Something Wicked: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense (6 page)

“Bingo. My dad was a two-star General in the Army. He’s retired now, so my parents are happily rooted back in Colorado, where they grew up together.”

“Ah, an Army brat.”

“Yes, I absolutely was, but my brother was more bratty. Trust me.”

“Is he older or younger?” He loved that she was feeding him information so willingly. If it was true, she was fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.

“Older by about five minutes, but I’m convinced all the mature genes stayed in the womb with me.”

“Five—?”

“We’re twins.” She held up her hand, palm toward him. “Before you ask, yes, Alexander and Alexandra, but we decided early on that was incredibly stupid, so he goes by his middle name, Matthew. No sense in two little Alexses running around causing chaos.”

“So is Alex your nickname?” He’d wondered if it was.

She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “Lexie. I prefer Alexandra. I think it makes me sound more sophisticated.” She smiled. “My brother’s friends turned me off the nickname in high school. They used to call me Sexy Lexie. After a while, it got old.”

“Most women would be flattered.”

“I didn’t enjoy being objectified.”

“So is your brother…?” He had trouble saying the word psychic.

She shrugged, following his hint. “He likes to pretend he isn’t, but yeah, he’s been known to see a few dead people now and then.”

“So being psychic is a genetic trait?” Good thing his own brother was a fraud.

Her eyes glanced toward the band and wandered. “Could be. My grandmother had ‘the sight’ as people like to call it.”

He considered her for several seconds. She licked her lips as she looked everywhere but at him. She seemed to lock onto something near the bar and stay, and she straightened a little in her seat. He thought she mouthed the word “Crap,” but he wasn’t sure. He followed her gaze but couldn’t peg what she’d seen. She slapped the table gently and focused on him again.

“What about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

He leaned away and sat back in his chair. “Older brother. We’re not close.”

“In age or—?”

“I haven’t spoken to him in a long time.” Why was he telling her this? He never talked about Zach to anyone. He usually told people he was an only child. It was easier, less messy.

“What happened?”

He shook his head. “Woke up one day when I was twelve and he’d left. End of story.” He gestured to her. “When did you first realize you were…” He still couldn’t say the word. It stuck in his throat like a bad piece of food.

She smiled and arched a brow at him. “Psychic?” The waiter appeared with their drinks, told them their food would be out in a few minutes, and disappeared again. Alexandra took a sip and leaned further across the table. “I think I always was. I would see people no one else could see. I never understood why they couldn’t. Sometimes Matt saw them, too, but no one else did. One time, my parents were worried my dad was getting a transfer order. They worried about it for days. I had a dream about my uncle who’d died the year before, and I woke up and told them what he’d said to me. ‘Yes, we’re moving to California in three weeks.’ My dad didn’t believe me. He said no one had even mentioned California as a possibility. A few days later, he got the call. We were being moved to San Diego.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight.”

She knew how to tell a good story. He’d give her that. He took a sip from his glass and sat it beside his right arm. “How did you get involved with the police?”

“What do you mean? They obviously heard how awesome I was and came beating down my door, wanting my help.”

“Really.” It wasn’t a question. He knew she was teasing.

“Of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “I kind of…well. Matt and I went to college in Colorado so we could be close to our grandmother. When I was a freshman, this girl—Amelia Cosby, she was a senior—went missing. There were flyers all over campus. It was on the news. I was looking at one of the flyers one day.”

“Did you know her?”

“No, but I’d seen her on campus.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Anyway, I could see exactly where she was as clearly as if I were there with her. I went to the police and—”

“You saw her in a dream or someone, meaning a dead person, told you where she was?”

“Exactly.” She nodded. “It was like a vision. Kind of like watching a movie play in my head. I’m sure someone close to her on the other side showed it to me. That’s usually what happens.” She speared him with a pointed look. “Stop interrupting me.”

His lip tugged up in a smile. “I’m a cop. It’s what I do.”

“Do it to someone else.” She narrowed her eyes then grinned. “So I told the police,” she continued. “I told them the area and the road she’d been driving on when she had her accident.”

“And they believed you?”

“Of course not. I called Amelia’s parents myself and told them too. I had to at least try. They were desperate, so they coerced the sergeant I’d talked to into checking the area. Good thing, too. She’d fallen asleep driving one night and gone over an embankment into some foliage so she was hidden from the road. When they found the wreckage, she was still alive, but barely. The news said later that another hour or two and she would have been dead.”

“Now that’s impressive.”

“Yeah, well. A couple months later, the same sergeant who’d refused to listen to me called and asked if I would take a look at another missing person case. It sort of became a side job, helping him out every now and then. We eventually became friends. He told me I should give up on my accounting degree and use my real talents for a living, helping people. With hindsight, I could slap the crap out of him for that, cause I dropped out and have been living paycheck to paycheck ever since.”

“What’s his name?”

“Sergeant Byron Carter. Fort Collins, Colorado. You should have no trouble looking him up. I can give you other references if you want. It’ll make your background check go a lot faster.”

Feisty. He liked that.

Besides, she’d already given him a name. Amelia Cosby. Easy enough to fact check. He reached for his glass and stopped. It was gone. His gaze searched the table and found it sitting beside his left arm. He could’ve sworn—

He muttered a soft curse. He must have sat it there without realizing it. He needed sleep, and bad.

Alexandra’s eyes were sparkling with amusement, and she was biting her bottom lip, trying not to smile, when he returned his attention to her.

She sure as hell was sexy when she did that.

He’d needed this. Needed to relax and smile and just have an excuse to look at her while she talked. He’d be back buried in this case soon enough. He liked hearing her talk, even if he wasn’t convinced he believed half of it.

Her gaze seemed to be following someone as he or she moved behind him. The waiter? Good. His stomach was growling out a complaint. At least one part of his body would be satisfied tonight.

But no food was lowered in front of him. He spotted their waiter at a table a few feet away, so he glanced behind him to see who she’d been staring at.

No one he recognized.

“I have a confession to make,” she said, snapping his attention back to her. She sighed and grasped her glass between two hands. He noticed she’d barely taken more than a sip. Didn’t she like it? Looking at the table, she still nibbled at her lower lip. She needed to stop doing that.

Confession. Wait. What?

He braced himself for an admission of fraud, for the revelation she was involved in his case, for anything.

“I kind of cheated at our game of pool last night.” She looked up at him through her lashes the way a little girl might when admitting guilt.

Not what he’d been expecting. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been trying to figure out how.”

“I guess you could say I had a partner helping me.”

What was she playing at? No one had been near them.

“And he’s messing with you again now. Sorry about that. He’s a very playful spirit.”

He looked around. The next table over was a group of women.

“Um, he’s actually sitting right there now.” She pointed at the empty seat between them. Dylan was taken aback by the fact it was pulled out far enough for a third party. He could have sworn the seat had been pushed firmly under the table. Alexandra gestured toward the seat. “Derby Hat Guy, this is Dylan.” She waved toward Dylan. “Dylan, this is, er, Derby Hat Guy. I don’t know his name.”

Was she for real? She honestly expected him to believe a ghost was with them right now?

“Oh! Sorry.” She pulled an
oops
face. “He says his name is George.” She glanced at the empty seat. “George? Really? I would have never pegged you as a George.”

Okay, she was playing with him now. Joking around. Had to be. There was no way.

Dylan’s smile fell from his face as the glass sitting in front of him slowly began to slide across the table toward the empty seat. He sat back, hands spread wide in disbelief just as their waiter finally appeared with their food.

Seeing the glass moving before abruptly coming to a stop, the waiter chuckled. “I think you’ve met our ghost. Not usually a tea drinker. Yeah, he loves our beer. He’s always messing with the taps at the bar. Funny, right?”

***

The look on Dylan’s face was priceless.

Alexandra said nothing as their food was placed in front of them. Their waiter rambled on about the antics of the building’s resident ghost. He left the bathroom sinks running. He loved to brush up against the ladies dancing on Salsa night. He was quite a dancer, their ghost. And he was notorious for messing with people’s billiard and dart games. Yeah, she’d learned that one firsthand.

Derby Hat Guy—er, George—looked delighted to hear himself described with such matter-of-factness.

Chuckling, he slapped the table and pointed at Alexandra. “Derby Hat Guy. I love that ya call me that. Maybe that’s what they can start calling me here. Derby Hat Guy: He haunts our building. I love it.” She noticed the bloody gash at his throat was gone today. She wondered why he was hiding it. Maybe he’d realized it freaked her out. He poked his thumb in Dylan’s direction. “So ya two came back together. I’m not sure about this fella. We’ll have to keep an eye on ‘em and size ‘em up.”

We?

“So who’s the other guy?” George put his hand in her fries, and she slapped him away. Her fingers touched cold skin as he snapped his fingers back. She would never get used to that sensation, of actually feeling them sometimes. The old ones, the ones who’d been around a long time, usually felt as solid as the living.

She waited until the waiter left to ask, “What guy?”

George gestured toward the bar. “The one who followed ya in. He’s been watching ya the entire time ya’ve been here. Kind of creepy if ya ask me. Lots of negative energy around that ‘un. Is he a friend of yours?”

Someone had followed them.

The small hairs on Alexandra’s neck tingled as they lifted. Goosebumps raced up her arms.

She stood and glanced at the patrons sitting at or near the bar. She recognized no one, but of course she wouldn’t. The killer’s face hadn’t been revealed to her in her visions. Only his shape had been.

“What’s going on?” Dylan stood and followed her gaze.

“George said someone followed us in and has been watching us.”

“What? Where?”

He didn’t doubt her? She couldn’t allow herself time to process that fully, but she was insanely pleased by her realization.

“The bar.” She turned to George, who was already up and moving. “George, which one is he?” she whispered impatiently.

The ghost weaved between the tables until he was close enough to specify the person. “This fella here.”

A tall man was leaning over the bar, his back to them. He wore a knitted cap over his head. His shape was somehow familiar to her.

“I think it’s that guy. The one wearing the black cap.” She pointed him out for Dylan.

Dylan nudged her back toward her seat. “Stay here.”

Gladly.

She sank back into her chair and watched anxiously as Dylan pushed his way through a crowd of people who’d just stood to leave their tables. When the people dispersed, the tall figure at the bar was gone. Dylan spun around in a circle, searching the room for the man. He finally held out his hands and glanced back at her.

Alexandra looked for George in the crowd. Where had he gone?

“He went out the front in that crowd of people. He’s on the street now.” George said from behind her. Hand over her heart, Alexandra turned and saw him leaning toward the window, watching the activity outside. His expression was serious. “Who is he?”

How did she answer what she didn’t know?

She glanced back at Dylan and saw that he was leaning over the bar where the man had stood. He picked something up and then spoke to the bartender. The younger man pointed toward the door, and Dylan sprinted in that direction and out of sight. Should she follow him? Who cared what he’d told her? Maybe he needed her help.

She turned to speak to George, wondering if he could leave the building, if he could follow Dylan, but he’d disappeared again.

Dammit. Why did he keep doing that?

Alexandra came to a quick decision. She was reaching for her purse and Dylan’s jacket when she caught sight of George following Dylan back into the building. Ah ha! So he
could
leave. The ghost stopped and waved at her over the crowd gathered at the door, and in a blink, completely disappeared again.

Dylan stomped back to the bar and said something to the bartender. The lanky man retrieved something from behind the counter and handed it to him. A Ziploc bag? Dylan carefully picked an item up from the bar top and sealed it in the plastic.

Alexandra felt a presence beside her seconds before she heard George say, “The man’s gone. What’s going on here?”

“I don’t know. I think he was dangerous.” She looked at the ghost. “Can you describe him to me or show me what he looks like?”

“Sorry, hon. I didn’t get a good enough look at his features. He didn’t have facial hair. I can tell ya that much. Kinda young.”

“How young?”

George mumbled a grumpy, incoherent response. It sort of sounded like “They all look young to me.”

A woman at the next table giggled, and Alexandra realized she was the subject of other patrons’ attention now. Of course she was. Who else talked to thin air?

George meandered to the woman’s table. With a flick, he knocked the brunette’s glass of water over, spilling it directly into her lap, before turning and sitting with a
hmmmph
in the chair beside Alexandra. Alexandra smiled at his gesture, and also at the way he scooted his chair closer, protectively, next to hers.

“His attention was mostly focused on you,” George whispered. “I don’t like it. I don’t like the way he was looking at ya, now that I think of it.” This playful, mischievous ghost was frowning? The situation must have been bad.

After speaking to everyone at the bar Dylan strode back to their table, whatever he’d picked up from the bar clutched in his right hand.

He sat down and glanced around the room. His expression was dark, almost furious as he stuffed the item into his jacket pocket. “Eat your burger,” he ordered and moved to pick up his own. He took a bite and chewed hard.

She’d been nervously munching on fries while she watched him. She didn’t think she could manage anything else. “What did you find? Wait. Shouldn’t you call for backup or something?”

“Done,” he barked around a mouthful. “Now eat.”

Alexandra had lost her appetite and, quite frankly, couldn’t believe Dylan wasn’t still doing something
to find the guy from the bar. What did he know that she didn’t? Maybe she’d been reading the situation wrong. Maybe George had been mistaken. Maybe Dylan had caught the tall man outside and decided there was nothing suspicious about him.

“Tarnation.” George finally sighed and reached for Dylan’s coat. “I wanna see what’s in that bag.”

Alexandra gasped and nearly choked on the bite of food she’d just forced herself to swallow when George maneuvered the plastic bag out and tossed it onto the table. It landed softly on the wood between her and Dylan.

“What the? How did that?” Dylan reached for his jacket then stared at the plastic bag as if it were possessed. Alexandra reached for it as George hunched over her right shoulder to watch her thin out the bag and get a better look at what was inside.

A napkin.

Drawn in black ink on the white paper was a figure.

A figure of the grim reaper. Underneath was a scribbled message that sent chills up and down her spine.

GR loves AK.

***

Dylan spotted the patrol car outside the window and checked his watch. Only six minutes to respond to his call. He pushed another bite of his burger into his mouth, stood up and told the woman sitting across from him, “Don’t you dare move from this spot.”

Snatching the bag from Alexandra’s fingers, he went to speak to the officers he’d called in to question witnesses at the bar. He’d spoken to a few already. No one had given him a clear description of the man who’d left the napkin.

The Grim Reaper.

He’d considered searching the entire restaurant himself, including the area outside, but he hadn’t wanted to leave Alexandra alone for too long. What if the killer’s plan had been to separate Dylan from her so he could swoop in and take her?
Hurt her.
He swore beneath his breath. Nothing that had happened in the past hour was within his comfort zone. Had a freaking ghost actually warned them of danger? Something—or someone—had moved his glass without touching it. And somehow the stupid napkin had flung itself out of his jacket pocket and landed on the table a few seconds ago.

“Has anyone patrolled the area yet?” he asked the young-looking officer who came through the door first.

“Yes, sir. I was in the area when your call came in. I didn’t see anyone wearing a knit cap dressed the way you described. Jameson’s in his car on the next block over, checking things out.”

“Alright. Secure that end of the bar until a crime scene tech gets here to dust it for prints. Get some statements. Don’t make a scene. We don’t want this showing up on the eleven o’clock news tonight.” He slapped the young man’s back and gave similar orders to the officer who followed. He wanted the area searched. Maybe some of the businesses on this street had security cameras. They were going to find this guy.

Alexandra had her head down, her face blocked by her forearm, when he made his way back to their table. She looked rattled. Good. He wanted her aware of what was at stake.

The woman was in danger.

She lifted her gaze and attempted a wobbly smile. “Geez, Collins. What have you got planned for our second date? I could do without the whole serial killer following us around part.”

Date? He couldn’t help it. He felt his lips turn up in a smile. “Ready to head back to your place?”

“Don’t you need to stick around and, I don’t know, search for fingerprints or something?”

Reedus would be here soon to supervise the uniforms. His priority right now was her safety. “No, we’re good.”

She’d only eaten part of her burger, and so had he, but he guessed they’d both lost their appetites. Maybe they’d order a pizza later. She shrugged her jacket on while he threw enough cash on the table to take care of the bill. Biting her lip, she turned away and murmured quietly, “Thanks, George. See ya later.”

Then she squealed and bucked her hips forward as if someone had just spanked her behind. Her expression went from discouraged to furious in three seconds flat. She swatted the air behind her.

“Jerk.”

Dylan’s chuckle grew into a laugh when he realized the table full of people behind them was watching, and they all looked as confused as hell.

“Come on.” He grabbed her arm and led her outside. He needed to get her somewhere safe, secure. Some place quiet. They needed to talk.

He kept his gaze alert on their surroundings. Wouldn’t surprise him if the bastard was hiding in the shadows, still watching them.

Alexandra kept pace beside him on the sidewalk, not once attempting to dislodge his hand from her back. He liked that she was letting him lead. He liked it a lot.

They’d almost made it to her hotel when the sky opened up and rain began pelting their bodies so hard it stung his face. He swore and shoved her into an alley where an awning covered a doorway. He pressed her against the wall, shielding her with his body.

“I’m sorry.” It was his fault they’d gotten caught in this. Probably his fault he’d made her a target for a madman too.

He didn’t believe she was an accomplice. He’d seen her face when she’d looked at that napkin. Shock. Fear. Disgust. No way could she have faked those emotions.

She shivered and turned her gaze up toward his. “Don’t worry about it.” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “We should make a run for it.”

Yes, they should. But he liked having her trapped between his body and the wall. Her warmth soaked into his front and his gaze fell to her chest. The rain had drenched her shirt, and the material was plastered to her breasts, highlighting the lacy bra she wore beneath. It was similar to the one he’d taken off of her last night.

“Dylan?”

He couldn’t seem to help himself. He wanted one more taste of her. That was all.

“Dylan, we —”

He swallowed the words on her lips. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue dipping inside and tasting her sweet nectar. She tasted like sweet tea and something else. Something he could stand there for hours enjoying.

Her fingers gripped his hair and pulled him down into her. She was enjoying herself too. It was madness. They barely knew each other, but he wanted this woman more than anything. Her warmth was like a drug. He couldn’t stop thinking about when he’d get his next fix. Heaven help him, he wanted more. And so did she. He didn’t even have to ask to know that. Maybe if he got her out of his system, he could focus on his job. Maybe even catch this twisted sonofabitch.

He pulled back to catch his breath. “Stay with me tonight.” He hadn’t meant to whisper the plea, but it slipped out anyway. He wanted her close. He needed to make sure she was safe.

“Yes.”

No hesitation. Excitement surged through his veins. “Your place is closer. We’ll make a run for it. Ready?”

She nodded. Her dark eyes and languid expression told him that, oh yeah, she was more than ready.

Thunder crackled in the distance as they raced hand-in-hand to her door. Alexandra struggled to dig her room key from her purse. Her hands were shaking, from the rain or nerves or excitement, he had no idea. He took the keycard from her and pushed them quickly inside.

“You know, Dylan, we—”

“Stop talking.” He grabbed her by her hips and pulled her front against his. Man, they were both drenched. He nibbled at her mouth, dipped his tongue inside and tasted her again. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

“Oh, and you’re going to leave yours on? I don’t think so.” Her hands reached up and shoved his jacket over his shoulders. The material bunched around his elbows, and she tightened her grip, tugging him closer. Her lips crashed into his, and he chuckled. She wanted to be in charge? He was good with that. More than good. Her mouth was hot as it moved against his. She opened for him, and he deepened the kiss. Her hips moved against his in a way that felt positively indecent.

Urgency racked his body. His blood thrummed with the demand that he possess this woman. He wanted inside her. Needed to feel her come apart in his arms. Needed a reminder that not everything in the world was messed up.

He slung his damp jacket away, the arms pulled inside out, and watched her do the same before reaching for her. His fingers dug her shirt out of her jeans and slid against warm, slick skin. So smooth. He tugged the shirt over her head and tossed it aside before claiming her lips again. His hands dipped down to her ass and pressed her hard against him while he feasted on her lips. His erection was so tight it was painful.

Could she feel how hard he was against her? He adjusted so that his leg was between hers, pressing up. She pushed down against his thigh, squeezed against him. He sucked in a breath.

She ripped her mouth away, buried her head in his neck and made the sweetest whimpering sound he’d ever heard. Oh, yeah. She wanted this just as much as he did.

He walked her backwards until her legs bumped against the sofa and she fell back onto the cushions. They could climb upstairs to the bed later. He took a few seconds to get rid of his clothes while she watched his striptease with dark, greedy eyes. Wearing only her bra and jeans, she looked like sin incarnate, lying there watching him, licking her delicious lips. He tugged her jeans over her hips, down her legs and threw them behind him. A splat sounded as the wet denim hit the wall. She chuckled as he crawled between her thighs—thighs that opened easily at his gentle touch.