Hell's Belle (16 page)

CHAPTER 22

A hot, wet tongue slowly burrowing into my ear woke me from a very sound sleep. It was accompanied by some very heavy breathing. I sat bold upright, pulling a kitchen knife from between the mattress and headboard. But it was only an expectant-looking Dog hovering over me.

I flopped back down again and stared at the ceiling. Max and I spent the entire ride back to my place arguing. He refused to release my weapons until he saw my concealed carry permit. Of course, in Rhode Island it was illegal to carry concealed weapons, but my Department of Defense permit would trump state law. I'd be outed as DOD, but I was more concerned about my getting my stuff back. The wrist blades would be hard to replace.

By the time we got to my place, the argument was full throttle and I stormed out of the car before it came to a complete stop.

Dog jumped off the bed and sniffed around at a stack of unopened boxes in the corner. I leapt from the bed, shrieking like a loon, when she began to squat. Grasping her by the scruff of her neck, I interrupted her attempt to relieve herself in the house.

“Outside,” I said sternly, yanking my coat on over my tank top and sweatpants. I stepped into my boots, sans socks, and took her outside.

I needed to get a leash for her, but if she was my familiar, I figured she wouldn't wander far. We walked along broken sidewalks on the desolate streets, passing graffiti-covered buildings and sidestepping broken bottles of booze. Dog went a bit ahead, sniffing around to locate a prime spot to pee. It was late morning, and I could see some hustle and bustle on the main street, but most of the factory buildings stood lonely. I felt like a pioneer in an urban wasteland. I half expected tumbleweeds to drift through the intersection.

The sound of a truck backing up caught my attention. It must have caught Dog's too. She tilted her head to listen and then she raced around the corner. Shit. I raced after her, feeling awkward and slow without my usual jolt of morning coffee.

I turned the corner and almost tripped over Dog. She was huddled against the building, her hair on edge, watching. I stopped and huddled with her, crime scene tape keeping me from moving much further. The truck backing up had been an on-site CSI command post. There were a lot of cops. Considering this controlled chaos was directly behind my building, my soundproofing apparently worked.

"Come on." I tapped Dog lightly on the head and turned to go back home when a flash of light caught my eye.  I looked up. The roof was crawling with cops, and standing at the edge was Max, staring straight at me. He crossed his arms over his chest.

Awkward.

I turned on my heel and retraced my steps back to the apartment, while Dog continued her sniff-and-pee routine. My gait was rather stiff, since it was all I could do to not break into a sprint. It felt like it took an eternity when I finally unbolted the outside door and stepped into the warm building. Dog and I marched down the hallway. I shrugged off my coat before we were inside my apartment.

With coffee on the brain, I made a beeline for the kitchen. I hit the button on the coffee grinder, and fell into my familiar morning routine.

While I was filling up the pot at the sink, I caught another flash of light from my back windows. After pouring the water into the machine, I flipped it on and, against my better judgment, decided to give it a look. I craned my neck up and saw some figures on the roof again, but since that building was five stories high, it was hard to see clearly from my second-floor vantage point. Then Max came into view. He had binoculars pressed to his eyes, and the sunlight was bouncing off of them. Another flash hit me in the face and blinded me for a brief moment. When my eyes cleared, it looked like Max had the binoculars trained directly on me.

For a brief second I considered doing something smart-assed and naughty, like flashing him.

"Oh crap!" I smacked myself upside the head. If he was at the crime scene, it was another freaky murder. I bet Casper was around too. I had to ask Babe if she could ghost proof my home.

I peeked up at the building's roof again. Only uniformed cops were milling about now, maybe a few from the crime lab. I squinted into the sun, trying to see something translucent but not quite invisible. Either Casper wasn't there, or I just couldn't see him in sunlight.

Dog tucked
herself back in for a sleep in the bed. I huffed in her general direction, and she lifted one ear and gave me the sad-eyes routine. She was sprawled in the middle of the bed, her head on the pillows. She looked comfortable. I didn't have the heart to boot her off.

I thumped my way to the kitchen and poured a cup of steaming hot goodness into my favorite mug. After adding a dollop of half and half, I inhaled the fragrant steam. As I was moving the mug up to my lips, a knock on my apartment door made me jump. Coffee spilled down my white tank top.

I was edgy for good reason. Who the hell got past the locked front doors? And Dog? Wasn't she supposed to be barking? What good was a Hell Hound if they weren't up for some basic security? She barely lifted her head when she looked at me. Her expression said, "Well, aren't you going to answer it?"

I grabbed a paper towel and blotted at my shirt on the way to the door.

"Who is it?" I yelled at the closed door.

"It's Max.
Nina, let me in." He sounded like he’d mellowed over the past few hours. Now he just sounded annoyed.

I unbolted the lock and swung open the door. Max walked in, staring me down as he brushed past me. Dog managed to raise her head and snort hello before settling back in for her mid-morning nap.

"Good guard dog," Max sniffed, removing his coat.

I took him in for a moment. His purple silk tie was askew. His beautifully patterned dress shirt, a deeper purple than the tie, was a little rumpled, and the back had come
untucked, hiding what was a near-perfect ass in a dark pair of jeans. He looked exactly like I expected him to look in his work clothes -- like a little kid playing dress up.

Sounds of him searching through my cabinets pulled me back to reality.

"Can I help you?" I slapped my hand against the maple wood of the cabinet he was peering into and slammed the door shut. He jumped back.

He held up his hands. "I thought I would help myself to some coffee."

"It seems that you forgot your manners, Agent Deveroux." I yanked open another cabinet and grabbed a mug, handing it to him. "There is half and half in the fridge, and sugar over there," I said, pointing in the direction of the sugar bowl on the table.

"Thanks," he responded gruffly, pouring out the brew, and then crossing to the fridge for the cream. I sat slowly down at the long wooden kitchen
table, the Grimoires still sitting on one of my couches caught my eye. I fought back the urge to hide them. I wasn't going to lie to him anymore. But I wasn't going to point them out either.

"What can I do for you, Agent?" I sipped my coffee and did my best impression of nonchalant.
Except my hands were shaking.

"There were more murders last night," Max said. He pointed towards my back windows.

"Of course. Crime scene tape plus you equals murder,” I said. “I assume my alibi for last night will hold up? Cookie?" I opened the lid of the cookie jar sitting center table and plucked out a chocolate chip. I then pushed the jar slightly towards Max. He shook his head. I shrugged and put the lid back on the jar.

Max just sipped his coffee, his eyes glued on me. I met his gaze and refused to let it go.

"So are you just being friendly? Telling me there's a killer on the loose and to remember to lock my doors?" I bit into the cookie. Clearly the cookie worked magic on Dog, because she roused herself from the bed to sit at my feet, waiting for crumbs to drop. Or for me to cave in and give her a chunk.

"Picked up a dog?" Max pointed in Dog's direction. Drool puddled on the floor beneath her. She really wanted a piece of cookie. "She's a mean-looking thing. She's big, even for a Rottweiler."

I nodded and took a chip-free corner of the cookie and gave it to Dog, who damn near took my fingers off in her excitement.

"My weapons are a great deterrent as well," I scoffed. "When I have them."

It pissed me off that my weapons were rotting in some evidence room at the police station. "So what can I do for you?" I stood stiffly and crossed the kitchen to get another cup of coffee.

"I want to talk about last night."

I cringed. “Max, I really didn't want to talk about last night unless it’s about the return of my stuff.” I drained the remainder of the pot into my mug and shut the machine off.

"There are parts of last night that I don't really remember." He squinted, as if concentrating hard on his spotty memories of last night. "But I do remember some strange shit going on at the restaurant. I remember Alfonso giving me something bitter and
foul-tasting to drink. Most of the night was like a dream, and I was waking in and out."

Eying him, I eased back into my seat, my anger starting to bubble to the surface. He didn't know half of the freaky shit that went down last night.

"And what do you think I can do about this?" I asked too forcefully. I wanted to know what he thought before I just balls-out told him my story.

"I think you owe me the truth." He wouldn’t meet my eyes. "No matter how crazy I think it sounds."

I took a breath, weighing my options, when a knock at the door interrupted us. The sound of keys rattled in the locks, and then Babe's voice pierced through the apartment. "Nina? You decent?"

Babe and Dr. O made their way through my apartment’s foyer and to the living room. They stopped when they saw Max and me at the table.

"Oh good," Dr. O said. He smiled and pulled off his coat. He placed it on the back of the chair and sat down next to Max, across from me. "You're up."

Babe tossed her coat on the couch and made her way to the kitchen.

"What are you guys doing here?" I stammered, not sure what was going on.

Babe pulled the coffee carafe out of the machine and looked disappointed.

"I'll make a fresh pot," she said. She smiled, humming softly while she measured out coffee and water.

"Babe had a feeling you may need us this morning," Dr. O said, beaming at Max. "So here we are."

"We were discussing what happened last night," I deadpanned.

"Oh good! Don't let us stop you." Dr. O rubbed his hands enthusiastically. "How far along have we gotten?"

"Not very," I said glumly. I got up and went to the fridge, yanked the door open and stared into it. I wish they had brought donuts. I pulled out eggs.

"I was telling Nina that I was open to hearing her version of last night’s...events." Max eyed the still-brewing coffee. "No matter how weird I may think it is."

"You think you can keep an open mind, then?" Dr. O practically jumped up and down in his seat with excitement.

Babe laughed. "Forgive him. We don't get to tell many regular people."

"WHAT?" I roared, nearly dropping the eggs. Dog perked up at that, but probably because it involved eggs almost landing on the floor.

"Your aunt and I discussed it this morning," Dr. O said, nodding at Babe. "We think it's best if the FBI worked with us on this."

Babe took the eggs from me. "Go sit down, sweetie. I'll fix you an omelet."

Stunned, I went back to the table and dropped into my seat. "Shouldn't we wait and do this with Frankie?"

"I don't think so," Babe said as she busied herself with the omelet-making. "We can bring him up to speed tonight. More coffee, anyone, before I put the eggs on the fire?"

All hands at the table went up, and she brought over a mug for Dr. O and replenished my and Max’s empty cups.

Max wore a poker face.

I sighed. I had a feeling they were going to make me do the honors.

"I guess when you're FBI you see a lot of strange stuff, right?" I started, staring into my mug. I was about to drop a bomb on him, and I couldn't look. 

Max nodded in agreement.

"Have you ever seen anything that you just can't explain? Crimes that go unsolved?" My stomach tightened.

Max nodded again, still with the poker face on. But he didn't take his eyes off me. It was kind of unnerving.

"Keep going, Nina, you're doing GREAT," Babe said by way of moral support. I heard the eggs sizzle as they hit the pan.

"Okay," Max said, breaking his stone-faced silence. "Like these murders. They aren't gang-related but I can't explain what else they could be, so gang sounds good."

I nodded, but he stopped me. "If last night hadn't happened to me, I would never believe it. But I need you to tell me first, whose side are you on?"

Dr. O pulled out his government-issued badge and flashed it. "We're on the same side, Max."

Max’s eyes went wide as he took it. "Department of Defense? Blood Ops? I don't know what that is."

"Not many people do, my boy." Dr. O took his badge back and slipped it back into his pocket. "There aren't many of us. Nina, Frankie, myself, less than a hundred back at the base..."