by Raven Snow
I growled at him, resisting the urge to go claws out. “He’s a cop risking his life to apprehend those idiots.”
The man’s expression changed completely, but he didn’t move, speaking gently instead. “He’d want you to stay safe—out here.”
No doubt, but that hadn’t stopped me before.
Using the moves granted to me by the skating gods, I dove under and between the man’s legs, ignoring his shocked shout. As soon as I was on the other side, at least two-dozen cops were running me down. I sprinted like the wind, dodging and zig-zagging as I made a break for the front door. I’d had nightmares like this—law enforcement chasing me, followed by a night in lock-up. I hoped this wouldn’t end like those did.
The skating gods smiled on me that day, because I reached the threshold and dived inside, knowing the doughnut hounds couldn’t follow me. Their orders were to keep the line, and they couldn’t do that from inside.
Bouncing back up, I waved from the window to Vic and brushed off the dirt, dust, and other less pleasant things I’d rolled in. The place was an even bigger dump than where I’d grown up, and that was saying something.
I passed a dead rat—at least I hoped it was dead—on the way to the stairs. All was quiet on the lower levels, as they’d been evacuated. It made me feel like I was in one of those apocalypse movies, and those never ended well for the saucy, female characters.
I sprinted up the stairs, using stamina I didn’t know I had. They creaked, and I slipped on a couple of puddles that I didn’t want to think about on the way up. The closer I got to the top, the louder the gunfire became, feeling like it was right in my ear by the end.
I turned a corner, and a muscled man lacking in the hair department popped up. He frowned at me for a second, and then raised his gun, letting off a few shots. I dove to the side, and he missed me narrowly.
From behind my hiding place of a bed without a mattress, I pulled out the cannon that I’d swiped off Vic. She’d been happy to let me borrow it, but I wasn’t sure how useful it’d be. The weight of the thing alone made it hard to lift and aim.
Luckily, that didn’t prove necessary. The guy got one look at my gun, paled, and sprinted off. I blew imaginary smoke away from the top and followed him, looking in every room along the way for my Wyatt.
“Wy−”
The last bit was covered up by the least badass scream I’d ever uttered as a hand covered my mouth and yanked me into an empty apartment. I flailed, trying to remember any of the self-defense my man had taught me, but nothing was working.
The reason why became apparent a few seconds later.
“For someone so feisty, you’re a horrible fighter,” Wyatt whispered, his eyes beyond me, searching for danger even as we talked.
“I had a crappy teacher.”
He drew me farther into the apartment, and I realized he had his gun drawn and at the ready. Even in the dire situation, Wyatt with a gun was a turn on.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed. “This is police business and dangerous, not that that ever seems to matter to you.”
My cheeks heated up for no reason. We loved each other; there was no shame in telling him that I’d rushed to his rescue. Still, I didn’t think Wyatt would appreciate the sentiment that had put me in harm’s way, even if I could have expressed it.
He seemed it get it, though, like he always did, and his expression softened. “Now you know what it feels like on the other side of things.”
“Not good.”
Moving closer to the door, gun still at the ready, he said, “No, not good at all.”
“This is all Pete’s doing?” I asked, coming up behind Wyatt.
“Turns out Pete was a part of a much bigger drug-dealing operation.”
“Good for Pete. I always told him he could do more.”
“Could you wait to cheer for the bad guys until after we’re out of the line of fire?”
We weren’t out of the line of fire for at least an hour. For our part, we got very little action, just hearing most of it. I think that was mostly Wyatt’s doing, trying to keep me away from live ammo. I could respect that, even if I was disappointed. I didn’t even get to shoot anyone with the cannon.
When we were exiting, the dealers in cuffs ahead of us, Wyatt got his first good look at Vic’s gun, his eyes bulging out of his head. “Where did you get that thing?”
“I’m holding it for a friend; I swear.”
He pinched his nose, walking ahead of me. “Get rid it before I have to arrest you.”
I made a seductive sound at the back of my throat. “And what would you do to me once the cuffs were on, Mr. Policeman?”
He didn’t find that nearly as amusing as I did, so I did a quick swap with Vic. She handed me a leftover egg roll from our lunch, and I gave her the gun. It was about as equal as these things go.
Hurrying to follow Wyatt, I waved at Vic to drive off without me. He was headed straight toward my building across the street, walking into the alley next to it that had too many memories. I stopped dead.
After a few feet, he turned back, looking puzzled. “Are you coming? I’m parked a few blocks down.”
I shook my head, and he was suddenly by my side, his heat a steadying presence. “Harper,” he said seriously, “are you alright?”
I hadn’t been down that alley in years, though the incident had happened a month before I found out about inheriting the Funky Wheel. It’d been almost impossible to get to the apartment without going down it, but I’d managed for a month.
Years had passed, but I could still remember the last time like it was happening now. I saw myself bouncing down the alley, coming home from a night of exotic dancing and still feeling the beat in my soul. From behind me, a man—little more than a boy, really—crept up behind me.
Back then, with my mother dead and being underage, I’d been big into magic. It was the only way I survived. Though I couldn’t conjure money or food, magic kept me protected, and it kept me lucky. Opportunities fell out of the sky for me, though I loved to dance too much to give up stripping. I liked the disco lights.
But then that kid had attacked me, trying to take a little bit of money of all things. Without thinking, I drew on my magic, thrusting it on the kid in a moment of haste.
The high had been unbelievable, but the consequences lived with me to this day. I’d learned to fear magic and myself that night, because I truly saw, for the first time, the destructive power it held over me. I’d been fooling myself that I was in control.
I came out of my flashback and realized Wyatt was murmuring to me, saying comforting nonsense and pressing my head between my knees. I was on the ground and my whole body was shaking like it was falling apart.
“It’s okay, Harper,” Wyatt said, his voice firm and in control. It was exactly what I needed right then.
His body blocked me from view of all the people around, and I was fiercely grateful for that. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a freak out like that, but I hoped it was the last time for me. Coming to in a different place made me feel as out of control as magic did.
Helping me to my feet, Wyatt kept close to me as we walked the long way around, staying so far away from the alley, I couldn’t even smell the rotting food. He didn’t ask questions, though he had to be burning with the feeling of not knowing. I didn’t really have anything to say just then. He knew the story, and I didn’t want to reiterate.
I expected him to have to check in with someone, but we went straight back to the hotel. The silence was starting to grate on me, so I said, “I’m sorry.”
He slammed the door shut at that, shaking his head. “Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
When I would have stood there, shaking slightly, he pulled me over to the bed, sitting me down in his lap. There wasn’t anything to say, and that didn’t bother me at the moment. Neither did the few tears that tracked down my face. With Wyatt so close, nothing really bothered me at all.
Chapter Eight
I woke up with red eyes and bedhead. Glaring at the mirror, I yanked a brush through my hair, which made it poof out. Wyatt, who was brushing his teeth for our night outing, turned away a second too late for me to miss his lips twitch.
“You better watch yourself, Officer Bennett. I’m not to be trifled with tonight.”
He raised his hands in surrender, smiling and pressing a kiss to my temple. It happened too quickly for me to slap him upside the head, so I settled for grunting in an unladylike manner.
Vic was being given the night off, so I was taking Wyatt to the school with me. I was overdue for a thorough search of the place. Most of Connor’s time was spent there during these last couple of weeks, and a couple of the crimes had taken place on the grounds. That made it my best hope for real evidence and not just my gut feelings—not that I couldn’t run with the gut feelings. I did that a lot.
Before we walked through the front door, I stopped Wyatt and pulled him aside. “I’m alright.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Fine.”
I swore a blue streak, and he smiled, leading the way through the front door. I knew he wasn’t going to push yet, but I also knew the subject wasn’t over and done with. You couldn’t have a freak out like that and expect your partner not to want details—especially when you and your chosen are nosey, nosey people. For more than once in my life, I wished I had a little less baggage to drag painfully out into the open.
Suzy Q was flying around the gym in heels. She would’ve looked fantastic, except that she was red in the face and her eyes were frantic. Personally, I thought they’d put too much work into the reunion already and should’ve called it quits, but I was smart enough not to tell Suzy that.
Hannah sat off to the side, watching Connor and Jose shoot the breeze about whatever it is guys talk about. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, so I guessed it was either women or football— but maybe I was just thinking of Wyatt.
I waved quickly to all of them, but moved quickly away from the auditorium when it looked like Connor and Jose were going to approach me. I didn’t want Con screwing up my process—not usually an issue since most of my clients were already dead—and I couldn’t deal with the flirty Jose just then.
Wyatt and I snuck along the dark hallways, searching through lockers on either side. A born snoop, I wasn’t the least bit perturbed by this. Wyatt, on the other hand, scowled the whole time.
“This is a violation of procedural rights.”
I rolled my eyes. “School hasn’t started; the lockers don’t legally belong to anyone.”
“It’s the spirit of the law,” he said.
I was suddenly reminded of why I didn’t typically bring Wyatt along. He was my everything, but he also lived his life in shades of black and white, while I resided permanently in the grey section.
Luckily, his phone rang the next instant. He frowned, answering and shaking his head. I could only guess that it was the police, asking him to come back in, because the one person they hadn’t caught in the raid was Pete. From the cues I was getting, Wyatt was also telling them he couldn’t.
I could only guess the reason for that.
“Go,” I waved at him nonchalantly. “I’ll call Vic to help me with the search and seizure.”
He stared at me for a long moment, pursing his lips and obviously thinking about how I’d had a breakdown only hours previously. For that reason, he waited until I called Vic and she had arrived before kissing me goodbye and heading off into the night.
Vic bounced up to me. “Thank god you called. My daughter’s going through that phase where I’m no longer cool, and my house is as silent as a graveyard.”
Was Cooper going to go through that phase? Surely, he’d never think me uncool. I invented cool!
Putting that unhappy thought to the side, I directed Vic to Wyatt’s side of the hall, and we began to move toward the other end, slowly but surely.
It was slow because Vic kept stopping to chat me up. I tried not to acknowledge her, but the woman had some good points about the outrageous price of bras and tampons.
When she gasped a few minutes later, I thought she’d just come to another epiphany.
“Look at all these screws!” she said, shaking her head. “We had to clean our lockers out better in our day.
Before she could slam the door shut, I caught it, so we wouldn’t have to enter in the combination again. Just like she said, there had to be three dozen screws in there, looking very much like the ones missing from our deconstructed ladder.
“Finally, a clue.”
Vic’s eyes widened. “I found a clue?”
We didn’t have time for a celebratory dance, but I practically had to drag Vic down the stairs by her hair to keep her from doing one. She still bounced and hopped around like a child with a sugar rush. Resisting the urge to bop her on the head took most of my energy, leaving me drained and cranky.
The office was locked, but I’d never seen a lock that could stand up to a little bit of magic. After earlier, it took me a few tries to bring forth even that little amount of power. Usually, I didn’t have a problem with the small stuff, and it was admittedly convenient.
Finally, the door was open and Vic and I busted inside. She giggled, “I feel like we’re here to use whiteout on our permanent records.”
“We’d need an industrial-sized bottle for mine.”
The filing cabinets weren’t locked, but they were rusty and filled to the brim. Vic had to steady the enormous cabinets while I yanked with all my weight. The drawer stuck for a moment, and then sprung lose, sending me sprawling onto the ground.
After helping me back up, Vic thumbed through the files. She had office work experience, while I let Amber handle all the paperwork for my business. I was just at the Wheel to eat pizza and boogie until I just couldn’t boogie anymore, and that moment had not come for me yet.
“What’re we looking for?”
“Locker assignments. We need to see who would know the combination to that locker.”
She smiled wryly. “Besides anyone who can break in here?”
“Let’s assume they have more scruples or less skill than us.”
Unearthing a single sheet with a mighty pull, she said, “Got it! Er−do we know a Hershel? He had it last year.”
I pinched my nose, becoming Wyatt in that instant. “We’re not looking for a sixteen-year-old. Go back further to our year.”
“Way back, you mean.” She hummed cheerfully to herself as she traveled back in time to our youth and pulled out the records. “Yay!” she said, finally seeing the name.
“Share with the class, Miss Chase,” I said, craning my neck to get a better look.
She turned the paper around, grinning. “It’s one of our main suspects.”
And sure enough, the name Hannah Workman was stated there in bold next to the locker number. I wasn’t nearly as excited as Vic because of all the “evidence” we’d already accumulated against Jack. The case could easily turn in either direction.
“Alright,” I said, deciding to take immediate action. “I’ve gotta go, and you’ve gotta go home.”
Vic’s face fell. “What? But I−you need a ride, right?”
“I’ll call a cab or something. The next part is illegal, and you’re not going. Foot down.”
It was one thing to bring a professional like Oliver with me when I was breaking into places, but Vic would get me caught. Besides, I was spending too much time with her, and it was becoming hard to remember all the ways she’d made my life hell in high school. I didn’t want to be Victoria Chase’s new BFF.
“You have to take me.”
“Why would that be?” I asked coolly, steeling myself against her watering eyes. “And cut the amnesia act. We hated each other in high school. Why are you hanging around me?”
“Because… because…”
Then, she promptly burst into tears, and I’m not talking the dainty kind. Snot, salt water, and other bodily fl
uids ran down her red face as she blubbered, blowing her nose on whatever filed paper she could find. Backing up, I watched the show with mixed horror and fascination.
“My life is crap now—crap! Does that make you happy?”
I shook my head, eyes wide and fearful she was going to throw the filing cabinet at me.
“My husband left me for the babysitter. He took everything with him, too—the car, the house, my dog,” she wailed. “I’m a divorced woman with a kid, and my ass is crap.”
“I think your ass is great.”
“It’s crap!”
I patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “If I were a guy, and I saw your butt in a bar, I’d definitely give it a second glance.”
“You mean that?”
“I do.”
“I can come with you?”
Heading toward the door, I nodded reluctantly. “As long as you stop crying.”
“Do we go slap handcuffs on her?” Vic whispered as we watched Hannah chug from her flask from the doorway of the gym.
“I save the cuffs for the bedroom.” I nudged Vic toward the parking lot. “We’re going to do some breaking and entering.”
She bit her lip. “I knew I should’ve worn the black spandex today.”
Vic’s car was as noisy as a chain smoker breathing as we crept along the mostly abandoned subdivision roads. Everyone was in for the night, except the two hooligans way past their prime shenanigans age.
Like the rest of my successful class, Hannah lived in one of the nice houses in the suburbs. She’d gotten the house in the divorce, so it was a little more extravagant than where Connor was staying. Both of their places made my loft above the Funky Wheel— where I’d stayed before moving in with Wyatt— look like a box in a back alley.
None of the lights were on, and the driveway was deserted. I breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, I knew where Hannah was, but that didn’t necessarily mean that no one was home. Just my luck, I’d walk in on a boyfriend showering.
“What do we want to find?” Vic asked, her back to me as she watched the street while I took care of the lock.
“A written confession that’s signed by a notary and witnessed.”
