Knock, knock, knock.
I sit up in bed, trying to place the sound until I realize it’s someone knocking on my front door. Sliding out of the sheets, I reach for my robe and gingerly walk to the front door. Every muscle is sluggish, but light at the same time. As though I got enough sleep but fought in a world championship boxing fight the day before.
The cold floor seeps into my feet, making my entire body frigid. Before I even reach the door, I know who’s waiting for me: Detective Radovich.
I unlock the deadbolt and swing the door open.
“Come on in, Dan,” I say, stepping back and swinging my hand out to offer up my living room.
The detective’s stance is wide, but timid at the same time; clearly conflicted with why he’s here. His blonde eyebrows raise high above his dark blue eyes, and he lets out a relieved sigh.
“Hi Diana, sorry to bother you this way. I’ve been trying to call you this morning, but you haven’t answered. Your employee was getting nervous,” he says, taking off his hat, and stepping inside.
“Huh?” I say, shooting him a confused look.
“Renaldo, I think his name is.”
“Yeah, that’s him. What do you mean he’s getting nervous? I called and left a message for him last night saying I wouldn’t be in.”
I walk over to my recliner and take a seat. The detective does the same, opposite me on the couch.
“Diana, that was four days ago,” Dan says. “I listened to the message myself. He’s been here knocking at your door a number of times, but you’ve never answered. He got worried.”
My eyes widen, “What? You have to be kidding me?”
“No joke. Wish it was,” he says, his eyebrows flicking up to his head.
The impressions of his own surprise are palpable. He’s always been an advocate for my abilities, but he’s still shocked I wasn’t aware of how long I’ve been MIA.
“Everything okay?” he asks, glancing around the room.
Stifling back a yawn, I take a quick assessment of how I feel. Tired, but overall starting to regain most of my faculties.
“I’m okay. I think I over-used my abilities. Needed to take a beat to catch up on rest,” I admit.
Dan takes a moment to consider, then nods his head.
“You were awfully busy. In fact, we’ve been having a helluva time with the case you and that PI were working on, too. Coulda used some help these past few days,” he says.
“I know,” I say, remembering the vision I had before I passed out.
“You do?”
“Yeah, the men got away, right?” I say, leaning back in the chair and tucking the bottom of my robe around my legs.
Dan nods.
“Yeah, sure did,” he says, pressing his fingertips together. “One guy’s dead—”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to find them. At least Esther’s safe now.”
“Very true. From the way your PI friend tells it, her rescue was damn near your sole accomplishment,” he says.
My lips spread downward in surprise.
“He actually said that?”
“Pretty much. Said you were instrumental in getting her outta there,” Dan says, reaching for his hat.
I didn’t expect Blake to lie, per se, but I’ve gotta admit, I’m surprised he gave me as much credit as he did. I mean, he’s right—I was the one to figure out where she was and get her outta there. Not to mention, warn him about the others. But still…
“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” he says, glancing at my robe. “Looks like you need to get dressed.”
I smile uneasily.
“Yes, I guess I do. Thanks for stopping by, Dan. I’ll give Ren a call now so he can stop worrying.”
“You do that,” he says, standing up.
“Good luck on the case. I’m sure you’ll find they other guys. They didn’t seem like overly criminal masterminds, if you know what I mean. Mostly arrogant assholes who thought they could get away with anything,” I say, remembering the impressions I got from the other two.
“Thanks, sure do hope you’re right. Anyway, talk soon,” he says, opening the front door and stepping outside.
As he closes the door behind him, I walk up to it and lock the deadbolt into place.
“Looks like I have some explaining to do,” I mutter to myself.
“You’re telling me some strange guy broke into your house and you decided, ‘oh, what the hell, I’ll go with him?’ And all this time you were sleeping? Like, actual sleep, sleeping?” Ren says for the second time, his eyebrows edging toward his hairline. As if it didn’t compute the first time around.
“Yes, for the love of all that’s holy; I was sleeping,” I say, annunciating slowly, “Why is that so hard to fathom?”
Christ, what in the hell else would I be doing for four goddamn days? I’m not that kinky. Sheesh.
I shake my head in disbelief.
“What a waste of four days. You coulda at least lied and said you took an impromptu road trip to Cancun with the PI who broke into your house because you fell wildly, madly, deeply in love, and wanted to live it up for a few days. That I coulda believed, and at least admired,” he says, slumping in his seat across from me, “but this?”
He sighs indignantly.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Ren. No wild, mad love here. In fact, he was kinda frustrating more than anything else.”
“Aren’t they all?” he says, flippantly.
“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?” I say, raising a knowing eyebrow, and leaning back in my chair.
I don’t even have to be psychic to know Ren’s feeling neglected again. He and Brody have had an on again, off again romance which can be best described as true love. They annoy the hell outta each other so much, there’s no other way to describe it. They’re made for each other, truly.
“Oh my God, please, Diana. I don’t want to talk about Mr. ‘let’s drop my skivvies anywhere but the hamper.’ I need something happy. Tell me something happy,” he says, pressing his hands together in mock prayer.
“After four days MIA, you now know I’m alive,” I say, grinning and doing jazz hands. “Yay.”
Ren sighs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “You suck at this.”
I can’t help but chuckle.
The bell to our little shop door dings, and Renaldo sits up straight.
“Gotta go. Duty calls.”
“Geez, that boss of yours is a slave driver,” I say, giving him a sideways smirk.
“Don’t I know it, sister,” he says, jostling his head back and forth, and snapping in mid-air in true, stereotypical fashion.
I shake my head, reaching for my Tarot card deck to pull today’s cards. I’m curious what messages I’ll receive today. Even if I can’t get any psychic impressions for myself, I’ve found the cards to be helpful in at least discovering trends.
“She in here?” a man’s voice filters in from the shop.
“Diana doesn’t take walk-ins without a referral,” Ren replies.
“I’m not a walk-in, I just need to talk to her for a minute,” the man says.
“Honey, don’t they all? Look, how about you tell me your—hey,” Ren says as the door to my reading room bursts all the way open.
“Diana,” Blake says, a bright smile beaming across his face.
“Blake,” I reply, setting my cards aside and standing up. “What are you doing here?”
Renaldo quirks an eyebrow and gives Blake the once-over from behind his back.
“Nice ass,” he mouths at me, pointing.
I widen my eyes, and shoo him with my hands. He, of course, closes the door only part-way so he can stand outside and eavesdrop.
Sighing to myself, I return my gaze to Blake.
“I feel like we got off to a rocky start,” Blake says, shoving aside my large amethyst cluster and rose quartz to place his perfect ass on the opposite side of my glass table.
“Oh, yeah?” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, I, uh—yeah, a little,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Okay,” I say, waiting.
“Granted, we did find Esther. I mean, what could be better than that? Overall, I’d say we made a pretty good team,” he grins, the hint of a dimple emerging beside the edges of his goatee.
My hand slides up over my face.
Christ, he has dimples. How did I not notice this before?
“Yeah, we did. Which is why I’d say our partnership has officially come to a close,” I mutter, shoving him off the desk. “So, pretty sure you can go on your merry little way and I’ll go on mine.”
“Well, see…there’s a problem,” he continues, “the perps—”
“Got away,” I finish for him.
“So, you’ve heard?” he says, leaning forward and placing his hands on the table instead of his ass.
I glance at his hands, then back to his face.
“Something like that,” I say.
“Well, aren’t you the least bit interested in helping get these guys behind bars? I mean, if your abilities are really a thing, you could be the one to crack this open quickly,” he says.
“Blake, you might be getting paid to go hunting for these guys, but the last time I checked, I wasn’t employed by the police department, or you, for that matter. I have a business to run, and clients I need to contend with. I can’t go on a wild goose chase just because you want to—what? Get the credit?” I say, sitting back down.
“Who the hell says I’m getting paid?” Blake says, his dark eyebrows coming together.
“Oh, I guess I assumed—”
“Your abilities are still off with me, I see,” he says, doing air quotes when he says the word, ‘abilities.’
It’s true, as much as I hate to admit it. I’m just throwing in the dark when it comes to my observations and assumptions.
“Well, that doesn’t change anything—” I say, swiping my hand in the air dismissively, “there are plenty of assholes like those guys out in the world. I can’t go hunting down every last one just because I have abilities beyond what others do. Besides, I don’t know if I could take dealing with it day after day.”
“Yeah, but if you could put just one of these bad guys away so they can’t hurt another kid, isn’t it worth it? I mean, sure—you have a point. There are lots of assholes out there. But they’re faceless assholes. These sick ones shot up my damn Rover and were taking part in child trafficking.”
I shudder.
“I’m sorry, Blake. The answer is no. So, perhaps it’s time for you to leave.”
He holds his ground, still hunching forward on my glass table.
“Okay, look. I respect your decision. I do. So, maybe we could, I dunno, go out for coffee or something instead?”
My eyes widen at the audacity. He’s been nothing but a thorn in my side from the moment he bumped into me on the street and he wants to go out for coffee?
“She’d looooove to,” Renaldo says from the doorway.
My eyes flash from Blake to the doorway. In the small crack of the doorway, Renaldo peers inside, tipping his right shoulder, and grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
“Butt the hell out, Ren,” I spit back.
“C’mon, Diana. It’s just coffee,” Blake reiterates. “I promise, no shop talk.”
Turning to Renaldo, I say through gritted teeth, “I’ll deal with you in a moment.”
I hold up my pointer finger, trying to decide whether or not to turn it into a fist. Instead, I press it against my lips. Hard.
Part of me—an annoying part—is sorta thrilled he’s asking me. Don’t get me wrong, he’s nice to look at. As stupid as it is, it’s been a while since I went out on a date. It’s damn hard to make a real connection with anyone when you can hear their every thought. The other part of me is too smart for my own good. Of course his request is meant to soften me up so I’ll eventually say yes to helping him track down the bad guys. C’mon.
The more I think about it, the more it pisses me off. I mean, do I have dumbass stamped across my forehead or something?
I take a deep, cleansing breath, trying to center myself before I completely lose my shit.
Squaring off with Blake, nostrils flaring like a raging bull, I stare deeply into his eyes. I need him to understand I’m deadly serious and if he won’t listen to my words, perhaps he’ll get the freakin’ idea another way. I refuse to move my gaze, or even blink, until he squirms uncomfortably.
“Look, I appreciate the offer, but as I said, our partnership is over,” I say in a low, controlled voice. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to find the door, I’d like to get back to work.”
“Honey, your next client isn’t due for another hour,” Renaldo chimes in from the other room.
“See?” Blake says, pointing and nodding at Ren. “Plenty of time for a quick cup.”
“Are you deaf and stupid? I’ve tried to be nice, but get the hell out,” I say, my voice elevated to the point of cracking.
Blake chuckles. It’s a deep, boisterous laugh bordering on infectious if the timing were right—which it definitely is not.
“What in the hell are you laughing at?” I spit.
“You. Anyone ever tell ya, you try too hard?” Blake says, smirking.
I snort, double-taking at the comment. After a moment, I shrug.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Try too hard at what?”
He leans in close, his dark eyes pulling my gaze into them, and the heat of his breath sending an odd chill through me. His cologne—the one more suited to him, and not whatever nonsense he used the day we met—wafts around us. It’s a heady aroma, and despite myself, my heart flutters traitorously.
“At being a hard ass. It’s all an act. You know it. I know it,” he whispers, tucking a strand of my pink bangs behind my ear. “The question I wanna know is, why are you so desperate to push people away?”
I swallow hard.
His touch, as simple a gesture as it is, stirs something I’d rather leave unstirred. Especially when he’s so close to hitting the nail on the head.
“It’s not complicated. People are stupid and rarely worth my time,” I say, making a face.
“Says the woman who spends her days helping people,” Blake fires back, still holding my gaze.
“I’ve said the same thing,” Renaldo calls from the store front.
I sigh, exasperated.
“Would you please, mind your own damn business?” I call to him.
“Are you kidding? Honey, this is better than daytime TV right now,” Ren calls back.
Blake licks his lower lip, a hint of a smile threatening to emerge.
“I’m asking you one final time…Please leave,” I say as nicely as I can without walking around my desk to knee him in the groin.
“Alright, alright, I’ll go,” he says, finally standing up straight and holding his hands in the air.
“Hallelujah,” I mutter under my breath.
“But I’ll be back,” he says, shooting me a grin. “I’ll get you to say yes.”
“Don’t friggin’ bet on it,” I snort.
“I don’t have to. I can already foresee it,” Blake says, as he turns around and saunters out.
My eyes shift to his backside as he walks past Renaldo, tipping his head in acknowledgement, and disappears through the front door without another word.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, regret unfurls from inside my stomach…stretching and making room for full-on panic.
He’s right. I don’t even need to use my own abilities to know he’ll eventually win if he’s persistent enough.
Dammit.
Chapter 7
“DID YOU SEE THE ASS on that man?” Renaldo says, once the door swings shut. He fans himself furiously. “Mmmm, Mmmm, Mmmm.”
I bury my face in my hands.
The last time I allowed myself even a glimpse of an opening for a relationship it ended up in flames. We’re not talking little candle type flame, either.
We’re talking apocalypse, end of the world kinda flames. It took me half a century to get over it.
“I mean, seriously,” he continues, “if I wasn't taken, I’d have coffee with him. Then drag him back to my place for some—”
I hold up a hand, “Please stop there.”
“Lord woman, your bits are gonna shrivel up and die from lack of use. What excuse could you possibly have to say no to that?”
“First of all, how shallow do you think I am? Great ass or not, I gotta have more than looks. Secondly, you've seen my track record, Ren. How long have we been working together now? Ten, twelve years? Relationships and me are unmixy things. Always have been, always will be,” I say, straightening the items on my table, and putting them back where they belong.
“First of all, it's been thirteen years, six months, and sixteen days. And honey, all the past relationships not working out are all meant to lead you to the path where it will,” he says, raising an eyebrow.
“Seriously, you have to stop eavesdropping in on my sessions with clients,” I say.
“How else am I gonna get relationship advice?” he says, leaning on the door frame. “Besides, it’s good advice.”
“I know it is, which is why I use it. But I dunno, I'm different. Those rules don't apply to me,” I say, scratching my head. “I wish they did, though.”
Renaldo rolls his eyes, “Right, I forgot. ‘Ms. Diana, the one cursed to walk alone.’ Please,” he says, swiping a hand in the air. “You’re more melodramatic than I am.”
“No, it’s accurate.”
In all honesty, he has no idea. It’s been thirteen years—but he’s never, not once, asked why I look the same. Why I never seem to age. Why I tell everyone I’m in my twenties and have been the entire time we’ve been working together.
If I told any of them my real age—at least the age I know from when I started counting—they’d flip their ever-loving lids.
“If you ask me, you need to get your scrawny butt back into the world. Mr. Cute Ass might be just the ticket. Doesn’t have to be anything more than a date. I mean, you only gotta commit to a cup of coffee—not lifelong servitude,” he says.
“I totally didn’t ask you for your advice. So, how about we drop this and move on with the rest of the day?” I say, batting my eyelashes.
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