They passed by the doorway to a corner bookstore. An older woman stood behind the counter near the window, her curious gaze turned to the street. If the shooter had come this way, she would have seen him. Gideon nodded through the glass to the nosy woman. “Why don’t you ask that sales clerk if she saw anything?”
Hope, who’d been thoughtfully quiet since they’d left the building, said, “You don’t want to question her yourself?”
“I need to make a phone call. Family stuff,” he added, so this partner he didn’t want would know he wasn’t trying to leave her out of the loop. She hesitated, but finally went into the bookstore and left him standing on the sidewalk alone. He snagged his cell and hit the speed dial.
Dante answered on the second ring.
“How’s everything?” Gideon asked—loudly, since there was a lot of static to talk over. Damn cell phones.
“Royally screwed,” his brother answered.
“I can sympathize, trust me. I won’t keep you, but I have to know. About three months ago you sent me a piece of turquoise.”
“I remember.”
“The blasted thing was gifted, wasn’t it?” Unconsciously, he fingered the cord that hung around his neck. It was hidden by his dress shirt and tie, at the moment, but he was always aware of the power of the talisman. The silver charm that hung there carried the gift of protection, a blessing from his brother. A newly gifted charm arrived every nine days by overnight carrier. Big brother insisted, since Gideon’s job came with potential dangers. The turquoise that was sitting on his bedroom dresser had obviously carried another kind of power.
Dante laughed. “I’m surprised it took you this long to figure out.”
“What was the gift, exactly?”
“A glimpse of the future.”
“Near future or distant?”
“It wasn’t specific.”
Gideon leaned against the bookstore’s brick wall and cursed succinctly. Dante had made the gift nonspecific time-wise, but Emma was an entity waiting to come into this world, and she said she was coming soon.
Not necessarily. He was in control here. He made his own decisions. If he didn’t want a family, then he wouldn’t have one. In spite of everything he’d been taught in his life, he could not believe that he had no choice in such an important matter.
“What did you see?” Dante asked.
“None of your damn business.”
Dante laughed again, then ended the conversation abruptly, as if someone had interrupted him.
Hope opened the bookstore door and stuck her head out. “Raintree, I think you’re gonna want to hear this.”
Tabby paced her recently rented apartment, the adrenaline still pumping amidst the faded and dusty furnishings. She’d had the woman in her sights, and it would have been an easy enough shot from the deserted apartment on the other side of the alleyway from Echo Raintree’s place. Aim. Pull trigger. Watch the target fall. Run. It was a good, simple plan. Not the way she preferred to work, but still, a good enough plan to throw Raintree for a loop.
And then Gideon had knocked the target to the floor, and the bullet had been wasted. Tabby didn’t know what all of Gideon’s talents were, but apparently he had some kind of psychic power as well as the ability to see ghosts. He’d knocked his partner to the ground a split second before she’d pulled the trigger.
Tabby hated hotel rooms. There was no privacy in such places, and she needed to know that no one else had access to her things. No matter where she went, she was able to find a cheap apartment to rent, like this one. She paid a month in advance and was always long gone before the month was done. She avoided her neighbors and never ever brought her work home with her.
On the small kitchen table of this shabby, furnished apartment, the newly taken finger and hank of bloody hair had been treated and were drying. She sat before them and drank in the sensations they recalled so vividly. She wished for more, wished to be able to absorb the life power of her victims, but in a way she was satisfied that these things were now hers. There was such a wonderful dark mojo in her keepsakes; they soothed her even when everything else was going wrong. And at the moment it seemed that everything truly was going wrong.
Echo was still nowhere to be found, and that was a problem. Cael’s orders had been specific. Echo was to die first. Tabby knew that if she called her cousin and told him what had happened, he would order her home, and then he would send someone else to finish the job she’d failed to accomplish. Her life wouldn’t be worth spit if that happened. She had to finish the task she’d been given, and she had to finish it herself. Echo first, Gideon later in the week, and preferably at a time and place where she could get close enough to appreciate the experience.
Mulling over the possibilities, she reached out and barely touched a strand of spiked, pink and bloodied hair. She’d hit a couple of road bumps, but soon the Raintrees she’d been assigned to kill would be dead, and that was all that mattered. As for the woman cop, Tabby now wanted her dead on principle alone. She hated to miss.
The older lady at the bookstore had seen a woman with long blond hair walking very briskly—just short of running—away from the apartment building at exactly the right time. The long blond hair and the timing were enough to at least loosely tie the shooting to Sherry Bishop’s murder. But what lay behind the crimes? It was a question Hope had no answer for.
“Sorry about your car,” Gideon said. “It’ll be safe in the Hilton parking lot until morning. We’ll get someone out there then.”
The shooting and the resulting investigation, and then a couple of hours spent in the office they shared scanning unsolved murders outside the Wilmington area that were similar to Sherry Bishop’s, had delayed them until it was too late to call a mechanic. Gideon Raintree was driving her to her mother’s place. He had a thin stack of files he was taking home with him to look over later. He was hoping he would see something new if he had a fresh look.
Hope had to admit that Raintree certainly appeared to be motivated by something other than greed. Was it possible that he was truly as devoted to his job as he appeared to be? Maybe his parents’ murders had inspired him and there were no secrets waiting to be uncovered. No betrayal waiting to surprise her.
Meanwhile, she was exhausted and happy to be headed home, which at the moment was her mother’s apartment over The Silver Chalice, a New Age shop Rainbow Malory owned and operated in downtown Wilmington. Of course, Rainbow was not the name Hope’s mother had been given at birth. Her real name was Mary. A nice, solid, normal name, Mary. But at the age of sixteen Mary had become Rainbow, and Rainbow she remained.
To Hope’s horror, Gideon parked at the curb and killed the engine.
“Thanks,” Hope said, exiting the Mustang quickly and doing her best to dismiss her partner. Gideon Raintree was not easily dismissed. He left the driver’s seat and followed her. Luckily The Silver Chalice was two blocks from the parking space Gideon had found. “We had this discussion, Raintree,” she said sharply. “Would you have walked Leon home?”
“If someone shot at him, yes,” he responded.
“Someone was shooting at you, not me.”
“Prove it.”
True enough, she couldn’t prove anything. As her mother’s shop grew nearer, she straightened her spine and sighed. “This is fine. Thanks.”
“Is the shop still open?”
Hope glanced at her watch. In the summertime, the shop’s hours were extended to suit the tourists. “Yeah, but I can’t imagine there’s anything in the store that would interest you.”
“You don’t have any idea what might interest me.”
She had spent two days in this man’s company, and she didn’t know him at all, she realized. Hope reached the shop entrance and placed her hand on the door handle. “Don’t tell my mother that someone shot at us,” she said softly as she opened the door and the bell above her head chimed.
The Silver Chalice sold crystals and incense and jewelry made by local artisans. Th
ere was a display of tarot cards and runes for sale, as well as a collection of colorful silk scarves and hand-carved wooden boxes. The jewelry kept The Silver Chalice in business, but it was the New Age items that Rainbow Malory embraced. Strange, slightly off-key singing—meditation music, her mother called it—drifted from speakers overhead as Hope entered.
Rainbow looked up from her place at the counter and grinned widely. She was still very attractive at fifty-seven, though the streaks of gray in her dark hair gave away her age, as did the gentle smile lines in her face. She didn’t color her hair or wear any makeup. Or a bra.
“Who’s your friend?” Rainbow asked as she stepped from behind the counter. Her full, colorful skirt hung to the floor, the hem dancing around comfortable sandals.
“This is my partner, Gideon Raintree,” Hope said. “He wanted to look around, but he can’t stay.”
Hope watched as her mother became as entranced as every other woman who discovered Gideon for the first time. Her back got a little straighter. Her smile brightened. And then she said, “You have the most beautiful aura I’ve ever seen.”
Hope closed her eyes in utter embarrassment. She would never hear the end of this. Gideon would tell the other detectives over breakfast that Hope Malory’s mother was into auras and crystals and tarot cards. She waited for the laughter to start, but instead of laughing, Gideon said, “Thank you.”
Hope opened her eyes and glanced up at him. He didn’t look as if he was kidding. In fact, he looked quite serious and at home here, as he began to study the merchandise on the shelves. “This is nice,” he said. “Interesting products, pleasant atmosphere…”
“Atmosphere is so important. I try to fill my shop with positive energy at all times,” Rainbow said.
Again Hope wanted to shrink away, but her partner didn’t seem at all put off or amused. “I’ll bet the tourists love this shop,” he said. “It’s a peaceful place.”
“Why, thank you,” Rainbow responded. “That’s so astute of you. Of course, I knew as soon as I saw your aura…”
Not auras again. “Mom, don’t talk Raintree’s ear off. He has to go, anyway. He’s got things to do tonight.”
“Not really,” he said casually. “I want to take another look at those files, but I need a little time away from them first.”
She glared at him, but he ignored her as he continued to study the merchandise. If they were going to be partners, he would have to learn to take a hint.
“Join us for supper,” Rainbow said, a new excitement in her voice. “I’ll be closing up in twenty minutes, and there’s stew in the Crock-Pot. There’s more than enough for the three of us. You look hungry,” she added in a motherly tone of voice.
To Hope’s absolute horror, Gideon accepted her mother’s invitation.
No two women could be more dissimilar. Where Hope was openly wary and more often than not tied up in knots, her mother was open and relaxed. They looked a little alike, as mothers and daughters often did, but beyond that, it was hard to believe that they’d ever lived in the same house, much less shared DNA.
Dinner was thick beef stew and homemade bread. Simple, but tasty. Gideon steered clear of the television set in the living room, and took the chair that placed him as far away from the stove and microwave as possible. He did his best to keep any electrical surges low and controlled.
Obviously Hope wanted him to eat and get out as quickly as possible. She fidgeted; she cast decidedly uncomfortable glances his way. She was clearly embarrassed by her mother’s beliefs and openness. What would his new partner say if she knew that Gideon believed in everything her mother embraced? And more. He could make her suffer and stay on after the meal was done, but Gideon did Hope a favor and declined dessert and coffee when they were offered. He said thanks and good-night, to his partner’s obvious relief.
Rainbow remained in her little apartment, humming and cleaning the kitchen, and Hope walked with Gideon down the stairs.
“Sorry,” she said softly when they were halfway down the stairway. “Mom’s a little flaky, I know. She means well, but she never outgrew her hippie phase.”
“Don’t apologize. I like her. She’s different, but she’s also very nice.” Man, did he know about being odd man out. “Different isn’t always a bad thing.”
“Yeah,” Hope said with an audible scoff. “Try to believe that when your mother shows up for career day to talk about selling crystals and incense, and ends up heckling the CEO dad for ruining the environment and selling out to the corporate man.”
Gideon couldn’t help himself. He laughed.
“Trust me, you wouldn’t think it was so funny if she told your first real boyfriend that he had a muddy aura and really needed to meditate in order to boost his positive energy.”
“Positive energy is a good thing,” Gideon said as they reached the shop, where the lights had been dimmed when Rainbow locked the door for the night.
“You don’t have to patronize me,” Hope said sharply. “I know my mother is odd and flaky and just plain…weird.”
Gideon didn’t head directly for the door. He wasn’t ready to go home—not yet. He studied the crystals and jewelry in the display case, then fingered a collection of silver charms that hung suspended from a display rack. He choose one—a plain Celtic knot suspended from a black satin cord—and slipped it from the rack with one finger.
He turned his back to Hope, cupped the charm in both hands and whispered a few words. The faint gleam of green light escaped from between his fingers. The light didn’t last long; neither did the words he spoke.
“What are you doing?” Hope asked, circling to face him just as the glow faded.
He slipped the charm over her head before she knew what he was planning to do. “Do me a favor and wear this for a few days.”
She lifted the charm and glanced at it. “Why?”
Gideon had gifted the charm with protection. Only members of the royal family—Dante and Mercy in addition to himself—could gift charms, and they used the power sparingly. They could not bestow blessings on themselves, only others, and it was not an ability they advertised. Like everything else, it was a hidden talent that had to be carefully guarded. He didn’t know if this afternoon’s bullet had been meant for Hope or for him, but in either case, he would rest easier if she were protected. Nothing would shield her from everything, but the gifted charm would give her an edge. It would shield her with the positive energy she scoffed at for a few days, at least. Nine days, to be precise.
“Indulge me,” he said calmly.
Hope studied the charm skeptically. “I haven’t known you long enough to even consider that I should indulge your eccentricities.”
“We’ve been shot at. That means we bond quickly as partners and you indulge me in all my eccentricities.”
She was still uncertain, skeptical and wound so tight she was about to pop. The woman needed to have a little fun more than anyone he’d ever met.
While Hope was studying the Celtic knot, Gideon moved in on her. He backed her against the counter so she was trapped between his arms and the glass case. This close, he was reminded how tiny she was, how fragile. She tried so hard to be one of the guys, to be tough and independent and hard. But she was a woman, first and foremost, and she wasn’t hard. She was soft, and she wasn’t going anywhere, not until he was ready to let her go.
“Wear it for me,” he said, his voice low. “Wear it because it’ll make me feel better to know you have this lucky silver hanging around your neck.”
“It’s silly,” she protested, obviously bothered by the fact that she was trapped. “Besides, you don’t wear such a—”
He slipped a finger beneath his collar, snagged the leather cord and drew out the talisman Dante had sent him late last week. In the light cast from the streetlamps outside her mother’s shop and in the blue flashing light of the café across the street, she clearly saw the charm he wore around his neck.
“Oh,” she said softly. “I did see that…on
ce.”
“Just because you can’t see or feel or touch something, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” He had never tried to explain himself to anyone, much less a woman he hadn’t even known two days. Life was too short, and he didn’t care what people he barely knew thought of him. But Hope was surrounded by everyday magic, through her mother, and still she rejected it. That bothered him.
“So,” she said, her voice no more warm than it had been before, “do you see auras, too? Am I glowing in the dark, Raintree?”
“I don’t see auras.”
Was it a trick of the light, or was she relieved?
“That doesn’t mean I don’t believe I have one.”
He wanted her transferred, for her own good as much as his own. It was safer for him to work alone, and Hope was better suited to robbery or fraud or juvenile crimes. Anything but homicide. Any partner but him. She turned her head, and her throat caught the light from the street. Her neck was pale, slender and long enough to make him wonder what it would taste like. If Hope were renting a house on the beach for a week or two, if she were a tourist or a secretary or a sales clerk, he would gladly pick her up and take her home for an evening or two.
But she was his freakin’ partner, for God’s sake.
Not for long.
He leaned down and pressed his mouth against her neck. She gasped as he slipped his hand between their bodies and laid his palm against her belly, lower than was proper for partners, acquaintances or friends. Her body tensed; she was about to defend herself. She was going to push him away, or knee him where it would hurt the most.
Much of the body’s response was electrical, though few people seemed to realize that simple fact. Gideon understood the power of electricity very well. He’d lived with it all his life. Even now, with the solstice approaching and his abilities slightly out of whack, he had enough control to do what had to be done.
His hand fit snugly against Hope’s warm belly, pressed there as if he had the right to touch her in such a way. He reached inside Hope with the electric charge he’d harnessed. Through the thick fabric of her conservative trousers, through what was probably ordinary underwear—or would she surprise him with a slip of red silk and lace?—through her skin, he touched her and made her insides quicken and pulse. He made her orgasm with a touch of his hand and a sharing of his energy.
Raintree: Haunted Page 6