by D. N. Leo
He looked her up and down. “Madeline, did I …”
“No. I didn’t offer anything, and you didn’t take anything.”
He let out a sign of relief, and looked around the room, or what was left of it. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. But the furniture wouldn’t say the same.”
“I asked you to leave. Why didn’t you?”
“I thought you were going to turn into a werewolf, so I was curious,” she joked. “But I didn’t see any paws or fur. Plus, you needed a hugging pillow.” She shrugged.
Ciaran stared at her. He shook his head and smiled, but his eyes suggested a laugh on the inside. He tilted her chin up and gazed into her big brown eyes. He rubbed the dimple on her left cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry for what I said before.”
“What did you say? I can’t remember.”
“I have issues with my anger, Madeline. When the rage comes, I know I’ll say and do things I’ll regret. It rarely comes but when it does, I don’t have any control over it.”
“What about an anger management program?”
Ciaran laughed and shook his head. Once the laughter had died, his eyes were once again intense. “The problem isn’t psychological.”
She should have known. The energy of his fury was strong and primal. It came in waves, and it was so catastrophic that she saw it in her psychic mind. The weight of his grief blasted at her like an explosion. This was what Mrs. Hanson had talked about. It wasn’t Robert’s death but what came afterward. It wasn’t what the death had taken away but what the living carried with them. His grief was contagious, and now she was carrying the same baggage because of her psychic ability.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Starving.”
“Well, there’s an absolute feast in my room that used to be dinner. But given that it’s now three in the morning, I’d call it breakfast. Interested?”
Ciaran tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “I’d love to.”
Later on, after Madeline told Ciaran everything, he looked at her over the rim of the glass of red wine, contemplating, and smiled to himself.
“What?” Madeline asked.
“Regarding this Stephen character, have you ever considered giving him a chance?”
“To what?”
Ciaran chuckled. “He likes you.”
Madeline laughed. “Stephen is harmless!”
“Uhmm!” Ciaran smiled and said nothing, but made some kind of sound that Madeline was pretty sure meant he didn’t believe her.
“Don’t call Stephen a character—he’s a real cop!”
“I see! On that note, would you bring him into this later on?”
“Not if I could help it.”
“You meant if ‘I’ could help?”
Right. Madeline rolled her eyes. Egotistical clash of the male species. She said nothing, just smiled. She thought that would be best.
“Why don’t you tell Zen that I’m the White Knight? I can talk to him and make him believe me. Then we can arrange a fake John Dee’s tomb for him to dig up. When we’ve got him snug in our trap, we can politely hand him over to Stephen-the-cop and get Jo out of trouble.”
Ciaran plainly played out the strategy out loud while leaning back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass, and looking as if he was playing a harmless game of Monopoly.
Madeline said nothing. He made it sound so easy. Jo wasn’t the only one good at games, Madeline thought.
“Don’t like the plan?”
“Oh, yes, of course. It’s perfect . . . So you don’t think there’s a real John Dee’s tomb?”
“There must be one somewhere, but I’m not interested in his gold, nor do I have any desire to dig up a grave.”
“Zen is a computer game fanatic. You think you can make him believe you?”
Ciaran smiled. “I’m an excellent player.”
“Have you ever gotten into trouble with the police?”
Ciaran kept sipping this wine.
“Just a rhetorical question,” Madeline muttered and smiled, looking at Ciaran. Her prince had returned to his full, magnificent form, post-surgery. “What . . . what are you going to do about Robert?”
His face was unfathomable. “We’ll pay his family a visit.” He stood up to leave the room.
“I don’t think your room is inhabitable at the moment.”
“You slept on my bed before!”
“I didn’t. But you did.”
He nodded. “I’ll arrange another room.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Another hotel room?”
“We can come back to One Hyde Park. I’ve got it reserved for a couple of days.”
“A couple of days! Don’t you have a home? A permanent address?”
He gazed into her eyes. She couldn’t read his emotion. Whatever skills she’d obtained in her day job didn’t work on him. Her psychic ability gave her nothing but his contagious grief.
“I have a number of addresses. They’re permanent because they are mine. But none of them truly qualifies as a home. The apartment at One Hyde Park will do for a week,”
“Then what?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Then we’ll see.” Then he turned around and walked back to the mess he called his room.
Chapter 23
The lush carpeted corridor of LeBlanc Pharmaceuticals unfolded before Madeline as she walked alongside Ciaran to his corporate wing. People greeted him, some with a smile, some with words, and some with a courteous nod. But they all had one thing in common—respect. But it wasn’t respect based on the power and intimidation that money could buy. Madeline didn’t need her psychic ability to be aware of the aura around Ciaran. Something about him was insanely humane but yet distant and powerful at the same time.
She would be scared if she got on his bad side. None of the people here had seen his rage—she was sure of it.
The corridor opened to a reception area at the entrance where a large secretary’s desk was located. The secretary was busy on the phone when Ciaran and Madeline entered. At the corner of the room, Madeline saw the most gorgeous dog ever, fast asleep on the carpet on his back with four legs in the air. A bowl of dog food was tucked in the corner, and the most of the food had been spilled all over the carpet. Bags of extra food and toys were scattered all over the floor of the ‘dog quarters’.
“What we have here?” Madeline asked.
The puppy woke instantly as Ciaran approached. “He jumped into my car when I was stuck in a traffic jam,” Ciaran said as he crouched and reached his hand out to the dog. The puppy dove into Ciaran, wagging his tail in excitement and licking Ciaran’s hand. Ciaran frowned at the sign the puppy wore around his neck, which stated: “I am Ciaran’s dog. Please treat me nicely.”
That would explain all the food and toys the dog had. The smile faded from Ciaran’s face. He put the dog down and approached the secretary, who had finished on the phone.
“Ciaran,” she greeted.
Ciaran smiled. “Good morning, Lily. This is my friend, Madeline. I have some changes in my schedule. Could you cancel my meetings in France for the next couple of days? Ask Lindsay to address all questions.”
“Yes, Ciaran.” Lily typed quickly on the computer.
“And take the dog to the pound,” Ciaran said, wrapping his arm around Madeline’s waist to lead her to his office.
“Excuse me? Ciaran!” Lily asked.
Ciaran stopped on the way and turned around, “I said, take the dog to the pound. I don’t want to see it anymore.”
Lily’s eyes teared up. “Yes, Ciaran.”
When the office door had closed behind him, Ciaran went to the desk and made a call. Madeline sat down in a chair and waited. Ciaran finished the call.
“Would you like something to drink? I’ve arranged a car. We can go to Robert’s and then drop by Mortlake to visit Mrs. Hanson.”
Then he saw the look on Madeline’s face. “What, Madeline?”
“If you want Lily to adopt the dog, you should just ask her. I’m sure she will.”
Ciaran sat down at this desk. He didn’t smile, but his eyes twinkled.
He’s intrigued. Madeline smiled and patted herself on the back.
“I prefer flexibility.” He smiled now and stood up from his chair to move around to the other side of his desk. Her stomach quivered and spasmed at an alarming level. Then he stopped on his way.
The computer screen on his desk flashed and turned itself on. He frowned. Madeline stood up, came around to where he was, and looked at the monitor. The screen was filled with static symbols. It flashed once, twice, and then some text appeared. “It’s time, Ciaran. The enemies are nearby.” Then the screen flashed again and turned itself off.
Ciaran dove at the keyboard and typed frantically. For a while, he sank into his work and didn’t look up once. Madeline sat in the chair, waiting. Then he stopped, turned it off, and stared at the blank screen.
“Hacker?” Madeline asked.
He shook his head.
“So it’s internal then?”
He swivelled his chair around, looking at her. His intense gray eyes were darkened, but he said nothing.
“Police?” Madeline guessed. “Spy? Cyber terrorist? Fanatic? Serial killer?” Madeline had her hands on her hips. “Vampire? Witch? Werewolf? Angel? Or demon? Come on, Ciaran!”
Ciaran gazed at the computer screen. “Extraterrestrial,” he said.
“It’s . . . it’s from aliens?”
Ciaran approached the cabinet at corner of the room and opened it. He drew out a decanter of scotch, and poured it into a crystal glass. He gestured to ask if Madeline wanted some. She shook her head.
“You knew this? You weren’t surprised?” she asked.
Ciaran sipped the spirits and stared out the window.
“You said your rage wasn’t psychological. Are you—?”
“No, I’m human, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Madeline nodded. “Why did the aliens say I’m your enemy?” She raised her voice.
“What? No. They weren’t referring to you.” Ciaran put the glass down and walked around the desk to approach Madeline.
“It has to be me. Someone gave me a mysterious note. Then I ran into you. Then you got shot, and Robert got killed. Disaster. I can only bring you disaster.” A tear rolled down her face. “I have to leave.”
Ciaran blocked her at the door. He grabbed her shoulders and directed her back inside. He lifted her and sat her on his desk. Then he embraced her, hard. His arms were like a vice—there was no way she could wriggle her way out of his grasp. For a while, she could feel his muscles vibrating along with her emotions.
Then he released her. He kissed her forehead, lifted her chin up, and looked into her eyes. “You’re not my enemy, Madeline. I have many of them, and you’re not on the list.”
“I lied to you about the game hacking.”
He snorted. “You’re an amateur when it comes to lying, Madeline. I trust you, and I don’t trust people easily.”
“Why?”
“Because no one that I’ve taken to One Hyde Park before has ever noticed I don’t have a TV, and that the apartment wasn’t my home.”
She smiled.
“Not a single woman before you has ever noticed that the meals I served them were takeout. All they saw in that apartment was the shine and the attraction of money and power.”
She laughed. “Exactly how many girls have you taken there?”
He smiled. “And none of them have ever cared how many others I’ve taken there.” He kissed her lips lightly. “You know very well I could have forced myself on you last night. You know I could have done the unthinkable. Yet you stayed with me.”
He deepened their kiss, and her head started to spin. She spoke, her breath quickening. “Because you asked me . . .”
He roamed his hands up and down her arms. “What else?”
“You needed a hugging pillow . . .”
His hands were under her blouse. She pulled at his shirt, untucking it from his waist. “What else?” he asked.
“Because . . . you let a puppy into your car!”
He stopped kissing her and started laughing. When his laughter finally subsided to chuckles, he said, “I have many secrets, Madeline. A lot of them you’re better off not knowing. But if any of my secrets got you tangled up in my mess, I won’t let anything happen to you.” He tucked a stray hair behind her ear and rubbed his thumb on her dimple.
“So if all this wasn’t because of your secrets, I’ll be just another girl you took into your luxurious apartment?” She hopped down to the floor.
He grabbed her and put her back up on the desk.
“Without my mess, I’m sure I don’t have anything to hold you, Madeline.”
She frowned.
“You’re a very complicated woman.”
“It comes with the job.” She saw his eyes twinkle again.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he repeated.
“Same goes for me.” She hopped off his desk once again and strode toward the door. She didn’t look back, but she knew she had made his eyes twinkle again. She hadn’t intended to do that to impress him. But somehow, there was a rhythm in this thought and his emotion that she could tap into.
She felt him. And somehow, she knew he felt her, too.
Chapter 24
The town was charming, but she just felt something wrong was about to crash down on Ciaran and her. Ciaran parked his car in the yard of a cottage in Stow-on-the-Wold. The house was as cozy and charming as the ancient town in which it was located. Ciaran pushed the door open and walked straight into the house.
This used to be his home! Madeline thought.
A woman stormed out from the side room. She clung to Ciaran and sobbed. Ciaran embraced her and murmured something that Madeline knew was more than typical condolences. There was no formality between them. He held the woman tightly and said nothing until her weeping abated.
“This is my friend, Madeline Roux. Laurent Chandler, Robert’s wife.” Laurent Chandler was in her late thirties and quietly attractive.
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Chandler.”
Laurent smiled. “Laurent, it is! Would you like a cup of tea?”
Laurent led them to the room at the back of the house. The room was warm with candlelight. The winter sun didn’t shed much light into the room, particularly on a grim day like this. Robert’s coffin lay in the middle, and his picture stood quietly on a stand next to it. Robert Chandler was a sturdy looking man in his early forties. He looked formidable with a strong face, brown hair, and honest eyes. Ciaran stood still, looking at the picture. Beneath his calm expression was the unspeakable pain that Madeline understood.
Laurent came into the room with the baby in her arms. She gave her to Ciaran. He held the baby gently, kissing her forehead as if she would break like crystal. Then he gave the baby back to Laurent.
“Were you comfortable with Lindsay’s arrangements?” Ciaran asked.
Laurent looked at Ciaran. Her eyes were dry now and filled with the affection of a sister. “That was all Robert would have wished for. He’d be pleased. Doctor Thomas put through an official record of accidental death. Everything was handled smoothly. Thank you.”
“You thank me for this?”
“Yes. And Robert would thank you for what you’ve done for us.”
“I’ll find the answer, Laurent. I will find the answer for all of this.”
“Please don’t mix it with vengeance, Ciaran. Robert’s death was part of the job he took on with you.”
“He had no such duty, Laurent. There is no money in the world that could give his girl back her father, give you back your husband . . . and me . . . back my friend. Had I known . . .”
“You didn’t know, Ciaran. You didn’t know, and let’s keep it at that.”
Laurent looked at Madeline. Madeline couldn’t understand how a
newly grieving widow could have had such warmth in her eyes. If she knew it was me who had caused Ciaran to go to Fosse Way—and hence the death of her husband—would she still have that warmth in her eyes right now?
“Ciaran,” Laurent continued, “Robert would have been happy to see you open up for a new life. Ten years is enough to forgive.”
“But not enough to forget, Laurent. Never enough,” Ciaran growled and sounded as if he didn’t care the conversation to go further in that direction.
Just before Ciaran and Madeline left, she saw the blue dots hovering in the air. She wasn’t sure whether they hovered around her, Ciaran, Laurent, or the coffin.
She hadn’t told Ciaran about her psychic ability. Why were the blue dots hovering here? Madeline shook her head, trying to will the thought out of her head.
“What’s the matter, Madeline?”
“Huh?” she asked and realized they had left the house and now were standing in front of Ciaran’s car. She didn’t know where to begin to tell Ciaran about the blue dots.
Whenever she saw the blue dots, something unfortunate would happen.
Just let it slide for now, she thought, shook her head, and got into the car.
Chapter 25
The street was just the same as it was when Madeline had last seen it. Ciaran parked a block away from Mrs. Hanson’s cottage. Madeline knew he could park right at the front, but she had trained herself not to ask questions.
As soon as they entered the front yard of the cottage, Mrs. Hanson appeared mysteriously on the doorstep. Had she known they were coming?
“It’s good to see you again, Ciaran. What did this old woman do to deserve a visit?”
She stepped down from the steps to the lawn. Her weird earrings jingled, making an unpleasant sound with her every step. Madeline wished it would stop as it made her head ring.
The woman looked at Madeline. “I’m glad to see you again, too!”
“You know why we’re here, Mrs. Hanson. I know you’re disappointed to see her alive.”
