Belkin narrowed his eyes. “What did you find?”
“Melanie Jacoby is staying with Callie O’Connor. Others came and went, but those two are living in the house.” He set his helmet down. “There was also a police officer hanging around. Maybe a detective. He wasn’t in uniform, but he had a badge.”
Belkin shot out of his chair. “Dammit! It’s like he sees a damned Bat-Signal when it comes to her.” He clenched his fists. “Did he confront you?”
“I had my visor down so he didn’t see my face. He flashed a badge and ordered me off the bike, but I got away.”
Belkin groaned. “Malone? Was that his name?”
“Yeah, that sounds right.”
“Shit.” Belkin came around from behind his desk. “Did he get the plate number on the bike?”
Bryce shook his head. “I don’t think so. I was out of there full throttle.”
“Good. Nice work.”
Bryce leaned forward in his chair. “Will I be initiated into the Order soon?”
“Not yet.” Belkin’s gaze locked on his. “I have a few more missions for you to accomplish first. Keep following my directions to the letter, and you’ll be inducted.”
Bryce stood up. “Whatever you need.”
Belkin almost smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Mel tucked her overnight bag inside her larger duffel full of clothes. Since Nia’s death, she’d pared down her belongings from a condo, to only a few things in a bedroom, to just enough to fit in a duffel bag for her hideout with a detective who kept his heart in a lock box.
What the hell was happening to her life?
Part of her ached to wallow in it. She could cry for days that Nia was gone. Eventually she’d have to go box up everything in the condo. She was tempted to curl up in a fetal position and accept the tragedy, drown in it.
Her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them back. Before her eighteenth birthday, she’d been an optimist, eager and ready for her next adventure. But the gods had a different plan, choosing her to carry the spirit of the Muse of Tragic Poetry inside her.
She pulled the zipper closed as Callie came into her room.
“You sure this is a good idea?” she asked.
Mel chuckled, slowly lifting her eyes. “It’s a wretched idea, and you know it.”
“Then don’t do it.” A sad smile spread on Callie’s lips. “Stay here. I’m not afraid. I’m having security cameras installed outside.”
“This was huge for Nate to invite me to his place.” Mel hooked the duffel strap on her shoulder. “If I back out, he may never take this kind of risk again. I can’t do that to him.”
“Well, shit. You already care about him.” Callie sighed. “He has a lifetime of experience keeping people out of his heart. What if that doesn’t change?”
“But what if it does?”
Callie raised a brow. “Pretty positive thought for Miss Tragedy.”
Mel rolled her eyes. “Or it’s the damn muse racing for the inevitable heartbreak.” She stared at her friend. “I’m scared, Callie. I do like Nate. A lot. And I’m guessing the more time I spend with him, the more my feelings will probably grow. I’m putting myself right in the crosshairs to unleash some monumental drama, but I can’t help it. He has the heart of a lion locked away in there. I just need to find the key.”
Callie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Mel, who returned the embrace as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
“Tragedy aside,” Callie whispered, “he is one lucky son of a bitch.” She pulled back to meet her eyes. “And if he hurts you, there is a good chance I’ll have to kick his ass.”
Mel laughed, staring down at Callie. “Nate was right. You are a firecracker. He’s a good judge of character.”
Callie grinned. “If so, then he knows the gods blessed him when they marked him for you.”
They both turned as Nate filled the doorway. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, but we should get going.”
Mel walked to his side, and he took the duffel from her shoulder.
She smiled. “You don’t need to do that.”
“I know.” He turned to go to the car.
Callie caught her arm before she could do the same. “Call me later.”
Mel nodded. “I will.”
The drive from Callie’s to Nate’s place was spent in awkward silence. Once he parked, Mel forced herself to say what kept playing through her head. “Are you already regretting inviting me here?”
Nate glanced her way, and her heart clenched. His lips gradually curved into a smile she was quickly getting addicted to seeing. “No. But I definitely don’t know what to say.”
“We could start with what time you need to be up in the morning?”
“John and I are meeting at the docks at nine o’clock. You?”
“I have to be at school by seven thirty.” Mel chuckled. “Tragic.”
“That is tragic.” Nate laughed and took her hand, his touch settling all her jumbled nerves. “We better get you inside.”
She got out and followed him to his condo. He carried all her things while she held the keys. After she opened the door, Nate’s phone buzzed. He set her bag down and answered.
“Malone.” He paused. “Shit. Okay, I’ll meet you there.”
Nate dropped his phone in his pocket, his smile now a tight grimace. What the hell was he going to do now? “Our only lead is literally dead.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
He raked a hand through his hair. Struggling to keep his cool. “The guy from the dock, Dan Barlow? His wife just found his body. I’ve gotta meet John at the scene.”
“Okay.” Her voice was steady, but he couldn’t miss the fear in her eyes. “You go. I’ll get settled.”
Sometimes he forgot that most people didn’t deal with murders as often as he did. He took her hand, his gaze locked on hers. “No one except Callie knows you’re here. Keep the door locked and your phone handy. Call me even if you think it’s nothing.”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine.” He couldn’t tell if she was trying to convince him or herself. She squeezed his hand. “Go. Get these bastards.”
He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Nate closed the door behind him. Never in his life had he wanted to come home. He tried not to analyze it, but he smiled as he jogged to the car.
John met Nate at the car as he pulled up to the scene. “Our man was staking out the street all night,” John told him. “He didn’t see anyone approach the house.”
Nate scanned the fence line. “He had to have come through the back. Any prints?”
“They’re still collecting forensics, but no prints yet.”
“Fuck.” He met John’s eyes. “His wife didn’t hear anything?”
“No.” John stepped out of the way of a tech. “She was sleeping with her C-Pap machine humming, and he was in his chair watching TV. She woke up to go to the bathroom and realized he wasn’t in bed.”
“She’s not a suspect?”
“I doubt it.” John shook his head. “His throat was cut, and she doesn’t have any blood on her or any trail that could lead to a stashed weapon. She’s pretty upset. We’ll see if there’s any evidence linking her, but it doesn’t look likely.”
Nate headed for the front door with John right behind him. The medical examiner was already on the scene investigating the victim’s body. The television was still on.
He approached Barlow’s wife and knelt by her side where she sat in a dining room chair, hair rumpled in mismatched sweats. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Barlow.”
She sniffled and met his gaze. “Dan was a good man.”
Until he took money from the wrong guy. “I need to ask you a few more questions so we can find the person who did this.”
She nodded and wiped her nose.
“You said you didn’t hear a struggle. Did you notice any noises out back?”
“Nothing. I hav
e sleep apnea. The doctor gave me a machine to help me sleep. It blows air. I didn’t hear anything.” She rocked slowly in her chair. “I work early in the morning so I was in bed by nine o’clock. Who would do this?”
He didn’t know for sure yet, but he had a strong hunch it was a man wearing a gold mask of Kronos. “We’re going to do our best to find out. Is there anyone we can call for you?”
“I already called my sister. She’ll be here soon.”
“Did your husband have any enemies that you know of?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Everyone liked Dan.”
He handed her his card. “Call me if you remember anything else, okay?”
“Thank you.” She took the card.
Nate got up and stood beside his partner. “Can you watch over things here? I’m going to take a look out back.”
He took a flashlight from one of the techs and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. If he stumbled onto anything that might have fingerprints, he didn’t want to chance contaminating the evidence. He nodded to his partner and headed out the back door.
The cool night air settled over him as he swung the flashlight slowly from side to side, searching for any sign of blood or an entry point to the property. He’d have to walk the fence line to search for openings, but he was grateful to be doing it alone. His gut told him this was all connected, and if he had a vision, he didn’t want an audience.
About ten feet from the back steps, he noticed a drop of blood. He pulled an evidence flag from his pocket and stuck it in the ground to mark the spot. It was probably from the victim, but the forensics team might be able to find trace elements from the weapon, or maybe the killer nicked himself.
Wishful thinking.
Either way, it proved his theory that the attacker came through the back. The chain-link fence was eight feet high. A murderer wouldn’t risk getting caught or leaving evidence behind from a climb. There had to be an opening in the fence someplace.
He tucked the flashlight under his arm and braced himself before he touched the fence. Nothing. Nate frowned. Then he remembered the gloves. He pulled off the latex and tried again.
A movie came to life in his head. The man in the black robe and gold mask; he clipped the chain-link on the back fence line.
And before going through, he removed the mask.
Nate’s heart rate double-timed. Straining, he struggled to make out the killer’s face, but the shadows kept it hidden. He had short brown hair, no earring, no tattoos that he could see, and in his other hand, two wooden handles hung down from a wire.
Then Nate was alone in the backyard again.
Nate pulled the glove back on, blinking until his vision cleared. He had to find the opening. Maybe the robe got snagged or the gold was scraped off the mask. He was stretching, but he needed something.
He had to get this guy and keep Mel safe.
When he found the opening, he removed the glove again. Nothing. Shit. He tucked the glove in his pocket and slid through. Sweeping the beam of light back and forth, he marked another drop of blood.
And then the trail was gone.
“Dammit.”
He turned to go back to the crime scene, formulating a way to let them know the murder weapon was a garrote without mentioning a vision.
Chapter Thirteen
Mel shoved Nate’s clothes over in the closet and managed to squeeze hers in beside them. His scent was everywhere, intoxicating her. Suddenly, finding a place to put her things away had become more intimate than she’d intended.
With that finished, she wandered into the little kitchen. If she was going to be here for a few days, they’d need food in the fridge. She opened the door, her gaze immediately dropping to the bottom shelf. The gummy worms were gone.
She smiled imagining her big strong Guardian munching on them while he worked. Shaking her head, she went about making a mental grocery list. It was easier to note the items he did have rather than figuring out what she needed to buy. She started opening kitchen drawers in search of a pen and paper. Instead, she found a drawing—a little girl with a big man drawn in felt-tip marker.
In spite of being stick people, the man had green eyes and a badge on his belt. At the bottom someone had scrawled “Thank you!” followed by hearts and happy faces.
She flipped it over, but there were no markings or dates. Nate told her he never had a relationship, but could he have a daughter? One wild night with an accidental conception? From the stick people, she couldn’t tell if there was a resemblance.
There had to be some other explanation. He would’ve told her if he had a daughter.
Or at least she thought he would… But when? Before or after they had sex?
Other than being a police detective with an abusive, alcoholic father, she didn’t know much about the man she was now sharing a closet with.
She put the picture back in the drawer and kept looking for paper. She finally found one, as well as colored pens and Post-it notes. Good enough. Once she had her list of essentials, she glanced at the clock. It was after one in the morning. She had to be up for school in a few hours. She left the list on the counter and fired off a quick text to Nate.
Early day for me so I’m going to get some sleep. Will you be back soon?
As soon as she hit “Send,” regret swelled. Why had she asked when he’d get back? This wasn’t supposed to be a relationship. This was her hiding and him protecting; possibly with bedroom benefits on the side.
Before she could build her angst into a full-blown panic, he texted back.
Sorry it’s so late. I’ll be there in an hour max.
Two sentences, but she managed to read enough subtext into them to make her head spin. Was he sorry she was still awake, sorry she was at his place, or sorry he ever met her? She set her phone aside and headed to the bedroom to change. When she came back to the sofa, she was in one of Nate’s T-shirts. At this point she figured she’d just wait up for him. But her body seemed to have a different plan.
Nate’s front door was locked. Good. Mel was being safe. The second he opened the door, an unusual swell of emotion overcame him. He smiled, closing the door quietly behind him, as he saw she was passed out on the sofa, curled up in one of his shirts.
Seeing her calmed him, and in the same moment, it watered the seed of worry germinating inside his heart. He didn’t want to like having her here. It wasn’t Mel. She was amazing. But the idea that he might get used to the company, to that warm feeling of finding her sound asleep in his T-shirt? It was a dangerous path. It led to caring and depending, and ended in pain.
He went back to his room and turned on the closet light. His clothes were moved and hers added. His pulse sputtered. It was stupid to let it bother him. She had to put her clothes someplace. And he was the one who’d insisted on keeping her safe.
And dangerously close.
He forced himself to move. Obsessing over her moving in was going to drive him out of his mind. On the shelves at the back of the closet, he took down a blanket, turned out the light, and brought it out to cover her.
She hummed and opened drowsy eyes. “You made it back.”
He sat on the edge of the couch beside her. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She leaned up and rested her head on his shoulder. “Sorry I texted you. I guess I was worried or something.”
He lifted her chin. “I work crappy hours.”
“I wasn’t trying to make it seem like…”
“Like you cared?”
She chuckled. “I do care, but I didn’t want to suffocate you with it. You don’t owe me anything.”
He kissed her forehead. “This is hard for me, too.”
“Any leads?”
He shook his head, unwilling to let the frustration creep back in. He turned and scooped her into his arms, lifting her up as he stood. Mel gasped, then wrapped her arms around his neck. “Not interested in talking about work?”
He claimed her lips, savoring the taste of her as he car
ried her into his bedroom. Laying her on the bed, he settled over her. “Work fell off my radar the second I walked in the door.”
The corner of her mouth lifted into a crooked smile. “Me in your shirt works for you.”
“You work for me.” He kissed her again, hard this time.
Her lips parted, his tongue swirling with hers. Usually a rough night of work meant a long night of push-ups and sit-ups in the hope that exhaustion would lead to sleep. Mel’s fingers tightened in his hair, her other hand sliding down his back.
She beat the hell out of exercising.
His voice became a growly whisper. “I need to get out of these clothes.”
He stood up and started to unbutton his shirt when the lamp clicked on. He frowned. “Something wrong?”
“Nope.” Mel stared up at him, the T-shirt barely covering her. His erection pulsed, and she wet her lips. “Just wanted to watch.”
He fumbled with the next button and shook his head. “I’m better with the light off.”
“You know how you like seeing me in your shirt?” She pulled it off and dropped it over the edge of the bed. “Now you can see me without it.”
He drank in her naked body, his fingers suddenly making fast work of his buttons. He hesitated before taking it off completely. “You’re so sexy.”
Her eyes sparkled. “So are you.”
She’d already seen his scars and accepted him. He had nothing left to hide. But his heart still raced as he opened his shirt and took it off. Her lips parted slightly in answer. Seeing the desire on her face, her body… Damn, it made him even hotter.
He brought his hands to his slacks and unbuckled his belt. She swallowed, her breath catching. He came closer to the bed, running his hand up her leg. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad before.”
“Good.” Her fingertips slid up the length of his zipper, squeezing his erection until he ached for her touch. She sat up and unfastened the button. Looking up at him from under her thick lashes, she reached for his zipper. “I want you, too.”
My Paranormal Valentine: A Paranormal Romance Box Set Page 102
