• • •
I managed to make it to the Pizza Bar only a few minutes late. Like always, I felt a little rush when Kai saw me and smiled.
His smile widened as I slid into the booth across from him.
“Is that a piece of straw in your hair?”
“Probably.” Stupid donkey. I reached up and began patting my head as I inwardly vowed to retaliate. After a few seconds, Kai leaned across the table and gently pulled the stalk free.
He held it up, then locked his eyes on me. “You haven’t been rolling in the hay with someone else, have you?”
“Uh . . . nope.” I met his gaze, ignoring the heat that threatened to flush into my cheeks.
The waitress arrived, saving me from having to come up with anything better. We ordered a couple of beers and a half-veggie, half-pepperoni pizza.
“How did everything go with your call?” The restaurant was packed and noisy enough that I knew we wouldn’t be overheard talking about a murder scene.
“Busy. We’re shorthanded.” He waved the subject away. “What about you? Did you get anywhere with the other girl in the rehab program?”
“Caitlyn. Surprisingly, she opened up to me.” At least I thought she had. “She told me where Brooke used to hang out, so I guess I’ll look into that. And Brooke has a boyfriend—Stefan someone. He also goes by the name Butter, if you can believe that.”
“I’ve heard some stupid street names.”
“Well, according to Caitlyn, Stefan is a total wangster. Whatever that means.”
“It means he’s a wannabe gangster. Someone who looks the part but isn’t a member of any gang,” Kai said. “How long has Brooke been on probation?”
“About a year.”
He nodded. “Brooke’s old hangouts are worth checking on, but they might not lead anywhere. Hot spots tend to move depending on how many times the cops have shown up there. Plus, if you start nosing around, you might spook someone who knows where she is.”
I hadn’t considered that. “Caitlyn also said Brooke didn’t get along well with her parents. No big surprise there. Other than that, I didn’t get very far.” I explained briefly about my run-in with Brooke’s probation officer. “The woman didn’t even acknowledge she knew who Brooke was.”
“Brooke’s a minor. Legally, her probation officer can’t tell you anything.”
“I know, but she acted like she couldn’t have cared less about Brooke. And she was creepy.”
He arched an eyebrow at that.
“Trust me. Clara Johnston is like the ice cream man who keeps dead bodies in his truck next to the Dreamsicles.”
“You’ve been watching too many horror films.”
“It’s almost Halloween, what else is on?”
Our waitress brought the drinks, and I took a sip of cold Abita beer. “I’m not sure where to go next,” I said.
“The only thing you can do is hope her parents call the police and report her missing.”
I blew out a frustrated breath, shook my head, then angled it as I studied him.
“Are you saying that because you really think there’s nothing I can do, or because you still don’t think Brooke was kidnapped?”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“No, you’re trying to discourage me.”
“Right. Because that would work.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Grace, you’re one of the most hardheaded people I’ve ever met. It would take a tsunami to discourage you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a little tenacious.”
“A little?”
“Okay, a lot. Who cares? If being stubborn means I stick to what I know is right, then so be it. And I know Brooke was kidnapped. There’s no other reason Boris would tell me she was taken.”
“How can he tell the difference between going willingly and being taken by force?”
“Boris may not have a human understanding of some things, but he’s a predator, Kai. Whatever happened to Brooke, it wasn’t friendly.”
The pizza arrived, but I’d suddenly lost my appetite. I stared at my plate, frustrated that I hadn’t found any evidence to bolster my argument, and hurt that I needed it.
“Grace,” Kai said softly when the waitress left.
I met his gaze, knowing my face reflected the chill I suddenly felt toward him.
He leaned forward, keeping his eyes on mine. “You shouldn’t do that if you want my help.”
“What?” I asked as he scooped a slice of pizza onto my plate then served himself.
“I want to learn more about your ability, Grace. I can’t do that if you freeze me out every time I start asking questions.”
I blinked at him. “Wait, you mean all the questions about Boris are because you want to understand?”
“That’s how this works. You asked for my help. I can’t do that if I don’t understand all the facts.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you think I’m asking?”
“I didn’t think you believed me.”
“I told you last night I believed you.”
“I know, it’s just—” I stopped, not knowing how to explain without feeling like more of an idiot.
Flustered, I did the only thing I could think of—I took a big bite of pizza. Though I was going to need more than a moment to work through my thoughts.
I wasn’t about to admit that a disastrous college romance had left me hesitant to open up to others—that was pathetic. Even though I’d come to learn that people could accept my ability, I still assumed the other shoe was always poised to drop.
I washed down the pizza with a swig of beer and sighed. “I can confess my deepest fears to a cockatoo but can’t figure out how to talk to another person. How crazy is that?”
“A little.” His tone was teasing. “I have another question.”
“Of course you do.”
“Do you have a problem talking to everyone or just me?”
I thought about it. “I don’t socialize well. But besides that, you fall into a special category.”
He raised his brows with a grin. “Which is . . . ?”
“Outside my family, I can count on one hand the number of people who know about my ability.”
“Even your friend, Tiger Bait?”
“Hugh?” I frowned. “He doesn’t know.”
“Really?” Kai studied my face, though I wasn’t sure what he was looking for.
“Yes, really. He’d think I was nuts—like you did.”
“So I am special. Good.” The playful gleam in his eyes heated, as if lit by an inner fire.
Suddenly, it seemed to have grown hot in the small restaurant. “Anyway, you’re the only person who’s interrogated me.”
“Once.”
“More than once. And you’re doing it again.”
“You’re telling me no one ever asks you about your ability? What about your clients?”
“They don’t know the truth. As long as I get results, people don’t care about the how.”
“And your family? Your parents never questioned you? Even when you were little?”
“Not the way you do.”
He leaned back and studied me. “I like the idea of being special to you, Grace. But not if it means you don’t like talking to me.”
“I don’t like talking to anyone—” Kai’s phone rang, cutting me off, which was good because I had no idea what I was going to say.
“I’ve got to head back in,” Kai said and signaled the waitress.
She dropped off the check, then brought us a box for the two remaining pieces of pizza. Kai laid a few bills on the table and asked if I wanted to take home the leftovers.
I shook my head. “Share them with Jake. He always says he doesn’t eat when he’s working.”
“You’re going to meet me at the range tomorrow?” he asked as he walked me out.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
He smirked. “You miss a
lot, which is why you need to be on time.”
“I’m getting better.”
We reached Bluebell, and I was starting to feel awkward about how we’d ended the conversation earlier.
I hesitated before opening the car door then turned to Kai and blurted, “I want to do it.”
His brows shot up.
“Talk to you!” I clarified, embarrassment making my voice an octave higher. “I want to talk to you.”
“Okay.” Kai moved toward me, a slight smile curving his lips.
“I mean—not now.” I swallowed hard and said more calmly, “That’s what makes you special—that I want to.”
Kai placed his hands lightly on my hips and leaned closer. The heat of his body seemed to wash over me.
“One day, we’re going to have a real date—and I’ll get to kiss you good night.”
“We have to have a real date?”
His smile widened. His gaze heated as his eyes locked on my mouth.
My phone wailed the opening notes of “Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osbourne. I nearly jumped out of my skin and Kai eased back.
Damn Emma and her obnoxious ring tones. I fumbled with my phone, finally hitting the button to silence it.
“Sorry—my sister.” A few moments later the phone chimed to announce I had a text message. I glanced at the screen.
Meet me at the condo. Need your assistance.
“I’ve got to run.”
He flashed that killer smile. “See you tomorrow. Maybe we’ll call it a date,” he said with a wink before turning to walk away.
When I got my heart rate under control, I climbed into Bluebell and headed home. Emma was going to flip when I told her she’d interrupted what might have been our first kiss.
• • •
The sight of my sister stopped me in my tracks.
Emma wore a black and garnet bustier with a ragged, asymmetrical skirt. Her hair was covered by a wild, black wig. Gold bones fanned out to form a crown on her head. More bones dangled from a scarf at her waist.
“What the hell are you supposed to be?”
“A voodoo queen.” She gestured in a regal way, and I spotted a voodoo doll dangling from one wrist. Her other hand, which was cupped to her chest, held something black and fluffy. I stepped forward for a better look.
“What is—is that a kitten?”
“Some idiot thought it would make a great costume accessory. Of course, the poor thing flipped out as soon as they carried it into the venue. I found it cowering under a table.” She held out the tiny ball of black fur. “I figured you’d know how to deal with it.”
I stared at my sister, stunned.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing, it’s just . . . I never expected you to bring an animal into your sanctum sanctorum.”
“What was I supposed to do? Toss it in the trash?”
Sadly, that was exactly what some people would’ve done.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
She lifted a shoulder, her bone earrings swinging with the movement. “We’re starting your house hunt next week. I can put up with that little thing for a little while.”
“I’m not sure you’ll feel that way when it decides to sharpen its claws on your designer couch.”
She dismissed my comment with a wave. “You’ll just train it.”
“Emma, it’s a cat.”
Of course, we’d grown up with pets. Dogs, cats, squirrels, birds, snakes, lizards, you name it—if it was stray or injured I brought it home.
My mom was softhearted when it came to animals and welcomed each creature. My father, a master mechanic and certified tough guy, didn’t. At least not out loud. He would grumble and complain as he built little houses and cages for every new arrival. Emma reminded me so much of him sometimes, I couldn’t help but smile.
“Anyway,” she said airily, “if I can deal with Moss, I can deal with that little—” Her eyes widened. “He won’t hurt it, will he?”
“He’ll be fine. Moss!” I called out for my dog. He ignored me.
I could feel his mild interest, but he was comfortably stretched out on the couch and wasn’t inclined to move.
“Come here, Moss.”
Nothing.
I have a kitty cat.
Kitty?
I heard the jingle of his tags, and a moment later Moss trotted into the room. His eyes instantly fixed onto the black fuzz ball in my hand.
Kitty!
I held out the kitten and Moss busily began his examination, sniffing every inch of the cat with tail-wagging exuberance.
Moss’s kitty.
“Yes, this is your kitty. Be gentle.”
I placed the kitten on the floor. It opened its eyes slowly, fatigue and confusion making it wobble as it sat up.
“It’s okay, little one.” I reassured it with thoughts as well as words.
You’re safe.
The kitten mewed. Moss took this as his cue. Unable to pick it up by the scruff of its tiny neck, Moss gently clamped his jaws over the kitten’s entire head.
“Um—Grace?”
“It’s okay. Moss likes cats.”
“Because they taste just like chicken?”
I laughed. “They remind him of his old buddy, Charm.”
“That little thing reminds him of a jaguar?”
“Domestic cats and jaguars don’t smell the same, but they’re close enough.”
Moss lifted his kitten and took it back to his spot on the couch. He plopped the kitty down between his forepaws and began giving it a bath. I could hear the purring from where we stood.
I went to the pantry and rummaged through my stockpile of emergency animal supplies. I had a few cans of kitten food and even a small bag of cat litter, but no litter pan.
“Emma, do we have any of those disposable roasting pans?”
My sister opened the cabinet and pulled out an aluminum dish. “Will this work?”
“It will have to.”
As I set up a temporary kitty station in my bathroom, I told Emma about meeting Kai for dinner and that his questions seemed to be geared toward helping me rather than doubting my ability.
I held up my hand. “I know—don’t say it.”
“You do tend to assume the worst in people. I’m just glad Kai continues to prove you wrong.”
“So far. The jury is still out.”
She shot me an arch look. “Is it?”
“I haven’t known him that long. People aren’t always who they seem to be.”
“I won’t argue that. But even so, you never know until you take him for a test drive or two.” She bit her bottom lip and grinned. “Or ten.”
I pressed my lips together to stifle a giggle.
My sister’s eyes narrowed. “Are you blushing?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Lie.”
“Well, something might have happened if my sister hadn’t called and interrupted.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “Were you going home with him?”
“What? No! Lord, Em, it wasn’t like that. I thought he was going to kiss me.”
Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You haven’t kissed him yet? Grace, it’s been over two months.”
“No it hasn’t. And half the time one of us was either working or out of town.” I used the small desk chair for balance as I toed off my dusty tennis shoes.
“Okay, fine, one month. That is glacial, even for you. Kai is a fox. He’s hot for you. What’s your problem?”
“You assume I have a problem?”
“Um, yeah.”
“The problem is time. Look at me, Emma.” I turned in a circle so she could admire the grime and bits of hay that were no doubt clinging to my clothes. “And this is mild. I can’t leave work and go out on a real date. I smell like a barnyard.”
“You could make time.”
“I’ve been trying to. But I had to go up to Savannah to h
elp Wes with that cat burglar thing. Kai was gone for two weeks for his cousin’s wedding.”
“Which you could have gone to.”
“In Hawaii?” I gave her an incredulous look.
She shrugged, conceding the point.
“Including tonight, Kai and I have only been out four times. If you don’t count meeting at the firing range—which I don’t.”
“You guys need to get it together and by together, I mean—”
I grabbed her hands before she could elaborate with a gesture. “I get it. Thanks.”
“Are you sure time is the only factor?” she asked as I went into the bathroom to turn on the shower. “You’re not coming up with excuses to ditch him because of trust issues?”
“I don’t have trust issues,” I said, walking back into the bedroom. “People are generally not trustworthy. That’s not an issue . . . it’s a fact.”
She stared at me for a long moment then said, “Wow. Just . . . wow.”
I waved her off and decided to change the subject. Even with all she’d been through, Emma would forever believe in the power of love. I had my doubts.
“Do you have to go back to the event?”
“Yep. And it will be a late one. Can you train with me in the morning? Sensei will be here at seven.”
My sister had converted her garage into a mini-dojo, complete with training equipment and a dressing area for when she had guests. Sometimes, I joined her in her private classes.
“How can you stay up half the night and then go to the dojo so early?”
“This body”—she swept her hand in an arc from head to waist—“is a finely tuned machine.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Fueled by martinis and malarkey.”
“And vitamins and green tea. So, are you in?”
I used to make excuses to get out of class, but the little aikido I’d learned had helped save my life recently, so I meant it when I said, “I wish I could, but I’ve got a busy day. I’ll have to get the kitten squared away and I want to find Brooke’s boyfriend—which could take a while.” I pulled off my dirty shirt and tossed it in the hamper. “Have you heard of something called Pretty Little Liars?”
“The books or the TV show?”
“The show, I guess. Caitlyn said Brooke’s boyfriend looked like the bad boy. Someone named Caleb.”
“Tyler Blackburn.” Emma turned to my small desk and opened my laptop. A few keystrokes later, the screen showed a teenager with shoulder-length dark hair and a smile too perfect to fit a bad boy. He was cute, though. Wangster or not, if Stefan looked like the actor, I could see why Brooke would be interested.
A Tiger's Tale (A Call of the Wilde Mystery) Page 6