by S. E. Harmon
“Nice manners, that,” I complained. “What, were you raised by wolves?”
It was a purely rhetorical question. I was pretty sure wolves would’ve elected to push Walter off a cliff as a lazy sacrifice.
“What… in sam hill… is that dog doing here?”
“I kind of adopted him,” I informed Danny. “Or we did, rather. He had no place to go. Valerie’s neighbor dropped him off at the pound.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Do you know what they do to dogs at the pound?”
“I have an idea, yes,” he said dryly.
“I’m renaming him Watson,” I said. “He deserves a fresh new start.”
He eyed Walter/Watson skeptically. “I don’t know how long that fresh start is gonna be.”
“Shh,” I hissed. “He’ll hear you. Watson’s got a lot of life left in him. You’ll see.”
Danny shuffled over to the couch and plopped down next to the dog. Watson wriggled over a tad, so his head bumped against Danny’s thigh. Obligingly, Danny scratched his ears.
“Too bad you didn’t name him Sherlock.” A small smile curved Danny’s mouth when Walter’s tail started whipping the couch frantically. “If he pooped on the floor, I could say—”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I supplied with a roll of my eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re very clever. But Watson is so close to Walter, he probably won’t even know the difference.”
“Leave it to you to have the dog of a serial killer.”
I beamed. “It’s truly… us, don’t you think?”
He laughed. “That it is.”
So that was the new addition to the household. He was a tad gassy, begged for table scraps relentlessly, and wouldn’t stay off the furniture. But I liked to look at Watson as a work in progress, much like myself.
“Rain, are you listening to me?”
I sighed to realize Dakota was still going on. “Yep, still here.” There were few things more annoying than listening to him prattle on about all things supernatural.
Ding, ding!
Except for that fucking bell. I’d given it to Danny so he could call me when he needed me. He’d tossed it on the nightstand and said he’d be fine without it. That was three days ago. He and the bell were now best friends, trying to entice me to commit murder in my own home.
The bell trilled again merrily, and I put the phone on mute. “Fuck off, McKenna,” I said loudly.
He tsked from one bedroom over. “Now is that something a future husband would say?”
I smothered a laugh. Hell, I had to be in love if taking care of the grouchiest patient on planet earth made me smile. “This future husband? Yes. What could you possibly want now?”
“Your mother is baking cookies again. I have the window open a crack, and I can smell them.”
“So?”
“So one of her oatmeal raisin cookies would go a long way to making me feel better.”
I sighed. “You know they have pot in ’em.”
“Shhh,” he said. “Plausible deniability is the phrase of the day. And last time I checked, I’m off duty.”
Fuck it, I was going to need one too if I was going to keep caring for His Majesty. “I’ll go after I get off the phone,” I said.
The bell rang again, and I growled. “McKenna—”
“I was putting it back on the table,” came his huffy reply.
He was lucky he was cute. And mine. My gaze dropped to the band on my finger, as it did at least five or six times a day. There was a wary part of me deep down inside, whispering and insinuating how dangerous it was to need someone quite so much. I couldn’t help but listen to that voice sometimes, but for the most part, I was still amazed we’d managed to put our broken relationship back together. Not only that, but we went all kintsugi on the cracks, making our love stronger than ever.
I took Dakota off Mute, and Jesus effing Christ, he was still going on. “I’ve done some research on ley lines, and I think they might be beneficial to you.”
I sat back in my chair. “They certainly might be if I knew what the heck they were.”
“They’re energy lines that intersect the planet. Almost like a doorway to the earth’s energy.” His tone indicated it wasn’t the first time he’d told me that. “You could use the proximity to a ley line to create a portal, which you would then use to return the excess energy from the spirits to the earth. And voila.”
“Voila,” I agreed, as if it wasn’t the craziest thing I’d ever discussed.
“There just happens to be one that crosses through your property. It’s probably why the ghosts are so comfortable there. They gravitate toward ley lines without realizing it,” he said. “Maybe one day, you could create a portal in the backyard.”
“An energy portal.”
“Yes.”
“In my backyard.”
“Yep,” he confirmed, an undercurrent of excitement in his tone. “Well, what do you think?”
“I think I had plans for a pool out there,” I said dryly. “And I think creating a portal to hell would mess with the feng shui.”
“It’s not a portal to hell,” he argued. “And it’s safer than the way you did things with Joseph. Or maybe you want the news reporting on freak lightning storms anytime you decide to vanquish a ghost.”
I winced. “Maybe you have a point.”
“So we’ll work on it this Saturday. I have a test in the morning, but I’m free after one,” he offered. “How about you?”
I pulled up the calendar on my phone and scrolled through it quickly. “Two thirty,” I finally said, albeit a little begrudgingly. “I have a dental appointment in the morning, and I….”
I spotted a shadow out of the corner of my eye that nearly made me drop the phone. I watched the man touching the knickknacks on my shelf, almost too thrown to make a sound. Dakota’s concerned voice asking if I was all right finally shook me out of my momentary stupefaction, and I cut him off.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “See you Saturday.”
I hung up, and Kane turned around with a smile. “So, this is where you live. I always wondered.”
“I guess now you know,” I said coolly.
I wasn’t afraid of him, per se, but I couldn’t deny that my heart rate kicked up a notch. And I couldn’t help but think about Danny, half sleeping and watching TV in the next room. Sitting at his bedside in the hospital and praying that he’d open his eyes—just one fucking time—I’d silently made a lot of promises. One of them, the most important of them, was that none of the paranormal parts of my life would ever threaten him again.
I meant it then, and I meant it now.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Nervous?”
“Not especially.”
He laughed. “You always were an overconfident little shit. I knew that from the first day you sat across from me.”
“Thanks, I missed you, too. I wasn’t sure I could scrounge up enough postage to send you a letter in hell, though.”
His expression turned less confident and mocking and more mulish. “You have no right to judge me, you know. I’m the way God made me, and if that makes me a fucking monster, then so be it.”
“You would reference God after all you’ve done?” I wasn’t angry. Just curious. He’d taken the lives of so many—what kind of comfort could he draw from traditional religion?
Kane shrugged. “Why not? You know, somewhere along the way, I realized a little something. Good isn’t supposed to win. There is no winning over evil. We merely coexist. And that’s just the way it’s supposed to be.”
“And your reckoning to the victims’ families? Any prolific thoughts on that?”
“No reckoning made but sent to my account. With all my imperfections on my head.”
I stared at him, not sure why I was surprised he would be casually quoting Hamlet. He wasn’t a stupid man, just an evil one. I thought of Hamlet’s belief in his father’s ghost’s fate, neither in hell nor heaven, but in some kind of middle world. Stuck in a state of unrest because h
e was murdered before he could repent his sins.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” I said coldly. “Past time, actually. And I’d hate to force the issue.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “And I’d hate to make a mess in your nice, little office.”
I stared at him for a few moments, contemplating my next move. I might not understand everything about my skills just yet, but I’d come a long way. That was nothing to sneeze at. For the first time in my life, I felt less like the passenger when it came to my skills, and more like the driver.
I analyzed the energy in the room silently, focusing on his body. Everything inside him was fetid and rotten, and it made spotting the glow hiding behind his liver easier than I’d expected. I tugged gently on the threads, transferring the energy effortlessly until I formed a little circle of spinning light in my hands.
He stared down at the golden orb and then at my face. He swallowed visibly, but in true Kane fashion, he was determined to bluster. “You actually think you can handle me, don’t you?”
His derisive tone told me what he wanted my answer to be—what it should be. But Kane had always been a master manipulator, and I knew he was trying to make me doubt my skills.
No sale, motherfucker. I smiled. “Try me.”
Character cheat sheet
The Nexus
Thomas Kane. "The Gardener"
The Roses
Abigail "Abby" Stockton
Bee Williams
Shawna Murphy
Jennifer Bryant
Melissa Todd
Janet Winston
Grace Bellows
Cindy May Weatherby
The Missing
Delilah Rose
The Copycat murders...maybe?
Lana Snow
Ivy Khan
Rosetta "Rosy" Smythe
The Victim
Joseph Carr
The Suspects
The ex, Alex Gilroy
The ex's wife, Sara Jamison
A kid with a grudge, Dillon Cooper
The mysterious P.I., Rex
The mother, Valerie Carr
The boyfriend, Milo Wakefield
A disgruntled parent, Kenneth Clark
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my sister, you will always get a special mention because I think you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Even though I don’t eat bread anymore. We should all eat bread. Bread saves lives. And how do you know that it DOESN’T? ::pants heavily:: Okay, what was I talking about again? Ah, yes. I love you. My sister, not bread. Thank you for all that you do.
I’d like to thank my editor, Kiyle Brosius, who did a wonderful job as always. I love fragments and I always will. I cannot be stopped. And a special thank you to the always wonderful Leslie Copeland for her mad beta reading skills. Any errors in the book are mine.
And to all the readers, thank you for giving the guys a chance. If you enjoyed it, consider leaving a review. If you didn’t enjoy it, don’t let the door hit you on the—wait, I’m supposed to be mature. Seriously, I’m grateful for all of you. None of this happens without you…just so you know. You guys are kind of amazing. So thank you.
Kelly Cannon is satisfied with his life. He has friends, a wonderful family, and a great job. But his love life has reached a new level of pitiful. Why? Well, his heart decided to break all the rules. Don’t fall in love with a straight guy. And definitely don’t fall in love with your best friend.
NFL standout Britton “Blue” Montgomery has pressure coming at him from all sides. From his father, who’s only interested in Blue’s football career. From his coaches, who just want him to play without getting injured again. From the fans. From his agent. And from his mother, who has popped up on the radar after leaving his family years before. And now his relationship with Kelly is on shaky ground, and that frightens Blue more than anything.
When Kelly admits he’s in love with Blue, bonds are tested, and Blue has to decide what’s really important. He doesn’t want to lose the number-one person in his life, but the cost to keep Kelly close might be more than he’s willing to pay.
It’s a good thing his nickname is the Blueprint—it’s time to draft a new set of plans.
A year ago, Kelly Cannon couldn’t imagine he’d end up with his formerly straight best friend. It’s hard to believe he can finally kiss Blue any time he wants… as long as they’re in private. And there’s the rub. Despite Kelly’s promise to wait until Blue is ready to come out, he’s tired of sneaking around. The cracks in their relationship are starting to show, and there might not be enough spackle in the world to fix them.
Britton “Blue” Montgomery may not be the physics brainiac his boyfriend is, but he’s not stupid. He knows Kelly isn’t completely happy. But he’s not ready to be the poster boy for bisexuals and gays in the NFL. He just wants to keep his head down, play the game he loves, and go home to the man he adores. Is that too much to ask?
With the truth slowly coming to the surface, Blue must make a choice. If it means losing Kelly, there’s no decision to make…. He has to find enough courage to face the music and hope they’ll survive the fallout.
Man. Happily-ever-afters may not be just for Disney princesses, but they sure are a lot of work.
SSA Rain Christiansen used to be the agency’s golden boy. It just takes one moment of weakness, one slight, tiny, itty-bitty paranormal sighting, and all of a sudden he’s the agency’s embarrassment. His boss gives him one last chance to redeem himself—go down to Brickell Bay, play nice with the local police, and leave the ghost sightings behind. Rain is determined to do exactly that, even if it kills him.
Cold-case detective Daniel McKenna’s latest investigation is going nowhere fast. Five years earlier, high school student Amy Greene went missing after leaving her part-time job and was never seen again. Daniel is glad to finally have the FBI help that his department requested, even if it does come in the form of his ex.
It doesn’t help that Rain is pretty sure he’s falling in love with Danny all over again—if he ever stopped. Add to that the frustration of seeing ghosts at every turn while he works a case that’s stalled in its tracks, and Rain is starting to wonder if second chances and happy endings are just for fairy tales.
No one said being a medium would be easy.
Rain Christiansen, former FBI agent and current cold case detective, is starting to think it's the hardest job he's ever had—and the most important. He's determined to accept all the changes in his formerly well-ordered life, but that means embracing a whole lot of weird. There's no instruction manual for meshing his work with his medium duties, and he's painfully aware that he's flubbing the job. So are the ghosts, who are becoming increasingly impatient. And stronger.
To complicate matters, he's not sure what these spooktacular developments mean for his relationship. It certainly seems like Daniel McKenna, his partner in work and life, is in it for the long haul. But Rain can't help but wonder how long that patience will last...and what he'll do if Danny decides the intrusive ghosts are just too much.
Rain thought accepting his supernatural gifts would be the solution to his troubles. But he's starting to realize his problems are just getting started.
Private investigator Mackenzie Williams’s newest client is everything he’s looking for in a guy—charming, beautiful, intelligent, and successful. There's only one itty bitty problem—the guy’s not exactly gay. In fact, Jordan Channing is looking for a PI to follow his fiancée. The smart thing would be to thank Jordan for his time, turn Mr. Perfect away (don’t let the door hit you on the rump, thank you very much), and forget he exists.
Of course, Mackenzie has never been accused of doing the smart thing. Being smart aleck is more his MO. Relationships aren’t up his alley, never have been. So why’s he so inexplicably drawn to his new client?
Jordan has always been the high achiever, a man who lives in a focused, controlled, and carefully constructed manner. But for the first time in his life, he has to admit the
impossible—another man is getting his engine running on all cylinders. Despite Jordan’s denial, it’s not long before he can no longer resist the strong undercurrents pulling them together. Now Jordan must decide if he can go against everything he’s ever known to have the only love he’s ever wanted.
Screenwriter Noah Ashley has a few four-letter words for his agent when she suggests he improve his script by shadowing a PI. Still, because he’s an artist dedicated to his craft and she knows where the bodies are buried, he agrees. Then he spends a little time with the gorgeous PI, and suddenly it seems like a really good plan. The PI doesn’t seem to entirely love the idea, but Noah has never been afraid to go after what he wants.
PI Drew Rodriguez is used to people depending on him. He’s the classic rock for his family. Responsible. Dependable. The classic rock would never succumb to the borderline sleazy temptation of friends with benefits, no matter how sexy that temptation is. Drew is looking for something enduring.
Despite Drew’s misgivings, it’s not long before they’ve got all the requisites for friends with benefits going. Friendly, good conversation? Check. Fun times in and out of bed? Check. Hot, electrolyte-sapping sex? Double check. Falling in love? Yeah. About that….
Sometimes what starts out as fake can get all too real.
Things started out innocently enough. Put on the spot by my sister about going on a blind date, I mention I’m already dating someone else. But then she wants to meet him. Better yet, she wants me to bring him to our upcoming family gathering so he can meet everyone. Which would be a fantastic idea if he wasn’t a complete work of fiction.