Through a Crimson Veil (24 page)

As they entered, she scanned the restaurant furtively, then released a silent sigh of relief. She didn’t see any familiar faces. McCabe steered her to a horseshoe-shaped corner booth, and she was put in the middle of the two men again. Mika slid closer to Conor, not stopping until her thigh was against his. All three of them had their backs to a wall and a good view of any threat that might come their way. When she smiled at McCabe, he handed her a menu. Mika blew him a kiss and watched the tips of his ears turn red. Damn, the man was adorable when he blushed.

As she studied the choices, a glass of water was set in front of each of them. “Did you want coffee?” a voice asked.

Mika nodded, but she didn’t look up. Her stomach had settled somewhere around her shoelaces. The waitress from the other night flipped over Mika’s cup, then Marc’s and Conor’s, before filling each with steaming coffee.

“I know McCabe and Hayes drink theirs black,” the woman said, “but did you want cream and sugar?”

Mika had no choice now but to acknowledge the waitress; it would be rude not to. “Yes, please,” she said, giving the woman a polite smile.
Please don’t remember me.

Luck wasn’t with her. Mika saw the spark of recognition. “
McCabe
is your kinky boyfriend?” the waitress asked. She began to laugh. “I’ll never be able to look at him the same way again. A schoolgirl uniform!”

Mika glanced over at Conor. The red of his face could be from embarrassment, but the glow in his eyes meant he was seriously pissed off. Her primary concern had been
Conor discovering she’d been here before. Never, not in a million years, had she dreamed the waitress would mention sexual roleplay.

“What did he wear when you were the woman wrestler?” the waitress continued.

“Wrestler?” Hayes asked in disbelief. He started laughing.

“Mika.” Her name on Conor’s lips was more a snarl than an actual word.

Mika blanched. The wrestler comment made it glaringly clear that she’d been here
after
meeting him. The waitress was laughing so hard at his reaction that she had to rest her coffee pot on the table. Damn. Mika wished with her whole heart that she’d never made that stupid joke the other night. But who could have guessed that she’d ever see this waitress again, or that McCabe would be a regular here? Or that the waitress would say anything?

Despite the fact that she was already hip deep in trouble, rashness spurred Mika. She battled it, tried to restrain herself, but she’d kept her Mahsei side in check most of the night and it wanted out. She gave Hayes an amused look, turned to Conor and, with a pout, used her best sex-kitten voice to say, “Don’t worry, Conor. When we get home, I’ll put on my schoolgirl uniform and you can spank me for being naughty.”

Mika wished she’d thought twice before impulsively throwing out that line about spanking two days ago. She’d known what a prude McCabe could be, and yet she’d let her reckless side—her Mahsei side—loose anyway. It hadn’t gotten her anywhere, and Conor had been scowling and muttering off and on since. She really had embarrassed him. Probably the only reason he hadn’t hauled her out of the Moondance Diner immediately was that it would have led to more laughter. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be going back there any time soon, and that he’d be avoiding Marc Hayes for a while. What had possessed her?

With a small grimace, she put aside her regret. It was too late to change things, but she vowed to keep a tighter rein on her impetuosity in the future.

They were out early today. It wasn’t noon yet, and the sun was brilliant, making her squint even wearing sunglasses. She glanced over at Conor, but he was intent on the traffic. If another apology would help, she’d offer it without hesitation. But she knew it wouldn’t make a whit of difference.

Part of her wished Conor didn’t view the world so much
in black and white. That was why he had such difficulty forgiving her—but at the same time, his unbending sense of honor was one of the things she loved about him.

“Where are we headed?” she asked, more to break the silence than because she had any real interest.

“Venice Beach,” was his response.

There came no explanation, and Mika needed one. Venice Beach would be loaded with people—especially on a Saturday, and if the Dark Ones chose to attack, the consequences would be disastrous. Mika swallowed her questions. Conor would grow impatient if she asked anything. Partly because he remained angry with her, but lack of sleep also contributed to his irritability. Neither of them was getting enough rest, and that worried her because it affected their powers.

Conor continued to hang close, to sleep beside her. Or, he tried to sleep. The attraction between them hadn’t gone away simply because he’d discovered her deceit. Mika was aware of his struggle not to make love to her, but he was strong-willed and hadn’t caved, despite her subtle efforts to tempt him.

He’d even resisted her straightforward attempt to lure him into the shower. When she’d suggested that he wouldn’t get to her in time if the dark demons came, he’d come and sat in the bathroom, but he’d studiously avoided looking at her when she was naked. Mika knew he caught glimpses of her in his peripheral vision, though, and she’d put on a show behind the glass. It had only worked to leave him aroused. When it was his turn to shower, Mika saw just how much.

Poor Conor. She half-smiled. He hadn’t been able to hide his pleasure at her ogling, though he wanted so badly for her to believe he was indifferent. And this enforced proximity would last until he had his protection back in place. Mika’s smile widened. Poor, poor Conor.

Her smile faded as she wondered how much freedom
he’d allow her once the field was back in place. He didn’t trust her, not one bit. And she supposed he shouldn’t.

As much as she wished otherwise, her promise to the Council stood. If the opportunity arose, she’d have to take the incantation to the demon leaders. Conor would loathe her for such a final betrayal. Hell, she’d despise herself, but she’d given her word and couldn’t find a way around it.

Shifting in her seat to watch McCabe, Mika pushed her concerns aside. There was plenty of time to worry about this later. Right now, he was only disillusioned with her, angry. He didn’t quite hate her. Not yet.

Sunlight made him look younger, she decided, maybe because it highlighted the blond streaks in his hair. She wanted to smooth away the slight furrow between his brows with her fingers, with her lips—and she sighed silently. Conor wouldn’t allow her to touch him, and she missed the warmth of his skin.

Her acute sense of smell picked up a faint, spicy scent, and Mika’s eyes slid half-shut as she recalled watching him shave. She’d never thought of that activity as sexy, but that had been before she’d seen McCabe doing it. He’d been yummy enough idling with nothing except a towel tied around his waist, but it had been his absolute concentration that caused her to shiver. That same focus she had seen when they made love.

He stopped the truck at a red light, and Conor turned to her. “You’re staring,” he said.

“Just enjoying the view.” When a slight flush touched his cheekbones, Mika smiled and added, “You’re adorable when you blush.”

“Knock it off,” he grumbled. She laughed. Conor appeared relieved when the light turned green again.

She didn’t quit devouring him with her eyes until he got into line to park. Mika briefly glanced at the lot, then did a double-take before turning back to McCabe. “You’re not seriously going to pay that, are you?”

“What?” He sounded incredulous.

“It’s highway robbery. You can’t tell me there isn’t a cheaper place.”

“You’re kidding, right?” There was barely a pause. “You’re not kidding.” Conor looked at her as if she’d just beamed down from the mothership. “I can’t believe this. You’re
cheap.
”

Mika straightened. “I am not cheap, I simply don’t think this is a fair price. There are free spots along the street.”

“It’s the weekend. We’ll have to circle forever to get one.”

“You don’t think it’s worth a shot? We can always come back and be gouged later if there’s nothing else…”

McCabe muttered again, but instead of turning into the lot when the line of cars moved, he pulled out and off down the street. Maybe he simply didn’t want to argue with her, but Mika felt something warm unfurl inside her. She knew Conor thought she was being silly—okay, cheap—about parking, but he’d indulged her anyway.

Twenty minutes later, they were still going up and down the streets and Conor had begun questioning his sanity out loud because he’d listened to her. Everything was filled, as he’d predicted, but she kept her eyes open, sure they’d find something. Soon enough, that happened. “There! See? A van is pulling out.”

“Got it.” He didn’t waste any time zipping into the spot.

Climbing out, Conor pulled on his faded, denim jacket to hide his weapons, then came around to help her down. They were off on the far end of Venice Beach, and while all the parking along the sidestreet was taken, there weren’t many people around.

As she and Conor walked side by side, Mika had to wrap her hand around her purse strap to keep from reaching for him. “Are we here for a reason?” she asked, to distract herself.

“Yeah. Someone I talked to on the comm mentioned that Madam Christine was reading tarot here on the weekends.”

Since Mika doubted Conor wanted a psychic reading, she asked, “And why are we looking for her?”

“She’s the one who originally erected the protection around my house. I want her to redo it.”

That didn’t surprise Mika. She knew Conor wanted desperately to put distance between them, and the only way he could do that was if he didn’t have to hang by her side. As long as the house was insecure, he had to stay close.

They reached the walkway in front of the beach, and he took her hand. Mika was stunned at first, but then she realized he didn’t want to become separated from her in the crowds. The beach was packed—some of the people were tourists, some were locals, and every age was represented, from babies in strollers to senior citizens.

The place was a carnival, a riot of noise and color, and Mika found herself entranced. There were shops for T-shirts, tattoos and body piercing. There were street performers singing and dancing, and artists drawing sketches of people. There were clowns turning balloons into animals and painting the faces of children. It was chaos—and it was human life. So different from Orcus. Clasping Conor’s hand more tightly, Mika leaned into him and smiled. “This is great!”

Scowling, he said, “Keep watch on your purse.”

She went up on her toes and gave him a loud smooch on his cheek. McCabe grumbled some more, but Mika loved his fustiness. And to make him happy, she put her free hand on top of her small, purple bag. The purse didn’t quite go with her lilac tennis shoes, but the flats that matched weren’t made for walking.

Getting through the crowds of people wasn’t easy, and while Mika did her best not to become distracted, she was unsuccessful. Conor didn’t know if the woman was giving readings on the walkway or in one of the shops along the beach, so they stopped in nearly every store. Mika wanted
to browse through all the interesting things, but satisfied herself with quick looks.

She remained strong until she found the barrettes. They were colorful and whimsical, and she had to have one. Mc-Cabe growled impatiently, and she hurriedly looked through the selection before picking a purple one with lime green and orange decorations. While she was at the register paying, she grabbed one of the store’s business cards. Her cousin, Kimi, and Kimi’s mom would love this place.

As she stepped outside the shop, Mika twisted her hair up and secured it out of the way. It was warm and she didn’t want hair on her neck. Besides, she couldn’t wait to wear her new purchase.

The instant she finished stuffing the empty bag in her purse, Conor took her hand and tugged her along. “I like your hair down,” he complained, and Mika smiled. More and more often, he sounded like a typical Kiverian male.

They hit a few more places, including one that carried the cutest cropped T-shirts. Mika eyed the racks, glanced at Conor and sighed. She’d have to look another time. As he pulled her toward the next shop, she twisted around, trying to memorize the name of the store so she could find it again.

Without warning, he tugged her sharply. Mika fell against his chest and Conor’s arms went around her. As soon as she regained her balance, he stepped away. Curious about why he’d pulled her, she turned and saw a young werewolf on rollerblades, juggling bowling pins. He was drifting all over the walkway. Where else but Crimson City would a supernatural creature be performing for spare change from humans?

“Watch where you’re going,” McCabe warned the kid.

“I think you scared him,” she told Conor with a grin when the young werewolf clutched his pins and skated away.

McCabe didn’t comment, just said, “Come on.”

Hours later, they still hadn’t located Madam Christine.
They weren’t out of options yet, but it was time to stop for lunch. They’d probably still be searching, but McCabe had been scolded. Mika’s lips twitched. While they’d been walking, her stomach had growled loud enough that the elderly couple in front of them had turned to stare. The second time it happened, the woman had told Conor to take better care of her.

They stood side by side. Mika leaned into him as they ate, and watched the men lifting weights in a fenced-off area.

“Why don’t we look for a bench?” McCabe asked.

Mika’s lips twitched. “I’m fine right here,” she said. Conor made a low growl, so low, she barely heard it, even with her demon hearing, and so she added: “Don’t worry. Your body is at least as good as any of theirs.” She briefly squeezed his biceps through the denim. “Maybe even better.”

Deliberately, Mika trailed her eyes from his face, past his chest, to a point below his waist and then back up again. “Definitely better,” she purred. “
They
don’t make me wet just looking at them.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Conor said. He sounded beleaguered, but she didn’t miss the pleased note in his voice.

“Only because I love you, McCabe.”

“Bullshit,” he said; and it was like flipping a switch, he closed up on her that fast. She hated having to watch her words, hated having to gauge what she said against his possible reactions, but unless he forgave her, there was no choice. The silence was so tense, it was a relief to finish eating and resume the search—some of the fun had gone out of Venice Beach.

Mika could feel Conor become more and more tense as they started running out of places to check. She struggled not to ask, but the question slipped out anyway: “If this psychic put the energy field around your house, don’t you have a way to get in touch with her?”

He mumbled something.

“What?”

“I said,” he bit out, “I think I might have her business card. Somewhere,” was tacked on grudgingly.

“Your filing system.”

“If you think I’m so damn bad at organizing things, I’ll pull the boxes out of storage and let you at them.”

She clenched her teeth to keep from saying anything else. They’d just fight if she did. Conor was frustrated and edgy; she could hear it in his voice. His mess of papers wasn’t worth arguing over—even if a trained monkey could do a better job at keeping the paperwork orderly.

The sun was low in the sky when McCabe finally called it a day. The crowds had thinned dramatically, the tourists had gone back to their hotels and the locals to their homes, and it was unlikely that the woman they looked for was still giving readings. If she’d been here at all.

Mika remained quiet as they headed back to the truck. Conor was tense enough that his body nearly vibrated with it. The urge to soothe him, to try and make him feel better, nearly swamped her, but Mika knew he’d pull away. Instead, she thought about what she’d seen today.

Despite her many visits to the city, this was the first time she had come to this beach. She brought her arm up and ran her fingers fleetingly across her barrette. When things were back to normal, she would return. She wanted to spend time exploring the shops for things to buy, not wander around looking for psychics; and she wanted to be able to stop to watch the street performers. One of them had tugged Mika out of the crowd to dance with him. She’d been having fun—until she’d heard McCabe snarl. Her lips curled. Next time she’d come with Kimi, not a jealous vishtau mate.

Conor wasn’t holding her hand any longer, and she missed the warmth of his calloused palm. But things had remained awkward between them since she’d told him how she felt, and they didn’t show signs of improving.
Pulling off her sunglasses, she tucked them inside her purse while they walked back to the truck.

As they left the beach farther behind, the area became deserted. Mika felt a prickle of unease go down her spine. If she’d been human, the desolation would make her worry about a mugging, a rogue vampire or werewolf attack, but she was Mahsei—what had her concerned was the dark demons. This was the perfect time and place for them to make their move. She became more alert, let her senses roam.