Once Upon A Midnight Page 37

  “Are you okay?”

  The voice startled Mina. She turned, pulling her gun from her hip holster.

  Eric raised his hands. “I’m unarmed.”

  “Why did you follow me?”

  “I didn’t. I just happened to see you down here when I walked past.”

  He moved closer. Mina’s adrenaline spiked, never a good thing, and she forgot she was holding a weapon until Eric pushed it aside. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  “We can’t do this.” Her mild protest was a whisper. “Charlie.”

  “Loves you,” he said. “She loves us both. She’d want us to be happy.”

  “She’ll never—” Eric silenced her with a kiss.

  Ten minutes later, they were groping their way into his loft.

  They fell into the living room. Eric tugged her shirt up and her jeans down as he pressed her body against the wall just inside. His hands slid down her thighs as he moved a knee between her legs parting them. A finger looped the side of her panties and gave them a sharp tug, the strap breaking under the strain. Mina moaned her excitement.

  His lips left her mouth, trailing kisses down her neck, breasts, and abdomen. Firm hands grasped her buttocks as his mouth found her slick heat, his tongue flickering against her throbbing clit, licking and sucking the swollen bud sweetly between his lips. Mina’s legs buckled, but Eric held her upright, a feat that impressed her and fueled her desire even more.

  Tight tension coiled itself within her—the burning edges of an orgasm on the horizon. His tongue was doing incredible things, long, impossibly long it seemed, as it made its way into her, sliding in and out, flicking to her clit then back in, sucking her while his teeth grazed her sensitive flesh. “Oh, shit, I’m going to come.”

  He paused, one hand moving to her breast, pinching her taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Come for me, Mina. I want to taste you explode in my mouth.”

  She nearly sang her compliance. Impossibly, she felt his hands everywhere, stroking her, caressing, as his tongue dove in and out and over, blood rushing away from her head and down to her groin. She shuddered as a bell rang out in her mind, her sex contracting in spasms around his tongue. She flung her head back, it whacked against the wall, but even that minor pain didn’t stop the rapture as he kept taking her, all of her, into him.

  When the vibrations of the last of her orgasm subsided, Eric kissed her aching clit. Kneeling between her legs he eased her down onto his lap, his shaft pressing hard against her. “That was a delicious appetizer.” He licked his glistening lips, wet with her own lubricant. He breathed his desire across her neck. “Now for the main course.”

  He easily lifted her off the floor, his strength surprising Mina. Yes, he was half-other, but until this feat of strength, she’d considered him mostly human. He dropped her onto the bed then dropped his slacks. The silk boxers were off, and Mina wet her lips. He was long and thickly erect. From his bedside stand, he pulled out a condom. He tore open the foil and sheathed himself. The act of which, Mina found sexy as hell.

  When he spread her thighs and settled his body between her legs, Mina groaned. “Oh, my.”

  He entered her, his length filling her slow and deep as he kissed her. The languid sensuality made her breath hitch. Eric’s lovemaking was slow, methodical, with deliberate strokes, those magical hands touching her everywhere. She couldn’t think, only feel. His cock seemed to vibrate inside of her, resonating throughout her system. A mass of pleasure and flesh, raw passion. “Faster,” she panted. “Take me faster.”

  Needing him, wanting more, wanting all he had to give, she dug her fingernails into the firm muscles of his buttocks, urging him, as he wrapped his arm around her waist and rolled her back to the floor. “I want this to be wonderful for you.”

  “It is,” she nearly shouted, her body crying for him to take her hard and fast. “It is.” She bit her lip until she tasted blood. “Now, faster.”

  His thrusts quickened, matching the rocking of her hips, grinding her clit against his groin, the coiling tightness building, and she wanted him to come, come with her.

  “You’re so hot, hot and tight. I can feel you clenching my cock. It feels so good,” he murmured. “So good.”

  “Yes. Yes.” The rocking motion became more aggressive, his thrusting more insistent, his rigid cock bottoming out inside her, painfully, pleasurably. His mouth took her breast. He sucked hard, teeth grinding around the tight nipple.

  “Ahhh!” she cried out as another orgasm burst from her. She screamed as ripples of ecstasy crashed through her body, shaking her to the core. Eric’s moans of pleasure joined with hers as his hips bucked forward and held her tight in place as he finished.

  “I knew it would be that good.” Eric smiled, his green eyes translucent in the afterglow. Mina couldn’t disagree. It had been fucking mind blowing.

  Guilt punched with a stone fist, and her stomach clenched

  “Get up.” She patted him. “Eric, get up.” What had she done? Exactly what she’d told herself she wouldn’t. Shit, shit! “I have to go.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Damn, there was that look again. Disappointment. Betrayal. The same type of look Gav had given her. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just have to go.” She scrambled to her feet and quickly gathered her clothes.

  ***

  “GODDAMNIT!” ERIC SHOUTED after Mina left. The woman frustrated the hell out of him. Since their first encounter two days ago, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He felt almost obsessive, the way most women seemed to feel about him. Why was it that the one women he truly wanted was immune to his charm? His phone beeped, a welcome distraction. A message from Jennifer Wilson popped up.

  Fuck. What could he even say to her? Sorry, your husband is dead. Even more sorry I’m a suspect. Yeah, probably not. Why was she calling? They’d had a one-night stand when he’d first started with the company two years ago, but she’d barely looked his way since then. Not that he’d minded. Jennifer Wilson, after some interesting sex, left him feeling cold, as if her presence sapped the heat from his flesh. He shivered at the memory.

  The message read: Dinner tomorrow? 7:00 p. Want to talk. Our place.

  First, he thought, they didn’t have a place, but he knew she was talking about Finnegan’s, a bar off the Plaza. Second, he wasn’t sure meeting up with her was a good plan. After all, she was the grieving widow. His lawyer had told him to stay far away from her and anyone else closely connected to Samuel Wilson.

  Will let you know, he texted back. He’d talk to Mina and Barnes about it first. Jennifer might have some information on the real killer, and the only way to find out would be to sit down with her and talk. Though, the idea of meeting her filled him with dread. He pulled up Mina’s number and sent her a text, I want you.

  A few agonizing minutes passed, and finally, Mina answered, I want you too.

  ***

  MINA RACED HOME, showered and changed. No matter how much she loofahed, she couldn’t scrub off the guilt of having sex with Eric. Even worse, she couldn’t stop thinking about how much she wanted to do it again and again. How did she keep getting into these situations with the wrong kind of men—the type who wanted a long-term commitment? For someone who’d taken a vow to keep her love life casual, she couldn’t have picked two worse candidates to hook up with. Gav wanted a life mate, and Eric was practically family. She couldn’t ditch family after a one-night stand. Right?

  She just needed to focus less on relationship woes and more on the case. “I am a badass,” she mumbled as she got into a cab outside her apartment. Her comment drew a strange look from the driver.

  “Don’t judge me,” she told him. “Drop me at the Heston.” If she could find the note, the one that had taken Eric to the crime scene, it might be the first step to proving his innocence.

  Skipping the front desk, Mina went straight to housekeeping. An elderly man, his hair silver and slicked back, loaded his cle
aning cart. He had on blue coveralls, unzipped to the waist and the sleeves tied around his hips. The faded tattoo of a rifle crossed with a knife over a skull on his upper right arm marked him as ex-military, and by his age, most likely a Vietnam vet. Surprisingly, Mina didn’t feel any anger or resentment, only a methodical determination as he lined up stacked paper towels and disinfectant sprays.

  “Excuse me,” she said.

  He started at her voice. His pale green eyes assessed her. “I’m sorry, miss. Didn’t see you there. Can I help you?”

  “I was here last night for an event, and I’m afraid I lost something important. It might have been thrown away.”

  “That’s too bad. I’m afraid the trash from last night has already been tossed into the bins.”

  Mina inwardly groaned at her bad luck. “Do you know when pick-up is?”

  He raised his wiry brow. “Not until Wednesday, but there’s a lot of trash.”

  “If you could point me in the right direction.” She glanced at his blue coveralls. “Do you have an extra jumpsuit and some gloves?”

  The old man shook his head but smiled. “You are a determined lady.”

  “You bet.” When he handed her a clean set of work clothes and a handful of latex gloves, Mina took his rough, calloused hand in hers. “I appreciate your help, sir.”

  “Sam,” he replied.

  “Sam,” Mina acknowledged. “If I find what I’m looking for, I’m going to owe you a cup of coffee.”

  “And an explanation?”

  Mina laughed. “And an explanation.”

  “I’m here five days a week, Sunday through Thursday.”

  She held up the clothes and nodded. “Thanks again, Sam.”

  “You might not be thanking me after you start digging around out there.”

  He hadn’t been kidding. When Mina rounded the corner to the Dumpsters at the back of the hotel, the amazingly pungent stench made her gag. She started with the first on in the line and tore into multiple white trash bags. The stench was amazingly strong. It rivaled boiled cabbage and beer farts. She took some facial tissue from her purse and stuffed two wads up her nostrils.

  The first couple of bags were filled with paper towels, napkins, stale cigarette butts, ashes, business cards, half-eaten appetizers, and other items, but no note.

  When she ripped into the fifth bag and turned it out, a long silvery cylinder nearly landed in her lap. Mina picked it up before she realized what it was—a stainless steel metal vibrator. “Ack!” she squeaked, dropping it back onto the pile.

  Screw it. Time to go home, take a hot, hot bath and sterilize her skin, and then come back later with a biohazard suit and a gas mask.

  A homeless woman dressed in layers of shirts and two coats popped her head over the top of the Dumpster just as Mina climbed out.

  “My territory, bitch,” the old vagrant said in a gravelly smoker’s voice. Her dirty face pinched up. “Go find your own stash!”

  Mina got out and brushed off her jeans. “Pardon me. Didn’t realize you had a prior claim.”

  The bag lady picked up a sack, ripped into the side with her teeth, and pulled out the trash a little at a time. “Yessiree, this is Helma’s treasure. Everyone knows that. Mine and no one else’s.”

  Mina got the distinct impression Helma wasn’t talking to her anymore.

  “Bottle,” the bag lady said, tossing an empty wine bottle into her shopping cart. She unfolded a piece of paper. She crumpled it up. “Trash.” She threw it on the ground in front of the cart.

  Mina scooped it up. A note! Some of the words were smudged with chocolate sauce—at least, she hoped it was chocolate sauce. It said, “Call me. XXOO, Marcia” with a small heart to dot the “i” then listed a phone number. Damn it.

  “Drop my treasure, thief!” Helma screeched.

  “You said it was trash.”

  “Treasure!” she insisted.

  Mina shook her head and dropped the note. No sense in getting her all worked up.

  “Skunk tried to steal my stuff. I run it off, but good.” Helma cackled through a toothless grin. “Now go on! Scat.”

  “Skunk?” She scanned the area.

  “Skunk went. Old Helma gave it a good whack.” The old bag lady held up her fist. “Gonna whack the tower too if it doesn't get its skinny ass out of Helma’s territory.”

  The tower? It dawned on Mina the woman was talking about her. Then skunk… She remembered the white streak in the guy at the bar’s hair. Maybe… “When did you see the skunk, Helma?”

  “How do you know my name?” She pointed a bony finger. “You’re a warden. You’ve come to take me, haven’t you?” She began to croon, then roar.

  Mina saw a ripple under Helma’s skin and blanched. She was some kind of other worlder. “The wardens no longer exist.” Before Mina had been an assassin, she’d been a warden enforcer in service to a mad king. She knew firsthand the fear her kind had of wardens. She didn’t always agree with the new queen, but dissolving the group had been the right thing to do.

  “Take me away, take me away. I knew it. Watching me.” She beat her fists against her face. “It said it would be watching me.”

  “It? Who? The man. The skunk?”

  Helma’s head snapped up, her eyes had turned a milky yellow. “The crescent betrayer controls the snake who strikes from behind.” Her withered and gnarled hand flew up in front of Mina’s face. “You have been given hope, aural. Embrace the gift of Qetesh or perish.” Her irises cleared to pale blue. Her eyes widened, and her hand shook as she pointed at Mina. “You’re here to make me gone.”

  She’d heard of Qetesh in her training as a warden. Supposedly, the Egyptian goddess was the being from which all aurals were descended. Had Helma guessed Mina’s lineage? “What are you talking about? Who is the betrayer?”

  “You’re crazy,” the old woman shouted. She jammed her index finger against the side of her head, poking at her weather-beaten skin. “Crazy.”

  Mina stepped back from Helma. She didn’t want to hurt her, and it was obvious she had gone into a trance. She’d gone to see a seer once before, and Helma’s ramblings were on par for her kind. Non-nonsensical gobblety-gook that sounded ominous, dangerous, and undecipherable. Mina reached out to her.

  “It’s okay. I won’t harm you.”

  Helma jumped and started swinging her fists. “Don’t touch me! Don’t disappear me,” She cried.

  Mina took a deep breath. She needed to stick with the real world stuff. “Do you remember the man with the white in his hair? The one you called Skunk?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Tell me and you can have this. More treasure for Helma.”

  She put her hands over her ears and crouched low. “Don’t say my name, not out loud. There’s power in a name. There’s power. But I got away from the skunk, I did.”

  “Last night?”

  “The lights were flashing, noise wailing.” She made a siren sound. “Now get.”

  Dropping the twenty on the cart, Mina walked toward the gate of the tall privacy fence. Helma had seen the man from the bar run out the back of the hotel when the police came. One more clue that didn’t amount to much. At least not yet.

  Chapter Eight

  THE CAB DRIVER made sour faces at her all the way back to her apartment. Mina tipped him well. He deserved it. It was the quickest ride she’d ever had from any taxi service. Granted, the smell of “eau de garbage” had probably compelled him to step on the gas, but he was tactful enough not to mention it.

  After showering, she put on a green nightshirt and settled on the couch with a mug of herbal tea. She’d gone beyond tired.

  Where and who was this missing witness? The guy was a ghost. She wanted to call Gav—she always wanted to call Gav—but he wouldn’t willingly tell her anything about the case. Even if he hadn’t been pissed at her about the whole unable-to-commit-seeing-other-guys thing, he was tight-lipped about work.

  Instead, she called her business par
tner Bobby Porter. He picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Mina.”

  “I need your help.”

  “Murder case at the Heston Hotel?”

  Simultaneously, they both said, “Stokes.” John Stokes and Bobby went way back.

  “So he called you.”

  “I asked him to let me know if you ever got into trouble without me. You know how I hate to be left out.”

  “His husband Ritchie doesn’t mind that you both keep in touch.”

  “We’re just friends.”

  “Sure. Now.” Bobby and John had been lovers at one time, but Bobby had a few kinks John couldn’t abide, like the fact that Bobby liked vagina as much as he liked dick. He was a true-blue, dyed-in-the-wool bisexual, and John was gay. She’d stayed friends with John after the breakup, but she hadn’t realized he and Bobby still talked.

  “So, this help that you need,” Bobby said, smoothly changing the subject.

  “I have a ghost I need you to track down. A guy from the gala last night.”

  “Got a name.”

  “If I did, he wouldn’t be a ghost.”

  “Fair enough. Deets.”

  “About five-ten, short dark hair with a white patch in the front, medium build. Other than the white patch, he’s pretty non-descript.”

  “Anything else?”

  “He talked to the dead guy and after, he argued with Tobias Tolliver, a Samson exec, at the bar last night. He is also the guy who found Eric Bishop over the body in the bathroom. Beyond that, he’s disappeared and no one seems to know who the hell he is. According to Stokes, Tolliver told the police he had no recollection of the man. No witnesses either, except for me and the murder suspect.”

  “Got it. I’ll go down to the hotel first thing in the morning and get some video from last night pulled.”

  “Just like that?”

  “I know a guy.”

  Mina chuckled. “Of course you do. Call me when you know something.”