by Cera Daniels
"Safe. Sleep soon." The dog yawned inside her head.
"It seems my second and I have had a miscommunication," Murphy said with another shrug. His eyes belied the casual move, churning with a ferocious anger. "An internal issue I assure you will be remedied."
Shiv shrank into the shadows, but two other thugs grabbed his arms. Would Homicide find anything left of him in the morning, or would he simply disappear without a trace?
"You know what it will take for me to forgive this offense," Klepto said. He turned to face the syndicate boss, who inclined his neck graciously. "Partner."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"We're in?" Zach's lips shaped the question in an irritatingly slow drawl.
If the poor guy wasn't doomed to another full day of rest and observation, Ryan would have called him on it. Slower speech made lip-reading more difficult, not less.
He stifled his annoyance and jerked his chin toward the other side of the hospital bed. "Turn."
Jay flicked another card face-up between Zach's blanket-covered feet.
"We're in, just like that?" Zach asked, tossing a bill onto the stack of cash spread over his shins.
"Just like—you kidding?" Cheap plastic should have complained underneath him as Ryan brought the front legs of his chair to the floor. Ryan had once believed his ability's biggest flaw was the barely controllable hearing. The real curse was this return to a world of indomitable, unrelenting silence. "Shiv's signature was on the guy's contract. Murphy wanted to string him up for planning hits behind his back. At the very least for ruining a shot at some big, easy-money heists."
"Gotta wonder what else Shiv does without Murphy's permission," Jay put in, his fingers smoothly flowing with silent words and letters as he spoke. He tossed a ten into the pot then reached for the foam cup he'd stashed on the heart monitor.
"My thought exactly." Ryan called the bet and frowned as the thick scent of burned, over-roasted coffee assaulted his nose. "We haven't kept close enough eyes on our knife-happy friend. Tonight, Klepto made him an enemy."
"I've always wanted a nemesis." Zach's faint smile rolled the lead weight off the bottom of Ryan's stomach. It came right back with his next words. He punctuated with vigorous sign language this time. "I'm guessing Shiv's not too impressed with your woman, either."
His woman. His Spirit-mate. Ryan set his cards face-down on the tray table and massaged his jaw, wincing at the clawing, itching sensation between his ears. "Amanda's home. She's safe."
Disapproval tightened the corners of his brother's lips. "I guarantee Shiv won't find her alarm system as daunting as you did."
"Don't pick a fight you can't win." A surprising burst of aggression hurtled through Ryan's veins.
Jay twitched a look over him. "Your ears will come back, right?"
"Either I'm healing, or a thousand tiny ants have taken up residence inside my head. Whether they're online by tonight . . . " He shrugged and sent Zach a frown. "I didn't leave her alone."
"Romeo's watching her?" Zach asked.
"And keeping me updated. Her mother's there, too," Ryan said. Hovering in dwindling shadows until his spirit guide had regained consciousness had taken a new level of patience and a little creativity, but Romeo had Amanda and her mother under guard. "Amanda will be with me in the ballroom before Murphy lets Shiv off the hook."
"If you're wrong, and Shiv goes after her sooner, you'll be stuck in the middle of interviews." His brother tossed off the blanket, cash, and cards, moving too fast for Ryan to see the rest of his words.
"No, Z." Ryan stretched out a hand but Jay moved faster, grabbing Zach's shoulder. Ryan pinned Zach with his sternest look. "If you're well enough to sign out, you're on security detail at McLelas Financial, not watching over my girlfriend."
"And there it is, gentlemen," Jay said with a sly grin.
Zach smacked his toes on the bed rail and sent him a grimace. "Damn it, bro! You just cost me an even hundred."
Ryan groaned. "You were betting on my love life?"
Jay's grin widened. Then it vanished, and a grim look passed between his brothers.
Suspicion clamored in his head. "Tell me."
"Shaw Family syndicate's bringing firearms into town. Big ones." Zach nodded toward a small electronic receiver on the table next to his bed.
"That's not playing music, I take it," Ryan said.
"We've been flipping through security channels. He was bored. Frankly, so was I." Guilt flashed across Jay's face as he handed over the black and silver box.
Ryan pushed out of his chair and turned the device over in his hands. Light vibrations tickled his palms as the speaker buzzed, but feeling the sound wasn't the same as hearing it.
"You've had nurses in and out of here all night and you're listening to our bugs?" Ryan asked.
Zach crossed his arms. "It's been pretty quiet, save this."
Ryan handed the radio back to Jay as the pressure in his head intensified and the room dipped in his vision. They'd never let him hear the end of it if he passed out.
He retook his seat in a hurry. "When is the delivery scheduled?"
"Soon," Jay said. "Timeline's not definite. We don't have enough ears in their territory."
"We don't have enough time to put them there. I'm booked on news shows all day. Don't even have time to pick up my own tux." Ryan grimaced.
If another syndicate gained an overwhelming upper hand, their efforts to contain the turf war would be moot. Klepto had to stop the shipment.
"I'll go," Jay said. "Shaw'll have it coming into the bay. Torpedo can do a fly-by over the water while I'm touring the docks."
"Think you can get back in time?" Ryan asked. "You and your owl are supposed to be my eyes tonight."
He rubbed his temples as Jay shrugged. He'd thought their abilities would be enough to protect the civilians at the fundraiser. Amanda had been right to worry.
"I don't know who Cinderella is, but she must not move much," Romeo said with a curious blend of distaste and utter bewilderment.
Ryan swallowed a startled laugh. All at once, his mind grasped for a mental image of Amanda's formal gown. It settled on the daring nightie she'd worn for Klepto. Fancy attire too frou-frou for your discerning doggy tastes?
"Can't fight in a dress."
She won't have to.
"These women chatter more than Torpedo. You owe me."
Ryan laughed aloud, then noticed Jay was watching him expectantly. "You'll have to repeat that. Romeo was complaining about your owl again."
The corner of Jay's mouth kicked up and Ryan paid closer attention to the words he mouthed this time. "I said, if I'm lucky, I'll find a dated manifest that says 'guns and sundry' and have enough to tip off Organized Crime from this one trip. I'll hit our balcony before dinner's plated. No worries."
"Go in armed, and wear a vest." Ryan swallowed a litany of cautions as dread climbed his ribcage like latticework. He hoped to God they could counter the evening's threats with Kevlar.
Ryan personally handled the extra round of staff ID checks as dusk approached, shaking hands and verifying security badges. Nothing was allowed to go wrong tonight. He'd promised Amanda. He was determined to get at least one date with the woman that didn't end in catastrophe.
Still, his hearing held focus like an untuned short wave radio. He couldn't count on his brothers for backup, but an active array of monitoring equipment and a small legion of McLelas Financial security and Relek City police officers stood with him, the same goal in mind: no one would be hurt. If only he could trust the zealot wasn't part of the enforcement team.
The tasteful emerald of Lilah's ball gown caught his peripheral vision and he sent his assistant a smile. Her eyes lit up, green flashing with pride. Hugging the shadows under an archway behind her, a tall, sharply dressed, and oddly familiar man had his gaze fixed on her rump. Ryan lifted an eyebrow as she sidled up to him, her voice frustratingly faint.
"Would you say I spent my bonus well, boss?" she asked with a hal
f-twirl. The mermaid cut of the gown flared out around flat, contoured slippers.
"You look stunning." He smiled and adjusted his glasses on his nose as he nodded over her shoulder. The wallflower looked chagrined to be caught staring. "Your bodyguard's about to swallow his tongue. Is that Isaac?"
"Security chief's orders. Holing me up in the office overnight wasn't enough. I needed a plainclothes date." She sent a small grin over her shoulder, then leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper he had to strain to catch. "Miss Leblanc helped me pick one who could dance."
Ryan's eyebrows jerked upward. "Brennan stuck around?"
Lilah winked. "All night. Don't worry. Your ex didn't corrupt me. Much." The playful words belied the shake in her hands as she smoothed her palms over her hips. "Zach's still under observation? Who's watching you tonight?"
Ryan nodded. He wasn't the only one worried about his brother's extra hospital time. "I'll have plenty of eyes on me." Just none that he trusted implicitly. "I have a good bit of mingling to do, and News 9 will have me posing for pictures all evening—"
"Posing for pictures? So a lunatic can take his time aiming at you?" Lilah's eyes gleamed with renewed humor. "Detective Werner's in the car line. Your itinerary includes dancing, and plenty of it."
Ryan's gut flip-flopped. As much as he liked that idea . . . "Lilah, I won't be able to spot a security threat if I'm dancing."
"We don't want this maniac to know what's up, do we?" She jabbed a tiny finger into his upper arm. "Let those eyes do their job and look out for you. The most important thing tonight is to keep things from looking staged. Low tension, lively party. That's your job. You get out on that floor and look like you're enjoying yourself."
"My job is to help Amanda's precinct recover from its recent attack," Ryan said as he turned away from the last catering station. "Won't be many funds to put toward that goal if the host is hiding on the dance floor instead of personally delivering the charm."
Lilah patted his hand. "Just not too much charm. There'll be a lot of single ladies here and I don't want to deal with the logistics of a catfight." She closed her eyes and drew in a slow breath. "Be a moving target."
Ryan tipped his head to the side. He'd done all he could to ensure the fundraiser's security. But so many things could go wrong. "I'm not his only possible target."
"I didn't mean—Oh, just keep your date close." Her unpainted lips tilted up in one corner and she pivoted toward the jazz band with a crooked finger aimed at her bodyguard. "Eight minutes to camera time. I'll hit one last acoustic check, then do the honors for News 9."
News 9 was already clamoring for a view at the grand entrance, where first the press, then the guests, would descend the second-level staircase. Video cameras were pressed to the frosted glass windows, as if they could see through the translucent panels.
Ryan passed tables prepared with mirrored candle centerpieces and crisp, white linen, skirted the bubbling champagne fountain, and bent his head toward the table of honor where the wives of three recently fallen officers were settling in. A choice aroma of perfect steak and mouth-watering spices teased its way from the double doors of the attached kitchen. He checked in over his earpiece with the security team who'd be posing as wait staff. All clear. Ryan started up the stairs to join Lieutenant Dale. Every reporter and camera technician would have to pass the lieutenant's scrutiny, with an encoded security pass, before they'd be allowed entrance.
"Spiritwalker. Open this door or Cinderella's shoe collection gets it."
Ryan's foot paused on the next step. You're still at Amanda's? Romeo had been complaining about estrogen and beauty products for hours. Unfortunately for his tormented spirit guide, and Amanda's soon to be ex-shoes, the detective didn't have a doggie door. Why didn't you slip out when she left with the driver?
"Her mother locked me in. She believes I'm a pet." Distaste lay heavily on the last word.
Jay can swing by on the way here. Ryan sighed as he reached the top of the stairs. He'd hoped for a reliable pair of ears. Now, not even Romeo would be able to help as the night got underway.
"You look distracted. Is there a problem?" Lieutenant Dale gripped his hand in a firm shake, a small cell phone pressing into Ryan's palm.
"No problem. Ground floor checks out and my crew is ready for action." Ryan slipped the device into his tux pants as he eyed the closed-circuit camera across from the door. "We're monitoring facial recognition from the security office. The zealot won't get in uninvited."
The lieutenant's lips thinned to a faint line. They were working blind. A serial killer could have made it onto the guest list, and they both knew it.
"Don't go pouncing on any of my team. I've got people I trust coming through that door as guests."
"Then they better have passes that check out."
Approval ghosted across Lieutenant Dale's cheekbones. He rubbed his palms over the slick front of his dress uniform. "I know she's supposed to be watching your back, but be alert, McLelas. He can't know she's involved and officially, she hates my guts. Unofficially, if I need her, I'll call on that line."
"She's safe with me." Ryan's breath came a little easier. If his flaky ears missed an alert, Amanda would provide a secondary point of contact. "I'll see that she gets it when you call. If."
"If," he agreed with a lift of one bushy eyebrow.
The lieutenant angled a look toward the stairs and with the other man's mouth obscured, Ryan's ears picked up a low rumbling sound that should have been speech, followed by an airy, feminine tone. He spun to see Lilah approaching the door. Ryan grit his teeth against a blistering curse. His eyes were still doing more listening than his ears.
Lilah smiled. "In that case, let's get this party started."
In the moments between her words and the flashbulb of the first camera, Ryan felt the impenetrable mask of seasoned geniality click into place behind his fake lenses. As people poured through the doorway and faces blended together in moments, he became the man both public and press expected—until a series of low whistles crept over his earpiece and he caught sight of the goddess waltzing through their security checkpoint.
Ryan's jaw went slack.
Strapless. Mouthwateringly tempting sapphire and crystal-accentuated cleavage. Ice blue and cream chiffon embracing and shaping a curvy waist, hips, and endless legs like a smooth waterfall, the artful wave cresting around her toes.
Cinderella? The woman was Aphrodite. Venus.
His.
"Thank you for sending the Mustang," said the only pair of lips he didn't need to watch to hear.
Deep raspberry and ripe for tasting.
Ryan closed the gap between their bodies as blue, uncertain eyes rimmed with a smoky hint of shadow met his, then flicked toward the excessive amount of cameras lining the stairs. The media. Amanda hadn't wanted to kiss him during their last public date, and if she still had reservations about an audience, he was in for a very long, very uncomfortable night. Maybe if he begged . . . A flash of color drew his eyes back to her ankles, the evening gown parting around her feet.
Candy blue, fuck-me heels.
Lust besieged his senses. "I hope you can dance in those," he said in a dark rasp that sounded more like Klepto than his natural voice. Not good.
"My eyes are up here."
"Oh, believe me, I know."
Amanda's lips twitched with amusement. She wrapped an elegant, lace-covered hand around his tux sleeve. "Are you stuck at the door, or do I get to keep you?"
"Yes." Ryan cleared his throat, wrestling for strictly-business thoughts over the tsunami of desire. "There are some people I'd like you to meet downstairs."
Ryan sucked in a breath of chocolate and caramel heaven as he led her to the first group of mingling socialites. Trying to focus on anything but the chiffon waves that lapped against the leg of his pants left him staring at her shoes. Perfect siblings to the reds she'd worn the night before, when she'd been wearing little else. Cameras or no cameras, killer or no killer, the on
ly question left for the evening was how long he had before his restraint snapped.
"I know the department is honored to have your support." A genuine smile won out over Amanda's helpless unease over the evening ahead as a charming elderly gentleman stooped over her hand with a kiss.
Beads of sweat had itched at the base of her spine for the past hour, an uncomfortable foreboding and warning sign she'd counted on back when she'd had a badge. A gun. A partner to back her up. A department she could trust. A mind that hadn't been blown by a talking dog and his unknown entity of a master. Dale was right to keep her on the outside. She wasn't sure how Romeo had helped her spot the sniper, but the experience didn't inspire much trust in her own senses. Everything was off-kilter. Her muscles and nervous system were edgy, her instincts unsettled instead of focused on protecting a cavalier businessman who acted like he'd never heard the word "danger".
Ryan's arm slipped around her waist, possessive, solid, reassuring as he tucked her against his side. "How is your greenhouse this winter, Val?" he asked.
Amanda's eyes tracked the balcony level over the older man's shoulder, hunting for possible threats as he answered, "Martha has roses." His hands went up in playful exasperation. "Don't ask me how she does it, but they're blooming brighter and bigger than ever this year."
"Your wife has a gift." Ryan leaned around Amanda with a low whisper. "Speaking of gifts, there may be something sweet by your place setting. I won't tell her if you don't."
The man let out a thunderous laugh and clapped Ryan on the shoulder. "Dinners at McLelas Financial are always a treat. I knew when you took over for your father my tea would be in capable hands."
They were alone in a sea of people when Ryan pressed his clean-shaven jaw to one of her temples. He tipped his head down, the ends of his burnished copper ponytail curving in an almost proprietary fashion over her unscarred shoulder. "Mr. Roth shares my soft spot for the occasional sugar cube."