Malaika placed the frying pan on the stove top harder than she'd intended, the weight of it half-falling out of her suddenly weak hand. “You should take care of yourself anyway. You're a good man.”
“And you know this after having just met me?”
“I shouldn't have just met you,” she couldn't stop herself from saying as she pulled out a bag of frozen french fries from the freezer and dropped a healthy amount into the pan of grease she'd started heating on the stove.
“Malaika?”
“Yes?” She didn't turn around, didn't dare to see whatever emotion he held on display in his gorgeous hazel eyes.
“What aren't you telling me? And why the hell do I feel like I already know?”
She did glance back at him then, saw the hope and confusion twisted in those green-brown gems that so effectively melted her into a puddle of need. “What do you mean?”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, shook his head. “I can't kick this feeling that… that we've met before, or if we haven't, we should have.”
Malaika felt her eyes grow wide. And she'd thought she was the one with the psychic powers. But Jonah had surprised her before, as well. The way he'd known there was a woman involved in the murders, the way he always seemed to pick up on little tiny things no one else would. Maybe he was a tad psychic himself, or just really sensitive to other psychics. “It's understandable you would feel that way.”
She heard his intake of breath as she turned to flip the hamburger patties over and cover them with cheese. “Why?”
“Because.” She checked the fries. “We should have met about seven years ago while jogging in the park.”
It was her! Jonah's mouth hung open in shock as the image of Malaika running in little pink shorts and a sport bra flooded his mind. He'd watched her for what seemed an eternity all those years ago, taking in her graceful strides, the toned body that glistened in the sunlight, begging to be tasted. She'd been sex in sneakers, a vision of perfection he woke up every morning just to catch a glimpse of. Then she'd disappeared, just as he'd worked up the nerve to approach her.
“You were the park goddess.”
Malaika laughed, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she turned her face to glance at him. “The park goddess?”
Jonah shrugged, embarrassed. He hadn't meant to let the name he'd used when thinking of her slip out. “I didn't know your name, so I called you what you were to me.”
“Wow.” She put the food onto two plates and handed them to him. “I don't think I've ever been called a goddess before.”
He smiled, taking the plates from her to deposit on the bar while she quickly cleaned the dishes she'd used to prepare dinner. “Thirsty?”
“I could take a sweet tea.”
Jonah fixed the drinks and joined her at the bar, sliding onto the stool next to hers. He bit into the cheeseburger she'd cooked and flavor flooded his mouth. “Damn, girl. This is good.”
“I prepackage them individually with special seasoning.”
Jonah swallowed the delicious meat, followed with a few more bites, and turned toward her. “You said we should have met seven years ago. Why didn't we? Why'd you disappear when I finally worked up enough courage to introduce myself?”
She chewed on a fry, looking thoughtful, and swallowed, her eyes sad. “Seta and my grandmother worked a spell to show me what Craig had taken from me. Apparently the bastard could read my future and he knew I would have met you if I continued to run in the park. He convinced me to join a gym and effectively altered the rest of my life.”
She popped another fry into her mouth, chomping harder than needed to chew the strip of potato. Jonah's breath stuttered, hope and a bit of satisfaction filling him as he deciphered her words. “You were with him then, but you would have left him.”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“Yes.” She turned her face toward his, her eyes hot and angry. A little bit needy. “And I would have married you within the year.”
She should have been his wife. The familiarity that struck him at the crime scene, the need to protect which he hadn't been able to fully shake, not even when Jake had told him she was a witch, suddenly made sense. She was supposed to be his. His wife. The one thing that could fill the void he'd been feeling for the past several years.
He kissed her. He gave no thought to words. Forget questions, explanations. She should have been his wife. That's all he thought of as he pressed his lips against hers, stood from his seat and pulled her small body against his. She was his, should have always been. He swept his tongue inside her mouth, claiming his property, determined that when he was through she'd be so full of his taste, she'd forget that bastard, Craig, had ever existed.
Reality slammed into him, cold and harsh. Craig was still out there, determined to keep him separated from this woman by any means possible. He had to stay focused on her protection, and Deja's. White-hot anger rolled through him at the thought of another man giving Malaika the child he should have created with her, but he suppressed it. It didn't matter. Despite the child's paternity, Deja was an extension of Malaika, had been created in her womb. He loved her for that alone and would lay his life down for the little girl just as he would for her mother. Forcing himself to break away, he pulled back and gently rubbed a thumb over Malaika's kiss-swollen bottom lip.
“What—” She sucked in a breath— “was that for?”
“Making up for lost time,” he responded with a smile, his whole body straining to start it over again. He bit into his lip, the small stab of pain helping to clear his lust-filled brain. “But I shouldn't. I have to stay clear-headed and focused. I have to make sure that bastard is good and truly gone before we can really explore what we've both been missing.”
Her eyes glazed over with heated desire, killing him softly. “If that was just a taste, I don't know if I can wait for the rest.”
She licked her lips and his whole body hardened. “Shit, Mel. You're killing me here.”
He dipped his head, brushing his lips over her warm, inviting ones again. Jake was near in case anything happened. He could do this and somehow keep part of his mind focused on the danger lurking in the darkness of night. Surely. His tongue met Malaika's and they both trembled. She was worth dying for, he rationalized as her hands gripped his shoulders with the ferocity of a tigress. In fact, there was no better way to go out than melded with her.
The sound of keys jingling at her door drew him out of the lusty thought, and they turned their heads just as the lock twisted and the door opened, allowing entrance to an attractive light-skinned black woman with bright green eyes, whose scowl upon seeing Malaika and him wrapped in an embrace was darker than the black silk pantsuit she wore. “Well, look what the cat finally dragged back home,” she said, her scolding eyes crawling over every inch of Jonah.
“Mom.” Malaika released her iron grip on him. Her greeting held a warning tone.
Mom? Well, if there was anything to make a man's hard-on turn into a limp noodle, it was being interrupted by a parent. He stepped away from Malaika, giving his flaming hormones a chance to cool down.
“I've been calling all day,” Malaika's mother went on, stepping into the apartment fully and shutting the door behind her. “Imagine my surprise when police questioned me about your whereabouts. And who the hell is this?” She pinned Jonah with a lethal glare. He actually swallowed hard, feeling the brunt of her distaste.
“This is Jonah Porter, a detective with the Baltimore homicide department, and a close friend,” Malaika all but growled, clearly unhappy with her mother's rudeness. “Jonah, this is my mother, Helen Jordan.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jordan,” he greeted her out of obligation, despite the way she looked at him. As if he were dirt soiling her daughter.
She looked him over, her nose turned up in snooty disgust, and ignored him to focus her full attention on her daughter. “Homicide detective, huh? And you have the police department looking for you, too. What i
s going on? Where's Deja?”
“I'll call Granger and let him know you're with me,” Jonah announced, stepping away from the two women while he turned on his cell phone and walked down the hallway. There were sparks flying in every direction from the women and he didn't want anywhere near them when they blew.
He'd turned his cell off once he'd found Jake at the church, and hadn't felt any need to turn it back on. Jake was the only person whose call he'd been awaiting anyway, and if Granger could get a hold of him, he could question him about Malaika. Something he hadn't wanted to deal with. The man had trouble accepting the fact Malaika was a psychic. He sure as hell wouldn't understand her being a witch, not that he had any inclination to tell him that. He wasn't surprised to see several messages from Granger on his phone.
He braced himself for the inevitable ass-chewing and dialed his boss's number.
“I asked you a question, young lady.”
“I'm not a child,” Malaika snapped and collected the plates of half-eaten dinner. She had the sinking feeling the food would be completely cold by the time her mother finished interrogating her and left. “I'm not in any trouble with the police.” Just some crazy creatures.
“Then why are they looking for you?”
“I'm helping with a case, the murders you've been seeing on the news.”
“The mutilations?” Horror rent Helen's pretty features into a mask of fear. “How could you possibly be helping them with that mess?”
“Because…” Malaika threw away the remains of dinner and braced her hands on the kitchen counter. “I see the murders before they happen.”
“Oh, not this again!” Helen threw her hands in the air, shaking her head. “What? Did you call them, claiming to be some kind of psychic?”
“No, I didn't. I sensed the murders and followed the sense to the scenes of the crimes. Jonah saw me there and—”
“Oh, you stupid, stupid fool! They think you're the killer!” Helen looked down the hall in the direction Jonah had went before turning those hot, angry eyes back to her. “They're going to pin these murders on you.”
“I am not stupid,” Malaika managed to get out through the tears struggling to break free. “And Jonah knows I'm innocent.”
“Jonah? Jonah.” Helen laughed, and it was the ugliest sound Malaika had ever heard. “Oh, well, if Jonah believes you, you're just fine. It's not like he's a homicide detective who might enjoy using you before slapping on the cuffs.”
“He's not using me. You don't even know him!” Malaika tightened her shaking hands into fists, felt the fire warming her palms as she stepped before her mother.
“You don't even know him! Just like you didn't know that other white excuse of a man who used you, impregnated you, and left you alone to raise his half-breed daughter.”
Malaika slapped her mother's face out of pure reflex, and didn't feel a twinge of remorse. “Don't ever speak of my daughter as if she's some sort of mongrel.”
Helen backed away in surprise, her hand covering the skin which was now red from the weight of Malaika's hand slamming into it. “I didn't… I …” She shook her head from side to side, tears spilling from her eyes. Her green eyes. “I love Deja.”
“But you'll never get over the fact she has a white father, just like you'll never get over the fact that you have a white father.” Helen's eyes widened, and Malaika shook her head in disgust. “Come on, Mom. Anyone with common sense can look into those bright green eyes of yours and tell you're biracial. How can you hate what you are?”
“I don't.” Helen's voice was dark. “I hate what that man who fathered me was, and I hate that man who used you. I've learned the hard way what they're capable of.”
Malaika frowned, her head hurt from trying to understand her mother's bigotry. She'd never known her grandfather. Even Grandma Mahdi wouldn't speak of him. He had to have been an awful man. “What did my grandfather do to you?”
“He used me, just like the rest of his kind do.”
“How?”
Helen shook her head. “You'll learn the hard way like I did. Don't say I didn't try to protect you.”
Annoyance and sheer exhaustion of the issue gave Malaika an idea. “Tell me or I will make you tell me.”
Helen laughed. “How? With your magical powers? You and your grandmother, I swear. If magic existed, my mother would have saved me.”
Malaika frowned, wondering what her mother was talking about. Saved her from what? Grandma Mahdi appeared then, tears falling from her eyes, but Helen couldn't see her.
“Tell me.”
“Figure it out yourself while you're in prison.”
“I'll just figure it out now.” Malaika reached for the power inside and pinned her mother to the wall. She ignored the wide-eyed look of fear on the woman's face and touched her palm to her mother's temple. She closed her eyes and inhaled, snatching her mother's memories just like Seta had shown her. She wasn't prepared for the darkness she found.
Helen had been molested, repeatedly, by her own father. Her entire childhood was spent in hell, awaiting his nightly visits. Malaika struggled to stay inside her mother's mind despite the hideous cruelty she found there. She had to know why her mother hated white men so.
Yes, she'd been abused by her white father, but that shouldn't have made her hate the whole race, just the evil demon in question. She swallowed past bile, skimming over the images. She couldn't see her grandfather's face, just his tall, lean build as he hovered over her mother's bed, his arousal evident against the strain of his pants.
The images ran past, one horrid image after another, and she saw Grandma Mahdi shoo Helen away when she tried to tell her what was happening. Blinded by love, she didn't even listen to her young daughter's cries. Malaika frowned, unable to believe Grandma Mahdi would do such a thing. It was as if the woman had been mind-controlled to ignore what was happening.
She saw her mother run from the small apartment she'd grown up in, her nightgown bloody and tattered. Saw her run into a group of men outside a liquor store, a group of drunk white men. She saw the way they looked at her as if she were trash and handed her right back to her father. She was trash to them, and no concern of theirs. Now, if she had been white, they would have helped her. Malaika saw it clearly in their eyes, and so had Helen.
The abuse continued and no one came to her rescue. Not even Grandma Mahdi, until eventually something happened to break the spell cast over her. She charged into the bedroom after years of the abuse had been spent, and pulled the rutting man off her daughter. Malaika watched as Grandma Mahdi fought her surprised husband—No, they'd never married—until they reached the other room. She watched as with magic, Grandma Mahdi forced the window open, and invoked the wind to carry her grandfather out the window and drop him three stories to his death in the dark, filthy alley before packing up and leaving with Helen.
But the image didn't stop there, despite the fact her mother couldn't have possibly known what happened next. Malaika watched the rain beat down on the lifeless shadow of the man in the alley for what seemed like hours. Then she saw him sit up, heard the crunch of bones as he twisted his neck, realigning his body, and she gasped as she finally saw his face clearly in the rain. She'd been wrong when she'd thought of him as a demon. She'd had the wrong creature in mind. Her grandfather was no demon. He was a pranic vampire, the same one who'd attacked her less than twenty-four hours ago.
Malaika's knees buckled as she withdrew from Helen's mind, but she was caught by two bands of steel before her rump could hit the floor.
“Malaika?”
The concern in Jonah's voice helped still some of the tremors wracking her body, but it couldn't completely chase away the coldness. She looked between her grandmother's sorrow-filled eyes, and the angry eyes of her mother, and couldn't speak.
“Tell her I'm sorry,” Grandma Mahdi managed through deep, wracking sobs. “He controlled me for so long.”
Then she was gone. But Helen remained, her body rigid as she was lower
ed to the floor. “You…” The word came out as a growl. “You invaded me.”
“I had to know,” Malaika gasped out on a whisper. Guilt chewed at the edges of her conscience but she knew deep inside her mother would have never told her what had happened to spark the bitter hatred inside her.
“Well, now you know.” Helen's dark gaze cut to Jonah. “They're all the same. They won't help you. They'll only take.”
“No.” Malaika shook her head adamantly, and placed her hand over Jonah's as she felt him stiffen. “My grandfather didn't abuse you because he was white. He abused you because he was evil, as were the others who you sought help from.”
Helen closed her eyes and shook her head sadly. “My stupid, stupid daughter. I've failed to teach you.” She threw up her hands in defeat and broke down into deep sobs as she crumpled to the floor.
“Malaika?”
She turned in Jonah's arms and saw the confused bewilderment in his eyes, in the crease of his brow. What must he be thinking? She could delve into his mind and find out, but she didn't want to do that with him. Nor did she need to. He, she could trust enough to just ask. “Just hold me for a minute.”
He obliged with no questions asked, surrounding her with love and warmth as she rested her head on his chest, trying to clear the jumble inside it long enough to think straight. Her grandfather was a pranic vampire? Did Grandma Mahdi know? She knew Helen didn't. When had he been changed, and why was he in her life now? How had he and Craig come together? It was all too coincidental for her liking. She should talk to Jake. She rose her head from Jonah's chest to ask him to call his brother, but before she could speak a single word, the lights went out.
Everything happened so fast. Fear spiked. Windows burst. The door crashed open. Her mother screamed. Jonah cursed. They were torn apart from each other by unseen forces, and had to fight with no idea where the blows would come from. With the windows and door gone, light should have found a way to filter in, but this darkness was unnatural, not caused by the electric having been cut. This was a magical darkness cloaking them. Hampering their chance of defense.
Witch's Net Page 19
