Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

  “That’s about the gist of it.” She could hear the smile in John’s tone. “Talk to you later, babe.”

  “Bye.” Mina ended the call and looked at Eric, who sat quietly with a curious expression on his face.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She told him about the fingerprints on the pen, how evidence was stacking against him. The missing murder weapon might be the only thing that could clear him.

  “Shit. I feel like I’m in a nightmare.”

  Mina couldn’t disagree—none of this felt real. He was being set up. At least, she was ninety-nine percent sure. But by who and why? “Do you have any enemies? Anyone who’d want to see you out of the way?”

  “Sure.” He nodded.

  “Who?”

  He hesitated, and his reluctance to name names made her suspicious. She stood up and started to pace. Her bare feet slapped against his hardwood floors. “Look. Someone is trying awfully damned hard to make you look guilty.”

  Eric sighed and leaned back. “About two weeks ago, right after my junior partnership was announced, the FBI approached me. They said the firm was under investigation and wanted me to be their eyes and ears.”

  “What’d you tell them?”

  “That I wouldn’t do it.”

  “And?”

  “They told me they’d make sure I went down when they got enough evidence to convict the partners.”

  “Are you sure they were FBI?”

  “I guess.” He shrugged. “Their IDs appeared legitimate.”

  “Okay, but I don’t think the FBI would resort to murdering someone to get to you.”

  “You’re right, of course.” He swiped his hands through his hair, his green eyes impossibly bright. “Well, there’s Tobias.”

  “Tobias? You mean Tobias Tolliver, the guy who was talking with our missing witness?”

  “Yes, that Tobias. I sorta… umm… slept with his wife.”

  “Sorta slept with his wife? How does someone sorta sleep with someone else?”

  “I just meant it wasn’t planned. It was only twice. The second time, he caught us.”

  “So, Tolliver knew you had sex with his wife? A partner at the firm and you still made junior partner.”

  “Apparently, he was outvoted at the meeting.”

  “Who else?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “I’m beginning to think you’ve burned a few more bridges than you’re telling me.”

  Eric shrugged. “There’s Kathleen.”

  “Kitty? Please don’t tell me you banged her as well.”

  “No. But not because she didn’t want to. She’s been obsessed with me.”

  “What about Albright? You think he could have picked up on any of that? Got jealous?”

  Chuckling, Eric leaned forward and shook his head. “Albright’s a nice man. Clueless, but nice. Kathleen’s a pariah, but he thinks she’s a goddess.”

  “Don’t underestimate a man’s ability to pick up on signals.” Mina rubbed her eyebrows, which had been tensing since the conversation began. Not only was Eric a suspect in a murder investigation, but he was also a womanizer and working for a shady tech firm. “Anyone else?”

  “Wilson.”

  “Did you sleep with his wife too?”

  Eric didn’t answer, which in itself was all the answer Mina needed. “I think we can rule out the dead guy.”

  Sunlight crept through the windows. She checked her watch—five-thirty, ugh. She walked over to the windows and realized her dress was starting to get damned uncomfortable. “Do you have some sweats or something I can change into? I can’t think in this dress.”

  The side of his mouth turned up in a crooked smile. “Sure. I can’t think while you’re in that dress either.”

  “Don’t get cute.” Too late. Damn, the man made her feel like a big, stimulated nerve end.

  After Eric fetched her a black pair of jogging pants and an oversized top, she looked around the loft. There wasn’t a single wall that couldn’t be seen through. “I’m not changing in front of you.”

  He pointed over to the wall of frosted glass bricks near the bedroom area. “You can change in the bathroom if you like.”

  Scrutinizing the barely muted glass, she nodded. Not much privacy, but it would do.

  She felt more than saw Eric’s gaze rake over her body before he asked, “Need help with your zipper?”

  Mina shivered and fought the whim to say, Hell, yeah! But instead, she said, “I can handle it on my own. Thanks.”

  Eric looked a bit confused. “Aren’t you attracted to me?”

  “I told you…”

  “I know. Rules. But that’s not what I’m asking. You don’t feel… compelled to have sex with me?”

  “No, but yes.” She squeezed her thighs together. “You are part leiol, Eric. That makes you hard to resist, but not impossible.”

  “Really?” Her answer seemed to relieve Eric, which both surprised and annoyed Mina all at the same time.

  He shifted on the couch, silk boxers sliding up his thigh, revealing a strong curve of butt cheek. Holy smokes, he was one sexy-ass man.

  Maybe changing clothes wasn’t the best idea. Getting naked anywhere near him was a bad idea. Her mouth went dry. “Uh, I should probably go home. We can talk tomorrow.”

  “You could do that.” He leaned forward. “Or not.”

  This was too much. Between Gav and Eric, her lust-o-meter was maxing out. The fact she was even considering having sex with her best friend’s brother rattled her cage. “Feast or famine,” she mumbled, taking an involuntary step toward him.

  Eric started to stand and Mina held up a hand. “Don’t.” Her breath caught at the look in his startling clear eyes. “Don’t get up.”

  Eric’s focus stayed on her as she rushed to the door, slid it open, and stepped out into the hallway. Once the door was closed between them, Mina slumped against the wall. It took five steps to the elevator to realize she’d forgotten her shoes.

  “Looking for these?”

  Mina pivoted on the ball of her foot. Eric stood in the doorway, dangling her stilettos like a carrot before a donkey. She closed the gap between them in a few short strides. When she reached for her heels, Eric pulled her into a rough embrace. His mouth met hers, pressing hard, lips and tongue feasting over each other. She breathed in the sweet scent of his freshly scrubbed body.

  The muscles in his back shifted and bunched beneath her exploring fingertips. He pulled her closer until the swell of his erection pressed against her stomach. She gasped and pushed him back from her, all the while wanting so badly to finish what they’d started. “This isn’t right,” she whispered.

  “Mina.”

  “Don’t talk,” she said. “Don’t breathe. Don’t move.” She ignored the aching need gripping her entire body and grabbed her shoes from his hand. “This is so not going to happen.”

  His leiol pheromones once again overrode any other feeling Mina could sense, but the disappointment was clear in his expression. “Can I, at least, call you a cab?”

  “Yes,” Mina said, as she suppressed the urge to sprint toward the elevator. “Tell him I’ll be out by the curb.”

  Chapter Seven

  WHEN MINA ARRIVED home, barefoot and in the crumpled red dress, she stepped into the condo’s elevator as Gav was stepping out. Damn it!

  He held the doors open with one hand. Sniffing the air, he shifted closer. “Just getting home?” His face was blank, carefully guarded.

  She blinked, trying to concentrate through the overwhelming waves of jealousy and possession. “No, early morning. Just got back from a run.”

  He looked down at her bare feet. “In the same dress you wore last night and without your shoes?”

  She shrugged, too tired to come up with a really good lie. “Anything new on Wilson’s death?”

  “You know I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation.”

  “Eric didn’t do it.”

  “Your belief in
your boyfriend isn’t hard evidence, you know that right?”

  “He’s not my—”

  Gav raised his hand and leaned in close. He breathed her in. “I can smell him on you, Mina,” he growled, his words rough and dangerous.

  She couldn’t think of anything to say—at least not anything plausible. She’d only kissed Eric, but wow, it had been amazingly hot. Even so, she’d stopped herself before things went too far. Regardless, she didn’t have to justify herself to Gav Doyle. He was the one who’d made it perfectly clear they were O-V-E-R. Instead, she smiled. “Good to see you, Gavriil.”

  Gav frowned, eyebrows arching together in annoyance—much better than rip-your-throat-out anger. She wished he wasn’t so damned gorgeous and irresistible. It would make the whole “clean break” from him a lot easier. Mina blew him a kiss as the elevator closed between them.

  ***

  GAV SLAMMED THE car door shut. He fantasized about slamming his fist into Eric Bishop’s face, but the door was more productive and would get him in less trouble. He wanted to arrest the man on principle alone, but despite what he’d said to Mina, he agreed with her that he wasn’t a killer. While the body hadn’t been skinned like the one discovered on the Plaza, it bore the same crisscrossing mark on the back of the head. This crime had to be other worlder, but he couldn’t tell the species. It was a scent he’d never smelled before. And unfortunately, it didn’t smell like Eric Fucking Bishop.

  He hated to call Myron Gray, but he needed an expert in other worlder genesis to find out what he was dealing with. He assumed the OW was human passing, or HP, since nobody noticed a monster at the party. But there were more than a hundred different varieties of OWs, and that didn’t include the intermixed breeds. One murder, he might hold off on calling the shadow warriors, but two was the beginning of a dangerous pattern. Twice now the killer had left a victim in a public area without anyone noticing, and the maniac hadn’t left a single stitch of evidence behind. Gav couldn’t wait for a fourth victim to pop up, especially now that Mina was nosing around. They might not be together, but he still cared. More than he thought healthy for either of them.

  He pulled out his phone and pulled up Boogey Man in his contacts. A man picked up after the third ring.

  “You’ve reached the bat-phone. Whatcha need?”

  He’d spoke to Myron Gray only twice before, and this wasn’t him. Did he have the wrong number in his contacts? “Who is this?”

  “Hold on.” He could hear some beeps in the background as he waited for a few seconds before the man returned. “You’re Detective Gavriil Matthew Doyle of the Kansas City PD, leogenus, full-blood, son of Gabriel and Aspacia Doyle, next in line to lead the Lincoln Pride since your older brother’s shunning—”

  “Enough,” Gav said. “I get it.” The fact that Gray’s shadow warriors knew about his brother’s shunning from the Pride startled him.

  The man chuckled. “I’m just fucking with you. This is Destan Gray. What’s the trouble?”

  “I have a couple of murders. A weird pattern on the back of each victim’s neck ties them together. I suspect an unidentifiable OW. I’ve never encountered the species before. At least not that I’m aware of. I think they may fall into your purview.”

  “I’ll head your way tomorrow.”

  “Can’t I just give you the information over the phone?”

  “Gav. Can I call you Gav? I see in your file it’s your preference.” He didn’t wait for Gav to answer. “You have a bigger problem than a potential serial killer. We’ve been tracking some rebel activity in your area, and it sounds like they may have escalated, and we need to know why.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we. All other worlders who don’t want to be thrust into the spotlight if the bad guys are able to get a real foothold. They think because Queen Benoica isn’t cray-cray like her daddy that they can shit all over her regime. We’re going to show them just how wrong they are. I’ll be sending one of our agents your way tomorrow. He’ll text when he’s in the city, and you can arrange to meet.” Destan Gray ended the conversation by hanging up the phone.

  “Well, shit.” Looked like Gav was getting personalized help from the shadow warriors whether he wanted it or not.

  ***

  MINA AGREED TO meet Eric for lunch at Taco Jalisco’s Mexican Restaurant, and she arrived sporting her favorite pair of black, low-rise jeans and a fitted dark green V-neck tee shirt. Not quite rested, but feeling much more alert, and a lot guiltier since she’d had a couple hours of sleep. Ugh, Charlie’s kid brother. How could she have considered having sex with him?

  Eric arrived before her. He wore a tailored charcoal gray suit, hugging his body in all the right places, making him even more handsome—which answered her previous question about the “how.” Three waitresses fawned over him at the table. Even the older gal who worked as a hostess gave Eric the hoochie-eye.

  Looking around the room, Mina noticed that nearly all the women in the restaurant were gazing at him like they were diabetics and he was the last candy bar on earth. Joining him at the table, Mina felt the animosity roll off the waitresses as two of them left and the remaining woman reluctantly took her order. She focused on blocking her abilities and the emotions subsided. After the waitress had walked away, Mina turned to the mouth-watering young man. “You need to shut down the ju-ju unless you want a riot on your hands. Every woman in this restaurant wants to have sex with you.”

  “Even you.” The right side of his mouth turned up in a partial smile.

  Everything about him made Mina’s lower parts go tight and wet. She licked her lips. “Well…” She cleared her throat. “No, I don’t.” Translation—yes, I do.

  “If you say so,” he said. But he gave her that infuriatingly sexy smile.

  “Cut that out,” Mina chided him as the food arrived. “What did your lawyer say this morning?”

  “He keeps telling me not to worry, everything they have is circumstantial, but naturally, I’m worried,” Eric said while slicing his burrito. Mina took note that he hadn’t taken one bite of food since the waiter had brought out the meals. He just played with it—cutting, moving, picking, piling. There was a small stack of diced onions and green peppers off to one side of his plate.

  She had to ask. “Why don’t you just ask them not to put onions and peppers on your food?”

  He pushed another onion piece aside. “I had a friend in college who used to work as a cook. He said that whenever a customer would special order a dish or return food for adjustments, it would piss him off so much that he would spit in the food. It’s always haunted me.” He finally took a small bite, chewed then swallowed. “So unless I’m in a five-star restaurant, I just settle for whatever’s on the menu and adjust the meal on the plate.”

  Her mouth dropped. “Taco Jalisco is a classy place! I can’t even believe you would suggest something like that would happen here. And as for your friend… let me just say, eww!” There! How was that for righteous indignation? The problem was, she’d ordered a tamale—hold the chili sauce, hold the cheese—and now his story made her suspicious of her own food.

  He took another bite of his burrito. “Mmm,” he said. “This is pretty good.”

  One of the waitresses, a young woman with pulled back brown hair, large breasts, and a little waist, sauntered over to the table. She’d undone the top two buttons on her blouse. Leaning toward Eric, she asked, “Can I get you anything?”

  Mina’s emotional block held, but she didn’t need it open to know what the waitress felt. “I didn’t know double-Ds were on the menu. Why don’t you just throw your panties at him, for Christ’s sake?” She clenched her fists to stave off the jealousy. Her sudden need to make all the other women in the room disappear bordered on homicidal. What is wrong with me?

  The waitress snapped up straight and walked off in a huff.

  “For someone who claims to have no designs on me, you’re surprisingly possessive.”

  “Am not.” Mina pushed her p
late away. “So what exactly did the lawyer say?”

  “I told you. He said not to worry.” He scratched his chin. “Mr. Albright says the note that came to our table wasn’t from him. I think your theory about someone being out to get me might be correct.”

  The note! She suddenly felt like an idiot. Some investigator she was turning out to be. Slapping her forehead in frustration, she asked, “What did you do with the note?”

  “I threw it away.”

  “Threw it away! How could you throw it away?”

  “I threw it away before I went into the bathroom,” he said, getting agitated. “I’m not a psychic. I didn’t know that when I walked in the bathroom, there’d be a dead body. Jesus.”

  Mina took a deep breath. Okay, calm down. Maybe there was still a way to retrieve the note. “It’s fine,” she said. “Are you going to be all right today?”

  “Sure. You got plans?”

  She did now. Mina envisioned an entire afternoon digging around in a giant garbage bin. It wasn’t going to be pretty, but the note could be the key to finding out who was trying so hard to frame Eric. “Yeah. I need to take care of a few things.”

  They both stood up at the same time and grabbed the check. “I’ll get it,” she told him.

  He shook his head. “No, my treat.”

  She could have argued—women’s lib, feminism, and all that—but decided she’d put it on his tab. After all, if she was going to investigate, she was going to bill him. “Okay.”

  He winked then grinned. “Next time…your treat?” he asked mischievously.

  Yeah, right. It wasn’t food on his mind. “In your dreams,” she said, brushing past him toward the exit.

  “In yours,” she heard him say. He wasn’t wrong.

  She went straight out of the restaurant without looking back and rounded the nearest alley to catch her breath. Her flushed skin and rapid pulse felt as if she were wearing someone else’s body. She’d been trained to be calm, cool, and level-headed. So why was she losing it over this guy like a schoolgirl in heat? It wasn’t just his lineage. They had a connection, a bond. The strength of which stunned her. She punched her thigh. Hard. The pain helped her to gather her wits. Gav. Eric. The two of them had been constantly on her mind, and they were distractions she didn’t want or need.