Mystical Love (78 page)

“You said before that Daddy's death was personal. My inability to locate any smudges of his energy proves that point.”

“Perhaps you should let your uncle take you through a session,” her aunt offered. “You've been conducting so many classes, your energy has run dry. You need an overhaul. Your uncle can put you under and realign your chakras in less than an hour. He excels at hypnosis, you know.”

Sonny's hand clutched her throat, and Logan silently congratulated her on manipulating the conversation exactly where he
wanted it to go next. Seeing her ashen face, her uncle stepped forward, grabbed her gloved hand, and led her to a chair.

“I'd consider it an honor if you'd let me lighten your load, Sonny. You never turn down requests for readings, and your body and mind are now paying for it. I can ease the stress with just a few words.”

Logan crossed to Sonny's chair, perching on its wide arm. He slung his hand across its back, as if protecting her. He hid a wry grin at the action. He was acting like a horse's ass. Sonny didn't need protection from him, or anyone. With just a touch of her hand, she could fling a bystander into an unwanted vision and leave them there.

His thoughts flew to his rib cage suddenly. He could still feel the moment his scar had gone painless. It had been a moment of clarity, as if somehow, in transferring the pain from him, Sonny had left some of God's innate goodness behind in its place. He cringed at the thought. He should've been the last person to equate his life with God's goodness. Not after the secrets he and Sonny were keeping.

The tantalizing perfume of Sonny's hair wafted to his nose, and Logan felt Sonny's shoulders tense up. Her mind was back on her father's murder, when he wished her mind was on his kiss. Did she realize that since their kiss, her face had radiated an outer and inner glow? And did she know that glow made him want to forget serial killers and Tarot cards, drag her off to the nearest room, and make love to her for the rest of the day and into the night?

Logan heard the clearing of a throat and glanced up to find Brad rocking on the balls of his feet, waiting for an answer.
Back to reality, Reed
, his inner voice advised.

“Well, if you don't want Brad to ease your stress, go have a massage in the spa,” her aunt finally declared. “Hattie works miracles with her fingers.”

“The massage will have to wait,” Sonny said. “I've got to call a press conference and, of course, alert our overseas partners to Daddy's death.” She turned to Ned. “I'll need Daddy's key card and password to access his computer.”

Ned looked stymied by her request. “Where's your key card? he asked.

“At home in the vault.”

He pulled down his vest. “Well, go home and get it. I haven't the foggiest idea where David keeps his cards.”

Sonny tensed up again. Her gaze switched between her uncle and Ned.

“You both lied to Dick earlier,” she stated suddenly. “You each had a major row with Daddy—a knock-down, drag-out—I can almost see it.”

Hearing the insinuation, Ned's face froze, but her uncle's didn't.

“What do you mean by that?” he demanded. “Do you honestly think one of us used our key cards to enter the bungalow and kill David?”

“You had an ugly confrontation with him, Uncle Brad.”

“And I apologized to him,” he replied. “He forgave me.”

“So you say.”

Her aunt intervened swiftly. “You also had an argument with him, Sonny.”

“Which I forgave him for.”

“What was the argument about?” her uncle interrupted, suddenly all cop.

Hearing his good-cop, bad-cop tone, Logan stirred. “David called Meta Corps, complaining that Sonny had too much on her plate and requesting the serial killings be assigned to another empath. When they refused, David confronted Sonny.”

“He demanded I drop the case,” Sonny cut in. “When I refused, reminding him that no one decides my agendas but me, he apologized and dropped the matter. I forgave him.”

She sent Logan a sideways squint, and he hid a grin. The mouse was maneuvering them into a new set of lies. As if reading his thoughts, she blushed, and then, remembering they were discussing her father's computer, she returned her attention to the trio.

“Perhaps it's not too late for me to touch Daddy's keyboard and see if there is still a trail of smudged energy.”

Put off by the thought of mystical powers at work behind the scenes, Logan rose. “Perhaps you should ask the lieutenant's permission before you start contaminating his crime scene.”

“A second eye couldn't hurt.”

Her uncle balked at the offer immediately. “Dick is more than capable of handling the investigation. No need for you to become involved.”

“I've worked a homicide case before,” Sonny told him.

“Not one that hits this close to home, you haven't,” her uncle said. He eyed Logan. “Agent Reed must certainly agree. Amateur sleuths only manage to cloud an investigation.”

“Your uncle's right,” Logan said. “The bungalow is still in flux. Aren't there any other computer terminals you can use?”

“She could use the mainframe at Serenity,” Ned said. “It's safest—less chatter.”

Her aunt jumped on the suggestion. “Ned's right. But first, you need to go home and recharge your batteries. Consuela can fix you something to eat while you nap. I'll show Mr. Reed to his suite.”

Logan grinned immediately. Charlotte Fletcher was relentless. She wanted him out of here.

“I'm famished too, Mrs. Fletcher,” he said. “This Consuela sounds like she wouldn't mind feeding an extra mouth while Sonny naps.”

“Are you always this stubborn?” Charlotte asked.

Logan ignored the scorn in her voice. “Do cats have nine lives?” he drawled.

Sonny stirred in her chair. “If we hide Daddy's death any longer, we'll take a giant hit in the stock market by morning. And then we'll be facing headlines on CNBC.”

“Very well, I see your point,” her aunt said. “We've always been brutally honest with our branch managers.” She rose from her chair, her glance bouncing to Logan. “Meta Corps is not to hear of David's death until I say so. Is that clear? As far as the public is concerned, he had a heart attack.”

“Nothing will be leaked to the press on Meta Corps' end.”

“See that it isn't, because I promise you, if Blake Industries takes a financial hit due to wild rumors about David, we will file the appropriate charges against the perpetrator.”

She left the room rapidly, not bothering to offer a formal good-bye to anyone. Watching her disappear, Logan frowned. He had made an enemy of Charlotte Fletcher, and he didn't know why.
She knows a secret you don't
, his inner voice mused.
Pandora?

The mysterious word flitted through his brain like sand through an hourglass. The sooner he and Sonny traced its origin, the sooner he could offer a solution.

“We need to go,” Sonny said. She stepped over to Ned, intending to hug him. He balked at her approach, waving her back.

“I'm sweating like a hog. I'll stain your clothes.”

Sonny stepped away, but not before Logan saw her give Ned a puzzled look. She turned back to her uncle, giving him the farewell hug instead. In seconds, she had spun and exited the room. Crossing into the foyer, she snatched her briefcase and purse from the side table and stormed out of the cottage.

Logan's lips twitched as he followed her outside. The mouse was pissed; he could feel her angry energy radiating out into the ozone and beyond. But who was she pissed at? She rounded the cottage, away from the truck, towards a light gray Kia.

“You drive,” she said, flinging open the passenger door and sliding along the leather seat. She slammed the door shut, not bothering to ask whether he wanted to drive or not.

Grinning, Logan circled the front bumper and opened the driver's door. Sometime during the drive he would have to apologize to Sonny for blindsiding her with the kiss. Of course, he wasn't going to apologize for the kiss itself. He had enjoyed the taste of her lips too much to make that apology. But he would apologize for the blindside.

And then what?
his inner voice prompted, as he slipped behind the wheel and fired up the engine. He answered his own question. He didn't know what the hell he was going to do next.

• • •

Sonny took a moment to glance at the passing villas. At each marked signpost, Logan turned the car and followed the road signs. She knew she was being rude to him in the most obvious way a woman could be. Outside of barking directions, she was refusing to carry on a conversation with him.

She raised her gaze to his profile. This was not the time to alienate herself from that smart brain of his. They had to work together to get to the bottom of her father's murder. But did she have enough courage to forgive him for throwing her into a series of lies that she'd never extricate herself from?

Only one way to know,
her inner voice chided.
Talk to him.
She
swung around on the seat and addressed his profile.

“Have you had a chance to think about what the word Pandora might mean?” she asked. “In Greek mythology, Pandora opened a forbidden chest and released all the ills of the world,
on
the world.” She pulled the Lovers card from her pocket. “I wonder if that's what the Lovers card might mean? If I access Daddy's computer, are we releasing something that will come back to bite us in the butt, or are we meant to halt a conspiracy in the early stages of its life?”

“Neither choice is appealing,” Logan replied.

Sonny picked up her briefcase from the floorboard and hauled out the Tarot cards she had placed there this morning. She flashed the cards at Logan.

“I think the answer to the puzzle is hidden somewhere in these images. Even though I'm wearing gloves, I can feel vibrations through them—as if no piece of fabric can hold back the truth.”

“How reliable is that feeling at the moment, though?” Logan asked, finally taking his eyes off the road to scan her face. “How accurate can you be when you're emotionally disturbed?”

Sudden anger washed through Sonny. The odious toad thought she was on the verge of an emotional meltdown. Well, wasn't she? A vision of his soft lips devouring hers had her heart slamming against her rib cage.

“You can't think a simple kiss can throw me off my game?” she said. “I've been kissed plenty of times before, and I've not gone insane. If anything, being kissed heightens my talent.”

Sarcasm laced his response. “If that's the case, when I'm stuck for answers, I'll just kiss you.”

Sonny laughed unexpectedly. “Or you could just let me use my ability to get the answer.”

“But kissing you is so much more pleasurable,” he teased.

Sonny gave a bright laugh, wondering how she could be amused when his kiss had sent them down a dangerous rabbit hole of deception and lies.

“You've only seen me in action in small spurts,” she added. “If given enough time, I can see and feel incidents in their entirety. Why do you think people are so skittish around me? Take Ned, for example. He wouldn't even hug me good-bye back there. It's going to get harder and harder for you to keep your deep, dark secrets from me the longer we're together.”

“Well, now that I know that, perhaps you'll be a good wench and promise to keep whatever you learn to yourself.”

“I wish it were that simple,” she said, flexing her fingers. “My talents didn't come with a set of instructions. Sometimes the message is remarkably clear; sometimes, it's shrouded in guesses.”

“From what I've seen so far, you've hit nothing but home runs.”

He went back to studying a new signpost, tapping on the brakes as soon as he saw the street sign marked “Serenity.” The car veered sharply, and the action had Sonny clutching the door handle. The man beside her was becoming the only solid reality in a shifting world. She was already half in love with him, she knew, and that was a dangerous place to be. He was here to solve a case, and once the killer had been caught, he'd return to New York City. Besides, hadn't her father drilled into her head time and time again the stupidity of trusting strangers at first glance?

Dropping the briefcase back to the floorboard, she sighed loudly. “I wish there was a pill you could take, like the one Alice found in Wonderland. It would save us so much time and energy if we could just swallow a pill labeled: ‘To solve David Blake's murder, eat me.'”

Sonny heard a grunt. “Where's the fun in that?”

“It's better than having an emotional meltdown every hour.”

“We both know after you get some food in your belly and a good night's sleep in your own bed, you'll see things in their proper perspectives again.”

“And that's when we'll go back to being two strangers attempting to solve a series of murders together?” Sonny asked.

“I'm afraid so.”

Sonny faced the front windshield again. “I don't like that scenario one bit,” she said. “I'd rather pretend we are friends attempting to give sixteen families closure. It's what the families deserve. Besides, we've been thrown together for a reason.”

“What reason?”

“How should I know? You're the James Bond. I'm simply one of the bikini-clad girls Albert Broccoli liked to people his James Bond films with,” she said. “Turn right at the next intersection, and watch out for joggers crossing on the trail. When you reach a gated entrance, turn into it.”

Reaching the designated intersection a few moments later, the Kia veered right and then braked as a lone jogger breezed past the front of the car with a wave. Slowly, the car rolled across the trail and coasted down a circular driveway. Closing her eyes, Sonny wished sleep wasn't so far in the future.
Forget sleep
, her inner voice nudged.
Remember the kiss.