A few hours later, the sheriff and his deputies made a beeline for the mayor’s residence and pulled up with full sirens blaring. This was like being on an episode of Cops! Very exciting. I only hoped the bad guy was still home to get his due. I hummed the theme song Bad Boys as I watched them, along with Babel, efficiently break down the front door, guns drawn Barney Fife style as they entered.
I was filled with anticipation as I waited to see if they would come out of the house with Neville in tow. As one of his victims, I had a right to face him. To accuse his ass of these heinous crimes and watch him squirm. With determination, I ran to the door, but Farraday stopped me. He shook his head. “Wait.”
Neville was standing near the doorway of his bedroom (I assumed, because I could see a bed inside). Just standing there. Why weren’t they taking him down?
“You.” I pointed an accusing finger.
Neville blinked, but he didn’t say anything.
“Sunny,” Babe said, coming out of the bedroom. “You should wait outside.”
“Why aren’t you arresting him? Or beating him to a bloody pulp? Or something equally warranted?”
“It’s too late,” Farraday told me. “He’s gone.”
“But he’s not.” I looked at Neville.
The mayor shrugged. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I just wanted to help my wife.”
“Shut up!” He had taken a beautiful love and turned it into a horror show. “Your wife will hate what you’ve become. She’ll never forgive you.” The words were fiercer than a fist strike.
“Sunny, who are you talking to?” Farraday asked.
Babe walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I sank into his embrace. “Neville.” I pointed again. He was in a different place in the room.
“He’s dead,” Farraday said. “A bullet to the head.”
I snuggled deeper into Babel’s warm arms. “I know.” At least about the dead part.
Billy Bob put Chav into a medically induced coma so he could reset all her injuries, and they were extensive and terrible. She’d been reluctant to tell me everything they’d done to her, and I worried it would be a while before the emotional and psychological scars would heal. In the meantime, I’d promised Rose Ann Corman I’d help her with one last thing, and that last thing pertained to her son and husband.
While Babel wasn’t real happy about me spending more time with the good shaman-doc, though he had zero reason to lose sleep over the doc now, he agreed to play nice and keep his mouth shut while we were there. Jo Jo was still in the clinic bed. He’d had internal injuries from the accident, and they were taking their time healing. I felt bad. If it hadn’t been for me, he’d have never gotten hurt in the first place. After interrogating the “keepers”, we’d found out that Neville had arranged for that SUV to do more than scare us. It was one of the compound Suburbans, and Sheila had been the driver. Jo Jo and I were lucky to have survived.
I’d called Billy Bob from Babel’s house, where I’d stayed the night before, and told him about Sheila, Neville, and Rose Ann. I wanted him to ease the way for me with her family.
Billy Bob Smith was in full shaman mode. He wore his leather pants, his face and body painted like when I’d first seen him. And now that I knew he wasn’t some really old guy, it was kind of hot. Babel stayed with me when I went inside to Jo Jo’s room. I needed his support. I didn’t think I could make it through the next couple of minutes without him.
Brady Corman looked sober and miserable; his hands were shaking as he sat next to his son’s bed. Since Brady didn’t verbally or physically attack me when I entered the room, I figured even if he didn’t believe, Billy Bob at least had calmed him enough to keep him civil.
“He’s trying,” Billy Bob said. “It’s not been easy. I’ve given him some herbs to stave off his thirst for alcohol, but it doesn’t really help with the detoxification process much.”
Jo Jo looked almost frightened, but the idea of your ghost mom coming to call would be enough to unnerve even the strongest kid.
Rose Ann stood by me and looked on at her broken family, so much grief and love in her expression.
Billy Bob lit a rolled-up thing that looked like a big marijuana joint. A contact high certainly couldn’t hurt at this point. When it started burning, though, I realized it was sage, a whole different kind of weed.
He took it around to the corners of the room, chanting quietly while he waved the smoke with his free hand. When he was finished, he told me to begin.
I looked at Rose Ann. “Okay, you’re on.”
She walked to Jo Jo’s bedside and touched the gold heart necklace he was wearing. The teenager’s eyes widened, and his hand went to his chest.
“Tell Jo Jo, I’m so proud of the man he’s turning into.”
“Your mom’s proud of you,” I said. “She thinks you’re turning into a fine man.”
“Also, I like his haircut and the dyed spots. He really pulls it off.”
I smiled. “She likes your hair,” I said when he raised a questioning brow.
“I’ve missed you so much. If there had been any way I could have come back to you, to both of you,” she said to her boys, “I would have.”
Tears welled in my eyes, and I didn’t know if I’d get through this whole process. I didn’t know how Melinda Gordon had managed it every week and into syndication. “Rose Ann’s sorry she’s missed so much of your lives. She wants you to know she’d have been here if it had been within her ability to do so.”
Brady Corman choked back a sob, and damned if I wasn’t going to follow suit.
“Tell Brady…” She touched his face with her fingers. “Tell him he’s the only man I ever loved, and the only man who could take my breath. I want him to be the man I fell for all those years ago. The man he needs to be for our son.”
I didn’t even want to try paraphrasing her words on that one, so I repeated it back to Brady verbatim. His whole shell collapsed then as he wept openly.
“It must have been terrible what you went through. I should have been there. I should have saved you.” I could see the shame of his years without her hitting him square between the eyes.
“You couldn’t have done anything to save her, Brady. Rose Ann doesn’t want you to blame yourself. She wants you to be happy.”
“I miss you, Rose Ann.” His voice cracked. “I miss you so bad.”
I was turning into a big puddle of mush, and when Jo Jo took his father’s hand in comfort, Babel took mine, and I let the tears fall.
She kissed them both and turned to me. “I’m ready now.”
I nodded. “Rose Ann has to go.”
Father and son grieved together as they released the anger they felt towards the world, themselves, and each other.
Rose Ann turned to light. Then she was gone.
Babel and I left Jo Jo and Brady to grieve their loss. At least this time, they had closure, but I wasn’t sure how much of a consolation it really was. When we walked outside, the scent of pine and fresh cut grass in the air, Babel wrapped his arms around me from behind and nuzzled my ear. “What’s on your mind?”
How could I tell him that now the mystery of Judah disappearance had been solved, and now that Chavvah was safe, I was scared about the future—a future without him. It seemed ridiculous and petty in the wake of what I’d witness with the Corman family.
“Babe, what will you do next?”
He turned me in his arms and stared down at me. “Next when?”
“After Peculiar. I know this isn’t the life you want. You have things you want to do, dreams you want to pursue, that don’t include staying here.”
His gaze grew increasingly intense. “You’re a fool of a woman, Sunny Haddock.” He dipped his head and pressed his lips to mine as he pulled my body into his chest. My feet dangled as he kissed me good and thoroughly. He cupped my face. “Dreams change.
Happiness happens. And the only thing I want to be doing in the
future is you.”
I turned my head and kissed the palm of his hand. “You’re such a romantic.”
He brushed my hair back from my face. “Damn it, woman. Don’t you know by now that I love you? If you don’t, then let me say it again. I love you.” My breath caught in my throat. My heart fluttered.
“Are you going to pass out again?”
“Not this time.”
“Then what’s wrong. You look pale.”
I took a deep breath and laughed. “You love me.”
“Yes,” he said. A smile replaced his worry. “I surely do.”
“Good.” I kissed him, enjoying the way his arms felt around me. “I love you too.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
IT HAD BEEN a little over a month since Chav’s rescue, when we put out our “open for business” sign just in time for Labor Day Weekend. We’d turned the restaurant into a vegetarian deli with a side of palm reading. I wiped the counters and made sure the place looked perfect. Chavvah had healed physically thanks to Billy Bob, though she still woke at night screaming sometimes.
Several people from town helped us to really pull the place together with painting, plumbing, refinishing the floor, and decorating the small bathroom. Even Ruth’s son Tyler. He was totally warming up to me. And watching her son Taylor—who was a little thinner and a lot more pleasant than his twin—with Eldin Farraday, I was pretty sure why he hadn’t settled down with a woman.
Soon, the whole town, on this holiday weekend, would be traipsing in and out for our very first potluck hosting. I still couldn’t believe we’d volunteered. Talk about pressure!
Neville’s crimes had rocked the small community, and we would all need time to heal. They voted to bury his head away from his body, along with Sheila, as an eternal punishment. Way harsh, but poetic. Rest in pieces, Neville Lutjen.
The sheriff, through some legwork, found out where the hunters were located. The Kansas City Star reported that three businessmen, John Weatherly, Carl Perkins, and Samuel Wheeldon died in a fire at a private property in Lake Ozarks in early July. Shifter justice had been swift in their case.
Brady Corman checked himself into a rehab center finally. He’s getting the help he needs now, and even better, I think he really wants it. Jo Jo’s staying with me and Chav at her cabin until Brady comes back home. We manage without getting in each other’s way too much. Besides, it’s short-term, and I spend most of my nights and mornings at the apartment over the restaurant with Babe.
The bodies, what was left of them, were returned to their families for proper burials or ritual pyres. I tried to attend all the local funerals as a courtesy, but as my psychic ability develops, strong emotions like those nearly put me on my knees.
But today, I told myself, I am going to think happy thoughts. The memorial for the twelve victims is being revealed on the courthouse lawn. It is going to be an event to both celebrate the lives of the hunted therianthropes and mourn their passing. A way for them to always be remembered. Billy Bob had blessed the groundbreaking.
The memorial, called Twelve Wandering Souls, is beautiful garden set off to the side of the courthouse in a large clearing. It has flower and herb beds surrounded by short marble walls, each dedicated to one of the dead. Jo Jo, Chavvah, Babe, and I all helped with the planting.
The interim mayor, Babel Trimmel, is going to officiate the ceremony. Since he has a college education and a degree in public relations, he was perfect for the job, even if it still bothered me that he might be happier somewhere else.
I felt his presence even before he reached his arms around me and kissed my ear.
“You okay?”
“Now I am,” I said, stroking his arms with my fingers.
“Gah!” Chav shouted from the kitchen area. “Get a room, you two.” She’d been happy for Babel and me, but it didn’t mean she wanted our hanky-panky thrown in her face.
He just tightened his hold on me and said, “I love you, Sunny Haddock.”
And finally, I believed in a happy ending just for me. “Oh, Babe,” I whispered against his neck. “I love you, too.”
“Jeezus!” Chavvah shouted, throwing a wet kitchen towel at us and turning on the open sign. “Don’t make me break out the hose.”
Babel and I smiled at her. My heart wanted to burst from my chest. I was in love with a man who loved me. Only me. I held out my hand to his sister, my best friend, and she took it.
“Okay, girl. Let’s get this party started.”
The End
The series continues with
My Furry Valentine
* * *
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About the Author
I am a USA Today Bestselling author who writes paranormal mysteries and romances because I love all things whodunit, Otherworldly, and weird. Also, I wish my pittie, the adorable Kona Princess Warrior, and my beagle, Josie the Incontinent Princess, could talk. Or at least be more like Scooby-Doo and help me unmask villains at the haunted house up the street.
When I'm not writing about mystery-solving werecougars or the adventures of a hapless psychic living among shapeshifters, I am preyed upon by stray kittens who end up living in my house because I can't say no to those sweet, furry faces. (Someone stop telling them where I live!)
I live in Mid-Missouri with my family and I spend my non-writing time doing really cool stuff...like watching TV and cleaning up dog poop.
www.renee-george.com
Her Demigod Complex by Abigail Owen
Legendary Consultants Book One
Abigail Owen
Chapter One
“Lyleia, will you please come in here?”
Lyleia, who went by Leia to everyone but her boss, winced at the harsh tone in her boss’s voice over the intercom. She had a good idea what his mood was about, since she’d put through a call from an irate blonde—the latest in a line of Castor Dioskouri’s dates. The women he saw didn’t stick around long enough to be called girlfriends. Holding up a finger to the man standing on the other side of her desk, she pressed the intercom button. “I have Mike Morgan with me. Five minutes?”
Silence.
She gave Castor another few seconds, then, assuming her boss was okay with waiting, lifted her gaze to the head lawyer of Dioskouri Enterprises. She held out her hand to accept the paperwork he’d brought. “Thanks, Mike. I’ll get his signature and have this back to you by end of day.”
She tucked the files neatly away and stood. She smoothed down her grey pencil skirt and white buttoned blouse and patted her shoulder length blond hair in place. Then she disconnected her computer from the docking station.
But Mike didn’t leave. Instead, he casually hitched a hip on her desktop, pushing papers around. Leia held in a sigh as her fingers itched to fix the small upset to her perfectly ordered work station.
“When are you going to go out with me?” Mike asked with what she was sure most women found to be a charming smile. The lawyer, while excellent at his job, was a player with a capital P. Not her style at all.
“When are you going to stop asking?” She gave him a gentle push to get off her desk and came around the side to head into Castor’s office.
Mike got up but didn’t make a move to leave. “Just one little date?”
She shook her head, amused despite herself, and pointed at the door. “Shoo.”
“Friday?”
“Mike. Did you need something?”
The dark rumble of a voice sounded behind her, and Leia spun on her heel to find Castor standing in the doorway, his usual easy smile nowhere to be seen.
“I was dropping off the Metro paperwork for your signature.” Mike strolled to the door. “See you later, Leia.”
She nodded, but otherwise didn’t pay attention to his departure. Her entire focus was on the man standing in front of her. Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t begin to cover the pure energy and power radiating from his lean form. As had happened from her first day
working for him, Castor’s presence pulled a visceral response from her.
Why the hell can’t I turn off my body around him? She’d debated the reason every day for the last year, ever since Legendary Consultants placed her in the job as Castor’s Executive Assistant. After all, as a nymph with her history, she’d been able to turn off every other god and demigod to cross her path for thousands of years. Why not this one?
Maybe her problem was she also liked him as a person. That was a new experience when it came to his breed, and she’d come across all types in her time—weres, witches, demigods, demons, and creatures even human mythology had never uncovered.
Just as she had every other day, she ruthlessly tamped down her reaction to him. She needed this job. And she despised anything to do with gods or demigods. Right? Even six-foot-three, Armani suit wearing, chiseled temptation with blue eyes and a wicked smile.
Not that he was smiling. Right now, he practically glared at her, but he always got cranky after he ended things with a girlfriend—and he was the one who always ended it.
She stepped forward, assuming he’d move out of the way to usher her into his office. Only he didn’t, and now she was very much in his space, inhaling the spice of his aftershave and the fresh air scent of his skin. The heat radiating from him penetrated both his suit and her clothes. Demigods ran hot, something about all that supernatural power. When she was a young nymph, she’d imagined it would be nice to snuggle up to one in a pond, like her own walking hot springs generator. But that had been before.
Instead of getting out of her way, Castor leaned forward, crowding her more. “Does Mike bother you often?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Mike doesn’t bother me at all.” She was proud her words hadn’t come out all husky and needy sounding, because her body had lit from within having him this close.
My Paranormal Valentine: A Paranormal Romance Box Set Page 81