The yelling got louder as I approached the two of them, and it didn’t make me feel any better about having to talk to them without my hot angels as a buffer. They always made everything just a bit more bearable.
“I do not care about your bitching!” Jean Claude waved Kesha off in a high-pitched French accent. The accent was so over the top that I had doubts that it was real. “I am not... how do you say... your whipping boy.”
“Fuck off, you over-powdered pretty boy.” Kesha shoved her long nails into Jean Claude’s chest. “I’m not going to sit here and let you—”
“Excuse me.” I tried to interrupt which earned me a collective ‘what?’ when both heads swiveled in my direction. “Hi, I’m Jane. Andre has been letting me poke around.” I shifted in place, putting a hand on my hip and trying to look cool and confident. Under their tight scrutiny I was anything but.
“Well, poke around elsewhere. I’m busy.” Kesha waved me off, flipped Jean Claude off, then gave me her back.
“If you’ll just give me a second to ask a few questions—” I called after the fiery redhead.
“Do not bother with her.” Jean Claude barked a laugh as he took my hand in his hand. He brushed his lips against the back of my hand, and I cringed. “She is a frigid bitch.”
Jerking my hand away from him, I didn’t bother hiding my disgust as I rubbed my hand on my pants. “Yeah. Okay. I still need to talk to her. And you... unfortunately. Where were you this weekend?”
“Why?” Kesha snapped as she turned back to me.
Crap. I hadn’t thought of a reason to ask for their alibis. Quick, Jane. Think of something.
“Andre wants to be sure no one is talking to the press about the contest yet.” I tried not to sag as I spit out my excuse.
Kesha shook her head with a snort. “Whatever. The bossman is a real piece of work. Too tightly wound if you know what I mean.” She quirked a brow as her lips curled up at the edges. I got her meaning.
“So?” I urged on.
“I was at my shop. Ask my half a dozen assistant and designers.” She waved her hand around the area. “Most of us are working our asses off to be here. We’re not playing at winning.”
“And you?” I glanced to the French douchebag. “Were you working?”
Jean Claude threw his head back and laughed, flipping his hair over his shoulder. “No, you Americans are all work and no play. Jean Claude was at the Blessed Falls Spa and Resort. Call them. They will tell you.” He wiggled his fingers at me like I was supposed to hop to it.
“Uh, okay. Thanks. Can you point me in the direction of the others...?” I trailed off, looking around for someone else that might be a contestant.
Jean Claude made an annoyed sound. “Eh... Marsha is probably up Andre’s backside. So, I’d check there. And Antoine...?” He looked toward Kesha, who only seemed mildly interested any more. “Probably out back fucking the help.” They both laughed at that.
Trying to hide how disgusted I felt, I left the two of them to find my next target.
Thankfully, I found Marsha exactly where they said she’d be... with Andre.
The only way I could describe Marsha was doll-like. She wore a bright teal dress and black-rimmed glasses. Her dirty blonde hair fell down her back in curls, and she had a giggle that reminded me of bells. I wondered if she practiced it in the mirror.
“Oh, Andre,” she cooed as she placed a hand on his arm. “You are too funny.”
Andre brushed her compliment aside and pointed toward the office. “I’ve got to head back in. Let me know if you have any more trouble.”
When Andre saw me approaching, he paused his escape and offered me a small smile and a wave. I waved back, my smile a bit forced. Marsha turned around to look at who Andre was waving to.
“Hello, Marsha. I’m Jane.” I offered her my hand, and she took it reluctantly. “I’m just checking in with all the designers to make sure we’re keeping things close to the chest about the competition.” She cocked her head to the side, her brows furrowed. Great. A dumb one. “I need to know where you were this weekend. For security reasons.”
This got a reaction. Marsha’s face turned beet red, and a hand went to her face in surprise. “Why would you need to know that?” she stuttered, really playing up the innocence act.
I tried to calm her fears. “We just want to be sure no one is leaking anyone else’s work to the press. So...?”
Marsha ducked her head and then muttered something I didn’t catch.
“What was that?” I angled my head toward her and put my hand behind my ear. “I didn’t quite hear you.”
She leaned forward and murmured, “I was with my master all weekend.”
My face scrunched in confusion. “Your master?”
Marsha shifted from one foot to the other and got even more embarrassed. “You know... my master,” she repeated in an effort to get me to understand what she was saying, and I still wasn’t getting it.
“You mean like your boss?”
With a huff and a stomp of her foot, she pulled out her phone and typed something in. Then she shoved it in my face. The site she brought up was a BDSM website showing women and men in compromising positions, some of them bound and others kneeling. All of them looked more than happy to be there.
“Oh. Oh.” I gaped at the page and then felt my own face flush. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll write that... you were busy.” That got a relieved expression from her.
“That would be appreciated.” Marsha nodded and then looked around. “Can I go?”
“Yeah. Go ahead.” Geez. Some strange characters they had here, and there were still more on my list.
Chapter 15
FINDING TONY WAS TRICKIER than the others. I searched around the arena for someone who would look like a Tony but to no avail. Then I remembered Jean Claude had mentioned Tony would be out back, hopefully not screwing someone.
Out by the loading docks still packed with delivery trucks, I continued my search. I found Patrice before I found Tony. The small assistant stood bent at the waist, breathing into a paper bag.
“Patrice?” I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”
Startled by my gentle touch, Patrice jerked away from me as the bag fell from her mouth. “Uh, Jane, right?”
“Yeah.” I offered her a small smile, then gestured to the bag. “Hard day?”
Patrice scoffed. “You could say that. I love assisting Andre but these designers...” She shook her head and frowned. “They’re—”
I watched her struggle for the word, but I think she was just too polite to say what was really on her mind, so I helped her out. “Big pains in the ass.”
She let out a hard laugh. “Yeah. The biggest.”
“You know,” I mused, “I don’t know if I could offer you the same pay as Andre, but if you ever need another job, I could always use an assistant.”
“Oh?” Patrice arched a brow.
I pulled my card out and handed it to her.
“Gotcha! Psychic Detective Agency?” Her brows scrunched together behind her large rimmed glasses. “But I thought you were interested in the fashion industry?”
I chuckled. “You’re smarter than that Patrice.” I gestured at our clothes. “You dress better than me.”
“You did seem a bit out of place.” Patrice grinned and tucked the card into her planner on the floor. “So does Andre know you’re...?” She waved a hand at me.
“Psychic? Yeah, he hired me, but don’t tell him that.” I winked and held a finger up. “It’s a secret.”
“For the missing trophy, right?”
I pulled back, surprise clearly on my face. “How did you know about that? Andre said he’d kept it hush-hush.”
Patrice smirked and adjusted her glasses as she picked up her things. “Andre couldn’t tie his own shoe without me, and like you said, I’m smarter than that.” I gave her a curious but impressed look. “I knew something was going on the moment he wouldn’t let anyone else into the
office. He even kept Marsha... anyway, have you found it yet?”
I had a feeling she wanted to say more about Marsha, the doll-like designer who couldn’t stay away from Andre. I wondered if she actually liked the sexy billionaire or if she was hoping to get in good with the boss?
Shaking my head, I sighed. “No, not yet. You don’t have any clues, do you?”
Patrice tapped her chin and then shook her head. “I wish I could say I knew. Have you tried talking to the designers?”
“Just did, well, except for those who dropped out.” I paused and looked around. “And Tony who I can’t seem to find.”
“Oh.” Patrice’s eyes lit up. “He’s talking up the delivery gal.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder with an eye roll.
“And by talking up, you mean...?” I trailed off and did a hip thrust which made Patrice giggle.
“Yeah, exactly. So be warned. You may get scarred for life.” She grinned, and we shared another laugh.
“Thanks, and don’t forget to hit me up.” I pointed at her planner where she’d put my card. “Being a detective is so much more fun than...” I waved a hand around. “... this.”
Patrice smiled and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
With a goodbye wave, I headed toward the truck she said Tony was at with a bit more pep in my step... until the truck started to shift back and forward. My steps slowed as my ears caught the distinct sounds of someone having a far too good of a time on the clock.
Knowing I was stupid for even doing it, I rounded the corner and found my missing designer balls deep inside a cut brunette. He had her pressed up against the side of the truck, her face smashed against the metal siding. She wasn’t complaining though, not with the way she was moaning and jerking her hips back toward him.
Rather than interrupt them, I backed away, spun on my heel, and almost ran right through an incorporeal Michael. “Woah, sneak up on a girl, why don’t you?”
Michael didn’t laugh or show any indication that he had heard me. In fact, at closer inspection, he hardly seemed there at all. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes filled with an intense emotion I’d never seen before.
“What’s wrong?”
Michael wouldn’t look at me, that emotion on his face becoming darker by the second. I tried to grab him and then cursed when my hands went through him. Sometimes I hated this, not being able to touch them. With a sigh of frustration, I pulled my pin from my shirt and winced as I pricked my finger. That was getting old too.
“Here.” I held my finger up to him, but he didn’t even glance at it. “Michael, take the damn blood already.”
His pale blue eyes jerked to me finally. They locked onto mine, and for a moment, I thought he didn’t see me. Then his eyes shifted to the blood. He pressed his mouth to my finger, only touching me long enough to take the blood. Once he was corporeal, I clamped my hands on the side of his face and pulled him down to my level.
“There’s my guy,” I murmured, pressing my forehead against the warmth of his brow. I brushed our noses together and then kissed him softly. Michael let me do all of this almost mechanically, never stopping me but not encouraging me either. When I pulled back, I searched his gaze. “What’s wrong?”
Michael placed his hand on top of mine and shook his head. “I’m fine. Do not worry for me.”
I scoffed. “Of course, I worry for you. For all of you.”
“It’s Heavenly business. It is none of your concern.”
I pulled back from him, getting pissed off. “None of my concern?” I laughed bitterly. “Everything to do with you and Heaven became my concern when you wouldn’t leave me alone, so don’t think that you can ice me out now because I’m a lowly human.”
“Jane?” Michael tried to reach for me, but I pulled away.
“No!” I raised my voice as I shook my head. “You know, you think you’re invincible, but you wouldn’t be so worried about Uriel if you didn’t think you could get hurt. So, excuse me for giving a damn.”
Michael let out a frustrated growl. “But you shouldn’t feel that way about us. That’s what has caused this whole problem because we all got too involved. We forgot what we are.” His voice lowered as he moved closer to me. “Because we became so consumed by you.”
I let him take my hands and draw me closer, and I tried to push down my emotions to meet his gaze. “Are you leaving me?”
Instead of answering, he moved away and looked around. “How is the case going? Have you found the culprit?”
Frowning, I started to ask him why he was deflecting but decided against it. “Not yet. I’m working on it.”
Michael was quiet for a moment and then, out of the blue, he said, “Let’s go get some ice cream.”
Not sure where the sudden urge for frozen sugar came from, but I wasn’t going to argue. Today was just one of those days. I was still holding out hopes that he would talk to me. Tell me what was really going on, for once.
We got in my car and drove to my favorite frozen yogurt place.
Okay, so it wasn’t ice cream, but it was near the same thing. The Tasty Orange was one of my favorite places in town. When I was upset, it was the place I went to. The screaming orange and white decorations, the vinyl seats, and the strong scent of sweets filled the air.
“Why don’t you find us a seat?” I nodded toward the booths lining the walls. “I’ll grab us something to eat.”
Michael glanced at the yogurt dispensers and then to the condiments. “I think I would like to try it myself.” He moved toward the dispensers, walking slowly down the aisle as he read each flavor.
Curious to see how he would handle it, I grabbed us a couple of bowls and handed him one. “Here. Put it in this.”
Michael tilted his head toward me and took the bowl. Then he moved to one of the dispensers, put his bowl beneath it, and pulled the handle.
“Apple pie, bold choice.” I moved up next to him, my lips tilting up at the edges. “I’m more into the classics, to be honest.” Putting my cup underneath the dispenser for vanilla, I filled my bowl with a generous amount before moving to the strawberry one.
“I’ve always wanted to know what it tastes like,” Michael said, staring down at the bowl in his hand.
I snorted. “Well, I can tell you.” I dipped my spoon into his bowl and popped a spoonful into my mouth. “It’s never as good as the real thing.” I hummed and then moved back to filling my bowl up. “Now, real apple pie is warm and gooey on the inside, the crust is just the right amount of crumbly. Oh! And with vanilla ice cream on top.” I winked and grinned at him before moving to the condiments.
“And which of these should I add?” Michael asked.
I clucked my tongue and scanned the toppings. What would go best with apple pie? “Fruits, obviously.” I pointed at the chopped-up strawberries and cherries, watching as Michael scooped large spoonfuls into his bowl. “And if you want to get really daring you could mix it up and go with something more contrasting. Like gummies.” I stuck my fingers into the container and popped one of the gummie worms into my mouth.
“Ma’am, stop eating before you pay,” the teenage girl behind the counter snapped at me and then saw Michael. Her mouth fell open a bit, and if it were a cartoon, her tongue would have unraveled onto the floor, and her heart would have beat out of her chest.
“Sorry.” I grinned, turned to Michael, and asked, “So, what’s it going to be?”
Those gorgeous blue eyes scanned the counter, his lips pressed tightly into a firm line. He made every decision so seriously, with such calculation. It made the fact that he even got involved with me in the first place so surprising.
After a moment or so, he reached for the chocolate chips and then the strawberries. Lastly, he topped it off with some gummie bears.
I smirked. “Go big or go home, I always say.”
He didn’t smile back but brought his bowl over to the cashier with me. I gestured for him to place it on the scale and then paid the cashier w
hen she was done weighing both of our yogurt concoctions.
“Thanks.” I took my debit card back, smiling at how starstruck the teenager was. If it had been an old lady, she’d still ogle Michael. He was just that attractive. Well, it wasn’t really the looks that made people gape. It was the ethereal otherworldliness about him that had people stopping and staring.
We took a seat in one of the near booths. After we sat across from each other, I took a small bite of my yogurt as I watched him. He scooped a spoonful and brought it to his mouth. Parting his lips, he slid the spoon into his mouth.
My lips ticked up at the edges. “Good?”
His brows furrowed, and then as he moved the yogurt around in his mouth, those brows lifted. “Yes. It is an interesting flavor. Sweet and yet...” His jaws worked the mouthful. “Chewy.”
I giggled. “That’s the gummies. Maybe next time you could pick something simpler.”
Arching a brow, Michael locked eyes with me. “I have been called many things, but simple is not one of them.”
I grinned as I moved my spoon around in my bowl. “No, I wouldn’t call you that.”
“So, what have you learned on the case?”
Taking another bite of my yogurt, I mulled over his question. “I’ve talked to all the contestants at the Civic Center.” I paused and grimaced slightly at the image of Tony going at it. “Well, most of them. There are a couple who’ve dropped out. I was just about to go hunt them down when you showed up.”
Michael didn’t answer that but quietly ate his treat. I watched him with growing curiosity and frustration. What was he doing here? What were they doing when they left me? They dropped in and out of my life at random without a word about any of it. They just keep thinking that I was going to be fine being in the dark. Well, I was done with that. It was time for some answers.
“Not now, Jane.” Michael’s firm but commanding voice made whatever I was going to say freeze on my lips. “Can I just be here... with you?”
There was a need there in his words, in the pinched skin around his eyes that made me pause. It was similar to the look Lucifer had given me. There was something they weren’t telling me... but I could wait for now. What Michael needed wasn’t me questioning him right now, that much I could tell in that need.
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