. I wish we could get something more personal, something that mattered to her. Like the witnesses and evidence my sister has access to in an investigation.” Delia possessed psychometric powers to go beyond evidence and crime scenes, except she refused to use magic unless necessary. “It’d have taken me months to find all this information.”
Stopped at a red light, Sam raised an uplifted palm. “Almost a century has gone by. The witnesses to her life would either be elderly or dead. Memories fade.” He tapped the steering wheel. “But there might be something more out there. Let me think on it.”
She waved his offer away. “You’ve already done so much.” She tugged on the necklace where it lay cool against her skin.
“Call it self-interest.” He smoothly shifted the Land Cruiser into motion. “I want to see you again. Maybe we could go surfing. Or let me take you out. Whatever you want.”
Cami hadn’t been on many dates, and she hadn’t left her apartment for much other than work or family. “Another dinner together would be nice.”
He laughed. “I think I can manage that. You forget to eat with work and all, don’t you?”
What an understatement that was. She existed on cold cereal, microwave dinners, and handouts from Ama whenever she was lucky enough to score some. “Yeah. Even on nights off, I usually grab one meal a day.”
He turned onto her street. “How about you come to the restaurant when you get a full twenty-four hours off. You can camp out in my office to study or sleep. I’ll feed you. I’ll bring Bogart. He’s a champion napper.”
“Can’t say no to an offer like that.” She smiled. Being with Sam would be easy and fun if they could have a simple drama-free date. She liked how he could be straightforward yet laidback. At that, she sobered. A kind, good-looking, successful guy like Sam could be easy to like. She’d have to be careful with her heart.
He parked at the curb and gestured for her to stay put while he came around to her side. She watched him walk to her door, appreciating the same swagger she’d been drawn to at his restaurant. Sam Corraza had a great walk. She could record that walk and watch it again and again. She fought a contented sigh as he opened the door.
Helping her step out of the truck, he leaned over her. “Call me if you want to meet up at the beach in the morning. Or anytime.” He tipped his face closer to hers. “And for anything.”
Oh yeah, she’d definitely need to put a heavy padlock on her heart before it floated away and followed Sam home.
He tightened his hold on her waist. Brushing his lips over hers, he teased her before deepening the kiss. He pulled away and grinned when she followed.
Right. End of the date. She wasn’t comfortable inviting him up no matter how many times her younger sister reassured her it was totally fine to get laid on the first date these days. Old-fashioned or not, Cami wasn’t a first date all-the-way kind of girl.
After kissing him once more with a sweet light touch, she slowly forced herself toward the door. She glanced back to where he stood, watching every step she took. She touched her lips where she still could taste him. Dashing up the stairs to her apartment, she didn’t mind the creaking treads with the excitement and buzz of first kisses. She couldn’t wait for the next.
Chapter Eight
Driving up the PCH before dawn, Sam wished for a third normal date with Cami without possibly poisoned dogs, fire alarms, or police questioning. He’d managed two drama-free dates in the twelve days since they’d first met.
The one evening she’d had a single shift off from her residency, she’d biked along the ocean path the four miles from her place to his restaurant. She’d gotten there around dusk and waited for him in the office with her laptop and food he brought up. He’d rushed through closing routines and cleanup with the mental image of tight yoga pants, the pink Converse sneakers, and the stubby ponytail he couldn’t wait to tug out so he could tangle his fingers in those curls.
He’d taken her to watch the bonfires on the beach before they made out in his truck, fogging the windows. He hadn’t wanted to rush. She’d mentioned taking things slowly. Something about getting in over her head in a past relationship. If he hadn’t had a predawn delivery to meet at the restaurant the next morning, he’d have gone down on his knees to have her reconsider. Her golden eyes and sweetness reduced him to longings and nerves he hadn’t experienced since his teens.
Another morning, he caught her getting off her shift at the animal clinic. Her face had lit up when she’d come out to find him propped against the Land Cruiser with a healthy, happy Bogart at his feet. Sam had shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing her. Not that it’d done any good.
She’d bounded out of the back door of the vet’s office with tired eyes and smelly scrubs to wrap her arms around his neck. He’d loaded her bike into the truck and headed to Ocean Avenue for a tailgate picnic of leftovers. On the bluff above the beach, they’d talked about work, her family, and Sunny Sol before he’d gone into the restaurant and she’d headed to bed for the day.
This morning, he’d picked her up in front of her apartment building for an early morning date before he started work. He’d promised her a drive up to the building where Sunny Sol’s restaurant had been before taking her to camp out in his office. When she climbed into the truck, she’d had the lines she got between her brows when she worried.
Before he could ask what was wrong, Bogart scooted between the front two seats to dominate her attention. Sam grabbed a flannel jacket from the back for her and cranked up the heater. The jacket fell past her thighs to cover the dress she’d worn over cropped tights. She slipped out of her sandals to prop polished toes on his dashboard. She hummed along to the radio, occasionally shared new trivia she’d learned about Sunny Sol’s life, and stroked Bogart’s head for the few miles along the coast.
He parked across the street from the old restaurant site. The place stood empty and under construction, having been sold a few months ago. The windows were covered in particle board, and a large gate stood propped open in front of the entrance. Maybe the building should’ve been eerie given Sol’s death up the hill from her business, but it only struck him as a sad shell with a vibrant history of happy diners and bustling kitchens much like his own restaurant.
He opened the door for Cami. The sand spilled over the road in places, and the sound of the waves slapping the shore drew him in. The surf wasn’t high enough to tempt him this morning. Plus it’d rained hard last night. While the water might be cleaner this far north, he couldn’t risk exposing Cami to the cesspool of drainage and runoff.
An arched pedestrian bridge spanned the highway. When his headlights swept across the steps, he’d spied the flash of glass or broken mirror and told Cami. He’d forgotten all about it as he helped her from the truck, distracted by her, but she hadn’t.
She leaned into the back window. “Bogie, you can’t go this time. Wait here for us, please?”
To Sam’s amazement, his stubborn, un-trainable, “I do what I want” dog lay down and put his head on his paws as if agreeing with her. She pulled his favorite toy from the bag Sam had packed. “Pink pig? Really? This one?” Bogart’s tail thumped when she eased the pig against him.
She lifted a hand. “Stay. We will be right back.”
Sam chuckled. “I’ve taken him to classes, private training, you name it. Bogart’s the most obstinate dog ever. How do you get him to listen? Magic?”
She didn’t meet his eyes. Bogart bumped against her.
“My dog’s as crazy about you as I am.” He reached for her hand. “Back off, Bogie. She’s mine for now.”
He pulled her to the split in the sidewalk. Go right, and they’d be on the beach headed toward the waves. Go left, and they’d cross over to Sunny’s restaurant. The garage where the actress had been found dead was up the hill from there with Paul Price’s mansion even farther up the bluff. He looked down at Cami, her curls whipping in the wind. “Choose.”
&nbs
p; She walked toward the stairs. The grey tones of the breaking morning light cast a ghostly pallor over the pale concrete arch and abandoned restaurant building beyond. Sam had a sudden inclination to yank her back to the truck, but he resisted the stupid urge.
A gust of cool morning air, the precursor to the June gloom of SoCal, cut through the wire grating surrounding the overpass. Cami huddled in the flannel and clutched it tight. She looked good in his jacket. He slung an arm around her shoulders and held her close. It’d warm her, and he couldn’t help but touch her.
He curled close to her ear to be heard above the whistle of the wind. “If you’re up for a trek, we can climb the hill to the garage first this morning. The construction crews should be here in half an hour or so. The foreman is a regular at my restaurant. He’s agreed to let us take a look around.” Sam had at least an hour before he needed to be at Corraza’s. Plenty of time to loop the site.
“Thanks, Sam.”
Her soft smile made it worth the effort.
She pointed to the side of the building. “I’ve studied old photographs. Her apartment door would’ve been there with steps leading up. They added this retaining wall later. The old pedestrian bridge would’ve led straight to the restaurant.”
They crossed to the east side of the highway, winding to the street level. Together, they walked before the empty structure where Sunny Sol’s Seabreeze Café had stood. Its richly embellished entrance remained beneath the three-story hexagon-shaped center, and seven arches spanned farther in the two-story wing. Hazy light spilled through the windows. Security lights, Sam would guess since the sun wouldn’t crest the bluffs behind the restaurant for another hour.
Cami led the charge up the side of the hill. “Sunny’s maid told the grand jury she climbed over a hundred and fifty stairs straight up from the café to get to the garage’s level. Then it was over a hundred and twenty more up an angle to Paul Price and Coral Elton’s mansion.” Cami swept a hand in the direction the staircase would’ve originally been. Her breath came in shorter puffs as they crested the top.
