by Paige Tyler
She finished her eggs, then popped the last bit of toast in her mouth. “It did in the beginning, but not now. It’s actually sort of cool. When they’re not trying to eat me, that is.”
Though Logan nodded, she thought she detected a little smile tug at the corner of his mouth, like he was pleased by her answer.
After they finished breakfast, Presley loaded the dishwasher while Logan went back into the living room to work on his motorcycle. When she was done, she walked over and joined him.
Logan glanced up as she perched on the arm of the couch. “I figured I could get a little work done on the bike while we wait for Muncie to call. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, of course not,” she said. “Though I have to admit, I haven’t met a lot of people who keep a partially dismantled motorcycle in their living room.”
His mouth quirked. “Yeah, it is a little odd, I guess. I could work on it out in the garage, but this bike is kind of special. It always felt wrong to let it sit out there.”
“Was it payment for a job?”
He shook his head. “Nah. It was my dad’s.”
Her ears perked up at the mention of his father. Even though she’d told him a lot about her family, he hadn’t said anything about his. “It looks kind of old. He must have had it a long time.”
“It’s a 1953 Blackhawk Roadmaster Chief.” Logan lovingly ran his hand along the leather seat. “Dad was a cop in New York City and worked crazy hours, so he never had time to fix it up like he wanted to. I’ve been working on it on and off since he got killed. I promised him I’d get it running one day.”
Presley felt a twinge of regret. She hadn’t meant to bring up sad memories. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize your father…”
He shrugged. “It happened a long time ago. I’ve come to grips with it.”
From the flicker of pain in his eyes, she wasn’t so sure. “How old were you?”
Logan picked up a wrench and used it to tighten one of the bolts he’d put in. “Fifteen. I was at school when it happened. My dad and his partner responded to a domestic disturbance call. The guy had a gun pointed at his pregnant wife and would have ended up killing her if my dad hadn’t put himself between them.”
“Oh God,” she breathed. “That’s awful.”
Logan swallowed hard and gave her another shrug. “He was a good cop and a good dad. Working on the bike is my way of remembering him.”
Presley didn’t say anything. Neither did Logan. Regardless of what he said about being okay with his father’s passing, it was obvious he was still deeply affected by what had happened. She wondered if that was part of the reason he’d become a cop himself, but didn’t ask, and for a long time they were both quiet.
“I’ve never been on a motorcycle,” Presley finally said, hoping changing the subject would help take Logan’s mind off what had happened to his father.
He looked at her in surprise. “You’re kidding.”
She shook her head.
He flashed her a grin. “Then I’ll have to take you for a ride once I get this thing running.”
Presley’s heart did a little backflip at the words. It was the first time Logan had mentioned the future, or even hinted they might have one together, and it caught her by surprise. He made the offer so casually she wasn’t sure if he’d said it simply to be polite, but then she realized he was looking at her expectantly, like he was waiting for an answer.
She smiled. “It sounds like fun. I’d like that.”
He’d asked her to go for a ride on his motorcycle, not marry him, and yet as she watched Logan work, she found herself wondering if this thing between them had any long-term potential. Last night she thought she might be falling in love with him. She still felt the same this morning, but while she had feelings for him, she wasn’t sure she was ready for the whole package that came with him. The big, rugged hunter was one hell of a man and damn nice to snuggle up to when the bad dreams came around, but she wasn’t sure she could handle the world he lived in long-term.
Not wanting to think about it anymore right then, she pushed such introspective thoughts out of her head and helped Logan fix up his motorcycle instead. It was fun listening to him explain how the various parts worked in between talking about his dad. He never mentioned his mother, however. Presley was curious why but didn’t ask. If he hadn’t mentioned her, there was probably a reason. She didn’t want to bring up any more unhappy memories for him.
The day went faster than Presley realized and by the time she looked up, it was almost five o’clock. She offered to make a quick dinner, but Logan suggested going out to eat instead.
“We should grab some takeout, too, so we’ll have something to eat on the stakeout.” she said as they changed clothes.
Logan grunted, but didn’t say anything.
She and Logan went to the café in town where Presley had eaten the other times she’d been to Sleepy Hollow. They were just finishing their sandwiches when Logan’s cell phone rang.
“Yeah, Muncie. What’s up?”
Presley stopped to listen, the glass of iced tea halfway to her mouth. Logan must have realized she was eager to know what he and the other man were talking about because he cupped the receiver and whispered, “Martin left his apartment.”
Logan pulled out a pen and scribbled an address on a napkin. She leaned over to get a better look and saw it was someplace in Fairfield. The address looked familiar for some reason and after a moment, she figured out why. It was the funeral home she and Logan had gone to the other day. The one that had supposedly cremated Del Vecchio’s body.
“No, stay right where you are,” Logan said to Muncie. “Don’t go in there under any circumstances. Remember what I told you earlier. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
Logan hung up and dug in his back pocket for his wallet, then tossed a twenty on the table. “Martin went to a self-storage place, then to the funeral home in Fairfield.”
“You think he has Del Vecchio’s body?”
“I’m going to find out.” Logan stood up. “I’ll drop you off at my place before I head up there.”
She pushed back her chair and got to her feet. “I’m coming with you.”
He glanced her way as they walked out to the Hummer. “I know you don’t want to stay by yourself, but—”
“I’m not worried about staying by myself.” For a smart guy, he could be thick sometimes. “I don’t want you going alone.”
Logan opened the passenger door for her. “Presley, honey, it’s very sweet that you’re worried about me, but I know how to handle myself. Besides, I won’t be alone. Muncie is going to be there.”
“Muncie doesn’t have a clue what he’s walking into and it will take half the night to try to explain it to him. He’ll be more of a liability than a help. I already know what Del Vecchio can and can’t do. I’m going.”
Logan mouth tightened. “No, you’re not. I’m taking you back to my place and you’re staying there.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but he slammed the door shut before she could get the words out, so she had to wait until he went around and got in the other side.
“The moment you leave, I’ll be right behind you,” she said as soon as was seated beside her. “I know the address, remember?”
He gave her a sidelong glance, the muscle in his jaw flexing. “You don’t have a car, remember?”
Was that the best he could come up with? “No, I don’t have a car. But I have a cell phone, so I can get an Uber.”
This was her life they were talking about, and she’d never been the type to let another person fight her battles for her. Besides, Logan needed her to watch his back. He was prime boyfriend material and that was damn hard to come by.
She folded her arms and sat back in the seat. “You should stop wasting time. Muncie isn’t going to wait all night. Sooner or later, he’ll get bored and go snooping around. We need to get moving.”
Logan stared at her, his jaw tight. He was probably de
bating whether he should take her back to his place and leave her tied to a chair. She hoped not because she was lousy at untying knots. Apparently, he must have decided against it because he put the SUV in drive and took off out of the parking lot with a squeal, rocks flying everywhere.
Great. Now she’d pissed him off.
At least she’d gotten what she wanted. She hoped she didn’t regret it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LOGAN KNEW THE moment Presley looked at the address he scribbled back at the café he’d end up taking her along. She was too damn stubborn to stay behind. It was one of the things that made her so irresistible.
He only hoped he could convince her to stay in the Hummer when they got to Fairfield. While he didn’t particularly like the idea of leaving her in the SUV, he liked the idea of her being close to Del Vecchio and his depraved partner in crime, Martin, even less. Something told him Presley wasn’t going to agree to wait outside. Which meant he was going to have to do his damnedest to protect her because he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.
Finding Muncie’s car when they got to the funeral home wasn’t difficult. Then again, the place was in the middle of nowhere, so a lone car parked on the side of the road was kind of obvious. At least Muncie had tried to be inconspicuous and pulled well off the road.
Logan rolled to a stop behind the sedan and cut the engine. He’d just opened the door when he caught sight of a person in the passenger’s seat of Muncie’s car.
What the hell?
He got out and shut the door. On the other side of the Hummer, Presley did the same. Muncie stepped out of his car as well, as did the person with him. Logan cursed under his breath when he saw it was Muncie’s partner, Simpson. The guy didn’t look any happier being there than Logan was to see him.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Logan demanded as Muncie approached.
“I’ve been asking myself the same effing question,” Simpson muttered.
Muncie shrugged helplessly. “He’s my partner. I couldn’t pull off a convincing disappearing act without him.”
“Well, that was stupid,” Logan said.
He couldn’t believe Muncie had brought this dipshit with him. If there was one person he didn’t trust, it was Simpson. The guy was the kind of cop who always played by the rules. Not because he thought it was the right thing to do or because it would close a case, but because it would keep him out of hot water.
Logan didn’t know why he cared. What was the difference if Muncie brought his partner with him? It wasn’t like Logan planned on letting either of them go into the funeral home with him. As far as he was concerned, Muncie and Simpson could keep their asses out here guarding the cars. Which was exactly what he told the two of them.
Muncie’s brows drew together. “Now hold on a minute, Logan. You’re not going into that place by yourself.”
“He’s not going by himself,” Presley said. “He’s going in with me.”
Logan turned to find Presley standing beside him, a determined look on her face. “Presley, I already told you that you’re not—”
Simpson cut him off with a harsh laugh. “Oh man, this is rich. Muncie has me on a stakeout the whole day without telling me who the hell we’re watching or why we’re watching him, and now I find out we’ve been watching somebody for the ghost whisperer himself. Then, to top it off, it turns out you’d rather have a beauty queen for backup than us? What a freaking joke. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because none of us are going in there. We don’t have a warrant or probable cause, and we’re miles outside of our jurisdiction. Unless you have reason to believe that creepy little freak in there is having some kinky fun with the corpses, we’re done here.”
“Oh, get real,” Logan said. “The fact that we don’t have a warrant is a handy excuse for you. The real reason you don’t want to go in there is because you’re a coward.”
Simpson lunged at Logan, his fists clenched and ready to strike. Muncie immediately stepped between them, holding Simpson back. Logan wished to hell Muncie hadn’t done that. He was suddenly in the mood to kick someone’s ass. Simpson’s would do.
“Malone, you’re a real nut-job, you know that?” Simpson tried to push past his partner, but Muncie wasn’t going anywhere.
“Dammit Dan, back the hell off!” Muncie gave the younger man a shove that sent him stumbling back. “Nobody’s asking you to do anything but sit in the car. I don’t expect you to go in there with us.”
Simpson looked at Muncie as if he’d suddenly grown two heads. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would you risk your career following that jackass into a building without a warrant? That’s stupid.”
“Maybe,” Muncie agreed. “But Logan says the guy in there is the link to the Stamford Stabber, so I’m willing to take the chance if we can stop this guy.”
Shit. Muncie was a friend and Logan didn’t want to see him screwed by the same bureaucrats who had taken away his badge all those years ago.
“Muncie, you’re not going in there, either,” he said. “I asked you to follow this guy and tell me where he went. You did that, now hang tight in your car. Better yet, why don’t you take off? Simpson’s right about one thing at least. You go in that building without a warrant and your career is pretty much shot. No matter how it turns out.”
Muncie opened his mouth to answer, but Logan’s cell phone interrupted him. Logan didn’t feel like answering it right now, but it was his emergency ringtone, so he figured he’d better. He swore under his breath and dug the phone out of his pocket, then walked toward the back of the Hummer, leaving Muncie and Simpson to argue between themselves. Presley followed him.
“Malone,” Logan said into the phone.
“Logan, it’s Finley. Glad I caught you, dude. I was worried you’d already gone after that Martin guy you asked me to check out.”
“Did you find out anything?”
“A whole hell of a lot. Turns out Russell Martin is a product of the New York foster system. Baron is his adopted family name. They adopted him when he was a kid.”
The way Finley said it made Logan think he should be familiar with the name, but he didn’t recognize it at all. “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”
Finley snorted. “Man, you call yourself a hunter? The Baron were New York State’s most famous occult family for most of the 1900s. They dabbled in witchcraft, druidism, mysticism, paganism, you name it. But they were best known for their explorations into the field of necromancy. Most of the family was involved in it to some degree or another. But the worse of the bunch was the patriarch of the family, Reginald Baron. And guess who’s on the paperwork as Russell’s adopted daddy?”
“Let me guess, good ole Reggie himself?”
“The very same. Russell lived with him for nine years, from the tender age of six until he was fifteen and the old man died. Russell inherited a good chunk of the family fortune, but split right after the reading of the old man’s will, moved to Connecticut and changed his name back to Martin.”
Logan glanced at the funeral home. This ghost they’d been dealing with—the ghost that didn’t behave like a ghost—was starting to make more sense now. Russell Martin had to be the one who’d brought Del Vecchio back from the dead.
“Anything concrete on whether Martin followed in the family footsteps when it came to the occult?”
“Not really. But I think it’s safe to assume Daddy Baron wouldn’t have left Russell all that money if he didn’t think he was a chip off the old block, if you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I get you,” Logan said. “Thanks for calling. I owe you a big one.”
“No way, dude. We’re still not even yet. Not by a long shot,” Finley said. “You be careful, okay? Necromancers might not be as nasty as some other things out there, but you don’t want to face one anywhere near a cemetery because he’d have a lot of power to draw from, not to mention a lot of corpses to throw at you. Pick your battlefield wisely, dude.”
A
s he put the cell phone back in his pocket, Logan looked over at the funeral home and surrounding cemetery again. Didn’t have to worry about a lot of dead bodies around here, did he?
He turned to tell Presley what Finley said, but Muncie and Simpson walked around the SUV. Simpson looked pissed but resolute, so Muncie must have talked his partner into going into the funeral home, too.
“So, you going to tell us what the hell we’re up against or what?” Muncie asked.
Logan clenched his jaw. This situation was going from bad to worse. He’d expected to quietly walk in on a creepy freak who’d stolen the serial killer’s body, scare the guy off, then burn Del Vecchio’s body before the ghost had a chance to make an appearance. Now, it looked like he was going to have to walk in on a practicing necromancer in the middle of the largest cemetery in the county. A necromancer who was strong enough to raise his friend’s half-ghost, half-human essence so a murder spree could continue. As if that wasn’t enough, he had to babysit his stubborn girlfriend, an honest but misguided cop, and the guy’s Doubting-Thomas partner. He didn’t suppose he could ask all of them to stay out here and guard the cars. Then again, with all the ruckus they’d been stirring, he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave Presley out here with the two cops anyway. Borella’s necklace might hide her from Del Vecchio, but he wasn’t so sure about the necromancer.
Logan swore under his breath and opened the Hummer’s back door. Grabbing one of the gun cases, he pulled out a matching set of pump-action shotguns that had their barrels trimmed down to barely legal length. Without a word, he tossed each of the cops one of the shotguns, then handed both of them a box of shells. The men looked at them like they were crack pipes.
“We’ll use our own weapons, thanks,” Muncie said.
Damn, he didn’t have time for this.
“Muncie, I don’t care what the hell you carry. But I’m telling you right now, you walk in that building with only a .38 and you won’t be coming out again.”