Chapter 19

Chapter19

I returned to the condo with freshly baked croissants from the bakery downstairs, and hopped in the shower—sadly reduced to using regular bar soap. If I was going to be taking seventy percent more disinfecting showers, I’d have to start buying bath wash in bulk. While the soap didn’t have the ooh là là luxury of the product that I only splurged on for my birthday, the hot water was certainly a balm for my sore body and exhausted spirit.

Once I was presentable, I joined Sachie for lattes in our kitchen, filling her in on the Brimstone Breakfast Club while rain slanted against the windows. The oppressive fall weather was tempered by our buttery-yellow walls, wooden cabinets with a rich honeyed finish, and a cozy breakfast nook with a cheery sunflower fabric on the bench. It made the room feel like a sunny haven on the gloomiest days.

All of it gave me a much-needed semblance of normality and comfort, but my calm came from more than that. The fact was I couldn’t dance to Delacroix’s tune because I’d been doing all I could and he still put me through— My brain skidded away from the memory.

Delacroix was literally the house at a casino, where every game was rigged in his favor. There was no point trying to win at his table.

Besides, this wasn’t a game, it was my life. I had to chart my own course, and right now, that meant gently bobbing in a decades-long haven of a friendship to get into the right mindset for the work ahead.

“That shedim is worse than drug-resistant gonorrhea,” Sachie said when my tale was finished.

She squeezed my hand, and if we held tight to each other for a few seconds longer than was normal, well, that was okay.

Sachie dug in the bag for a second croissant. “What happened with Point Break last night?”

She agreed with my call to withhold the information from Olivier that Jordy wasn’t the murder victim in the photos. “Be careful. Detective Desmond has you in his sights now.” She lathered raspberry jam on the pastry. “Wow. A demon and a cop both taking an interest in you. Your popularity is on the rise. I was worried you wouldn’t ever bounce back from that unfortunate bathing suit incident in our sixth-grade camping trip that lost you most of your friends other than moi, of course, but look at you.”

I threw a napkin at her. “Too soon, you shit.” I licked my finger to gather the crumbs on my plate. “So much for any romantic prospects with Olivier.”

“It could become an enemies-to-lovers situation.”

Not another one. Though, I guess Ezra and I were more lovers to enemies. “Mmm,” I said noncommittally.

She narrowed her eyes, her mug halfway to her lips. “Oh no. No. No. No. What did you do with Ezra?”

“We were talking about Olivier.”

“And that’s an Ezra look.”

“I haven’t done anything.” I sipped my latte with a deliberate and hopefully not forced nonchalance.

“Liar.” She whipped an ice pick out of her shirt.

“Jesus.” I sloshed coffee onto my hand and quickly blotted it off with a napkin. “Where were you hiding that?”

“Special side holster on my bra.”

“Nice. But how do you keep from stabbing yourself?”

She pulled off the clear plastic safety tip. “Now stop deflecting. Did you sleep with Ezra?”

“No. But…” I dropped my gaze to my mug, running my finger around the rim. “We kissed.”

“At the Copper Hell?”

“No. When we were at the safehouse in London. Before you and Darsh showed up.”

The ice pick clattered to the table. “That was days ago!” she sputtered. “You kept your lack of impulse control and insanely poor judgment from me all this time?”

I leveled a flat stare at her. “And here I thought you’d disapprove.”

Muttering under her breath, Sachie hit some keys on her phone.

I braced myself for the familiar strains of “Gaston” from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast to drown out the hum of the dishwasher. She’d forced me into endless rounds of karaoke on her Disney villains playlist after Ezra and I broke up. It had been a lifesaver, but if I heard that song one more time, I might strangle myself and undo all her good work.

She slid the phone over to me. “Here, check this app out. Sarah and Parminder both raved about the guys they’ve met.”

I frowned at the dating site home page. “I’m not interested. Work is my priority right now.”

“Work is the problem because it keeps you in Ezra’s orbit.”

“We had one kiss, born of adrenaline, and now firmly in the past.” Because I’ve crossed over into hug fetishes now. Like an idiot.

“Ezra aside,” Sach said, “you’ve been so focused on achieving level three operative that you’ve neglected your personal life. You’re sure you can’t repair things with Point Break? I had high hopes for him.”

I shook my head. The truth was that even if I could, I no longer wished to. When I met someone I clicked with, I’d be keeping a major secret from him. I was already worried about how Sachie and Darsh would react to Cherry, I wouldn’t want to throw someone else I cared about into the mix.

But damn, I missed the feeling of someone’s hands on my body and that delicious moment after they slid inside me, when they consumed my senses. No thinking, no feeling anything except these physical sensations. It was way better than meditation.

I narrowed my eyes. Sexual attraction to Ezra didn’t scare me, but our hug did. It shook me up. No, it swept me up, making me feel at the mercy of my emotions for him, and I refused to feel that way again.

Was the answer to getting past these unwanted feels to fuck Ezra out of my system? Redirect us back onto safer ground because this would only be sex—and sex on my terms?

Hit it and quit it?

“Are you thinking about your dating profile?” Sachie said hopefully. “Because I volunteer to weed out guys for you so you only see the winners. No work on your end, just a fun decision of choosing between only good options on the menu.”

“Ezra and I are still attracted to each other.”

“Thanks, I have eyes.” She hastily swiped through the app store. “What about the Happily-Ever-After app? That sounds like a nice place to start, and I have tons of great photos of you we could use.”

I winced. She was going off the deep end. “Do I get a twittering bird or a prancing deer avatar for meeting Prince Charming? Should I provide my shoe size? Does it come with a playlist?”

Sachie narrowed her eyes, visions of ice picks and dirks no doubt dancing in her mind.

Right. Provoking the predator bad. I made calming motions with my hands, and went for a little levity. “Seeing as I’ve already parted my lips for Ezra, perhaps my legs should not be far behind. I could be as the Red Sea with a wet parting.”

A muscle ticked in Sachie’s jaw.

“Better that than a burning bush?” I joked. Her muscle ticked two more times. “I’m not going to fall for Ezra or try to work things out. I’m talking one night of mind-blowing sex to get him out of my system. That was part of the problem the last time. Things didn’t end on my terms, so this is me rectifying that. Plus, I don’t have to be scared of him walking away.”

“Because been there, done that?” Sachie said. “I’m not sure it works that way.”

“Because I’ll walk away first.”

There was a strange sense of happiness in that sentiment, an odd relief that I’d finally hold the upper hand in this intricate dance we’d been locked in. He’d be reassigned soon enough, so technically, he’d be leaving, but symbolically, it was my turn to decide when to step onto the floor and when to gracefully bow out. I’d control the narrative this time.

“You’ve lost your mind.” Sachie picked up the weapon, fingering its tip. “I see I’ve been going about this all wrong. I intended to stab Ezra if he broke your heart again. I’ve made lots of ‘just in case’ notes during this investigation, but apparently, I need to root out the problem at its source.” She pointed the ice pick at me.

I brushed it carefully aside. “I can fuck people without falling in love or wanting more.”

“And hopefully you will again, grasshopper. But on the Happily-Ever-After app. Or the deviant sex app. Or any of a thousand million other options. Not your ex. You and Ezra are a car crash, Avi. Why can’t you see that?”

“I’m suggesting this plan precisely because this collision is inevitable. We’re both Maccabees. We can’t refuse to work together because of past history. I’m trying to make this collision a hit-a-patch-of-black-ice-skid-together-in-slow-motion, versus the sudden T-boned-by-a-semi that happened to me last time.”

“You’re full of metaphors today, aren’t you?”

I shrugged. “I’m on a roll. But like I said, it’s happening in slo-mo. I can engage defensive safety measures and walk away unscathed. Use a firm hand on the wheel, employ good rubber tires, don’t pump the brakes.” I made the motion with my fist, hoping to earn a smile.

Sachie replaced the cap on the ice pick and stashed it in her boob holder. “I love you,” she said quietly, “but I can’t go through that again.”

I dropped my gaze to the table.

My friend recently had a big fight with her parents when she told them of her transfer to the Spook Squad. This had been the main point of contention for years in an otherwise close relationship. She didn’t want to talk about it, but their estrangement was eating her up, and I didn’t blame her for not being capable of dealing with my situation. Especially since she’d already shepherded me safely through the darkness once before.

“You won’t have to,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I promise. I’m a big girl, and if I do this, I do it with my eyes wide open. Trust me? Please?”

She nodded reluctantly.

“Speaking of a certain Prime, however.” I applied the red lipstick that I’d left on the table a few days ago. It went perfectly with my red tailored pantsuit and was required to help fortify me today. “Ezra might have gone back to the Copper Hell last night. I haven’t heard from him. Darsh either. How about you?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t love that, but let’s go with no news is good news.” I put my dishes in the sink. “Do you want to come with me to visit Rukhsana on our way into work? I want to get to the bottom of this before Olivier does.”

Sachie patted the ice pick stashed by her boob. “I got you covered. Even when you make bad decisions, but especially when you don’t.”

I laughed. Sachie truly was the best.

It’s not like I’d forgotten the watery blade at my neck if I didn’t find Calista, but I didn’t think that combing through Quentin’s laptop would yield a magic bullet. Putting it off for an hour wouldn’t matter, especially when there was a better chance of Darsh and Ezra returning with something useful.

Besides, I was worried about Rukhsana and Jordy and still determined to learn whether Sire’s Spark was connected to the slain half shedim on our previous case.

Sadly, we showed up to the chop shop to find Rukhsana had cleaned it out—both the business and her office. Worse, when we exited the loading bay, Olivier lounged against the brick alley wall.

At least it had stopped raining.

“Come here often?” He snorted at my blink of surprise. “Yeah, us dumb Trad cops figured out who George Green works for.”

“I’ve never thought you were stupid, Olivier.” Those officers hadn’t yet discovered the true identity of the dead man, but if Jordy and I hadn’t once discussed piercings and tattoos, I wouldn’t have realized he wasn’t the vic either since I’d never seen him without his beard.

Rather than Olivier appearing mollified by my honest statement, his frown deepened.

“I also didn’t think you were on this case,” I said.

“I’ve taken a special interest. Tell me what’s going on.”

“No can do,” Sachie said. “Confidentiality and all that.”

“Sachie Saito, right? I’ve heard about you.” He crossed his arms.

My friend burst out a happy, two-dimple smile and jammed her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. “I love when my reputation precedes me. A pleasure to meet you, Point Break.”

Olivier narrowed his eyes.

I stepped in between them. “I don’t know what’s going on and that’s the truth. I told you I suspected that Sire’s Spark is magic. While I can’t prove it yet, Rukhsana didn’t steal those artifacts from the gallery. Technically, she doesn’t steal cars either.”

“Splitting hairs, Fleischer. Word on the street is that she jacked the exhibit, yet you’re pretty quick to defend her.”

Her name was being tossed around in conjunction with the theft? To the point that the cops heard the rumor? Rukhsana had said more than once that her reputation was everything. She was also ruthless. What if the murdered man’s name really was George Green, a different George Green than Jordy, and that unfortunate coincidence was what brought all this trouble to her door?

How far would she go to deal with it?

“I’m not defending her because of an emotional connection,” I said. “I’m using logic based on years of knowing how she runs her business.”

“Yeah? So how are you tangled up with her?” He raked a hard “break the witness” gaze over me.

Like I hadn’t used that move on the regular myself. I almost rolled my eyes.

Sach showed no such restraint, snorting loudly.

Olivier glared at her. “Got something to say, Rambolette?”

A sinister glimmer danced in Sachie’s eyes.

“Back to Rukhsana,” I said. There was no way I was outing my prime informant right now. Nothing about this felt right as a Rukhsana-sanctioned job, but why did someone want to frame her for it and why had she closed up shop? Was she in danger? More danger than being bashed in the head?

“Your mom signed off on Trads handling this,” Olivier said.

“My mom?” I clenched my fists, well and truly pissed off now. “That’s Director Fleischer to you.”

He held up his hands. “Sorry. That was unprofessional. Still, until I get official word that something has changed, I’ll have to regard any investigation on your end as interference. Can you trust me to unravel this?”

“I trust that you’re a great officer and committed to justice, Olivier. I really do.”

“But Rukhsana is your informant, and you want to protect her.” He sighed.

“Smarter than the average bear, aren’t you?” Sachie said.

“Armed to the teeth, aren’t you?” he replied.

Her smile this time was almost as sharp as her ice pick.

The charged air between them was delightfully amusing. I made a note to try to get them to have dinner together. While I was in the restaurant creeping on them, of course. They’d either hit it off, or kill each other, and either way, it would be a great night of entertainment for me.

However, now was not the time. I pointedly cleared my throat.

Olivier blinked like he’d forgotten I was there.

I shot Sachie a wicked grin; she scratched her cheek with her middle finger in reply.

“Will you at least give me a heads-up if you’re getting in over your head? One person’s dead already.” The concern in his voice was clear.

I forgave him my earlier frustration. Olivier honestly meant to do the right thing, both for the case and for me.

“I’ll do my best. And I’ll try to stay out of your way. I truly don’t want to compromise your investigation.”

“Guess that’s the most I can hope for.” He peeled off the wall and, with a small salute, walked out of the alley.

Sachie and I tracked him—okay, we tracked his tight ass—until he’d turned the corner and was lost to view.

“What was it you said?” I looped my arm through hers as we returned to the car. “He could curl your wave? Maybe he’ll humpback you. Or rail bang you.”

“I think that means getting hit by a surfboard between the legs.”

“Don’t bring reality into euphemisms, Sach.”

“My bad. But no, there will be no rail banging.” She sounded pretty firm about that, but I hadn’t been best friends with her for most of my life to know the reason.

“Anything I hoped would happen between us didn’t and won’t. It’s all clear if you’re interested.”

“I’m not.” She sniffed primly. “He called me Rambolette.”

I grinned. “Yeah, he did.”

We got back to my car (I couldn’t handle Sachie driving twice in two days), and she immediately agreed to one more quick stop.

Mason Trinh refused to let us into his neat ranch-style home. He stood behind his screen door in a sweater and jeans, looking tired. “If you’re here to guilt me into going back to work, do it from the porch.” He motioned us back. “On the step. In the puddle.”

“Fine.” Sachie kicked water at his door with her Doc Martens. “We’ll come here every day and annoy you until you go back to work, you stubborn old bat.”

“Please come back,” I said. “You’ve had this brilliant career, Mason. The spa should not be the case that you end on.”

“I lost a body, kiddo.”

“No, you were fucked with. And I’m as much to blame as you are. More. I was lead at the scene.” Ezra told me to lock it down until he got there, but I’d been so determined to be in control. I should have hung up the damn phone and raced out to ensure my team’s safety.

I couldn’t tell Mason that, however, because then I’d have to disclose that Calista was a Prime.

“You failed to psychically foresee the one-in-a-million possibility of someone cleansing our memories.” Mason opened the door, stepped onto the tiny landing, and made the sign of the cross. “I absolve you of your guilt.”

“I’m Jewish.”

He made a Star of David.

“I’m not looking for absolution,” I said.

“Yeah, well, you get it anyway.” He gentled his cranky tone. “I’m not coming back.”

“What are you going to do at home?” Sachie challenged. “You look tired. Come back to work and you’ll be energized.”

“Gee, thanks, Saito. I’m gutted my skin care regime isn’t doing more for me. I’m tired because my wife has signed us up for every activity under the sun. She’s got us curling. Sweeping a ball on ice. It’s preposterous.” He shot a fond look inside.

I frowned. “You’re taking medical leave until your retirement because you’re…happy?”

“I’m taking medical leave because I can cash out all those sweet, sweet paid sick days I’m owed and take my honey on the Alaskan cruise we never had time for. The happy is a side perk.” He gazed off into the distance. “Almost every retired Maccabee I know has that one case that made them walk away. This was mine.” He snapped his gaze back to ours. “It was a good run and now it’s time to leave. I have no regrets.”

“Mason!” a woman called from inside. “Ten minutes until book club.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He turned back to us and gave a resigned sigh. “Tell anyone I did this, and I’ll deny it, but…” He held out his arms.

We did a group hug—for all of five seconds. Then he stepped inside the house and closed the screen door. “Now get lost. I’ve got nine minutes to make up some bullshit about The Old Man and the Sea. An old guy takes eighty-five days to catch a fish and I’m supposed to be profound about it.”

“We’re going,” I said, “but don’t be a stranger. I’m not sure what I’ll do if you’re not around to heckle me on a semi-regular basis. I might get some self-esteem or something.”

“Can’t have that happening.”

We were halfway down the front walk to the car when he called out, “You two are two of the best and brightest I’ve ever seen. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Sach and I spun around, but he’d already slammed the door closed.

I wiped the moisture out of one eye. “Well, damn.”

“He had to get the last word in,” Sachie grumbled. She nudged me. “You ever worry when you get a new case that it might be the one that breaks you?”

“Yes. All the time.” But I didn’t mean it like she thought. I didn’t worry about walking away from my career, I worried that Cherry would be revealed, and I wouldn’t have a choice.