Keenan shifts in his seat, the barest hint of red on his cheeks. “We’ve made some progress on the case, which is why we’re here.” The Chief sits back in his chair and waits for the detective to continue. “I’ve been looking into Moira’s past and found some inconsistencies concerning the night Scott Harrison was murdered. She agreed to have a memory blocker search her mind, which was where we were this morning.”
The Chief glances at me. “And did they find anything?”
“She unlocked a memory of Jonathan Hayes using persuasion on me to kill Scott.”
“Which leads me to believe Moira was the Phoenix’s first victim,” adds Keenan.
“So you were persuaded to murder your master?” I nod, and the Chief fidgets with his mustache. “Why was this never questioned before?”
“I suppose that’s my fault.” I feel both men’s eyes on me and try not to squirm beneath their scrutiny. “I didn’t exactly deny it.”
Keenan’s face tenses, but I quickly speak before he has a chance to argue with me. “Don’t look at me like that. You know as well as I do that if I had it wouldn’t have mattered. My hand held the knife that killed Scott, and then I escaped afterwards. It wouldn’t have mattered that Jonathan persuaded me. You all would have hanged me just like Rachel.”
“Unfortunately, she’s right,” says the Chief, standing. “Alright, let’s go arrest this bastard. Moira, you stay here.”
I abruptly stand, remembering the agony of being left out when they had searched for Keenan. “Absolutely not. I’m going with you.”
“Moira–”
“I think she should be allowed to come along,” interrupts the detective.
I look gratefully toward the detective. “Yes, listen to him and bring as many constables as you can as well. I’m positive Jonathan is the Phoenix.”
This time it’s Keenan who speaks my name in warning. “Moira–”
“Just listen to me. It makes sense. The Phoenix is clearly an empath who has access to various people. The only empath that fits that description is a blocker. And I don’t think he’s trying to get rid of the Elite, because that would be impossible. Every time someone dies, they keep electing someone new to fill the space.”
“Which means the only way he’d succeed is by replacing them,” says the detective, tapping the side of his chair thoughtfully.
“Exactly. Josephine is an empath, the first to be elected as the Pleasure House Instigator. The new instigator at the memory house is Mr. Johnson, a Naemalian–”
“And the Dream House Instigator is Mr. Hayes.” Keenan’s sharp gaze focuses on me, and he has followed my train of thought. “Do you think he knows?”
The Chief, on the other hand, has yet to comprehend what I’ve said. “Who?”
I recall my last visit at Mr. Hayes’s estate. The way Jonathan had spoken to his master makes me believe Mr. Hayes isn’t aware his blocker is the Phoenix. He’s most likely being used like every other person, unknowingly aiding Jonathan in his schemes.
“It’s a possibility, but I’m more inclined to think he’s being manipulated just like the other victims.”
Keenan narrows his eyes, his thoughts immediately growing suspicious. “Is that something you concluded upon one of your visits?”
I raise my chin. “Yes, as a matter of fact it is. I would have told you about it earlier, but you were too busy ignoring me.”
Keenan’s expression hardens, and he stops rapping on his chair. “I doubt I’d be interested in hearing anything that transpired between you two. In fact, I’m positive.”
I open my mouth, prepared with a remark, but the Chief sighs heavily in exasperation.
“What are you two going on about?”
Keenan clears his throat and stands. “Nothing. It’s not important right now.” He turns to regard me coolly. “Are you driving with me?”
“Of course.”
“Then we should leave now.”
The moment we exit the office, the Chief orders several constables to follow him. I smile when one of them turns out to be Rick. The crowd from earlier has left, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Hopefully they stay away forever, especially since we’ll be arresting Jonathan. Rick climbs into the back of the detective’s vehicle, automatically tagging along with us. Keenan doesn’t seem to mind, but I doubt he even notices. I can still smell the jealousy that lingers around him, as well as the suspicion he tries to hide. The time I spent with Mr. Hayes still bothers him, even though I’ve made it clear I won’t see the Elite member again.
Rick leans forward in his seat. “Where are we heading?”
“We’re going to arrest Jonathan Hayes. He’s–”
“We believe he’s involved in the Phoenix investigation,” interrupts Keenan, glancing at me in irritation.
He doesn’t want me to divulge any other information until a blocker has read Jonathan’s mind—a rule I keep forgetting. The moment we enter ward twenty, my foot begins to bounce in anticipation. There’s not a doubt in my mind Jonathan is the Phoenix, especially now I know he had used persuasion on me. So to say I’m excited is an understatement. In a few minutes, the blocker will be arrested and locked in the underground prison where he belongs. Then, the Phoenix case will be closed.
And then I’ll be free—or at least as free as anyone like me can be.
Keenan pulls up in front of Mr. Hayes’s estate and turns to me. “Try not to mention anything about the case, Moira.”
“I promise.”
The Chief and the other constables walk ahead of us, and I suppress the urge to catch up to them. When we reach the door, the Chief knocks and everyone falls silent. The butler answers the door, his eyes widening in astonishment, but he manages to keep collected as he ushers us in. Mr. Hayes steps into the foyer with a pleasant smile on his face, fooling everyone. Only I can feel the fury boiling beneath the surface of that amiable disposition. When his eyes find me, I’m reminded of the time we spent in his bedroom and the harsh way I refused his last invite. His hospitable exterior wavers and the heat of his frustration intensifies, informing me he was offended by my rejection.
Mr. Hayes nods at us politely. “Good afternoon, constables. What seems to be the problem?”
The Chief steps forward to address the Elite member. “I apologize for the interruption, but we’ve come for Jonathan.”
“My blocker?” He’s genuinely surprised. “Is he in trouble?”
“We have evidence that proves his involvement in the Phoenix case, so we’ve come to arrest him. Is he here?”
Mr. Hayes gestures down the hall. “Yes, he’s in my study.”
The Chief and the constables walk down the hall to arrest the man, leaving me alone with Keenan and Icarus. The latter man’s gaze narrows, simultaneously wondering why we’re here and why I’ve rejected him. Meanwhile, the former man is as stoic as ever. His previous jealousy and annoyance is carefully reigned in, and his expression remains calm. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay in their presence, but thankfully Icarus breaks the uncomfortable silence.
“What evidence have you found?”
The corner of Keenan’s eye twitches, the only sign of his irritation. “You know we can’t discuss that.”
“I suppose not.” He turns his attention to me, and his expression becomes a little less hostile. “Moira.”
“Mr. Hayes.”
His frown deepens. “I see we’re back to formalities.”
“It only seems proper.” I hope my voice carries the apology I can’t voice out loud.
Icarus’s eyes flicker to the detective briefly. “I would have thought we were beyond proper, especially after the things we’ve done in the privacy of my bedroom. I was under the impression you enjoyed my company and that we would continue our arrangement. Was I wrong?”
My cheeks flush, and the memory of his hands on me flashes in my mind.
“I believe Moira has been quite clear,” says Keenan, stepping a little closer to me.
I im
mediately glance up at him, surprised he would actually say that. His eyes are hard and unyielding as they stare at Mr. Hayes, and anyone who isn’t an empath could see the unspoken challenge in them. I’m reminded of something Keenan had once said to me. In every situation, there is the dominant and the submissive. Whether or not he realizes it, the detective is attempting to assert his dominance over Icarus. If the latter man backs down, then he becomes the subservient one. I glance between the two men, wondering where that leaves me. A piece of scrap to be fought over? What an unpleasant thought.
“Yes, I believe she has been very clear,” says Icarus, glancing at me one last time before hiding back behind his usual amiable exterior.
The Chief and the other constables appear, tugging along Jonathan between them. The blocker’s icy stare immediately falls on me, and I suppress an unpleasant shiver and wrap my arms around myself. His eyes absorb my defensive posture, and his lips curve up maliciously. Even though he’s in handcuffs, it’s obvious who the dominant one is between us. The idea infuriates me more than the notion of me being a piece of meat fought over between Keenan and Icarus, and I force myself to lower my arms at my side and plaster on a wicked smile of my own. He takes my new expression in stride, and his grin widens. Is there any winning when it comes to this man?
Before I can stop myself, I find my mouth opening of its own volition. “I wouldn’t be smiling if I were you.”
Jonathan feigns bewilderment. “No? And why is that, sweet, sweet, Moira?”
“The obvious reason.” You bastard. “You’re going to be spending a lot of time in prison. It’s not a vacation. Trust me. I’ve been there.”
His gaze lowers to encompass my entire body. “You could have fooled me. Here you stand before me, alive and well.” He looks at Keenan and Icarus, and his pleasure vanishes, his lips twisting in obvious revulsion. “And still a whore.”
“You asshole!” I snarl.
I don’t realize I’ve moved until I’m fighting against Keenan’s arms. I immediately stop resisting him and relax in his grasp.
“Moira, stop. He’s only taunting you.” Keenan turns to the Chief, while still restraining me. “Get him out of here.”
The Chief orders the constables to usher Jonathan outside and into the police vehicle. Rick hesitates, clearly wondering if he should leave or stay. The detective nods his head in the door’s direction, and Rick hastily obeys, mumbling a quick goodbye to Mr. Hayes. Keenan finally releases me and addresses Icarus, no longer challenging the other man.
“We appreciate your cooperation and will inform you of any progress.”
Mr. Hayes nods slightly. “Of course, I would never dream of interfering in police matters.”
I stare at them in bewilderment, my rage gone as quickly as it had arrived. Beneath their compliance remains guarded hostility. I find their fake manners unbearable. Thankfully, Keenan gestures for us to leave.
The moment we exit Mr. Hayes’s house, I turn to Keenan. “Are we heading back to the police station? I have a few more words to say to Jonathan before one of your blockers reads his mind.”
“No, we’re going back to my place.”
“Why? What about Jonathan?”
Keenan approaches me, stopping me from climbing into the motor vehicle, and gently grabs my shoulders. “Moira, you’ve had a traumatic morning. The Chief will have their blockers read Jonathan’s mind. All we can do now is wait.”
I close the distance between us and lean against his chest, the top of my head neatly falling beneath his chin. We haven’t so much as kissed since the day he found out about Celeste, and I’m craving any sort of physical contact I can get from him. The past couple of days we’ve slept together in his room—with our clothes on, of course—but the closest we’ve come to touching is when he hugs me from behind. I’ll admit I’ve been silently wishing for more, but I can wait until he’s ready. Some things are worth waiting for.
I inhale his scent, surprised there’s only a faint trace of smoke. He wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my cheek softly, despite the fact we’re out in public. The small gesture brings a flutter to my stomach, yet I pull away. I simply don’t wish to stand in front of Mr. Hayes’s estate any longer.
“I suppose I can wait.”
He lifts a brow. “Are you sure? You’re not exactly the patient type.”
“I can be when I put my mind to it.”
“Perhaps you need a distraction.”
I frown, wondering what he has in mind. “Do you have any suggestions?”
A glint of playfulness flickers in his eyes, and he holds out his hand to help me into the vehicle. “Of course.”
I take his hand, and glance up at him uncertainly, waiting for him to continue. One side of his lips curves upward, revealing his dimple. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him smile, and the expression sends another nervous flutter in the pit of my stomach. But it’s not only the sight of him happy that has me reacting in such a way. A lot of it has to do with the hint of mischief in his eyes, the promise of bare skin and lingering kisses.
He presses his lips softly on the top of my hand, and his gaze flickers from my blue eye to my hazel one before he finishes his thought. “Me.”
I beam at him, remembering the time I had suggested he needed a distraction.
“In that case, you’re already proving to be a great distraction.” When I speak, my cool composure cracks and I smile.
Keenan brushes his fingers briefly against my face. “I assure you that you haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“No, it’s a promise.”
17
It’s been four days since Jonathan was arrested, and we still haven’t heard any word yet from the Chief. We don’t know if a blocker has managed to get past Jonathan’s barriers and, if so, whether or not they’ve found anything. The good news is it’s already two days into the month of May and there hasn’t been a murder yet. Since Richard Anderson was killed the first of April, the detective and I assumed the Phoenix was no longer killing on the seventh of each month. I’d like to think my assumptions were correct and Jonathan is, indeed, the Phoenix. Keenan, on the other hand, is cautious as usual. As much as he wants the case solved, he won’t rest until there’s proof.
The past couple of days have been agonizing as we wait to hear from the Chief. True to his word, Keenan has been a great distraction. Yet not in the way I imagined. We’ve kissed several times, but nothing more. Each touch sets me more on fire, and I don’t know how much longer I can resist the building pressure. My desire to be with Keenan has surpassed the physical impulse that had led me to Icarus, and this need frightens me. With the possibility of the investigation coming to a close, where does that leave us?
The feathery touch of a kiss on my shoulder startles me, but not as much as the feel of Keenan’s hands sliding down my arms. We’ve just recently woken up and, like every morning, he stands behind me to tie up my corset. But instead of pulling away afterwards, he remains behind me, kissing my neck in a very distracting way. When his hands trail beneath my chemise, I moan and lean against his bare chest.
I can be patient.
He turns me around, and I only have a moment to see the desire in his eyes before his lips are on mine. I inhale deeply and press myself into him, relishing in the feel of his erection against my stomach. At first, I’m hesitant, careful to keep my longing restrained. But then his mental barriers crumble with slow precision—a clear invitation—and the ticking sound of the clock has never sounded sweeter. Oh, who am I fooling? I’ve never been the patient type in all my life.
I deepen the kiss and lead us back toward the bed. The back of my legs hit the edge, and we fall onto the mattress. His body is a glorious weight pressing upon me, even if it does leave me a little breathless. My hand creeps between us to unbutton his pants, and I attempt to push the clothing down to expose the length of him. I lift my hips to meet him, anxious to feel his bare skin against mine, but he
lifts away from me. He looks down at me, the corners of his lips curving up in pleasure.
“Are you in a hurry, Moira?”
Instead of admitting I don’t think I’m capable of waiting any longer, I appeal to his adherence to punctuality. “No, but we are expected at Rick’s house.”
“They can wait.”
Perhaps, but I don’t think I can.
Before I have a chance to respond, he turns me over so I’m lying on my stomach. He begins the slow, agonizing process of untying my corset when I wish he’d just leave it on. Each pull elicits the sound of thread sliding through fabric, the faint noise sending a chill through me. I moan, biting down on my protest, and patiently wait until he’s finished. His lips press against my back in tantalizing kisses, while his hand slides down my spine. When he slips between my thighs, I try not to squirm as his thumb glides inside me, while his other fingers circle around my clitoris. I lift my hips off the bed, wanting more, but he stops and turns me onto my back. He removes my corset and chemise, the fabric brushing over my raised nipples, and then slips out of his pants.
His eyes rake over me, and I’m filled with a nervousness I can’t explain, nor understand. It’s as if it’s our first time exploring each other’s bodies, and my stomach flips with anxiety. He kneels onto the bed, intently holding my gaze, as his hands slide slowly up my thighs. With his touch, he tells me I’m beautiful. His thoughts chase away my unease, and my body relaxes and responds to his desire.
He lifts a questioning brow. “Still in a hurry?”
I clutch the sheets at my sides, my heart racing erratically. “I can be persuaded to take my time.”
He smiles before he lowers his head and plants a trail of kisses along my inner thigh. When he creeps farther up, I moan and arch my back. His lips and tongue find my most sensitive part on my body, sending a wave of pleasure through me. It doesn’t take long before he’s persuaded me, and I close my eyes, relishing in the pleasure building inside. His finger slips inside, and I cry out and shudder beneath him as his tongue and lips continue to tease my clitoris. I’m still trying to catch my breath when he creeps up and slowly slips his erection inside me. He pauses, the feel of my wet and warm embrace tightening around him sending him close to the edge. He lifts one of my legs and presses himself deeper with a breathy groan, and I catch his face between my hands and kiss him. I enter his mind and trace my fingers along the gears while still kissing him, adding more pleasure to the one he’s already experiencing. He moans and fists the blanket by my head before he finally spirals into his release.
The Pawn of the Phoenix (The Memory Collector Series Book 2) Page 21
