First Grave on the Right

CHAPTER 17

Throughout the evening, Reyes nudged me, brushed up against my arm, slid his fingers over my mouth, causing little earthquakes to shimmy through my body. But at the moment, I had a house full of badges. Literally. I’d bet my last nickel even Mr. Wong was feeling claustrophobic, hovering in his corner, his back to the world. Heck, even the police chief and the DA were in my apartment. I totally should have spruced up the place. Put out some candles. Made a cheese ball. Cookie was busy filling cups of coffee, and Amber was busy flirting with a rookie named Dead Meat if he didn’t stop flirting back. She was eleven, for heaven’s sake! Of course, he may have just been humoring her. And it was a little cute. In a gross, Chester-the-molester kind of way.

Around midchaos, I got a call from Chrystal’s cousin.

“Hi, is this Ms. Davidson?” she’d said, her voice iffy.

“That’s me. Is this Debra?” I asked, glancing over at Teddy. I was sure he’d freak with all the cops around, but he seemed calm, almost relieved.

“Yeah,” the caller said. “Chrystal told me you’re looking for Reyes Farrow’s sister. I called my friend Emily, and she could only remember his sister’s first name as well. It was Kim. She and Reyes had different last names.”

Interesting. I wondered if it was Walker, as in Earl Walker.

“That’s all we remember about her,” she continued. “Except she was really nice.”

“Well, that’s more than I had yesterday.”

“Sorry I can’t be of more help. You know, they were really good friends with Amador Sanchez.”

“Yes, I keep hearing that.” Perhaps this Amador Sanchez was the way to go. He clearly knew them both well. “Hey, what school did you guys go to?”

“Oh, we were at Eisenhower Middle School.”

“Okay, I got a Kim at Eisenhower Middle School about twelve years ago, right?”

“Exactly. I hope you find her.”

“Thanks so much for calling, Debra.”

“Not at all.”

Well, that didn’t get me anywhere fast. But I had a Kim and an Eisenhower Middle School. Looks like I’d be hanging with Uncle Bob again tomorrow if he’d have me. I wondered if he’d let me drive.

“Oh,” Cookie said, sashaying up to me. She’d been flirting as well. “I got an address and a number for your Amador Sanchez.”

“Suh-weet.” Before going to the school, I’d pay Mr. Sanchez a visit. He could probably tell me the sister’s last name and where to find her. Cell mates shared everything. Especially cell mates who’d been friends in their previous lives.

We high-fived, and she went to warm another cup. It was almost eleven, and all the late nights were taking their toll, as were the beatings. While my body throbbed with fatigue, my mind refused to be subdued.

I sat down beside Teddy to make sure he was doing okay. Surprisingly, he took my hand into his. I squeezed. The kid had stolen my heart the moment he walked out of the shadows. I hated when that happened. The DA sat across from us, questioning Teddy, his expression a mixture of interest and worry.

“Can I talk to you?”

Officer Taft stood over me, looking down. I looked past him toward Demon Child. She was doing her best to lure Mr. Wong into a game of hopscotch.

“Not really in the mood, Taft,” I said, dismissing him with a frosty shoulder.

“I’m sorry about this morning. You just took me by surprise.”

With a glare of distrust, I turned back to him. “If you’re going to throw another tantrum, there’s really no need to talk.”

He set his coffee cup down and squatted beside me. “I promise. No tantrums. Would you just give me a chance to explain?”

He wasn’t in uniform, and I was sure he’d come over just to talk to me, having no idea he’d be met by a room full of uniforms. After giving Teddy’s hand another quick squeeze, I led Taft into the bedroom, where we could talk in private. Reyes followed. That worried me. I didn’t want to have to explain why Taft’s spinal cord was severed if he did anything stupid. It would be awkward. I’d probably have to make a statement, and I wasn’t good at statements. I was much better at icy glares and smart-ass comebacks.

I plopped onto my bed, leaving Taft no choice but to stand. The only chair in the room was home to several pairs of jeans, a lace camisole, and a pristine pair of government-issue handcuffs. Oh, and pepper spray. A girl’s gotta have her some pepper spray. He leaned against my dresser, bracing his hands on either side of his hips.

But Reyes … Reyes was another story. He must have been growing impatient. He hovered beside me, brushed against my arm, feathered a breath over my ear, ruffling the hair at the nape of my neck. His nearness kick-started my libido. Knowing what the man was capable of, I started to shake. My lack of control where he was concerned was getting ridiculous.

Demon Child strolled in then and stopped short at the door, her eyes as wide as flying saucers as she took note of Reyes. While I couldn’t really see him — he was all dark fog and mist — she must have been getting an eyeful. Her jaw dropped, and she stood there, staring at him.

As if suddenly uncomfortable with the audience, Reyes moved to the window, and a chill settled over me with his absence. Demon Child stood stock-still, as if afraid to move. It was funny.

“This morning,” Taft said, luring me back to the task at hand, “the girl you described wasn’t from the accident scene.”

“Duh. Figured that.” My attitude didn’t seem to faze him.

He lowered his chin, clenched his hands on the dresser. “It was my sister.”

Damn. I should have known this went deeper than just some kid he knew from elementary school.

“She drowned in a lake by my parents’ house,” he added, his voice strained with sadness.

“He tried to save me,” Demon Child said, her eyes still locked on Reyes. “He almost died trying to save me.”

Steeling my heart against the daughter of Satan, refusing to notice her tiny arms locked at her sides, her large blue eyes glowing in wonder, her doll-like mouth slightly agape, I leveled my best scowl of disgust on her.

“Gross,” I said.

“What?” She finally tore her eyes off Reyes, but only for a split second before relocking onto him as if she had a radar tracking system in her corneas.

“You love him so much?” I asked her, quoting her earlier sentiment. “He’s your brother.”

“Is she here?” Taft asked.

“Not now, Taft. We have more serious issues to deal with at the moment.”

Strawberry’s expression morphed into bemusement as she finally focused on me. “But I do love him. He tried to save me. He was in the hospital for a week with pneumonia from all the water that got into his lungs.”

“I get that,” I said, raising a hand as if giving witness in church. I keep forgetting that there are siblings out there who actually love each other. “But he’s still your brother. You can’t be stalking him like this. It’s just wrong.”

Her bottom lip quivered. “He doesn’t want me around anymore, anyway.”

Double damn. Concentrating on anything besides the tears gathering between her lashes — taxes, nuclear war, poodles — I asked, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to stay with him.” She wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her pajamas, then sat on the floor with her legs crossed. She started drawing circles in the carpet and allowed her eyes to stray to Reyes for only brief moments at a time. “But if he doesn’t want me…”

Pulling in a long, tired breath, I said to Taft, “She tells me you tried to save her.”

He looked at me in surprise.

“That you spent a week in the hospital afterwards.”

“How does she know that?”

“I was there,” she said. “The whole time.”

I relayed what she was saying to Taft and watched as his expression became more and more astounded with every word.

“She said you hate green Jell-O now, which you’ve refused to eat since your stay in the hospital.”

“She’s right,” he said.

“Do you want her to go?”

My question threw him. He stumbled over one answer after another before finally saying, “No. I don’t want her to go. But I think she’d be happier somewhere else.”

“No, I wouldn’t!” she yelled, jumping to her feet and scrambling beside him. She grabbed his pant leg as if holding on for dear life.

“She wants to stay, but only if you want her to.”

After a moment, I realized Taft was visibly shaking. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Me neither. I wasn’t kidding when I said she was evil.”

Ignoring me, Taft said, “If she wants to stay, I’d love to have her. But I don’t know how to talk to her. How to communicate.”

Uh-oh. I could see where this was headed. “Look. I don’t do the whole interpreting gig, savvy? Don’t even consider coming to me every time you want to know what she’s up to.”

“I could pay you,” he said, sounding a lot like Sussman. “I have money.”

“How much we talking?”

After a soft knock on the door, Uncle Bob poked his big head with his burly mustache into the room. “We’re heading out,” he said.

“What are you doing with Teddy?” I asked, concern leaping into my voice.

“He’s going to a safe house with a couple of uniforms. We’ll make more permanent arrangements tomorrow.”

Taft and I stepped out of my bedroom to a near-empty apartment. The DA took my hand, pumping it hard in enthusiasm. “Ms. Davidson, you have done an outstanding job here today. Outstanding.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, choosing not to mention that my outstanding work involved falling through a skylight and making a ham-and-turkey sandwich. “Uncle Bob helped. A little.”

The man snorted and headed out the door. After Teddy pulled me into a big bear hug, he followed. The hug felt nice. He would be okay. Well, if Price didn’t get to him.

“Are we on for the sting tomorrow night?” I asked Ubie as the last of the officers shuffled out.

“The task force wants to meet with us first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll see. This could be enough to bring him down.”

“Wait, no,” I said in protest. “Uncle Bob, we can’t risk Teddy’s life. We have to get more evidence on Price without resorting to Teddy’s testimony. And we still have to find Father Federico. What if Benny Price has him?”

Uncle Bob lowered his brows, frustrated himself. “Right now, Teddy’s testimony is all we’ve got. We need to bring this guy to his knees, Charley, and we need to do it soon. We have to put a stop to his whole operation.”

I stood my ground, refused to budge, stomped my foot … metaphorically. “Just give me one chance. You know what I can do. We have to at least try.”

With what looked like the weight of a sumo wrestler on his shoulders, Uncle Bob thought about my offer. “Let’s see what the task force has to say tomorrow.”

“What are you cooking up now?” Cookie asked after Ubie left.

“Oh, you know me,” I said, pointing at Amber with a grin. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Amber had fallen asleep on the couch, her hair a perfect arc framing her delicate features. That girl was going to be such a heartbreaker.

Cookie pursed her mouth against a smile and shook her head. “Flirting’s exhausting work.”

“Damn straight, it is,” I said, rounding the sofa to open the door.

Cookie nudged Amber awake, then led her across the hall to their apartment. After a couple of near misses with a doorjamb and a potted plant, Cookie turned to me and said, “Don’t think we’re not going to talk about what happened today.”

Oh, right, the near-death experience. “Well, don’t think we’re not going to talk about your attitude,” I said, angling for a distraction.

She winked at me and closed her door.

And then we were alone. I stood grasping the doorknob as if it were a life raft, shaking with anticipation. In a whispery rush of air, he materialized behind me. The earthy smell of elements, rich and potent, surrounded me. Then his arm encircled my waist while the other reached up and closed the door.

He pulled me back against his chest, and I melted against him. It was like falling into fire, his heat blazing against my skin, everywhere at once.

“You’re him,” I said, my voice shakier than I’d hoped. “You were there when I was born. How is that possible?”

His mouth was on my neck, searing my flesh as his hand reached under my sweater and trailed flames over my stomach. Cautiously, he tested the area where the tip of his blade had sliced. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was grateful for his concern.

Then his mouth was at my ear. “Dutch,” he said, his breath fanning across my cheek. “At last.” I turned into him, but he pulled back, studied my face, and I finally had a clear, undiluted view of the magnificent being known as Reyes Farrow.

He did not disappoint. He was the most glorious man I’d ever seen, solid and fluid at once, his lean muscles sculpted from a stone that could liquefy between heartbeats. Coffee-colored hair tumbled over a strong brow and curled behind an ear. The deep mahogany of his eyes, laced with spikes of gold and emerald green, shimmered with barely controlled lust. And his mouth, full and masculine, parted sensually. I now recognized his attire; a prison uniform, as Elizabeth had said. The sleeves had been rolled up to expose his forearms, long and corded with sleek muscles.

With infinite care, he slid his fingertips over my bottom lip, his expression severe, like a child who’d just discovered fireflies and wanted to know what lay behind the magic that illuminated them.

When his finger brushed along my lower teeth, I bit down softly, enclosed my lips over the tip, and suckled the taste, earthy and exotic, off his skin. He hissed in a sharp breath, rested his forehead on mine with eyes closed, and seemed to struggle for control as I drew more of him into my mouth. I wasn’t sure if it was for me or for him, but he braced an arm on the door and pushed me back against it with a groan, his other hand suddenly around my throat, holding me captive as he fought for control over his body.

It was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to me. My body responded to his every touch with a jolt of arousal. A hunger — so hot, it ached — pooled in my abdomen, swirled and expanded with the white heat of desire. I wanted him forever, and in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he died. Would I still get to have him? Would he come to me after he passed, or would he cross over and leave me to navigate the earthly plane alone? I was so afraid I’d lose him if his physical body expired. I wanted him to wake up, to be mine in flesh as well as in spirit. I was selfish that way.

“Reyes,” I said, my voice breathy with need as his mouth found an especially sensitive spot behind my ear, “please wake up.”

He leaned back with brows furrowed as if he didn’t understand; then his head descended and his mouth covered mine, and I lost all sense of reason. The kiss started soft, his tongue drifting across mine, tasting and teasing with infinite care. It grew quickly like a wildfire, intensified, became savagely fierce and demanding as he plundered my mouth, explored and invaded with a driving primal need. The kiss siphoned every last bit of uncertainty I’d tucked away. He tasted like rain and sunshine and flammable substances.

He stepped closer, pushed into me, and a spark ignited between my legs. Just as my hands dipped in search of the hardness pressed against my abdomen, he stopped.

In a movement so quick it made me dizzy, he broke the kiss and spun around. His robe materialized instantly, a liquid entity that encased us both, and I heard the sing of metal coming to life, of a blade being drawn. A sinister growl, deep and guttural, thundered from his chest, and I blinked to awareness — so weak, I could barely stand. Was someone in the room with us? Something?

I couldn’t see what lurked beyond Reyes’s wide shoulders, but I could feel tension solidify every muscle in his body. Whatever lingered near, it was very real and very dangerous.

Then he turned back to me, wrapped his free hand around my waist, and pulled me against him, his mahogany eyes glowing as they searched mine, begging for understanding. “If I wake up,” he said, his voice an agonized whisper, “they’ll find me.”

“What? Who?” I asked, alarm seizing my heart.

“If they find me,” he continued, his gaze lingering on my mouth, “they find you.”

Then he was gone.

About three seconds later, I hit the floor.