by Lotta Smith
Wicked of the Christmas Past
Paranormal in Manhattan Mystery:
Book 4
By Lotta Smith
Copyright
Wicked of the Christmas Past© 2016 Lotta Smith.
Cover copyright 2016 Viola Estrella
Editing and proofreading: Hot Tree Editing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without express written permission from the author/and publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents and places are the products of the author’s imagination, and are used fictitiously. None of the characters in this book is based on an actual person. Any resemblance to locales, actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and an unintentional.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Table of content
Prologue: Part I
Prologue: Part II
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
EPILOGUE
About the author
Prologue: Part I
11:42 p.m., Christmas Eve, Last Year…
She was lying there, motionless. She was so still, to the point of almost looking like a dead body.
It was one of those chilling winter nights in Manhattan where you felt cold to the bone. Laid out cold, she still had feelings…. She could feel her blood draining out of herself.
Oddly, she didn’t feel pain. That was truly strange, considering she fell from her balcony on the fifth floor and she had a huge gash in her head.
Am I going to die? she wondered. She was in her condo’s perimeter, but she had a hunch that her fellow residents weren’t likely to notice her demise anytime soon. Thanks to her still-intact hearing, she could hear people laughing, singing, and having a good time.
Her situation reminded her of the many victims she’d killed off in the past. She let out a low chuckle and grimaced. For the first time, she felt a scathing pain.
The snow flurried over her body.
She wondered whether or not her death was going to be ruled as a suicide…
And if this day was going to be the last for Carina Christien…
Prologue: Part II
4:23 p.m., July 8th
Rick Rowling twitched his eyebrows as he felt a jolt of pain in his right leg. Originating from the ankle, the pulsating sensation shot through his lower leg and thigh, followed by a dull heat sweeping up to his buttocks.
Realizing that he’d unwittingly moved his broken ankle while dozing on the sofa, he felt like cursing.
Instead, he lay there unmoving, keeping his eyes tightly shut. Cursing was tempting, but considering he felt like he’d been in a train wreck, it wasn’t such a good idea. In an attempt to brush off the pain, he tried to focus on something different, like the ski trip he’d planned recently, but that thought made him even more miserable. According to the doctor, going on a ski trip in his condition, even though it was only a little crack in a small bone, was the silliest idea she’d heard in months.
Wrinkling his nose, Rick wondered what had gotten him into this mess. Though he’d always prided his sharp reflexes, some recklessness and a freak accident were enough to get him hurt. Under normal circumstances, there was no way he’d succumb to such a ridiculous injury as having his leg crushed by a bookcase that was falling very slowly.
Still, I couldn’t just run away and watch her get squashed, he concluded, recalling the incident just hours ago.
When he saw Mandy, his assistant, frozen in place as the bookcase threatened to smash her, he instinctively ran toward the collapsing furniture. Anyone with elementary school-level physics knowledge knew that running toward the falling object—especially a heavy object—was a bad idea, but he dared to do it, and with a full understanding of the consequences.
What was I thinking? Did I have some childish delusion of being Batman or some other superhero with a silly name? He wasn’t big about sacrificing himself, but he just couldn’t stand the possibility of Mandy being wounded.
Maybe it was the pain meds messing with his head, but he suddenly found a crooked humor in the whole situation. Then he was chuckling like an idiot, which led to immediate regret, another jolt of pain shooting up his leg.
“Shit!” Growling, he stretched an arm, grabbing for the air. He was taken by surprise when another hand took his.
When he opened his eyes, he found Mandy holding his hand in hers, sitting by his side in his living room.
“Rick, are you okay? You’ve been asleep for about an hour, but you didn’t look well for the past couple minutes. Did you have a bad dream or something?” She looked at him with genuine concern in her eyes.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, confused by the sight of her at his home. “Mandy, what are you doing here?”
She furrowed her eyebrows in response and gave his hand a gentle pat. “I’m staying here with you to help you get around until you heal. By the way, you’re the one who came up with this plan, rejecting your doctor’s suggestion to arrange a nurse, remember?”
“Oh, now I remember,” he whispered softly, recalling the conversation.
“Good.” She nodded, releasing her hand from his and gently touching his right shin. “Ooh, look at your leg. It’s swollen. Does it hurt?”
“Um… yeah. It’s a little bit sore.” He let out a sigh, thinking ‘a little bit sore’ was the understatement of the year. He avoided looking at his bad leg, but assuming from the persistent heat and tightness, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to picture an ankle the size of a melon.
“I’ll get you some ice to put on it. How does that sound?”
“I like that. Thanks.”
“No problem. One moment.” Mandy stood up and scurried to the bar counter to fix an ice bag.
Watching her scooping ice cubes into a plastic bag, a smile worked its way across Rick’s face.
Maybe it’s not as bad as it seemed.
Spending a whole summer recovering from an injury sucked big-time, not to mention his leg was still throbbing like hell. Then again, the prospect of Mandy staying with him and caring for him blew away all the setbacks.
He really, really liked the arrangement.
CHAPTER 1
1:34 p.m., December 10th
It started with a phone call.
On a lazy Saturday afternoon, I was at home, sitting on the sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, taking in the unobstructed view of Midtown Manhattan and people frolicking to the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.
Yes, you heard me right. I could see New York City’s most iconic Christmas tree from my living room!
Okay, so technically, it wasn’t my living room. The lavish condo, including but not limited to the state-of-the-art library and the huge blue marble hot tub, belonged to Ric
k Rowling, my condo-mate who also happened to be my boss at the FBI’s Paranormal Cases Division.
At the moment, he was out and I was pretending to be the queen of the place, admiring the Christmas tree down below and the one in Rick’s living room, which we’d recently installed. While trying to figure out what was inside the Christmas gift addressed to me—my guess was a teddy bear, assuming from the shape, though it could’ve been a rabbit with the ears folded—I was having me-time, reading a hot, steamy romance by Violet Huss, an emerging author whose works started to appear on multiple bestsellers’ lists.
In my head, I was picturing Bella, the heroine, and Henry, the hero—a self-made billionaire CEO who was also a vampire—engaging in kinky sex in the hot tub. As I wondered why it was as easy as eating a cupcake for fictional characters to have sex, and how spanking and drinking each other’s bodily fluid—I mean, yuck!—had become such a rage nowadays, Jackie popped up from out of nowhere.
“Hey, girlfriend. What’s up?”
“I’m good, thanks. How are you?” I smiled nonchalantly but briskly switched off the screen of my Kindle.
“Come on, Mandy. You don’t need to hide it from me.” Jackie winked. “I love steamy romance books sooo much! And I’ll tell you, Violet Huss is my favorite author!” Jackie was in her usual getup of a colorful, skimpy top, but her short skirt had changed its colors into red and white, just like Santa Claus. Her necklace screaming ‘FESTIVE’ was gleaming like the lights on a Christmas tree.
“Excuse me? Don’t tell me you’ve been snooping on me all the while.” I narrowed my eyes.
“I wasn’t snooping. Hey, don’t look at me like a stalker. I have my life, and I have my way of reading whatever I want to read.” She ran her hand through her long mane and gave me a full-body once-over.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged. “I was just thinking about the sacrilege of wasting your time reading steamy romance considering you’re still living with Rick Rowling, one of the hottest bachelors in Manhattan. Hey, I have a suggestion. Why not quit reading about a good girl having kinky sex with an alpha male and just do it yourse—”
“Jackie!” I snapped before the ghost of a drag queen finished her sentence. I would have slapped her, if only she were touchable. Instead, I said, “Hey, I’ve been thinking about taking exorcism classes from Brian Powers. What do you think?”
“Oh my God, I’m scared,” she said flatly.
Then my cell phone chirped. I gave Jackie a menacing glare and took the call. “Hello.”
“Hi, Mandy. How are you?” The voice of Daniel Rowling, a.k.a. Dan, trickled into my ear. His voice was deep, smooth, and sexy. Maybe sexier than his son’s.
“I’m great. Thank you. So, how have you been?” As I responded, I was almost compelled to add “sir?” but instead I said, “Dan?”
“I’m peachy. Peachier than ever.” He chuckled. “By the way, Mandy, I’m glad to be on a first-name basis with you.” We weren’t video-chatting, but I could see him winking in my mind’s eye.
“If you prefer to be addressed as ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Rowling,’ I can switch to them any time.” I laughed. Dan was Rick’s father and a real-life billionaire CEO of a security-based conglomerate called USCAB—United States Cover All Bases. I used to know him only from his photos in Forbes magazine, but when I got to know him in person, he turned out to be quite a friendly guy. “By the way, Rick’s at the gym. Do you want me to try calling him?”
“No need to call him. I’m calling you, not my son. Also, I’m good with my current title of Dan. Nothing’s as sad as being called ‘sir’ by my son’s girlfriend.” He dropped the G-bomb while I was taking a sip of hot tea, catching me by surprise. When I started coughing violently, he asked, “What? Mandy, do you have a cold or something?”
“N-n-no… but, g-g-g-girlfriend?” I stuttered, choking on tea.
“What? Did I say anything wrong?” Dan asked casually. “Considering that you’re still living with Rick even after his leg has healed, I’m guessing you and he are an item. Oh, don’t tell me you guys haven’t yet—”
“So Dan, what’s the special occasion for calling me?” I interrupted before he fished for too much information.
My name is Amanda Meyer, but most people, including Dan, call me Mandy. I’m a former medical student turned FBI special assistant. I used to commute to the FBI in Downtown from my parents’ home in Queens, but for the past few months, things had drastically changed. I’d sort of moved in to the extravagant condo on Fifth Avenue, the residence of Rick Rowling, my boss.
Unlike what Dan had just said, however, I was only his son’s assistant. Under normal circumstances, you didn’t cohabitate with your boss, but a twist of fate peppered with a freak accident and a broken ankle brought me to this living arrangement. It was supposed to be temporary until Rick’s leg healed, but for some reason, my folks brought some of my stuff to the condo every time they brought dinner and dessert for us. Around the time Rick’s leg had actually healed, they decided to tear down my room for renovation so that Emma and Minty, my nieces, could have more sleepovers. And guess what? They knew I was still in debt up to my neck with my student loan and I didn’t have money to rent my own space.
Rick had many spare rooms in his 5,000-square-foot condo, and he said I could stay for free if I occasionally cooked our breakfast. If it were a movie or TV series, we’d be madly in love by now, or at least having kinky sex every day. Still, it was my life and things had never worked out like fiction….
Okay, so there were some moments that had promise to turn out intimate, but every time—and I mean every time—something happened to destruct the intimacy. For instance, when we visited Central Park for a picnic, a bomb exploded in the park and the ghost of a cold murder case victim pestered me until I told Rick his alleged killer’s name. I intended to put the case on hold until Monday, or at least until we finished kissing and what might have followed it, but the ghost was so impatient. Oh, and then there’s Jackie constantly popping up from out of nowhere. Anyway, neither of us had uttered the big L-word to each other, and nowadays, I often found myself wondering if perhaps romance didn’t mix well with my life.
“Okay, let’s talk about the special occasion.” As I silently went on and on about the potential issues in my mind, I could picture Dan grinning. “Have you heard of Violet Huss?”
“Of course,” I said casually. “Everyone has heard of her. She’s famous, you know.” I didn’t say I was in the middle of devouring her romance novel.
“Excellent. You saved me some explanation. Next Saturday, I’ve got a dinner date with Violet, and Mandy, you’re invited. Be sure to bring Rick with you to make it a double date,” he said matter-of-factly, his words sounding more like a statement than a suggestion.
“Ohmygawd! You’re having dinner with Violet Huss! I’m sooo jealous!” Jackie shrieked by my ear.
“That’ll be brilliant, but I have to ask Rick about his schedule,” I said, fighting the urge to shush Jackie and do some tippy-toed happy dance. Oh my God! I’m invited to a dinner with Violet Huss!
“Come on, Mandy.” Dan tsked. “All you need to do is ask him out for dinner. He’ll come. Six thirty at Per Se. If the guy says no, you just give me a call. I’ll make him come. Your hotline with me is open 24/7. Are we cool?”
“Yes, we’re cool,” I said. I wasn’t sure if Rick was cool about this double date arrangement with his dad, but I wanted to have a dinner with Violet Huss.
“Good. Then I’ll see you next week.”
We exchanged the usual “have a great weekend” and simultaneously disconnected at the count of three.
* * *
A week later, I was deliriously happy at Per Se.
Eating at one of the most beloved restaurants clad in a little black dress was fun—especially when my date happened to be Rick Rowling. Also, I had become a huge fan of Violet Huss.
Violet was in her early forties, a real woman with the most beautiful violet ey
es I’d ever seen. She was sophisticated and a truly awesome person. I asked her a ton of questions—because Jackie urged me to—and Violet always came up with honest but hilarious answers. Indeed, she was hysterically fun, and I found her raspy voice to be totally captivating.
According to Dan, Violet was ‘researching’ him for her next book featuring a billionaire CEO who was a mortal human.
“Research? What kind of research is that? Talk about smooth words making a difference,” Rick muttered into my ear, and I almost snorted mushed and creamed Yukon potato out of my nose. Thank God I didn’t end up spewing my dinner all over. I was wearing a good dress for the occasion, and Rick was looking handsome in a black suit and black tie. The suit complimented his 6’2” stature, with long legs supporting a men’s underwear model-worthy body. Looking like a toddler after having too much milkshake wasn’t high on my to-do list.
Even though Rick’s previous comments about his father and his date were cynical, he seemed to be enjoying the evening. I was so grateful that, when our eyes met, I whispered, “Thanks for coming.”
“My pleasure.” As he whispered back, his mesmerizing green eyes twinkled. At first, he was reluctant about this double-date arrangement, but he agreed to come with me when I told him how much I wanted to see Violet Huss in person.
When the dessert and coffee/tea were served to our table, Dan and Violet exchanged glances.
Rick suddenly looked at his phone. “Oh, crap. Looks like we have a new case. I’d like to stay longer, but we have to leave.” He stood up and took my arm.
“But Rick, I didn’t notice any incoming messages,” I pointed out and reached for my phone. More importantly, I hadn’t had dessert, which looked more than tempting. But before I could check for the messages, my eyes widened. “Wha—mmm!” Rick shut me up by kissing me on the lips while helping me to my feet.
“Wait a minute, Richard Alexander Rowling.” Dan tsked before our lips parted. “If you’re seriously thinking about sneaking out by faking a case and kissing your girlfriend, you’re a pathetic optimist. Besides, you’re not having any cases tonight. I had a word with Hernandez. Now sit down and enjoy the dessert. By the way, I have a favor to ask you.”