Dylan's Witch: 10 (Supernatural Bonds) (7 page)

Brady spread his arms. “Superior detectives that we are, The Kid and I are down to working cold cases.”

The captain shook his head but he was smiling. He turned his attention to Trace. “I just got a courtesy call from County. Nicole Harper was shanked right after breakfast. She bled out. It hasn’t hit the news yet but it will, and you can bet they’re going to rehash all of it, starting with VanDenbergh’s murder and sliding right into Anita Vorhaus and the senator’s little hobby of devil worship or black magic or whatever the hell he and his wife were doing in their secret room.”

“Who shanked her?” Trace asked, and Dylan could tell by his partner’s tone he didn’t like this turn of events. Hell, none of them did, and they all understood where Trace was coming from. That kind of attack wasn’t common on the women’s side of the jail.

The captain sighed, and with the sound, Dylan figured their commander had probably already started downing antacids. He confirmed it by saying, “I got a bad feeling about this. The woman’s name is Deana Young. She’s in for vehicular manslaughter, pretty much a slam dunk given her blood alcohol level at the scene. Ran a red light and t-boned another car. The other driver died in transit to the hospital.”

“Okay if I look at this?” Trace asked.

Captain Ellis huffed. “Any stopping you?”

“Not without a direct order.”

“Look, but try not to step on any toes. Okay?”

“You got it.”

The captain stepped out of the doorway. Brady said, “I like a money motive myself. Weren’t there a couple of boys who surfaced once you guys put Nicole in the slammer? Claimed the senator’s moolah should be their moolah, since he’d acknowledged they were his sons and paid their way from the get-go as long as they kept quiet while he was in public office.”

“Good recall, Pops,” Storm said. “Your memory is holding, though you forgot to mention their mother, the senator’s longtime mistress who lives in style in Miami.”

“I’m glad to see my sensitivity training is rubbing off on you, Kid.”

Dylan grinned and tapped Deana Young’s name on the keyboard before Trace could pull her record. “No violent priors. She was driving without a license after having racked up four DUI convictions. You want me to call Hale at County? See what he’s willing to give us? Chances are good he’s landed the job of doing the in-house investigation.”

“Do it.”

Dylan used his cell phone, going personal to personal.

“Why am I not surprised to hear from you?” Hale asked.

“Maybe you’re psychic.”

“Yeah right.”

“Deana Young.”

“Not saying a thing. And no one has come forward or slipped me a kite explaining motive for what went down.”

“She a disciplinary problem?”

“Not a single one noted in her file, either this stay in jail or her previous ones.”

“What do the guards say?”

“The ones I’ve spoken to so far, they’re surprised, or as surprised as anyone working this gig can be.”

“Visitors?”

“Up until about three weeks ago, when her sister started visiting, none.”

Dylan made a couple of keystrokes and followed the thread of familial relationships. “Elaine Young, various misdemeanor charges but looks like she’s stayed out of trouble for the last few years.”

“That’s the one. There’s a brother. But he’s currently doing felony time.”

“What about Nicole Harper? Visitors?”

“Her high society friends haven’t stepped foot in the jail. She’s had some crazies signing up to visit, given the sensational nature of the senator’s death and the media feeding frenzy over the black magic, but they’ve been a no-go. The only two people she’s spoken to are her lawyer, Helene Lindley, and her personal assistant, Camille Cunningham.”

“You talk to them?”

“I did indeed. The lawyer’s last visit was three days ago. Says Nicole didn’t express any concern for her safety or talk about any conflict she might be having with another inmate. The personal assistant visited at the very beginning of Harper’s stay, claimed it was just to wrap employment issues up. She said there hadn’t been any contact since.”

“You know who stands to inherit?”

“Nope. Lindley claims she doesn’t know. Said she was defense only, but thought Wasserman and Jance where handling estate matters.”

That seemed to cover it. “Thanks, Hale.”

“No problemo. See you at the poker table.”

Dylan pocketed his phone. Trace said, “You game for a little ride over to the sister’s place?”

“Let’s do it.”

“I’ll drive.” Trace suppressed a smile as they left the bullpen and went to the car.

It seemed to him the timing couldn’t be better for getting Seraphine’s perspective on whether or not another witch, or a victim, might have arranged for a hit on Nicole Harper. And it just so happened he knew exactly where Seraphine was at the moment, thanks to Aislinn.

He pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward Inner Magick, replaying Brady’s call for an intervention. Probably a good thing he hadn’t mentioned this detour to the others.

Even Seraphine didn’t know this little chance encounter was about to happen. But it had been too good an opportunity to pass up, a kind of dry run for a surprise get-together at Lily’s Place that was in the works.

Hell, maybe they wouldn’t even need the setup at the bar, though he’d enjoy doing to Dylan what had been done to him that day Aislinn walked in to Lily’s with Storm and his life was forever changed. Maybe Dylan and Seraphine would ignite on contact today.

He laughed out loud, catching the snap of Dylan’s head out of the corner of his eye. He felt his partner’s attention zero in on him.

Jesus, and he’d been afraid Storm and Brady would blow things. “Just thinking about having a spontaneous orgasm,” he said. “I want to swing by Inner Magick on the way to Young’s place.”

“Pathetic.”

“What can I say? I’m a newlywed.” He’d had Aislinn standing in front of a justice of the peace before the ink had dried clearing him for return to duty, after discharging his weapon and at the same time saving Aislinn’s life.

Now to find a reason to get Dylan into Inner Magick. Telling him Aislinn would be upset if he didn’t pop in to say hi wouldn’t cut it. Conner’s barbeque was only a few days ago and they’d all hung out together then.

It’d been a damn shame Seraphine had an out-of-town commitment and couldn’t make it back in time. That would have been prime entertainment. Though, Christ, Ianthe’s showing up had created some scorching-hot waves of lust.

His rational mind shied away from looking too closely at the demon-familiar thing going on there. Live and let love was his new motto.

Jesus. Pathetic.

He called Aislinn when he was a couple of blocks out. Heat and need exploded in a burst of sensation just from hearing her voice when she answered the phone.

“I’m about to pay you a surprise visit,” he said.

Her laugh made him smile.

Next to him, Dylan snorted.

Yeah, buddy, laugh all you want because you’re next.

“A couple of reporters have been by,” Aislinn said, and that eradicated Trace’s amusement in a heartbeat.

“Rehashing the Vorhaus and Harper murder cases?”

“Yes, Sophie called. She said it was on the news the senator’s wife was killed in jail this morning. She wanted me to know the dragon princes have guards keeping an eye on the shop and to ask me if they should prevent the reporters from coming in.”

All of Trace’s protective, possessive instincts blazed to life. “You better have told her yes,” he said, letting the dominance he usually reserved for sex thread through his voice.

The catch of her breath was intensely satisfying, though it was enough to have his cock screaming and banging against his zipper in a demand to get out. That and having the shop come into sight and knowing he was about to have her in his arms, her body pressed against his.

“I see you did,” he said, spotting the guys standing on either side of the door like a couple of deadly bouncers. He wouldn’t be able to tell which prince they owed liege service to even if he saw the dragon tattoos they’d be sporting. “Be with you in a minute.”

He hung up, his excuse for getting Dylan inside popping. He and Brady were on the same page when it came to favoring a money motive, but fuck, what if this had something to do with the magic the Harpers practiced?

He slid into a parking place. “News about Nicole Harper getting killed is out. Aislinn might have something for us.”

Oh yeah, totally smooth
. He suppressed a smile when Dylan reached for the door handle.
Am I good or am I good?

Oh yeah, I’m good.
The sparks starting flying the instant Dylan stepped into Inner Magick. Poor guy looked like he’d been poleaxed.

A trail of lust blazed straight to Dylan’s dick.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
And yeah, every repeat had his balls pulling up hard and tight and his cock throbbing.

Look away
, the instinct for self-preservation screamed.
This problem has already been handled
.

Pounce,
countered the instinct for procreation. And that voice was a hell of a lot stronger, locking his eyes on Seraphine.

Jesus. Knowing what she tasted like, how she felt against him, only made this encounter worse. The guilt came swarming back. He never should have touched her in the first place.

Despite the haze of lust currently choking off most of his ability to think, he was still detective enough to catch the flash of surprise in her eyes at his appearance, followed by the walling off that said he’d hurt her with his abrupt departure last night. This setup was Trace and Aislinn’s doing.

Dylan jammed his hands into his pockets. It was that or be a repeat offender and close the distance with the same urgency Trace demonstrated, getting to Aislinn and pulling her into his arms then slamming his mouth down on hers in a kiss that screamed ownership.

Seraphine’s expression at seeing them was like a fucking neon sign shouting her desire to be in a committed relationship. Possessiveness growled through him with a promise that a night in his bed would erase the possibility of her finding it with any other man.

Christ. What’s wrong with me?

The ring on his finger burned in answer.

Not going there. Not believing in that shit.

But it was all he could do not to crowd into her personal space. He forced himself to stop near, but not next to her.

There was a jar of black stones on the counter separating showcases and shelves from the cash register. He reached in, lifting and letting them cascade through his fingers as a way of keeping a hand busy and off her, because do that and his lips would follow.

“I’m sorry,” he said, low, for her ears only.

“For what happened? Or for the abrupt way it ended?”

Jesus, the husky timbre of her voice was like having her hand wrap around his dick. He couldn’t lay the blame all on her being a witch. “The second one.”

Her lips tilted up in a small smile. Locking his gaze there and threatening to bring a rush of fantasies.

Time for the big head to take charge.

He drew a blank. What was he going to say,
What brings you to Inner Magic?
Oh yeah, he really wanted that answer when he was very carefully
not
looking too closely at the stuff all around him.

Come on, come on.
Mettes and Patterson would laugh their asses off if they were on scene. But hell, with his attention zeroing in on her lips, words were the last thing he cared about.

“Can you give me a reason?”

He glanced down. A traitorous part of him willed her hand to where he wanted it despite having his gaze catch on the emerald-green stone at her wrist. It was a match to his ring and the thing looked alive.

He immediately blocked out the shit Storm had told him about heartmate stones. She’d never been a rabid disbeliever when it came to the supernatural, but falling in love had further eroded her rational thought processes. Same with Trace.

“It’s complicated.” And nothing good would come of stirring the past into the present. It wouldn’t change the kind of man he was or alter the future.

He shifted his attention to his partner, needing some help from that direction. “Christ, weren’t you two with each other only a couple of hours ago?”

Trace ended the kiss—with obvious reluctance. “Newly
wed
. You ought to try it.”

Heat crawled up Dylan’s neck to match the blush spreading across Seraphine’s cheeks.
Jesus, Trace, why not whip out the baton and slam us upside the head to make it even more obvious what’s going on here?

Seraphine’s laugh broke the tension inside him. It released him.

Fuck. He knew his way around women. He could handle his attraction to her, especially now that he’d done the right thing and warned her off.

He dropped the black stones he’d been playing with into the jar on the counter. “I guess you heard about Nicole Harper’s murder.”

She nodded. Without her help explaining the significance of the symbols at the Vorhaus murder scene, and giving them cause to look closer at the senator and his wife as suspects, they might not have ended up with the confession they got from the senator’s wife. The way Trace spun it, Seraphine was the reason they’d gotten a confession.

Dylan firmly suppressed the niggling sense of something being off there because in his experience, people with the kind of financial resources the Harpers had didn’t willingly go down for the crimes they committed. Whatever Trace had said to Nicole Harper, it’d done the trick.

“I heard,” Seraphine said.

He watched the words leave her mouth and wanted to taste them, capture them, exchange them for soft moans and whispered pleas for him to pound into her as he held her pinned to the bed.

“I’ve seen a number of documentaries, isn’t it fairly rare for women to be killed by women in jail?”

There was a tiny delay as the words pieced the veil of fantasy and transformed into something he needed to respond to. “It doesn’t happen often. Trace and I are looking into it though it’s out of our jurisdiction.”