Demons are a Ghoul's Best Friend: Afterglow, Book 2 (8 page)

That path should lead to
her
. Not another woman.

With a spark of fury, the presence fled, leaving the woman behind the wheel blinking and staring around her.

“Sheesh. I took a wrong turn someplace.” She glanced at her GPS system and tapped it. “Okay. Get me home, Maude. Before I do something stupid and fall asleep at the wheel.”

“In five hundred yards, turn right.”

The car pulled away from the curb, a low hum that didn’t disturb the sleeping residents of the quiet street.

Chapter Seven

Pandora was barely ready when the beep of a car horn outside her townhouse summoned her into the presence of the two detectives waiting with the engine running.

She shot a wistful glance at her little balcony where she routinely enjoyed a few stolen hours on Saturday mornings with a pot of coffee, her latest novel, and her phone turned off. It had become a habit she hated to miss, since it was the only time she ever really had to completely relax. After a chapter or two, she’d clean up the apartment, throw in a couple of loads of laundry and then—and only then—would she consider getting herself together for the rest of the day.

It had seemed like a guilty pleasure when she’d started the drill a few years ago. But now it was a welcome respite for her body and her mind. And yeah, she was a bit pissed that she’d miss it this morning, even though the reason was sound.

Grabbing her purse, she left her personal sanctuary, her sneakers squeaking on the floor as she walked out and locked the door. She might have to break her routine, but she was damn well going to do it in jeans and a T-shirt. No high heels on weekends if at all possible.

If the two guys in the car expected to see Ms. Jackson the attorney, they were in for a disappointment. Today she was Ms. Everywoman. Jeans, comfortable shoes, hair tied back into a ponytail and a shirt that read “The Sarcasm Society. Like we need
your
support.”

It sort of reflected Pandora’s state of mind, since she was still irked at the memories of that damn dream and the man she held responsible for it, even though the morning light had brought a certain amount of reflection on that topic.

As she reached for the car door, she wondered if she’d been a bit hasty with her accusations last night.

Then she got a look at Cheney’s interested grin and decided she didn’t care.

“Nice shirt.”

“Mornin’, Ms. Jackson.” Detective Shand nodded politely.

She slid into the backseat behind the two men. “Morning.” She ignored Cheney completely and addressed Buck. “You’re late.”

“I had to pick up the sample from the precinct. It won’t take us long to get there,” Cheney responded casually.

“Hmpf.”

“I can stop for coffee if it’ll improve your mood, sunshine.”

“The only thing that’ll improve my mood is getting this show on the road. You’re taking up valuable Saturday morning time. Let’s get on with it.”

He chuckled as he shifted the car into gear and slid onto the road, heading toward town. “Sorry we had to interrupt your weekend. I’m sure there were a whole bunch of legal documents you planned on completing.”

“Yes.”

So what if it was a romance novel she’d planned on completing. No reason to tell Cheney that. In fact, she’d much prefer he shut up and drove.

Deliberately, she turned her attention to Buck again. “I’m guessing you set up this appointment, Detective Shand. Thank you. I appreciate the help.”

“Don’t thank me.” He leaned back comfortably. “My wife has the contacts. She pulled a few strings and called in a few favors.”

“That’s very nice of her.” Pandora smiled politely. “Please pass my thanks along to her, then.” She glanced out the window. “Where are we going?” She realized they’d passed through the business district and were heading to one of the smaller and more ethnic parts of town.

“The lab is in Chinatown.”

“Really?” She blinked at Buck’s answer. “I had no idea there were labs in that area.”

Cheney snorted. “That’s the whole idea. Private lab means just that.
Private
. As in nobody knows about it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Thank you for the clarification. I might have missed it.”

“You’re welcome. Like I said. Nice shirt. Fits you to a tee.”

Fighting down the urge to grind her teeth or lean over and whack him upside the head, Pandora merely clamped her lips together. There was no point in engaging in a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent. Her father had taught her that years ago.

She watched the buildings change from solidly practical to decoratively ornamental, admiring the delicate carvings which began to appear around doorways. The colors seemed vibrant in the morning sun, and soon she was surrounded by a world that celebrated all things oriental.

They pulled to a stop in front of a massive pair of Chinese Foo dog statues, sitting sedately on either side of a large doorway.

She blinked as she got out of the car. “Wow. These look really old.”

“I’m reassured they don’t bite.” Buck chuckled and patted one affectionately between its stone ears as he pushed the door open politely for Pandora and Cheney. “I think you’ll enjoy this.” He led them into the dark interior and then stood back so they could see what was there.

“Oh.” She couldn’t stop the exclamation.

It was a shop, of sorts, full of amazing things, statues, fans, jade pieces and jade jewelry, glittering stuff that caught the eye next to what might well have been a Ming dynasty vase. The air was rich with the fragrance of delicate incense, and Pandora would have given a lot to be left alone in it for a day or two just so that she could take a long look at everything.

On one shelf, right about eye level, was a carving. A lovingly executed, smooth and glowing piece of wood shaped into a sleeping dragon.

No gnarled beast here, but a gently whimsical portrayal of the mighty beast at rest, scales settled softly against its skin, eyelids closed, nostrils flared as if it snored where it rested on its front claws. The wings were furled down a portion of its back—Pandora held her breath, wondering for an instant if she might hear a tiny snuffling sound.

Tentatively she reached out to stroke the noble head.

“Aha. You find something.”

She jumped. An elderly Chinese woman was observing her from a rocking chair deep in the shadows with what appeared to be a giant cat on her lap.

“Go ahead. Touch. He is for all the senses, not just the eyes.”

“Er, that’s okay. Thank you anyway. He’s very beautiful.”

Buck stood from where he’d been leaning over the woman’s chair. “Old mother, this is my partner Cheney Fisher. And his—er—our friend, Pandora Jackson. We’re here to visit Karl.”

The old woman nodded and Pandora caught a glimpse of her eyes. Pure white orbs stared out from beneath the almond-shaped lids. Not sure if she was blind or not, Pandora opted for courtesy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. There are some wonderful treasures here.”

“Fire head.”

“Pardon?”

“You have head like fire.” The old woman cackled. “Long man wants to warm himself. Burn his cock in your flames.”

“Uh…” Pandora’s mouth dropped and she risked a glance at Cheney, who was carefully putting down a fan and trying to hide the fact he was blushing. Good. He was as discomfited by that pronouncement as she was. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was surrounded by a plethora of extremely delicate bric-a-brac. For someone with his height, it was probably close to a nightmare.

“Behave, old mother.” Buck scolded gently. “They’re not used to your blunt speaking yet.”

The woman snorted. “And you. You like to talk big man talk. Where my grandbabies? You marry Lian and it good thing. Now you need to do real man work, not just man talk.”

“I’m workin’ on it.”

“Work harder.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Buck chuckled. “I’ll tell Lian you told me to.” He glanced at the other two. “If you guys are done playing, we need to find Karl.”

Biting back a swift and irritated response, and praying the old woman’s words hadn’t made
her
blush as well, Pandora nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Lead on.” Cheney carefully wove a path between some sort of small coffee table and a large statue. “I’m kinda big for this place anyway.”

“You big for anyplace, long man. You just big.” The old woman favored him with a comprehensive gaze that lingered on his crotch. “But fire head can handle you, no worry.”

Lifting his face to the ceiling, Buck heaved out a dramatic sigh. “Enough already. I won’t bring my friends here if you keep this up.”

She chuckled. “You lie good, Buck. I say what you can’t. I say what Lian can’t. I good for both of you.”

“Yes you are, old devil.” Buck leaned back down and kissed her on the cheek. “Now leave these two alone and behave yourself.”

He beckoned to Pandora and Cheney, reaching to pull aside a tall piece of gloriously embroidered silk. “C’mon. This way.”

Pandora walked behind Cheney, only to have her wrist caught by the old woman as she passed her chair. “When you leave, dragon will go with you.”

“Oh—but I don’t know if I have enough…”

“He gift. You have something special he need. Passion for him. You different than all others. He will be yours and make you happy.”

Pandora paused and for a second wasn’t sure if she was hearing about the dragon—or Cheney.

“You take dragon with you. He will help you. Soon you need him. Very soon.”

The white gaze was fixed on Pandora’s face intently. So she went with her intuition. “Okay. Thank you very much. I’ll take good care of him, always.”

“I know. Go now.”

Tempted to curtsey or bow or something, Pandora simply dipped her head and then followed the men around the curtain and into a long passageway. The old woman could easily have been a flaky senior. But something about her brought the hairs on the back of Pandora’s neck to attention. There was power there, if she wasn’t mistaken.

But what sort of power it was she had no clue. Other than the power to mightily embarrass people. That one she’d got down to a fine art.

Mr. Big Man, indeed. Like a guy needed any more compliments on his masculine equipment. Especially
that
guy.

For a brief moment, Pandora remembered how it felt to have Cheney’s
equipment
poised at the threshold of her body. She shivered and firmly pushed it away. This was reality, not a dream.

No matter how enticing that dream might have been.

Cheney quickly found his momentary embarrassment dissipating in favor of curiosity. Buck was leading them along a narrow passageway, then down a winding staircase, ending up in front of a door that would have looked more at home in a government-secured facility than the basement of an oriental art shop.

“Uh, Buck?” He gazed at the flickering high-tech locking mechanism, the likes of which he couldn’t remember seeing outside a sci-fi video.

Buck turned, a sober look on his face. “Lian’s given me permission to share this. I trust you to keep it to yourself, partner. And Ms. Jackson—I know this isn’t covered by attorney-client privilege, but I’d ask you to consider it as such. Please.”

She nodded. “I’m grateful for all your help, Detective. This will remain between us.” She smiled a little. “Perhaps you should call me Pandora at this point. We’ve sort of gone beyond the formalities here.”

He nodded back. “Done.” Then he turned, pushed buttons and rested his palm on the appropriately shaped screen. One more scan, this time of Buck’s retina, and the door swung inward without a sound.

Cheney bit back a whistle as they walked through. He was inside a gleaming modern lab, complete with the prerequisite flashing lights, mysterious units that hummed and a floor clean enough to dine from if one were so inclined. He figured he could probably launch a spaceship or two from here, at least.

Or destroy Mars. He wasn’t sure. But it beat the hell out of the precinct forensics setup.

“Hey, Karl. It’s Buck. You here?”

“Yep.” A voice came from the far end of the room. “Down here by the electron analyzer.”

“Where’s that?”

“The tall silver cylinder with the box next to it and three red lights on top. No wait—make that three
green
lights. Gotcha, you bastard.”

Cheney, his height an advantage over the other two, pointed. “I think he means that thing?”

They headed toward the whatever-it-was, and he looked for whoever-it-was as they stepped over the occasional cable and connector. A couple of massive screens flickered quietly over workstations, and there was even a hologram cube—empty at this moment—hovering above a square table in the center of the room. And wasn’t that something? He didn’t know it had been perfected yet.

This, mused Cheney, was exactly what a state-of-the-art lab should be. Totally incomprehensible to a layman. He was eager to meet the tech in charge.

“Hey, Buck. Good to see you. Taking a break from screwing my favorite gal silly, huh?”

Cheney looked around. Where the hell was that voice coming from?

“You’re talking about my wife, Karl. Some respect here, huh?”

Cheney looked at Buck. Then looked down to where Buck had bent over and was slapping someone on the shoulder. A small someone.

Karl was a little person. But not just any little person. He was as handsome as any cover model, hair softly tousled, a bit of stubble and twinkling brown eyes presently grinning up at Buck.

Then his gaze fell on Pandora and he licked his lips. “Shit, Buck. You’ve tapped into my fantasies. A six-foot redhead.” He toddled over to stand in front of her, staring up her body with evident appreciation. “Marry me. Be my plaything for the rest of my life. I’ll promise you multiple orgasms and a fortune to spend. Just fuck me three times a day, maybe four on Sundays, and it can all be yours.”

Obviously at a loss, Pandora blinked. “Um—hi.”

“God she even
sounds
delicious.” Karl moved nearer and reached around to cup her jean-clad ass, his nose scant inches from her crotch. “I give the best oral sex ever. Wanna see?”

“Thanks, but not right now.” Politely, Pandora shifted away. “I appreciate the thought, though. You must be very popular.”