by Ann Denton
He smiles softly. A little sadly maybe. But I’m really not awake, so how am I supposed to tell?
“I watched everything.”
I nod, rubbing my eyes, scooting over on the couch so he can sit. I feel my cheek, the velvet pattern of the couch has left squiggle marks all over it. Gorgeous. Great.
“Nice work with the spy cam. What made you think of that?”
“Runes. His tattoos could have anti-spy spell runes in them.” I think back to my cellmate and his advice on runes. I wonder if Luke would let me photograph his tattoos with an infrared camera. The idea of him taking off his shirt and letting me take photos momentarily sidetracks me. Why did I turn him down again? Oh right. Murder investigation. Suspect. Focus.
Bennett grins. “I think you might need some caffeine. I’ll make coffee.”
I blush as he leaves. I’m so, so glad he cannot read my dirty mind. I decide I need to move a bit to wake up more, so I stand. “What time is it?”
“Four a.m.”
I stretch. When I head toward the kitchen, Bennett’s standing frozen, his hands on the coffee bag, staring at me.
I give him a quizzical look. He snaps out of it and hastily starts pouring coffee into the machine. “You did good work,” he mutters. “There are a lotta people with a lot of reasons to hate Georgina right now.”
“I know. I hope if I’m ever murdered, it’s not this hard to solve.” I hop up onto the counter before I remember I’m in a short skirt.
Bennett’s dazed look returns and I get an inkling about why he froze before.
I snap in his face as I adjust my skirt. “Excuse me, co-worker. We were starting a conversation about suspects.”
He turns bright red. Ha. So I was right. He was gawking.
He fumbles with my cabinets, searching for coffee cups. I could help him out, but I decide I’m enjoying his discomfort too much.
“So, I showed you mine. Your turn.”
He whips around when I say that, eyes wide. I can see a flash of heat in them before he gasps, “What?” I bet if I touched his skin right now, he’d be blazing hot.
“What evidence have you picked up so far? Who’ve you interviewed? What’s the working theory?”
He takes a deep breath to calm himself before he responds.
“I’ve talked to her parents. And I’m not supposed to discuss the case with a suspect.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not really a suspect.”
He shrugs. “You knew her.”
“More like knew of her. It’s not like she hung out with high school kids when I dated …” It’s hard for me to say Alec’s name, even now. I don’t know at this point if it’s because I kept him a secret so long, or if it’s just always hard to think of your first heartbreak.
“The parents are weird.” Bennett caves. I’m not sure why, exactly. But I do his silence thing. That tactic that lets the silence stretch out until the weaker person has to fill it. And he does. “The mom, I dunno if she drank someone who was high or what, but she kept dodging questions. ‘I’m not sure.’ ‘I don’t remember exactly.’ ‘Are we done?’” He mocks her in a falsetto that would make any choir boy proud.
I frown. “I don’t remember her being a ditz.”
“She’s not. She’s an engineer. Socially awkward I’d get, but it was like she couldn’t remember-”
I interject. “Like maybe she’d been given something to forget? Like maybe unicorn horn?”
Bennett pours our coffees and sweetens mine. “That’s what I was thinking, yeah.”
“So, someone killed Georgina and erased her mom’s memory. Is there an antidote for unicorn horn?”
“Nope. Not that I’ve found. It’s crazy hard to get, since unicorns are so protective of their magic.”
I shake my head at him. “I’m disappointed. There was totally opportunity for a dirty joke there. And you dodged it.”
“Well, co-worker,” Bennett snipes back. “I’m trying to keep this conversation focused.”
“On long pointed objects that can make women forget their own name?”
He sighs. “Do you want me to tell you any more or are you gonna keep doing that?”
“Doing what?” I bat my eyes. Bennett tosses a dishrag at my face.
“Mr. Knight was monosyllabic. Yes, no answers only. Also suspicious. You know what else? They’re making us get a search warrant to get into Georgina’s apartment. They wouldn’t just let us in. Why wouldn’t parents want to help us find their daughter’s killer?” He hands me a steaming coffee mug.
I take a sip of perfectly-made, sweet coffee. “You know why. Because they might be helping her killer.”
“They might be the killers themselves.”
I sigh and raise a hand to my forehead ala Southern damsel in distress. “Why Bennett, whatever will we do? Our list of suspects is a mile long. Everyone who knew Georgina wanted to kill her. Maybe we should just let bygones be bygones.”
Bennett growls at that. It’s a hot sound, and my eyes meet his. For a moment, attraction flares in both our eyes.
He turns away first. And I’m hit by a sharp pang of rejection. But I shouldn’t be, right? I shouldn’t care at all. Because I have a hot-as-sin vamp that I started seeing (and hope to keep seeing if he is not-after-all a murderer). And it’s been years. I should have better armor than this. I play it off like it didn’t happen.
“So, what next?” I go for casual, taking another sip of coffee.
“I want you to stay at my place.” Bennett’s response has me spraying coffee across the room.
“What?”
Calmly, he picks up the dishrag and wipes his face as though it’s no big deal he just got hit with molten sugar water. “You lost your keys, right?”
“What else is new?”
He narrows his eyes. “You’ve never lost your keys on a date with a known gangster before, Lyon. Luke Hawkins is under suspicion for trafficking, gambling, money laundering, and a whole list of things I don’t even want to say.”
I narrow my eyes in response. “One, I lose my keys at least once a day. Two, if he’s suspected of those things but hasn’t been arrested, it’s because you have no evidence.”
Bennett’s growl is back. “You’re gonna write it off because we can’t prove it yet? Or because you’re hot for him? Tell me, does that make sense, Ly-ly?” He’s angry, and steps forward, forcing me to look up at him.
Oh man. So ninety percent of the time, the dominance thing just pisses me off. But when a guy is all worked up over your safety… whew, call the fire department. Because I think my panties just spontaneously combusted. I can’t help myself. I have to ask, “Why do you care, Bennett?”
A look I can’t read passes over his face. He doesn’t answer but puts a hand on my arm. It’s blazing hot. Which means he’s just as worked up as I am. “Pack your bags. Now.”
And I do. Because if there will ever be a repeat of that moment, where his finger leaves a gentle trail of fire down my arm, it’ll be worth another breakup. Seriously. I almost orgasmed right then.
That leaves my thoughts buzzing like idiot flies in my head. They say things like, ‘Wow, murder is cool.’ And ‘If the end result is two hot guys, maybe you should get arrested more often.’ I decide I need my coffee to go since my brain is spewing such nonsense. I drop my bags in the kitchen and grab a travel mug when two arms circle my waist.
“No time.”
“What?” I try not to go weak at the knees. Which is very hard.
“Luke Hawkins is on the sidewalk out front. We’re going out the balcony.”
I freeze. “He’s here to break into my place?”
“I set up your spy-cam again. If he does, we’ll figure out exactly what he wants.”
With that, Bennett scoops me into his arms. He grabs my travel bag and tosses it onto my lap. He throws open my rear balcony doors. And then, in full sight of Tabby and Mrs. Snow, who are walking across the lawn below, he shifts.
His clothes shred as his skin turns into black s
cales lined with red, and as his face morphs into a fierce fire-breathing dragon. I feel the changes because he keeps me pressed against his hard chest the entire time. Mmm… I can see why Mrs. Snow and Tabby love to watch. But being right next to the action, caught up in the magical vortex of his change. It’s indescribable. I don’t have time to describe it anyway, because a second after he’s done shifting, Bennett spreads his wings and we’re off.
Chapter 12
Being swept away to Bennett's place is not at all like the romantic getaway I first pictured when he said he wanted me to stay with him. First of all, flying in a dragon’s claws is an experience I do not recommend. Even though he’s cradling me like a baby, his claws are sharp. Super ouch.
Second, I realize Bennett's not taking me to his stone cottage near the caves. He's bringing me somewhere I've never been before.
Apparently, Bennett now lives in a brownstone town home better suited for the East Coast than the California sunshine. It's part of Fire Row, an old housing development for dragons. A lot of the more ancient dragons and the New Age dragons prefer the caves back in the hills. Most dragon clans, including Ben’s, talk up the 'traditional life.'
It's only the more type-A businessy dragons like Bennett that live here. Hence the unkempt lawns. I mean, really, who works and has still has time to mow? I get it. But the overgrown shrubs make the block look haunted, not welcoming, in the pre-dawn light.
“Well this is … scenic.” I comment sarcastically. I turn and look up at him. “I didn’t think you’d ever leave that cottage. I thought you liked it there.” It had never been my favorite, all his family members just dropping by without an invite, but Bennett had loved being surrounded by them. I’m surprised by the move. Makes me wonder what his new place is like.
Bennett lands on the roof, shifts, and brings me down a set of stairs. His door opens after he speaks a password in Drakon, the dragon language.
He helps, a.k.a. shoves, me inside in front of him. Apparently, I don't walk fast enough for him. Can a girl help it if a naked guy with a six pack is a distraction? I swear I didn’t look on purpose. (Not like it's anything I haven't seen before anyway.) But I'm trying to maintain some kind of professionalism here. Unlike Mr. Shovey-hands.
I roll my eyes once we’re in his living/kitchen area, pull out a kitchen chair, and stare pointedly at the wall as he walks to his room to change.
I hear a bleating and turn to see a lamb tied to a ring in the corner of the kitchen. Floor to ceiling around the lamb is stone, scorched black. I’d better not be here through dinner. That’s all I know.
I pat Lambie on the head and decide to wander to the couch instead of further befriending Bennett’s future meal.
The living room is a typical bachelor pad. Functional. Utilitarian. Black furniture. Beige walls and carpet. Boring.
The move didn’t lead to a major revelation on the decoration front. I wonder if Bennett’s having issues with his mom. He was always a momma’s boy. But … not my place. I’m here for work and safety reasons only.
I call out to Bennett, "So what’s our next move?"
He comes back in khakis and a T-shirt. "Sorry slugger," he ruffles my hair like he’s some annoying big brother. "You’re gonna have to sit this one out."
He did not just say that! After all that evidence I just got him?
"I just got you like one million pieces of evidence."
Bennett smiles. "Yes, but you're not an investigator."
My fury has no words.
Bennett revels for a second. Then he takes pity on me. "Look. My next move is to go talk to Saffron. Clearly she's hiding something."
"It was Matthew Boolye who wanted to hide something. Saffron told him no!"
"Which is why I'm going to talk to her first. She might still be feeling honest enough to come clean.” He grabs the keys to his front door. “You can order in.” He slides a credit card onto the kitchen counter. He chucks me across the chin and then heads to the door.
“I’m ordering a stripper!”
“As long as it’s a girl!” He yells back as he shuts and locks the door behind him.
Gah!
I cannot stand that man. Even if his naked ass is so hot it could fry pancakes.
I pull out my cell and call JR.
I don’t even greet her when she answers. I’m too desperate. “Girl time, stat.”
It’s late enough that she can slip out of the office unnoticed. I hope.
She breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh good. I was gonna call you. I got the worst news.”
“Did you get arrested for murder too?”
“What? No.”
“Then it can wait. Get your butt over to Bennett’s house and then we can talk.”
“Wait. What are you doing at Bennett’s?”
I hang up instead of answering her. I figure if nothing else, that will get Ms. Goody-good to leave the office. I text her my phone’s location. Then I use my phone to search the menu of the priciest delivery place in town.
Two delicious brown-sugar rib-eye steaks later, JR and I are sprawled across Bennett’s crappy ‘mod’ couch drinking his booze. Typical dragon, he didn’t have any sweet mix-ins, so I’ve stolen all the sugar packets from his coffee stash to make simple syrup. JR raided the fridge for limes. We’re drinking gimlets. I've added extra sugar to my drink, because gin, really Bennett? You might as well have me lick a metal pole.
JR's eyelids droop. She's listened to me rehash my entire night.
“Is it my turn yet?” she asks with a yawn.
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Go for it.”
“You are hereby required to go to dinner with me tomorrow night.”
I raise my brows. “Okay. But I thought you said you had bad news.”
“You are required to go to dinner with me and Liam tomorrow night.”
I groan. JR’s little brother Liam is a first-rate jerk. I mean bad. He's the VP at some sporting goods business in Thousand Oaks. He lives among humans, so he thinks he's the shit. Obviously, the nymph gene helps with that. It also means he prides himself on being a "catch" as though he’s done something to deserve that title. Ick. Plus a goatee. I mean really. How much more stuck in the 90’s can you get? Worst, he's always getting on JR's case about her ambition. Paralegal isn’t good enough. Not a career path.
"Basically, you're telling me I need to get drunk before dinner."
She nods. "Danny has a soccer game so he won't be able to go. There will be no buffer." Danny is her satyr boyfriend. He's on a rec-league soccer team. Think about it, a soccer team made of half-goat men? How much attention does the ball get versus the grass? I totally think it’s an excuse for a guy’s night out chewing the cud.
Danny is one of the world's nicest guys. So, he typically can keep up a conversation and prevent Liam from constantly nitpicking JR to death. I, on the other hand, have been known to get in shouting matches with Liam. Tomorrow night's gonna be a blast.
I toss my head back in a pout. “Maybe I’ll punish Bennett and make him come with me.”
JR raises an eyebrow. “Like a date?”
“No. Like a punishment for leaving me here.”
“You know when you get bossy with boys you’re actually flirting, right?”
I throw a pillow at her.
“Are you into Bennett?”
“No!” She does not look like she believes my totally authentic but totally drunken denial. It’s not my fault it came out slurred. It’s the gimlets. They’re messing with my tongue. “I don’t repeat my mistakes.”
“Maybe you guys weren’t a mistake. Maybe you were just too young,” She yawns and ignores the second pillow that misses her by a mile.
“I’m not too young. And give me back my pillow!”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Well, I’m definitely not young anymore. I’m exhausted. This old lady’s got to fly.” She grabs her phone to get a Broomer.
She ignores my hand flailing through the air, trying to catch a pillow she
most definitely hasn’t—but should have—thrown to me.
“Night, Ly-ly. Enjoy dreaming about Bennett and your hot vamp.”
My best friend leaves me drunk and helpless, in the apartment of a fire-breathing dragon man who once scorched my heart. I plot vengeance for a minute before I drift into a dreamless nap.
When I wake up half an hour later, Bennett's still not back. I decide he needs a little bit more punishment for not taking me with him. His couch sucks. My neck has a crick in it. I decide he can take the couch and I'll take the master bed. I grab my overnight bag and go into his room, locking the door behind me.
I turn around and drop my bag on my foot. "Mother duckling!" That would be my curling iron. Curse my vanity. Damn.
I kick the bag away to punish it and take a step closer to his bed. There, above the headboard, is a photo I took three years ago. He's blown it up on a canvas print. It's a beautiful picture, one I'm really proud of. A fairy child was kidnapped several years back, and I was part of the search team. Everybody had mocked me for bringing my camera along like a nerd, but I’d brought my zoom lens. I'd kept the camera trained on the ground as we combed the forest for the kid. If I hadn't, we never would've seen that delicate little wingtip. It had ripped on a broken tree branch and dangled like a spider web. It was so little. So tiny. I might not have recognized it if I hadn't had a wing obsession growing up. (Imagine that. A wingless fairy with a wing obsession. How stereotypically female of me.)
That picture helped us narrow the search. It helped us find the little girl. That picture represents one of the best moments of my life.
Why does Bennett have it blown up over his bed?
Is he sentimental? About the search? About me? Or is it only my ego that wants it to be about me?
Do I ask him about this? Is this something we should talk about? Or would that up the awkward factor even more?
I wish JR hadn't gone home.
I trash the punishment plan and shower and change. I return to the couch. I wait and wait. But Bennett doesn't come home. At least not before I drift off to sleep. Fairy wings and fruit tarts and hot tattooed vampires fill my dreams. I’m about to lick some delicious whipped cream off a bicep when my phone rings.