My Paranormal Valentine: A Paranormal Romance Box Set

by Michelle M. Pillow

Mel sobered. “Maybe we should go inside. Are the others around?”

  “No. Did you want me to make some calls?”

  Mel shook her head. “That’s good. I was hoping to keep this just between you and me.”

  Callie dropped her hand to her side. “This isn’t about sex with your Guardian?”

  Mel chuckled. “I already told you that part of the night was incredible. No need for counseling there. But I do need a little perspective on something else.”

  “Tease,” she grumbled, going back inside the house.

  Mel followed her into the den. Callie took a seat behind the desk, and Mel settled in the other chair. “Nate had an abusive, alcoholic father,” she told her friend.

  “Wow.” Callie’s expression softened as she got up and came around the desk. “He shared that with you already?”

  Mel laced her fingers together, staring at her hands. “He was careful not to let me turn on the light during sex.” She lifted her gaze. “I guess I should back up to the part where his partner, Detective Gilman, warned me that Nate isn’t a relationship guy.”

  “That makes sense.” Callie nodded. “Physical abuse by a parent when you’re a child often makes it difficult for an adult to trust. If he’s never been to therapy, then he’s probably still keeping others at a distance, protecting himself on some level.”

  “I gave him the option to take me home last night. You know, after. For a second, I thought he’d take it, but then he didn’t.”

  Callie leaned against the edge of her desk. “And then he shared about his father?”

  “No.” Mel glanced out the window, trying not to see the burns all over his chiseled torso in her head. “I saw all the scars when I woke up this morning, and I asked about them.”

  “Oh.” Callie nearly winced.

  “That doesn’t look like a good face.”

  “Well, at least he told you and didn’t just pack you up in the car and drive you home.” She shook her head slowly. “But if he kept the light off and doesn’t usually let dates sleep over, you might be the first woman he’s had to confront the scars with.”

  It wasn’t tough to connect the dots. “Shit. You’re trying to tell me I may not see him again, aren’t you?” Her heart twisted, and in a sick way, her inner muse drank in the pain.

  “It’s always the worst-case scenario with you.” Callie swiped her hand in the air. “I’m not saying he’s running, but you might need to give him space. And time to come to you.” Her voice softened. “As a child, he had no control and no way to protect himself. Now he’s an adult who can be sure he never lets his guard down enough to be hurt again.”

  “I’m not going to hurt him.”

  Callie sighed, crossing her feet at the ankles. “Sadly, that has very little to do with it. After one night of sex, he slipped up. He let you stay over and you saw the scars. He opened up more than he intended, and now he’s vulnerable. If you push, he’ll cut you out of his life. Probably permanently.”

  Mel huffed out a slow breath, staring at her hands in her lap.

  Callie straightened up. “It’s the little boy in him making these emotional decisions. You’ll have to be patient for the man to come around and realize he’s safe with you.”

  “So texting him to see if I can move in would be a bad idea?”

  Callie chuckled. “If you’re ready to move in with him after one night, then that really was some incredible sex.”

  The corner of Mel’s lips curved up. “The gods gave me a gift when they marked Nate for me.” The smile faded as quickly as it appeared. “But where were they when he needed them most?”

  Nate’s hands were sweating by the time he dropped Mel off at Callie’s place, his gut tied in knots. She’d seen the goddamn scars. He shouldn’t give a shit. He’d lived. His dad hadn’t touched him in twenty years. It should all be behind him.

  But somewhere in his sick head, whenever he looked at the damned things, he still heard his father’s sloppy voice. You’re nothing. Waste of skin. Nothing.

  One look in the mirror and he was seven years old again.

  When he had his shirt on, the little boy was gone. He was Detective Nate Malone and even badass criminals didn’t mess with him. So why was he so fucking shaken up about Melanie Jacoby?

  Her pep talk about the scars making him a survivor was kind. He got it, but deep down, they were a physical reminder that he couldn’t protect himself. Hell, he’d failed Maggie and her mother, too. And now he was supposed to keep Mel safe?

  He walked up the cracked cement walk to the yellow-stuccoed home and rapped his knuckles on the door. Mrs. Gaines answered. “Detective Malone! Great to see you.”

  Her silver hair was pulled back into a clip as she opened the door wider. From the back of the modest tract home, Maggie squealed. Mrs. Gaines, her foster mother, smiled, years of warm laughter lining her eyes. He’d been so lucky to get Maggie placed with her. The first two homes were… Well, he didn’t want to think about it.

  Nate stepped inside, mustering a smile. “Looking gorgeous today, Mrs. Gaines.”

  She grinned, swatting his arm playfully. “You’re a fine liar.”

  From his easy chair in front of the football game, Mr. Gaines chuckled. “Someday my bride has to learn to accept an honest compliment.”

  Maggie raced toward Nate then, slamming against his legs and holding him tightly. He bent to scoop her up, drinking in her giggles. “Ready for mini golf?”

  “Yes!” Her gap-toothed grin was a balm to his reopened old wounds. Freckles dusted her cheeks and nose, and her bright-green eyes made it impossible to resist smiling.

  “Good.” He turned to Mrs. Gaines. “Is it all right if we grab burgers afterward?”

  “Sure.”

  “One less mouth to feed,” Mr. Gaines called.

  His wife chuffed, swiping her hand in his direction. “Old coot.” She patted Maggie’s knee. “Have a wonderful time.”

  Nate pulled into a parking spot at the Family Fun Center and glanced over at his tiny passenger. “I think you’re going to be a natural.”

  Maggie nodded slowly, giving it plenty of thought. “I think I will, too, because Mrs. Bunny says I’m a graceful ballerina with cord-nation.”

  He struggled to keep a straight face. “Mrs. Bunny is a smart lady.”

  “Best ballet teacher ever.” Maggie unbuckled her seat belt and opened the booster seat. “Thanks for getting me in dance class, Uncle Nate.”

  He blinked. He’d asked Mrs. Gaines not to mention that he’d paid for the classes. Over the past two years, he’d fallen for little Maggie, but she deserved a family with a mom and a loving dad this time. A single police detective wasn’t the stable family life a little girl needed.

  He hoped she’d be adopted. But some parts of him, selfish parts, were glad he still got to be her “uncle.”

  After carefully selecting their colored golf balls, they headed for the first hole. Nate gave Maggie a club and stood behind her, leaning over her tiny frame to show her how to hold the club and gently tap her golf ball. Her first shot bounced off the brick beside the ramp and came right back. She turned her face up to him. “Do I get another chance?”

  “All the chances you need.”

  If only life were like that…

  By the third hole, Maggie was getting the hang of it. Mrs. Bunny had been right. The little girl was definitely coordinated. He was careful to miss some putts just to keep the game close, and when she beat him by two strokes, her joy made it all worthwhile.

  Maggie bounced around, riding her golf club like a wooden pony. “I did it. I golfed!”

  “Yes, you did.” He chuckled and collected the clubs.

  “Can we go back to your house for dinner?”

  He mussed her hair. “Sure thing, kid.”

  They got drive-through burgers, and they carried their bounty to his condo. When he unlocked the door, Maggie rushed directly to his fridge and tugged the door open.

  “My gummy worms!” She held
up the bag, grinning.

  He set the fast-food on the table, struggling to hold back a smile. “I told you I wouldn’t eat them.”

  “Yeah, but sometimes adults get hungry.” She put her gummy worms beside her burger and sat at the little dining room table. She looked down at the papers spread across the tabletop. “Are you catching bad guys?”

  “I’m trying.” He moved the DMV list off the table and pulled out a chair. “How’s school going?”

  She chomped a healthy bite of burger, hummed with glee, and finally answered. “School is good. My teacher is nice.”

  “You have lots of friends?”

  Her cheery expression faltered, and his chest tightened up.

  “Not yet,” she said softly.

  This was her third new school since she lost her mom. He cleared his throat. “You will. Give it time.”

  She nibbled on a French fry and stared directly into his soul. “Do you have lots of friends?”

  Sometimes her simple questions were far from simple. “I have enough.”

  “Do you take them to min-ature golf, too?”

  The image of Mel putting a plastic ball into a dragon’s mouth popped in his head. He smirked. “Nope. Just you.”

  She groaned. “Uncle Nate, you should take them to fun things. Then they’ll like you.”

  He chuckled and tweaked her nose playfully. “Is that the secret?”

  She grinned and shrugged. “I dunno.” She slurped on her straw and set the cup down. “Will you come to my class and talk about your work?”

  Her rapid change in subject had him thinking about his muse again. “You’d probably have to ask the teacher.”

  She sighed and lifted her green eyes up to meet his. “Everyone is bringing a mommy or daddy. My turn is next week.”

  Oh Christ. “I’d be honored, Maggie,” he said before tears filled her eyes. “Just tell me when. I’ll be there.”

  She ran around the table to hug him. He returned the embrace, wishing like hell he could give her more than an hour in front of her class.

  If he could go back in time, he would. In a heartbeat.

  Chapter Ten

  He watched her with binoculars from across the parking lot. Catching the Muse of Astronomy off guard had been simple. Pick a lock, wait for the right moment, and then help her down the stairs.

  But now the muses were on alert. Security cameras were being installed around the dilapidated theater, and the Muse of Tragic Poetry had moved in with another partner in Muses Anonymous, Callie, who, judging by the way she seemed to take charge of the group, he was beginning to suspect was the Muse of Epic Poetry.

  She’d also spent an evening with Detective Malone. Ben had taken pictures of them leaving the detective’s condo. The photos might come in handy later. He couldn’t rush his work. Rushing led to sloppiness, and sloppy wasn’t going to lead them into the Golden Age of Man.

  He’d be patient. Learn her routines and plot his course accordingly.

  Her death would be poetic and beautiful, just like she was. He’d see to that.

  Melanie Jacoby got into her car and drove away. He noted the time and tossed his binoculars on the passenger seat to follow her. Soon they’d meet face-to-face. Very soon.

  Mel left her purse in Callie’s guestroom and tried not to notice it had been two days since she’d watched Nate drive away. No phone calls, or texts, or drive-bys. Nothing.

  And she might’ve had chocolate for lunch. Nothing but chocolate.

  “Enough,” she grumbled under her breath. She popped her shoes off and headed out to find Callie. Being alone made it too easy to wallow. Seriously, she’d known this guy for a week, and had only met him because her friend died at the bottom of their steps.

  Not exactly the chick flick meet-cute to sweep a girl off her feet.

  But she wasn’t like other girls. In a twisted way, tragedy was the trail to her heart. And somehow Nate Malone had navigated that path.

  And he was already gone.

  Callie was on the phone when Mel entered the kitchen. She smiled and waved as she chattered, and Mel picked up an orange and started peeling. She had forty more term papers to read and grade, but she couldn’t focus right now. They could wait an hour.

  Callie hung up and leaned on the counter beside her. “The security company finished installing the cameras at the theater. They’ll be monitoring them, but they’re e-mailing me a link so we can spy remotely, too.”

  Mel chuckled. “Other than pigeons getting busy, I’m not sure what there will be to spy on. Whoever planted the explosives isn’t going to come back. Not now that the police are looking for them.”

  “You don’t know that. They could be desperate.”

  Mel smirked. “You’re the psychologist here. If these wackos are part of a Kronos cult or something, they’re probably intelligent, right? Kronos isn’t exactly well-known anymore. They’d need to research. And if they think attacking the theater and us will punish Zeus, then they’re misguided, but not stupid. It makes sense on paper. But no way would they risk coming back and getting put in jail. They’ll try another tactic.”

  Callie raised her eyebrows and nodded slowly. “Look who’s becoming a profiler. I’m impressed.”

  Mel buffed her nails on her shirt. “I accept tips.” She sobered. “Flip side? They succeeded with Nia. I’d assume they’ll be gunning for another one of us. If Nate’s right and they have a list of the LLC owners, we could all be wearing targets on our backs.”

  “At least you have a Guardian.”

  Mel focused on her orange. “Not sure I still do.”

  Callie sighed. “Still no word?”

  “Nope.” Mel popped a piece in her mouth. “Giving him space doesn’t seem to be working.”

  Callie came closer and clasped her shoulder. “Don’t let that muse take over. You’re doing the right thing. He’ll get in touch when he’s ready. You’ll see.”

  “I shouldn’t even care. I’ve enjoyed an exciting one-night stand before.”

  “This was more.”

  “It was to me.” Mel pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. “I’m an idiot.”

  Callie went into the kitchen. “You’re not an idiot. You’re a romantic. Big difference.”

  “Pfft. More like a glutton for punishment.”

  Callie grinned. “No wonder you’re hooked on this detective. You two are probably a match made in heaven.”

  Mel rolled her eyes. “The gods have a sick sense of humor.”

  John’s meeting with Belkin Oil had turned up another dead end. No Lewis Gold on payroll. No way to prove they were involved.

  Nate rubbed his forehead. “We need to bring the dockworker back in. See if we can get a physical description of this ‘Lewis Gold’. He’s our only lead right now.”

  John nodded. “I’ll get a sketch artist in with him and see if we can find this guy.” He paused. “You okay?”

  Nate dropped his hand to the desk. “Yeah.” He tipped his chair back, lowering his voice. “I’m visiting Maggie’s class tomorrow.”

  He raised a brow. “What for? Someone picking on her? I thought this was a better school.”

  “Nothing like that. It’s bring-your-parent-to-class month. She asked me if I’d come since…”

  “Her dad is in jail.”

  Nate nodded slowly. “And her mom is dead.”

  John shook his head. “You were cleared on that whole deal, Malone. Let it go.”

  He stared up at his partner, and other than Mel, his only friend—if he could even call Mel a friend. “Being cleared of wrongdoing doesn’t bring her mother back.”

  “Neither will going to her class.”

  “She can’t be the only one who doesn’t have anyone to share. I won’t let that happen.”

  “What about her foster parents?”

  Nate sighed. “She asked me, John. How can I tell her no?”

  John rubbed his chin. “You’re in way too deep on this one.”

  “I kn
ow.” He sighed, focusing on his desk. “But I’m all she has left.”

  Nate finished the paperwork in the stacking file on his desk and left the station. He headed right for the beach. Ever since Mel had slept over at his place, his mind was jumbled, his heart hurt, and he couldn’t get her out of his head. He’d lost count of how many times he’d picked up his cell phone to call, but he hadn’t done it. He’d told her secrets he never wanted anyone to know, and he had no clue how to get back on level ground with her.

  What if she thought less of him now? If there was a trace of pity in her eyes, he’d vomit. So rather than risk it, he’d been trying to push her out of his thoughts.

  But his goddamn shoulder burned again. “Fuck it.”

  He tugged his cell from his pocket and stared at her number. What if she saw his name and ignored the call? He opted for a text. No chance of voice mail, or worse, having her answer with sympathy in her smoky voice.

  Hey Mel. I’m a hell of a Guardian. You have every right to hate me, but if by some crazy chance you don’t…text me back.

  He put the phone away and pulled in a long, slow breath of the ocean air. The waves always gave him a sense of calm, reminded him that his problems were small in comparison. And no matter how hard the waves crashed, they always came back to try again.

  His phone buzzed.

  He took it out again, and a smile tugged at his lips.

  Crazy chance was all it said.

  He placed a heavy finger on her name, and the phone rang.

  “Long time, no see. Well, not really a long time,” Mel said with a small laugh. “Felt long, though.”

  “Too long.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, staring at the water. “Sorry. It’s not you, I just…”

  “Let’s not do this on the phone.” Her keys jingled in the background. “I forgot something at school, and I was on my way over to grab it. Want to meet me there?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Perfect. See you soon.” She hung up, and he glanced at the screen.

  They talked for less than two minutes, but in that time, he didn’t catch a trace of pity or judgment. She was just Mel. And dammit, he missed her. His muse.