Missing Magic

by Karen Whiddon

  With her adrenaline already pumping, she pushed away the sharp stab of desire and inhaled sharply, telling herself not to lose focus.

  When she didn’t immediately answer, he came closer. “Dee? The phone. Who called?”

  “Mick,” she said firmly, suddenly conscious of her aching breasts and the way her nipples poked at her cotton pajama top.

  Instantly alert, Cenrick took the last couple of steps, stopping at the side of her bed. Peering down at her, he ran a hand through his hair. “Mick? Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. Caller I.D. wasn’t helpful. He said he was calling to warn me.” She repeated the rest of Mick’s words.

  Again, Cenrick dragged his hand through his hair, making an even worse mess of it. Tempted to help him out, she knew running her own fingers through it would be a terrible mistake. At this moment, merely touching him would destroy what was left of her tattered self-control.

  She couldn’t give in to temptation.

  So what if she did? She was tired of fighting her attraction to him. Right now, Cenrick’s masculine beauty was the only good thing left in her life.

  And if there was anything she’d learned growing up the way she had, if something good came along, she’d better enjoy it. Happiness was fleeting.

  He shifted, looking down at her. She knew the exact moment when his focus changed from discussing the phone call to registering the fact that she was nearly-naked, with hunger burning in her eyes.

  “Dee?” He touched her arm, making her jump. “Are you all right?”

  The huskiness in his voice had her peering up at him through her lashes. What she saw in his face made her heart skip and her breath catch in her throat.

  Desire. As raw and hot and urgent as her own.

  Her heart turned over in her chest. She concentrated on keeping her breathing steady and regular. Did she really want to do this?

  The answer was a resounding yes.

  Cenrick sat down on the edge of her bed, causing the mattress to dip and her mouth to go dry. How simple it would be to roll towards him, until she could wrap herself around his muscular body. Once they touched, the hear would combust, she knew, and they’d make wild, passionate love.

  Even thinking about that had her biting back a groan.

  Still, she held back, unwilling to make the first move. Even though she knew doing so wouldn’t absolve her of guilt, if anything happened between them, she wanted him to initiate it.

  “I wonder why he called now, in the middle of the night,” Cenrick mused.

  “He had to be calling me on the sly,” she said, rehashing their conversation, feeling rather desperate. “You should have heard him, whispering. If he wasn’t in danger, why whisper?”

  “True. So he didn’t want his cohort, Natasha, to hear him.”

  “Exactly.” He stared off into the distance, thinking. He was a thousand miles away from her.

  He wasn’t going to touch her. Her heart sank and her throat ached. Either his self-restraint was greater than hers, or he just flat didn’t want her.

  She remembered the feeling from a childhood spent waiting to be adopted.

  Fine. She could deal with this. But, if she didn’t move, and quickly, she’d make a complete and utter fool of herself.

  Edging out of her bed, careful not to touch him, she headed for her closet. She could have sworn she felt his gaze, burning.

  Doing her best to pretend he wasn’t there, she pulled a pair of jeans up over her short pajama bottoms and grabbed a t-shirt with a built-in bra. Keeping her back to him, she got dressed, finally stepping into flip-flops.

  Thus armored, she turned and faced him, hoping her expression looked as remote as she was trying to make it.

  He watched her, his expression perplexed. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting dressed so I can go,” she said in a lofty voice.

  “Go where?”

  Crossing to the dresser, she didn’t look at him as she dragged a brush through her hair. “Mick’s house.” On her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth, she looked at him over her shoulder, eying his boxers with a disdainful, raised brow. “And if you want to go, you’d better get dressed quickly.” And she closed the bathroom door behind her.

  As exit lines went, it wasn’t half bad. He’d never know the way her emotions and need tumbled inside her.

  Leaning on the counter over the sink, she let her rigid posture sag. She craved the man with a strength and urgency she’d never before felt, not even with Peter. Worse, she knew the combination was impossible. Cenrick was a Fae prince, while she was… nothing. She had no job, no family, no friends. Even Mick, the man she’d called brother, had deserted her.

  “No pity parties,” she told herself firmly, rolling her shoulders.

  Brushing her teeth, washing her face, rolling on deodorant, all the normal motions of an ordinary morning should have helped her regain her equilibrium. But it was two o’clock in the morning, and her body knew she ought to be in bed.

  With Cenrick. She sagged against the counter. Back to that again. What on earth was wrong with her? She covered her face with her hands. She was an emotional wreck. Not only had she been put on suspension at work, but she’d lost her best friend and less than a week had passed since Peter had broken up with her. She’d believed she loved him, though she now had her doubts. By dumping her, Peter had saved them both from making a monumental mistake.

  Her thoughts returned to the man waiting for her in the other room. She couldn’t help but wonder who would save her this time?

  Reaching for a towel, she blotted her face dry and sighed. Sometimes she couldn’t win for losing.

  He was dressed and waiting when she emerged.

  “Let’s go.” She strode past him, proud of herself for appearing so aloof as she scooped up her car keys.

  He followed her, waiting silently while she locked the door. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was brooding.

  Outside, the night air was cool. The stars sparkled brightly in the cloudless sky.

  She drove fast, with a precision she’d learned in the police academy. Beside her on the front seat, Cenrick stared out the window as the night landscape flashed past, and didn’t speak.

  Which suited her fine. She wasn’t in the mood for talking either.

  As they exited the freeway, she heard the sound of sirens in the distance. As she neared the subdivision, the sirens grew louder. A fire truck roared up behind them, lights flashing. As Dee pulled over to let it pass, several more followed.

  “Two or three alarms,” she mused. “Not good.”

  “What?”

  “That means they’re calling more than one city for assistance. Look. Smoke, that way.” She pointed, an awful certainty making her chest tight. “That’s right where we’re going. Mick’s house.”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Cenrick said.

  “That makes two of us.”

  “You don’t think…?”

  She smiled grimly. “Unfortunately, I do.”

  Even more fire engines, an ambulance, and two police cruisers, all with lights and sirens blaring, passed them.

  Dee checked her mirrors and pulled back on to the street

  The scent of smoke grew worse as they pulled into the gates marking the beginning of Mick’s subdivision. Ahead, a glow lit up the sky, similar to the one caused by Natasha’s machine.

  As they attempted to turn onto Mick’s street, they found it crammed with fire trucks, emergency vehicles, and police cars, making it impassable. A roadblock had been set up, and worried neighbors clustered at each end of the street.

  Four houses down, an enormous blaze raged. The flames engulfed not only Mick’s, but the houses on both sides of him.

  “Damn it.” Dee opened her door. “I don’t believe this.” She started to get out, but Cenrick grabbed her arm.

  “Wait.” he said. “Going out there might not be safe for you.”

  “Why, because Mick
just called and warned me away?” She shook her head. “You know why he did that. The phone call was probably a last ditch effort to get me to stay away.”

  “You don’t find this odd? Mick calls you and less than an hour later, his house catches fire?”

  She stared at him. He stared back.

  “You know I’ve got to go. I can’t sit here and do nothing while they burn his house to the ground.”

  She got out of the car. He did the same, a look of resignation on his handsome face.

  Though she knew the firefighters would keep her from getting to close, she approached anyway, Cenrick at her side.

  Fire trucks were everywhere, completely blocking the street, a cacophony of engines and sirens, hoses spraying and blaze roaring. Blue, red, and white lights flashed from the trucks, a startling contrast to the leaping orange flames. Black smoke billowed, turning to gray as the multiple hoses continually blasted water.

  Despite this onslaught, the inferno blazed on, flames arching high and wide, unstoppable. Showers of sparks threatened to ignite more trees, other roofs, additional houses, if the steady flow of water wasn’t able to curb the conflagration.

  The closer Dee got, the more intense the heat.

  “Get back,” someone shouted. A group of suited firefighters moved back in a wave. A shower of sparks exploded as the roof collapsed.

  “Was anyone in there?” Dee asked, grabbing at the first person she could. “Did everyone get out safely?”

  “We don’t know.” Grim-faced, the soot-stained firefighter shook off her hand. “By the time someone sounded the alarm and we could get here, the structure was already too unstable, the fire too intense. We tried to send someone in, but he couldn’t make it.”

  One of the harried cops caught sight of her and hurried over. “Dee, what the hell are you doing here?”

  Chad Warwick, one of her former pals from work.

  “I wanted to check on Mick.”

  Frowning, he shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder about you. Did you ever stop to think how this will look?”

  Confused, she stared at him. “How what will look?”

  “You’re under investigation. Mick goes missing, an incriminating note is found, and then you show up at his house to watch while it burns to the ground. Don’t you think they’re going to wonder if you torched the place?”

  “You know me better than that.” But her heart was pounding. “And I didn’t know his house was on fire until I got here. Mick called me.”

  Now it was his turn to stare. “No way.”

  “Yes. He’s not missing. He called me tonight, just a half hour ago.”

  “From here? Not possible.”

  “I don’t know where he was. Caller ID didn’t say. He blocked the call.”

  Chad crossed his arms, regarding her steadily. She could tell he didn’t believe her.

  “Start another hose,” someone yelled. Another truck moved into place, more firefighters jumping off. While they worked feverishly to unravel the hose, another man pushed through and headed towards Dee. Even at this distance, she recognized him. Ted Harstan, the Fire Chief.

  As he approached, she could tell he wasn’t happy to see her.

  “Chief Harstan.” Dee dipped her head, smiling pleasantly. “How are you?”

  “Dee Bishop.” No answering smile softened the craggy planes of his face. “You need to move along now. You don’t belong here. But then, it’s a known fact arsonists can’t resist returning to the scene of their crime.”

  “Arsonists?” Reeling from his words, Dee was glad of Cenrick’s steadying arm. “What are you saying?”

  He ignored her question, continuing in a hard voice. “I’m warning you right now. We will have investigators looking into the cause of this fire. If arson is determined, and I think it will be, you’d better hope you have an alibi.”

  An alibi? “Are you formally accusing me of setting this fire?” She couldn’t believe this. Yet his rigid posture and scowling face told her he meant exactly what she’d thought.

  “Not formally.” His accusatory glare cut her to the bone. “But you’re my main suspect.” With that, he stalked back to his men.

  With a sad shake of his head, Chad Warwick watched him go. “I told you. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “What the hell?” Dee exploded. “Why does everyone in this town find it so easy to believe I’m a criminal?”

  Chad looked back over his shoulder. “Motive, Dee,” he said. “Motive.” He walked away, leaving Dee standing staring after him, her stomach tied in knots and burning.

  “Maybe we should go.” Cenrick tried to turn her away, back towards her car. As he did, flashbulbs exploded. Reporters! Three cameramen, each from a different network, came at her, shouting questions while filming her with the raging inferno as a backdrop.

  “What do you have to say to the allegations about your connection to Mick Morsi’s disappearance?” A stocky woman from Channel Four News called out.

  Stunned, Dee could only shake her head. Not waiting for her answer, the other reporters yelled out their questions, each vying loudly to be the one she answered.

  “Did you set this fire?”

  “What do you know about the blood in Mr. Morsi’s Explorer?”

  Meanwhile, the cameras continued to roll.

  Dee tried to push her way past them, but they blocked her.

  “Come on.” Cenrick turned her into his chest, shielding her, using his big body like a linebacker to push their way through.

  They made it to her car. Hands shaking, Dee managed to get the key in the ignition and start the engine. She drove without seeing where she was going. Drove until the smoke and the sirens and the commotion was several blocks behind.

  Then, pulling over, she turned to face Cenrick.

  “You realize what this means, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “With the house gone, they won’t be back. Wherever they’ve moved the machine, it’s permanently gone. We’ll have hell finding it.”

  “Or Mick.” She ran her fingers through her hair, wishing she could stop trembling. “And, they’re trying to pin one more thing on me. My credibility is shot to hell. They’ve won.”

  “Not yet. We’ll figure something out.” He leaned close. She was pretty sure he meant to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head at the last moment, and his mouth slanted across hers.

  Shuddering, she put all of her frustration into the kiss. It might be a mistake, but she needed this more than she’d ever needed anything.

  Chapter Nine

  THE INSTANT their lips touched, heat flared.

  Desperation driving her, she put her everything into the kiss, hoping, praying, he wouldn’t turn her away.

  After a second of stunned shock, he took control, deepening the kiss, his tongue mating with hers.

  Desperation fled, desire, urgent and hot, taking its place. She wanted him, right here, right now. Had she really thought she could control this? When they’d been dancing around their attraction for days?

  Luckily, she still had the capacity to reason. After all, they were in her car, parked on the side of a very public street.

  “Cenrick.” She broke away. “We can’t. Not here.”

  He nodded, gazing down at her. The heat blazing in his eyes was almost enough to change her mind.

  “My apartment. We’re five minutes away.”

  “Get there quickly.” The raw desire in his husky voice made her shiver.

  “Oh, I will,” she promised.

  They made it in four minutes. Exiting the car, they hit sidewalk running, taking the steps two at a time.

  As they reached the landing, she dug her key out of her purse and headed for the door.

  Cenrick grabbed her arm. “Wait.”

  Impatient, she danced from one foot to the other, anticipation making her edgy. “Why? What’s up?”

  “Look.” He pointed.

  Her front door, slightly ajar. When they’d left, she’d been careful to lock
it.

  “Someone’s been in my apartment.” She pulled her gun from the holster and flicked off the safety. “Let’s go.” “No.” He touched her arm, forestalling her. “I’m going first.”

  “But I’m armed. You’re not.”

  “You can cover my back.” Without waiting for an answer, he pushed the door open with his shoulder.

  Taking a deep breath, Dee plunged in right behind him.

  Inside, chaos reigned.

  “Look at this.” He shook his head. “What the—?”

  With a touch on his arm, she got his attention. “We check the place out first, see if anyone’s still here. Then we can take stock of the destruction.”

  Prowling from room to room, searched everywhere. As she’d suspected, the intruder was long gone.

  “Now,” she said, holstering her gun. “Let’s see what they’ve done.”

  Vicious, random, destruction. Her apartment had been completely trashed.

  They started with her living room, her favorite. The multi-hued pillows had been slit, their stuffing flung all over the room. The plush sofa had been slashed. All that remained of the cushions were ribbons of foam and cloth. The intruder had even taken care to destroy the prints on the walls, smashing the glass and using the shards to shred the art.

  In the kitchen she saw that the contents of her refrigerator had been flung all over the countertops and walls, running in great globs of goo to the tile.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think this looks like the work of teenagers. It’s random destruction for no reason.”

  He gave her a thoughtful look. “I think they’re trying to intimidate you.”

  “Who? Natasha and her pals?” She grabbed paper towels, handed some to him, and got busy cleaning the kitchen. After a moment, he joined her.

  “After what happened to Mick’s, I’m actually surprised they didn’t set fire to the place,” he said, scrubbing along beside her.

  “Ah, but then I wouldn’t have been able to see their handiwork.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone. “What I want to know is why? Why are they targeting me? What have I done to hack them off?”