And then, there were times when Cici’s absolute and utter coldness cut Ray so deeply she could barely breathe. She’d called her lover to tell her she had to cancel their date thanks to Druit, hoping for a mutual bitch fest to make her feel better.
“I really don’t have time for your whining today, Rachel.” Ray hated it when Cici used that tone. She sounded like her mother, Victoria. “Honestly, it’s your job. If you can’t handle it, maybe you should quit and find something easy to do.”
Ray had ended the conversation shortly after that, though spent the next twelve hours beating herself with the responses she should have given. They ranged from furious attack to begging Cici to forgive her and back again, driving Ray around the bend.
She’d never held on to a relationship this long before, usually casting aside her lovers within weeks, if not a single night. But there was something different about Cici, something that drove Ray to cling to her and never want to let go.
Didn’t help that only a half hour ago, just before she began the prep for this body, Cici sent a steamy and loving text as though no cruel words passed from her lips. Confused, full of craving for the woman she loved but feared at the same time, Ray found herself standing over the body of Malcolm MacIntosh, lost in thought, unmoving and trembling.
“Ray.” Richard’s gentle voice, hand on her arm, jerked her free. She smiled at him, wavering from behind her plastic safety glasses, knowing tears stood in her eyes and that he could see them clearly. She blinked them away.
“Sorry, just tired.” Ray looked up as the doors to the morgue opened and Gerri and Kinsey walked through together. For a brief instant, the medical examiner’s heart flashed to fury. Look at the two of them, smiling and chatting, heads together, happy. While she suffered alone. She knew it was irrational, shook off her reaction an instant after it triggered, but her heart ached from her feeling of loneliness even as she forced a faithful Ray smile.
“Just getting to your fellow,” she said as the pair came to a halt a few feet from the slab. “Don’t have anything new just yet.”
Gerri sipped a coffee she held in one hand. “We’ll wait.”
Her casual nonchalance tipped Ray over into anger again. “I’ll be a while,” she said, not meaning to be harsh, but knew her words came out that way. Gerri’s eyebrows raised, green eyes sparking while Kinsey stepped up, a smile on her face, the diplomat between the two spitfires.
“You look bagged, Ray.” Oh yes, that was helping. She knew Kinsey meant it sympathetically, but the last thing she needed was to be reminded she probably appeared to be three steps from lying on a slab herself.
“I’m fine.” Ray jerked free the sheet, picking up her scalpel as Richard turned on the recorder. “Beginning Y incision.”
Kinsey hovered, peering into the cavity, then sighed at the sight of his innards. There was a time she would have blanched, gone pale and sweaty, neared emptying her stomach. But, her familiarity with the morgue seemed to have acclimatized her to the dead.
“He has a heart.” Kinsey sounded disappointed.
Ray’s anger shed in that moment. Damn it, she needed to pay attention, do her job. She observed the moment of his death and shrugged to the anthropologist. “Sorry, he was human,” she said.
“I don’t have time to wait around for the results.” Gerri seemed huffy, for some reason. Like Ray was supposed to bump her case to the front of the line or something? She bit back a retort as the detective finished her coffee and tossed the cup into the recycle bin, exactly where it wasn’t supposed to go.
Ray watched her leave, the hard line to her body, the stomp to her step, and knew Gerri was pissed. Kinsey’s expression tried to apologize for Gerri’s behavior.
“Long night for everyone.” The blonde sighed, looked down at the victim. “He was a jackass, but no one deserves a bullet to the brain.”
Ray couldn’t care less, actually. That fact alone worried her and shook her loose from her mix of anger and resentment. She sighed deeply, wiping her suddenly damp forehead with the back of one wrist.
“Ray.” Kinsey circled the slab, came to her side. Ray turned to face her friend, so close to collapsing and telling the anthropologist everything she felt a sob rising in her throat. “Are you okay?”
She could have told Kinsey everything. It made sense. The blonde would understand. She was the most empathetic of the three of them. And despite the fact Ray knew Kinsey didn’t approve of her dating Cici out of loyalty to Gerri, she’d never judge Ray for anything.
Her phone sang from across the room, a happy tune Cici had programmed for her alone. Enough of a moment to break Ray out of her despair.
“I’m fine, really,” she said, knowing her accent was coming through thicker than usual. “I just need some sleep. Your professor and another body and I’m out of here. I promise.”
Kinsey didn’t seem to believe her, face troubled, but she finally left, waving to Robert who sighed at Ray as she focused on the body before her.
“You’re a stubborn idiot,” he said. “Druit’s work can wait for Druit.”
“This one’s mine.” Ray’s scalpel trembled briefly in her hand. “Where was I?”
***
***
INT. – JULIAN BLACK’S MANSION – MORNING
Simone smiled at Cici as she sent the carefully crafted text.
“Excellent.” She stroked the woman’s long, black hair, licked a line of sweat from Cici’s right temple. The therapist groaned deeply, pain and pleasure mixing in her expression as Simone dug her fingernails into the soft flesh of Cici’s right breast.
“Excellent,” she said. “Dr. Hunter’s ownership brings us one step closer to Kinsey. Now, how to capture the elusive detective?”
Cici didn’t answer. She was too far gone in Simone’s power for anything but animal instincts. All the while the thing inside her, Gideon Orter’s bastard creation, grew and grew.
***
INT. – DR. PANTHER’S OFFICE to INT. CICI’S APARTMENT – MORNING
Kinsey couldn’t help but worry about Ray even as she left her behind in the morgue. Sure, she knew her friend was tired, but it was more than that. The hurt in her eyes, the guarded, brittle shell she hid behind more and more lately, had to do with Cici.
With Gerri running off to continue her investigation, Kinsey had two options. She could tag along with the detective and more than likely get in the way. Or, she could make a friendly stop at Cici’s office and have a chat with the therapist.
Since this wasn’t a weird case, Gerri really didn’t need her. Easy enough to reason away her continued participation. And it wasn’t like President Mickerel would be tracking her every move to make sure she was following up on his orders. Kinsey snorted as she climbed behind the wheel of her red convertible and fired up the engine. She was so far done from following orders, he had no idea.
Besides, if anyone was going to get answers from Cici, it was Kinsey. Gerri certainly wouldn’t. Her aggressive animosity was her favorite weapon, wielded like a club against those who pissed her off. Kinsey might have shaken off her own skin of protection now she’d learned who and what she was, but she still knew how to be a diplomat.
While the tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered to her she really needed to mind her own business, Kinsey parked in the lot under Cici’s office building and took the elevator to her floor. With a happy, welcoming smile plastered on her face and projecting friendliness ahead of her like a battering ram, she entered the foyer and almost smothered Cici’s receptionist, Angela, with her good cheer.
“I’m sorry, Dr. DanAllart,” Angela said, reflecting back Kinsey’s smile with one of her own, “but Dr. Panther is out of the office this morning.”
Frustrated but refusing to quit, Kinsey left the office, chewing her bottom lip. She knew where Cici lived, had been there once, thanks to snooping on Ray’s phone for the address. She almost went in then to have it out with the therapist. Did she dare face Cici down on her own turf? The
office was a different story. There was a logical flow to Kinsey being there, a professional out that she could offer if Cici pushed her for reasoning. But going to the woman’s apartment was a totally different story. And would put things on a more uneven and troublesome playing field.
Kinsey entered the underground parking garage, her car beeping at her as she unlocked the doors, making up her mind the moment she closed the door behind her. This was Ray. And Ray was worth everything.
It was a short drive to Cici’s complex, a lovely downtown revitalization project, an old warehouse converted into lofty condos with a huge central garden that reminded her of the solarium at Julian Black’s mansion. The heated air of the California morning hit her as she exited her car, straightening her t-shirt over her rumpled jeans, wishing she’d taken the time to at least brush her hair out from the mess she’d made tugging it from the updo of last night’s fundraiser. Sighing at her own inability to be an adult, Kinsey crossed the parking lot and headed for the front door of the apartment building.
Someone raced her to the glass entry, a tanned hand reaching for the long metal handle, pulling it open for her. Kinsey turned to smile her thanks at the favor and felt her insides lurch.
Talk. About. Delicious. The most delicious man she’d ever seen in her entire life, bar none, hands down, oh my God. While he smiled down at her with perfect white teeth against bronze skin with lips so full and luscious she assumed they would taste like fruit, she stammered a thank you so pathetic she cringed inside at the mess she made of everything, always.
“My pleasure,” he said in a voice of a god, deep and rumbling, the sound of it like a cat’s purr. Black eyes watched her with faint curiosity as she stood there, staring.
Jesus, was she really standing there, staring?
“Kinsey DanAllart.” She stuck one hand out, certain this stranger wouldn’t give a damn who she was and likely had six million girlfriends already with a face like that, all chiseled and square jawed, perfect nose and high cheekbones, shining black hair long enough to tuck behind his ears.
She was going to lose her mind any second now.
“Wind Panther.” To her shock, he shook her hand without hesitation. She was so enamored of the way his skin felt, all rough and warm against hers, it took her a moment to start out of wondering what those hands would feel like on her bare skin elsewhere on her body to make a connection.
“You’re related to Cici?” God, was she really that big of a moron, blurting crap out of her face without stopping to think? Yes. Yes, she was.
His wide, dark eyes narrowed just a touch, but his smile didn’t falter. “You know my sister?”
Sister. While Kinsey knew Cici was gay, a tiny part of her worried maybe, just maybe, she swung both ways and this was her secret husband or something. But now she was actually grasping a firm hold of herself and breathing again, she saw the family resemblance. He had to be Cici’s younger brother. Shoulders like that, biceps that strained against the cuffs of his—she was going to die—dark t-shirt, narrow waist and hips under his jeans…
“Kinsey?” One of Wind’s eyebrows rose, smile pulling tight over his white teeth.
Huh? Oh, crap. He asked her a question, didn’t he? “Yes,” she blurted. “Cici. I know Cici.”
If Gerri was there, Kinsey would have begged her to just shoot her.
“I stopped by her office,” Wind said, gesturing for Kinsey to enter the building ahead of him. Right, the open door. Cold air washed over her through the gap. Kinsey stumbled forward, certain she would never, ever recover from the embarrassment of the last few minutes, while Wind’s free hand caught her elbow and steadied her. It remained where it was after he released the door and let it close behind him.
After that, didn’t matter. His hand on her arm was worth it.
“Me, too.” Kinsey noted the concern on his face, the faint tug of his brows as he frowned. She wanted to smooth the worry with her fingertips but managed to resist. Barely.
Wind’s hand fell from her arm as his frown deepened, dark eyes glittering with something she didn’t understand. “You said DanAllart.”
She nodded, feeling suddenly stupid.
“Margot DanAllart’s granddaughter.”
He knew her grandmother. Kinsey nodded again. “Seems we have more in common than your sister.” Mention of Margot helped pull the anthropologist out of her shivering crush on the delicious Wind and into reality. Not completely, but enough she could focus on more than how his pecs danced under his tight t-shirt.
Damn it, there she went again.
Wind took one step back. “Why are you looking for Cici?”
“I just need to talk to her.” This whole trip suddenly felt like it had taken a weird turn. The way he looked at her… “What’s your connection to my grandmother?”
Wind didn’t answer. “Doesn’t matter.”
Oh, but it did. The tilt of his head, the way he licked his lips, looked away. As if he was going to run from her for some reason. Did he know Margot was a Nightshade? Did that make him paranormal?
Dear God, did that make Cici a paranormal? It made sense, of course it did. Ray couldn’t be with the therapist unless she was one of the races, or a mix. She’d see her death, otherwise. How had Kinsey missed it?
Before she could ask Wind what and who he was, exactly, the door behind them opened abruptly, jerked wide, and the object of their pursuit stepped through. Cici looked briefly shocked to see them both, before her expression—her entire body—shut down.
“What the hell are you doing here?” At least that cold tone wasn’t aimed at Kinsey. Wind flinched from his sister’s reaction, one hand reaching for her before falling to his side.
“Mama Roan sent me to check on you.” Who? Kinsey looked back and forth between them, holding still and quiet, hoping they might say something helpful if they forgot she was there.
No such luck. Cici’s eyes flickered to Kinsey before she answered. “Tell the old woman I’m fine. And to mind her own damned business.”
Cici strode past the two of them, bumping Kinsey with one shoulder on the way by, one hand holding the straps of a grocery bag, a bottle of wine sticking out of the top.
“Ocean.” Wind’s tone commanded, something echoing so deeply even Kinsey froze. His sister half turned as he spoke and the anthropologist gaped. The language he used… she didn’t know it, had never heard it before. It sounded Native American, but in a dialect foreign to her, the words thrumming inside her as if she should understand.
Cici responded in the same language, though her words carried no weight, no pressure, not like Wind’s. Two words made it through, two words that made Kinsey tingle. Nightshade. And Simone.
They argued back and forth for less than sixty seconds, rapid fire, before Cici stormed off, slamming her way through the door to the stairs and disappearing.
Wind exhaled sharply, face tight with rage. When he turned to Kinsey again, that anger remained, refocusing on her.
She spoke before he could. “What does Simone Paris have to do with Cici?” Her heart pounded so hard she felt she might throw up from the excessive beating.
Wind’s face settled into cool frustration. “Tell your grandmother,” he said, “the Panther family is done being her pawns. If she wants something done, she has to do it herself.” He turned and stormed off, out the door into the California sunshine, leaving Kinsey gaping after him.
With a million questions unanswered.
***
INT. – CHARIOT PUBLISHING – MORNING
Gerri sat, one booted foot over her knee, pretending to read a magazine while her irritation at having to wait built within her. She’d arrived at Chariot Publishing’s West coast office over a half hour ago. And while the smiling receptionist told her it would only be a few minutes, she’d been forced to cool her heels in the waiting room while person after freaking person jumped the queue ahead of her, escorted into the offices beyond the front desk.
If the small, myopic man who
just arrived was ushered in ahead of her, she was going to throw a fit.
The main door opened, the sight of Kinsey entering making Gerri feel a little better. At least she would have her to play interference if Gerri couldn’t keep her temper. But, from the look of worry on the anthropologist’s face, Gerri had more to think about than who was jumping the line ahead of her.
Before Kinsey even had a chance to sit down, the smiling receptionist who Gerri had decided was some kind of perma-grinning android, looked up from her desk at total random. “Detective Meyers? Ms. Donnelly will see you now.”
No time for Kinsey’s news. The blonde seemed to understand that, falling into step beside the tall redhead who strode with no less irritation past the receptionist’s desk. The slim, attractive young woman—an intern, Gerri guessed—waiting to escort them just nodded and guided them deep into the office.
She ignored the cubicles, the mutters of the workers in the main room, focused on the end of the hall ahead and the half-open door. Had to be their destination, the intern making a straight line for it, the view of Silver City through the plate glass coming into focus the closer they came to the big wooded entry.
Monica Donnelly rose from her desk as the intern entered, turning sideways to allow Gerri and Kinsey through. “Detective Geraldine Meyers, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Jenny, that’s all.” She waved her off, holding out one hand toward Gerri as she circled her desk. Gerri accepted the firm handshake, taking in the crisp charcoal suit and fresh-pressed ivory blouse, the sensible if fashionable heels, the large diamond and wedding ring on her left hand. The handsome woman turned and shook Kinsey’s hand as well. “Monica Donnelly.”
“Dr. Kinsey DanAllart,” the blonde said. “I worked with Malcolm at the college.”
“Ah.” Monica’s professional smile wavered a moment before she gestured for the pair to take a seat. “How well did you know him?”
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