by Ann Denton
“Why aren’t we listening?”
“Sometimes you have take away one sense to enhance another.”
“You sound like some bad motivational speech.”
He’s fighting a grin again. Maybe there is a tiny bit of humanity left under all those overblown muscles.
“You know, I don’t know if I really believe your value thing. It oversimplifies people.”
Flowers shrugs. “Most people are simple.”
“My best friend isn’t shallow and attention-loving. Captain French rejected his whole family.” My heart gives a little twinge as I say that last bit.
“Odd ducks.”
I roll my eyes and look back at the video as I feed the shredder. “I think you’d have to have a lot of different emotions surging to motivate you to kill someone.”
“Me? No. I just have to be hungry.”
I almost lose a finger.
The tiger made a joke.
“You know, it could have been you instead of Becca.”
“What?”
“I almost radioed to tell you to go check Mr. Bell’s pulse. She’d already done it. Would have given you experience.”
My stomach turns cold. I gulp. “It could be me in the hospital right now?”
He nods. We turn back to the video. And suddenly, I’m watching it way more closely.
But even though Flowers and I re-watch the moments leading up to Bernard’s death like forty bazillion point three times (I’ve learned the importance of decimals. Not about to skip out on them during exaggerations anymore), we do not figure out whodunnit.
Mason McDonnelly, the cameraman, seems to have captured days of footage instead of hours. It gets mind-numbingly boring. Until the very end. The video clicks off.
“Wait. That’s it?”
Flowers cocks his head. “What do you mean that’s it?”
“Where’s the feed from the balcony?”
Flowers leans over his desk (standing, of course) and clicks through the different video files. “There is no feed from the balcony.”
“But he put a camera on the balcony.”
Flowers turns to me as he dials and holds his cell phone up to his ear. His eyes burn into mine.
“Boss? Hey. We mighta’ found out why that camera wizard was killed.”
Chapter 17
Flowers gets on the phone with Channel Thirteen and confirms they don’t have any additional footage. He calls up Seena to try to see if the file was originally downloaded anywhere and if it’s ‘recoverable’ or something. Seena gets to come back to the office. I get dismissed. And it’s only three a.m. Woot! I grab a Broomer, preparing to break the news to JR that I have a date in an hour.
A date that, Luke texts, will require a swimsuit.
What? This is supposed to be a study date! We haven’t progressed to swimsuit level dating yet!
I fret all the way home. Do I have waterproof mascara? I haven’t swam since I started the Academy. Will my bikini even fit? I don’t know about his biting preferences. I haven’t told him about my blood’s unfortunate tendency to turn vamps human. Is a bikini too much of a temptation for a vamp? Wait. What about … the tattoo?
JR sees me land and comes outside to greet me.
My anxiety hits her full blast. “Did you tell him about my tattoo?”
“What? Who? No. I haven’t told anyone anything.”
I grab her shoulders. “Double promise?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I forgot to tell you I have a kinda date with Luke in an hour and he said I need a swimsuit.” My eyes are wide with panic. I may or may not be breathing. I’m not sure.
“Whoa Nelly. Calm down, girl.” JR pets my hair. “I’ll go upstairs, grab you some clothes while you eat. Sarah’s desperate to feed you her cornbread fried chicken—”
Food. My mind shifts gears. I moan in anticipation. Sarah drizzles honey over her fried chicken. Yum. Just double yummy fat yum yum.
JR smiles. “There’s my girl. We’ll play dress up. I’ll help find a way to keep your tattoo covered. You can swim with a shirt or something.”
“You don’t mind that this is interrupting wedding sweatshop?”
She shrugs. “Tabby and Sarah have a handle on it. I got them invited to the wedding. They’ve really done some amazing stuff. They folded like two hundred cranes tonight while I was at work. And the wings they’ve been building are gonna be amazing.” JR heads toward the stairs.
I head inside, where I’m immediately welcomed, a glass of lemonade is shoved into my hand, and I’m cooed over like I’m the most adorable thing ever. Sarah Snow pours it on.
I really need to move to the South. People in Cali do not greet each other this way. It’s like … the difference between cats and dogs. Catitude rules L.A. ‘I’m better than you bitches!’ Whereas the tail-wagging uber-friendliness of the South is pure puppy dog. I wonder how Snow and Tabby Blue get along if one’s like a dog and the other is literally a cat. Opposites? I let my thoughts wander as I eat the most delicious fried chicken in existence, with extra honey.
I eye two mannequins with floor-length feathered wings. “Nice!” I say between bites.
Mrs. Snow smiles at the compliment but keeps working. Tabby’s folding paper cranes. She’s sprinkling glitter over them. At least, I think it’s glitter until some of the bedazzled cranes take flight, flapping around the dining room chandelier like a bunch of moths.
“What is that stuff?”
“Just a little something from a friend,” Tabby says as she leans over to turn up the TV.
I stare at the side of her face. She stares determinedly at the television. It’s pixie dust. I frickin’ know it is. But she won’t admit it. Of course not. Is every little old lady into breaking the law? Do they just not care anymore?
I open my mouth but before I get a word out, Jackie Hanna’s boobs fill the screen. It’s a second before her face comes into focus.
“Tragedy strikes again. The City Council Killer must have more on his mind than just targeting Councilors. He’s out to terrorize our community. Show us what a lawless wild west we really live in. What other reason could he have to kill Mason McDonnelly? An innocent who was one of our own. A cameraman I worked with myself on occasion.”
“I really don’t like her,” I sigh. “Why does she get all the coverage?”
Sarah shrugs and sets down a plate of cookies in front of me. “She found the body, I think. Maybe she called dibs.”
“That’s just gross.”
“Real world, honey. Not a pretty sight. Eat up.” Sarah grabs my lemonade cup and switches it out for a mug of milk.
“She’s not quite as dumb as she seems, you know,” Tabby takes a sugar cookie and breaks it in half, watching Jackie go through the timeline of the murders. “I knew her grandma, way back when. Smart nymph. Never got caught with her bloomers down, if you know what I mean.”
Sarah’s lips thin at that. “Do you have to be so crude, Tabby?”
I crinkle my brow. “What are bloomers?”
“Panties,” Tabby smiles at Sarah and eats her cookie. “Jackie’s grandma loved the gentlemen. Particularly the married ones. Not so much for commitment. But she never got caught. Not a single wife saw her in action. She was pretty handy with her spells.”
Sarah rolls her eyes as she finally finishes her hostess duties and sits back down with us. “Doesn’t mean she was a genius.”
Tabby pushes her glasses up her nose and her tongue snakes out to grab a lingering crumb on her chin. “She might not have been magenta, but she wasn’t the dullest crayon in the box either, Sarah.”
Sarah sighs. “Well, there’s no telling if any of those brains passed down to her granddaughter.”
“Her rack certainly did,” Tabby snickers as she turns back to the TV. She ignores the crumpled napkin Sarah tosses at her.
Jackie’s showing off said rack as she leans toward the camera. “Channel Thirteen has an exclusive interview with Mason’s mother regarding this
tragic incident.”
The screen cuts to Jackie and an elderly woman sitting on a cramped futon. A poster of a rainbow with some fluffy clouds hides half of the wood-paneled wall behind them.
“Tell me, Ms. McDonnelly what was Mason like?”
“He was a good boy. A shy boy. Loved to read. Tinker. Study. I mean, you knew him Jackie. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Jackie nods and pouts her lips in sympathy. “He still lived here at home, right?”
I grab one of Sarah’s lemon cookies and take a bite.
“This was his garage apartment. He was saving up for his own place,” his mother sits up a little straighter, pulling at her button-up sweater. “I think … he might have met someone.”
“Ooh! Did Mason have a boyfriend?” Jackie leans forward, tragedy set aside for juicy gossip.
“Boyfriend? No. He wasn’t … I don’t think he was gay.” His mother glances up at the rainbow poster and sighs. “I guess … I guess I just don’t know. Now, I’ll never know.” She tears up.
“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt your son?” Jackie uses her manicured claws to pat Mason’s mother on the shoulder.
“No. I mean, not for personal reasons. But I do know one man ruthless enough to do something like that.”
“Who?”
“He’s a cheater and liar. And a thief. Of course, I guess that’s why he got elected right?” the woman’s eyes fill with tears. “Gor the Goblin is a dark-hearted monster. And there’s no doubt in my mind he’s the City Council Killer. He cut down his competition for Councilor. And then, because my son saw something, he killed my son. A boy he’d known—just killed him.” She dissolves into sobs.
I inhale. Has Bennett seen this? Is Flowers watching? This woman just accused our new City Councilor of a double homicide. On TV. Also, why the heck are they inside a dead guy’s apartment? Shouldn’t that be sealed off? What could Mason have seen? I reach for my phone, my mind on overdrive.
The phone is plucked out of my hands. JR dangles it between her fingers.
“Uh-uh. No way. No murdiferous thoughts right now.”
“But, this is a big deal.”
“Nope. We only have forty minutes to get you looking like a sexy schoolgirl for study time.”
“But Bennett—”
“Is a big boy and can handle this without you for two hours.”
I turn pleading eyes to Tabby and Sarah.
Tabby shrugs. “I’ve told you to go for Bennett, but I’ve been outvoted. At least temporarily.”
JR glares at her for speaking out of turn. Then she reaches down and swivels my chair away from the TV. “Sit still. I’m about to do some magic … with makeup.”
Chapter 18
I meet Luke at the Ventura pier. I glance self-consciously around as my Broomer zooms off into the sky, but at four a.m. only bums and jacked up college kids are out. None are close enough to make out facial features. We should be okay in this human town. I hope.
Luke holds out his elbow to escort me down to the beach. He has a picnic basket and a blanket over his arm. His blond hair glimmers in the moonlight.
“Picnic on the beach? I thought we were practicing losing things.”
“We are.” He grins and leads me toward the water. The wind off the ocean has an extra bite. I shiver as he spreads out the blanket. I can almost taste the salt on the air.
“Why here?”
“Full of questions tonight, aren’t you? Did you wear a suit, like I texted?” He grabs the back of his shirt and hauls it off, leaving me gaping at abs that could only be supernatural.
Half-clothed, my Viking fantasies about him seem even more real. I completely forget all questions as I spot the line of hair extending from his naval to his board shorts. OM double G.
“My eyes are up here.”
I squish my eyes closed. Humiliated? Oh yeah. But my lady parts are cheering, roaring, doing back flips.
“I showed you mine. Your turn.”
I peek. His blue eyes sparkle expectantly. Almost hungrily. And part of me really wants to toss off my cover up dress right there. But … “Um … there’s something I need to tell you.”
Luke pauses. I think he can hear the tremble in my voice. He steps closer. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I step out of my flip-flops and wiggle my toes into the sand. Damn. I do not want to say this. Should I just wear the ugly cover up t-shirt JR found?
“So, if we’re gonna go swimming … Wait, do we have to swim?”
“We definitely do now.”
“Why?”
“Well, whatever you’re nervous about is frickin’ adorable.”
“But … I really need practice.”
“It’s part of the plan for practice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup.”
I sigh. My brain says, He’s not wearing a t-shirt. You shouldn’t wear a t-shirt. Just tell him. “Okay, but before I take off the dress …” I bite my lip. “This is embarrassing.”
Luke chucks me on the shoulder. “More embarrassing than admitting to a food fetish on a first date?”
I laugh. “Maybe? But JR’s been holding it over my head. Threatening to tell coworkers, you—”
“Just rip off the band-aid.”
“When I was nineteen, I got a tattoo.”
His eyes start to glitter with amusement. “It’s not a fairy on your lower back is it?”
I chuckle. “Nope. Missed that bandwagon. Um … it was supposed to say, ‘Candy girl.’ Because of my sweet-tooth. But the guy used a naughty needle.”
Luke bursts into full on laughter. “Yes!” He punches the air. “Why wasn’t this your fun fact on our date?”
“It’s embarrassing!”
“I want to see it.”
I look around. The beach is empty. “Um. This is still public. It’s on my inner thigh.”
Luke takes a step toward me. “Even better.”
“But—”
He leans in. His breath brushes my ear. “Lyon, you take that dress off now or I will help you take it off.”
His words send erotic chills down my spine.
“I thought you said you gave up the bad boy thing.”
“If the situation calls for it, I’m happy to take control.” He demonstrates by yanking me against him. I feel his washboard abs pressing against me. His strong hands grab both of mine and pin them behind me. He uses one hand to keep my wrists in place and the other to slide my sweater off my back. I’m left with just my sun dress. He releases my hands. “Your turn. Show me.”
“Okay.” I take a step back and meet his eyes. I slowly push the straps of my sun dress down my shoulders. My breathing hitches. So does his. I push further, letting the top pool around my waist. Luke’s hands cover mine and together we slide the dress down my hips until it falls at my feet. I’m left in my yellow bikini.
His eyes are dilated. His breathing is ragged. “Now sit. And spread your legs.”
I feel naughty. But I kind of like it. So I do.
Luke crouches down between my legs. He runs his hands from my knees toward my thighs, pulling them even farther apart.
My heart races. This should not be happening in public. Part of me wants to check and see if anyone else is watching. But I can’t pull my eyes away from Luke.
His gaze falls on my tattoo. And then he bursts into raucous, sexy-mood-ruining laughter.
I cover my eyes. I can’t look.
“What’s it say?”
“Bite my cookie, Sugar,” Luke pants out the words between laughs.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh. That’s not as bad as most days.”
“Give it a sec. It’s rearranging itself.”
I glance down as the ink swivels around my inner thigh, forming new letters. Now it says, “Hey sucker, gonna suck her?”
Luke’s laughter must encourage the enchanted tattoo, because a second later, more new words are forming.
“Get your Honey Bites here!”
“Bet y
ou’re a jawbreaker.”
And then, “Watch out for fudge!”
Luke falls into the sand, grabbing his ribs. “I can’t watch anymore. It’s hilarious.”
“Yes, that’s what every woman loves to hear when you’re staring at her girly bits. It’s a total mood-killer. That’s why I had to show you now …”
He sits up and cups my cheek, getting sand all over me. “It’s perfect. It’s totally you.” His hand runs a soft trail over my neck. Up and down.
He’s forgiven as my libido takes over and wipes all insulted embarassedness from my brain. He puts his body right next to mine. An inch away. Almost touching skin to skin. But the only place he touches is my neck. His fingers glide up and down.
“Swim with me?” he whispers.
“Sure.”
He gets up and grabs something out of the picnic basket.
“What’s that?”
“This is for your lesson.” He nods toward the water and we walk down together, not touching. But my neck is still pulsing from his fingers. I bet he can hear it.
We get our feet wet and my toes curl. “It feels like I’m dipping my foot in ice.”
“Good.” Luke pulls me into his chest and cradles me there as he wades waist deep into the water. He’s not warm, but the way he makes my blood rush does the trick. Our eyes meet, and flirt, and say all kinds of things we don’t say out loud. Luke leans down. I think he’s going to kiss me. My heart flutters.
His lips brush my ear. “Take these. And back up.”
He drops a crinkled plastic sheet into my hand. I look down, trying to hide my disappointment at the aborted kiss. In my hand are a dozen little red and pink heart stickers. Like the kind a second-grade girl hordes in her pencil case. What? I glance up, confused.
He smiles. “Back up a couple feet. Then I’ll explain.”
I wriggle out of his arms and back up. I regret it for two reasons. One, it’s freaking cold! And two, I kinda miss his arms.
“Okay, so, now what?”
Luke ducks his head and bites his lip. Almost like he’s embarrassed. “Now, I want you to lose your heart … s.” He tacks on the ‘s’ at the last minute. “To me.”
