Mind Sweeper (9 page)

“What’s the deal with Nicholas? I haven’t even spoken to him yet.”

I started breathing again. “Before we talk about him, I’m going to make some coffee. You have to have coffee with this tiramisu.”

He grinned for a moment. “If tiramisu is an orgasm, what’s the coffee?”

“Foreplay.”

He dropped his forehead on his palm, chuckling and shaking his head. “Jesus. You’re something.”

“Let’s have the dessert in the living room. I’ll bring in the coffee.”

He collected two plates, forks and the dessert box and turned toward the living room.

“Don’t start without me,” I called.

He glanced back over his shoulder, his turquoise eyes locking on me. “You have nothing to worry about.”

I gulped and pulled the filters and coffee out of the cupboard.
Get it in check, girl.
Had I not just been talking about snake-in-the-grass Jack, and now I was drooling over another man?

I stuffed the filter into the top of the coffee maker and dumped in two scoops. What had happened to
Operation Get Rid of Dalton
and
too many men in the lifeboat
? Carrying the carafe to the sink, I filled it with water and poured it into the coffee maker. A little bit of wine and compassionate blue eyes and I was a blithering idiot. Deep breath in.
You are in control of the situation. Remember that.
Deep breath out.

I walked into the living room with two mugs of coffee and a new attitude, my chastity belt snapped firmly back in place, until he smiled at me. My blithering self rushed back in full force.

I set the coffee down and cleared my throat, refusing to make eye contact for a second.

“Are you okay, Kyle?”

“Yeah, I was just trying to remember what you had asked about in the kitchen.”

“Nicholas?”

I took another deep breath and was able to rein in my libido. “Right. He’s our boss. To be honest, I don’t know much about him personally. He offered me work, and I did some minor jobs for him until he hooked me up with the team here in Cleveland, and I met Jean Luc and Misha.”

“What is Nicholas?”

I thought for a second. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve spent a lot of time over the years wondering about it. He has to be more than human, but I’m not sure what he is. I’m pretty sure he isn’t a vamp, or Jean Luc would be able to sense that. Maybe he’s a high-level demon or something off the radar screens.”

“So Jean Luc and Misha don’t know what he is either?”

“They both say no. If anyone might know, it would be Jean Luc, since he’s been around for more than four hundred years.”

Dalton leaned forward and gawked at me. “What?!”

I smiled. “Don’t let Jean Luc’s laid back attitude fool you. He is a very powerful vampire. The longer vamps live, the more powerful they become.”

He grimaced. “Like Sebastian. You know, one thing is bothering me about our encounter with him.”

“Just one thing? I felt dirtier after talking to him than when I was slimed yesterday.”

“When Jean Luc talked about Hampton being killed, Sebastian mentioned the Erie Bar. How did he know about the bar? You wiped everyone’s memories.”

“Good question. The only people who know what happened are the team.”

“You’re forgetting about the demon and the angel.”

“Do you think he’s working with the demon?” I didn’t even want to imagine that psychopath being in league with the angel. I had enough trouble sleeping at night.

“Could be. Byron said the demon tried to protect the vampire from the angel, right? So they could’ve been working together.”

I nodded and took a sip of my coffee, then noticed the empty plates on the table. “You didn’t open the dessert?”

“I said I would wait for you.” He opened the box. “Besides, the way you feel about this dessert, I thought you might want to eat the whole thing.”

“Nope, split it in half. I want to be fair.”

He laughed. “Since when?”

He handed me the plate and a coil of heat swirled in my belly. This was ridiculous. When had I turned into Scarlett O’Hara who needed Rhett Butler to carry her up the stairs? Wait, bad analogy, since that had actually happened yesterday.

I concentrated on my dessert, savoring the first bite. Dark chocolate, coffee, and ladyfingers—the triad of all that was holy. The second bite was even better.

“Soooo…what do you think?” I asked.

His eyes bored into mine. “It’s amazing.”

We ate in silence, and, with each bite, the tension grew and took on a presence of its own. I chewed faster, trying to finish so that I could find a way to get him out of my apartment. When we were both done, I carried the mugs back into the kitchen. I turned and found him within touching distance, carrying the plates.

“Let me help you.”

“No, I can finish this later. I’m sure you want to get going.”

“I’m not in any rush.” He walked up to me and reached over to place the plates in the sink, cornering me. This was definitely my fault. What sane woman talked about orgasms and foreplay with a man and didn’t expect to end up in this situation?

My breathing sped up as he leaned into me and blew lightly over my neck. My entire body came to attention, goose bumps shooting up my arms. Then it happened.

My cell phone rang.
Crap.
I thought that only happened in the movies. He let out a little groan when I ducked under his arm.

The
Hawaii 5-0
theme song filled the room. “It’s Misha, I better get it.” I reached for my bag and pulled out the phone, flipping on the speaker.

“Hey Mish, do you have any news yet?”

“Not yet, little one. I’m calling to apologize.”

“For what?”

“This morning in the car, we had talked about going to dinner tonight and I totally forgot about it. I’ll make it up to you another time, yes?”

“No problem.”

“I’m going to stay at the office tonight to work on the computer files. Can you bring me in something for breakfast tomorrow? You know what I like.”

“Yep, I’ll see you in the morning.”

I hung up the phone. Dalton had retreated to the other side of the room.

“I better get going. Thanks for dinner,” he said as he walked to the door.

What the hell just happened?

By the time my apartment door closed, I was wracking my overly tired brain to figure out why he had bailed. What was the one-eighty about? After I calmed down, and my hormones were no longer clouding my brain, I thought about the conversation with Misha and laughed. We had totally sounded like a couple. “Bring me breakfast, you know what I like.” I couldn’t have planned it better myself if I’d tried.

So without any effort on my part, the operation to oust Dalton was back in play. The only problem was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to get rid of him anymore.

Chapter 8

My morning routine re-established, I walked into the office and plopped the pastry bag next to Misha, who sat hunched over his computer.

He lifted his face, his eyes gleaming like a small child. “What did you bring me today?”

“Biscotti.”

“I should marry you.”

I laughed. Misha grinned and then peered over my shoulder. “Good morning, Joe.”

I cringed. It was official. The Fates did not want the two of us together. I turned and plastered a smile on my face.

“Dalton.”

“Morning.” He walked over to the counter, reached for the pot and stopped. He glanced questioningly back at us.

Misha piped up. “Don’t worry I made it.”

Dalton nodded and poured himself a cup.

“You’re a quick study, Joe,” Misha chuckled.

Dalton joined us at the table. “Have you found anything in the files?”

“Plenty. I have only gotten through a few of them so far. Most of the business files seem legitimate. Ledgers of items being bought and sold. But I know when I dig further into this, I’ll figure out what he was hiding. I did find something interesting, Kyle. A twenty thousand dollar transaction between Hampton and Kevin Doyle several months ago. Hampton was still in Chicago then.”

Before Dalton could even ask, I enlightened him, “Kevin Doyle runs a pawn shop on Chester Avenue. He’s a smarmy demon who uses the shop to front his illegal import business. If Hampton was dealing with him, then it’s not legit.”

Dalton stood. “I think it’s time to pay him a visit.”

* * *

The annoying little bell rang above the door as Dalton and I entered the Wee Bit o’ Ireland Pawn Shop. A voice with a lilting Irish brogue called out to us from the back of the store, “Be wit’ ye in a minute.”

Pawn shops always amazed me. Shelves of electronics that haven’t been in vogue for decades, jewelry and whatever else could potentially bring in money, lying about in no real order. I walked toward the back counter with Dalton on my heels. I wanted to be as close as I could to the little worm in case he tried to make a break for it.

Kevin Doyle strutted out of the back and stopped abruptly when he caught sight of me. He was maybe five foot six, with buggy eyes. He also had thinning hair and a ridiculous comb over. Apparently, demon males were as vain and clueless as human males when it came to male-pattern baldness.

“What do you want, McKinley?”

“Really, Doyle, it’s been too long. What happened to your lovely Irish brogue? Do you only pull it out for unsuspecting customers?”

“What do you want?”

“We need to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?”

“Charles Hampton.”

“Don’t know him.” His right eye twitched.

“Really, so the money he gave you would not show up in your books?”

He shook his head emphatically. “I deal with a lot of people. Do you think I remember everyone?”

“The ones who give you twenty grand? Yes, I do.”

He growled and Dalton tensed beside me. Up to this point, he had been hanging back, letting me do all the talking. Doyle took one look at him and stopped. I couldn’t see Dalton’s face, but I imagined he was doing one of his classic cop faces. I really needed him to teach me how to do that.

“Are you going to cut the BS now and tell us what Hampton paid you for?”

“I’ll need to check my books.”

“Let me guess, they’re in the back room. Don’t even try to make a run for it. I’ll just stake out your pawn shop until you come back.”

He sighed. “Fine, Hampton wanted me to find him a straend.”

I enlightened Dalton. “Straends are instruments of torture. Very effective, too. Almost all humans succumb to them, and it does a pretty good job on supes, too. Of course they’ve been banned for over a century.”

Doyle sputtered. “He wanted them for ornamental purposes.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Since this transaction was a few months ago, did you send them to him in Chicago?”

“Yes.”

“And he only paid twenty for them? You must be slipping. Did he have you locate anything else?”

“No. Are we done now?”

“You’re awfully anxious to get rid of us.”

“I have a business to run.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the empty shop and then back at him. “They’re lining the aisles. I’ll leave you in peace if you tell me what else you’re hiding.”

“I’m not hiding anything.” His eye twitched again.

Man, he had a ridiculous tell. I would love to fleece him at poker.

“I’ve got an idea. I’m going to find a woman and tweak with her memory a bit, have her remember you propositioning her. Then I’m going to send her to Coleen.”

He turned an interesting shade of puce, and his eyes bugged out even more than normal.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds before he finally caved.

“Word on the street is they’re looking for Hampton.”

I shrugged. “What’s the big deal about that?”

“They are specifically asking for his head and offering money for its retrieval.”

“Do you know who is asking?”

“No.”

Interesting.
“If you hear anything else, get in touch with me ASAP, or Coleen will have a special visitor.”

Dalton drove back toward the office while I sorted through everything we had learned from Doyle.

“So who is Coleen?”

I smirked. “His wife. Dalmot demons are matriarchal. The females are dominant and can be extremely powerful. You don’t cheat on them, ever.”

“What happens if you do?”

“They have a giant tail like a scorpion and they beat you to death with it.”

“God!”

“Then they eat you.”

He glared at me. “Kyle…”

“The tail is a bit of an exaggeration.” I laughed. “And demons aren’t into cannibalism.”

“I really need to have Misha tell me more about demons.”