by Lynn Hagen
He was also relieved they had the wrong house. He wouldn’t want any harm coming to the little cutie. “Go to bed.”
She closed the window, waved at him, then trotted to her bed and climbed into it, shoving the crisp note under her pillow.
He froze when he heard the cocking of a shotgun.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t blow your brains out.”
Nothing came to mind, at least nothing the homeowner would believe. Telling the guy that he was there looking for a supernatural being would most definitely get him shot.
Not that Deandre would die, but it would hurt like a son of a bitch. He raised his arms and slowly turned around.
Mother fuck.
Amir.
His hazel eyes widened as his jaw dropped. “You!”
Deandre shrugged. “I was after a ghost.”
The person he and Donny were looking for might as well have been a ghost since they knew shit about him.
“I’m calling the cops.”
“That’s probably a wise decision.” Deandre knew the cops in Brac Village, knew they were shifters. They’d understand why Deandre was there but would have a hard time explaining it to Amir.
He looked toward the little girl’s room to make sure she was still in bed and not witnessing her daddy ready to shoot the tooth fairy.
“Don’t you dare look into her room. You keep your fucking eyes on me.”
After the way Deandre had treated Amir on the trails, he was surprised Amir hadn’t shot him already, but he did lower his arms when they started to cramp.
Where the fuck was Donny? Deandre glanced toward the woods and saw his friend standing just inside the trees, watching them. Knowing Donny, he was getting a kick out of this.
Ten minutes later Sheriff Orlando Werth pulled up, getting out and looking between Amir and Deandre. “Lower your weapon.”
Orlando was a big, muscled sheriff with skin the color of creamy chocolate and an ease about him that made him a popular guy in Brac Village.
Amir took a step back and let the shotgun rest with the muzzle pointing toward the ground. “Caught him snooping around my house. Says he’s hunting ghosts.”
One of Orlando’s brows arched. “Is that true?”
Deandre was glad the sheriff hadn’t used his name. He didn’t want Amir knowing they knew each other. “Sort of.”
Deandre held his hands up, palms out, as he moved past Amir and met Orlando by his car. “Hunting some powerful creature who’s been helping the unseelie. Got intel he was here. Guess that intel was wrong.”
“Shit.” Orlando scratched as his bearded jaw. “How am I supposed to handle this?”
“Arrest me. It’ll put Amir at ease and get me out of here without getting shot.” He nudged his head to the side. “Donnchadh is with me. He’s in the woods. As soon as Amir goes inside, he’ll join me at the station.”
“And here I was hoping for a quiet evening. Turn around so I can cuff you. I’m gonna have to use zip-ties since your wrists are so thick.”
“Sorry for bothering you,” Deandre said to Amir, who had been watching them closely.
“How did you even find me?” Amir asked.
“Trust me. It was a coincidence. I won’t be bothering you again.” Next time they saw each other, Amir just might shoot. He had a family to protect, and Deandre didn’t blame him for arming himself.
Once the zip-ties were on, Amir approached, his steps cautious. Deandre was a big son of a bitch, towering over the guy, intimidating as fuck. He wished he could shrink down to remove the look of fear in Amir’s eyes.
“You need serious help, Deandre. You’re delusional, and more than likely dangerous. Please get the help you need.” His eyes hardened. “And if you ever come back on my property, the cops will be hauling your dead body away.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Orlando opened the back door of his cruiser, and Deandre ducked down, cramped in the backseat. He had to lean his head to the side and his legs were pressed to his chest.
Thank fuck the ride was quick. Deandre peeled himself out, whacking his head several times. “You need bigger cars.”
“You need to be more careful.” Orlando slammed the back door. He spun his finger in a circular motion and Deandre turned around so the sheriff could cut the ties from around his wrists. Deandre rubbed where the plastic had dug into his skin. “Now tell me about this threat that led you to Dr. Nadeem’s house.”
Well, at least Deandre now knew Amir’s last name, for what good that did. “Phoenyx’s mate had an unseelie after him. But the fairy was too damn powerful to be working alone. We suspected he had help, and are trying to track down the person helping him.”
“Species?”
“Don’t know.”
“Description?”
“Don’t have a clue.”
“Then how in the fuck do you plan on finding him?” Orlando demanded. “If you have no clue what or who he is, how did you even get any intel? How do you even know it’s a he?”
“Now do you see what I’m up against?” Deandre leaned against the hood of the car and then quickly moved away when he heard metal denting.
“Seriously?” Orlando looked at his car. “You’re paying for that.”
“Send me the bill.” Deandre saw Donny walking toward them, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“I don’t even know where to send it,” Orlando said. “It’s not like my mail carrier delivers to the demon realm.” He frowned. “Do you even get mail?”
“Where the fuck were you?” Deandre asked when Donny was close enough. “Thanks for bailing on me, you rotten SOB.”
“I’m too sexy to get shot.” Donny winked. “Besides, you had it under control.”
“You two stay out of trouble,” Orlando said. “I’m going back to my desk to finish my rubber band game. Don’t make me arrest you again.”
Deandre gave Orlando a casual salute as the sheriff walked away.
“I guess we should head home since tonight was a bust.” Donny looked Deandre over. “I’m glad you weren’t shot. Let’s head to Diablo’s.”
Deandre curled his lip when he saw Donny fighting a smile. “You’re buying the first round.”
“Now you’re talking my language.” Donny clapped him on the shoulder.
They walked toward an alley, but Deandre’s mind was still back at that country home with its porch swing and a darling little girl who had trusted Deandre enough to open her window and have a conversation with him.
And the sexy daddy who hadn’t shot the tooth fairy.
Chapter Two
“Thanks for coming a little early,” Amir said when he let his best friend inside. “I have a few errands to run before heading into work.”
“Not a problem.” Zanny went right to the kitchen and started breakfast for Dahj and Flynn. “Did you eat yet?”
Eat? Hell, Amir hadn’t slept since Deandre had been hauled away. He’d checked on his children and then sat up for the rest of the night, his shotgun right next to him. “I’ll grab something at the diner.”
She came back into the living room and kissed his cheek. “You need to take better care of yourself, Amir.”
“I’ll put that on my to-do list.” He smiled and grabbed his briefcase before heading to the door. “Make sure Dahj brushes her teeth and Flynn sticks to his schedule of potty training. I think we’re close to him going from Pull-Ups to training underwear.”
She gave him a thumbs-up before returning to the kitchen. Amir usually took the time in the morning to wake his kids and give them a kiss before he hurried off to work, but he needed to stop at the station and deal with Deandre.
He’d never met a more delusional person, and, even though the guy intimidated Amir, he also fascinated him. He wanted to study Deandre, talk to him, and get inside his head.
“You are not going to be his doctor,” Amir admonished himself as he closed the front door and headed to his car. “You’re just going to talk to him and see
how obsessed he is with you.”
Amir knew that to be a lie. Whenever he focused in on someone, they had his full attention. He’d only had his practice in Brac Village for six months, but his workload was already steadily climbing. Most went to the rec center for help or the shelter where Andrew worked.
But Amir was board certified, had the credentials to open his own practice, and, wow, if Brac Village wasn’t teeming with people who needed help.
Like Deandre.
Amir parked in front of the station and got out, looking up at the sun and soaking up some of its rays before he walked inside.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked.
Amir had never been inside the police station before. It was a sea of desks, with a glassed office to his left. He saw the name, Sheriff Orlando Werth, sandblasted into the glass on the door. “Yes, I’m here to see the sheriff.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Um, no. But he was at my house last night handling something for me, and I just wanted to do a follow-up.”
“Your name?”
“Dr. Nadeem.”
“Have a seat and I’ll see if he’s available.”
Amir wanted to point out that he saw the sheriff in his glass office and he was shooting rubber bands across the room. Brac Village’s tax dollars at work.
Amir took a seat and waited patiently, looking at his watch to make sure he wasn’t late opening his own office.
The sheriff looked Amir’s way as he stuffed his pile of rubber bands into a drawer. He waved for Amir to come, so Amir got up and walked inside. “Do you have a moment?”
Dumb question as Amir stepped over the rubber bands and took a seat.
“How can I help you?” Sheriff Werth asked.
“It’s about last night.” Amir set his briefcase on the floor next to his chair. “I was wondering if I could talk to Deandre? Just for a moment.”
Amir knew something was wrong when the sheriff rubbed his nape. “I let him go.”
“You what?” He hadn’t meant to shout, but Deandre was a dangerous, delusional man who needed treatment, not let back out into society. Amir said as much.
“I know Deandre,” the sheriff said. “He’s not delusional.”
Amir sat with a stiff spine. “He said he was hunting ghosts, Sheriff. He was peeking into my windows, and you just let him walk because you’re buddies?”
Amir had let Zanny talk him into moving to Brac Village, had sworn it was a wonderful, charming town. After the tragedy Amir had been through in Denver, he’d wanted a clean break and had trusted her at her word.
Now he was wondering if he’d made the right choice. He had his children to think about, their well-being, and Zanny had assured him that Brac Village had some excellent schools.
The best mayor, too.
Although sometimes Zanny was the most unreliable person Amir knew, he didn’t think she’d lie to him about that.
So far Amir had met some very nice people and loved all the shops in town. Dahj and Flynn loved the candy store and the bakery, and Amir loved the retro diner and Jammin’ Juice Hut where he could indulge in healthy smoothies or juices.
There was even a rec center where Amir had taken his kids to do arts and crafts, and he loved the volunteers there. Johnny Stone and Dahj had hit it off instantly.
“I didn’t let him go because we’re friends. I know Deandre, but I wouldn’t call us buddies. His friend came and got him, promising to take him home.”
“And where is home?”
“Err.” Sheriff Werth strummed his fingers on his desk. “If you want, I’ll let him know you want to talk to him.”
Amir grabbed a business card out of his briefcase. “Can you give this to him? I don’t want him anywhere near my house, but I’ll see him in my office.”
The sheriff took the card and set it aside. “I’ll make sure he gets it.”
Amir wasn’t sure how much faith he had in Deandre getting his card, but there was nothing else he could do here. “Thank you for your time.”
He shook the sheriff’s hand and walked out, heading to his office. That had been a complete bust. Amir seriously doubted he’d see Deandre again.
He would’ve thought the guy was stalking him, but they’d gone their separate ways on the trail, and Amir hadn’t seen him lingering around the hotel or the airport. He’d gotten back with no sign of Deandre around.
Like Deandre had said, them seeing each other here was pure coincidence. There couldn’t be any other explanation.
Amir parked in the back of the building and let himself in through the rear entrance. He’d just settled behind his desk, looking over his appointments for the day, when he felt as if something had brushed across his nape.
Amir snapped his head around, but he was the only one in his office. It couldn’t have been a stray breeze because he hadn’t opened any windows yet and the ceiling fan was off.
He refused to be spooked. Regardless of what Deandre claimed, there were no such things as ghosts.
Deandre.
Amir didn’t even know his last name. He’d never asked, and Deandre hadn’t given it. They’d been two passing strangers on a trail and foes outside his home.
Here’s another one. I want to fuck you to find out if you’re my mate. What did that even mean? Mate? Demon realm? Demon warrior? Telekinesis?
Deandre definitely had delusions of grandeur if he thought he was sworn to protect a city that didn’t even exist. Amir knew because he’d Googled it and there had been no such place.
“You’ve always been a sucker for a hard case.” Amir rubbed his eyes and groaned. It was like some dysfunctional gene inside him that had to fix the broken, that wouldn’t allow Amir to simply walk away.
That had proven nearly fatal once already. Amir should’ve learned his lesson back in college, but there he sat, wondering if he could help Deandre.
He jerked when something slid across his cheek. Amir slapped at his face, wondering it a spider had dropped on him. He jumped from his chair and looked around, continuously touching his cheek.
Then he yelped when his landline rang. Amir snatched it up and pressed it against his ear as he forced his heart to slow down. “Dr. Nadeem’s office.”
He really did need to hire a secretary. He also needed to stop letting Deandre get under his skin. There was no such things as ghosts, damn it.
“Doc, this is Paul. Paul Jenkins.”
“Yes, I know who you are, Paul.” Amir kept looking around, trying to spot a spider web or anything that would explain what the fudge was going on.
“I need to cancel. I’m not feeling well, and if I’m sick, I don’t want you to catch anything.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Amir was listening, but not. He was allowing himself to get spooked, and this coming from someone who adamantly refused to believe in such things. “I’ll reschedule you for the same time next week.”
“Okay, thanks.” Paul hung up, but Amir let the phone linger in his hand. Now that he had spare time, maybe opening some windows and letting the sounds of town invade his office space might help to calm his edgy nerves.
It was just what Amir needed. Once the sun and breeze were inside, nothing else happened. He was able to get down to work and get on with his day with no more ghostly interruptions.
* * * *
Amir had stopped at Sweet Delights on his way home to pick up a delicious-looking cupcake for Zanny. They’d been best friends since college, and he adored her, though sometimes she truly tested his patience.
Zanny had a bad habit of taking off when life didn’t suit her. She’d always been that way. He recalled one time, about eight years ago, when she’s taken off for an entire year without picking up a phone to call him.
Again, Amir had a bad habit of wanting to fix the broken. Thank goodness she had an inheritance that she lived off of from her grandmother.
As soon as Amir came through the door, Zanny was there to greet him. “We need to t
alk,” she whispered as she looked over her shoulder.
“Where’re the kids?”
“In the kitchen eating dinner.” She pulled him back onto the porch and closed the door. Then she reached into her front pocket and took out a hundred-dollar bill. “Dahj had this. She said the tooth fairy gave it to her last night.”
Amir took the bill and looked it over. Had Deandre given this to Dahj? Had they spoken before Amir had discovered someone lurking outside his home?
“She also said she was supposed to tell you about it, but she was afraid, because she wants to buy candy with her dollar and you’ll make her save it.”
“Dollar?”
Zanny shrugged. “She thinks it’s a whole dollar.”
“I’ll handle this.” Amir stuffed the money into his pocket, knowing full well who had given it to her. He would give his daughter a single dollar and return the hundred to Deandre.
If he ever saw the guy again.
Did the guy know how bad that looked? A stranger giving a four-year-old a hundred bucks in the middle of the night, at her bedroom window?
“What’s going on, Amir?” Zanny folded her arms over his small breasts. “I know you too well, and you’ve got that look in your eyes.”
“What look?”
“Something’s bugging you. You wore that look constantly when—”
“Don’t say his name,” Amir hissed. “You’re not allowed to ever say his name.”
Amir cursed that she’d conjured images in his head. He’d fought not to think of Hasan, to not think of his tragic death. It hurt too badly, even a year later, to even think about him.
“I’m sorry.” She hugged him. “Sooner or later you have to deal with this, to open up, mourn, and move on.” She smiled when she pulled back. “Look at me giving a therapist advice about grieving.”
Amir wiped at his eyes, pissed that he’d been brought to tears. “Nothing is going on. Some delusional guy who thinks ghosts exist.”
“Ghosts?” She laughed. “Nonsense.”