“Something’s going on, dammit. I’m not an idiot.” He grumbled like a caged animal, and she imagined he was pacing like one too.
Alexandra sighed. She needed to detour his suspicions a little longer without making the poor man completely neurotic. Dylan wasn’t ready for a reunion with his big bro yet, and she wasn’t sure Zach was in the right place either. She snapped her fingers as an idea came to her. “All right, Zach. Don’t tell Hannah I said anything, okay?” She’d have to call Hannah and let her in on this jewel of a decoy. “You have a birthday coming up in a month, right?” She knew this only because it had been part of Hannah’s argument for finding Dylan. Hannah hadn’t wanted Zach to go another year without mending things with his little brother.
“Yeah. How do you know that?”
“Think about it, boss. Your birthday is coming up. Hannah’s being secretive.” Boy, she hoped he took the bait soon. She needed to get him off the phone.
“She’s doing something for my birthday?” He sounded surprised, and as pleased as a kid on Christmas.
“Bingo. And she called me last night so we could talk about planning a party. You will deny all knowledge of this. Got that?”
“Well, yeah. I guess. You guys are really throwing me a party?”
She rolled her eyes. Men. They could be so easy to manipulate. “Zach, I’ve got to go. Don’t tell Hannah I said anything, okay?”
He sighed. “Thanks, Alexandra. You’re a good friend.”
Why did he have to go and say something like that, making her feel as guilty as a loyal pup sitting beside the poo she’d left in her owner’s shoe? Yes, she and Zach had become friends. Kind of. That’s partly why she’d agreed to help Rebecca and Hannah find Dylan, but crap. Now they really were going to have to try to throw him a party.
Alexandra hated parties.
A click signaled the door opening behind her, and she spun around quickly, her eyes widening when Dylan stepped into the room, all hot and brooding.
“Er, thanks, boss. Sorry, but I really gotta run.” She pressed END and stepped forward. “So, are we done for the day or do you have some more things you want to throw at me?”
Crap. Did she look as nervous as she felt? That had been a close call. Literally.
Dylan’s gaze moved from the phone in her hand and looked her up and down. “You in a hurry to leave? You meetin’ someone or something?”
“I sure as hell hope so.” She reached for her jacket and purse and arched a brow at him. “I’ve got a hot date with the drive-through guy at McDonald’s. Or did you forget we skipped lunch?”
He pushed a hand through the hair at his forehead. “Sorry.”
She shrugged, because it really wasn’t a big deal. She’d worked with enough cops to know that a few skipped meals were usually the last thing on their minds when working a case like this. She fingered the manila folder on the table. “Could I take a copy of one of the pictures? I’ll bring it back tomorrow. Maybe I can try to get some more impressions of this killer. I don’t know, Dylan. Something about him really scares me.”
He moved closer, so close that the scent of musk and sandalwood teased her senses. “What do you mean? How does he scare you?”
She forced herself to focus on the contents of the folder and not on him. He was too distracting. Of all the men in the world, why did this one send her brain to mush with only a glance? “He seems dangerous. I think he enjoys killing, and I think he’ll do it again. Soon. I don’t think he’ll wait another month.”
His hand stopped hers from lifting the photo from the table. A zing of awareness shot from her fingers up her arm and warmed her in places she hadn’t realized were cold. Their eyes met and held. If he moved just a few inches closer, his mouth would be near enough to—
“I’ll go make a copy.” His breath was hot against her face.
She leaned against the table for support after he moved away. A cold shower. That’s what she needed. And a few hours alone, in her hotel room, to get her wits about her again.
It had been a heck of a day. She deserved a little relaxation time.
Dylan wandered back in. He had managed to shrug into his jacket in the time he’d been gone. He handed her a paper copy of the photograph. Not ideal, but she could work with it.
“Why don’t you let me buy you dinner?” His blue eyes had softened, that cocky grin was back on his face, and just like that he morphed from skeptical cop back into Mr. Delicious.
Oh dear.
Tell him no. Tell him NO, Alexandra.
“Okay.” She mentally face-palmed herself, but her brain and her mouth had reached an impasse. “I’m starving. Where do you want to go?”
“You’ve got a car?” When she nodded, he put his hand on her back and gently pushed her forward. “I’ll follow you to your place, and then we can walk to it.”
Intrigued, she found herself moving forward without arguing. She had the distinct feeling he was up to something, but that could be a bad call. He might only want to unwind a little himself. It would offer her a good chance to get to know him better, for Zach’s sake, of course.
Now she just needed to decide if letting him unwind in her bed again was a good idea. For anyone.
***
The evening air was cool as a breeze blew against Dylan where he stood waiting on Alexandra to get out of her rental car and join him.
Fall in Charleston was one of the best times to visit in his opinion. Sure, he’d grown up in hot-as-hell Louisiana, but he’d never been one for the beach or for hot weather. Even so, when it was sunny here, the seventy-degree temperature in October was perfect. He smelled rain on the wind and figured it would blow in soon. Maybe his idea to walk down to Poogan’s Porch was a bad one. He didn’t want them to get caught in a downpour on foot.
“Ready when you are,” Alexandra said, hurrying up to his side.
He glanced at the sky and made a decision. “This way,” he gestured and began walking. Why the hell was he doing this again? Right. To get to know her better and figure out if she was in danger from this madman or working with the killer somehow. He honestly couldn’t fathom that she was an accomplice, but he almost preferred that idea to her being in danger. It nibbled at his nerves to imagine anyone threatening this woman. No idea why he cared so much. He barely knew her.
“You’ve had an eventful day,” he said to make conversation and smiled, because it was true.
“No kidding. Been there. Done that. Let’s not do some of it again, okay?”
“Which part can we do again, ‘cause I kind of enjoyed some of it.” Damn. Why had he said that when he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to flirt with her? She was a consultant. Off limits.
She puckered her lips and hummed. “Yeah, I say let’s avoid the morgue and that whole fainting at the sight of a dead guy part. Does that work for you?”
“Agreed.”
She hadn’t excluded sex, he noticed. Did that mean she was willing to have another go at it? His pants tightened at his groin and he quickened his step on the pretense of opening the door for her. He swallowed a curse. This was no good. He couldn’t trust himself around this woman. Half the time when he looked at her, all he saw was the way she’d stared up at him when she was underneath him. Her eyes had been dark and drugged with passion and—
He felt a tug on his jacket and turned toward her. She was pointing up at the building. “Seriously? We were just here last night.”
He forced memories of last night into the corner of his mind he rarely visited. “And you’ve got a problem with that? I come here most days after work.”
“Men.” She rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you live around here or something.”
“Or something.” He smiled.
“As long as the food is good, I’m game.” She brushed past him and moved inside, glancing around as if she were scanning the area for someone. His earlier suspicions wiggled back to the forefront. Did she know someone here? Was she afraid of being outed for something?<
br />
The hostess must have recognized her. The tiny blonde co-ed Dylan knew as Jane welcomed Alexandra back and asked if she was dining or wanted to visit the bar and billiards upstairs again.
“Two for the restaurant,” Dylan answered for her.
The last temptation he needed was a reminder of the sexually charged game of pool they’d played here last night. The first-floor restaurant was crowded but they snagged a table in the corner, which gave them a little privacy. A live jazz band was finishing a set on the makeshift stage on the other side of the room. He waited until they were seated to speak his thoughts.
“I’m surprised you opted to eat upstairs last night if it was your first night in town.” Maybe it hadn’t been, he thought. Maybe she’d been here before and he’d never seen her. He hung his jacket on the back of his chair and watched while she did the same before sitting.
She shrugged. “The hotel worker who recommended this place told me to eat upstairs for the harbor view.”
“What’d you think?”
“Of the view?” She gave him a slow once over. “Impressive.”
Now she was flirting back.
He was grateful for the interruption of the waiter who came to take their drink order. Alexandra surprised him by shutting her menu after barely giving it a glance, saying, “I’ll have whatever you’re having. You obviously know the menu.”
Dylan ordered them both burgers and sweet teas and sat back in his seat. The music was loud but not loud enough to discourage conversation.
“So tell me about yourself, Alexandra King. You’re from Atlanta, right?”
“Currently.” She leaned forward and met his gaze while her fingers toyed with a napkin.
“Where are you from originally?”
“I was born in Hawaii.”
“Hawaii?”
She smiled. “After that, we lived in Germany for a while, then Florida and California. We lived in Australia for a year when I was 10. That was awesome.” She snapped her fingers. “I did graduate from high school in Arizona. We lived there a few years. I went to college in Colorado and stayed there until I moved to Georgia about six months ago. What about you?”
The woman got around. “Born and raised in Louisiana. Moved here a couple of years ago.” The music got louder, so he leaned forward and raised his voice. “Were you a military kid or something?”
“Bingo. My dad was a two-star General in the Army. He’s retired now, so my parents are happily rooted back in Colorado, where they grew up together.”
“Ah, an Army brat.”
“Yes, I absolutely was, but my brother was more bratty. Trust me.”
“Is he older or younger?” He loved that she was feeding him information so willingly. If it was true, she was fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.
“Older by about five minutes, but I’m convinced all the mature genes stayed in the womb with me.”
“Five—?”
“We’re twins.” She held up her hand, palm toward him. “Before you ask, yes, Alexander and Alexandra, but we decided early on that was incredibly stupid, so he goes by his middle name, Matthew. No sense in two little Alexses running around causing chaos.”
“So is Alex your nickname?” He’d wondered if it was.
She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “Lexie. I prefer Alexandra. I think it makes me sound more sophisticated.” She smiled. “My brother’s friends turned me off the nickname in high school. They used to call me Sexy Lexie. After a while, it got old.”
“Most women would be flattered.”
“I didn’t enjoy being objectified.”
“So is your brother…?” He had trouble saying the word psychic.
She shrugged, following his hint. “He likes to pretend he isn’t, but yeah, he’s been known to see a few dead people now and then.”
“So being psychic is a genetic trait?” Good thing his own brother was a fraud.
Her eyes glanced toward the band and wandered. “Could be. My grandmother had ‘the sight’ as people like to call it.”
He considered her for several seconds. She licked her lips as she looked everywhere but at him. She seemed to lock onto something near the bar and stay, and she straightened a little in her seat. He thought she mouthed the word “Crap,” but he wasn’t sure. He followed her gaze but couldn’t peg what she’d seen. She slapped the table gently and focused on him again.
“What about you? Any brothers or sisters?”
He leaned away and sat back in his chair. “Older brother. We’re not close.”
“In age or—?”
“I haven’t spoken to him in a long time.” Why was he telling her this? He never talked about Zach to anyone. He usually told people he was an only child. It was easier, less messy.
“What happened?”
He shook his head. “Woke up one day when I was twelve and he’d left. End of story.” He gestured to her. “When did you first realize you were…” He still couldn’t say the word. It stuck in his throat like a bad piece of food.
She smiled and arched a brow at him. “Psychic?” The waiter appeared with their drinks, told them their food would be out in a few minutes, and disappeared again. Alexandra took a sip and leaned further across the table. “I think I always was. I would see people no one else could see. I never understood why they couldn’t. Sometimes Matt saw them, too, but no one else did. One time, my parents were worried my dad was getting a transfer order. They worried about it for days. I had a dream about my uncle who’d died the year before, and I woke up and told them what he’d said to me. ‘Yes, we’re moving to California in three weeks.’ My dad didn’t believe me. He said no one had even mentioned California as a possibility. A few days later, he got the call. We were being moved to San Diego.”
“How old were you?”
“Eight.”
She knew how to tell a good story. He’d give her that. He took a sip from his glass and sat it beside his right arm. “How did you get involved with the police?”
“What do you mean? They obviously heard how awesome I was and came beating down my door, wanting my help.”
“Really.” It wasn’t a question. He knew she was teasing.
“Of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “I kind of…well. Matt and I went to college in Colorado so we could be close to our grandmother. When I was a freshman, this girl—Amelia Cosby, she was a senior—went missing. There were flyers all over campus. It was on the news. I was looking at one of the flyers one day.”
“Did you know her?”
“No, but I’d seen her on campus.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Anyway, I could see exactly where she was as clearly as if I were there with her. I went to the police and—”
“You saw her in a dream or someone, meaning a dead person, told you where she was?”
“Exactly.” She nodded. “It was like a vision. Kind of like watching a movie play in my head. I’m sure someone close to her on the other side showed it to me. That’s usually what happens.” She speared him with a pointed look. “Stop interrupting me.”
His lip tugged up in a smile. “I’m a cop. It’s what I do.”
“Do it to someone else.” She narrowed her eyes then grinned. “So I told the police,” she continued. “I told them the area and the road she’d been driving on when she had her accident.”
“And they believed you?”
“Of course not. I called Amelia’s parents myself and told them too. I had to at least try. They were desperate, so they coerced the sergeant I’d talked to into checking the area. Good thing, too. She’d fallen asleep driving one night and gone over an embankment into some foliage so she was hidden from the road. When they found the wreckage, she was still alive, but barely. The news said later that another hour or two and she would have been dead.”
“Now that’s impressive.”
“Yeah, well. A couple months later, the same sergeant who’d refused to listen to me called and asked if I would take a look at another missing
person case. It sort of became a side job, helping him out every now and then. We eventually became friends. He told me I should give up on my accounting degree and use my real talents for a living, helping people. With hindsight, I could slap the crap out of him for that, cause I dropped out and have been living paycheck to paycheck ever since.”
“What’s his name?”
“Sergeant Byron Carter. Fort Collins, Colorado. You should have no trouble looking him up. I can give you other references if you want. It’ll make your background check go a lot faster.”
Feisty. He liked that.
Besides, she’d already given him a name. Amelia Cosby. Easy enough to fact check. He reached for his glass and stopped. It was gone. His gaze searched the table and found it sitting beside his left arm. He could’ve sworn—
He muttered a soft curse. He must have sat it there without realizing it. He needed sleep, and bad.
Alexandra’s eyes were sparkling with amusement, and she was biting her bottom lip, trying not to smile, when he returned his attention to her.
She sure as hell was sexy when she did that.
He’d needed this. Needed to relax and smile and just have an excuse to look at her while she talked. He’d be back buried in this case soon enough. He liked hearing her talk, even if he wasn’t convinced he believed half of it.
Her gaze seemed to be following someone as he or she moved behind him. The waiter? Good. His stomach was growling out a complaint. At least one part of his body would be satisfied tonight.
But no food was lowered in front of him. He spotted their waiter at a table a few feet away, so he glanced behind him to see who she’d been staring at.
No one he recognized.
“I have a confession to make,” she said, snapping his attention back to her. She sighed and grasped her glass between two hands. He noticed she’d barely taken more than a sip. Didn’t she like it? Looking at the table, she still nibbled at her lower lip. She needed to stop doing that.
Something Wicked: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense Page 7
