by Renee George
“Woman,” he said, very caveman-like. His fingers wound up my neck and twined into my hair. My lips parted for him, and I took his breath inside me as our mouths melded into a kiss that shot pleasure daggers to my groin.
I didn’t even notice he’d carried me to his bedroom until he threw me down on the bed. “This is all a little sudden,” I said, stripping my tank top over my head.
“I don’t know,” Ford said. “I think a couple of decades doesn’t make for sudden.”
He pulled his shirt off, his broad chest peppered with dark hair, and his cut-from-steel abs had grooves deep enough to scale.
“It should be illegal for you to wear a shirt.” I stared as his pecs danced when he crawled up the bed to me. I let out an unsteady breath. “Like go-to-jail do-not-pass-go kind of illegal.”
“You have too many clothes on.” He unbuttoned my pants and slid them down my thighs. “That’s better.”
He spread my legs, his thumbs tracing inner thigh. Electricity crackled along my skin.
“Is that going to be a problem?” he asked.
“Uhm…” Maybe. “Nope. I’ve got it under control.” I willed my magic to stop cock-blocking me. Ford’s hair raised on his arms and chest as more energy crackled. “I don’t want to electrocute you. We should probably stop.”
“Uh-uh.” He unbuttoned his jeans. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Thank the Goddess.” I did not want him to stop.
Ford’s body stilled. “Don’t, Haze.”
“Why?”
“How bad do you want to have sex right now?”
My whole body vibrated with lust and desire. “Pretty freaking bad.”
“Me too.”
“Then what’s the problem?” I rubbed myself against him. “I want you. You want me.”
“Because of the mating frenzy.”
I leaned back to gauge his expression. “What?”
He shook his head. “You really don’t know much about Shifters.”
“I think we’ve established that already.”
“The mating frenzy happens as a byproduct of the mating scent. If we take this further, I’m not sure I have the willpower not to take it all the way.”
“All the way…”
“To the mating bite, which will seal our fate forever.”
“You mean…” I got the gist, but I wanted him to spell it out.
“It means I’ll never let you go, Hazel. If you push me, and we mate, you’ll have to give up your life outside our world. Or I’ll have to leave my life to follow you.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Yes.” He got up and put on his clothes. It made me want to shoot him. Unhappily, I followed his lead.
When we were back in the kitchen, I wrapped my arms as far around his waist as I could, and I held him tight. “I have never stopped thinking about you, Ford. I’ve turned down all the men who ever asked me out because they weren’t you. I threw myself into my work, believing that the job would be enough for me. I don’t remember our kiss, and I’m sorry it changed you into something you didn’t want to be, but for me, I hadn’t needed some biological imperative to tell me that you were the boy I wanted to love. I had feelings for you long before you started smelling like cinnamon toast.”
He tried to pull away, but I buried my face in his chest.
“We don’t have to hash this out right now, but I need you to stop being mad at me. Especially, since I didn’t know that you had this…reaction to me.”
He stroked my hair, melting me. “You make mating sound like an allergy.”
I chuckled. “I couldn’t stand watching you with Greta. Don’t you see?” I tilted my head back again to look at him. “I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to cast a spell to make all her hair fall out.” I didn’t mention that the only reason I didn’t cast the spell on Greta was because I sucked. The first and only time I’d practiced the spell, I’d aimed at my pee-my-pants dolly, but the magic went sideways, and poor Tizzy ended up bald for a month. Bald is not a good look for flying squirrel. “I never meant to hurt you, Ford.”
Which meant, I really didn’t know much about Shifters. Had I been so self-absorbed, that I made my relationship with Lily all about me? I’d never even asked her about mating. Is that why she was still single? My heart ached for her.
“I’m not mad at you, Haze.”
His blue eyes blinked down at me. “Vanilla and rum, huh?”
“You’ve really never even dated anyone?”
“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to date.”
“What about sex?”
I shook my head. “Not with someone else,” I smirked. I might have been a virgin, but I wasn’t asexual. “Masturbation can take off the edge.”
He laughed. “You’re not kidding.”
“You?”
“Not with someone else,” he said. “Not since that night.”
“Wow, that’s some serious crap.”
“Masturbation can take the edge off.”
Even though he was being cute by throwing my words back at me, a vision of him naked and holding himself flashed into my brain. My lady bits clenched. My stomach was pressed against his groin, and I felt the log in his jeans grow exponentially.
“Now you smell like vanilla, rum, and sex.” He disengaged from me and my throbby lady-morsels screamed, Nooooooo! “Which means, holding you is not a good plan. Let’s focus on the case. When it’s over, we can revisit this conversation.”
Goddess, why did he have to be so practical? “You’re right.” I turned myself toward the center island because my nipples were as hard as his Johnson and looking at him only made it worse. “The case. What do you have?”
He opened a manila folder with newspaper clippings dating back for ten years. “Over the past two decades, there has been some strange things going on in Paradise.”
When I raised my brow, he added, “Stranger than usual.”
“These articles are mostly about natural disasters. Tornadoes, severe lightning storms, hail…”
“The size of softballs.” My interest peaked. “That is unusual.” I spread the clipping out, organizing the stories by year. The disasters seemed to happen in a pattern. Initially, the storms were not so bad, but it appeared as if they had been getting progressively more devastating over the past ten years. “It looks like there is a break between September and December, then there are freak weather patterns every three months. January. March. June.” I remembered how rough the town looked when I drove in. “Was there a recent storm?”
“A high wind situation blew through town. It knocked a bunch of shingles off roofs, ruined a lot of store signs, and turned over a few trailers.”
In one of the clippings, there was a picture of a collapsed house. The headline read, “Local Family Killed By Storm.” I used my phone to magnify the image for a better look and noticed someone had scratched an H on the door. “There,” I said, pointing to the letter.
“I see it.” Ford scratched his beard.
I moaned.
He smiled.
“Stop that.” I shook off the growing lusty fog. “I saw that same letter at Boyd’s house scratched into his dresser, and again, I saw it scratched into the dash on Danny’s car.”
“What do you think it means?”
“At first, I thought it might be an initial or the start of a word that Danny and Boyd had managed to leave as a clue to their killer, but now I’m not sure. It seems less likely the victims drew the letter and more possible it was left by the murderer. Do you think it’s a calling card?”
“Like a serial killer?”
“In almost every single one of these weather events, someone was injured or died. What if it wasn’t an act of Goddess and more an act of a maniac?”
“Who has figured out how to control the weather?” His expression was incredulous.
“More likely, the killer or killers are crafting a magic powerful enough to disrupt the weather.”
> “I don’t know, Haze. Doesn’t the leader of the witches frown on that kind of sorcery? I can’t believe your Babaloo wouldn’t intervene. I know how swiftly she came down on your dad.”
“Baba Yaga.” I winced. “She’s the witch in charge not the bear from the Jungle Book.”
He smiled. “I love that story.”
“Figures.” I smiled back. “You’re right, though. Baba Yaga wouldn’t let this kind of bad magic go without intervening. I just have a gut feeling.” And my gut rarely failed me.
“Maybe they are shielding somehow.”
“I don’t know how, but honestly, I didn’t do well in witch school, and I haven’t really studied any witchcraft since I left town.”
Ford’s phone rang. “It’s the station. I have to take this.” He answered. “Officer Baylor.” His brow pinched, creating deep frown lines. “I understand. I’ll be right out.” He hung up.
“What is it?”
“There’s another body.”
“Where?”
He rubbed the crease between his eyes. “Junkyard Dog.”
“Oh, crap.”
“Yep,” he said. “You want to come along?”
“Hellz yes.”
Chapter Twelve
ON THE DRIVE TO THE JUNKYARD, I saw I had two missed calls from Lily. I must have turned off the ringer by accident. In a way, it was a relief. I hadn’t had to choose whether to answer her or not.
“You should call her,” Ford said as if reading my mind.
“Thank you, Dr. Phil.”
He shrugged. “Or not.”
I put my phone away. My head wanted to forgive Lily, but my heart wasn’t ready. My father being in town was an unexpected blow. He killed my mom. He wiped her from the face of the earth. This is something I’d want to freaking know about. “Did you know my dad was back?”
“Yes.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “My father mentioned it.”
The gravel road out to Junkyard Dog was hazy with dust and debris. Two official police cars, along with a silver sedan, a blue full-sized pick-up, and a green and yellow compact truck. My heart froze a beat. “Oh no.” I unsnapped my seatbelt as Ford parked. “No, no, no.”
“What is it, Haze?”
“That’s Lily’s truck.” I yanked on the handle and threw my body at the door to open it. “That’s Lily’s,” I said again. I could hear Ford telling me to wait, but I couldn’t. What if the dead person was… I brushed the awful thought from my head as I sprinted for the metal building where a small crowd had gathered.
Chief Nichols’ eyes widened at my speedy approach. He held his hand up in the universal sign for halt. I brushed past him without slowing down. Inside, the overwhelming scent of rot and decay nearly sent me to my knees. I gagged at the stench but kept going. Where Danny’s Chevelle had been on the lift, now there was something that looked like a bloated bag of blood. There wasn’t enough light for me to tell for sure.
I scanned the room for any sign of Lily. Something to tell me that she wasn’t involved. Red fur wrapped around my neck as Tizzy unexpectedly flew in for a landing on my shoulder.
“I can’t find Lily. Is that…” I pointed to the dripping object on the lift. “Could it be?”
“No,” Tizzy said. “Lily got a call to come here, and that was already up there.” She rubbed her cheek against mine as if for her own comfort, which meant she found the scene as disturbing as I did. “Apparently it’s a guy named Dennis Mitchell.”
“The detective in charge of Danny’s case.”
“If you say so, Haze.”
Ten kinds of relief flooded me. It was too bad for Dennis Mitchell. No one deserved to end up like that, but I was more grateful than words that it wasn’t my best friend. “Did you ride with Lily?”
“Yes. She tried to call you.”
Guilt pinched me. “My ringer was off.”
“Uh huh.” She whacked me in the side of the face with her bushy tail. “Lily and I got here half an hour ago. She was talking to that asshole Frank, and I came in here for a closer look. When I went back out to find her, she was gone.”
“And Frank?”
“Him too.”
I took my phone out and dialed her number. Straight to voicemail. I had two voicemails from her, so I dialed my messages next.
Message One: Hey, Haze. This is Lily. Duh. Right. You know that already. Anyhow. Got a call from the Dick Knuckles. He’s asked me to come out to Junkyard Dog. Not sure why, but I wanted you to know since Tiz is coming with me.
Message Two: Hey. It’s me again. Her voice was tight as she continued. Dennis Mitchell is dead. Someone said I threatened him for bungling Danny’s case. Dear Goddess, Haze. I’m a suspect. I heard a man say, Can I talk to you a minute? Then Lily said, Okay, Haze. I’ve got to go. Call me.
My guilt compounded. “I need to find Lily.”
“I’m sure she’s around her somewhere, Haze,” Tizzy said, but she didn’t sound convinced.
“Mizzzzzzz Kinsey,” Nichols said as he walked up behind me. “This is not the Daniel Mason case, so I’ll ask you to quit contaminating my crime scene.”
Clayton Driver was right behind him, his arms crossed over his chest.
I pushed past him. “Where’s Danny’s car?”
“Wha—I don’t know what you mean?” Driver pretended ignorance.
“When did you discover the—” I waved at the thing in the air.
“I’m the only one officially allowed to ask questions around her, young lady.”
“Fine,” I said. “Don’t help me.” I pushed past both men.
I blanked on a spell so threw out:
“Double bubble. Show me trouble.
Show me what Mitchell could see.
Point to the clues, so mote it be.”
Several spots began to glow for me. I walked to the first. A puddle a tarry liquid, to dark for blood, was pooled near the victim. The second spot behind the lift and near the acetylene torch there was an H scratched into the concrete floor, but like a small pimple on a friend’s face, I wouldn’t have noticed it if the spell hadn’t pointed it out.
I knelt next to it and traced the symbol with my finger. “What the heck are you?”
“That’s a hagalaz.” Tanya Geller stood over me, peering down at the mark.
“A what-a-laz?”
“It’s a rune of disruption.” She squinched her perky nose. “It’s Witchcraft 101, Hazel.”
“I flunked that class.” I stood up and dusted my hand on my pants. “I’ve seen the same mark in relation to Danny Mason and Boyd Decker. I think having it show up again is more than a coincidence.”
“It’s usually half of a spell. The rune is rarely used alone.”
Under the acetylene torch machine, something grew so bright I couldn’t ignore it. I reached under the welder and pulled out a sphere with many points coming out of it. It looked like an ice crystal, but I was certain it was made of glass. The prism in Danny’s car, the faceted glass ball in Boyd’s room, and now this star-like ornament.
“Looks like a tree ornament,” Tanya said.
It didn’t feel like magic, but neither did the rune. It should, right?
Clayton Driver grabbed me by the forearm and leaned in close. “If you want your little friend to survive the night, you’ll back off, Miss FBI.”
I staggered sideways, eyes wide in disgust and disbelief. “Where’s Lily?”
In the next second, Ford was next to me and glaring at Driver.
He raised his eyebrow and chuckled. “Why, I have no idea what you’re talking about?”
“What are you doing here, Baylor? It’s your day off,” Nichols said. “And what are you doing here with Kinsey?”
“Leta Givens called me, Chief. I figured you’d want some extra help working the scene.”
I remembered Givens. She was the desk officer at the station. So, the chief hadn’t called Ford. While the chief was distracted with Ford, I took matters into my own hands.
&
nbsp; “Show me where you last saw her, Tiz.”
The squirrel hopped off my shoulder and raced for the exit. I followed at a brisk pace after exchanging a look with Ford.
“Wait a minute, Mizzzzzzzz Kinsey,” Chief Nichols said.
I snapped my fingers at him, a jolt of electricity flaring from my fingertips. “It’s is Special Agent Kinsey, Dick Knuckles. And I’ll thank you to remember that next time.”
Ford stepped in front of him, blocking the Nichols view of me as I head out. I heard him say something along the lines of, “Can I get a word with you, Chief?” The menace in the brilliant bear’s tone came across loud and clear.
With my obstacle out of the way, I hurried to catch up to my familiar.
Chapter Thirteen
TIZZY LEAPED IN THE AIR TO GET MY attention where she’d stopped near a row of stacked smashed cars. When I got close enough, she said, “They were chatting right here.”
I let my fear form a spell.
“Goddess don’t let this be the end.
Show me the path to find my friend.
Protect her and keep her safe for me.
This is my prayer, so mote it be.”
Footsteps lit up a path that led down the row.
“What’s happening, Haze? Did it work?”
“Yes,” I said, concentrating on following the glowing marks.
“Really?” She took two giant leaps toward me and clambered up my clothes until she was in her favorite spot. “I don’t see anything? Are you sure it’s working? I’ve heard stress can make you delusional.”
“Stop talking, Tiz.” The path continued on past the walls of dead cars to the back fence. There was an opening in the chain link that was haphazardly covered with a piece of wood. The steps were scattered, and I saw the glowing outline of a body being dragged through. “Oh, Goddess.”
“What? What!”
“I think Lily is unconscious.”
“Are you sure you’re not unconscious?” she chattered nervously in my ear. Something she did when her anxiety levels rose. “I want to believe you, Haze, but you were never much good a spell work. I still have a few places where my fur doesn’t grow well to prove it.”