She had kept herself so guarded. Never once—not a single time—had she ever told Finn she loved him. Even after he said it. She just sat up in the bed and walked away. Said she wasn’t comfortable talking about feelings.
He might have jumped the gun, telling her how he felt after only a month, but he’d thought they were on the same page. He hadn’t brought it up again. He hadn’t had a chance to.
Now she was back in his life and it was messing with his head. He was losing his focus. Not that he’d had much of that lately, either. At least she’d be there to pull him out if he became trapped in a memory again.
“Where are we heading?” Her question snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts, thankfully.
“Let’s take a pass through town. See what’s off the main strip.”
“We’re going to be conspicuous. All I’m seeing are old trucks and rusted-out compacts.” She smiled at him briefly. “Maybe we should have gone back to Summer Park to pick up your car.”
He bristled. “I junked it.”
“No way.”
“It might have fit in here, but I was sticking out like a sore thumb in Summer Park. I had to upgrade for stakeouts.”
Of course, he had bought his new car—topping out his budget—just a few months before Dad’s hospital stay. Dad insisted he keep it, and Finn couldn’t argue. It really was helping with stakeouts. He and his dad were doing okay so far with their savings and what the bar brought in, but Finn needed to get this squared away so he could get back to work.
“I liked that car,” Jazz said.
“Seriously?”
She shrugged and glanced over at him. “It had character.”
“That’s one word for it.”
Maybe the car was a happy reminder that she was above me.
What the fuck? Where were these thoughts coming from? He shifted in his seat, staring out the window at the few buildings they passed.
The thought was an unwelcome reminder of one of the main doubts that plagued him through their relationship. He had wondered the whole time they were together what Jazz saw in him. She was self-made, well off, and owned herself. Finn tended to fly off the handle. Jazz was always in control. What could she want with a private eye living above a bar with his dad?
Then he’d look in the mirror and remember.
Finn never had trouble getting a date before her and he doubted he’d find it challenging if he decided to put himself out there again. Jazz had made no secret of enjoying his body. She even made jokes that she could display him in the gallery if she didn’t want to keep him all to herself.
If she was only into him physically, how could he keep her interest over time? He wanted to grow old with her. He didn’t want to constantly be checking his physique, wondering if she was getting bored or looking to trade up. No matter what she said, her secretiveness kept reminding him of too many cases he’d worked.
Switching to investigating insurance fraud had helped him move away from seedy hotels and some truly disturbing moments gathering evidence that he wished he could forget. He was gaining a reputation with his new cases as someone who could crack seemingly impossible mysteries.
People had already started asking him what his secret was. He had to be careful.
If anybody figured out that he was using his powers to read objects—and people—involved in the cases… He’d lose all his business in a heartbeat. No one would believe what he did was real. He’d become a joke.
Dad disapproved of what he did. They weren’t supposed to use their powers to make money. Their gifts were meant to help people. That was what his granddad passed on when teaching Dad about his powers.
But Finn did help others with what he could do. He just also helped himself and his family.
“You’re walking a gray line, Finn.” Dad always let Finn know when he was about to take on a case that would cross the line, no matter how big the payout. Finn was grateful. He’d been tempted a time or two, but his dad always kept him on track.
Now he had Jazz to help him.
They passed the last building, the scenery reverting to thick foliage crowding between palm trees and pines. Damn, Clearview was tiny. Most of the buildings had busted-out windows and peeling paint.
“That was one shitty town,” Jazz said.
He couldn’t disagree. People were struggling here. He could feel it.
“I saw a bar that wasn’t boarded up,” he said. “That’s our best bet.”
“Let’s hope Michael’s cousin is a drinker then.”
From what Finn had seen, he wouldn’t doubt it. Not much of an eater, though. That nickname Michael kept using was just cruel. Finn almost felt sorry for the guy.
Almost.
She turned the SUV around using a side street, then headed back the way they had come. The parking lot for the bar had tons of potholes filled with sand and gravel. The SUV bounced as if they were driving off-road.
“Pull around so you’re facing the street.” He scanned the area, looking for the best place to park. “There. Park there. If we need to, we’ll be able to get out fast and it’d take several trucks to block us in.”
She raised her eyebrows and glanced at him, but did as he said. “You get to think about fun stuff in your line of work.”
He shrugged. “Things happen. I don’t like repeating mistakes.”
Like being with you.
What the fuck. He was seriously about to reach into his head and punch his brain. The lack of sleep must be getting to him more than he thought. Or the nightmares.
The most recent one… It was different. He suppressed a shudder.
Dreaming from his sister’s perspective made a lot of sense now that he knew their relationship. He’d researched psychic powers enough to know about the twin bond. Even non-psychic twins had heightened connections.
Experiencing what happened to her was horrible, but he understood it. What he didn’t understand was the dream on the way to Clearview—the nightmare from Michael’s point of view.
Finn had seen Siobhan’s memories so many times. Maybe his brain had decided to mix things up a bit. It was sure doing its own thing with the extremely unwelcome thoughts that kept popping into his head.
Yeah, he was bitter. But when had he become an asshole?
“Are we going to go in or just sit in the parking lot all day?”
He didn’t bother responding. Just scowled at her and opened the door. She fell in step beside him, keys in hand.
“Wait.” Finn grabbed her arm before she could lock the doors. God, he missed touching her.
She stared into his face. Didn’t ask. Didn’t say anything. Just waited for him to make a move.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t want them to hear the car arming itself and look out the window. We need to keep a low profile.”
She nodded. “I can lock it without it making a sound.”
He felt the muscles in her arm shift as she pressed the button to lock the door. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her, even while she put the keys in her pocket.
He wanted to kiss her again. That was a bad idea. Whether she went along with it or not, he was certain the results would gather attention. He finally let go of her and turned back to the bar.
Trees lined the parking lot. There were too many places people could be hiding and watching them. He headed for the bar at a brisk pace. At the door, Jazz ducked ahead of him and opened it so he didn’t have to touch the handle.
“Thanks.”
She actually smiled at him. “No problem.”
The bar was busier than Finn expected. The smell of grease and eggs explained that. It was quite possible that they were in the only restaurant in town, unless there were others tucked away down a side street. A wiry woman stood behind the bar, wiping the counter. She was maybe in her late thirties and looked pis
sed as hell.
Tread carefully, Finn.
He walked to the bar, making sure Jazz stayed close as he kept track of the patrons. A table of four guys with full plates. They’d be busy for a while. The pitcher at their table was full of beer instead of orange juice, though. That was an early start and a bad sign, especially since their glasses were still half-full from a previous pitcher.
Two other tables had guys sitting at them, but they were solo and focused on their food. Finn wasn’t as concerned about them. Numbers gave people false courage. Drinking would make matters worse.
He turned his attention back to the bartender. Flirting was out. He didn’t need his powers to detect the “do not fuck with me” mojo she was putting off. He’d need to be direct, but not give too much away.
This will be fun.
Finally, something he and his brain could agree on. Unless he wasn’t being sarcastic…while he was thinking to himself.
I’m worse off than I thought.
He brought his mind back to task and smiled as the woman made eye contact. He waited to speak until they were close and he could keep his voice down while being heard.
“Good morning.”
She nodded. “Morning.”
The rag on her shoulder had what looked like raw egg yolk on it. She was probably also the cook. He kept that in mind while figuring out how to get information from her. Using his powers to read her mind was out. He was pretty sure she’d cut off his hand if he tried to touch her.
At the very least.
Shut up, brain.
He sat on a stool, careful not to touch the counter. “Could we get two plates of eggs and toast with some orange juice?”
“Just some bottled water for me.” Jazz was glancing around with a grimace on her face. She looked revolted—like she didn’t want to touch anything herself.
The bartender snorted. “I can pour some from the tap into an empty. That work for you?”
Finn was sure Jazz was about to say something impolite in response. He reached over and touched her arm, giving her a pointed look. She seemed to get the message. He turned back to the bartender and smiled.
“Orange juice is fine,” Jazz said.
“I’ll have it right out.”
As soon as the bartender left Finn whispered, “What the hell was that?”
Jazz stood near the bar, but didn’t sit. “What do you mean? You’re going to get rabies eating the food here.”
“Come on.”
She leaned closer and pointed to the door that led to the kitchen. A possum was hanging right above it. It didn’t move as he stared at it. After a moment, he realized it was stuffed.
Great décor…
“At least it’s not going anywhere,” she murmured, crossing her arms.
“I don’t plan to eat anything.” Especially after seeing that. It would be a while before his appetite returned. “I just wanted to buy something so that I can overpay when I ask my questions.”
“Oh. So that’s how you do it.”
“Would you please sit down?”
“No thanks.” Jazz eyed the barstool. “I’m having enough trouble thinking of you sitting in my SUV in those pants.”
She shifted closer, scanning the room. Her arm brushed his shoulder.
“I could always take them off first.”
Dammit, he couldn’t keep himself from flirting with her, even now. Especially now, with her standing close, being there for him when he needed her. She had dropped everything to help him. He only just realized that.
She smiled at him and he felt it reflected on his face. He had forgotten that smile. How could he have forgotten it? It made him feel like he was the center of her universe. Her eyes softened, her lips parted, and…
He was already leaning in when she snapped out of it and pulled away. Damn good thing one of them was keeping a level head.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Forget it.”
She crossed her arms and looked at the bottles lining the shelves in front of them. Most were fairly empty.
The bartender returned and set two plates with wet eggs and burned toast in front of them. There was nothing floating in the orange juice, but Finn didn’t actually want to chance it.
He pulled four twenties from his wallet and set them on the counter. “Thanks.”
She didn’t reach for the cash as he’d expected. Instead, her eyes narrowed. She put her hands on the counter and leaned forward in an aggressive stance.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“My friend and I are just passing through town.”
“Good for you. Get on with it.”
Finn smiled at her, turning up the charm. Her lips pressed together more tightly. Perfect. She might be resisting him, but that meant he was at least affecting her.
“We’re hoping you can settle something for us.” He glanced at Jazz, then said, “I was telling my friend that this is the town where that serial killer grew up. You know…” He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned forward. “Michael Angelo.”
“Get the hell out of my bar.”
Jazz jumped in. “I told you this isn’t the town. If it was, they’d be cashing in on the publicity.”
The bartender snorted again. “Right. Cops and reporters hassling your regulars is great for business. They didn’t find anything here for them and neither will you.”
Her gaze lingered on a seat a few spots to Finn’s right.
“I’m not talking regulars,” Jazz said. “I meant tourists. Florida is already full of them. If Clearview is where that guy grew up, you could advertise it and draw in more business. Charge an admission fee just to get into the place for special events.”
“Events?”
Jazz had the woman hooked. Damn, she was a natural at this. He should have known, with the way she ran her gallery.
“His birthday. Halloween. You could make a whole show of it. Cash in on the creep factor.”
The bartender leaned back, considering. Jazz kept on, pressing her advantage.
“Of course, you might catch some flak from his family. Does he have any in the area?”
The woman’s gaze flicked back to that seat. Finn was able to track it better this time. Three stools over.
“You leave him alone. Travis is a good man.”
Perfect. Now we have a name.
Finn leaned forward, keeping his elbows on his knees so he didn’t touch the counter. “She didn’t mean anything, Nell.”
The woman and Jazz both stared at Finn. He wasn’t sure why.
“What?” he asked.
Nell lowered her voice to a very menacing register. “How do you know my name?”
Shit. Did he? He hadn’t even touched anything. How could he have picked that up? His mind spun, trying to come up with an explanation. He needed to keep it together. He needed to get her off their case for long enough to read Travis’s spot.
“Okay, you caught us,” Finn said. “We had this idea for building a tourist trap in Clearview. My friend here is a marketing genius. We thought maybe we’d scope the place out. See if there’s partnership potential.”
“There’s not,” Nell said. “So you keep on moving out of town.”
“Okay, okay. We get it.” He held up his hands and nodded. He gave her his best smile and said, “Can I at least finish my eggs?”
She snorted, then snatched up his money and stalked away.
Chapter Thirteen
Jazz was ready to leave. She wanted to head back to Summer Park, burn their clothes, bleach the inside of her SUV, and spend three days in the shower. Maybe she could convince Finn to join her.
As soon as the bartender went back into the kitchen, Finn stood up. He didn’t head for the exit as Jazz had hoped. Instead, he walked to a different barstool and sat.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“This is where Travis always sits. I need to read the spot.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
They were in a public place. He could get lost in the memory. He could get a horrible disease from touching something in the bar. Jazz had looked at the floor once since coming in. Things were…moving.
“We need to know more about him. Who he is, where he lives. Scoot my plate over here, will you? It’ll be less conspicuous.”
She glanced at the plate. The eggs were half-liquid. It was one thing to have a ratty place, but the bartender—Nell—could have at least cooked the eggs properly.
“How did you know the bartender’s name?”
“I must have picked it up somehow.”
“What, by reading the seat through your ass?”
He busted out laughing, then shook his head. Part of her delighted in hearing him laugh. Most of her was terrified.
“This is serious. Have your powers gone airborne or something?” she asked.
If they did, she would have to get him away from people, away from civilization. It would be the only way to keep him sane.
“No. It must have been something I picked up from reading Michael’s memories earlier. Or maybe from Travis.”
She wasn’t buying it. Something about the whole thing felt wrong—beyond his powers being whacked out.
“Jazz, please. You’ve been so keen on helping me. I need you now.”
Dammit.
She pushed the plate over to him, then set up her dishes at the seat next to it. She still couldn’t bring herself to sit down.
“I’ll be right here.”
“Give me ten minutes tops. If I’m not done, shake me out of it anyway.”
“Okay.”
She didn’t like it. She didn’t like anything about this. Her stomach was still in knots from giving that woman ideas for ways to use Michael Angelo as a marketing tool. Jazz hadn’t known what else to do. If she ever found out this place was acting on those suggestions, she wouldn’t forgive herself.
But they had made progress. They had a name for Michael’s cousin. And if this worked out, they would know even more.
Lingering Touch: The Summer Park Psychics, Book 3 Page 11
