Magic After Dark: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Margo Bond Collins

  His tip nudged my entrance, and I wriggled to give him full access. When he pushed into me, I mewled, clenching the bedsheets. He fit perfectly and together we moved fast, falling into a rhythm, the slaps a familiar song. Grasping my hips, he drew me against him with each thrust, and his moans had me begging for more.

  “Scream for me, babe.” His fingers teased my inner lips, lightly tapping them. Pleasure shuddered through me, and the urgency to explode reached a new peak. I climaxed faster than humanly possible.

  I screamed and trembled in his arms.

  Ryker penetrated deep inside, pulsing, his groaning driving me insane with desire. No protection required as I’d had a contraceptive implant… Better than remembering to take a pill every morning.

  My legs quivering, my libido was satisfied, my pulse racing. “Hell, you’re an animal.”

  “It’s all you.” Ryker climbed alongside me, the mattress indenting as he lay down. I curled into his embrace, my back to his chest, his arms seatbelts.

  “How about we go away this weekend?” he asked. “A long drive to get away. What do you say?”

  “I’d love that.”

  I hugged his arm because in his strong embrace, nothing touched me. I shut my eyes, bathing in his warmth, his protection. Ryker was that for me— always adoring me, always putting me first, always safe.

  Bright light burned against my eyelids, and I turned over, burying my head beneath a pillow. I lay with the previous night’s events steamrolling through me. So many questions and no answers. Dante had said Dash had changed since I’d last seen him. Had he gotten involved with the wrong gang? Made a deal he shouldn’t have? Dante would be on it as soon as he found out and if anyone could track down a solution, it was him. This wasn’t my problem to solve, considering I still hadn’t discovered evidence for the fate of the dead kid last seen at Little J’s.

  Tomorrow I was meeting with the parents. Seeing them empty-handed wasn’t an option. When they’d first come to see me, their expressions had broken me. The mother had cried non-stop, and the father hadn’t been much different with his red-rimmed eyes. That was my mission: Find little Peter’s body, starting with visiting the gymnasium again. When I’d touched Peter’s jacket, the one the cops had found near Little J’s, my vision had revealed a dirt track and the rear door to Little J’s. Many crimes in Amber City ended unsolved, and that was where I helped. The guys at the precinct drowned in paperwork, so many went unattended.

  I slid out from under the pillow and looked over at Ryker, who lay on his back, asleep. With the morning light hitting the side of his face, it gave him a handsome glow. How’d I get lucky enough to win him? Since we’d gotten together, everything had just locked into place; we respected each other’s independence but spent time off together. Part of me wondered if we would eventually move in together.

  We’d first met on a crime scene. A heroin addict had been carved with a knife. I’d fainted at the sight, and Ryker had been there when I’d woken up, offering me crackers. Twelve months later and we we’re still together. I stared at the divot on his lower lip as if I could map out each line I’d kissed. Looking away seemed impossible, yet my mind fell at the mercy of questions about whether or not this was the real thing.

  The sun heated my back through the window. If I remained in bed, we’d end up having sex again. Except I had a dead kid’s body to track down. I leaned closer to Ryker, his arm scorching hot against me, and kissed his cheek.

  “Heading off. Call you later,” I whispered.

  His eyes slid open, sleep still clinging on to them. He smiled and wrapped an arm around my back, drawing me on top of him, his erection pressing against my stomach.

  “Well, good morning to you,” I said and winked.

  “It’s my day off. Let’s stay inside and fuck.”

  I leaned in and kissed his nose. “You make a compelling case.”

  In a swift move, I climbed out of his arms before he could convince me to stay. Trust me, it wouldn’t take much with the gray storm clouds rolling through outside. “How about I bring dinner tonight?” On my feet, I turned to find Ryker sizing me up, his lips widening with a smirk. Crawling back couldn’t be such a bad idea; maybe for a quickie.

  “You going to leave me in this condition?” He smirked and glanced down to the fabric tenting over his hardness.

  “Damn your sexiness.” I crawled back into bed, finding the heat of his body.

  He kneaded my breasts, his fingers pinching my pebbled nipples. A spark of fire traveled south, racing the apex between my thighs. I moaned, starving for more.

  Ryker’s lips found mine; his mouth opening, taking me. He shoved aside the bedsheets, and I moved over him, pressing down. I ran my hands down his chest, pinching his nipples.

  He offered me the filthiest grin and guided me onto him. “Show me how those tits bounce. Ride me hard, cowgirl.” His voice was a feather along my spine.

  His request had me trembling with desire as he angled his hips for a deeper penetration. I thought of nothing else in that moment but enjoying myself on Ryker.

  An hour later, I stumbled into the bathroom, my thighs aching. Hell, Ryker was a sex machine, ready to go again, but I’d only promised myself a quickie.

  “Robyn,” Ryker called out. “Did you get any more insight from your vision about yesterday’s case?”

  Standing in front of the mirror, I splashed cold water over my face. “Nope. Sorry.”

  The person reflected back at me was the world’s biggest liar with strawberry red hair draped over her shoulders. One side sat in a great heap on my head. Was it wrong of me to keep the Hood protected? To hide my past because that would mean losing Ryker and finding myself in prison? I patted down my wild strands. Black makeup smudged beneath my eyes and blushing love bites dotted my breasts from where Ryker had brought me to orgasm. And just above my heart sat the healed bullet scar. The one that had killed me years ago. I turned away and climbed into the shower, deciding to focus on work.

  By the time I’d finished, my clothes were waiting for me on the sink—folded. Ryker was a keeper.

  In the main room, he was in shorts, sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter drinking coffee.

  “Hey, so why did the chief call me out to the case last night?” I asked. “Dan wouldn’t say.”

  Ryker combed his fingers through his short hair. His bicep flexed and melted my knees. “It’s ‘cause that wasn’t our first similar case. Six dead bodies have washed up along the river in the past two weeks. We suspect it might be another serial killer. We can’t find identities for most in our database, but we tracked down two of the victims. Both from the slums.”

  I cringed at the word ‘slums’ referring to the Lower Corner, but who gave a shit compared to what he’d revealed? Two from the Traveler community had died? Did I know them?

  Last time I’d been at the community was months ago.

  “Any chance I can see the files of the other victims?” I asked.

  Ryker’s expression darkened because we both knew he broke the rules even telling me about the case.

  “It might reignite something in my vision.” A possibility.

  He took a long swig of his coffee, then wiped his mouth. “I’ll head into the station after lunch since the chief won’t be in.”

  “Thanks.” I pushed myself between Ryker’s legs, hands snaking around his neck. “I’ll see you tonight then?” Before he could respond, I kissed him, and his tongue twirled with mine, ready to go another round of lovemaking.

  Except my thoughts sailed to Dante, remembering the way he’d kiss me to the point where I’d drown in passion and float there for hours afterward.

  I pulled back from Ryker, guilt twisting my stomach.

  “You okay, babe?” he asked.

  “Sure. Gotta go or I’ll be late for training again.” I grabbed my bag and headed out before my expression could give me away. How the hell could I be thinking about Dante when I had the best boyfriend in the world?


  Chapter 4

  “Robyn, focus.” Tuck stood several feet across from me in his training room, wooden sword in hand. “Concentrate.”

  I tightened my grip on my blade. On the way to training, I’d visited Little J’s and found it shut for the day. No new clues yet, but I wasn’t giving up. I figured an hour of practice with Tuck might help loosen my mind and maybe inspire a vision.

  My forty-four-year-old teacher studied me, ready to battle, his bare feet planted squarely apart.

  “Guess I shouldn’t have skipped our last two sessions.” I laughed at myself but stopped short when Tuck’s stoic expression held tight. All right, time to get serious. I shook myself.

  “Let’s try again,” he said.

  With a deep inhale, I calmed my inner jitters.

  “Balance,” Tuck yelled, even though he was feet from me, wearing slacks and his training T-shirt with a Celtic motif at the center of his chest. The guy was an Arthurian fan and had been studying historical combat for over three decades.

  He engaged, parrying for my head.

  I recoiled, riposting his assault with an upward flick of my sword. The dull thud of wood resonated through the empty room. I kicked him in the shins. No shame in using dirty tricks. Fighting was about taking the opponent off-guard.

  Tuck’s blade cut through the air, coming down. I leaped sideways, gripping my hilt with two hands. In haste, I closed in from behind and whacked the wood across his calves.

  He fell onto all fours, and that had him chuckling. “Good move,” he said.

  I nodded, wiping the sweat from my brow with a sleeve.

  Back on his feet, Tuck stood in his ready posture, legs wide, knees bent. “Again.”

  We charged toward each other, and he countered my strikes. Quick to swing, he used his body weight to shove into me. Air gushing from my lungs, I stumbled. My thoughts and feelings compacted in my chest; I had to find who’d killed Peter and Dash. Could they be related?

  Tuck was on me. Blows coming in every direction. Left. Right. I stifled the attack in quick movements, our wooden blades clacking on each connection.

  “Fight, don’t run,” he screamed.

  Gasping for air, I ducked under his last swing and jumped into a roll to my side. I got to my feet and spun just as the flat part of his sword whacked me on the forehead.

  My vision blurred for those few seconds as I staggered, staring at two Tucks.

  “This isn’t a circus,” he said. “Confront your opponent face-on. Use your swings, your strength. Never back down. Sometimes just charging with confidence will scare off the enemy. If you want it bad enough, you’ll win.”

  “Sure. Once I can see straight again.”

  Tuck patted my arm. “Don’t lose focus. That’s enough for today.”

  “Thanks. I promise that next week I’ll bring my game face on.” I smiled, determined to show Tuck I’d listened. I’d grown up watching my dad practicing sword combat, and ever since he’d passed, I’d promised myself to continue the art.

  “You’ll have one hell of a bump on your brow. Sorry about that.” Tuck took the weapon from my hand.

  I offered him a smirk. “Wouldn’t be a decent session if I didn’t get hurt.” Damn, that was no exaggeration; last month, Ryker had sworn he’d arrest Tuck.

  I crossed the room and grabbed my towel. An hour of training should have cleared my thoughts, but the encounter with Dante at Little J’s lingered. It was too much of a coincidence that all signs pointed to the gymnasium. Rage burned through me that I’d lost the chance last night to spy on Jack’s conversation.

  Tuck approached a freestanding metal locker at the rear. He’d converted his garage into a makeshift studio and had a decent clientele.

  I picked up my bag. “Tuck, you’re buddies with Jack from Little J’s, right?”

  “Not sure I’d call it that.” He shut the locker. “I’ve only seen him at functions. Why?”

  “Have you heard anything about him associating with dangerous people? Maybe gangs?” Yeah, tact wasn’t my forte.

  “Jack’s always associated with seedy people.” Tuck shrugged. “The man grew up on the streets. He helps others who are struggling.” Tuck lifted the roller door. A gush of light poured inside. With a flick on the switch, the fluorescent lights shut down.

  “Yeah, but have your other clients ever spoken about him?” I followed Tuck outside onto his driveway. Flowerbeds faced the quiet suburban street lined with shrubs.

  Tuck locked the garage. “What are you really asking, Robyn?”

  There were no busybodies over the neighbor’s unruly hedge. “I’m worried he might be trouble.” Sure, I felt like a gossiper, but if Jack was clean, then no harm. Tuck had never spoken ill of anyone, and he’d helped me find an apartment when I’d first moved into the city. He’d even steered me into private investigation. His older son was in the business, and they’d showed me the ropes. So I trusted him.

  Tuck stared at me, his eyes narrowing.

  “Look, don’t worry about it,” I said.

  He rubbed his jaw, his gaze drifting upward. “A client said a strange thing the other day.”

  “What was that?” I inched closer.

  “Apparently, Jack got an offer on Little J’s. No idea if it’s true.”

  “But he loves the place.” Was the stranger in the Little J’s office yesterday the new buyer? Or had Jack done something stupid with the kids and now he planned to sell his possessions and leave the country?

  The cops had interrogated Jack after uncovering Peter’s blazer near the gym. A week later and Jack still kept the place closed, though I’d seen him go into his building on random days.

  Tuck’s voice sliced through my thoughts. “Well, not sure if that helps you.”’

  “Thanks, I’m sure it does.” My mind spun with confusion. I had to speak with Jack. The sign on his gym said he’d start classes again soon. And why had Dash been at Little J’s the same night the little boy, Peter, had gone missing?

  Ryker had said Dash wasn’t the first victim to wash up from the river. Perhaps the police reports would reveal more, but until then I had to do the right thing and visit Dante, as much as my churning gut protested. He might know more about Dash and Little J’s. I couldn’t keep using my emotions and dread as an excuse to avoid him.

  “Okay, thanks, Tuck. Have a great day.”

  He hugged me, reminding me of my dad. He was strong and he never beat around the bush. Was that why I connected with him? We’d bumped into each other at the local soup kitchen when I’d first moved into the city. He worked there, and I’d needed a meal.

  “Take care out there.” He walked away.

  I strolled down the driveway and to my motorbike parked near a blossoming tree. Pink petals covered my seat. Geared up with my helmet, I jumped on and kick-started the engine. The bike purred. If I was visiting Dante, then I ought to admit I made the Hood possible suspects in Dash’s case. Crap, my life was going to hell in a hand basket once Dante found out.

  Trees blurred in my peripheral vision as I careened my bike round a corner. Shadows crowded the mountain. The occasional gap in the canopy threw the midday sunlight onto my back. Returning to the forest had my insides hardening to cement.

  This wasn’t about me, but stopping a lunatic on a killing spree.

  The wind tugged my leather jacket, and cold seeped through my jeans. An ache coiled inside me, while every molecule in my body screamed to hightail it home. I’d steered clear of the forest this long, yet I remembered everything about my journey to the campsite. The sharpness of the snake-like bend coming up. Tiny bluebells growing amid the evergreens. The spot to my right where a massive oak had fallen over, taking three trees with it. Now, the gaping hole offered a picturesque view of the city below.

  Dried leaves bathed the asphalt in red and burnt orange.

  I gripped the handlebars of the bike, the leather gloves pulled tautly across my knuckles. Hood trackers lay everywhere in the woods. Even now, they’d
be watching me from the treetops. They owned the art of camouflaging. I eased off the throttle and turned onto a dirt path. The terrain grew bumpy, and pines crowded me; I could reach out and touch the branches. Sure, the Hood had several hiding spots, but their main camp stood a couple of hours’ drive from the city.

  Farther ahead in a clearing stood over a dozen parked motorbikes, a tarp tied to multiple trees overhead for protection.

  I parked and killed the engine. Once I got off and removed my helmet and gloves, I spotted a blazing red fuel tank at the end of the row with matching fenders. Only one person insisted on standing out while everyone else’s bikes remained black.

  I didn’t remember moving, yet I stood in front of my brother’s bike, tires chained to a nearby tree. Dante must have decided to keep it in memoriam. Richard had always been a free spirit, and I’d adored that about him, but it had also landed him in endless trouble, like the time he’d singlehandedly took on two gang members from the Scarlets to protect a girl who’d owed them drug money. Richard had gained three broken ribs for his efforts and that had been considered lucky. Dante hadn’t gone after the Scarlets because he’d had to maintain the pact of keeping out of their business and so they’d overlooked that incident.

  With a flick, I plucked free a leaf wedged into the rim of the headlight and trailed the smooth red surface of the fuel tank. My fingers sailed down to the leather seat, which was stiff and brittle beneath my touch. I’d grieved too many times for Richard, and telling myself he was with our parents didn’t ease my pain. I missed him every day—his smiles, his hugs, the way he called me “sis.” My stomach knotted, and the hollowness took hold, threatening to drown me. I hugged myself, remembering the tears. But seeing Richard’s bike had me re-watching his casket lowering into his final resting place. Rawness chewed on my insides.

  I shouldn’t have come here. I turned away, keeping my arms locked round my stomach, convinced everything I’d eaten over the past day would burst out. Peter came to mind, his parents never getting the chance to say farewell to their little boy. They had every right to find his body, and I promised them I’d help. Wiping my eyes, I entered the forest, putting distance between me and the bikes.