Undone by Moonlight

by Wendy Etherington

  Robin had served a great cause, but she—they—had to retire.

  “You killed Jimmie Forrester,” she said, proud of herself for her casual tone.

  Choking on her drink, Stephanie rose, and Calla was certain she was going to run. She didn’t touch her, though, as Devin had warned in her ear.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Stephanie said boldly, her eyes turning arctic.

  Calla ground her teeth as she dug for the effort to stay in control. “Oh, yes, you do. Your brother got arrested, and you got mad.” Calla shrugged. “You can’t imagine in the last few days how many women I’ve talked to who think like you do.”

  “Like we’ve all talked to,” Victoria said.

  Though Calla didn’t dare take her attention off the desperate woman in front of her, she felt her friends close behind her. “I’m sorry about your brother, but what you’ve done isn’t justice. It’s just plain wrong.”

  “We’ve got your back, baby,” Devin said in her ear.

  Calla shuddered, knowing, at long last, that it was time to confess. “You might have loved your brother, but I love Devin Antonio. You challenged the wrong vengeful blonde, honey.”

  Fueled by hate and whatever else she held against her cold heart, Stephanie charged Calla, attempting to get her hands around her neck.

  Calla whipped out her leg in a kick her daddy would have been pleased with.

  As Stephanie’s body crumbled at Calla’s feet and her friends huddled closer and others rushed in from every entrance of the club. Calla noticed Peeps’s gleeful expression out of the corner of her eye.

  Oh, well, they couldn’t prevent every injustice.

  Maybe, though, after tonight, her gang wouldn’t appear in the papers quite so much.

  The next thing she knew, she was in Devin’s arms. “We got her,” he said, holding her tight. “I can never repay you.”

  She didn’t expect payment. She expected him.

  Leaning back, she didn’t like the relieved but distant look in his eyes. She knew he was in work-mode, but something wasn’t right. “I need you.”

  He kissed her, then offered a strained smile as he helped his colleagues lead the suspect out of the club in handcuffs.

  And she knew it was finally over.

  15

  STEPHANIE PILAR, who had a diagnosed mental condition, and who had been in therapy with her ultimate victim Jimmie Forrester, was behind bars.

  Hopefully, Calla thought, for good.

  Her prints matched the partials the cops had pulled from the flower arrangement in Jimmie’s apartment, and she had not only gardenia-ladened perfumes on her bathroom counter, she had a chemistry set in which she’d tried to extract the essence of the blossoms for her own, personal scent.

  Her stepbrother, once employed as a gardener, had been caught in the act and arrested by Devin for armed robbery. Sadly, he’d died in prison in a gang stabbing.

  Ever since Robin Hood had been officially disbanded a week ago, Calla didn’t like to think about the notion of a gang. Or the fact that a row of gardenia bushes thrived in front of Stephanie’s Brooklyn cottage.

  As for how Devin was coping with getting his badge back and the assault charges dismissed, Calla had no idea.

  She hadn’t talked to or seen him since Stephanie’s arrest.

  He wouldn’t answer calls or texts. He wasn’t at home—or pretended not to be. The NYPD refused to let her beyond the reception desk, claiming the investigation was over, and the officers needed seclusion to finish their case reports.

  Her declaration of love over official police channels was probably too much for him to handle.

  Her friends—the former gang—had embraced her as expected, but as comforted as she was, she found herself clinging to Sharky.

  The cat understood both her affection and irritation. Lonely, they slept together. By day, they vowed to forget him.

  She was right back where she started, chasing a man who didn’t want her. She got it, he wasn’t a schmaltzy hearts and flowers kind of guy, which was fine by her. When he wasn’t being a stubborn hermit, she liked him as he was. When had she ever indicated otherwise?

  But she wanted to change one thing. She wanted to love him. If only he’d let her.

  * * *

  “YOU DO NOT HAVE GOOD luck with women.”

  A romance critique from Howard? Devin figured he could do worse. He hadn’t even had the guts to actually break up with Calla. He’d simply avoided her, knowing she’d be furious and toss him away.

  “I mean, you have the cool job and the good looks,” Howard went on, “but you are doomed, my friend.”

  Hunched over glasses of whiskey at O’Leary’s, Devin and Howard were lone wolves. Devin now had two homicidal women in his past; Howard was despondent over his prospects for the future.

  As they both knew their crucial loss of Calla, they had only each other.

  During the rush and confusion of Jimmie’s killer’s

  arrest, Devin had never gotten around to asking Jared and Trevor for advice in the romance department. And while he imagined Calla had celebrated with her friends, Devin had stayed away.

  Avoidance was instinctive.

  Thanks to desk work and sorting out the procedure for getting his badge back, he figured he’d sounded plausible for a few hours. But the more hours that went by, the more certain he was that he was doing the right thing by keeping his distance.

  She didn’t belong with him.

  She was light and hope; he was shadow and uncertainty. He’d known that from the moment he’d met her all those months ago. Nothing had changed. If anything, his suspension had magnified their differences.

  He was grateful, and always would be, but since vigilante justice had been used against them and Calla had declared Robin Hood retired, he saw no point in continuing the fairy tale.

  “Men always want to be a woman’s first love—women like to be a man’s last romance.”

  On the verge of sipping from his glass, Devin paused to consider Howard’s words. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Oscar Wilde,” Howard said, shaking his head ruefully. “It’s no wonder you’re alone.”

  “You’re alone.”

  “But I don’t have to be.” Howard leaned back in his chair. “I mention I’m a lawyer working with the top cops in the city, and I’d have twenty women lined up to talk to me.”

  “Uh-huh. And how many of them would want you to get their lover-husband-brother-uncle off of whatever he’s currently charged with?

  “Cops are mean.”

  Satisfied he’d burst somebody else’s bubble, Devin nodded. “And don’t you forget it, buddy.”

  They drank in silence for a few minutes before Devin admitted to himself he needed Howard. Which is one of the reasons he’d asked his former attorney to meet him in the first place. Why was he determined to alienate the people who got close?

  He’d been determined not to repeat his parents’ mistakes, yet, here he was being a completely ignorant jerk. “You’re a better boyfriend than me,” he confessed, fighting not to choke on the words.

  “I’m—” Thankfully, Howard’s brilliant mind skipped over the segue, not to mention the obvious jokes, and nodded. “Have you tried telling her you love her?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, good grief.”

  “You’re better at words.”

  Howard shook his head. “I’m not telling you what to say.”

  “I’m not a schmaltzy hearts and flowers guy.”

  Howard looked surprised. “No kidding?”

  Devin stared into the depths of his whiskey, but the color was too dark to compare to Calla. “She’s so...golden. Like a star around the moon. She lights up everybody around her, and my life, my past, my job is all about despair and darkness. But, for some crazy reason, she believes in me as nobody ever has. I don’t think I can live without her.”

  “Not bad words,” Howard commented.

 
“Ramblings,” Devin argued.

  “A bit.” Howard shrugged. “Remember the moon wouldn’t shine so brightly without the the dark, endless sky to reflect a distinction.”

  “Wilde, again?”

  “No. Howard Bleaker.” Smiling, he signaled for the check. “Be a hearts and flowers guy, my friend, and live the fairy tale.”

  * * *

  CALLA COULDN’T IMAGINE who was knocking on her door at nine-thirty on a Sunday. Chinese food had already been delivered, and she’d told her friends that she needed to work, since she had a story due on Wednesday, which she hadn’t started to write.

  Of course the cursor on her laptop was blinking like a bomb, and she hadn’t typed a word, but she hadn’t thought about Devin in the past ten minutes, either.

  Damn.

  There went her record.

  She scooped up Sharky and strode down the hall. Peeking through the hole in her door, she swore coarsely enough to pin Sharky’s ears back.

  “I know I deserve that,” Devin called from the other side.

  “You’re damned right you do,” Calla called back, feeling like an idiot.

  “Any chance you’ll let me in to explain?” he asked. “Your neighbors are liable to call the cops.”

  She longed to kick the door, but she’d bruised her toe when she’d taken her anger out on the dishwasher. “You are the cops.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  With a huff of reluctance, she unlocked the door, then immediately walked away, dropping onto the living room sofa. “You’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t want anything to do with me,” she said, glaring at him as he stood in front of her.

  Which is when she saw him holding a dozen roses and a heart-shaped box of candy.

  Sharky, the little traitor, purred like crazy.

  “What—”

  “I’m an idiot.”

  “You are?” Yes, he is, her conscience reminded her.

  “Can I sit?” he asked.

  In a daze, she nodded, watching him set the hearts and flowers on the coffee table.

  Tentatively, he reached out with his hand and covered hers. “I never believed I deserved you, and maybe I still don’t, but Howard reminded me that for the moon to shine, it needs a dark sky, so maybe we need each other.” He shook his head. “No, not maybe, I need you. Always.”

  “Howard?” she asked, confused.

  Devin laughed and leaned forward, cupping her face in his palm. “Not exactly the name I was looking for.” He stroked her cheek several times, sending tingles of desire straight through her. “I love you. Always.”

  Her gaze searched his, and though hurt and doubt lingered, Devin knew he’d do anything to make sure she understood how genuine his words truly were.

  “And I love you,” she said.

  He pressed his lips against hers. Relief, like rain after a long drought, washed over him. “So I heard in the surveillance truck.”

  “Sorry, I sort of blurted it out.”

  “I’m glad somebody had the guts to.” And he might never fully understand why she cherished him so much, but he was through rejecting the blessings in his life. He hadn’t been born under a bright star, but he was sailing by its light from now on. “I needed help from Howard.”

  She glanced at the table. “Hearts and flowers?”

  “You deserve them.” He squeezed her hand. “I’d be lost without you.”

  “I disbanded the gang.”

  “I heard. I have to admit I’m happy. I’d rather not listen to you confront a killer anytime soon.”

  Her fingertips traced a path down his shoulder. “I’ve had enough adventure for the time being.”

  Moving Sharky to the floor, Devin pinned her against the sofa cushions and inhaled her sweetness as he trailed kisses along her neck, her jaw, her lips. Nothing would ever feel so amazing as her smile and dedication.

  “Nothing happens on Sunday night,” she whispered.

  He grinned against her silky skin. “It does in fairy tales.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Blazing Midsummer Nights by Leslie Kelly!

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  1

  SOMEONE ONCE SAID that the course of true love never did run smooth. As Mimi Burdette watched two of her good friends sway together in a romantic dance, however, she had to disagree. Because the true love between this couple had been obvious to everyone who knew them, almost from the moment they’d met.

  “They look like a prince and princess,” murmured Anna, her neighbor, friend, landlady and tonight’s hostess.

  “Considering the setting, maybe a fairy king and queen.”

  She wasn’t kidding. The woods surrounding the backyard of the old plantation house just outside of Athens had been turned into a mythical forest. As dusk fell and a thousand twinkle lights began to gleam in the night, everyone at the engagement party slowed to appreciate the beauty all around them.

  A trio of musicians softly strummed their instruments, the lyrical notes riding a warm, summer breeze. The Spanish moss hanging from the live oaks gleamed silver under the evening dew and the firefly-soft lighting. Magnolias the size of dinner plates dotted the trees, looking like a thousand full moons, filling the air with their evocative scent. Lanterns hung from the lowest branches of the graceful pines, and the arches of a dozen arbors were draped with writhing, sweet-smelling jasmine and heavily laden grapevines.

  Okay, the vines and fruit were fake. But what an effect!

  “You really outdid yourself,” Mimi said to Anna, who stood watching the proceedings, wearing a smile.

  The older woman, dressed as always in colorful, flowing robes, merely shrugged. “Setting the stage for romance is easy when the people involved are meant for each other like Duke and Lyssa.” She chuckled. “Of course, it didn’t hurt that I’m helping with the costumes and props for the downtown theater group’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  With her filmy, billowing clothes, and her long ash-gray hair, loose and wavy and entwined with flowers, Anna looked more like a hippie than a retiree. So maybe it wasn’t so surprising that she could take a normal backyard, ringed by normal Georgia woods, and turn it into something out of a storybook.

  “Anyway, it was just a few lights, some fabric—easy.”

  “Maybe for you, but other than advertising, the creative wiring was left out of my genetic code. To me, this looks like pure sorcery and magic.”

  The soon-to-be bride and groom deserved a magical wedding. They were wonderful people, and she already missed having them as neighbors. They’d already moved into their new house, but until a week ago, had lived right across the hall from her own first-floor apartment in this grand old estate home.

  Anna and her husband, Ralph—dubbed Obi-Wan because of his love for all things Star Wars and his sage, all-knowing demeanor—had bought the place decades ago and raised their family here. Once the kids were gone, they’d divided the three-story mansion into six small apartments, figuring the rental
income would keep them nicely provided for in their retirement.

  With the unit across from Mimi’s vacant, and another unrented one on the second floor, the big house was feeling empty. Plus, Anna and Obi-Wan’s volatile marriage was on the rocks again. Obi-Wan’s one fault was his jealous streak. He was always accusing other men of being after his wife. His latest accusation had angered Anna enough that she had moved into one of the vacant units to teach him a lesson.

  In this economy, three rentals not bringing in any money was not a good thing. She had to wonder where Anna had come up with the funds to throw this engagement party for her former tenants. Mimi had offered to help pay—she could certainly afford it and would have loved to help—but Anna’s pride wouldn’t allow her to accept. The most she would allow was the use of Mimi’s nice discount on much of the food.

  Sometimes it really paid to be the daughter of the owner of a chain of grocery stores. Not to mention being the head of marketing for said grocery store chain, with an express ticket to the executive offices of her family’s business.

  Some people wondered why she lived here, in a small apartment in an old house, when she could afford to buy her own home, or sponge off her parents at their estate. But Mimi loved this place, loved the history of it. More importantly, she loved the sense of community she found here, where she was free to be herself and didn’t have to wear the socialite hat, or the business executive one. She could just be Mimi.

  “Oh,” Anna said, snapping her fingers as she remembered something. “You’re going to have new neighbors. My daughter, Helen, and her little boy are moving from Atlanta next weekend, taking the vacant unit on two. And I rented the apartment across from yours today.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful,” Mimi said, surprised.

  “I invited the new tenant to come tonight, but he didn’t want to intrude—he moved in this afternoon.”

  “You must be so glad,” she said, relieved to know one financial burden had been lifted from her landlords’ shoulders. She doubted they’d take rent money from their daughter, who had gone through a bad divorce last year.