Deadlocked (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 3) (7 page)

“You’re awfully quiet, minx. Everything okay?” Nash
turned to look at me, taking his eyes from the road for a moment. We were on
our way home from the restaurant. I sat in the passenger seat with not one,
but two dessert doggy bags. Thank you, Nonna.

I shrugged. I had been thinking about my encounter with
Melissa. “Tell me something,” I said, shifting in my seat to give him an
appraising look.

“Sure, anything.”

“What did you think when you first saw me, that day at the park
when I found Bryce’s body?”

Nash, eyes back on the road, shifted in his seat and took a
long, slow breath. “The first thing I thought?”

“Yeah.”

“That I was going to give that beat cop a piece of my mind
for letting you use your phone while you waited.”

I huffed out a little breath. “That’s not what I meant.” I
crossed my arms and gave him an impatient look.

Nash flipped a hand off the steering wheel, palm up. “I
don’t know. I was pissed off about being called in so early in the day. We
had a bad call the night before and I hadn’t had much sleep so I wasn’t really
thinking anything except how I’d rather be back in bed. But then you looked
over at us from across the street and you had this guilty look, like you’d been
up to something. You sort of bit your lower lip and all I could think about is
what your lips tasted like.” He threw me a heated look. “Yeah, kind of like
what you’re doing now.”

I blinked and released my lip. I hadn’t realized I was
biting it. I licked my lips self-consciously and Nash growled. “And a few
minutes later, when we met face to face? What went through your mind then?” I
honestly wasn’t fishing for compliments. I just needed to know what Nash had
thought in that first moment. To me, it really felt like we’d had a
moment
when we first looked into each other’s eyes. You know, one of those ‘time
stood still’ kind of things. It sounds totally corny, but it’s true.

Nash sighed. “Do we really need to talk about this now?
What brought this on?” I gave him another pointed look. “Okay,” he replied, shaking
his head. “But you’re not going to like it.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“When I shook your hand and looked into your eyes that first time, I knew right
then that you were my mate. The moment I caught your scent my wolf knew and he
wanted you.” He put up a hand stalling my reply. “I wanted you. I thought
you were the cutest, sexiest little thing I had ever seen. You were all
flustered and trying to act all business-like babbling away, but I could hear
your heart thumping in your chest, smell your arousal. You had on that sexy
little dress and I could see straight down your cleavage well enough to know
you weren’t wearing a bra.”

I gasped in mock outrage. “You perv!” Nash gave me a
cheeky grin. I thought back to that day, remembering the look on Nash’s face.
“So why did you frown? Did it make you angry that I was your mate?”

“Angry? Harry, no!” He pulled his truck into the parking
lot behind my building. “I was shocked, sure, but not angry. And I guess I
was feeling a little frustrated. You were involved in a murder I was
investigating. For all I knew at that point, you could have been a suspect.”
He shut off the truck and turned to face me again.

“So you weren’t mad that I wasn’t a werewolf?” I looked
away, not wanting to make eye contact.

Nash reached over and grasped my chin firmly, tipping my
head up so he could see my eyes. “No, I didn’t even think about that.” I
could feel his eyes on me as he waited. When I finally brought my eyes up to
meet his, he nodded. “I was struggling, Harry.” He ran another hand through
his hair. “You don’t understand what it means, what it feels like, when a
werewolf finds his mate. It took every ounce of will power I had not to pull
you up against me and kiss you. I thought I was going to go nuts. And then
later in the day, I could still smell your scent everywhere I went. I really
thought I had lost it when I smelled you in Bryce’s apartment.” He gave me a
dirty look and I tried to look contrite but it only earned me a ‘yeah right’
snort from Nash.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Part of me was
wishing I had kept my mouth shut, the other was trying to get up the courage to
tell Nash that Salvador was my father. I had let my encounter with the
she-wolf bitch Melissa shake me though, so I kept my mouth shut. I grabbed one
of the take-out containers. “So, you up for some dessert? I bet I even know a
great little place to get some coffee to go with it.”

***

I was right about the coffee. Isaac, Morris and the boys
were still playing with the new coffee maker. I’d let us in through the back
door. Nash paused in the new kitchen and looked around.

“Wow! Quite the set up.” He looked impressed.

“Thanks. I can’t take any credit for it. I promised Isaac
a gourmet kitchen to bake in if he planned and paid for it. All I did was
provide the space.”

When we arrived out front, there seemed to be an argument
going on.

“No, it’s just not right. You can’t make a proper
cappuccino with non-fat milk.” Isaac looked scandalized. “I refuse to allow
it.”

Morris threw up his hands in disgust. “Bah! You will lose
business. Norms are obsessed with fat. Everything is half-fat this, no-fat
that.”

“I don’t care. They can go drink half-fat swill somewhere
else. We are going to be a proper coffee establishment.”

“Oh boy,” I said to myself and then waded into the fray.
“Hey boys, Isaac, Morris.” I nodded to the group. “What’s up?”

“Harry, I refuse to serve coffee with
non-fat
milk.”
Isaac made a face.

“Uh, okay, sure. We can give it a try....” In fact, the more
I thought about it, the more I was beginning to really like the idea. It could
be our ‘gimmick’, something to set us apart from the other coffee shops in the
neighbourhood. Besides, I had a feeling our core customers wouldn’t be
counting calories. If anything, they would probably be happy for the extra
fat.

“Oh, oh, look out, I see the wheels turning.” Nash’s voice
was full of amusement. He held me by the shoulders and led me over to a
stool. “You better sit down, Harry. You look like you’re going to hurt
yourself.”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny, Nash.” I gave him a playful swat,
but sat down all the same. I turned to look at Isaac. “I think it’s a great
idea. We only serve the best coffee with the best ingredients. No low fat, no
non-fat, nothing artificial. We can put it right on the menu….” I kept
mulling the idea over in my head. “And, we’ll call the place the Full Fat
Coffee Company.” I waved my hand out in front of me like I was reading a
marquee. I looked at the group. “So, what do you think?”

“Perfect.” Isaac smiled smugly, looking at Morris who had
thrown his hands up in defeat. I guess we had a name.

“So, who do I have to know to get a coffee in this place?”

***

Isaac served up two steaming mugs of cappuccino then
disappeared with Morris and the boys back to the kitchen, leaving Nash and me
alone. I cracked open one of the desserts. It was a generous portion of
tiramisu.

“Mine.” Nash grabbed the container from me with a playful
growl.

“Hey! Nonna packed that for me.” I pouted at him as he scooped up a generous portion with the little plastic spoon
from the container and shoved it in his mouth with a grin.

“No,” he replied after a moment, “Nonna packed
that
one for you.” He pointed to the other container with his spoon. “This one’s
mine. I
paid
for it.”

“Hmmph. Why didn’t you just say so?” I opened the other
container and a little sound of glee escaped me. “Chocolate Cassata!” I
licked my lips in anticipation. “Nonna knows me too well.” I bent over the
container and inhaled the sweet scent of chocolate. I was practically
salivating at the sight of the decadent dessert - layers of rich, dense
chocolate cake sandwiched around layers of sweetened ricotta cheese with chocolate
chips and then smothered in a creamy fudge frosting. I was in heaven. I
closed my eyes and took another deep breath only to have the container suddenly
disappear from my hands. “Hey!” I looked at Nash. He lifted the container up
over my head.

“I think you need to come over here to eat this.” He backed
up holding the container hostage until he reached the first booth. “If you eat
this anywhere near like you did the carbonara, I want to watch every bite.” He
grinned at me.

“Fine with me,” I said, stomping over to the booth. I sat
down and Nash placed the container in front of me before sliding in on the
other side of the table. “This orgasm is all mine.” I scooped a mouthful and
closed my mouth around the spoon, letting the chocolate dissolve on my tongue,
savouring the rich flavour with a low moan as Nash’s surprised laugh rang
through the shop.

***

“So, the end of date number two.” Nash stopped at the top
of the stairs on the landing outside my door. I turned to face him.

“I guess so.” I batted my eyelashes at him innocently. “I usually let
my date kiss me on the second date,” I added with a grin.

“You don’t say?” Nash looked me, a hungry glint in his eye.
He leaned in and crooked a finger under my chin, tipping my head up. “I
wouldn’t want to disappoint you then.” He brought his lips to mine. I leaned
into the kiss, our lips the only part of our bodies touching. When he pulled
away, I let out a little sound of protest and I stumbled forward a step. Nash grabbed
my shoulders, steadying me on my feet. “Easy there, minx,” he said with a
laugh. He looked down at me, his face quickly becoming concerned. “Harry?”

I heard the question in his voice, but I couldn’t take my
eyes off the sight in front of me. My eyes were wide and I could feel my heart
rate rise, only it wasn’t from Nash’s kiss. I looked down at the bottom of the
stairs in increasing horror.

“Harry!” Nash took me by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, pulling my gaze back to Nash. “Nash! You’ve got to see this.”
I grabbed his hand in mine and tugged him to
the top of the stairs and pointed down. “Can you see that?”

Nash gave me a worried look and then turned his gaze to
where I was pointing. “Shit!” He took an involuntary step back. “What is
that?”

“More like who,” I replied, shaking my head. I had never
seen a ghost like the one I was looking at now. It was a woman. From her
shoes to her clothes to her hair, she looked like your stereotypical soccer
mom. But her face! It was like some sort of macabre mask. Everything looked
completely normal, except the woman’s mouth appeared to be sewn shut with big,
thick, irregular black stitches. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” I turned
to look at Nash. “Have you? I mean, have there been any dead bodies lately
that might have looked like this?”

Nash shook his head. He took a step down, moving closer to
the ghost. “Hey,” he said, calling out to the grisly spectre. “Who are you?
What do you want?

The woman looked up at us and then turned away, moving
across the parking lot. I say moving, because she wasn’t really walking or
even floating. It was more like she was winking in and out of sight, each time
moving slightly farther away from us. Nash and I hurried down the stairs after
her.

“Hey! Come back.” I raised my arm like I was hailing a
cab. I’m not sure what purpose that served, but sometimes you just can’t stop
your muscle memory from kicking in.

The ghost disappeared and then blinked back about fifty
yards ahead of us. She was leading us down the alley. Nash grabbed my arm
when I made to follow. “Wait Harry. We don’t know what could be waiting for
us.”

“Well, her body, of course.” I gave him a ‘duh’ look,
holding my hands up in front of me with a shrug.

“I figured that, but what if her killer is still around?”
Nash looked at me expectantly.

“Oh yeah, I hadn’t thought of that.” I chewed on my bottom
lip.

“Let me grab my gun.” He went back to his truck and
unlocked the lock box in the centre console, pulling out his Glock. He clipped
the holster to his belt and then grabbed a flashlight, handing it to me.
“Okay, let’s go. You lead the way.”

We followed the mute ghost through the alley and out to the
nearby street. Several blocks later, she stopped and turned into another
alley. After a few minutes of searching, we finally found her body stuffed in a
large dumpster.

“Oh yuck,” I gagged as Nash threw back the lid of the bin.
The woman’s body had been thrown in on top of several bags of trash. The
stench of death was thick, mixed with a retch-worthy combination of rotting
leftovers and coffee grounds. Like the body from the day before, the woman’s
throat had been torn out, but that isn’t what took me by surprise. No, it was
the fact that despite what her ghost looked like, her face was unflawed. There
were no black stitches holding her mouth shut.