“Kiara? Wake up, Kiara.”
Eyelids struggled to open. Yup, a blurry Wilcox face loomed over me. “Stop… stop shaking…”
My eyelids gave up the pointless fight and slammed shut.
“Kiara?” Wilcox’s voice became more demanding. “I really need you to look at me, okay?”
“Why are you here? You weren’t here.”
“I’ve been here.”
“No… just Andrew. Emma.”
“Do you always have to argue with me?”
Mouth opened to give the perfect retort to his insulting question… except I passed out before those brilliant words could escape my lips.
Chapter 28
Stretching out on the lumpy cushions of my couch, I stared at the text message I’d received on my phone that morning. It was Saturday. Maude hadn’t even waited until Monday morning to shoot off two simple words.
You’re fired
For reals this time. A weekend text was apparently sufficient enough to complete the job—er, rather, sever the job in this case. Dropping the cell phone onto the floor, my eyelids closed.
Logic dictated my emotions ought to be experiencing horror from the news. Anxiety from the thought of unpaid bills. Humiliation from a firing.
Memories of every time I had jumped to do Maude’s bidding regardless of the hour should have left me feeling fury. I’d saved the woman’s business numerous times, and without me, she was going to fall smack on her face. And I… I was going to live with Aunt Kate. I couldn’t abandon Hellhound, and cardboard boxes simply weren’t his style. My aunt would understand.
Now I only had to inform her that she had a new roomie. Eh, it could wait until after the stash of Oreos was depleted, and the electricity got shut off… so another three days before I showed up on her doorstep with boxes. An apartment sale should be arranged to cover moving expenses. That’d be smart. Seriously, what of my belongings did I really need except clothing, shoes, and makeup? It was all junk… and there would be my problem when the time came to convince people to pay me actual money for them taking a three-legged lamp table supported by books about marine biology. I’d never taken a class in marine biology. The books had been in the dumpster outside a used bookstore. Not even the ninety-nine cents price sticker on their hardback covers had gotten them to sell, so they’d since lived a happy life identified as a table leg.
A knock on my front door made me groan. Not Mrs. Tidwell. Her screeching voice usually accompanied those poundings. Not the landlord, either. Rent wasn’t due for another two weeks. Dragging my lazy booty off the comfortable-enough-for-a-poor-person couch, I ambled to the door and pulled it open.
Wilcox.
He was back. Not a lot existed in the way of memories from the previous evening. I’d had a glass of wine with Brock. A large black hole danced the samba for the next few hours, and then I awoke. In bed. Wilcox watching over me… leaving as soon as he was assured I was all right. Except now he was back, and my brain was blaming the prior night’s scramble for not being able to contemplate what exactly his presence at my door meant.
Dark brown hair stuck up as if he’d continuously been running a hand through it. As I watched, he made another swipe over his short locks. Shadows coated the skin underneath his eyes—the same eyes whose gaze scrutinized me as he silently stood.
Thrusting a hip against the door frame, I crossed my arms. “Yes, Detective?”
“I came by to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” His eyebrow arched.
“Yes, I’m good.”
“What do you remember about yesterday?”
The biggest pet peeve of the dinner rolled off my lips. “You weren’t there.”
Wait… that hadn’t been my problem. Okay, perhaps noticing his absence when his partner had shown had struck a nerve, but I sure the heck wasn’t supposed to have admitted it.
“I was there. “Wilcox shifted on his feet, and his gaze drifted away before floating back up to meet mine. “Emma and Andrew were to keep an eye on you while I figured out who you were with, ran background checks, and watched for any suspicious activity from the restaurant staff.”
“My chaperones were too busy talking to notice… uh, wait. You said restaurant staff? Why were you suspicious of them?”
“After you mentioned Anna’s date, I went back and did follow-up questions about the other suicide victims. Family members or casual friends were never aware of a date or the victim seeing anyone new, but I found that usually a roommate or a close friend had known. Once I began asking the right questions, several people told me that on the night of their deaths, the victims had gone out to—”
“A cheap bistro. Well, Ryan had been a college student so that restaurant makes sense, but Brock could have afforded more.”
“Except the demon already had someone on the inside at Kaffee Nuevo who helped him with the women.”
There were vague memories of the waiter leading me into a bright light, but I was having problems recalling much past that point. I stared up at Wilcox. “I don’t get it. He was a demon. Why drug women and then stage suicides? There were all sorts of ways he could have killed a human. And how did Emma kill him? I mean, how did she do it in front of so many people?”
“You don’t remember?
My head shook slowly. “Not really.”
Wilcox’s jaw clenched into one of his irritated looks. “Emma or Andrew didn’t notice you leaving your table, and I wasn’t inside the building right then. We assume you’d intended to go to the restroom. Emma finally noticed you missing, and she went to check on you. When she discovered the restroom empty, she went into the kitchen.”
“That’s where I was.” Bright light. Clanging pots and pans. “The waiter was taking me out the back door.”
“Yes,” Wilcox said. “Unfortunately, neither Andrew nor I realized what was going on until we heard the scream.”
“The scream?”
“Brock, after the dagger pierced him.”
Damn. Why couldn’t I remember? My breath huffed out in a frustrated sigh.
“Hey?” He reached out and touched my arm. “You might get some of your memories back. Don’t push it.”
“Yeah, well…” I took a step away because the warmth of his hand made me want to move forward… until I was pressed tight against his chest. “Thanks for coming by, Detective, but—”
“Hold up, that’s not why I’m here.”
“You didn’t want to check on me?”
“I came to check on you, yes, but I didn’t stop by to discuss the demon.”
The intended plan of slamming shut my door and crawling back on my couch was postponed as I waited.
“I’ve been an ass, Kiara, and I’m sorry.”
“You’re only doing your job as my protector.”
“You’re not a job to me. Don’t think that.”
“I scare you.”
“Yes, you scare the hell out of me. None of it has anything to do with your powers or you being a partial demon—”
Try half.
“—I shouldn’t have tried pushing you away. Can you forgive me?”
I crossed my arms. “Normally, when a guy apologizes, he brings flowers.”
A smile twitched at the corner of kissable lips. “You’d kill any plant within twenty-four hours.”
“True.” Dang, the man knew me. “Chocolate would have been a nice alternative.”
“What if I’d brought something even better?”
My eyebrows rose.
Wilcox reached down and grabbed hold of a large bag I hadn’t noticed sitting off to the side. “Kiara, I confess. I’m not above bribing you when I screw up. Will you forgive me?”
I took the bag and noticed a weight to it. Peeking inside, I gasped. “You bought me a coffee maker?”
“Well, considering that you became excited over Andrew bringing you a single cup…”
“And it’s programmable?” I dropped the
sack and threw my arms around him. “Know that I’m not inviting you inside.”
Wilcox laughed. “That’s fine because we’re not going inside.”
“We aren’t?” I watched dumbfounded as the detective set the bag in my apartment and swiped my keys from the bowl on the three-legged lamp table. He then proceeded to lock my front door. My curiosity began showing signs of impatience. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
He grabbed my hand and led me from the building. A couple of blocks later, I had an idea of our destination.
“What’s at Tristan’s?”
Wilcox cut me a look but remained silent. When we entered Tristan’s building, he didn’t veer off toward the apartment door. Instead, I found myself stepping into the elevator. This journey must have been vampire approved because the detective had a badge to swipe, allowing access to the top floor.
It had been six days since I’d last stepped foot into that particular hallway, but already there was one noticeable difference with the space.
“Where’s the door leading out onto the roof?” I asked.
“Removed.” He tugged at my arm. “I don’t trust you and that door in the same vicinity. Come on.”
Any insult I ought to have felt with the announcement vanished as I stepped out into the cool, night air. The bleak open space I’d last encountered when fighting Tristan was replaced by grass, shrubs, and potted trees. All decorated with twinkling string lights. A rooftop garden. And it was beautiful.
Looking up at Wilcox, it took a moment for me to find words. “You did all of this? Today?”
“No, not today. Tristan and I have worked on it for most of the week. We never had our date, Kiara, and this time I don’t want to be interrupted.” Wilcox nodded to my left.
A cloth-draped table had been set up with unlit candles and covered dishes. Never had anyone done something so special for me, and my gaze flew back to meet Wilcox’s. “Thank you.”
“So I am forgiven?”
“Of course, you—”
My words were cut off by the press of his mouth. Not that I cared… because as the kiss deepened, there wasn’t a damn thing in the world except for him. That was, until the pricking nerves of being watched invaded the sensual bliss of being held in strong arms… being kissed so thoroughly that even my toes felt thrilling tingles.
With a reluctant sigh, I pulled back from Wilcox and glanced over to discover an Imp seated in my chair. Not just any Imp, the Imp. The one who had been stalking me and leading me into weird homes only to kick me back out in the literal sense.
“What’s wrong?” Wilcox asked.
“There’s a demon.”
His eyes scanned the rooftop.
“No, you can’t see him, he’s within the veil.”
The Imp’s lips pulled back in what I thought to be a grin. Nothing that ugly could pull off the real act of a smile. In a poof of black smoke, the demon vanished.
“He’s gone…”
Except my vision caught something he’d left behind. A letter lay on top of a white porcelain dinner plate. My name written above the seal.
“What does it say?” Wilcox stepped up behind me.
I glanced up from the words. “It’s a demand. We have his dagger, and he wants it. He’s willing to make a trade. The dagger for my mother’s pendant.”
“Who?”
“It’s signed Alaric.” But I knew him by another name. Red-Eyed Ghost. He was the human spirit who escaped the confines of Hell, and it was now our time to meet. I stared at the elegantly scripted handwriting and had only one thought.
Bring. It. On.
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Destined to Reap (Reaping Fate Book 3) Page 31
