Midnight Hour

by C. C. Hunter

  She smiled, not a complete smile, but enough to crinkle the corners of her eyes. “See why I love them?”

  “Yeah, I see.”

  She blinked and the smile faded. “I don’t want you hiding things from me.”

  He nodded. “Then I guess I need to tell you that I turned into a pink polka dotted elephant tonight and was shot.” He explained. She looked worried, but then she laughed, just as he’d hoped. And it was a beautiful sound.

  She looked up, the humor fading from her eyes. “About your parents?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It hurts you.” She put a hand over his heart. “I can feel it.”

  Not ready to talk, he said, “It hurts a lot less when I’m with you.”

  She nodded. “I know, I have this lump of worry over Tabitha. It throbs like a toothache when I think about it, but when I’m with you, it doesn’t hurt as much.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder again. “Did they ever say they were sorry?”

  “What?”

  “You parents?”

  Emotionally, he flinched. “Not really.”

  She looked up, her eyes bright with tears.

  “Don’t…” He brushed a finger over her cheek. “Let’s not talk about—”

  “No.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “See, you’re doing it again. Not talking to me. At least let me cry for you. Because I know you want to.”

  “Tears won’t fix this. Not mine or yours.”

  She swatted at her cheeks. But the tears kept coming. “I cannot imagine how someone could … My mom and dad have done stupid stuff that’s hurt me. Mom sometimes can’t hide the fact that she’s disappointed in me, and that really hurts me. She won’t even talk to me right now, but … I know they love me. And to think your parents would…” A few tears slipped down her cheek. “And not even apologize … How can they live with themselves?”

  He didn’t want to spend this time with her talking about his parents, but the words spilled out. “I think my dad regrets it. He acts like he cares.” He drew in a gulp of air. “I wish he didn’t.”

  Miranda inched closer.

  “My mom was the one who put him up to abandoning me.” He exhaled. “I don’t even think she has a heart.”

  “I hate her,” Miranda said. “Hating people is wrong, but I hate her.” She held up her pinky. “I want to put a hex on her ass!”

  “Turn her into a kangaroo?” He chuckled.

  “How about covering her face in pimples?” she said.

  He laughed. Miranda didn’t.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Why isn’t your mom talking to you?”

  Miranda told him about their argument.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “She doesn’t like me.”

  “She doesn’t dislike you. She just gets like this when she and my dad are arguing. And I apologize if she calls you Peter for the rest of your life. Because I’ve corrected her a dozen times and she still does it.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t mind being Peter.”

  They just sat there holding on. She glanced up, a little nervous. “If I tell you something will you promise not to tell anyone?”

  “Of course.”

  She bit down on her lip. “The armadillo showed up again the night before last.”

  His breath caught. “The one who was at the drug house?”

  She nodded.

  “Are you sure it wasn’t just a regular armadillo? They live in the woods and—”

  “Definitely not a regular one. It was under my bed. It talked to me.”

  “What did Burnett—”

  “I didn’t tell him. That’s why you can’t say anything.”

  Perry’s mind raced. “Wait. If it’s not a real armadillo, how could it be here without Burnett picking it up on the radar?”

  “I don’t know, but remember you promised not to say anything.”

  He frowned. “What if—”

  “He said he wanted to help me find Tabitha. Then Della came in and he disappeared. And I’ve called him, looked for him, but he hasn’t come back.”

  “He disappeared like a shifter?”

  “I didn’t see any bubbles.”

  Perry tried to wrap his head around it, and the more he thought the less he liked. “How do you know it wasn’t lying?”

  “Because it was the armadillo who made me leave the house before it blew up, and it woke me up when all the smoke was blowing at us. So he’s practically saved my life twice. It doesn’t make sense that he would try to kill me now.”

  “I see your logic, but—”

  “No!” She put a finger to his lips. “You said you wouldn’t tell.” The glint of stubbornness highlighted the gold flecks in her hazel eyes.

  He didn’t like this. “But you’ll tell me if he shows up again? Promise?”

  She nodded. Then she leaned her head against him and just sat there. He rubbed his cheek against her hair.

  “It doesn’t feel cold in here, does it?” she asked.

  He pulled the sofa throw beside him and handed it to her. “Here.”

  She lifted up and looked around the room. “I’m not really cold. I’m just kind of worried about the ghost.”

  “Bell? She came back?” he asked.

  Miranda told him about the ghost showing up at Holiday’s. “Holiday says she’s here because of the baby, but she says it’s weird that she’s only shown up when I was around.” Miranda let go of a deep breath.

  “Has Bell said anything? There’s a chance she might know where Jax is.”

  “No. Holiday tried to talk to her, but she just left.”

  “That has to be scary.”

  She nodded and glanced to the front window. “Do you think a ghost can possess trees?”

  “What?” he asked.

  She told him about her newfound phobia of trees.

  “Did you tell Holiday?” he asked.

  “No, it didn’t occur to me that it might be the ghost then. And it makes me sound crazy.”

  “You’re not crazy. You’re smart and beautiful.” And she was his now. The thought shot a wave of joy all over him.

  “Don’t say that, either.” Her tone sounded defeated, not very Miranda-like.

  “That you’re beautiful?”

  She sighed. “Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder. But I’m not smart. I bombed the SAT test—even with someone reading me the test. I’ve got one week to retake it. If I don’t make a good score, I won’t…” Her voice shook. “I won’t be going to college with Della and Kylie.”

  There was a time Perry would have been happy about her not going—wanting her all to himself. It had been thinking about her leaving for college and how he wouldn’t fit into her world that had initiated him breaking up with her.

  Now he knew how much Miranda wanted this. No way would he stand in the way of her dreams. Nothing should.

  “Then why aren’t you studying?” he asked. “I’ll help you.”

  She looked up at him. “Not at this hour. Plus I’ve studied about six hours today. My brain’s mush. Not to say I’ve given up. I almost had, but Della and Kylie knocked some sense into me. I’m going to give it my all. If I don’t make it, it’s not because I didn’t try.”

  “You’ll make it,” he said. “I know you will.”

  She smiled. “If I don’t, and I can learn to fight, maybe I’ll work for the FRU.”

  “Really?” He hoped his expression didn’t give him away. But he couldn’t see her doing that. Miranda was just … soft. Softhearted. Soft spirited. He couldn’t see her doing that job.

  “Do you know how much I’ve missed this?” she asked. “Us, talking. It’s as if everything bad in the world gets pushed back when I’m with you.”

  “I know. And I missed this.” He leaned in and kissed her. It went from sweet to sweeter, from hot to hotter. They ended up stretched out, their legs tangled up. They had to work to find a way the cast didn’t come between them.

  He moved his hand under the bac
k of her shirt, followed the soft curve of her waist, feeling bare skin, feeling Miranda.

  His body reacted to her closeness. Their hips met. Even with their clothes on, it sent vibrations of pleasure to all the right places. Or it did, until she jerked her leg from between his.

  “I’m sorry,” he said without opening his eyes, knowing she’d felt his growing problem. “It just happens.” The fact that it startled her, startled him. In the past, she even joked about it. She’d been happy that she had that effect on him. Maybe things between them weren’t really back to normal.

  He forced his eyes open. Worried he’d see anger in those beautiful eyes. She didn’t look mad … She looked … tattooed. He almost said something, but didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious.

  “I want you to stay here.” She nipped at her bottom lip. She always did that when something was hard to say. “But I don’t … I don’t want our first time to be wrapped up with my worry over Tabitha, our parents, and the stupid SAT scores.” She put her palm on his chest. “Am I asking too much?”

  “No,” he said. “We’ve gone a lot further than this before. You know I wouldn’t push you. Ever.”

  “I know. I just … I want it, too. I’ve regretted that we didn’t do it earlier. I just don’t think now’s right. Remember the night we went skinny-dipping?”

  He smiled. “Every time I close my eyes.”

  “Well, that’s how it needs to be. No worries, no problems. Just us. Together.”

  He brushed her hair from her cheek. “That sounds really good.” He still worried. “You know that’s not all I want. This…” He motioned to the tent in his jeans. “Yes it means I want things, but I want more than that. And I’d never—”

  She put a finger over his lips. “I trust you with my life. That’s why I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Emotion filled his chest and he felt his eyes grow moist. Not once during all that happened with his parents had he wanted to cry. But hearing her say she loved him made him weepy.

  Not wanting her to see his weakness, he pulled her against him. Every ounce of her, against him, was the sweetest weight he’d ever felt. And he’d do anything and everything to be the person she deserved.

  She looked up at him. “I wish I had some ice cream to go with the birthday cake.”

  “Huh?” he asked.

  “Every time I’m around you lately, I smell birthday cake.”

  “I smell like birthday cake?”

  “No, the air smells like it. It’s a happy smell. But it makes me want ice cream.”

  “Do you have some in the fridge? I’ll get it for you.”

  “We’re out.”

  “Zap us some,” he said.

  “No, I’m zapped out.”

  “You want me to go to the store?”

  “No.” She curled up against him again. “I like this better than ice cream.”

  A while later, looking exhausted, she fell asleep. Her tattoos faded, but then she’d snuggle a little closer and they’d come back. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was them being close that brought them on. He hoped that was a good thing.

  He quickly realized this wasn’t the most comfortable position for his arm. Yet afraid if he moved he’d wake her, he didn’t move. He didn’t sleep, either. He didn’t want to miss a second of this.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “Who’s Peter?”

  Della’s voice stirred Miranda from a dead sleep. She pushed up, blinking. Why was she on the sofa?

  Everything came back. Everything made sense. Except Della’s question.

  “Huh?” she asked.

  “There’s a note from a Peter?”

  Miranda focused on the vampire. Sun poured through the window, telling Miranda she’d slept late. Then she noted the paper Della held out. Peter?

  “You’re not supposed to read other people’s notes.” Sitting up, she snatched it.

  “It doesn’t have your name on it.”

  Miranda read the note.

  I love you more than ice cream. More than flying. And you know how much I love that.

  Peter.

  Miranda smiled and put the note against her chest.

  The vampire made a funny face. “I feel a sappy moment coming on and we have no time for sap. Get your ass up and ready. I gotta teach you to punch somebody’s lights out. Come on. Chop. Chop.”

  “Can I pee first?” Miranda popped up.

  “Full stream,” Della snapped. “Because after I teach you to kick ass, we’re gonna hit the books.”

  “Where’s Kylie?”

  “Sleeping in. She stayed out all night howling at the moon and getting fleas.”

  Ten minutes and a granola bar later, they were out by the lake. The morning sun sparkled off the water. A few cotton-like clouds hung above. The day seemed too beautiful to fight.

  Her thoughts shot to Tabitha, and Miranda accepted that bad crap happened on beautiful days. She needed to learn to fight.

  A breeze brushed across her skin and rustled the leaves on the trees. Until then, she’d forgotten about her weird obsession with trees. She looked at them and, oddly, she didn’t feel fear, just her usual appreciation for nature. Maybe she’d gotten over whatever it was.

  “Hey, we didn’t come out to enjoy the view,” Della said. “Do you remember how I told you to stand?”

  “Yeah,” Miranda copied Della’s fighting stance, with her knees bent slightly for better balance, and her fists held up to protect her face. It felt unnatural, but Miranda ignored that feeling. She wanted this.

  “Here’s another lesson. An attacker will try to hold your hands to restrain you. That’s okay. Your legs are the strongest part of your body. And if he’s holding your hands, he’s not protecting his boys. Wham him in the balls with your knee, or use the ball of your foot. If his boys aren’t accessible, kick him in the knee to knock him off balance. And if you’ve got on high heels, use them. A spiky heel is as good as a knife.”

  For the next thirty minutes, Della kept coming at her, and Miranda showed her what she could do. Della helped her perfect her punches and her kicks, taught her a variety of maneuvers to break someone’s arm or leg, and ways to deflect a blow. After a while, Miranda actually felt confident.

  “If someone grabs you from behind, use your elbow to twist toward them and break their hold, then attack. You have a mean left hook, use it. If you can’t break their hold, look down and start stomping their foot. Or punch the fine bones in their hand. And don’t be afraid to fight dirty. Use your teeth if you have to.”

  “That sounds painful.” Miranda caught her breath.

  “Exactly.”

  They danced around in circles for another thirty minutes—Miranda attempting to block Della’s punches and using different techniques to fight back.

  Then Miranda remembered. “Perry knew you two were playing cupid last night.”

  “I hope so, or that’d mean he’s dumber than dirt.” Della chuckled.

  Miranda lifted her arm to block Della’s punch. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Della stopped throwing punches.

  The vamp pulled two waters out of her backpack. “What’s up with the flowers from Shawn?” She handed Miranda a bottle.

  Holding the cold bottle to her forehead, she told Della the breakup story. Then she told her how good it had been to spend the night with Perry.

  “How good?” Della lifted a brow, leaving no doubt what she was asking.

  “We didn’t have sex,” Miranda told her.

  “Still not sure?” Della asked.

  “No. I’m sure. I just want the first time to be right. I don’t want to be worried about my sister, or studying.” Or my parents, or ghosts. Or most of all, her sister.

  “Makes sense,” the vamp said.

  Miranda pulled out her phone. Why wasn’t Tabitha texting her back? “I’m so worried about Tabitha.” She slumped down on the grass and eyed her phone.

  Della plopped down beside her.
“If it was my sister, I’d be worried sick, too. But Burnett’s got everyone on the case.”

  Miranda nodded and checked for any messages. Not one.

  Frustrated, she dropped back on the grass, and stared up at the clouds moving slowly across the sky.

  Della fell back as well. “Holiday got our caps and gowns in. They’re dorky looking.”

  “They’re supposed to be dorky looking.” Thoughts about graduation lead Miranda to thoughts about after graduation. She sat up. “We should go study.”

  “Yup.” Della bounced to her feet.

  They hadn’t gotten to the path in the woods, when Miranda’s cell dinged with a text.

  She yanked it from her pocket. She didn’t recognize the number. She read the text.

  “It’s her,” Miranda yelped, and got happy tears in her eyes. “It’s Tabitha. She’s okay.”

  * * *

  Miranda sent a text back, asking her sister where she was, but Tabitha hadn’t answered.

  Della had insisted they go tell Burnett—immediately. Not that Miranda minded, but she’d have liked a few minutes to be happy before dealing with Burnett’s interrogation.

  He always interrogated.

  Sure, Miranda had a few questions of her own. Tabitha’s message was odd.

  I can hear you worrying. Stop it. I’m fine. Tabitha.

  Burnett frowned, sitting on the edge of his wife’s desk. “What does she mean?”

  “I guess that I sent her like ten messages.”

  “She didn’t use her phone to text you. And she said ‘hear you.’” Burnett looked at Holiday, as if communicating nonverbally.

  Miranda wondered about that. “What’s important is that she’s fine.”

  Burnett nodded. “I’m sending the number to my IT department to see if we can get a trace on the phone. That might tell us where she is.” He frowned. “They may need your phone.”

  She frowned not liking the thought of surrendering her cell, but agreed if they needed it.

  “Until then if you hear anything, let me know that instant.”

  She nodded.

  Burnett stood and kissed his wife. “I’ll let you know what time I’ll be back.”

  “You need some help?” Della asked.

  “No, I’m assisting the Houston FRU with their search on the title of that house that was signed over.”