by Anna Rainn
“Sit,” Nick commanded, his hand touching mine, pulling me gently. Something about his tone made me obey.
“Where did you work together?” Chase was taking the lead now.
“At the franchise coffee shop in the commercial district. It was a bit less than two years ago. I left work and started Black and Foam after that.”
“But you started Black and Foam about a year ago, not two, right?” Nick asked, pulling on the knowledge he had from our pillow talk. So he remembered everything, even the little bits. I would’ve been happy to know he recalled even the boring work chatter I spilled on his chest a year ago if I wasn’t replaying my last encounter with Bianca in my head.
“Bianca left work two years ago. I stayed for one more year, then I too left and started my own business.” Should I tell them? Was it relevant? “She was fired,” I added, chewing on one thumb nail.
“Why was that? I am sure you would know something about the reason.” Chase asked.
“Because she had ummm relations during work hours.”
“Relations?” Nick inquired.
“Sex. In the employee bathroom. With clients. Okay?” I tipped my espresso cup back, taking momentary refuge in the rich taste and the tinge of wood and spice of the Sumatra.
“And how did the managers know about this? Cameras?” Chase asked.
“No. The cameras only showed the register and the back desk, not the bathrooms.” I paused, collecting myself, then I continued, better to get it over with; they are the police, and they will find out anyway. “I reported her.”
Nick whistled, reclining his insanely ripped body in the wooden café chair. “You got her fired,” he said, amused.
I curled a stray strand of hair behind my ear, pulled at my sleeve, then met his eye. I knew mine were wet with unshed tears. “I did. Now, I want to see her, okay?”
His expression softened, I saw his hand move to take mine, but then he thought better of it. “I’m sorry, Marissa.”
Bianca was dead. I knew it all along. Owen Chase introduced himself as a homicide detective, didn’t he?
“She didn’t make it,” Nick said, his hand tense on the table, inches away from mine.
Chase was less sympathy and more business. “Did you stay in touch with Bianca after this incident?” he asked.
“No.”
“Did you make up? Did you talk about what happened?”
“No, the last time I saw her was the day she got fired.” She had hurled her coffee at me in the middle of the café. Lucky for me, her latte had cooled down during her talk with the manager. There was pain, but no burns.
“Did she hold a grudge against you?” Nick asked.
“No,” I answered automatically, then thinking better of it, “maybe, I don’t know.”
“Why do you think she was here tonight?” he asked.
“I honestly don’t know. Could it have been a coincidence?”
Nick shook his head. Chase stayed passive, a poker face with no sign of life but the sharpness in his hazel eyes.
“Do you think Bianca could have meant you harm Miss Cooper?” Chase asked.
“No, that’s very unlikely. We didn’t end things on good terms, but why show up now, two years later. If Bianca wanted to hurt me, wouldn’t she have done it right after she got fired? Back at our old workplace?”
“I’m glad you brought this up, Ms. Cooper. If you and Bianca haven’t spoken for two years as you claim, how would she know your whereabouts?”
“I don’t know! That’s why I was suggesting it might be a coincidence. I post about Black and Foam on social media, but she isn’t on any of my accounts, and I have airtight privacy.” Okay, maybe not airtight, there is no airtight privacy with socials, but it was as private as the settings allowed. There was the occasional smiling picture of me with the staff at Black and Foam’s official accounts, public naturally, but the accounts had a few thousand followers at best. I doubt Bianca came across any of those.
“Who do you think it was that attacked… killed her?” I asked. And why here?
“You said the murderer’s eyes were glowing in the dark,” Nick said.
I nodded.
“What color were his eyes glowing?” What kind of question was that? Where was this going?
“Red.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, exchanging looks with detective Chase.
“Yes! I am sure.”
Nick kicked the table with his foot sliding his chair away, and then he reclined his body sinking deeper in the seat, physically forcing his taut frame to relax. He took a deep breath, lifting his eyes from me to the ceiling. A loaded sigh escaped his mouth.
I turned to detective Chase. “Why is this important? I thought you guys didn’t believe the glowing eyes bit anyway.”
“We do,” Chase said. “That’s why Nicholas is here.”
I looked at him inquisitively.
“I consult in cases of a special kind, Marissa,” Nick said, still looking up, his coffee on the table, untouched, probably cold now. “Supernatural cases.”
“Supernatural?” The blood-streaked face came back to me. Inhuman, I had thought, and now they are telling me they called in a weird case consultant? “The police have a supernatural department?” I asked.
“Consultant,” Nick said, patiently, thoughtfully swinging his chair left and right on two legs.
“You’re a supernatural consultant.”
He nodded.
“You investigate what? Witches and wizards?” My very dangerous one night stand was a ghost hunter. Awesome.
“Yes,” he said, shifting his eyes to me, a challenging smile playing on his face. “And werewolves and vampires.”
“And what do the red eyes signify? In your expert opinion?” I bunny-eared the word expert.
“Listen, Ma’am,” Chase intervened before things could escalate between Nick and me, “you witnessed something you shouldn’t have today, and you have knowledge you shouldn’t have. What we want is for you to keep this knowledge to yourself.”
“You don’t want me to tell anyone the weird bits.”
“Exactly,” Chase said.
“Okay, I wasn’t going to anyway,” I lied. “Did you have to call in your supernatural expert just to tell me that?”
A thud echoes as Nick swung the chair back in position, then a dull scrape as he dragged it close to the table again. He leaned in, closing the small distance between us across the table, then with his face mere inches away from mine, he spoke. I tried to forget the last time his face was dangerously close to mine; this wasn’t the time. My tongue wanted to poke out, slide on my tingling lips. I stopped it. I’ll meet his eyes and feel nothing, I promised myself.
“No, Marissa,” Nick almost whispered, his breath hitting my face with a cold minty smell, “they had to call me to make sure you wouldn’t get murdered the same way the woman outside did.” His look was intense, the pale blue flashlights burning into me, a darker shade of blue now. My decision to hold his gaze suddenly seemed very bad. Chase gave Nick a warning look, but the humming voice continued anyway. “You did see the vampire, you took a good look at his face, and he a good look at yours. Not just that, he knows where to find you.”
I was feeling colder suddenly, a chill running from the very top of my spine and going down. My arms had broken in goosebumps. The look in the attacker’s eyes from behind the glass kept replaying in my head. Vampire or no vampire, I witnessed a murder, and the murderer already tried to take me out once. And yes, he knew exactly where to find me, all day, every day.
“Sometimes, when a vampire has his eyes set on a human, he doesn’t let go,” Nick said with bitterness in his voice, his hands finally giving in and gliding over mine. I was too mortified by what he was saying to pull away.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“Now, you don’t step a foot here until we get him,” Nick said. “And you stay close, where I can reach you. Don’t leave town. I’d say don’t even leave your hou
se unless you absolutely have to. Stay in your apartment where I can find you.”
Of course he had to remind me I can be reached in my apartment, found, taken, fucked. In my apartment. Where he had been before. Where he had shed sweat and other body fluids on bathroom tiles and hardwood floors. I glared at him and tried to find a fitting reply, but nothing came to me. A controlled smirk was breaking at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t just me; the word choice was deliberate. I knew it! Dick!
Chapter 6
“Listen, Nicholas! If you think you’re going to waltz in here and scare me with children’s stories about vampires and witches, then use that to order me around, think again.”
My anger was getting the best of me. I knew I shouldn’t be talking this way to someone working with the police, but this was just beyond my ability to control myself. This dick thought he could just do whatever he wants to me. Ever since he walked in here tonight, he’s been calling me with my first name, sneaking in a touch here and there, and now he was subtly referencing my availability at my apartment. As if he hadn’t fucked and dumped me. As if I had no self-respect.
“Ms. Cooper,” detective Chase started, moving his eyes carefully between Nick and me. Did he know something was going on between us? He is a cop; he must’ve picked up on something by this point. But that was beside the point. I ignored the anger breaking across Nick’s face, and turned to Chase.
“Is he even a real cop? I don’t have to do what he says, do I?” Nick’s anger was now turning into fury. I could see his chest moving up and down in forceful bursts of breathing. The two men exchanged a look, then Chase shook his head in resignation.
“Okay, I have to take this,” the detective took his phone, and trying not to meet my eyes, he walked out the front door, leaving me alone with the supernatural vampire hunter, also known as Nicholas Hayes.
Taking advantage of the detective’s absence, I pulled my iPhone for the second time. This was how I ended up in Nick’s arms.
“Leave that phone, Marissa. I’m telling you!” his arms were wrapped around me, thick coils of muscle, turning me around as if I weighed nothing.
“No! I have rights.” I pushed him. It was pointless, obviously, and I ended up losing ground and being spun around to face him. His face was right in front of mine, our noses almost touching. His eyes caught mine, and something in him softened. I was flush against him, breathing heavy, suddenly at a loss for words, or actions or rational thought. His eyes moved down instinctively, almost physically undressing me. My jacket was opened, and the tank top underneath did what stretchy tank tops always do with any kind of physical activity, it was pulled down to reveal a generous amount of cleavage. And Nick wasn’t looking away, squashed against his chest as I was, with half my boobs spilling out. He finally managed to peel his eyes away from my breasts and shine them back on me. I could see him swallow hard before he spoke. “I want you to do as I say.”
Oh really?
“Or what?”
His erection was pushing against me. I felt it, and he knew I felt it.
“You know or what.” His cold blue eyes were catching fire.
Or he was going to fuck me here and then on this table? A pulse hit me at the thought. No, he wasn’t going to do that. We were in Black and Foam for god’s sake. Yes, the blinds had been drawn, but there were close to twenty cops out there. Anybody could walk in at any minute.
“You want me, don’t you?” his mouth was close to mine, too close.
“Fuck off, Nick,” I managed to say, my voice softer than I intended, breathless.
“So it’s Nick now, not Nicholas?” He chuckled, still holding me.
I rolled my eyes. “Just let me go.”
“Please,” he instructed, his hand moving down my waist and towards my butt.
Now, I didn’t want to lose this, to submit to his humiliating demand, but I knew it was better to quit now than to try to maintain any kind of rational thought with his hands where they shouldn’t be. I knew from experience what his touch could do to me, and this was a battle I was going to lose, and the losses will be heavy.
“Please,” I said.
“See? That’s better,” he loosened his arms around me and let me slip out. I stood awkwardly a few inches away from him.
“Now, apologize.” He crossed his arms.
“What?!” He had some nerve asking for an apology after he physically restrained me!
“Apologize. For saying I was using children’s stories to order you around.”
“Why, that’s exactly what you were trying to do,” I challenged
“I order you around because I like to order you around, that’s irrelevant to anything else,” Nick said. His voice went down a few notched before conspiringly adding, “and because you like to do exactly what I tell you to do.”
His words! His fucking words! So, I surrendered control one night, one night in my 25 years on earth, and this had to happen to me. Yes, I enjoyed doing what he said that night. I enjoyed bending over as he said, crawling on the floor as he said, spreading myself out for him as he said. But that was a one-time thing, a fluke!
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Nothing!”
“You’re thinking about something. You’re blushing. Were you thinking about that time I fucked you?”
I gave him my angriest most offended look. “You didn’t fuck me.”
“No? Because I am not buying this who-is-that thing you did when Owen was here.”
“We made love,” I declared.
“No, I’m pretty sure we fucked. That I fucked you. With my cock. Those were the exact words you used: fuck me. With your cock.” He was still standing a few inches away, his tall frame towering over me, all ripped muscle and testosterone and unspoken dirty promises. And he had a point there; I had said that. He remembered the exact words.
“Okay, we fucked So?”
He raised his eyebrows. “So it meant nothing to you? Is picking guys up at bars and taking them back to your apartment something you do often?”
Now, he was slut-shaming me, Nick the dick was slut-shaming me. I was infuriated because it was not true and because there is nothing I can say to prove it was not true, but I was mostly fuming because I shouldn’t care if he thinks it was true. Who is he to judge? And why does his opinion even matter?
“I don’t think I am the one who does this often, special consultant,” I spat the words.
He looked hurt. I didn’t care.
Dating was hard enough for me, spread thin as I was between work and college. I have had the one boyfriend in high school and two relationships in my four years at college, all ending in tears. My high school relationship was okay, but it ended with both him and me moving away for college. My first college boyfriend was caught cheating, and the second broke up with me because “I took relationships too seriously.” This was the thing; I did take relationships too seriously; Brad was right about that.
See, I believe in love. It’s not something I would say out loud to anybody, but I do, not the cheesy stories I watch in romantic comedies and cry, but true love. I believe in supporting each other, sharing secrets, growing old together. And I believe in intimacy. I have never gotten naked with a guy I didn’t genuinely care for, with a guy I wasn’t planning a future of some sort with. Until this dick in front of me happened that is. I don’t know why I let my guard down with Nick; it was something primal. Something like two halves of a whole being drawn together, only not on a spiritual level, but on an animalistic physical level. Nick’s touch drove me insane that night; it lit my insides on fire. All he had to do was touch me, and I was his for the taking. I hated it, I was ashamed of it, but that’s what happened. And if I wasn’t careful, that’s what I was at risk of right now.
Nick not only cracked my self-respect in this brief encounter we had a year ago, but he also pushed the idea of true love from prospect to dream as far as I was concerned. Up until meeting him, I still believed that I was going to
meet someone one day, someone like my exes maybe, only better, with whom I will enjoy movie nights in, take out, and the occasional roll in bed. It was after I had been pinned to a bed, taken on the floor, and ridden in a shower that I knew that what I thought I had in every past relationship amounted to nothing. Nick had given me a thunderstorm when all I ever experienced was a light drizzle.
And to find someone with a physical connection like the one Nick and I had who will also love me, respect me and stay faithful to me was something out of the realm of possibility.
So there went any hope I had of finding real love. The stakes were raised too high, and anything would’ve been a compromise.
It was because of Nick that every date failed, every goodnight kiss at the door was meh, and every tinder prospect wasn’t good enough. Yes, I probably wouldn’t have fell head over heels for any of these guys anyway, but I would have still believed in the possibility.
Instead, for a whole year now, I have been going through life believing that there was nobody for me out there, that I was going to be single forever. This was partially why I gave Black and Foam so much. It was all I had, and I genuinely believed that it was all I will ever have. Black and Foam isn’t just my baby; it is my love.
So if the man who killed my faith in love was standing in front of me butt hurt over me slut-shaming him, after he’d fucked and dumped me, I didn’t care.
“Marissa, I’m sorry,” Nick finally said, and I realized a couple of tears had spilled on my cheeks.
“It’s okay.” I wiped the tears away fast.
“No. No, it’s not.” He took my chin in his hand, lifting my face up. “I’m truly sorry. I owe you an apology.”
“Keep your apologies to yourself,” I was recovering fast, at least externally, “this ship has sailed anyway.”
“Has it?” he asked.
“I am busy with other things in my life now. Aren’t you?”
He paused, then he let his hand drop by his side. “Yea.” He rubbed his face with his hands, then ran his fingers through his shortly cropped hair. “This had been a long night. This can wait.”
“There is no this,” I insisted.