"Someone could be framing him," she pointed out.
"This is sick, Jace. Wake up and smell the coffee. I don't know how he's done it, but he's got you right where he wants you." He glanced over at Gonzales. "Your call, of course, but I don't think she needs to be working this case anymore." With that, he left the room.
Jace gaped at him, unable to believe this was the same man with whom she'd been intimate. She turned around, sure that Earl would disagree.
Earl looked at her sadly. Averted his eyes.
Capt. Gonzales spoke. "Whether or not McMullen's concerns are grounded, it's not proper for you to continue on this case now that your brother has become a victim. Turn your files over to Earl and take a few days off, Detective."
Jace rose unsteadily. "I'm a good cop. I haven't—" Gone over the line. She grasped the back of the chair.
But maybe she had.
"Just take a breather," Earl said. "Give yourself some time."
Stay out of it, Justine. Go bury your brother and try to forget. Dante's words echoed him.
Reeling, she faced her captain. "My dad was a good cop. All I ever wanted was to be like him."
He regarded her stonily. "We'll talk about it after you've buried your brother. Get some rest, Detective."
She didn't know what to do, where to go. Making her way blindly to the door, Jace left. At her desk, she pulled out her files and walked over to drop them for Earl—
And tried to ignore the pitying glances. The sense that everyone in the office could smell that she was tainted. The worst of all creatures, a cop gone bad. If they didn't know the details yet, they soon would. She'd be a leper in the only place she'd ever belonged.
When she looked around the room, heads ducked quickly. They might not have details yet, but they sensed it.
She was already cut out from the herd.
Alone. Right back where she'd started at age twelve, only now she didn't even have her dreams to guide her.
Because she'd become her own worst nightmare.
Chapter Sixteen
The chimes rang as Jace pushed open the door to Hearts Speak True. Goddess blinked at her from her perch beside the cash register, and Myra popped up from behind the counter.
"Hi, there— Oh, Jace, what's happened?" Rounding the edge, Myra rushed to where Jace stood, drained and numb. She wasn't even sure why she'd come, but she had realized as soon as she left the station that she couldn't be alone with her thoughts any longer.
"Jimmy's dead." Wrapping her arms tightly around her waist, Jace forced out every word of the story, each one scoring her throat. "And it's my fault."
"Oh, honey..." Myra enfolded Jace in her arms.
Too weary to think straight, Jace lowered her head to Myra's shoulder and sobbed.
The older woman reached behind Jace and turned the sign to CLOSED. She lead Jace to the back, to a sofa filled with plump cushions, then set about making tea. Myra's cure-all.
Jace sank into the cushions and buried her face beneath her hands, gasping sobs. Each one tore something loose inside her...dreams, hopes...plans for her future...
Promises not kept.
Responsibilities failed.
She saw Jimmy again, the carrot-top boy who'd never had a birthday worth a damn. Tagging along after his big sister, trying to understand a world that made no sense. Big hazel eyes studying her every move, seeking reassurance that somehow she'd make everything work out all right.
She'd never told Jimmy how scared she'd been, never revealed her terror that she couldn't keep them afloat—that someday he'd be taken from her, too, and cast into a world of strangers.
How had she lost sight of how fiercely she'd loved him? How much his love had fed her, his confidence in her kept her going? She'd let him slip away from her and into the darkness, the little brutalities of life...the final great betrayal.
I fucked up, but I'm going to fix it. Just stop Cassie from going back—please.
Had Dante kept Cassie from harm? Jace had failed Jimmy so badly he'd felt that he couldn't come to her for help. If she hadn't managed to save Cassie—
She bolted up, heart pounding. Had Cassie gotten into trouble, too? Had Jimmy been killed, trying to save her?
Dante had been so evasive. If he wasn't aware of Jimmy's death before she told him, what was he dodging?
He hadn't known about Jimmy, she believed that. He'd been honestly shocked. Surprised by the amulet, too, she'd swear, and disturbed that it had been placed on her pillow.
But he did know something about the cult, about the man known as the Keeper and about the Priestess.
And he was worried about her safety. Please. For your own sake, stay away. You are not safe.
Not the words of a cold-blooded killer. Not the sentiments of a psychopath.
But perhaps the concerns of a man trying to protect something. His sister? From whom?
The note-sender. Things clicked into place.
Somewhere was a person who'd orchestrated this. Someone who wanted Dante Sabanne implicated in three murders.
Dante had answers. He could clear all this up, give Jace her job back, if only he'd trust her.
"Here, Jace. Drink this. It will ease you." Myra handed her the cup.
For a split-second, Jace expected it to be cool and sweet. Dante leaning over her, eyes haunted. Here, drink this. It will ease your pain. Her cup clattered in its saucer.
Myra sat down beside her, steadying the cup. "You all right?" She flitted fingers through the air. "What am I saying? Of course you're not. What can I do to help you?"
Jace stood up suddenly, setting the cup on the side table. "I have to go, Myra." She looked down at her friend. "I'm sorry I can't stay to drink it, but I just—" Jace blinked hard, clearing her throat. "I can't lose my job. I've got to figure out what's going on."
"Your job? You have to give yourself time to grieve first, honey."
Jace stepped around Myra's feet. "I'll mourn later." She faced her friend. "Jimmy's killer is out there. I failed him in the worst possible way—" Her voice caught. "But I am not going to let that bastard go unpunished."
Myra gripped her hand. "I understand, but please...be careful. The cards are telling me your danger is not behind you."
Jace squeezed back. "Thanks for the tea, Myra."
"The tea you didn't drink?" Myra smiled fondly. "Come back anytime, Jace. You don't take good care of yourself. Let me feed you, at least. You look terrible."
Jace ran a finger through her tousled hair and smiled. "Thanks a lot." Without consulting the mirror, she knew Myra was right; she felt the ragged edges. She prepared to leave.
"Oh! Wait a minute, Jace. Someone left a note for you here—at least his description sounded like you but he called you Justine."
Jace's heart thumped. "Blond man, green eyes, not much taller than me?"
"That's him." She rushed up to the front to take it down from the bulletin board. "Here."
A hand-drawn map showed a path up into the mountains in the direction of Dante's estate, but closer to town. Only four words were printed on it: Tuesday midnight. Come alone.
A break. Maybe this was the cult meeting. Lucky for her, she had plenty of free time now. She'd be there.
But first, she had to find out who Dante was protecting.
"Thank you."
"Good news?"
"I hope so."
"Be safe, Jace. Watch your back. Darkness is all around you."
"Thanks. I will."
"I care about you."
Jace hugged her. "You're a good friend, Myra. The best. I'm sorry I didn't drink the tea, but you helped, really."
Myra clung for a second. "Come back, and I'll make more."
Jace gave Goddess one pat as she left.
Lost in thought as she drove toward Dante's, she never noticed the vehicle several cars back, concealed within the shifting shadows of a mountain twilight.
* * *
"Do I let her in, boss?" Manolo asked over the intercom, c
learly reluctant.
Jace waited, not sure what she'd do if Dante refused. Punchy from lack of sleep, all she was certain of was that her answers lay here.
"Yes." Dante exhaled, and she could hear fatigue in his voice. "Show her this way and then leave us alone, Manolo."
"You sure about that, Boss?"
"Just do it, please."
Too tired to gloat, Jace followed the huge man quietly, summoning whatever reserves she had left.
In the greenhouse, Dante was focused on the plants around him, pinching off a dead leaf here, checking the soil dampness there, acting as if nothing had happened.
She watched him for a moment before she opened the stained glass doors. Why couldn't she feel nothing? Why, after everything, did she have this sense of connection?
Christ, she was pathetic. Ruthlessly, she suppressed her emotions and opened the door. "Mr. Sabanne."
Slowly he rose, brushing small bits of dirt from his hand, and faced her. "Detective. You're back."
She remained silent, her fingers tracing leaves, eyes skimming over the plants as she sought the right way to begin.
He only stood there. Waiting.
"Are you protecting someone?"
Air escaped from his lungs in a rush. His eyes widened a fraction. Then he mustered the distance she'd seen too often. "What would lead you to such an assumption?"
Her shoulders sagged. Snapping off one leaf, she crushed it. "Why do you do this?" Plowing her fingers through hair she couldn't remember if she'd combed today, she began to pace.
Several feet away, she whirled. "You've lied to me—over and over. Seduced me and pretended it never happened. You've been to The Club, Dante, I know it." She jabbed a finger at her chest. "In here, I'm sure that was you, yet you deny that you all but stripped me naked, body and soul."
She could barely breathe. "I don't lose control like that. Ever. I hate you for it, despise that you—" She started to shake. Desperately, she grappled for the shattered remnants of the restraint that had always protected her.
But it kept slipping from her hands. "Do you know the difference between good and evil, Dante?"
He remained silent.
"I thought I did. I believed I was one of the good guys." Her voice dropped. "I don't recognize myself anymore. I've withheld evidence I should have shared, lied to my own superiors, jeopardized everything I worked so hard to achieve—"
She stared at him, trying to make him understand. "All I ever wanted was to be a good cop, to help destroy the evil in the world. Now I've betrayed the very principles I've sworn to uphold—and you know what?"
Mirthless laughter clawed its way up her throat. "The truly sick part of it is that I actually think I could almost live with what I've done if only you'd come clean with me. Instead you talk about prisms and sorcerers and bullshit you can't possibly expect me to believe. Yet I have these dreams, Dante...where I can feel you inside me. Where my body is dying from the pleasure—"
"Justine, don't—"
"Do not use that name!" she shouted. "And don't you dare pity me."
"I don't—"
"My brother is dead, you bastard."
"I understand. If something happened to Cassandra..." His voice hoarsened.
But she was too far gone in her grief. "You wouldn't have lost control the way I did. You never do. Damn you, Dante, I could have saved him if I hadn't been so obsessed with you, so far over the line—"
She struck out, wild with grief and fear. Slapped his chest with both palms and shoved. Doubled up her fingers and punched his shoulder with one fist.
Dante endured the blows with no effort to defend himself.
His refusal enraged her more. She whirled, aiming a kick at his chest that, had he not moved sideways, would have broken ribs.
"Enough!" He seized her.
She readied herself to stomp down and crush his arch. Dante swept her feet from beneath her and picked her up in his arms.
When the vortex threatened, she fought it with her last breath. "He's dead, damn you. My brother's dead, and you know something about it. You could help me if only you would." She struggled until her movements threatened to send them both crashing to the floor.
At last, she broke away and separated them by several feet. Her chest heaved, her body shaking as if in the grip of a fever. "How could you do this to me? Am I just an experiment to see how much power you can exert? A game you play for kicks?" She blinked back tears of fury and hopelessness. "I've lost everything and you won't even—" Her throat closed.
She sank to the floor, buried her face in her hands.
He fell to his knees beside her. "I never meant to hurt you. I should have stayed away, but from the first your valor cast a lure I could not resist, even before I knew what you would mean to me."
She lifted tear-swollen eyes to his. Defenseless. Lost.
Afraid of everything, including herself.
When a soul breaks, do you hear it?
This was even worse than the fear she'd suffered in the terrible days after her father died. When she knew they would never make it because everything was up to her and she was too young and too weak.
"I am truly sorry." He reached for her.
"Don't." She recoiled. She was a plant with dry roots, prey to the battering of the elements. Much as she longed to yield, seductive as his comfort was, she must not. Awful things happened.
"Please..." Once more he stopped inches from her skin. Dully she wondered if she had her fury to thank that when she'd lashed out at him, touching him hadn't sent her into that place that would surely destroy her, in her current state.
"I do not withhold information because I wish to."
She snickered without mirth. But then she looked up at him and saw the sorrow, the pain, the grief that clouded those beautiful silver eyes. "Then...why?"
"You are a creature of logic, and I cannot speak in those terms to explain."
She smiled thinly. "Nothing of what I feel for you is logical."
"I was raised differently, so believing the unimaginable is easier for me." He considered for a moment. "It is a very long story."
"I don't seem to have a job at the moment."
"But you have a brother to bury."
Tears rushed to her eyes, and he lifted a hand again before letting it sink to his side.
"There's nothing I can do right now, and I need answers, Dante."
"I know nothing of your brother's death, truly, except..."
"Except what?"
"Only suspicions, but I can find out more, and I will, I promise. But first...I need your help. When we touch, what is it you feel?"
"What? Dante..." Had he asked her this before? She didn't think...she wasn't sure...
"Please. The answer is critical."
"I...it's like falling. I'm thrown into a pitch-black sky, then..." She shrugged. "It sounds stupid."
"Not to me."
His look made her believe him. "There are starbursts and, well, ribbons of color. I see a pathway of the colors of the rainbow, laid out on what seems to be a carpet of stars." She shook her head. "It's ridiculous, and I'm no poet. I don't like it. I don't want it."
"I told you it was not logical, and there is much more. I do not know how much you can absorb without turning away altogether, and I cannot risk that. You are the key, you see, and I did not expect that. I thought you were a myth."
"Oh, please..." He was making Myra sound sane.
"Then I must make you believe." Before she could react, he gripped both her hands.
The world fell away. She tightened her hands on his because he was the only thing keeping her from flying apart. It was a hundred times worse than before.
"Stay with me," he murmured, then uttered a few words that made no sense.
Her eyes were wide open, yet she was seeing nothing of his greenhouse or Santa Fe or anything she knew. Colorful ribbons spooled out from her—actually from her, she realized, spilling from her chest and her belly.
Sh
e felt like she'd swallowed stars.
Music...something beautiful. Her head swiveled toward the sound of it, and she felt Dante leave her, yet still hold on.
"You are safe...stay with me...help me..." He forged ahead, a being made of starlight, his steps gliding along the yellow ribbon.
She felt...joy. Encompassing, overwhelming...after a moment, she relaxed, and the music swelled. She lost herself in the beauty of it, a song both poignant and ethereal, promising life and hope and comfort—
Something wrapped around her ankle.
Sent a chill through her blood.
She looked down, and a tentacle slithered, murky and cold, dragging her down—
She let go and began spinning violently. She was cold and terrified. "Dante!" she called, but around her was only darkness and ominous silence that exhaled menace and hate and—
"Justine!"
She plunged in a nauseating spiral, screaming and gasping.
He swooped in, grasped her. Gathered her in. "You're safe," he murmured. "I have you."
Memories of those words...of The Club...of him surrounding her, baring her...
"Stop," she sobbed. "What are you doing to me?"
"I am sorry." He brushed her hair back from her face, dried her tears. Touched her lips with one finger, his own eyes full of pain and sorrow. "I would release you from this if I could, I swear it." His lips barely tasted hers. So warm. So kind.
His kiss was a plea. A promise.
And Jace succumbed to tenderness as she could not have to desire.
Without warning, the charged atmosphere shifted from heartache and grief to a demand so powerful her head roared with it.
He gripped her hair in one hand, no finesse, no reserve, as his mouth ravaged hers.
She swiveled on his lap as he stripped away her blouse. She pressed her breasts against him, fed on his mouth. The air around them was redolent with blossoms, heavy and sweet. Leafy boughs overhead sealed them into an arbor that could have been Eden.
Jace couldn't get her breath, but she didn't care. She needed him so badly, craved what he had to give. Her mind reeled with images she couldn't credit, pictures of herself in his lap like this, naked, stripped of everything but him to protect her.
So Tempting Page 23
