by RJ Blain
Since Quinn had ripped the sundress in his hurry to get it off me, I wore pajamas. Leaving for the station at nine at night justified my choice. Since he wasn’t letting me stay in his house alone, I’d stolen his blanket off his bed and stuffed it in a bag along with a pair of jeans, white t-shirt, and a black leather coat so I’d have something to wear when I went shopping for a new wardrobe.
“We don’t have time to go back to bed again.”
“I can dream, can’t I? It’s not my fault they hosed me down. It’s their fault I caught a cold.”
“Bailey.”
“What?”
“Just shut up and get your ass in the convertible.”
“But I can’t. I’m trapped.”
He chuckled, dropped another kiss on my lips, and pulled away. “Don’t touch any buttons, you. You’re a disaster waiting to happen, and I like that car. If you start pressing buttons, I’m certain you’ll find a way to break it.”
“That’s me. Bailey, the walking catastrophe.” I sighed, snatched the bag of clothes and pilfered blanket, and dragged it to his car. While I could have put my ill-gotten gains in the two seater’s trunk, I crammed it between my feet to prove I could make everything fit despite his doubts. “Hah. I told you I’d fit. Hey, wait a minute. I’m the one who’s supposed to be bossing you around.”
“We’re not in the house anymore, so deal with it, Gardener.”
True, the garage technically wasn’t in the house. “So I guess I can’t get you to start stripping out of your uniform in the car?”
“Not a chance.”
“Damn, Quinn. You’re mean.”
“No. If I were mean, I’d be taking you to the hospital instead of to the station, where I’m sure you’ll give every on-duty officer your cold. I really should take you to see your doctor. It’s right on the way.”
“Please don’t.”
“Then you better buckle up, shut up, and sleep quietly on my couch while I keep a close eye on you.”
I snorted. “You’re not going to be watching me. You’re going to be sleeping on your desk while drooling on your paperwork, Chief.”
“You’re worth it.”
I blushed. His statement, spoken with a smug smile, made me wonder just how long he’d been interested in me. Why? Why couldn’t I work up the nerve to ask him how he could possibly like me enough to want to sleep with me, especially after I had photographed his wife with another man? Guilt gnawed away at me, and I shifted on the leather seat.
“Put your seatbelt on, Bailey. Cop, remember? There’s no way I’m leaving my driveway if you aren’t buckled in.”
Ah, right. Wearing my seatbelt would help, wouldn’t it? I buckled in and sighed. “Even after…?”
Maybe he’d be able to read my mind so I wouldn’t have to ask him. I could say demeaning things about myself all day long, but when it came to apologizing or asking important questions, I failed in a spectacular fashion.
“You’re something else. Did it ever occur to you that maybe you did me a huge favor? I knew long before I had solid proof. Audrey was a lot of things, but she wasn’t discreet, nor was she very good at covering her tracks. Just so we’re clear, I’ll be very blunt: she was sneaking in home pregnancy tests when we hadn’t been sleeping together often—if at all. Exhibit one: she made no effort to hide her period. Exhibit two: she developed a habit of doing a pregnancy test four or five days after her trysts. At least she had the brains to sleep around outside my house rather than inside. I had other suspicions, too. No, I was more than happy about getting out of that relationship, and you provided all the proof I needed.”
I had a feeling Audrey had taken someone for a ride in Quinn’s backyard. Yick. Central Park was bad enough, but out where the neighbors might spot her? “Wow. Why bring me into it?”
“I figured if I had the Calamity Queen’s help, I’d catch her in the worst way possible. That way, I’d get through the divorce without her trying to pull any of her crazy shit. It worked, mostly. I didn’t anticipate her brother getting hold of gorgon dust and a cellphone bomb. I’m so sorry you got involved in that mess.”
Were there people seriously calling me the Calamity Queen? “Please tell me no one actually calls me the Calamity Queen.”
“I plead the Fifth.”
I groaned. “Maybe it’s true, but that’s terrible, Quinn. Anyway, it’s better he did the dust and bomb against me. I’m immune. You’re not.”
“I’m still sorry you got involved in their crazy shit.”
Crazy was one way to put it. The dust and bomb was one level of crazy. My desire to jump Quinn in his own car before we ever made it to the station bordered on insane. Then again, crazy was my reaction to him. I’d have enough trouble keeping my hands to myself on the drive to Manhattan. Just the thought of possibly going three months without finding my way into his bed frustrated me. Why would Audrey even consider abstaining? “All right. I give. How the hell did she keep her hands off you for so long?”
“I’m still trying to figure out how you kept your hands off me for so long. Years, even. Do you really think of me as various models?”
“God, no!” I sucked in a breath. “Wait. That really happened?”
“Yes, Bailey. Yes, it did. You really hated my Lakers jersey, too—so much you demanded I strip out of it. Perkins wouldn’t stop laughing. He even caught a video of you on the strong painkillers. From what we’ve pieced together, we suspect you were hallucinating. Your hospital room was apparently occupied by a bunch of spiders. Most women scream when they see spiders. You? No, you were in tears begging us to bring them flies so they wouldn’t starve to death.”
I had no memory of any spiders, real or hallucinatory. “I did no such thing.”
“You did. We have video evidence, Bailey. I’m not above using it as blackmail. While I’d like your promise you’ll sleep with me again, I’ll negotiate to keep the videos a secret.”
If Quinn wanted to play, I’d play—and I’d love every second of it. “I’m going to need to see proof of this video’s existence before I agree to anything.” If he couldn’t figure out I had every intention of learning the art of seduction with him as my test subject, he deserved to squirm. “You could be making that up just to get me to sleep with you again. You’re going to have to do better than that, Chief Quinn.”
“For such a recently deflowered virgin with a reputation for being a thorn bush without a single rose, it didn’t take you long to figure out how to use your feminine wiles against me.”
“Deflowered? The historic romance section just called. They’re looking for their lost stud.”
“When you’re good, you’re good, and I’m good. I can’t help it I’m so good I’m timeless.”
Why me? “If thinking that helps you sleep at night…”
“I think I’ll be enjoying something a lot better in my near future.”
Yes, please. I thanked the universe so it wouldn’t kick my ass for being ungrateful. Then again, maybe I was just having a really great dream, one where I had a cold and someone willing to pamper me and feed me tidbits of grilled steak and grapes in his tub to make me feel better. “Keep dreaming, Quinn.”
I made it all the way to Quinn’s office, where I collapsed onto his couch and didn’t budge for at least eight hours. I had a faint recollection of people trying to talk to me on the way in, although I couldn’t remember who or why. Quinn’s blanket smelled like him, and I woke to him talking on the phone with someone, his tone warning me the caller tested every last bit of his patience. Since listening in was rude, I pulled his blanket over my head and burrowed under the throw pillow.
It felt like an eternity before he finally hung up. “Rise and shine, Gardener. You’re going to love this.”
I was going to love murdering whoever was behind me having to get off the couch. “I’m going to love what? Actually, there is no chance I will love anything. I will kill whoever just called, and when I’m done tossing them out the window by their entrail
s, I’ll light them on fire. Go away. I’m going back to bed.”
“Defenestrate.”
“What?”
“Defenestrate and disembowel. Those are the words you want. You’re going to disembowel Yale and defenestrate his corpse. If you’re going to kill someone, at least take the time to do it properly.”
“That was Professor Yale?”
“It sure was.”
The identity of the caller confirmed I didn’t want to know what was going on. “I’m sleeping. Good night.”
“It’s morning, and in the past ten minutes, there have been six gorgon bile reports, two incidents involving harpies, a phoenix sighting, and a swarm of pixies on a sugar high. Yale called me to get you to deal with the bile.”
“Ask the phoenix to deal with the bile.” I shivered. “It is bile, right?”
“While tempting to find someone brave enough—and stupid enough—to approach a phoenix and ask it to deal with a group of drunk gorgons, I suspect it wouldn’t work out too well for the city. Turns out the gorgons went to a bar, got hammered, and tried to walk home afterwards. They made it about a mile before they decided to sit down and play with their own vomit. These specific gorgons are registered as living in New Jersey.”
“They were trying to walk to New Jersey?”
“From Lower Manhattan. They used to be very drunk, now they’re very hungover.”
“If you ask really nicely, maybe the CDC will take pity on you and take care of everything except your pixie problem.”
“They are.”
I rolled over and pulled his blanket tighter around me. “I’m going back to sleep, Quinn.”
“Would you believe that the CDC suggested I contact some woman named Bailey Gardener to make sure the gorgons headed home without further incident and decontaminate the sidewalk and bar?” Quinn chuckled.
I peeked out from beneath the blanket and pillow. “I hate you.”
The police chief propped his feet up on his desk and smirked at me. “I told them I might know someone named Bailey Gardener. You were looking for a new job anyway, right? I’m pretty sure cleaning up gorgon bile is your favorite thing on Earth.”
“I would rather deal with the pixies.”
“Oh? Are you volunteering? That could be arranged—after you check out the bile situation.” Quinn reached for his phone and pressed a few buttons. “Calems, bring your partner to my office. I have a job for you.”
“You’re really going to make me deal with more bile, aren’t you?”
“I’d send Perkins with you so he’d have a real reason to throw up, but it’s his day off. Have fun, Gardener. Try not to napalm anything this time.”
“I hate you so, so much.”
Chapter Twelve
Officer Calems’s partner was a werewolf, and he herded me out of Quinn’s office with snarls and bared teeth. Only threats of mutiny and grand theft police cruiser bought me enough time to change into too tight jeans, a white shirt, and my new black leather jacket. One of the on-duty cops stuck in the station doing paperwork stole my pajamas and gave me my wallet in exchange.
Damn it. The werewolf with two-inch long fangs driving me away from Quinn was bad enough, but I had left my wallet in his office? I hated mornings. Why couldn’t I be back in bed? I’d settle for Quinn’s couch in his office, warm, cozy, and safe.
The werewolf growled at me, and I turned to face him. Werewolves qualified to work on the police force had three forms: human, wolf, and a blend of both. Officer O’Daniel was in his blended form and wore a special uniform designed for his hybrid body. He showed me his teeth again.
I curled my lip and showed him mine. “Go ahead. Push me, fluffy. I’ll eat you.”
If people were expecting a nice, coherent me before I had time to wake up and drink some coffee, they were out of their minds. And so help me, if Officer Fluffy barked at me, I’d sock him in the snout so hard he’d yip his way back to Quinn with his tail tucked between his legs.
Werewolves. Ugh. At least O’Daniel seemed tame enough; I made it all the way to the garage without having to pick a fight with him, one he’d probably win considering he was waist high on all fours and probably more than six feet when he stood upright.
At least he kept his nose to himself and didn’t try to mark his territory. Once I could talk without growling worse than he did, I’d ask him why he was running around on all fours with a furry coat.
“Your tailoring bill must be atrocious.” I glared at the cruiser, sighed, and crawled into the back, shutting the door before the werewolf got any crazy ideas about joining me and using my lap as a pillow.
Both cops shot dirty looks my way before getting in the car. Yep, O’Daniel was easily six and a half feet tall if not pushing seven.
I really needed to stop my mouth from blurting whatever it felt like. “What? I haven’t had coffee yet.”
“Heard you had a smart mouth, Gardener,” the werewolf growled at me.
I liked Quinn’s snarls a lot better. Yep, I had it bad. Did infatuation classify as a dangerous disease? It needed to be; my common sense had already abandoned ship, and at the rate I was going, my self-respect and dignity would soon follow. “I can finally die happy. Word of my infamous smart mouth has spread. My work on this Earth is done.”
Officer Calems snickered, slid behind the wheel, and started the cruiser’s engine. “No wonder you drive the chief crazy. You can’t help it, can you? I’m genuinely surprised he hasn’t gagged you yet. It’s so refreshing to see someone get on his nerves. Reminds us all he’s actually human.”
Great. I had a reputation for pissing Quinn off? Wait. That was a good thing. It dawned on me I couldn’t let anyone suspect there was anything going on between us. He’d never live it down, choosing to sleep with the crazy, scarred CDC chick. “Does he even know how to use his handcuffs? I thought they were decorations he used to convince people he’s actually a cop.”
“How is it possible for someone like you to have top-level certification?” Calems shook his head and backed the car out of its spot, and I remembered I needed to wear a seatbelt without anyone reminding me. Go me, acting like an adult for a change.
I decided the truth worked best since no one would believe it anyway. “Once upon a time, a woman went to a bar, got drunker than a skunk, forgot to take birth control, and got knocked up. Nine months later, yours truly was born, and the woman’s random hookup coerced her into marrying him using me as blackmail material.”
Ah, I loved the sound of stunned silence.
“Okay, only part of that is true. He didn’t coerce her into marrying him. Dear old Dad comes from a stuffy traditionalist family who doesn’t believe in abortion or adoption, so to avoid losing his inheritance or smearing the family name in the dirt, they claim it was love at first sight while they pretend the worst mistake of their lives was never born.”
Nope, I wasn’t bitter, not at all. I’d have to work on that. If I was going to use them as a shield, I’d have to at least try to sound cheerful about it.
“That… doesn’t explain how you ended up working for the CDC as a specialist.”
Since when had I gone from overpaid janitor to a specialist? “Since abortion or adoption Simply Wasn’t Done, I became known as the family disease, the ruiner of lives. It was great fun, especially when they took me to every single meet and greet of magical beings. They thought they’d solve their problem if they left me unattended near the gorgons’ tent, hoping they could pretend I was an actual statue and not petrified. Nope, no such luck for them. Too bad!”
There. I sounded a lot happier about the whole thing. Who knew I could actually sound so chipper?
“I can’t tell if you’re yanking my chain, and that’s really freaking me out, Gardener.”
I added Calems to my short list of people I actually liked. “They found me playing jumprope with the whelps and a few statues; a couple of humans had had the bright idea of trying to make a profit by kidnapping a few young gorgons. So, not o
nly was I the unwanted daughter, I didn’t uphold the Gardener pure vanilla family values to their satisfaction. What sort of freak is immune to gorgons, anyway?”
Yep, I was totally bitter about the whole thing.
“Whoa. You’re really immune to gorgons? Not just their bile or dust?”
“Oh, piece of advice. Don’t let a gorgon bite you. It hurts like hell. That venom’s just plain nasty. Since I don’t petrify, I itch, and it makes me really, really pissy.”
“Good to know. Do I want to know the rest of this story? Why am I certain there’s a rest of this story?”
I chuckled. “That’s because you’re smart. And you do. You so do.”
“All right. Hit us with it.”
“I did it out of pure spite. They said it wasn’t proper. When that didn’t work, they told me I wasn’t smart enough. When that didn’t work, they swore I’d never amount to anything. That was when they told me if I was so sure I could do it, to get out and go do it, but to never bother them again. Top of my class, top-level certification later, I showed them.”
I sure had, and the one time I had made the mistake of asking them for anything, I still hadn’t been good enough for them. Why had I even tried? I blamed the fever.
“That’s impressive and terrifying. I could have sworn you worked as a barista.”
“Used to. I quit.”
I frowned. Wait. Why had Mary gone with Quinn and left me alone on that nightmare all-day solo shift? Damn it, I was supposed to be mad at him over that, not sleeping with him. Hmm. Maybe I could still sleep with him while pissed off? The idea would need to undergo a great deal of testing.
“If you’re looking for work, the coffee at the station sucks.”
Since reaching between the seats wasn’t possible thanks to the cage that kept criminals away from the cops, I forced my best smile. “You wish, Calems.”
A mile long trail of vomit lined with statues promised a lousy day of hard work was ahead of me. I suspected karma was somehow at play. Since I had glimpsed the heavens through Quinn and his sinful touch, I just had to get kicked out and suffer through hell. “Is it premeditated murder if I kill those gorgons after I finish cleaning up their mess?”