Callie, the Muse of Epic Poetry, he’d already met more than once, so she was easy. Next up, Clio, the Muse of History, and judging by the three books under her elbow, she loved to read. Beside her was Trinity, the Muse of Music. He recognized her black hair with an angled cut and her dark eyes. This was the woman who played guitar when Mel’s class sang the blues.
The woman beside her introduced herself as Trin’s roommate, the Muse of Lyrics. He struggled for the name—Erica. She was the only woman at the table with fiery red hair, brighter than Mel’s deep auburn. Filing that away, the next trio was made up of Polly, the money behind their theater project and the Muse of Hymns; Tera, the Muse of Dance; and Thalia, the Muse of Comedy. She’d be easy to remember, her laughter was so unique and clear; you couldn’t help but smile.
Finally his gaze rested on Mel, the Muse of Tragic Poetry. His. All the women at the table were beautiful, and probably talented in their own way, but Mel was the only one he ached to touch. Her smiles were gifts, and her passion for life and love for her work and kids, it all came together into a woman who inspired him to be a better man, to take risks. She lured him closer to the dangerous cliff of emotion and enticed him to jump.
He walked farther into the room and stood behind Mel’s chair. He rubbed her shoulders, watching Callie.
“If these guys in Kronos masks want to stop us, we have to assume they want to kill inspiration, to stop inspiring mankind.” Callie shook her head. “We can’t let that happen.”
She went on to talk security cameras on her house, as well as the theater. Polly was happy to support both projects. Then she brought up the permits for the roof. Suddenly she looked up at him. “Do you have an update on the attempted bombing of our theater?”
He straightened. “Our lead at the docks was murdered, but so far, our investigation keeps pointing to Belkin Oil. Any idea why an oil company might not want your theater to open?”
Callie shrugged and looked around the table. “Anyone have any ideas?”
Trinity shifted in her chair, even just speaking, her voice was clear like a crystal bell. “I don’t know anyone at Belkin Oil, but I dated a guy in college named Belkin.”
Callie raised a brow. “But he’s not at Belkin Oil?”
She shook her head. “Not that I know of. We lost touch, but he didn’t live around here. His family was from down south someplace.”
“So that’s a dead end.” Callie glanced around. “Anyone else?”
Mel tapped her fingernail on the table. “I keep coming back to what Nate said about Kronos and the Titans. I know it sounds insane, but what if they really are trying to free the Titans from the center of the Earth?”
Clio patted her hand. “That’s a myth, Mel. The Earth’s core is made of magma. It’s not a prison for Titans.”
Mel shook her head. “Myths usually grow from a real human problem that couldn’t be explained. What if the magma is the prison?”
Callie tilted her head slightly. “So if the Titans really were trapped in magma at the Earth’s core and someone wanted to get them out…”
“They’d need to drill,” Mel finished, reaching up to touch his hand on her shoulder. “If Nate’s right and there is a Kronos cult, the only people in town capable of releasing him would be at Belkin Oil.”
Chapter Sixteen
The torches blazed as their leader raised his hands to the sky. “Our father, Uranus, we call on your help. Guide our hand in our mission.”
Their leader nodded, and they all lowered their torches to the larger pyre of wood, sending the smoke up to the heavens. Ted stood on his father, their leader’s right side. On his left was Ben.
He had clawed his way through their ranks onto the platform, elevating himself above the others. Ted could imagine his smug smile behind the golden face of Kronos. Bastard.
Once the fire blazed to life, his father lifted his hands again. “The communication is open. Speak freely.”
“The Muse of Tragic Poetry still lives,” Ted blurted out. “Perhaps it’s time we find a new enforcer.”
Murmurs blossomed through the group. Ben stepped forward. “The muse is protected by a police detective, but I discovered a weakness for them both.”
Their leader’s deep baritone cut through the popping of the blazing wood. “And that is?”
“A little girl. Her name is Maggie.”
Their leader turned to face the Order. “Tend the fire while I have a private moment with our enforcer.”
He growled to Ted. “Come with us.”
Behind his mask, Ted grinned. He would love seeing Ben out on his ass. He hadn’t told his father that he’d already been grooming Ben’s replacement. Bryce could follow orders without a football stadium–sized ego.
Behind the platform, they walked a few paces into the trees, and removed their golden masks. Ted Belkin, Sr. narrowed his eyes at Ben. “What are you planning?”
Ben cleared his throat. “I will grab the girl after school and arrange a trade—Melanie Jacoby for Maggie.”
Belkin, Sr. pursed his lips and crossed his arms. “Then the detective and the girl will know about the Order.”
“I’ll tie up the loose ends, sir,” Ben said.
“Oh, please.” Ted groaned. “The police are still sniffing around about the C-4 in the theater. We can’t keep having loose ends.”
Belkin, Sr. held up a hand to silence him. Ted shut up, glaring at Ben.
His father turned to Ben. “We have a mission to free the Titans, to bring about the Golden Age of Man once more. We are the heroes in this story. Heroes don’t kidnap children. They also don’t cut a workingman’s throat while his wife is sleeping in the next room. This has to stop. We’re not murderers. The muses have the potential of blocking our cause. They are our only enemy. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes.” Ben tipped his chin up a notch. “But there are casualties in any revolution, sir.”
“No!” Belkin, Sr. grabbed a handful of Ben’s robe and yanked him close. His voice became a guttural growl. “Find another way.”
He shoved Ben back. “I won’t cover for any more ‘casualties.’ The muse dies; no one else. Am I clear?”
Ben nodded slowly. “Crystal.”
“Good.” Belkin, Sr. pointed at Ted. “Keep an eye on him. Be a leader, not a stool pigeon.” His father put on his mask and walked back to the platform.
Ted narrowed his eyes at Ben. “One more mistake and you’re finished.”
Nate stood on the edge of the lake beside the crane. The silver Honda Accord groaned as it rose from the water. A guy on a fishing boat had seen the sun glint off the silver roof and called the police. Nate crossed his arms, willing the crane to go faster. Part of him was hoping there’d be a body inside. Maybe the guy in the gold mask lost control of his car and drowned with it.
Mel would be safe.
Then what? She’d move back to Callie’s place, and he’d get back to his regular life.
His empty life.
He clenched his teeth as the water drained from the Accord’s doors and windows. Until he met Mel, he hadn’t realized he’d been missing anything.
She turned everything upside down.
And dammit, she was the best part of every day. He looked forward to seeing her at the end of the day, touching her, hearing her laugh. Shit, he’d even looked at puppies online.
Mel and her sisters were busy planning the barbeque at the park for Sunday afternoon. Maggie had given away all her invitations. John was coming, too, to help Nate keep an eye out for any sign of gold masks.
The car sat on all four wheels on the ground, but it was already clear and empty. Nate opened the driver’s side door. Water sloshed out, and he slapped his hand on the roof.
“Dammit. Just one fucking lead would be nice.”
Once the car finished leaking, he leaned inside. A piece of wood kept the accelerator down so the vehicle “drowning” hadn’t been accidental. He went around to the other side and opened the glove co
mpartment. More water, and a few papers stuck together.
A registration card. Better than nothing. And waterlogged receipts. He carefully separated them, but one caught his eye. The credit card name read Belkin Oil.
He jogged back to his car, calling to the tow truck driver. “Take it to impound.”
Back at the station, he dried out the papers from the glove box, and John leaned over his shoulder. “The DMV says the car was sold for cash. New owner didn’t change the title yet.”
“Another dead end.” Nate held up the gas receipt. “But this is an arrow pointing to our friends at Belkin Oil. Again.”
John took the receipt. “Maybe someone at Belkin bought that car.”
“We could take some of the employee pictures over to the woman who sold the car. She might be able to pick out Lewis Gold.”
John slapped his back. “I’ll get them together, and we can set up a meeting.”
“I’ll track the previous owner down and get her to come in.” Nate’s pulse pounded in his ears. Finally, a solid lead.
He grabbed his cell and texted Mel.
Might have a lead. Can I pick you up after work?
After he hit “Send,” he stared at the phone. If this panned out and they made an arrest, he didn’t want Mel to move out. He wanted to see her every day. But what if she didn’t want that?
These were questions he’d never faced before. This was exactly why relationships were off-limits. He got up from his desk and headed for the door, desperate for fresh air. His chest constricted as he paced the sidewalk. He should just solve this, know she’s safe, and let her get on with her life.
His heart clenched. What about his life? He’d laughed more in the past few weeks than he had in years. And while he’d never had a shortness of women in his bedroom, no one ever turned him on like Mel did. She didn’t need makeup, or sexy underwear, or perfume. Just her voice, her smile, and the way she looked at him.
He had nothing to hide when he was with her. And somehow it didn’t make him feel weak.
His phone buzzed.
Only if you promise to feed me. I’m starving today!
Two sentences and his panic lightened. Nate chuckled and sent a text back.
Donato’s on me. See you soon.
Mel stared at the text. Donato’s was a fancy Italian place. She looked down at her black jeans and emerald-green blouse with black buttons. Hmm. The lead Nate found must be huge.
Her heart dropped. What if he makes an arrest? Will he expect her to move out? Donato’s was probably to celebrate getting his place back again.
Suddenly she didn’t care that she was underdressed. Realistically, she should be thrilled to be out of danger. But the danger was what had brought Nate into her life.
She wasn’t ready to give him up yet.
And what about the barbeque this weekend? She’d go through with it for Maggie regardless, but it was going to be painful if Nate was there and she couldn’t touch him.
The bell rang and students filed into her room. Brian came up and set a copy of his poem on her desk. She glanced at it and up to his face. “You didn’t have to bring a copy for me.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I did. My mom told me to be sure you looked at it first so I don’t get in trouble for reading it today.”
“Why would you be in trouble?” She scanned the paper and found the colorful language near the end. “Oh.”
“So can I read it?”
Brian’s dad had left him and his mom a couple of years prior, and he’d responded by clamming up. Being the tough guy. Getting him to write a poem was a miracle, having him ready to share it, and slam it with the class was a gift that wouldn’t come around again if she shut him down now.
Besides, she was in a cursing kind of mood.
She lifted her gaze. “Lose the F-Bomb and you can keep the others, but warn everyone first so they have the option to leave if they find it offensive.”
He caught himself before he let a smile slip through. “Thanks, Ms. Jacoby.”
She called roll and stepped to the front. The desks were moved back a few feet, giving the poets space to work the room. They’d watched some slam poets on YouTube this week to prepare, and today would be volunteers only. No mandatory readings, but she was pleased to see more than half the class had signed up, including Brian.
“Remember our rules. Respect for the poet at all times. You can clap, cheer, cry—all emotions are welcome. Be open and support your classmates. Slamming isn’t easy. Got it?”
Lots of nods and the first student got up. Some nervous giggles, but overall, she nailed it. As more went up and shared their scars, their passions, and their heartbreaks, her eyes welled with tears of pride.
Finally, Brian took center stage. “Yo, I got some language in here so you got a problem, you better step out.”
He waited. None of them left.
Brian found his rhythm, and the room fell silent. He shouted and cursed, but it was the soft lines when his voice trembled that ripped her heart out. The quiet moments when he admitted his pain and wished he could see his dad one last time, aching for closure he would probably never get.
When he finished, all the air sucked from the room. He froze. And one set of hands clapped, followed by another, until all the students in the room were on their feet cheering.
And Brian smiled.
Mel wiped a tear from her cheek, cheering right along with the rest of the class. Kids hugged and high-fived him as he made his way back to his spot.
A poem on its own might not change a life, but a moment like this could.
The bell rang, and she turned to find Nate at her door. Her heart stuttered. He moved out of the doorway so the steady stream of students could rush out, but his gaze never left her face, not for a second. How long had he been there?
Once the room was empty, he crossed to her desk. “You’re amazing.”
She shook her head, heat flushing her cheeks, and she stacked the papers on her desk. “I didn’t expect you to be so prompt.”
She wasn’t ready for this talk yet. If it was going to be the one she expected—the one where he told her it’s safe to go back to Callie’s—she didn’t want to hear it. His finger caught her chin, drawing her attention up to him.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
She shrugged, wishing she didn’t love staring up into his eyes. “I don’t know. You have a lead so I thought you’d be chasing it, lose track of time, call to cancel—”
He stopped her rambling with a tender kiss. When he pulled back, a smile tugged at his lips. “What’s wrong? Your glass half-empty is running away with you.”
She took a step back. “It’s silly.” She grabbed her bag and hooked it on her shoulder. “Let’s get going before we have to get a dinner reservation.”
His expression sobered. “Mel, talk to me.”
She leaned against the edge of her desk and crossed her arms. “I’m freaked out because you wanted to take me someplace fancy.”
He puzzled over that for a second and finally chuckled. “I thought you’d be excited. I wanted to celebrate, that’s all.”
“But what are we celebrating?”
Now he looked as uncomfortable as some of her students when she made them read aloud. Shit. She was right. She balled her hands into fists behind her back, trying to hold herself together.
Nate blew out a slow breath and lifted his gaze to her face. “I wanted to celebrate the lead, and then I hoped I’d be celebrating that when this is over, you would stay. With me.”
Surprise didn’t begin to describe her sudden relief. She rushed toward him, and he took her in his arms, holding her as if he’d never let her go.
He kissed her hair and whispered, “Is that a yes?”
She nodded and pulled back to see his face. “Yes. I thought you were going to tell me I’d have to move soon.”
“I was worried you’d be relieved to get back to Callie’s place.”
She shook her head slowly. “In spite
of the fear for my life, I’ve never been happier.”
Something in his eyes, in the way he looked at her like she was all that mattered, made her knees weak. “Me neither.”
“Now that that’s settled, how about we celebrate with Italian?” She grinned.
He chuckled and kissed her again. “You read my mind.”
Nate lifted his champagne glass, clinking it against Mel’s. “Here’s to hoping this lead pans out.”
The restaurant was dimly lit with a candle on every table. And although it was just after three in the afternoon, the candlelight sparkled in her dark eyes. She made him smile, and he loved hearing her laugh. Even the silence was comfortable.
Knowing she wanted to stay after the case was over had lifted a weight off his shoulders. It also opened a door inside his heart. A door he’d been terrified to open his entire adult life.
After their meal at Donato’s, he walked her out to the car. The shadows lengthened, the sun dipping low on the horizon. “Can I ask you something?”
Mel nodded. “Sure.”
“This theater you’re all trying to restore… Why would it be such a threat to followers of Kronos?”
She stopped walking. He turned to look down into her eyes. Her smile stole his breath.
“You saw Brian in my class today. That kind of inspiration can change the world, Nate. Our theater isn’t just going to show Oklahoma. It’s going to be a meeting place for inspiration. We’ll have poets, musicians, dancers, and communities that are trying to make the world better; they’ll all come together in our theater. We’ll hang art to inspire, too. The human race will find new clean energy, cures for cancer, and hope. It’s all about inspiration.”
He cupped her cheek, memorizing every curve of her face. “You’re…I…” He kissed her before words fell from his mouth that he wasn’t ready to share yet. Her soft lips caressed his as his pulse raced. He almost… It bubbled up unconsciously.
My Paranormal Valentine: A Paranormal Romance Box Set Page 105
