He smiled genuinely for the first time since we met. “So you’ve been thinking about me ever since?”
Good one, Jackson Hunter.
“Well, yeah,” was all I could think to say. It was true. I couldn’t get his face out of my mind, or his lean muscled form with that conservative scattering of tattoos, or his bottomless voice that sent a warm snake up my middle every time I heard him speak. He was a rock star on a Harley. “But don’t get the wrong idea.”
He leaned into his knees and nearly dropped me with his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of getting the wrong idea about you, Katie.”
I shook it off, remembering that he was a thief. “So, what did you steal that has them so pissed off?” I glanced toward the side of my house where the Harley was parked. “You own that bike, right?”
“Let’s just say I walked away with two of their most precious possessions: their secrets, and Kaleb’s daughter. Well, his daughter’s pride. But if you’re a Sapanth, that’s the equivalent of an entire bank account.” He sighed heavily, like the thought of recounting it all over again was tedious. “Sapanths make a lot of money from marital arrangements—dowries. Only in their world the dowry comes from the guy, and that future son-in-law expects untouched property, if you know what I mean.”
A thought suddenly smacked me in the head as I glanced at his feet and worked my way back up to his face. “Hold on. Is this your way of telling me you’re a shifter, too?”
He shook his head. “Not even close. But I know that they are, and that was just fine as long as I was a lifetime member. Generally, if you make it to membership level, it’s for life. They didn’t appreciate me disappearing in the middle of the night.”
“This woman was your girlfriend?”
“I wouldn’t call her that. Kara just didn’t like the idea of being owned by one man, and believe me, I wasn’t the first guy she messed with. Unfortunately, my best friend Pete was the first. They killed him for that.”
He got up and walked toward the door. “I’ll have that second beer now.” He came back out with two bottles and handed one to me. “I got out of there before they killed me, too. I knew some people down here, so here I am.”
“And then you walked into my shop and decided to insult me with your chauvinistic charm,” I added.
A sly grin slid up his face. “I couldn’t guarantee I’d be able to maintain my manners with your hands all over me. You should thank me, Katie. I did you a favor.” He took another swig and penetrated me with his eyes again. “Then I got a peek at those claws and green eyes tonight and figured you were one of Kaleb’s girls, sent down from Atlanta to tie up loose ends. But now I got a feeling you’re nothing like them, are you?”
“It depends on what they’re like,” I replied. It wasn’t really a question, though. He was musing about what I might actually be. And for some odd reason I wanted to show him.
“I want you to go somewhere with me tomorrow night,” he said. “It’ll be fun.”
15
“Thanks, Mae.” I took my breakfast to my usual booth, the one with a view of the shop. I’d barely slept after Jackson drove off the night before, the same way he came, across my grass and down my neighbor’s driveway. I did check the grass when I got up. Except for a path of flattened blades that were already recovering under the morning sun, the lawn was fine. Had it been rainy and soggy the night before, he’d be getting a bill for the damage.
I had the whole day to think about where he was taking me after work. Even more distracting was the thought of what we might do when we got there. If fact, we came dangerously close to crossing that line just before he left in the early hours of the morning. Trying to ignore the attraction between us was futile.
“Shit,” I sighed, my mind racing over the past twenty-four hours, and how any day now I’d turn on the TV and hear the news about the missing assistant DA who’d vanished into thin air. Fin Cooper was a powerful man in this town, and I prayed that power was enough to get me out of this mess. I’d killed a man. Self-defense or not, I had to live with the memory of Christopher’s dying face looking back at me as the life left his eyes. My one chance was that they never found that body, because it was a hell of a lot harder to convict without one. But they still could if they built a case around an eyewitness placing me with Christopher the night he disappeared. Who would a jury believe—a respected member of the local community or an outsider covered with tattoos? The power of social prejudice was not in my favor.
And then there was the spirit responsible for all of it, still prowling out there like a loose cannon. If Fin didn’t call by noon, I was calling him. We needed a plan and we needed it now.
My eyes wandered around the room. Every face looking back at me was a possible new host, and I refused to let it just walk up on me again. Christopher was practically hurling red flags at me last night, but I just shrugged it off as a mood until it was too late. That would be the last time I ignored my intuition, and don’t think for a minute I didn’t vet Jackson Hunter for signs of possession the second he looked at me through that glass door last night.
I took a bite of my biscuit and saw Mouse through the window opening the shop. Mouse always came in from the front of the building. Having no driver’s license, she walked to work every day, which was no burden since she only lived a few blocks south of the shop. She probably would have walked even if she had a car.
My eyes panned back around the room. Lou had been operating the diner for close to forty years, serving breakfast and lunch. The place closed by three p.m. every day and reopened the next morning at six a.m. I suspected the menu hadn’t changed much since opening day. Maybe a few new items added over the years for the lunch crowd, but breakfast was one of those meals that you really couldn’t improve on. People who wanted eggs Benedict or croissants stuffed with chocolate didn’t come to Lou’s, nor did the folks who worried about fat and calories. Good old heart attack food came out of Lou’s kitchen.
I finished my breakfast and headed across the street to the shop, glancing at my phone as I dodged traffic. It was 9:43 a.m. I’d lost track of time, but under the circumstances it was warranted.
Sea Bass shot me a frustrated look when I walked through the front door, about the same time a blur of bright orange hair and freckles blew past me and nearly knocked over a tray of ink.
“Tommy!” someone yelled. “Get your ass over here and sit down.”
It was Beth Hendricks, my 9:20 a.m. appointment. The boy careened back through the shop and slammed into her chest.
“This ain’t no daycare, Beth,” Sea Bass said. Beth Hendricks went to high school with Sea Bass. He knew her well, which excused the attitude I normally frowned upon when dealing with clients. But she’d been warned more than once not to bring her kids to the shop, because they were little hellions without a shred of manners or discipline. More for liability reasons than anything else. Nothing like a wild Indian crashing into you while you’re applying a fine line of ink to a client’s skin. At least she only brought one of them with her today.
“I’m sorry, Beth,” I apologized. “I had a little family emergency.” Mouse’s ten o’clock client walked through the door and I shook my head. “Tommy can’t be in here, Beth.” I pointed to the sign on the wall that said NO SMALL CHILDREN IN THE SHOP. “It’s not fair or safe for the other clients.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do with him?” she asked.
“That ain’t our problem, Beth,” Sea Bass continued, taking a little more pleasure than necessary putting her in her place. “Jeez, it’s not like you’re coming to the ER.” They were like a pair of bitchy old neighbors bickering over one’s dog shitting in the other’s yard.
“He’s right,” I agreed. “We’ll have to reschedule when you can get someone to look after the kids.”
She grabbed her redheaded hellion and stomped toward the door. “Maybe I’ll just go over to Tattoo Haven. I bet they’re kid friendly over there.”
Maybe. I’m sure they’d l
ove to entertain that child of hers while she got her two-inch heart applied to her hip. Hell, an hour of daycare cost more than that, so technically she’d owe us more than double by the end of the session. “You do what you have to do, Beth,” I said.
Mouse’s client looked relieved. I went for the coffee pot to have my fourth cup of the morning, like I wasn’t already buzzed enough to cause my own bull-in-a-china shop episode if I didn’t slow down on the caffeine.
“You okay, Katie?” Sea Bass asked.
“Not really, but I’m working on it.” He went back to prepping his station. “How’s Marvin doing?” The vet had ruled out any broken bones, but the big guy had been badly bruised when he slammed against the window during the car crash. I guess doggie seat belts weren’t such a joke after all.
“Milking it for all he can,” he snorted. “That damn dog is smart. He walks just fine when he thinks no one’s looking at him, but damn if he doesn’t hold that paw up and dangle it in the air the minute one of us starts fawning over him.”
“Yeah, real manipulators,” Abel said. “Just like kids.”
Sea Bass looked up at me. “You know, I never asked you how it went with that biker the other day. Did he break down and let an inferior girl do his tattoo?” Without looking up from the sketch she was preparing, Mouse picked up a pen and threw it at him. “Hey now, I’m just repeating the facts.”
“He let me work on him.” I left it at that. He was picking me up at home for our little outing that evening, so I opted for discretion until I determined just what was going on between us. For all I knew Jackson Hunter would turn out to be a real asshole, and after that tattoo was complete I might never lay eyes on him again.
It was nearly one o’clock when Fin Cooper walked through the door. I was beginning to get antsy waiting for his call and planned to pick up the phone myself as soon as I finished with the client in my chair.
“You know, Fin, you could have just called,” I said without taking my eyes off my client’s arm.
“It’s a fine day out there, Miss Bishop. I thought you and I might take advantage of one of our lovely squares and continue that little talk we were having last night.” I glanced at Sea Bass and Abel who were both listening to our conversation, and then back at Fin. He got the message and shut up. “Maybe we can just grab some lunch.”
“Give me a few minutes,” I said.
Fin strolled over to the other side of the room and started up a conversation with Sea Bass. “How’s that grandmother of yours, Sebastian?” He grabbed a magazine someone left on the counter and started flipping through it.
“All right, I guess. You’ve probably seen her more than I have lately, though.” He barely glanced at Fin. I think he was still a little wounded about finding out that Davina McCabe—his sweet little Grams—was a card-carrying member of the Crossroads Society. She apparently had a gift for spotting people with unusual talents—me, for one—which made me suspect she had her own secret talents that made her invaluable to the society.
I finished wrapping up my client’s arm. “Ready, Fin?” He dropped the magazine back on the counter and nodded to Sea Bass. “I’ll be back in an hour,” I said as we walked out the door and headed a few blocks toward the park.
“I do love to walk in this city,” he said to fill the awkward gap of silence between us. “I’ve been meaning to get more exercise.”
Fin didn’t strike me as the type to spend his time in a gym. Despite his bad habit of smoking an occasional cigar or cigarette, he was lean and fit. I imagined he did have to work at it and probably had an arsenal of exercise equipment buried in his basement. “I bet you’re one of those types who gets up at four a.m. to work out,” I said.
He laughed. “Something like that.”
“What are we doing, Fin?”
“Right now, Miss Bishop, we’re just walking.”
We walked through the entrance of the square and strolled down the cobblestone path, past the rows of monkey grass and the majestic trees. “Can we please stop pretending that I didn’t kill a man last night?”
“A thing, Miss Bishop. You dispatched a thing. That was no longer a man lying on that floor.”
“And yet Christopher Sullivan is dead. He was a good person, Fin. How do I live with what I did?”
“If that creature of yours didn’t come out when it did last night, the society could very well be hunting you right now, Miss Bishop. I doubt the spirit intended to inhabit you, but it appears it came very close to losing control and doing just that.” His eyes shifted toward me and I could hear his breath deepen and his voice drop an octave. “You are an irresistible woman, Miss Bishop. You must know that.”
I slowed down and he turned to face me, making it impossible to move under his firm gaze. “Now I need to know that you’re steady as a boat on smooth water. You see, Miss Bishop, your actions are the society’s actions. Anything stupid that you might decide to do will have a direct impact on a whole lot of people. Do we understand each other?”
After a moment of digesting the threat he’d just politely delivered, I nodded.
His arm wrapped around my shoulders as he moved us along the sidewalk again. “Good. Now, about this man you were entertaining last night—right after you killed Sullivan.”
“What?” I nudged his arm off my shoulder and shot him a dirty look. “Are you spying on me now? Let’s get something straight, Fin. We’re in bed together—figuratively—but who I see and what I do in the privacy of my own home is my business. Off limits to you, Lillian, or anyone else at the society. If I find so much as a strange car parked on my block when I get home—” I shut my eyes for a second to rein in my anger. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed Fin Cooper. But I drew the line at my privacy. “If you want to know something about me, ask.”
“I believe I just did.”
“Don’t play games with me, Fin. I don’t like being followed or spied on. I’m loyal. If you’re up front with me, I’ll be up front with you—if it pertains to our common goal. Are we clear?”
A fleeting smile flashed across his face. “Well, Miss Bishop, I believe you just put me in my place.” That smile faded a second later as he countered. “As long as it doesn’t threaten my freedom in any way, I’ll be respectful of your privacy. But if it does—”
“Don’t worry. I’m not interested in a life behind bars any more than you are.”
He nodded in concession and we continued with our stroll. “So where do we go from here?” I asked. “How do we catch this thing?”
“Now that is a good question,” he replied. “But I think we may have come up with something that just might work. Are you available this evening, Miss Bishop?”
The question caught me off guard because I wasn’t sure if he was talking business or pleasure. “No. I have plans.” I left it at that. No need to expound on what those plans were, especially since he’d already overstepped his bounds. And a little knock on the door of my intuition told me his interest wasn’t purely professional.
“Very well. But I must insist that you make yourself available tomorrow night. Lillian is throwing a little dinner party for a few members to discuss a strategy for hunting down the spirit. I’m sure everybody will be obliged to delay in order to accommodate your schedule, Miss Bishop. Besides, parties are always better on a Friday night.” He waited for an argument. When he didn’t get one he continued. “I’ll send my car around to your house around say . . . seven-thirty?”
I left the shop in Sea Bass’ hands and went home a couple hours early to feed Jet and take a shower before Jackson showed up for our mysterious night out. All he’d said was to dress comfortably because we’d be outside. Not ready to call this a date, I slipped on a casual sundress and a pair of sandals that had no connotations attached.
Around nine o’clock I started to get a little annoyed. He never specified a time he’d pick me up, but common sense said that anything later than eight o’clock on a weeknight was unreasonable. I fiddled around my clean
kitchen, wiping the counters and glancing at the clock on the stove every few minutes. An hour later I finally conceded that I’d been stood up.
“Asshole!” I spat, sending Jet flying out of the room. I didn’t even have his phone number to call him and give him an earful, and I had a good mind to drive down to the shop to get it off the computer.
I changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and climbed on the couch with a glass of wine. It was ten-thirty when I heard his Harley rolling down my street and into my driveway. “Are you fucking kidding me,” I muttered, walking to the door prepared to send him packing. I opened it just as his foot hit the porch. He grinned and presumed to try to walk past me into the house.
“Uh-uh,” I said, shaking my head and stopping him from inviting himself in.
He looked confused. “No? I thought we had a date.”
I spotted his cell phone in his front pocket and unabashedly reach my hand inside to extract it. Then I held it up to show him the time. “See that? It’s 10:37 p.m.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “I told you I’d pick you up late tonight.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I didn’t?” He seemed surprised. “Well, I’m here now. What I want to show you doesn’t start until late at night. I thought I mentioned that. If I didn’t, I’m sorry.”
His apology was genuine enough that I couldn’t stay mad. I also couldn’t explain why I wanted to go off with him to some strange destination at ten-thirty on a work night.
“You gonna invite me in, or should I leave and go off somewhere to lick my wounds?”
I pushed the door wide open and stepped aside. “Give me a minute to change.”
He assessed my shorts and T-shirt. “You’re dressed perfect for where we’re going. Throw on some sneakers for the ride, but bring a pair of flip-flops. That’s all you’ll need.” He had on a pair of loose jeans with several rips that appear to be from age—not manufacture—and a tank top that showed off every ripple of his well-honed abs. “You can throw them in my backpack.”
Crossroads of Bones (A Katie Bishop Novel Book 1) Page 14