by Devon Monk
“No room,” Cooper said. He didn’t budge, using up bench space that would seat at least two people.
Ryder glanced around the room looking for a spare chair, but the place was full. “It’ll work.” He dropped down so close to the other man that Cooper grunted and moved to one side to keep from getting pinned.
Ryder bit into his twist, still not looking at the man next to him. Which might be because they were sitting so close, they’d have to lean away from each other to actually make eye contact. That could not be a comfortable arrangement.
Cooper pulled one shoulder forward, leaning his elbow on the table.
Ryder sat there, unconcerned, drinking coffee.
“When did you say you were leaving?” Ryder asked.
“I just got here,” Cooper said. “Might never leave.”
“He got a reason to stay, Delaney?” Ryder chewed with nonchalance.
“In the bakery or in Ordinary?”
“I find myself curious to both answers.”
Cooper snorted. “Jackass.”
“Freeloader,” Ryder shot back.
I watched them. Wondered what history between them that I’d missed. Wondered if I’d have to break them up like Odin and Zeus. Seriously, could I not go a day without two men having it out?
“When are you skipping town again?” Ryder asked, still not looking over at him. “I’d like to throw a parade.”
“Get off my back, Bailey. You play Boy Scout, but you’re a liar. Where the hell have you been all these years? College and some fancy job in a big city doesn’t lead a man back to this low-rent shack town. You came back for a reason, and it isn’t a good one.”
Ryder didn’t show any reaction to that except for his eyes. For the first time since he’d sat, he looked down, looked sideways.
If I were trained to read body language, to interrogate, to read people, I’d say Cooper had hit too close to secrets Ryder didn’t want to tell. I might even think Ryder was sizing up how many times he could sucker-punch Cooper before I stopped him.
“Take it outside, Reserve Officer Bailey,” I said calmly. “You might not be on the clock, but that won’t keep me from arresting you for disturbing the peace.”
Ryder’s gaze flicked up. Eyes filled with heat, mouth curved at one corner into a wicked smile, he did not look like someone willing to apologize for his behavior, nor worried about arrest. His tongue tip slipped at the bottom of his lip, which he then bit.
My own mouth went dry. The brief touch of teeth on the soft swell of his lower lip, the heat in his eyes telling me he liked the idea of being on the wrong side of the law—or maybe just liked the idea of me manhandling him.
An entirely different kind of heat shot through me, leaving an electric hum deep in my belly.
Maybe Cooper was right about one thing: Ryder Bailey was no Boy Scout.
Ryder shifted, the heat, the wicked smile, stowed away. “Sorry, chief. I’m not here to cause trouble.” The sparkle in his eyes said differently.
You, Mr. Bailey, are trouble.
He popped the last of his donut in his mouth and leaned back. “I like this town, Cooper. Low rent or not, it has always been good to me. If you don’t like it, I hear the casino’s looking for talent. They need a guitarist.”
And this was helpful Ryder. The guy I’d always known to offer a hand even before someone asked for it. Even if that person was someone Ryder didn’t particularly like.
Like Cooper Clark.
“I don’t need your help,” Cooper said.
The song of power throbbed behind my temples, and the coffee wasn’t settling well in my stomach. I took a couple deep breaths to try to settle both, but the hot, damp air wasn’t doing me any good.
“Delaney?” Ryder said.
I stood up. “I need some air.”
“Let me—” he started.
“See you at the station,” I said.
I wove through the patrons and out the door, the bag with Jean’s maple bar clenched in my left hand, the song of power rolling like a drunken choir going through tune-up with a rusty band in my head.
The cool air hit my face, and I swallowed it down until the noise leveled off and my stomach evened out. I’d forgotten my coffee on the table, but I was not about to go back for it.
I rubbed at my eyes and the foggy creep of fatigue that was dogging my thoughts. I’d have to sleep soon. But not yet. Today I had to try to make headway on suspects for Heim’s death, and time was slipping away for finding a mortal to hand this power over to.
I had no idea who in this town might be the new Heimdall.
It wasn’t like every mortal was made for taking on a god power.
That much I knew. Dad had said there must be a fire in the person. Not necessarily one of anger or aggression, but something he described as sharp—a clarity that the power was drawn to. He said the mortal who was made for the god power was tempered like hard metal. Driven. They knew who they were, and remained true to their nature no matter what life threw at them.
That made sense. I’d seen five Poseidons over the years. All of them were cocksure about their ability to control the sea even before they’d taken on the power. And all of them had done something stupid on vacation here in Ordinary and gotten themselves drowned.
So, yes. There was a similarity in the mortals before they had taken the power, even though one of the Poseidons had been a woman.
Maybe that meant I was looking for someone who carried the same traits as Heim.
I started the Jeep and rolled out into traffic.
What did I know about Heim? He shied away from commitment, off on his boat for weeks at a time, sometimes leaving whale watchers without a ride out, which Pete, one of the other boat captains, always seemed willing to pick up the slack for.
He’d fallen in love with Lila. And he’d broken her heart, saying he needed something different in his life, as if he were looking for a new horizon.
I knew she’d never picked up the pieces of her life in town or her business here. She’d left, and hadn’t returned until now.
I supposed Heim was a loyal friend. He and Chris got along great. When he wasn’t wandering toward the edges of the horizon, Heim seemed happy enough doing his job—fishing and guiding tourists.
Somehow Bertie had railroaded him into judging the Rhubarb Rally, so he had the ability to give to his community. I supposed most people would see him as an easygoing charmer. A bit of a mooch, a drifter.
Who in the town had similar traits?
Too damn many people.
It was a start, though. I’d make a list of things that seemed consistent with Heim’s personality, ask Jean and Roy and Myra to add in anything that came to mind. Then I’d start sorting possible candidates, even if that meant going through all of Ordinary from A to Z.
I sighed and rubbed at my eyes again. I was not looking forward to crunching these numbers and wading through this paperwork. But I’d do it.
No matter how long it took. As long as it didn’t take longer than four days.
Chapter 18
“TOOK YOU long enough.” Jean sat in my chair at my desk, eyes closed, arms crossed over her Venture Bros. T-shirt. The uncomfortable position meant she was trying to get a little shuteye without sinking into a deep sleep. I’d seen her do that ever since she took over the graveyard shift.
“I bring a peace offering.” I dropped the white bag with the maple bar on her lap.
Her mouth curved, but she hadn’t opened her eyes. “You brought me donuts as an apology?”
“One, I don’t owe you an apology. Two, that donut’s not from me.”
She cracked one eye open. “I’ll get to one in a second. Talk to me about two.”
“Your boyfriend gave it to me, on the house, with a wink and a smile.”
“My boyfriend?” She frowned, and finally put it together. “Hogan?” she exclaimed delightedly.
“You have some other guy working in some other bakery who likes you? Where els
e would I be going for pastries? Get out of my chair.”
“I’m not slow, I’m tired.” She dug out the maple bar and stared at it like it was a diamond ring. “Oh.” Her voice wavered. “He remembers.”
“So how long has this been going on between you two?”
“What?”
“Maple bar love-o-grams with hunky Hogan.” I pushed at her until she got out of the chair, and perched on the edge of my desk instead.
“Today.” She stared at the donut with a sort of dreamy sparkle in her eye. “Just. Now.”
I smiled and shook my head. The first, early moments of falling in love were always so sweet. Honest, true. And I knew my sister. When she liked someone she fell fast and all the way, regardless of the consequences.
I just hoped he didn’t break her heart, because he’d have a hard time doing his job after I’d broken both his arms.
“He’s still there now.” I booted up my computer.
“I’ll go by later. When he gets off.”
I pulled up email, clicking on the rally itinerary from Bertie.
I groaned. I would be needed for judging tonight at nine. My stomach, which I’d just gotten settled, roiled at the thought of having to eat rhubarb. Maybe she’d grant me mercy and let me judge non-edible entries.
I committed the list to memory, then moved on to the next email.
Nine o’clock meant I’d have to cancel the dessert with Ryder.
Hell.
“And now we go back to number one,” Jean said. She still hadn’t bitten into the pastry, but was eyeing it fondly, like she wanted to frame it or something.
“Take a picture. Number one who?”
“Number one what,” she corrected. “You do owe me an apology. I’ve been waiting for you all morning.”
She dug out her phone and held it for a selfie, angling the maple bar against her slightly parted lips. She smiled, opened her eyes with feigned innocence, and somehow made the whole thing look dirty.
I wondered if Hogan knew what he was in for.
“I didn’t sleep well. Wanted some strong coffee.”
“You look exhausted. Did you sleep at all?”
“No. I was sort of…distracted.”
“By the murder or by Ryder?”
“Both, I guess. And the power.” Truth all the way, especially with my sister. “I don’t suppose you might get any…hints or feelings about who might be the right person to give the power over to?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. I think…I think I felt that Heim was going to be killed. That was the bad feeling I’d had. But since then, nothing.”
“Do you think if you got close to someone who might be a candidate for power you might pick up on something?”
“I’m a disaster warning system. How is gaining god power a disaster?”
“Poseidon.”
She tipped her head side to side. “Okay, yes. That’s always a disaster. But I can’t narrow down why I get those bad feelings until after the bad thing has happened. I know bad is on the way, but only recognize it after it hits. It’s a useless gift.” She laughed, but it didn’t cover just how uncomfortable and disappointed she was.
“It’s not useless,” I said. “You just need more practice to figure it out. I still don’t have a handle on how I’m supposed to deal with the power transfer.”
“Yeah, but you’ve only had that job for the last year and this is your first time. I’ve lived with this all my life. Plenty of time to practice.” She finally bit into the maple bar, chewing slowly, her eyes unfocussed, though from the pleasure of the donut or displeasure at her abilities, I wasn’t sure.
“Don’t get some idea in your head that you can ignore it,” I said. “I’m relying on you to let me know when you get those gut feelings.”
“All the help it will do. But yes. I’ll let you know if I get the doom twinges.”
I chuckled. “Is that what you’re calling it?”
She smiled, and this time I could tell she meant it. “Dunno. Sounds ominous, right? So let’s hear it. Apologize.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Fine. Sorry it took me so long to get to work today.”
“Forgiven. Why so late?”
I picked up my coffee cup. Stared at it. Empty. Right, I hadn’t brought my coffee. I stood, ambled over to the coffee pot.
“There was a penguin about to get blown out of a cannon, and by the time we jimmied it free and restored it to its natural habitat, I wanted coffee and deep-fried sugar. Just my luck, half of Ordinary had the same idea. I would have been here sooner if Cooper and Ryder hadn’t shown up.”
I poured the last of the coffee into my mug and shoveled sugar into it without measuring. I added flavored cream, figuring a double blast of sugar would count for breakfast and lunch and might keep me awake for an hour or two.
“Cooper and Ryder?” she asked. “Where? When?”
I took a drink. My molars hurt.
Ryder strode through the door. He hesitated a second, then strode across the waiting room. He still had that wicked light in his eyes, that one-corner smile, like he was up to no good and wanted me to know it. Broad shoulders were square in the jacket he wore over flannel, and his heavy boots came down with audible thuds.
He was sexy as hell. My heart raced. My breath caught in my throat. I felt stretched taut, against the power of him, of his gaze.
He pushed past the front counter and stopped right in front of me, so close, I could feel the heat rolling off him, could smell the soap and spice of cologne on his skin mixed deliciously with the cold salt air he’d pulled into the station.
“You wanted to see me, chief?”
Forget coffee. Ryder Bailey was what I craved.
For all my life, my heart said. I opened my mouth to say that and caught myself. How stupid would I sound? He was just here reporting for work. That was all.
“Uh,” I replied, brilliantly.
He exhaled and smiled, and everything in him went loose and relaxed. A dimple appeared by his mouth and I wanted to draw my fingertips over it, over his lips, over the dark stubble on his jaw, down the hard planes of his chest and stomach, and anywhere else that would make him kiss me.
He was just standing too close to me. I couldn’t think.
I took a step back. “Why do you smell like fir trees?”
Okay. Maybe I still couldn’t think.
He rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “I helped Mr. Tippin stack a cord of wood he had delivered yesterday.”
Mr. Tippin lived a few houses down from Ryder. He was also a jinn with a slight case of pyromania.
“Good,” I said. “That was good.”
“Just being neighborly,” he said. “Did you have anything you wanted me to take care of for you today?”
Wild images of him kissing me, tumbling me down onto my bed so I could tear his clothes off, flew through my mind.
“If not,” he went on, “I thought I’d take care of the filing in the record room.”
“Filing,” I repeated, heat creeping up my face as the memory of him standing naked in his living room chose just that moment to come back to me.
Why did he have to be such a good-looking man? And kind? And funny? And the love that I’d never dared ask for?
Jean cleared her throat. Or maybe she was just trying not to laugh at me.
“Filing,” I said. “Sure. Yes. That would be good.”
“Good.” His eyes crinkled in the corners. He was holding back laughter too.
Don’t bite your bottom lip, don’t bite your bottom lip, don’t bite—
He bit his bottom lip, tugged, let it go.
All my bones went a little rubbery.
“Maybe Ryder should go on a ride-along with Myra again,” Jean suggested.
“No.” I walked back to my desk, needing the space between me and that man and his smile and his eyes and his bottom lip. “Filing needs to be done. That’s a good job for the morning.”
“And tonight?�
� he said.
“Tonight?”
“We’re still on for dessert?”
“Oh. Uh…no. I can’t make it.”
The pleasant man in a pleasant mood disappeared. “Really.”
“Bertie just sent my itinerary. I have to judge tonight.”
“Right,” he said. “Judging. I forgot.”
“Another time?” I suggested.
“Sure.” He didn’t look happy about it. “I’ll get to those files now. Holler if you need anything.” He walked back to our file and evidence room.
I rubbed at my eyes and groaned.
“That was some serious public display of affection you had in your eyes,” Jean said.
“Aren’t you supposed to be going home now?”
“And miss all the fireworks? The scintillating conversation? Good,” she mimicked. “That was good.”
I groaned again. “Did I sound like that much of an idiot?”
“Maybe a little more.”
I dropped my hands in my lap. Jean sat at her desk, looking smug.
“Fine. Ryder makes an idiot out of me.”
“I know. You let him in the records room.”
Huh. I tried to remember if there was anything in there that would betray the secrets of Ordinary. Maybe not right out in the open, but if he went digging far enough.
“Well, hell,” I said quietly.
“You stay here,” Jean said. “My brain works fine when I’m around him. I’ll give him something else to do. Check in with Bertie to see if she needs extra help with the rally, maybe.”
I rested my elbows on the desk and lowered my face into my palms. “God,” I said through the muffle of my hands. I was such an idiot.
I didn’t know how long I sat there listening to the screech and bang of the song in my head. Long enough that eventually I heard Jean and Ryder’s footsteps as they walked through the office, Jean keeping up a conversation that I pretended not to hear.
Long enough for them both to leave and shut the door behind them.
“Reed Daughter,” a soft voice said from right next to me.
I jerked, looked up.
Death stood next to my desk. He wore a novelty T-shirt that said ORDINARY TOWN, EXTRAORDINARY FUN, over which he had thrown a Hawaiian shirt featuring palm tree fronds and tiki heads. He was also wearing a slick pair of dark gray slacks and shiny black shoes.