Missing Magic (23 page)

The doorbell rang.

“Now what?” She dragged a hand through her
mussed hair and climbed out of the bed, Cenrick right behind
her.

A quick look through the peephole told her
the morning had gone from bad to worse.

“Internal affairs,” she said. “What now? At
least I know I’m not under arrest, or they’d send regular uniforms
instead of these guys.”

“I’ll stay out of sight.” Cenrick stepped
back into the bedroom.

Once he was gone, she opened the door.
“Riddick and his sidekick, I see. What do you want this time?”

Their eyes widened as they took in her short
pajamas. She bit back a curse word. With all the uproar, she’d
managed to forget about the Fae spell Cenrick had placed on her, as
well as what she was – or wasn’t – wearing.

She looked up at Riddick, catching him
staring at her chest with an intense look. A quick glance at the
younger guy told her he too was besotted, smiling a dopey smile.
Great. She directed her attention back to Officer Riddick, since he
seemed the tougher of the two.

“How can I help you?” she asked, keeping her
voice polite and businesslike and doing her best to pretend she
wasn’t wearing pajamas. At least they were shorts, rather than some
filmy nightie.

Riddick swallowed. Heat blazed from his eyes
as they swept over her. “I never realized you were so,” he moved
his hand in an hourglass shape. “hot.”

Hot. Crap. That did it. “Come on in, take a
seat on the couch. Give me a minute to change and I’ll be right
back.”

“Please don’t.” The younger officer spoke up.
His freckled face wore a completely infatuated look. “You’re
absolutely lovely the way you are. Please don’t deprive us.”

“Uh,” Dee looked at Riddick, her expression
plainly telling him he needed to do something about his
partner.

Riddick shook his head. “He’s right. Please,
don’t change. It’s not often we get to see someone as beautiful as
you.”

Muttering a particularly unladylike word, Dee
spun on her heels. “You two can wait in the living room. I’ll be
right back.”

Damn, this pretend-Fae thing worked too well.
Oddly enough, she hadn’t noticed anything like this in the clubs
last night. But they’d been gay bars. Maybe the magic only worked
on straight men, like Riddick and his partner.

Whatever. As it was, she needed to find out
what they wanted and get rid of them. Between her lack of attire
and the magic spell, she’d have to be careful.

“We just need a minute of your time,” Riddick
said, his gaze burning holes in her back.

“And you’ve got it,” she called over her
shoulder. “But first, I’ve got to put on a robe.”

Ignoring more protests, she ran for her room
and the thick, terry-cloth bathrobe hanging in her closet.

“Here.” Whispering, Cenrick handed it to her
from his hiding place inside the closet. “How long do you think
this will take?”

“Not long.” She hoped.

“Get rid of them. We’ve got more important
things to do.”

“I know,” she whispered back. “But this is
important too. My career is on the line. I need to find out how
seriously they take these new, trumped up charges. And if they know
who’s body that is. Wait here.”

Slipping into the robe and belting it tightly
around her waist, she tugged the collar closed and dashed back down
the hall, slowing to a casual walk as she reached the corner.

“All right, I’m ready.” Entering the room,
she plastered a smile on her face. Amazing how much safer she felt
now that she was covered up.

Both men’s gazes could have burned through
steel. Riddick in particularly appeared predatory, like a hungry
lion about to pounce. They both stood, since she hadn’t offered
them seats, waiting.

Okay. Swallowing, she tried to remember her
manners. “Please, have a seat. Would you like a glass of water or
anything?” Still smiling, she took a seat on the edge of the chair
and crossed her legs, smoothing the robe carefully.

Officer Riddick sat near her, on the sofa.
His partner, still staring, declined.

“We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you
don’t mind.” Riddick’s voice sounded huskier than it had at first.
Evidently he realized this, since he cleared his throat.

If she was careful, she could use this
magical beauty thing to her advantage. Now that she was covered up,
that is.

“Of course I don’t.” She gave them her
sweetest smile.

“We found a body.”

She nodded. “I saw that on the news.”

“Wearing your partner’s uniform.”

This time, she said nothing.

“Though he had no fingerprints – they were
cut off – we were able to identify him through dental records.”

She held her breath, waiting. Despite what
Cenrick had said, she half expected him to say it was Mick.

“The body was not Mick Morsi’s.”

Releasing her breath, she didn’t try to hide
her relief. “That’s good. Do you know who it was?”

“Yes,” Riddick’s look was even more
predatory. “The body belonged to a friend of his. Jack
Singleterry.”

“Jack?” Her throat closed. She blinked away
tears. “How? Why?”

“That’s what we’d like to know.” Riddick
leaned forward, so close his nose almost touched hers. “We were
hoping you could tell us.”

Rearing back, she pushed herself to her feet.
For one awful second there, she’d thought Riddick might try to kiss
her. She wondered if Cenrick could remove the spell and put it back
on her when she needed to use it.

“Do you know anything about Mr. Singleterry’s
death?” the younger man asked, his tone gentle. “Any idea what
happened to him?”

“Absolutely not.” Despite her attempt to
sound cool and calm, her voice shook. “Jack was a very dear friend
of Mick’s, and mine as well.”

Riddick fell silent, still watching, as
though he hoped she’d spill the truth at any moment. His partner,
hanging on to her every word, wore a dazed, dreamy look on his
freckled face.

Giving herself a mental shake, she looked
from one to the other. She wanted time alone to grieve. “Is there
anything else?”

“Nope.” Unfolding himself from the sofa,
Riddick walked towards his partner, snapping his fingers in front
of the younger man’s face. “Let’s go, Kenny.”

They let themselves out. She locked the door
behind them.

“Jack.” She spoke his name in a hushed
whisper, wishing for tears and feeling only an awful, blinding
rage.

Walking into the room, Cenrick caught sight
of her face and stopped. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“The body they found? That was Jack. They
killed Jack.”

He gathered her in his arms. “We’ll get them
Dee. We will.”

She felt cold, like ice, even though fury
still burned inside her. “Yes, we will. We’ll get them and we’ll
make them pay.” Untying the bathrobe, she let it fall to the floor
as she lifter her face for his kiss.

“Make me feel alive,” she told him.

So he did.

* * *

Though she’d given them her number, Natasha’s
people didn’t call that night, or the next. Growing weary of
waiting and impatient to take action, Dee deliberated going back
out to the clubs.

As she was about to bring up the subject with
Cenrick, the phone finally rang. This time, when Caller I.D. showed
unidentified caller
, her heart began to race. “Here we go,”
she mouthed to Cenrick, before picking up the handset. “Hello?”

“Dee Bishop?” The purposely distorted voice
was unrecognizable.

“Yes. Who is this? What do you want?”

“Never mind who I am.”

“Is this about the…” She glanced at the card.
“party?”

All she heard was the sound of breathing. The
man sounded as though he wore a mask or something over his
face.

“Party?” He chuckled, though it sounded more
like wheezing. “Not really. Mick asked me to call you.”

Mick? Her heart stopped. Did he know what had
happened to Jack? Instead of asking this, she said the first thing
that came to mind. “Why doesn’t Mick call me himself?”

There was a long pause and then, “He isn’t
able.”

“Where is he? Is he all right?” As if this
person would tell her.

“Mick is close. He’s hiding out in
Dallien.”

In Dallien? A tried and true South Worth
native, Mick always made fun of Dallien. What better place to
hide?

“Jack’s dead,” the man continued. “And Mick’s
afraid he’s next. He needs your help. He wants to see you.”

She grabbed a pen. “Where?”

“Lower Dweenville. At a club called Flight
Risk. The place looks like it’s closed, but it’s not. Go inside and
he’ll be waiting in the back room.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good. And come alone. He wants to talk to
you without the Fae prince.”

Fae prince? Why wouldn’t Mick have mentioned
his name? “Without who?”

The man grunted, the sound menacing. “Cenrick
of Rune. Enough games.”

Fine. They were calling the shots.

“When?” she asked.

“Tonight.” He chuckled, the sound sending
chills down Dee’s spine. “And you’d better come alone, or Mick
won’t see you.”

“Of course,” she agreed. Replacing the
receiver, she looked up to find Cenrick watching her, waiting for
an explanation.

She relayed the caller’s words.

“You’re not going alone,” he said
immediately. “That’d be playing right into their hands.”

“Maybe. But if this is a set-up, it makes no
sense. It has to be real.”

Pacing, Cenrick frowned. “I don’t know. They
still may call about the party. They don’t know the Fae woman in
the club and Dee Bishop the policewoman are one and the same.
Unless they found out.”

“How would they find out? Who would have told
them?”

“Mick? It’s possible he told them you’re not
Fae.”

“I think it’s more likely Mick got in over
his head and wants out. When Jack was killed…” She swallowed. “I
can’t believe he would kill Jack. No way.”

He stopped his pacing long enough to cup her
chin in his hands and give her a quick, hard kiss. “Either way, I
don’t like it. You’re not going alone.”

“Oh, yes I am.” She glared at him, refusing
to allow his kiss to distract her. “The question is, whether I let
you accompany me or not.”

He folded his arms. “Just try and stop
me.”

The Dweenwillle Avenue club scene had its
fringe areas. Places where it wasn’t safe to walk at night, alleys
where hapless men had been beaten, knifed and killed. Dallien cops
tried to patrol it, but the area seemed to move, as though liquid,
shifting from one alley to the next at the whim of the dark-souled
types who stalked it.

Flight Risk was on one such street.

They parked directly under the
streetlight.

“The place looks abandoned.” Cenrick seemed
to sense the inherent risk, or maybe he picked up on her almost
palpable nervousness.

Dee took in the boarded up windows and shook
her head. “He said it would.” Her attempt at nonchalance failed
miserably.

Watching her, Cenrick’s eyes were calm. “Do
you want to leave?”

“Leave? Hell, no. Not if there’s a chance
Mick is alive and well and here. If he really does want to talk to
me, I want to hear what he has to say. Especially since he’s about
the only one beside Natasha who can tell us what’s going on.”

“Us.” he mused. “They told you to come alone,
remember?”

“I know. That’s why I’m getting out of this
car and going up there by myself. You wait a little bit, then sneak
around to the back. I don’t think they want to hurt me.”

“Really?” His brows rose. “Then what do you
think they want?”

“I’m not sure.” She wasn’t worried. “You
know, there’s a very small possibility that Mick really
is
here and needs my help.”

“But you don’t believe that, do you?”

“Hell no.” She gave him her best confident
smile. “I wasn’t born yesterday.” Patting her shoulder harness, she
adjusted her jacket. “I’m betting they won’t expect me to come
armed, especially since Lieutenant Cowell took my service revolver.
Only Mick knows I have my own gun.”

She got out of the car and began walking
towards the front of the deserted club. Though she forced herself
not to look back at her car and give away Cenrick, she couldn’t
keep from continually glancing left to right, ready for any other
assailant.

As she’d expected, the front door swung open
before she even knocked. Entering, she side-stepped the burly man
who attempted to grab her.

“Hands off,” she snarled. “Take me to
Mick.”

After a moment of startled silence, he
laughed. “I can’t believe you fell for that. Mick’s not here.”

She pulled her gun, leveling it on him. “Then
I’m leaving. Don’t try and stop me.”

If anything, her comment made him laugh
harder. “Go ahead. We don’t want you anyway.”

Stunned, she stared. “What?”

He pointed to the door. “We didn’t want you,
fool. We wanted that big Fae prince you’ve been with.”

“You told me not to bring him.”

“We knew he’d insist on coming. And, if
things went according to plan, we’ve got him now. You’re too
late.”

Before he’d even finished, she’d started
running, heading for the door. A trap! But they hadn’t wanted her,
they’d wanted Cenrick. And she’d played right into their hands.

They let her go.

Outside, she sprinted for the corner, heading
for her car. No one followed.

Still where she’d parked it, the street light
shone off the white pain.

When she reached it, she knew before she even
yanked on her door handle that she’d fucked up. Royally.

The car was empty.

Cenrick was gone.

She spun, heading around the back of the
building. If he’d followed their plan, he should have gone there.
Whoever or whatever had grabbed him couldn’t have gone far – there
hadn’t been enough time.