by AE Jones
I set my cup on the table, the coffee churning in my stomach. “I know you are. If anything happened to Dalton you’d tell me.”
Chapter 6
Someone was knocking. I squinted at my bedside clock. Two in the morning, and I had a visitor. Was I destined to never sleep a full night again?
I reached behind my headboard, grabbed Stanley, and stalked to the door. I peeked through the peephole, and my heart went pitter-pat while I flipped Stanley’s safety on and opened the door.
“Hello.”
Griffin grinned. “Hello, beautiful.”
I looked down at my tank top and boxer shorts. “You must be suffering from jet lag.”
Griffin walked into my apartment, shut the door, and locked it. He stepped toward me. I stepped back away from him. His green eyes held a mischievous glint, and even in rumpled clothes he was ridiculously handsome. For once his brown hair wasn’t tied back in a queue. Instead it hung loose, almost reaching his shoulders.
“Did you come straight from the airport?”
His mouth curved up even more. “Yes. I had to see you.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“I tried. It went right to voicemail.”
I shrugged. “It probably needs to be charged.”
“If I had a key, we wouldn’t have this problem. I would have crawled into bed, and we would be snuggling right now.”
“If you had tried to crawl in bed with me while I was sleeping, I would have shot you.”
He chuckled. “I won’t take it personally.”
“At least when Booger lived here, I felt like he watched my back. He was the best watch-cat.”
“Because he was a shifter, of course.”
“Minor detail. Maybe I’ll ask him to move back in with me.”
Griffin’s eyes flamed amber. “I don’t think so. Would you consider putting Stanley down so I can kiss you?”
I sighed for effect. “I guess so.” I set the gun on the hall table.
He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips but ducked away before I could latch onto him.
“I thought you were here for a kiss.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Didn’t we just do that?” He pulled off his coat and hung it on the rack by the door. “How’s your case going?”
Apparently he was staying for a while. “It’s still early. Not much has happened since you called. How was your trip?”
“It went well. I think relations between the US and European shifter nations were improved by the summit.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “Relations, huh? What type of relations?”
His eyes heated, and he took a step closer. “The boring kind. Business relationships. But it’ll help make our pack stronger if we can form treaties with other packs.”
“That’s what makes you a good leader,” I said. “You’re always looking out for your people.” I ran my palm down his shirt buttons.
He grabbed me and pulled me against his chest. “God, I missed you.”
He kissed my eyelids, which had become his normal way of greeting me, and then his lips roamed along my jawline, until he rested his nose in the crook of my neck for a few seconds.
I smiled and sank my fingers into his hair. “It’s been a long trip. I think you need a shower.”
“Only if you help me scrub my back.”
“What a tired pick-up line that is. Next you’ll be wanting to show me your etchings.”
He growled and nibbled where my neck met my shoulder.
I groaned. “Not fair. You’re cheating.”
He laced his fingers with mine and pulled me toward the bathroom. “I’m not cheating. I’m making love to you.”
“Is that what you call it?”
He pushed me up against the bathroom wall and ground his hips into my belly.
“Okay. You win. Let’s get you clean, Mufasa.”
“I should have never shown you my animal self.” He nibbled my chin.
I ran my hands up his back, pulling his shirt up over his head. “You didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
He let me go long enough to turn on the shower and strip.
I stared at him appreciatively. “You are one fine specimen.”
He stepped into the shower, and I yelped when he yanked me inside. The warm water quickly soaked through my tank and boxers, and he smirked at me before lowering his lips to mine.
* * *
I woke to warm arms around my waist, and I snuggled back against Griffin’s chest. He was normally a hotbox. I wasn’t sure if it was his shifter nature or just him, but I appreciated it, since Cleveland springs were damp and cold. After we played in the shower for a while, we had finally tumbled into bed, played some more, and then fallen asleep.
I turned in his arms, and he smiled at me, his green eyes drinking me in.
“Can we stay in bed all day?” he asked.
“I want to, but I’m working that case.”
Griffin’s hands drifted lower. “I don’t have to tell you to be careful, right?”
“Of course not. I’m the new-and-improved Kyle, remember?” I placed my hand over my heart. “I no longer try to do everything on my own and I tell my team—”
“And me.”
“…and you…when I’m in trouble.”
“Good girl.”
He squeezed my bum, and I lost the ability to think for a bit. When we finished our morning calisthenics, I glanced at my alarm. 8:00 am. Crap! The new-and-improved Kyle was running late.
I kissed him on the nose and climbed out of bed, pulled on my fuzzy robe, and stumbled into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. The dark liquid flowed into the carafe, and I took a deep whiff as the smell of java filled the air. This was one of my favorite times of day. The quiet time right before I had to jump into the thick of things.
Except my quiet time suddenly ended with pounding on my door. When the hell had I become so popular? As a general rule I was antisocial, for God’s sake.
I opened the door. “Morning, Mish.”
“I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour.”
“My phone’s dead, and I forgot to charge it.” I padded into the kitchen, poured myself a cup of coffee, and sat at the table.
Misha helped himself before sitting across from me. “You’re normally at work by now.”
I shrugged. “You said it yourself last night. I was tired.”
Just as I finished with my flimsy excuse, Griffin came waltzing into the kitchen with his pants on—thank goodness—but his shirt hanging open.
“Good to see you again, Griffin.” Misha grinned. “When did you get back in town?”
“Late last night.”
Misha slugged me lightly in the shoulder. “So someone else got lucky.”
“Misha!”
“Kyle! I don’t get it. Why you’re so hung up about sex?” He looked at Griffin. “We were talking about the two of you yesterday.”
“Really?”
“No worries, my friend. She told me you are good in bed.”
Griffin’s eyebrows rose. “Did she?”
My forehead clunked on the table. “Why are you here, Misha?”
“The Captain called and wants us to meet him at the PD at nine this morning. Since I couldn’t get ahold of you, I came to pick you up.”
“Let me get dressed.” I made the mistake of glancing at Griffin, who winked at me. I ignored him, instead pointing my finger at Misha. “No sex questions while I’m gone.”
Misha’s lip actually stuck out in a pout.
“I mean it. If I hear any sex talk while I’m getting ready, I’ll never bring you pastries again. Ever.”
* * *
Misha pulled into the lot of the main Cleveland PD precinct and parked the van. “Jean Luc and Talia should be here any minute.”
“Did Doc have a chance to review the blood and autopsy results?”
“She’s running a bunch of tests on the blood and wants us to stop at the lab later
for a chat. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary with the autopsy results. Carl’s neck was broken after sufficient pressure was applied. The coroner assumed actual hands did the breaking, although, from David’s description, I’d say Carl was killed telekinetically.”
I stared at him for a moment, wondering if I should ask the question that had bubbled to the surface of my consciousness.
“What is it, little one?”
“Could you do the same thing with your telekinesis?”
He frowned for a second before responding. “I guess it’s possible, although I have never hurt anyone using my power. I seldom use it, and when I do, it’s for defense.”
“Don’t you want to use your power more?” I asked.
His eyes widened.
I held up my hands. “Not to hurt anyone. I mean don’t you want to see what your powers could do?”
He shrugged. “I have seen what the quest for power can do to supes and norms. I’ve never felt the need to fixate on my abilities.”
“But what if you’re meant to use your powers to help people?”
His gaze narrowed on me. “Somehow I think we’re no longer talking about me.”
I banged my head against the seat. I was being psychoanalyzed by a Shamat demon. “I hate it when you get all intuitive on me.”
He chuckled. “I do have it in me, you know.”
“I know.”
He waited in silence for me to continue.
“I used to wonder all the time why I had my ability. When I was young, it was more a curse than a gift. But then I met Nicholas, and he showed me supes exist, and I came to the conclusion that what I could do made sense in a freaky, kismet kind of way.”
“Go on.”
“But then last year, when my power changed and went from simply manipulating a memory to absorbing it as well, it scared the hell out of me. And now with the Key invading my brain and kicking my ass whenever it wants to send a message, I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to self-combust at some point.”
Misha scowled. “We’ll figure out what all this means, Kyle. There has to be a reason why you’re now the keeper. Maybe the prophecy can help explain it. Has Father Brown been able to translate any more of it?”
“No. Father’s been on a sabbatical in Greece. He’s supposed to be coming home any day now. Hopefully he’ll have something new to share with us.”
Misha patted my knee. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”
I rested my hand on his. “I know.” Although I wasn’t convinced any of us could control the Key. I sure hadn’t figured out how.
Chapter 7
A red vintage Mustang skidded to a stop in front of me and Misha as we headed into the precinct. Talia rolled down the driver’s window and grinned while Jean Luc climbed out of the car.
“Since it’s almost nine, I’ll go find a spot and meet you there.”
She zoomed away, and I gave Jean Luc a deliberate, wide-eyed look. “Talia drove?”
“It is her car,” he growled.
Misha chuckled.
“And?” I pushed.
“And she will not let me drive it.”
Misha’s chuckle morphed into a full belly laugh.
We made our way into the front reception area, where the desk sergeant buzzed the door open and directed us down the hall to the Captain’s office. The Captain’s assistant greeted us and then led us into an interrogation room to wait, he said, until the Captain finished his meeting.
Five minutes later, Talia opened the door and joined us.
I shrugged. “We could have waited for you.”
“It’s okay. I just careened into a man in the hall. But it was worth it. He was one fine-looking human.”
Jean Luc frowned, and Talia gave him a hip bump. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous.”
“Isn’t the honeymoon stage over with you two yet?”
After ten minutes of waiting and not discussing anything too relevant, since we were in an interrogation room and the walls had ears, my antsy came to the forefront. Morrison said we needed to be there at nine sharp, and now we were twiddling our appendages.
I stretched and walked around the table to the mirror, where I stared at my reflection. Maybe I should let my short hair grow out? Change the color again? It hadn’t been blue for a while, and blue looked good with my gray eyes.
The longer I stared in the mirror, the more my skin tingled. Either someone was watching us, or my usual paranoia had kicked in. I winked at the mirror. If someone was watching, I wanted them to know I was on to them.
A minute later, Morrison came into the room. Coincidence?
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “Have we learned anything new?”
I smiled. “Before we get started, why don’t you invite whoever’s watching us to come in too so we can get this party started?”
He nodded at the mirror and then walked to a switch on the far wall and flipped it on. “No one can hear us now.” He rubbed his hands together and beamed at us like a proud parent. “I was able to pull some strings and bring in someone from the Feds who knows about the supernatural and will help us hide it as best he can. Added bonus is, he used to work for me, so he knows Cleveland, too.”
Oh, God.
The door opened behind me, and I turned slowly, knowing, but not wanting to believe, who would be standing there.
I locked onto his face and my vision narrowed, black closing in until I was staring down a long tunnel. And at the end of the tunnel was Dalton.
He studied me while I stared right back at him. He was still lean, and his dark brown hair was shorter than I remembered. Maybe it was a regulation Fed haircut.
And, of course, front and center were his iridescent turquoise eyes. But they were different. They lacked warmth and recognition. They were the eyes of a stranger. The eyes of a cop who was busy assessing who he was dealing with. Eyes that took in every angle so he could accomplish whatever was needed to get the job done.
I had wanted so much to see him again. But not like this.
I took a slow, deep breath to stop the tunnel vision from closing in on me completely. Not now. You can’t lose it now.
After a moment, he turned to the rest of the group and gave them a once-over. Both Misha and Jean Luc pushed their chairs back with loud scrapes and got to their feet. Talia watched their reactions and got up as well, obviously sensing something was wrong, but since she’d never met Dalton, she was clueless about what a cluster this was.
Morrison clapped Dalton on the shoulder and grinned. Of course he had no idea we all knew Dalton, since I’d also changed Morrison’s memories relating to the Key case. The case that had almost cost Dalton his sanity. And was about to make me lose mine.
“This is Special Agent Joe Dalton. He used to be my media relations contact for the department and helped keep the press from finding out about some sticky cases involving the supernatural. He’ll be working with you on the case. Joe, let me introduce you to the team.”
Talia’s eyes widened, and she gaped at me. I looked away from her to keep from crying, laughing—hell, I didn’t know which.
Morrison gestured. “Jean Luc Delacroix and Misha Sokolov.”
He shook their hands. “Gentlemen.”
The sound of his voice sent my memories into overdrive. The deep tones reverberated along my spinal column, waking up my nerve endings.
“Talia Walker and Kyle McKinley.”
“We’ve met.”
I flinched. He remembered me? But he offered his hand to Talia.
“Sorry about almost flattening you in the hall.”
She glanced at me before shaking his hand. “No worries. We both should’ve been watching where we were going.”
He nodded and then turned to me with his hand outstretched. The last thing I wanted to do was touch him. His eyes narrowed on me the longer I paused, so I grasped his hand and then dropped it quickly. Too quickly, as if his touch burned me. But that wasn’t the
case. There had been no heat between us.
Dalton scanned the group. “If the Captain hasn’t already told you, the FBI has jurisdiction in this case now. Because of the supernatural angle, the Captain was right to call me in on it. But I can’t promise to cover up everything. A man died, and the government will be watching closely to make sure I handle things the right way.”
Jean Luc answered. “Of course.”
“The Captain has filled me in on the museum incident.” He looked at me again. “You had a run-in with the perp and ended up in the lagoon?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed. “Wasn’t expecting to deal with telekinetic powers.”
Dalton frowned. “I wanted to talk to the other witness, but you somehow changed his memory?”
“I was able to change it with my thrall,” Jean Luc replied.
I barely stopped my mouth from dropping open at the lie.
Dalton focused on Jean Luc like he was a specimen under a microscope. “What are you?”
His tone made me grind my teeth. “Just to clue you in on supernatural etiquette, that’s a rude question.”
He frowned. “We have a murder to solve. Etiquette is not a top priority.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but Jean Luc looked at me and gave his head a small shake.
“I am vampire.”
“And what is your thrall?”
“Some vampires have the ability to make suggestions to humans, and they follow them.”
“And you used your thrall to make the security guard forget?”
“Yes.”
Except Jean Luc was leaving out an important piece of information. Namely his thrall only worked on humans he’d bitten. I struggled for a breath. The lies had begun. Who would be the keeper of these lies? ’Cause at some point they always had a way of biting you in the ass.
“And you made him forget because you wanted to cover up the supernatural?” Dalton’s mouth flattened as if he had eaten something bitter.
“Didn’t you do the same thing—cover up the supernatural—when you worked here?” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to defend our actions to Dalton, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
Before Dalton could answer, Jean Luc continued, “Yes, we wanted David to forget, but we also did it to protect him.”