The Divine Roses (Jake & Dean Investigations Book 3)

by Richard Amos

  Under the blissful sun, we made out by the river. Soft kisses and the odd fondle until Lars arrived to end our fun.

  “Hallo, lovebirds,” Lars said. He was a big guy with red hair and a red beard that was becoming nothing short of epic.

  “Hi,” I replied.

  Evi slid out of the police car to join him— a fellow copper with auburn-hair and freckles on her fair skin that Lars went gooey over.

  They were super-cute freckles.

  She slid her hand into his.

  I smiled. “Finally.”

  She laughed. “Thought you’d like it.”

  We’d been waiting ages for them to finally get together.

  “Congratulations,” Dean said. “So happy for you. And like Jake said—finally!”

  Lars laughed his big belly laugh, then focused on the job at hand. “Okay, let’s get this thing out of here before the sun turns me redder than I already am.”

  “You look good,” Dean said from behind me, planting a nervous kiss on my neck. He wrapped his arms around my waist, watching me through the reflection of our bedroom mirror.

  Evening time. I’d had my hair cut about an hour ago at our local barbershop, after Lars had taken Sem away, and was checking it for the umpteenth time. Having my hair done was such a bleedin’ chore. Still, it looked fine—short and neat and tidy. No floppiness here.

  I chuckled at myself.

  “What?” Dean asked, his chin resting on my shoulder.

  “Private joke.”

  “You can tell me.”

  “No floppiness here,” I said.

  He lifted his chin. “Sorry?”

  “My hair. Not floppy, but the rest of me… Stupid joke in my head.”

  He laughed lightly in that sexy way he did. “Keep them coming. They help.”

  I rested my head on his, careful not to squish the dark quiff of his hair.

  Tonight was the night Dean’s dad was coming to talk about the issue with our daughter.

  Lou was a quarter fae being the daughter of half-fae Dean and Rachel, a human who was no longer with us. They’d had a drunken one-night stand back in Coldharbour before me and Dean had become a thing. Any fae power should have come out when Lou was a baby. She was coming up to five now in seven days (eek!), and a power had suddenly appeared back in February where she’d, well, frozen everyone apart from Dean and myself.

  I could still see it—her head back, her mouth wide open in a silent scream. The image infected my dreams, bringing nightmares every other night. Dean too. She hadn’t done it again. Yet. But she would. She’d reacted to danger, and our lives were full of danger almost every single day. So Dean had written to his dad, a full-blooded fae who lived in Faerie, to come and help.

  Dean hadn’t held up much hope—his dad sounded like a complete prick. But here we were, middle of March, and Lord Evander Gold was arriving in Amsterdam tonight for dinner at Voortreffelijk (Exquisite)—a posh restaurant just off Dam Square.

  “You alright?” I asked Dean, my voice a soft whisper. I knew he was nervous. In fact, that was an understatement.

  “Anticipation is killing me.”

  I turned to kiss him. Every time his soft lips met mine, I melted a little bit more. God, I loved him so much.

  “I’d like to say it’ll be okay.”

  “You can, Jake.”

  “I want it to be okay.”

  “The fact he responded to the letter and has agreed to see me is a huge step. Believe me.”

  God, I was dreading tonight. “What’s the time?”

  He stepped back, looking so sexy in his tight black trousers, loafers, and black shirt open just enough to give me a yummy glimpse of his lightly sun-kissed flesh.

  Be still, penis.

  “Quarter past seven,” he answered, checking his watch.

  “We should head out in a minute, then.”

  He nodded. “I’ll meet you downstairs, sexy.” He came in for another kiss, gave my backside a light squeeze, and left our bedroom.

  I turned back to the mirror. Teal tunic shirt, white jeans, and some teal brogues I paid way too much for. Yeah. I did look pretty decent. Once upon a time, in my short-lived modeling days, I was all about the fashion. A part of me always would be, but not as full-on anymore. Being a parent and a PIA (Paranormal Investigations Agent) had brushed that aside.

  Sort of. It was always nice to make an effort, to enjoy clothes. Honey for the soul. If you liked honey, that is.

  With one last check, I headed downstairs.

  Lou was on one of the brown sofas in the living room, snuggled under a blue blanket with Sophie—next-door neighbor and awesome babysitter/tutor/witch. Her human husband, Luuk, was sat on the opposite sofa, scanning through the streaming service on the TV for a movie to watch. There was a pile of snacks on the coffee table too. A proper film fest was about to go down, and I had to go outside where all the bad things were.

  Life had always been complicated, but now it’d really become tangled. The Conclave, a crazy religious group, were gunning to kill me at some point—or so they kept saying. The pods weren’t going anywhere, and Parker Smith thought of me as some kind of zoo animal. He’d murdered a whole bunch of goblins just for fun. Among other things. Add Elijah Hart being the head of the Conclave, potentially Parker’s twin or something else to the mix and, yep, complicated. But the one thing that bothered me more than anything else was the fae woman who’d come to Amsterdam, briefly kidnapping my daughter and taking something from her. It made no sense, and I had no idea why she’d done it.

  When, not if, I found out who she was, she was a goner.

  Being outside was where the danger was, taking me away from the haven of our home. Away from Lou. I hated being away from her. If I had my way, I’d never step foot out the door. But I couldn’t listen to those voices, and I wouldn’t. While there was a threat out there, I’d rise up to meet it head-on. For Lou, for Dean, for our future.

  I wasn’t going down. No knob head was coming for my family or taking me away from them.

  Not ever.

  “You look lovely, Daddy,” Lou said to me.

  “Aw, so do you, cutie pie.”

  She giggled in her Jupiter pajamas. She was a seriously bright kid for her age, obsessed with all things space.

  “Both handsome, handsome, handsome,” she added for me and her papa.

  Dean leaned in to kiss her forehead, followed by me. She grinned then wiped at our kisses.

  “You be a good girl,” Dean said.

  “I will, Papa.”

  He ruffled her hair, making her dark curls puff up. It didn’t take much.

  I suppressed a chuckle. Her curls were all sorts of cute. Man, I just wanted to get on that sofa with her and watch movies with popcorn and hot chocolate.

  Her face took on a serious expression. “Tomorrow, I meet grandad.”

  I hesitated. Dinner tonight, then the big meet up tomorrow.

  “You will,” Dean answered.

  She smiled. “Have a nice dinner.”

  Dean turned to me, radiating fear. “Ready to go?”

  “I’ll call a taxi.”

  “I’ll grab some weapons.” He left the room.

  You couldn’t be too careful in this day and age. Even civilians packed a weapon of some description when leaving the house. Commonplace to see someone taking an ax to a picnic.

  The only weapon I could actually touch was my trusty spear. Bulky, but practical for me. My body just refused everything else—a pesky residual effect from a former life.

  “Good luck with Dean’s father,” Soph said, glowing in her bright orange pajamas, blonde hair tied up into a bun.

  “Thanks. Is it too late to cancel?”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Dean added, returning to the room.

  He handed me my wooden spear with gold pointy bits on both ends, sliding a dagger into a black scabbard on his left hip. When I touched the spear, white smoke came to life in my hand, drifting from my skin along t
he wood—part of that residual effect.

  “Right,” I said. “Taxi.”

  Two

  Dean

  Jake and I arrived at Voortreffelijk, entering the restaurant hand in hand. I nodded my thanks to the doorman, as the tall maître d' with a blonde bob and black dress came over.

  “Goedenavond,” she greeted us. “Welcome to Voortreffelijk.”

  “Hallo. Reservations for Tseng,” I replied in Dutch.

  “Excellent. Please follow me.”

  “Have our other party arrived?” I couldn’t see my dad anywhere, but I wanted to be sure.

  “No, sir. You are both the first to arrive.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  She led us through the restaurant of terracotta stone flooring, rose gold walls, and a copper ceiling, past tables with elegantly dressed folk eating their equally elegant meals. The restaurant had some of the best seafood I’d ever had in my life.

  We were seated at a table for four in the far corner of the restaurant. I’d asked for the table when making the reservations, not wanting to be in the center of the action with my dad around.

  “Dank u,” I said to the maître d.

  “You’re welcome. Your waiter will be with you momentarily. Please have a wonderful evening.”

  “Cheers,” Jake offered.

  On any other night, this table with its lit bronze candle, elegant cutlery, and white tablecloth, the dim lighting of the place setting the mood, things would have been romantic. In fact, we’d had a few romantic meals here when we’d had the chance to.

  But this wasn’t going to be one of those evenings.

  The waiter came over, taking our drink orders—Jake an orange juice, me a sparkling water. Neither of us drank alcohol.

  When the waiter left, it was just Jake and me in our quiet corner. I savored the fleeting moment, staring into Jake’s striking blue eyes, never getting tired of the creamy complexion, those cheekbones, that lovely dark hair in its cute new hairstyle. The way his mouth twitched into the smallest of smiles when he caught me staring had me grinning.

  I’d never felt so lucky in my life. My fiancé. The love of my life. Him and Louise, my heart. I couldn’t wait to marry him.

  “What?” he asked softly.

  “Nothing.” I reached across the table to take his hand. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  More staring, more shy smiles. We were so mushy at times.

  “So, what you having tonight?” he asked.

  “The sea bass, probably.”

  “Ah, the old faithful.”

  “Absolutely.” Honestly, I had zero appetite. My stomach was in knots.

  Dad was coming.

  The last time we’d spoken had been when Lou was a baby. An awkward conversation on the phone full of stilted conversation. I suppose it made a change from it all being about him. For once, he hadn’t droned on about himself—an amazing achievement.

  Now he wanted to talk, to help, to meet the grandchild he’d been so nonchalant about.

  This was for Louise. Not me. Not Dad. We needed help and my dad was the only person I could reach out to. Things over in Faerie were complicated nowadays, and I didn’t have many fae friends—only ones from the past I’d left there. Dad was my only hope. I hadn’t expected him to come through.

  Credit where credit was due, I suppose.

  Let’s see how the evening goes.

  The waiter brought over our drinks, set to return for food orders when the guest of honor arrived.

  Jake squeezed my hand. “You okay? Stupid question, I know.”

  I nodded. “What about you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Food-wise?”

  He bit his bottom lip in thought. “Don’t know. Might go for the steak. It’s been a while.”

  You could always rely on talk of food to fill the minutes, to be a little bit distracting. It worked. I was actually thinking about a rump steak, then Jake’s rump, then mushrooms.

  Mushrooms?

  “Hello, sweetheart.” A loud, dramatic voice filled the restaurant.

  A shiver went through me. Oh, God. He was here.

  Jake sat up, looking behind me. My back was to the door. “Is he wearing gold fur?”

  I turned to look over my shoulder. Yes, my dad was wearing gold fur—a gaudy and gleaming long fur coat of metallic gold you needed sunglasses to look at.

  I let out a heavy sigh. “Here we go.”

  “Good evening, everyone!” he bellowed.

  I couldn’t look—

  Wait…

  I turned again, the golden coat so distracting she hadn’t registered on my radar. A woman in a purple, shoulder-less gown, a clutch purse in her hands, her raven hair falling about her sun-kissed shoulders in loose curls.

  “Orla?” I said.

  “Who’s Orla?” Jake asked.

  I didn’t answer, watching her follow my dad this way, him nodding at the customers, doing his over-the-top charm offensive.

  “Dean?” Jake’s voice came from a muffled place.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Orla. Talk about a blast from the past.

  She caught me staring, her green eyes sparkling as she offered me a gentle smile.

  What was she doing here?

  My palms were sweaty as they approached, my dad’s dark eyes meeting mine on his final strides.

  That was the only feature we shared—the same eye color. Other than that, I had the Singaporean looks of my mother. Nothing else pegged us as related. His skin was bronze from all the time he spent in the summer lands of Faerie, his hair long and sleek silver.

  “My boy,” he announced as I got to my feet.

  Always the fucking showman. “Hello, Father.”

  “Father?” He roared with laughter, giving me two air kisses. “Call me Dad.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  He was a big man, tall and muscular, a guy who enjoyed the company of many, many women. In fact, he was a cliché, a total bed-hopping man whore.

  Deep breaths…

  “And this must be Jake. Evander Gold.”

  Jake was already by my side. “Nice to meet you.” They shook hands.

  “Likewise.” He stepped back. “Yes, I can sort of see it.”

  “What’s that?” Jake asked.

  “What would break my son out of his lust for females.” He laughed heartily, stripping off his golden coat to reveal a white muscle top and tight black jeans.

  Jake bristled beside me.

  “Here.” He handed his coat to the waiter. “I’ve decided I don’t want to leave it on.” He turned to me. “It’s terribly cold on Earth. Apart from in here. Phew!”

  I placed a hand on Jake’s lower back.

  God, he was stewing. After all these years together, I could feel it as a physical heat, a fire ready to engulf. With my hand positioned where it was, that was me telling him to ignore this idiot.

  But then I was rattled once again, as Orla came closer, my dad taking a seat.

  Orla…

  I moved my hand away from Jake, taking her soft hand in mine. “Been a long time.”

  She smelled of flowers. Sweet pea? I didn’t know for sure. “It has.”

  “You look stunning.”

  “As do you,” she breathed.

  Once upon a time, I’d been obsessed with this fae woman, the two of us—

  “Hi, I’m Jake.” He brushed past me, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  She offered a cool nod and took a seat by my father, green eyes sparkling beneath a canopy of long lashes.

  Orla…

  “Dean?” Jake’s voice sent a jolt through me.

  “Y-yes?”

  “Time to sit.”

  “Oh, right.” I sat, feeling that rage radiating from Jake again.

  Rage at Orla? No. He didn’t need to. Maybe I’d come across as some starry-eyed puppy. I wasn’t. I didn’t feel any sort of way about her anymore. Whatever we’d had was long buried. I was
just shocked to see her. That was all. Yes, she was strikingly beautiful, but not in Jake’s league. He had my heart, my soul, my desire. No one else.

  Still, her perfume was extremely overpowering. Something about it… So sweet, so Faerie.

  A memory flared up, Orla and me sitting on a clifftop in the summer lands. Nighttime, fireflies, the waves, our music, our bodies…

  “Good to see you, Son.”

  I broke out of my head. “Y-you too, Dad.”

  “Are you nervous?” He titled his head. “Of me?”

  “No.” I licked my dry lips, Orla’s perfume suddenly too thick, too sickly sweet.

  What was wrong with me?

  “You’re nervous of Orla.” He laughed. “I think I am a little bit with that dress of hers.”

  Orla smiled shyly, sat opposite Jake, who bristled once again.

  That had me frowning in his honor. “Why would I be nervous of Orla?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You look it.”

  “Well, I’m not. I was just surprised to see her.” I shuffled closer to Jake, giving him reassurance.

  Why did I need to do that? I never needed to before!

  Get your head together!

  “So, what are we drinking?” Dad asked. “Champagne? This is a family reunion, after all. What’s your tipple, Jake?”

  “Orange juice,” Jake replied coolly.

  “What? Why?” He pulled a face.

  I sighed, shaking my head. “Jake doesn’t drink. Neither do I.”

  “You’re kidding me?”

  Orla rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so shocked, Evander. Not everyone drinks.”

  My dad’s dark eyes bored into me. “Are you sure you’re my son?”

  How to Hold your Tongue 101: Firstly, stay as calm as you can. You have to be relatively cool of head. I was, for the most part. I had buttons that could be pushed, but my rage switch was a lot more hidden than Jake’s. Secondly, with that cool head, you had to refrain from hurting the ego of an absolute arsehole of a man like Evander Gold when you needed him to solve a problem for you—or at least help as much as he could, seeing as you didn’t have a clue what to do and were failing your daughter every minute of the day by seeing a useless—

  I hadn’t craved booze or cigarettes since I’d given them up four years ago. But in this moment, I was feeling all the cravings once again. My dad was a huge trigger.