Wicked Beginning: An Ivy Morgan Mystery Books 1-3

by Lily Harper Hart

  The feeling of Jack’s strong heart beating against her check was all Ivy could take. She burst into tears, letting Jack stroke the back of her head as he whispered quiet words to soothe her. It was over. She was safe. The only thing left at risk was her heart, and right now she couldn’t muster the energy to care.

  “MAX!”

  Ivy broke into a run when she saw her brother sitting on the bottom step of her porch. He was on his feet, enveloping her in his own hug, within seconds. “You scared me, pop tart.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Ivy growled.

  Max tilted her face back so he could study it, the unmistakable sign of dried tears on her cheeks throwing him. “Did he … ?”

  “He never got his hands on me,” Ivy said, her voice cracking. “I … I left you here. I made him chase me into the woods. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Do you think I’m going to be mad at you for keeping us both alive?” Now Max was the one struggling to hold back tears. “You saved us both, pop tart.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Okay.” Max pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Where is Jack?”

  “He’s coming,” Ivy said. “I hit Heath with a tree branch a couple of times. Then I kicked him. He … um … landed in a specific spot.”

  “What does that mean?” Brian asked, alarmed. “Is he seriously hurt?”

  “Not in the strictest sense of the word.”

  “I need you to be more specific, Ivy,” Brian said. “What exactly is going on?”

  Jack picked that moment to shove Heath out of the woods in front of him. The second Brian saw Heath, his mouth tipped up at the corners. “Is that … ?”

  “I remembered where the Poison Ivy was and purposely knocked him down there,” Ivy said. “I thought he deserved it.”

  “Why does Jack look so upset?”

  “I forgot to tell him what Heath was on before he cuffed him,” Ivy replied, her expression rueful. “It’s all over his hands again.”

  Max barked out a hoarse laugh, slinging an arm around Ivy’s shoulders as he watched Jack lead Heath to the waiting police car. “Do you have any lotion left?”

  “I made some more after he took the last bottle. I feel kind of bad. He ran after me and now … .”

  “He’ll survive, Ivy,” Max said. “He was a lot more worried about you than the Poison Ivy.”

  “It’s still my fault. It’s happened twice.”

  “Go get the lotion,” Max said. “He looks miserable.”

  By the time Ivy came back, Heath was leaning against the car and he was screaming about the “fire of a thousand suns” burning his skin. Ivy kept her lips pressed firmly together as Jack extended his hands and watched her squirt the lotion onto them. He rubbed his hands together, sighing as the lotion did its work and relieved the itchiness. All the while he never took his eyes off of Ivy’s face.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Ivy said. “I … are you okay? I’m so sorry this happened. Again.”

  “You don’t look sorry,” Jack said. “You look like you’re trying to keep yourself from laughing.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to say. I … .” When Ivy lifted her eyes to meet Jack’s she saw he was the one grinning. “You’re messing with me.”

  “Oh, honey, I wouldn’t ever mess with you.”

  The term of endearment tugged on her heart. It also brought her back to reality. “I guess I’ll be seeing less of you now that this is over.”

  “I guess,” Jack said, his voice low.

  “That’s probably best,” Ivy said. “There will be fewer … impulses.”

  “Yeah,” Jack agreed, his expression wistful. “I meant everything I said. I don’t have anything to give you. I really wish I did, though. I just … you deserve more.”

  “I don’t expect anything from you,” Ivy said. “You went above and beyond tonight. You … saved me.”

  “You saved yourself,” Jack countered. “You beat him. I just transported him.”

  “I’ll leave the lotion here,” Ivy said, taking a step back. The glassy sheen of her eyes was almost enough to bring Jack to his knees. “Put it on as often as you can.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  “What about me?” Heath whined.

  “You can suffer,” Ivy said, moving away from Jack without another glance. She squared her shoulders and headed toward the house. “I’ll find something to feed you, Max.”

  Max watched her walk into the house, and when she disappeared, he turned his attention to Jack.

  “That was disappointing,” Brian said, following Max’s gaze. “I thought for sure there would be some kissing or something.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Max said. “They’re nowhere near being done.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “Because they’ve spent time together now,” Max said. “They’ll be miserable without one another.” He clapped Brian on the shoulder. “There are just some things you can’t fight.”

  “And you think this is one of those things?”

  “I know it is,” Max said. “Take care of him. He looks morose. I’ll go handle my sister. Fifty bucks says they can’t go a week without seeing each other.”

  “You want to bet on your sister’s love life? That’s low.”

  “A hundred bucks?”

  “You’re on.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Jack studied Ivy through his windshield, watching as she stretched on the grass next to the basketball court. She was getting ready to go on a run, but he had different ideas.

  They weren’t good ones. He knew that. Three days without seeing Ivy was all he could take, though. He was opening a door here. Odds were that neither of them would be stepping through it today – but it was still a step.

  He just wanted to see her smile.

  Ivy lifted her head when she heard a door slam shut, her heart rolling with pleasure when she saw Jack striding toward her. He was clearly off duty if the shorts and T-shirt were any indications. He also had a basketball in his hand and a challenging look on his face.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to shoot a few hoops,” Jack said. It was a lie – but only a little one. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

  Ivy narrowed her eyes, suspicious. She wasn’t sure she believed him. “You’re going to shoot hoops alone?”

  “No,” Jack said. “You’re going to shoot them with me. I believe we have an outstanding bet. That’s what we decided, right?”

  “It is,” Ivy hedged. “I just … are you sure you want to do this?”

  Her meaning was clear.

  “We’re just playing basketball right now,” Jack said, serious. “I kind of thought we could shoot for a little bit, talk, and just … hang out.”

  Ivy tilted her head to the side, considering. Was that enough? She decided quickly. It was enough for now. This would give them a chance to get to know one another without too much pressure. “What do I get if I win?”

  “I thought you wanted me to weed your garden?”

  “I do,” Ivy said, hopping from the grass to the pavement. “I hate weeding.”

  “What do I get if I win?”

  “I’ll do all your landscaping for you,” Ivy replied, not missing a beat.

  Jack arched an eyebrow. “You will?”

  “I have good taste. You’re going to need me.”

  Jack grinned and bounced the ball to her. “You go first.”

  “I’m warning you that I’m really good.”

  “So you’ve told me,” Jack said. “Shoot.”

  Ivy lifted the ball and threw it up from beyond the three-point line, smiling as it swished through the net without touching the rim. “See.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Jack said, chuckling as he retrieved the ball. “You’re good at everything you do.”

  “I am,” Ivy agreed. “Tell me about Heath. What’s going on there?”
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br />   “He confessed,” Jack replied. “He says God made him do it, though, so he’s clearly going to try and use insanity as a defense.”

  “Will that work?”

  “Not likely,” Jack said. “This will take months – years maybe – to wind through the courts. You know you’re going to have to testify, right?”

  “I figured. I’ll be fine. I’m strong.”

  “You’re definitely strong,” Jack said, lining up his own shot and letting the ball go. He grimaced when it rimmed away.

  “That’s an H,” Ivy said, jogging over to retrieve the ball before moving to the right side and drilling another shot.

  Jack scowled. “I think you have home court advantage.”

  “Stop your whining,” Ivy chided, retrieving her own ball and handing it to him. “Tell me about Chad.”

  “That’s been shifted over to the state police,” Jack said, eyeing the rim and throwing up the ball. “Son of a … .”

  “That’s an O.”

  “Thank you, Ivy,” Jack said. “Anyway, Chad is in custody and the state police found the pot field. There are some human services groups working on finding a place for all the women to live.”

  “What’s going to happen to the compound?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Ivy moved to the free throw line and turned so her back was to the hoop. She used both hands to flip the ball over her shoulder, and when it swished through the net again Jack’s heart sank. He had a feeling he was going to be weeding her garden – although the idea wasn’t altogether unwelcome. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “I try,” Ivy said, smiling sweetly. “Your turn.”

  Jack grimaced. He knew there was no way he was going to make the shot, but he believed in being a good sport. He took up his position and tossed the ball over his shoulder. It was so wide it missed the backboard.

  “That’s an R.”

  “It’s an N,” Jack corrected.

  “We’re playing Horse,” Ivy said.

  “No, we’re not,” Jack said, grinning. “We’re playing Honey. Something tells me I’ve already lost.”

  Ivy arched an eyebrow. “You don’t know that. Somewhere down the line, you might think you’ve won.”

  “I’m looking forward to that,” Jack said.

  It didn’t surprise him to find that he honestly was looking forward to it. For now, baby steps were enough, though.

  Wicked Dreams

  An Ivy Morgan Mystery

  Book Two

  Lily Harper Hart

  One

  Jack Harker’s smile was one of those things that made Ivy Morgan’s heart go pitter-patter at odd times.

  This was one of those times.

  “You look pretty, honey,” Jack said, reaching over to brush her dark hair, which was shot through with bright streaks of pink, away from her face.

  “Oh, this old thing,” Ivy teased, glancing down at her maxi skirt and tank top. She owned her own plant nursery, so her wardrobe choices were all her own. She didn’t have a work uniform, but if she did, this was the closest thing to it. Almost everything in her closet resembled her current ensemble.

  At five-foot-seven, Ivy was relatively tall for a woman. Jack still towered over her, his body a protective mass of muscle and strength that often tilted her over into schmaltzy fantasies. It was a recent development, and one she wasn’t particularly proud of. That didn’t stop her from doing it, though.

  Ivy lifted her hand and touched Jack’s cheek, rubbing her thumb over his strong jaw. “You’re pretty, too.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m not pretty,” Jack said, cupping her hand with his and holding it in place. “Men aren’t pretty. I’m manly and handsome. Get it right.”

  One of the things Ivy liked most about Jack was that he wasn’t too serious. As a police officer, he was dedicated to his job – and he had a haunted past that he didn’t want to talk about – but when interacting with her, he was often playful and always charming.

  He was also bossy, but since that was a trait they shared, Ivy could live with it. They bossed each other around, argued incessantly, and fought off enough sexual tension to fill a stadium.

  They were just friends, she reminded herself. Jack was upfront with her when they met. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. Of course, that didn’t mean he could stay away from her. So far he’d helped her uncover a murderer, played a rousing game of horse on the basketball court (which he lost), and found several reasons to stop in at Morgan’s Nursery for landscaping ideas related to an ongoing restoration project at his new house. Every interaction was fun and sexually charged. They’d also been chaste.

  She wasn’t looking for a relationship either. Well, that was the mantra she repeated over and over in her head on a daily basis. She was a witch, after all. She was odd, loudmouthed, obsessive, and often irrational. She wanted to live her life in a specific way, and if people didn’t understand that, she didn’t have time for them.

  A bonafide city boy, Jack never flinched at the whispers and stares that followed Ivy around town. He didn’t care that she identified as a spiritual naturalist. He didn’t care that she preferred to lose herself in books rather than strutting around Shadow Lake, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it tiny hamlet in northern Lower Michigan, like she was some sort of modern fashion plate. He even embraced her belief in magic without making fun of her or casting sidelong glances when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  He was perfect in almost every way – and yet they were still treading water and just “hanging out” when the mood struck. Jack couldn’t get over his past, and Ivy was too frightened to look toward a future.

  So how did they end up here?

  “The sun is setting,” Jack said, tightening his grip on Ivy’s hand and pointing toward the top of the tree line. The sky looked like it was on fire.

  “The sun set four hours ago,” Ivy said, sighing. “We’re in a dream.”

  “You know you’re in a dream?” Jack asked, lifting a dark eyebrow.

  “Don’t you?”

  “No,” Jack said. “I think it must be your dream. I’m just here to be eye candy. That must be my job in your subconscious.”

  Ivy snickered. “You’re good at your job.”

  “I am,” Jack agreed. He glanced down at her, his molten chocolate eyes serious as they studied her expressive face. “I wish you were this … settled … when you’re awake. I like you this way.”

  “What way is that?” Ivy asked.

  “Relaxed.”

  “I’m relaxed in real life,” Ivy scoffed. “You just think I’m not because whenever we’re around each other, I keep imagining you naked and it makes me snarky.”

  Jack barked out a coarse laugh. “I can’t believe you admitted that. Just for the record, though, you’re not fooling anyone. I know what you’re thinking when you look at me.”

  “How?”

  “Because I’m thinking the same thing,” Jack said.

  “Well, I guess it’s good this is a dream,” Ivy said, resting her head against his shoulder and staring out at the setting sun. “I can say whatever I want.”

  “You can say whatever crosses that weird little mind of yours when you’re awake, too,” Jack said, his hand drifting up and enveloping her back so he could hold her close. “I like it when you say whatever you want. Most of the time, it’s funny.”

  “Maybe I should be a comedian.”

  “You can be the wickedest comedian witch in the Midwest,” Jack teased.

  “I think you’re making fun of me,” Ivy said, jutting her lower lip out.

  “I would never make fun of you,” Jack said, cupping her head and holding it still so he could gaze into her eyes.

  “You always make fun of me,” Ivy countered, her mouth running dry due to the proximity of Jack’s beckoning lips. “I … um … what are you doing?”

  “It’s a dream, Ivy,” Jack said, lowering his mouth to hers. “I can do whatever I want.”

  IVY bolted upright i
n her bed, her heart pounding and her stomach rolling as the filmy headiness of the fantasy landscape slid aside to make way for the early morning sun wafting through her bedroom curtains.

  It was a dream. She knew that while she was having it, and yet it was still disappointing to wake up right when she was getting to the good part.

  The black cat on the bed next to her opened one eye and glared, annoyed to have his morning slumber so rudely interrupted. Ivy stroked his soft fur. “I’m sorry I woke you, Nicodemus.”

  If cats could roll their eyes, Ivy was sure that’s what Nicodemus was doing. It was almost as if he knew what she’d been dreaming about.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Ivy said. “I’m allowed to dream. I still don’t want a relationship. Jack doesn’t want one either. We’re just … friends.”

  Nicodemus didn’t look like he believed her.

  “We are. Stop looking at me like that.” Ivy climbed out of the bed, leaving the cat to his judgmental morning sojourn, and padded toward the shower. She was already up – even though her alarm clock wasn’t set to go off for another half hour – and she figured now was as good of a time as any to start her day. Spring was in full swing in Shadow Lake, and that meant the nursery would be bustling with garden enthusiasts. A steady clientele was exactly what Ivy needed to put her dreams of Jack Harker where they belonged: in the back of her mind.

  Now she just had to convince her heart to agree with her mind.

  “I NEED a tree that takes zero work.” Charlotte Jones was a Shadow Lake lifer. She’d been born in the small hamlet forty years before, and she had every intention of dying there. She’d recently built her dream house with her husband, and now they were ready for the landscaping step.

  “Most trees don’t take a lot of work after the first few weeks,” Ivy said. “What kind of tree do you want?”

  “One that doesn’t take any work,” Charlotte said.