Medium Rare: (Intermix) Read online

  “You knew her?” Evan raised an eyebrow. “Why? Did she have a record?”

  Harry’s eyes flicked to Rose. Evan shrugged. “It’s okay, Harry, she’s my assistant. Ms. Ramos, may I present Detective Dominguez?”

  Rose gave him a wan smile. “Pleased to meet you. I guess you and Evan must work together.”

  “Sometimes.” Harry gave her another aw shucks smile. “Evan’s one of our consultants.”

  “About Brenda Cerrone,” Evan cut in. “Was she crooked or just inept?”

  “I never arrested her, just knew she was around. So far as I know, she never did anything beyond séances, which, as you know, aren’t illegal.”

  “What does Evan do for you?” Rose asked. He had the feeling right now, she would have preferred to talk about anything other than Brenda Cerrone and her abrupt end.

  Harry grinned. “Evan’s our number one crap detector. Whenever we want to know what one of the supernaturals in town is up to in terms of a scam, we bring Evan in.”

  Rose glanced at him curiously. “Like what?”

  Harry rubbed his chin. “We had one medium who was running a blackmail racket. We couldn’t figure out exactly how she was doing it—just that it had something to do with her séances. So we had Evan go to a few and he figured it out.”

  Evan shrugged. “Pre-séance questionnaires, cold questioning, and some really good confederates who knew how to dig for dirt. And since it all came from ‘the spirits,’ the marks were afraid to go to the police. The majority of the scams aren’t that elaborate, though. Most crooked mediums just work the usual—Uncle Joe wants you to give some money to his faithful friend Madam Medium. Like that.”

  “Most mediums? You make it sound like there are a lot of them.”

  “There are a lot of them,” Harry said flatly. “Right now we’ve got a freakin’ epidemic of mediums in this town. Maybe because Bradford moved his operation down here, so we’ve got a lot of visitors who want spirit help. The fraud squad’s up to its neck.”

  “And Brenda Cerrone was just one more?” Her voice sounded tired.

  Evan studied her. She was hunched over her cup of tea, her emerald eyes large and luminous with unshed tears. He had a feeling Rose hadn’t seen a lot of violent death.

  Not that he had—at least not like what he’d seen tonight.

  Harry sighed. “She wasn’t anything special, so far as I know. If she really did spontaneously combust, it may not have had anything to do with what she did for a living. Maybe somebody threw a Molotov cocktail at her or something.”

  “The thing is, Harry,” Evan said slowly, “I’d be willing to swear nobody else was on that street except Rose, me, and Brenda Cerrone. Whatever happened to her came out of nowhere.”

  Rose’s hand trembled as she reached for her cup again. He had a sudden impulse to help her pick it up.

  She took a deep breath. “These mediums—have any others gotten hurt? Or maybe gone missing?”

  Harry frowned. “I don’t keep track of their whereabouts. If they’re missing, I wouldn’t know about it unless somebody complained.”

  “Nobody murdered?” Evan kept his voice flat.

  Harry shook his head. “Nope. No mediums, anyway. Lots of other murders if you’re interested.”

  Rose closed her eyes, rubbing her hand across her forehead.

  Harry sipped his coffee slowly. “I can check to see if Brenda Cerrone shows up at her apartment, but any kind of serious investigation will have to wait until the lab analysis comes back. If it turns out that grease spot really was a human being, you’re both going to have a lot of questions to answer.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we have to.”

  Harry pushed himself up. “Just keep in touch, okay?” He nodded in Rose’s general direction. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Ramos.”

  She gave him a tremulous smile before he headed back out into the street. “He said we’d have a lot of questions to answer. Questions about what?”

  “Probably how we happened to be there at the time. They’ll be trying to figure out what killed her, and we’re the only witnesses.”

  Rose frowned. “But we don’t know anything. What if we can’t answer their questions?”

  “Well, there’s one question we should definitely consider.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Did something like this happen to Alana DuBois, too?” he said grimly.

  Chapter 18

  Rose checked the river as Evan turned the SUV toward her street. She really hoped they wouldn’t be attacked by a plague of locusts when they got back to her place. She didn’t think she could take anything else tonight. Her shoulders ached, and a ferocious headache had begun to creep forward from the base of her skull.

  She knew it was fear. Not exactly like the fear she’d felt when she’d been standing frozen in the street, gaping at the place where Brenda Cerrone had been just seconds before—the panicky, hard-to-breathe terror that had made her body throb with the need to run. Instead it was a bone-deep certainty that something very bad lurked on the edge of the darkness, something looking for her, something trying to hurt her.

  Something evil.

  She swallowed hard. She had an indelible picture of Brenda Cerrone’s last moments burned into her brain. The blinding white light glowing through her skin. And then the instant when her body had been incinerated in cold, silent flames. The same thing could happen to her. Whatever had consumed Brenda Cerrone wanted to consume her, too. Although she had no proof that the hellhounds and ravens had come from the same place as Brenda’s white light, she felt certain that they had.

  She could see the moon reflected in the river as they came across the bridge at Arsenal Street, and the sky looked clear when Evan finally pulled into her driveway. Unless the sinister fog came swirling up at light speed, she figured they’d probably make it to the door.

  The fog had something to do with it. She just didn’t know what yet. Maybe Skag . . . She shook her head. She really didn’t want to talk to Skag right then.

  Evan glanced toward her, frowning. “You okay, Rose?”

  She felt a little like laughing. She was less okay than she’d ever been in her life, but she wasn’t sure how to tell him. Or even if she should tell him. She was keeping so many secrets by now she wasn’t sure which revelation might set her whole house of cards sliding.

  “I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be? Just because I saw a woman go up in smoke . . .” Her voice broke on the word and she took a steadying breath. “That’s another thing, you know—no smoke. No sound, no heat, no smoke. If you have any idea about what’s going on, I’d love to hear it.”

  “Could be something like napalm. Except napalm has smoke. And heat. And makes noise.” He shrugged, a dry smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “I don’t know, Rose. It’s something weird. That’s the best I can say.” He climbed out of the car, then came around to open her door, letting her step out in front of him.

  “I guess I should go in.” She stood staring at the front door. She really didn’t want to be alone tonight, and Helen and Lenore didn’t count.

  After a moment, he slid his hand up her arm, cupping her shoulder. “Come here. You’re freezing.”

  A spark of heat flickered deep in her belly, moving quickly downward to become an itch that made her want to press her hips more tightly against his side. Instead, she turned her shoulders in against his body, as his arms enveloped her. She rested her head against the center of his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Sorry. I’m just a little spooked.”

  His voice rumbled against her ear. “You’re not the only one.”

  His chest muscles moved, rippling under her fingers as he shifted. Her breath was tight in her chest suddenly. Okay, time to back up here.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked up at him. “Would you l
ike some coffee or something?”

  “Or something. Between Cerrone and Harry, I’ve had enough coffee to keep me afloat for a few hours.” His grin flashed white in the darkness. The shadows outlined the contours of his face, while the reflected glow from the streetlight revealed the glint in his copper eyes.

  She took a breath. Her heart was hammering a little more loudly than it had before. “Okay, let’s go in and see what I’ve got.”

  Helen sprawled in front of the fireplace when they walked into the living room, chewing on the remains of a footstool. Fortunately, it hadn’t been one of Rose’s favorites.

  Lenore fluttered over to the door from her perch on the dining room table.

  Rose sighed, shaking her head. “I thought you were going to keep an eye on her.”

  Lenore muttered something uncomplimentary, probably in reference to Helen.

  The dog pushed up from the floor at Rose’s voice, her rear end twisting with the force of her wagging tail. She jumped up, placing her paws on Rose’s shoulders, then gave her face a mighty slurp.

  Rose felt another jolt of nausea at Helen’s breath but was able to suppress it. “Enough, Helen. Can’t you find another way to show me how glad you are to see me?”

  Evan reached out to scratch Helen’s ears, and the dog transferred her attentions to him, groveling at his feet, tail wagging furiously.

  Rose turned to head toward the kitchen as Helen rolled onto her back, all four catcher’s-mitt-size paws flopping in the air.

  She glanced back at Evan. “Watch it. She could probably kill you with affection.” Or something. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to think Helen was any significant threat. Not like whatever it was that had gone after Brenda Cerrone.

  Lenore glided along overhead. For spirit animals, she reflected, these two were certainly active. Somehow she’d expected phantom creatures to be more silent and mysterious.

  Lenore landed on the counter, cocking her head to the side. “Moron?” she asked.

  “Maybe,” Rose muttered.

  She opened the pantry door and scanned the shelves. Two bottles of red wine and a couple of cans of beer.

  She was suddenly aware of Evan walking into the kitchen behind her, and then he was close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. Part of her wanted to move away, to give herself more space. Part of her wanted to inch closer, to feel that heat against her skin.

  Closer won.

  “Wine?” she asked, moving toward him with what she hoped was a trace of subtlety.

  He peered over her shoulder. She found herself looking at the line of his throat, the faint, dark brush of beard stubble running along the underside of his chin.

  “Fine with me.”

  The same tremor began in her stomach, the spreading heat that made her breath come faster. Oh, get a grip! It’s not like you’ve never had a man around before.

  She picked up the bottle of wine and headed back toward the dining room, trying to convince herself that her pulse rate always hammered like this. She pulled a corkscrew and a couple of glasses out of the dining room breakfront, placing them on the table. If Evan stood across from her, far enough away that she could avoid the whole heat thing, she could probably get herself back under control in a few minutes.

  Evan stepped beside her.

  Definitely not fair. She gave him a slightly narrow-eyed look. He grinned back guilelessly as he poured glasses of wine for them both.

  Okay, so he wasn’t quite as innocent as he looked. When she stopped to think about it, he didn’t even look innocent. His grin faded as he sipped his wine, his gaze fixed on hers. She found she couldn’t look away, although she did try.

  His eyes weren’t really the amber color she’d thought they were before. They had a ring of warm brown close to the iris, fading out to a lighter, coppery hue at the edges. His lashes were so dark they looked almost bluish, ridiculously thick and curling. A thin white scar ran through his left eyebrow, almost invisible against his fair skin.

  Without thinking about it, she raised her hand to his forehead, her finger tracing the line of the scar.

  “Rose?” His voice was a gravelly whisper.

  “Hmm?” She ran her finger along the edge of his eyebrow, feeling the faint prickle of hair on her fingertip.

  He reached up and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. His tongue danced across the tip of her finger, and she caught her breath. He cupped her face in his hands, and she stared up at him. His eyes looked browner now. Interesting.

  As he lowered his mouth to hers, she closed her eyes, feeling the soft warmth of his lips pressing, then demanding. His tongue moved along the line of her mouth, and then she was opening to him.

  She felt ravenous suddenly, so hungry for him she could hardly keep still. He nibbled at her lower lip, his teeth gentle against her skin. Then his mouth moved down, burning a line along her throat that left her gasping.

  She stepped closer, running her hands up the hard muscles of his back.

  He pulled down the zipper of her dress and then stroked up her back. Her bra was gone suddenly—he’d removed it without breaking the kiss.

  The slight roughness of his calloused hands caressed her breasts, catching her nipples between his fingers, rolling them until she gasped.

  She reached for him then, pulling his shirt free from his pants and running her fingers along his stomach to his chest. She could feel the crinkle of hair under her fingertips, then the hard jut of his nipples against her palms.

  His sharp inhale made her open her eyes. He stared down at her, his irises dark brown now with a faint rim of copper around the edges.

  He sucked in another breath as she rubbed her hands across his chest. “I want you,” he rasped.

  She nodded. “I know.” Her hands moved down slowly to the ridged muscles of his stomach.

  He chuckled, his breath tickling her ear. “Does that mean yes or no?”

  She raised her gaze to his again. She wasn’t sure her brain was functioning right now, but her mouth tipped up. “Would I be doing this if I didn’t want you, too?”

  Her hands started to slide to the front of his pants. He sucked in a quick breath.

  The door to the dining room swung open with a mighty thump.

  She squeaked, jumping backward.

  He whirled and pushed her behind him.

  Helen loped into the room, tongue lolling, giving them both a huge doggy grin.

  “Oh for Christ’s sake,” he snarled. “Can’t you go outside and play?”

  Helen stopped, gazing up at him reproachfully. She looked almost hurt.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I am not going to be a nice guy about this.”

  He grasped Helen’s collar and towed her back to the door. Her claws skittered across the wooden floor, sending Grandma Caroline’s Persian area rugs flying. Evan pushed the dog through the door, then wedged a chair under the doorknob.

  “Now,” he growled, turning back to Rose again. “Where were we?”

  ***

  God, she was gorgeous. Her honey hair had come loose from the band she’d used to pull it back. It curled wildly around her face and her naked shoulders, curving smoothly above the V of her dress where she held it against her breasts.

  She stared back at him with huge green eyes that almost looked afraid. Her soft, full lips trembled. Okay, maybe she really was afraid.

  Of him?

  Just when he’d decided to slow things down, even if it killed him, the trembling resolved itself into a grin, then a guffaw. She leaned back against the edge of the table, laughing so hard she lost her grip on her dress, letting it slip to her waist.

  He swallowed hard. She had the most perfect breasts he’d ever seen. Full and high and rounded, the nipples rose-pink against the cream of her skin. She raised her chin and stared at him again, her grin slo
wly fading. Her breasts rose and fell slightly with her breath. Then her lips spread in a predatory smile that was pure heat.

  He was in front of her in two steps, sliding his hands to her behind as his mouth came down hard on hers. He inhaled the lavender scent of her hair, the faint trace of wine on her tongue.

  For a moment, he was lost in the feel, the smell, the taste of her. Then his hands tightened, lifting her off her feet and setting her on the table in front of him. He jerked her dress up and off, tossing it to the side, then stepped between her legs.

  He stared down at her. No panties—a woman who didn’t wear underwear. Another plus. Dark golden curls at the junction of her satiny thighs. Her eyes were so large, so deep, a man could spend hours just gazing, lost in those emerald depths.

  And then she reached for the front of his pants, pulling the button open and forcing down the zipper. He’d probably die within the next fifteen minutes, but what the hell, everybody had to go sometime, right?

  Cool fingers closed around his shaft, as her hands pulled him free. He closed his eyes, sucking air into his lungs since they seemed to be totally empty all of a sudden.

  His hands moved between her legs, his fingertips gliding along the smooth skin of her inner thighs. Then he slid one thumb between her swollen folds and down, dipping into moist heat.

  Her gasp was a quick hiss against his ear. He slid two fingers deep, stretching her, locking down his own aching need to be inside her, too.

  “God, Evan,” she whispered. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

  He swallowed hard. “There’s this new thing I heard about. Foreplay, they call it.”

  “Foreplay can be overrated.”

  Her hand tightened around him, moving more quickly now. His temperature spiked up another five degrees.

  And then she was pulling him closer, rubbing the head of his cock against her opening. Heat and wetness coalesced into driving need.

  “Wait,” he croaked, fumbling in his pants pocket. His wallet flopped onto the table and he groped at it, trying to find the condom he had tucked in the back. Leaning back on her elbows, her legs wound around him, Rose began to giggle.