Something Wicked: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense (16 page)

“I don’t even have my purse.”

“I’ll handle it.” He loosened his grip and pulled back. He had his cop face on again. His dark gaze brushed over the robe she wore and stopped at her bare feet. He swore and pressed her toward the patrol car. “Text me your clothes size and tell me what you need.” He opened the car door and gestured for McCormick.

She slid into the passenger seat and squeezed the lapels of the robe tight together. “I’m scared, Dylan.” She hated admitting it, but it was true.

“I know, babe.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I won’t be long.”

Alexandra watched as he met McCormick in front of the car, reached for his wallet, and passed over a credit card. The two men glanced her way and she realized how dependent she suddenly was on each of them.

It wasn’t a feeling she liked.

The phone she still held with a death grip in one hand pinged loudly, signaling she had a text message. Confused at who would be sending her a message so early in the morning, she checked the phone and felt her muscles go still.

A picture of her sleeping, eyes closed, her face scrunched, filled the screen above the words
Were you having a bad dream? GR

She checked the sender’s information and saw Dylan’s number.

She jerked her gaze up. He was still having a discussion with McCormick and another officer. He hadn’t sent this. The killer must have done that thing again where he spoofed Dylan’s number.

He’d been that close to her. Close enough to touch her, but he hadn’t.

Why?

Alexandra moved to the window and nudged the curtains aside.

“Hey, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be so close,” McCormick said, moving to his feet and hurrying to herd her away.

Pursing her mouth, she gave in and paced the length of her new hotel room, already regretting her decision to invite the overzealous officer into her room so he didn’t have to stand in the hallway all morning. “Am I supposed to just stay here all day twiddling my thumbs? What about the stakeout tonight at the brewery?”

She needed to be there. Mostly, she needed to check on George and make sure her ghostly savior was all right. Despite her fear of attracting the old lady, she’d tried reaching out to George last night after Dylan had checked her in, but only managed to entice a dead Confederate soldier wanting to put up his heels and talk about how much he missed his old dog Maxwell. She’d finally booted him out and tried to get some sleep around four o’clock.
Tried
being the operative word. Every time a shadow had moved in the room, she’d jerked wide awake.

“Look. All I know is what Collins told me, and that was to keep you here and safe.” Her bodyguard lifted his wrist and checked the time. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon to take you to the station.”

He’d better be.

A knock on the door startled them both. With uncanny timing, Dylan’s voice called out. “McCormick, it’s Collins. Let me in.”

“See. I told you.” Checking the peephole first, the young officer unlatched the door and greeted him. “Everything’s clear here. No sign of anything unusual.”

Dylan strolled in looking rumpled and sleepy but still kind of hot, even if he did resemble a wreck. It took serious effort not to fling herself at him. She was so glad to see him. He carried a few files, a plastic bag, and her purse. He tossed them all onto one of the double beds. “I brought you some of your things. Forensics still hasn’t cleared your room, but they okayed these to go. I thought we could go over some things from here.”

“That mean I’m okay to leave?” McCormick asked.

Dylan nodded. “You’re switching out with Graham. She’s gonna keep watch from the street while I’m here. Go get some sleep.”

With a relieved sigh, the officer shuffled out, closing the door behind him.

Alexandra launched herself into Dylan’s arms. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

His hands squeezed her in return, but then he pushed her away. “You were worried about
me
?”

She nodded. “Your mother wanted me to come to Charleston because you were in danger. There was a reason she felt that way.”

He withdrew completely. “Alexandra, don’t start talking about my mom again. Not now. I’m too tired.” He sank onto the end of one of the beds and glanced up at her. Rubbing at his eyes, he swore. “Why did she think I was in danger?”

Seriously? The man was asking
that
question after all that had happened? She sat down beside him, her hand covering his knee. “Before this nutcase even knew I was in town, he called the station and wanted to talk to you. Think about it.” He moved as if to stand, but her fingers clamped onto his thigh, holding him down, making him listen. “I think he knows you. Maybe he’s been following you. I don’t know, but I think his original plans involved you somehow. Then I came along and gave him a better target.”

“Is this only speculation, or…” He sighed. “Did George or some other ghost tell you this?”

“Call it a hunch.”

“All I know is that this maniac is after you now, and that’s what I’m focusing on.” Lifting a hand, he kneaded his right shoulder and grimaced. Then the corner of his mouth tugged up as his gaze fell to her chest. “Nice shirt.”

She glanced down and arched an eyebrow. Around three-thirty in the morning, Dylan had shown up with a bag from Walmart. Cotton underwear, a tacky white T-shirt with a loud flamingo design embroidered with shiny beads, jeans that barely fit, and a pair of green converse knock-offs.

“Thanks. Some guy with really terrible fashion sense got it for me.” She expected a wisecrack in return, but all he offered was a tired smile. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Caught a nap at the office.” He massaged at his right shoulder again, so she climbed onto the bed behind him, found the hard knot there and let her fingers do their magic. He flinched then moaned. “Ahh, that feels good.”

“Massage therapist is just one of the many jobs I’ve had over the years, thank you very much. Gotta pay the bills somehow.” She dug deep into the surrounding muscles. “Did you find anything on that car? The Dodge Avenger?”

“I pulled a list of owners in the state. Some guys are going through it, narrowing it down to locals and people with priors.” He moaned softly. “If that lead pans out, you’ll have won over the entire department.” His voice was starting to slur. “Hope it does.”

She scooted back and patted the pillow behind her. “Come on. I think we can squeeze in a little nap, don’t you?”

“Shouldn’t.”

“Do it anyway.” Settling on the left side of the bed, she patted the comforter. “Hint to Mr. Clueless: I could use a nap myself but I’m too scared to close my eyes alone.”

He crawled to the pillow and collapsed beside her. She lay facing him, grateful for his presence. Poor man was already unconscious.

Sometime later, she opened her eyes and noted the shadows in the room had moved. Dylan grumbled when she shifted out of his arms. Her gaze sought the bedside clock. Two-thirty. They’d slept for a while. Longer than he’d wanted, she was sure.

She slid out of bed and padded toward the bathroom to splash some water on her face. She’d make some coffee and then wake him. It was going to take some serious schmoozing on her part to convince him to let her tag along at tonight’s stakeout. Without her help—and God willing, George’s—the police would have a heck of a time spotting this bastard.

Tonight was the night they caught this guy. She could feel it.

She opened the bathroom door, rubbing at the ache at the back of her lowered head, still out of it.

A pair of clunky black shoes standing in the doorway startled her. Alexandra looked up and met the menacing gaze of the old woman.

The demon’s gravel-rough voice vibrated with an ominous tone. “You will die soon.”

Alexandra screamed, stepped back and—

“Alexandra!”

Her shoulder shook beneath someone’s grip. Blinking, it took a few seconds for her to realize she’d been dreaming.

“You were asleep.” Dylan looked at her over her shoulder. “You’re safe.”

No.

No, she wasn’t. Her vocal cords were paralyzed. Her chest labored to catch her breath. She wouldn’t be safe until she somehow rid herself of the old woman.

“Babe. You’re okay.” Dylan pulled her back against him. His arms were warm, tight, like a much-needed cocoon. “Promise.”

“She was there. In my dream.”

“Who?”

“The old woman. The demon.”

It took him a few seconds to comprehend her words. Then he muttered a curse and pulled away. Rolling onto her back, she watched as he reached for his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Reedus.”

She propped herself up on her elbows. “What? Why?”

He didn’t answer her. Instead he greeted his partner and began a brief conversation about Reedus’s amazing recovery from pneumonia.

“Remember that bag Alexandra gave you, the one you said smelled weird?” He paused and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Yeah, it is kinda strange how you got better after she gave it to you. Listen, man, any chance I could borrow it?” He grinned and looked forward again. “What time?”

Alexandra scooted to the end of the bed and grabbed his bicep. “Dylan, I can’t take that from him.”

He narrowed his eyes in a stern look at her. “Great. I’ll send someone over to pick it up before then. Take care, man.” Ending the call, he turned to her. “There’s a reason this psycho took that pouch from your room last night. Whatever it is, we need to replace it, fast.”

“But Reedus—”

“He’s fine.” He moved to his feet. “They’re releasing him from the hospital in a couple of hours. He’s going to stay with his son for a few days.”

Alexandra glanced at the clock. Two-thirty, just like in her dream.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. She was scared enough to be selfish this once. “Then I also have another favor to ask.”

“What?”

Lifting a hand to her neck, she traced down to the area where her cross usually rested. “I’m not arrogant enough to deny I’m in over my head here. I need help. I know you’re not a total believer yet, but we’re dealing with more than just some guy who gets off on killing people.”

He crossed his arms and studied her. “What kind of help?”

“Connor, maybe?”

He said nothing for a long time. “I know a priest.” He nodded toward the window. “A cathedral not far from here.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “What’s wrong with Connor?”

“Don’t know him. Neither do you. For all I know, he could be the Reaper.”

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Jealousy was cute until a point. “When I couldn’t sleep, I looked up the Bellator de Lux on my phone. Dylan, it’s real. Some claim it’s a shadow agency of the Vatican. Others claim it’s a secret part of the government. What everyone agreed on is that they’re badass. They deal with demons and scary stuff no one can handle. If you ever meet a member, some serious crap is going down.”

He scoffed and spun away from her. “You think that scrawny kid we saw is some kind of demon hunter?”

“He wasn’t scrawny.”

He spun back toward her. “You were looking?”

“Dylan.” She shook her head and reached for her purse.

“No. You can call him.” He moved toward the room’s phone. “That’s it.”

“I’d rather talk to him in person.”

He stopped moving. She slid to her feet and pressed the phone he held back into its cradle. “Alexandra, I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“And I’m totally okay with that.” She slipped her hand up his arm in a soothing motion. “I also want you to trust me. This is my area of expertise.” Well, sorta. Enough that she knew catching this killer might not mean the end to the horror he’d wrought. Extra steps needed to be taken. Steps Dylan didn’t understand yet. She wasn’t sure she understood them either. That was the problem.

One of his jaw muscles twitched as he met her gaze. “All right. We’ll ask him to meet us somewhere. There’s a deli not far from here.”

“We?”

“You and me. That’s how it goes, or not at all. Deal?”

She snorted. As if she would willingly deprive herself of his company. She reached for her purse. “What are you waiting for? An invitation? Let’s go, handsome. Times a’wastin’!”

***

What had he gotten himself into?

Dylan hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath as he waited for the scrawny young man he barely knew to respond to Alexandra’s outright, in-your-face explanation of the events of the past week. Hearing it paraphrased aloud, the whole thing sounded nuts. He would have never believed it if he hadn’t experienced some of it.

Connor’s gaze skated over to where Dylan sat, arm stretched around the back of Alexandra’s chair. He didn’t look skeptical or amused. “This is worse than I thought.”

Connor turned his head, his gaze fixed on an empty table to their left. Alexandra looked that way, too. She gasped. “You can see him?” She focused on their companion. “You’re a medium too.”

A smirk played at the edges of Connor’s mouth. “Guilty.”

“Have you seen the demon?”

The young man took a sip of his coffee and shook his head. “No, but I’ve only been here a few weeks, and I didn’t know I should be looking for one.” He leaned back in his chair. “Since I got here, I’ve been helping ghosts cross over. It’s like as soon as they realized I could see them, they all wanted my help. I’ve only seen so many ghosts in one place a few times.”

“I wondered about that.” Alexandra leaned even closer. Dylan got the feeling she’d forgotten he was there. “There are so many here, it’s crazy.”

“I know.” Connor started to lean forward, caught Dylan’s narrow-eyed look, and pushed his chair back instead. Good. Dylan didn’t like this punk.

Connor cleared his throat. “The Bellator has been monitoring activity in Charleston for at least the past decade. When people show an interest in the paranormal, it creates an energy. That energy can manifest things, gives spirits strength they shouldn’t have, attract spirits from other places, and—”

“Create demons,” Alexandra finished for him.

Dylan thought he was following. “So all of these ghost tours and things are bad?”

Connor shrugged. “There’s an anomaly here now. It’s not good.”

“It’s like I feel drained here,” Alexandra said. “Overwhelmed. My defenses are useless. It’s—”

“Unhealthy,” Connor finished for her, and they both smiled.

Dylan leaned forward, scooted his chair closer to Alexandra. “You didn’t tell me that.”

She bit at her bottom lip as she looked at him. “I didn’t think you’d understand.”

No, but good ole Connor did, didn’t he?

Dylan aimed a look he usually reserved for interrogation at him. “If you didn’t know about the demon, why did you come here?”

Alexandra’s fingers squeezed at his thigh under the table. He clenched his jaw but didn’t remove his gaze from Connor’s, who smiled and leaned back some more. “Barbara called us, told us she was having visions, and that someone with my skills should probably come check things out. Problem is, I can’t see the anomaly. I just sense it’s here.”

“Is Barbara part of the Bellator?” Alexandra interjected.

Connor nodded. “We work in a network. We have people all over the world. Psychics, like us.” His gaze looked Alexandra up and down. “You interested in joining?”

Like hell.

“Tell me, Connor.” Dylan’s voice was taut. “Do you believe this man, this killer, is possessed or under the influence of evil? Could these not be the actions of someone suffering from a mental illness?”

“Could be. We won’t know until you catch him.”

A vibration at Dylan’s hip alerted him seconds before the ringtone did that he had a call on his mobile. “Excuse me,” he told them. Lifting his phone, he sent Alexandra a look he hoped said
Stay put
and stepped into the empty corner. “Collins.”