a Touch of Ice

by L. j. Charles

  The night closed around me, soft and damp. Frogs were chatting, and their conversation eased the barrage of thought pounding at my brain—until the furtive rustle of fabric drowned them out.

  I froze, listening.

  Yep.

  That was fabric.

  Not Magnolia leaves this time. Fabric meant people. I felt the rush of adrenaline wash through me as the shape of two bodies formed out of the blackness.

  Twenty-two

  I didn’t panic. Not because I suddenly turned brave, but because the shadow of Violet’s movements were so familiar. And because no one could see me tucked into the inky darkness of the far corner of my deck. I sunk into the chair and appreciated the blackness of the night. And waited.

  Tynan Pierce spoke so softly I could barely make out the words. “El’s fine. Adam and Mitch wouldn’t be hanging out if anything happened to her.”

  “Adam gave me the basics, but I need to get over there. See what went down. We spent too many hours on recon when I should have been watching her back. West has kept one step ahead of us, and it scares me.” Violet’s voice was stiff with worry. “Plus it’s irritating as all hell.”

  “If West wanted Everly she’d be dead. Let it go.”

  Her sigh floated on the night air. “Yes. And if he’s on to me, she’d make perfect bait.”

  Like a worm on a hook? A dead worm?

  I wasn’t into getting dead. Not anytime soon.

  Annie kept talking. “This is too close to home, Pierce. And someone in that bastard’s network is going to spot me soon. I don’t want to be the one who puts El in danger, or Mitch, or Adam.”

  “Hey, you left me out of your line-up.” The Irish was heavy in his teasing. “We’ll get him, A.J. because we’re the good guys. It’s our job to save lives, make the world a better place.”

  “Right. Good guys always pretend to be someone they’re not, lie to their friends. What if El can’t forgive me?”

  “You haven’t talked yet?”

  “No. She was gone all day and had that date with Mitch tonight. Besides, we were working.” Violet’s voice drifted into the night.

  “Past time for you two to talk.”

  “I know. She’s acting…different, and you know how much the shape-shifting comment she made out at the barn scared me. But, oh, damn. You like her. I can hear it in your voice. She’s off-limits, Pierce. You know that.”

  “Yeah, I like her. There’s something…doesn’t matter. She belongs with Mitch. He’s a good man. Might be you want to ask her about the acting different.”

  Another Violet sized sigh. “Yeah. I plan to. There just hasn’t been a good opportunity.”

  “Make one.”

  “You’re not telling me something,” Violet said, her voice sharp.

  Pierce grunted. “She’s your friend, and she’s not talking to you. Probably doesn’t know what to say. She won’t keep things from you if you ask her directly. Everly isn’t like us.”

  “I know. Guess I’m not ready for her to know all about my sordid life quite yet.”

  “She probably knows more than you think, A.J. That touch thing is a real pain in the ass.”

  “Lately it has been. I pulled away from her, physically. I never do that. She touched my hand a few days ago, right after I’d been with Adam, and I panicked.”

  “Talk to her before this bites you in the ass.”

  Say something, El. You have to stop with the eavesdropping. It’s wrong. Even if you are learning stuff, even if you desperately want to be in the loop. Part of a…family.

  The blackness shimmered. From movement, maybe. “If she knew,” Violet said uneasily, “she would have confronted me. Everly can’t keep a secret worth a darn. She’s never even hinted that I could be anyone or anything other than Violet James, PI.”

  I felt his eyes bore into me across the space between the decks. Damn. It had to be impossible for him to see me. How did he know I was here? Did he know? My skin tingled with the intensity of his gaze.

  I was so not cut out to be a spy. What was I thinking to fantasize about helping catch the bad guys when I couldn’t even hide out in the black of night?

  “You’re the one who told me she doesn’t miss much.” Pierce’s voice held muffled laughter.

  “True. And we need to get her fingers out to the stable, see what she can pick up. Gotta go. See what’s going on with Adam. Guess I’ll go out the window, pick up the car and pull into the driveway—like I’ve been to the movies or something.”

  Moonlight flicked through the clouds for an instant, and I caught a glimpse of Pierce’s hand resting on the railing that circled Violet’s deck. My fingertips itched at the possibility of latent images from his touch.

  “Maybe I should hang around, see how you pull that one off.”

  “You’re perverse, Pierce, you know that?”

  “Un-huh. I’ve got stuff to do. Give me a time and place to meet you and Adam tomorrow, late morning. If I come up with anything else tonight, I’ll run it by you then.”

  “We like diners. They’re equipped with comfort food and jukeboxes—a tradition since childhood. Let’s say Gypsy’s at ten. Bring quarters.”

  Pierce vaulted lightly over the railing and disappeared into the night the soft thud of his landing disappearing into the night. Two stories down. How did he do that? Violet-slash-Annie-slash-A.J. slipped through her kitchen door. I figured she’d be downstairs for a while talking to whoever was still around, and that gave me a perfect opportunity to gather my own information.

  I worked my way from under the blanket, stood, and deliberately planted my feet one in front of the other. The wood was cool and rough against the bottom of my feet. It helped to ground me as I stretched across the space between our decks to touch the place where Pierce had rested his hand. The rail was cool and rough to my touch, like the wood under my feet. I took another deep breath and let the images flow through me—Pierce sifting through hay, disturbing a family of mice, waving Violet off to go do something else. And then the kicker—a shaft of moonlight touched the floor in front of him and I watched him pick up a stone, diamond bright, smaller than the tip of his little finger.

  The snick of a zipper and the sound of clothes hitting the floor told me Mitch was home and headed for the shower. I pried my eyes open long enough to take in a pretty fantastic view of muscle, flat belly and, as I’d made previous note—an incredible ass. It was worth giving up a few minutes of sleep.

  When he walked by the bed I caught a whiff of sweat and fear. It was reassuring in an odd sort of way. This man, who by the very nature of his work was comfortable in tight spots, didn’t do fear all that often. And he sure as all hell wasn’t afraid of Donny Civitelli.

  That meant it had to be me.

  He was worried about me.

  Okay, a little heavy on the ego, and yes, drawing conclusions, probably not my best move. But this was Mitch. Over-protective Mitch. He made a habit of worrying about me so it was probably a safe assumption. Usually it ticked me off, but right now, this minute, it was oddly reassuring.

  The sound of the shower cut into my thoughts and a new scent assaulted my nose. Black on Black. I like the fragrance, told him I did not too long ago, and it sent a shiver through my belly that he took time to make the purchase. It must have been in his duffle because there wasn’t any in my shower a few hours ago. The man was making himself at home, and it sent another one of those tingles pouring through my body.

  I thought about getting out of bed, availing myself of his wet, soapy body, but my body refused to move. I didn’t even have enough energy to roll over, was lucky to have pried my eyes open long enough to appreciate his stroll to the shower.

  He slid into bed and spooned around me.

  “Mmmm.” It was the best I could do as a greeting.

  “Sleep.” His breath whispered against my ear, warm and safe.

  I breathed out a sigh and didn’t wake until several hours later, not rested, but not sleepy enough to lie n
ext to Mitch without touching. My mind played with how natural it was to wake up next to him. Comfortable. Not something I’d ever felt before.

  The other part of me, the aching, feminine part, was screaming for attention, and almost won the battle to wake him, but he’d barely had any rest and looked too peaceful to disturb. My libido lost the battle, barely, with my rational mind, so I eased out of bed and padded to the kitchen.

  I needed to find something to keep my fingers busy and out of trouble, so I put on a pot of coffee, then decided to hand-wash the dishes that were still in the sink from yesterday. Warm soapy water, a basic chore, instant gratification with a simple task accomplished—so normal in my otherwise screwy life. I was swishing the dishcloth around the last bowl when he came up behind me.

  A whiff of Black on Black teased my nose or I wouldn’t have known he was there. Quiet. Close enough that I could feel the heat from his body brush against my back. A wisp of cool air hit my neck when he lifted the wild tangle of my hair and rubbed his lips against the sensitive area just below my ear.

  Panic and need slammed through my body, and I grabbed an inhalation, held the breath until the zing of need mellowed into a steady rush of heat that settled between my legs and made my knees weak. I leaned back against him and his erection pressed against me as his hands came around to cup my breasts.

  The bowl slid from my fingers, disappeared beneath the dishwater. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Hmmm. Seems I’m awake.”

  I turned in his arms, meeting his gaze, searching for…didn’t matter. It was there, giving me permission to touch him. I brought my fingertips to his chest, soapsuds leaving a glistening trail down my arms. Images flashed through my mind. “Is that how you really see me? Strong and soft…and the glow, the energy? When you look at me, you see that? Not just a memory from the photograph?”

  He covered my hands with his, pressed them tight to his skin. “Not a memory, no. The camera didn’t lie, just gave me a way to capture who you are. Right place. Right time. Right woman.”

  I stretched onto my toes and laced my arms around his neck. A brief touch of lips. A shiver of certainty. This man reached beyond the obvious to find the essence of me. “You accept me, all of me.” I whispered the words, a sigh between us. The tip of my tongue found the fullness of his bottom lip.

  He deepened the kiss, exploring the rough and the gentle, the intense and the playful. I let my fingertips roam freely along his neck, his face, tracing the muscles across his shoulders and down his back. Every image held the wonder of what we shared. He appreciated my body, wanted to claim me with primitive, wild sex that made me quiver with need. But there was so much more. So much of me that I didn’t know existed. With every touch, he discovered new facets of the woman I am, the woman I was becoming. I wanted to know all of her. Now.

  I pushed him away, just far enough to free my hands. “Now, Mitch. Right now.” I slid my hands under the waistband of his boxers, pushed them to the floor.

  Sex on the kitchen counter. Not how I envisioned our first time, but wow. Just wow. My fingers explored, the images were intoxicating. Never had I been so close to another person. Never had I lost myself so completely in sensations that weren’t my own. Intense pleasure pulsed between us as our bodies, our minds, fought for the power of release and won.

  Eventually we made our way back to the bedroom and spent a long time exploring the various ways we could appreciate each other, touching, talking, learning the nuances of how to love each other. It was mid-morning, and several condoms later before we surfaced and were capable of any rational conversation.

  Mitch ran the back of his hand along my cheek. “Why were you washing dishes? You usually use your dishwasher.”

  “That’s a strange question.” I wrinkled my nose. “There can’t be another man on the planet who would notice or care how the dishes got washed.”

  His eyes were hooded, protective. “I don’t give a damn about the dishes. I do care about how you’re doing after last night’s confrontation with Donny.”

  “Huh? Where have you been for the past few hours? I thought our behavior was healthy enough that it was going to kill me. There were a few times I stopped breathing, and let me just say—wow.”

  “You were doing dishes before—look, it seemed like you were trying to wash something away. Like Lady Macbeth.”

  “I was trying to keep my hands out of trouble. They wanted to feast on your body, and I thought you might appreciate some sleep after, how did you put it, our confrontation with Donny. Speaking of which, how did things go last night with Adam?”

  His answer was to pick me up and deposit me in front of the bathroom mirror while he adjusted the shower.

  “Oh, damn.” My hands flew to the tangled mass of a red Brillo pad that used to be my hair. I glanced at the razor lying on the sink. “Maybe I should just shave it all off.” Apparently going to bed with wet hair and then indulging in creative lovemaking was not the best choice of activities to insure a good hair day. Finger. Light socket. Only way to describe it.

  “Do not touch that razor.” Mitch said, pulling me into the shower. He worked most of a bottle of conditioner through my tangled mass of curls until the heavy weight hung smooth and straight down my back.

  “Amazing hands. You have the best hands ever.” Turns out they were good for oh, so much more than untangling knots. Black on Black clung to both of us and filled the steamy bathroom with the memory of sex and the scent of possibilities. Could be my fave fragrance, ever.

  Mitch finished dressing before me and reached to silence the insistent ringing of the phone while I pulled on jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers. I followed the sound of his voice to the kitchen, the intonation telling me he was talking to Violet or Adam.

  I took the opportunity to grab my cell and reschedule my afternoon appointment. There was no way I’d be able to focus on work until I’d had a chance to catch up on everyone’s activities, and especially not until I’d had a chance to touch the barn again.

  Mitch came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and nuzzled my neck. “We’re going to meet Violet and Adam at Gypsy’s for breakfast. That work for you? I thought you’d want to re-hash what went down last night and bring everyone up to speed.”

  “That sounds great. I’m starved. Don’t usually engage in that much exercise first thing in the morning.”

  His lips curved into a playful smile. “Happy to help you out with that. Anytime.”

  “Um-hmm, color. Clashes with the hair I’ll bet.” I gave him a quick kiss, and worked to keep my expression bland as we headed to the car. It’s such a bother to know stuff you’re not supposed to know—and uncomfortable to keep it from someone you trust and care about. Not that I couldn’t tell Mitch about the eavesdropping, but we’d been…busy. And there wasn’t time to go into it before we arrived at the diner and pulled into a parking space right in front of the door.

  My mind kept busy with thoughts about the deep, dark secrets that might come out against the background of clattering dishes, the smell of greasy food, and the oldies music. Mitch and I arrived first, and I was busy digging out quarters and making selections on the table jukebox when Violet and Adam joined us.

  Interesting. No Pierce. Must have been a change of plans when they invited me and Mitch.

  Violet bent to give me a hug. “Scared me when I got home, what with the flashing lights in front of your house.”

  “I went to check on you. No answer. You missed an interesting evening.” I tried to keep it casual. Friendly.

  “Mitch and I hung around the station longer than expected.” Adam swallowed a mouthful of coffee, then grinned at Violet and flicked his thumb in her direction. “She pulled into the driveway right after we did and did this weird jog-stop-jog walk toward us. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an uncertain expression on her face. Looked like she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to know what happened or was afraid to hear the answer.”

  Violet gla
red at Adam over a forkful of scrambled egg, then turned her attention to me. “You’ve been getting into so much trouble lately, it was push-pull whether I wanted the details. Eventually Adam explained about Donny Civitelli breaking in. Love it that you tripped him with judicious placement of your new Via Spigas.”

  “Accidental. Can’t take any credit because it was pure reflex. If I’d known he had a gun, I’d probably wouldn’t have lost my temper and pounded on him.”

  “You don’t look any the worse for it this morning. In fact—”

  I cut her off with an under-the-table kick. We were not going to discuss my sex life over eggs, bacon, and hash browns. And we especially weren’t going to discuss it in front of Detective Adam Stone, or Mitch for that matter.

  “She does have a temper.” Mitch smiled, subtext evident. He must have felt my leg swing toward Violet. “I was beginning to feel sorry for Donny ‘cause when she’s mad, she sure as hell doesn’t pull her punches.”

  I landed a playful slug on his arm. He caught my fist, pried it open, and planted my palm on his thigh. “You get into more trouble than any woman I’ve ever met. Takes some getting used to.”

  To my surprise, Adam chimed in. “If I were Donny Civitelli, I wouldn’t come anywhere near her unless I had a new pair of red shoes as a peace offering.”

  Violet glanced at me, horror clouding her eyes. “Donny Civitelli ruined your new Via Spigas? The man is toast if he ruined those shoes. Might as well hang it up right now.”

  She glanced at Adam. “You have him in protective custody, right?”

  “I do. I need to keep him alive long enough to get through another interview this afternoon.”

  I knew they were teasing me, but I’d started to seethe again at the mention of my shoes. “Damn him,” I said through clenched teeth.” I thought for a minute. “You don’t think it was Donny who shot me, do you?”

  Mitch shook his head, decisive. “No, Donny was following me because I found Tony’s body. If anything, I led him to you, and that really pisses me off. If there were any way to keep you out of this mess, I would, but since you’re the one with the magic fingers…in many, many ways.”