Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Cain

"Right here. I'm not looking."

Like fuck I'm not. I notice everything about her, from the way her fingers graze the pulse at her neck, to the wispy ringlets of hair that cling to her temple, still damp from the sudden summer shower that caught us unawares. I'm aware of her delicate scent, clean and fresh yet feminine, like moon-kissed dew. I'm aware that despite her training and level of fitness, of how easily I could hurt her.

I remember the way she felt pinned beneath me, how I held my weight above her so I wouldn't hurt her, both wrists gathered in my hand.

I remember how I liked it.

"Be quick about it, we're five minutes out."

"Not a problem."

She unfolds the tank, then wriggles it through the collar. Holding my T-shirt over her like a tent, she shimmies and wriggles and huffs into the clothes. If I wasn't so pissed and ready to kill, I'd find it amusing. Less than a minute later, she tosses the wet tee on the dash. I glance at her. She's dressed, and the clothes don't fit her well, but they'll stay on her for now. Next, she pulls the socks and boots on.

"We'll arrive in two minutes. We'll question everyone who's there and get all the details we can. What languages do you speak, Miss Price?"

"I'm fluent in French, Italian, German, and Japanese. I can get by in Portuguese and Russian, though don't ask me to write either."

She's being modest. She also knows passable Greek and Hindi as well.

I'm fucking hard just listening to her list some of her many talents.

"Noted. We'll get into why I hired you later, but for now I want you to know that I needed a woman on my team. There are places a petite woman like you can fit a lot more easily than a man like me or many on my team, and your skill set will also come in handy."

She nods.

"When you're proficient with a gun, you'll conceal and carry."

"Don't I need a license?"

"I'll take care of it. For now, if we get into a dangerous place, you'll use the skills you already have, but only at my command. You do not, under any circumstances, act without my permission."

"I thought we were just going to investigate."

"We are. I like to be prepared. Lesson one, Miss Price. Investigations can turn sour, and easily."

She nods, frowning as she looks out the window. "Why are the streetlights on during the day? That's odd."

I look to where she does. Each streetlight glows with a dim yellow light. I mentally commend her for noticing a detail I didn't. One of the reasons I hired her.

I flick a button on my phone. Joe answers immediately.

"Boss?"

"Check the electric grid between North and Downey Road. See if you notice any unusual activity."

I hang up the phone. I turn to Violet and point toward a sheathed knife on the console. "Have you ever used a knife?" I know for a fact she has, it's one of the many skills her studio has taught her that they don't advertise.

Though she doesn't answer me at first, I can tell just by the way she takes the ankle sheath she's skilled in knife use. In seconds, the sheath's safely secured under her pant leg, but easy to retrieve at a moment's notice. Throwing knives are long and sharp, and this one is no exception.

"Knives and I are BFFs, you could say."

We'll work on honesty, a two-way street. Eventually I'll tell her exactly why I've watched her and looked into her past. My reasoning is pretty simple and honest, but I know that if I tell her too much too soon, I could push her away. I can't risk that, not now.

I try to discreetly watch as she gets out of the cab of the truck, but I had nothing to worry about. She swings herself down like an expert, with grace and fluidity. Perfect. Something tells me I won't regret hiring her.

We walk at a good clip to Skylar's apartment building, but Violet pauses just outside the door. "Wait!"

I tamp down irritation. I don't like waiting, and I want to get this done. But she's fallen to one knee outside the door. She reaches out, fingering something I don't see right away.

"What is it?"

She shakes her head. "Flowers."

"Right. I'm sure there are flowers everywhere. I don't want to waste any?—"

"No. No, listen." She stands, holding a delicate spray of tiny white flowers. "Baby's breath. I found the same flowers outside my car yesterday, these and a little purple one. Before I got into the accident."

"Coincidence?"

Her gaze is troubled when she looks at me. "Could be. We should note it, though."

"Noted. Now can we move on, please?"

My phone rings. Joe.

"Yeah?"

"Someone fucked with the electricity on that block last night. There are reports of the lights going off from dusk to this morning, and since they're set on auto, they came back on this morning when they don't usually."

"Thanks." I tell Violet, who only frowns but nods.

"Do you have like a special bag or something to hold evidence? We should maybe?—"

I do not have the time or patience for this.

"For fuck's sake, stuff them in your bra if you're that worried." I turn to the door and push the doorbell. Out of the corner of my eye, she makes a gesture that could be flipping me off, but when I look sharply back at her, she shrugs her shoulders at me innocently. Probably just as well. Hauling her over my knee to teach her respect probably wouldn't go over too well right now.

The flowers are gone. I wonder if she took my advice. I imagine them pressed up against her perfect breasts, and with effort, pull my mind back to the job.

I turn back to the door at the sound of footsteps heading our way. Like many apartment buildings in downtown Salem, the door and stoop are aged with time and wear. A potted plant, the leaves dried and dead, sits to one side of the stairs. Below us, on the ground, my eyes fall on a crumpled condom. I hate that Skylar lives here.

Someone speaks to us through the door. "Who's there?" Lottie.

"Cain, Skylar's brother. Open up, please." The please is an afterthought. I try to remember my manners. Manners can sometimes get you places, but they're damn inconvenient.

Hushed voices rise and fall on the other side. Violet and I look at each other in silence as the door stays shut.

She shakes her head. "Now remember, you can't just go in there and kill them," she says in a whisper so soft I can barely hear her. I didn't even realize my hand was already grazing the butt of my gun. It's a little scary how she reads my mind.

"Why not?" I whisper back. I've killed for less than this, and I'd do it again. This is my sister we're talking about, my goddamn sister, and if anyone hurts her?—

"Laws," Violet whispers. "You're no good to your sister in jail or dead yourself."

"Fucking logic." She can try all she wants, but she won't stop me if anyone's hurt Skylar. No one will.

I turn back to the door and raise my hand to knock, when I hear the clicking of metal, and the doorknob turns. Lottie, my sister's roommate and best friend, stares at me with wide, haunted eyes behind thick glasses. Her purplish black hair's in braids on either side of her head, and she wears a black cape with a black and silver dress over her curvy body. Someone I've never seen before—man or woman, I don't know yet, dressed in drab black clothing with long dark hair— stands next to her.

Lottie's voice is pained. "I didn't do it, Mr. Master. I had nothing to do with it."

Never a good way to begin a conversation.

"Do what?" I just want to get inside so I can ask some questions. I take a step toward her, and she steps back. Violet watches us both curiously.

"Any-anything." She's terrified of me.

Sometimes, that works against me. Sometimes it's in my favor.

I consider shoving past them to get inside, demanding answers to questions and scouring the place for clues, but I know that brute force isn't always the best response.

I look to Violet, and with subtle eye movements and a slight jerk of my head, silently ask her to get us in here without someone shitting their pants.

She steps forward, a smile on her lips.

"We didn't think you were to blame." Her voice exudes confidence and grace. She looks so small, so wholesome, no one would realize how quickly and easily she could cut or maim them. Her voice gentled, she stands close to me, as if showing with her physical presence that she's with me, and we mean no harm. "We're concerned, though, and want to help. Let us in, please?"

Lottie releases a breath, steps aside, and beckons for us to go in.

The sweet, nearly acrid smell of incense hits me when we set foot inside. It's hard to tell it's daytime, with the blinds drawn and nothing but candles lighting our way. Several cats curl around my ankles before gracefully gliding away. I take in every detail I can. Skylar's never invited me, but I've had surveillance on it since she came here. I know the basic layout, but now I'm looking for other details.

It's a small, crowded apartment. Two bedrooms? The kitchen sink is tidy but cluttered, dishes stacked on a drying rack that's nearly bursting. Beside the dishes there's a stack of coffee mugs, Zodiac signs engraved on the outsides of them. A velvet cushion lies on a table to the left, and several long, carved sticks that look like wands sit atop it. A carved structure featuring three women in dresses, holding hands around a white candle base, sits to the left of the cushion with the word goddess engraved below, and beside the candle a long incense burner casts smoke heavenward. The scent grows stronger.

On one wall several silver pendulums hang on a silver peg, and in the living room, there's a stand with a large, clear sphere. A crystal ball? Several dragons are displayed on the walls, some carved in 3D and some flat prints. The door to one bedroom's ajar, revealing an unmade bed and a large stack of unfolded laundry in a wicker basket. One of the cats walks into the room, quickly swallowed up by darkness.

"Miss Price, meet Lottie. Lottie, Miss Price. Lottie's Skylar's best friend and roommate."

"Pleased to meet you." Violet sticks her hand out, but Lottie doesn't take it. She stares at her, untrusting.

I turn to her companion. "And you are?"

"Haven, my boyfriend," Lottie says. He gives me a jerky nod, then steps back, falling into the shadows. Can't speak for himself? Interesting. I turn back to Lottie.

"You called us. What has you concerned?"

Lottie wrings her hands and paces in front of me. "Skylar had a date. Someone we met at a local gathering."

Gathering. What exactly is a gathering? I do my best to reserve judgment, but it's hard, seeing the dark, cramped apartment my sister shares with her friends, knowing I'm fully capable of putting her in a bigger, better place.

"They were supposed to go to dinner," Lottie says. "They had plans, and she even told me where they were going." Tears brim behind her glasses.

"Where?"

"Bubbles and Broomsticks." Pretty common name. In a city like Salem, over a quarter of the local establishments features names playing off some variation of the word "witch."

"She went to meet him, and she came home earlier than she expected. She'd texted me that the guy creeped her out."

"Did she give you specifics? What exactly creeped her out?"

I fucking hate that my sister went out on a date with someone she didn't trust and I didn't know.

I pace in the kitchen, trying to ignore the way I want to break things. My hands clench, and I try to steady my breathing. I hate this. If they hadn't tampered with anything, I'd have gotten full footage of everything. "And I have no idea where she is because you two thought it smart to remove all surveillance."

Violet places a gentle hand on my arm. My skin heats where she touches me, and I take in a calming breath. My fingers unclench, relaxing by my sides.

I didn't know she'd have that effect on me.

Lottie doesn't respond but plays with a silver lip piercing, her brows drawn together over her large glasses.

"What happened after she came home?"

"Well, about an hour later, I heard the front door open and close again. I yelled after her, but either she ignored me, or she didn't hear me. Honestly either could've happened."

"Did you see her?" Violet asks.

"When she came home?"

"Yeah."

Lottie shakes her head.

"So she didn't respond, and you didn't see her," Violet says. "Is it feasible that it was someone else who came into the house and left again?"

Lottie's magnified eyes widen. "Oh. Oh, God, I didn't think of that."

"Do you lock your door?" Violet asks, shooting me another look as if to warn me not to lose my shit.

"Well… sometimes, yes, sometimes no."

Even Violet looks frustrated at this point. "Lottie, this is important. Did you lock the door last night?"

Lottie winces. "I have no idea."

Violet's lips thin. I run my thumb over the metal handle of my gun to calm my nerves.

"So she probably didn't come home," I supply.

"No."

Lottie's companion shifts on his feet, as if enduring something uncomfortable.

Violet keeps her voice gentle. "What makes you think she didn't just go back out with him? Why call us?"

She turns to face me. "She left her phone here. She didn't tell me where she was going. And that on its own might not have really concerned me. But we have a rule, we always tell each other where the other's going."

The one smart fucking thing she's told me today.

"I'm going into her room," I tell Lottie over my shoulder, halfway in.

"Mr. Master, I don't think that's a wise idea?—"

I ignore her. Violet walks in behind me and voices my thoughts when she looks around the room.

"Oooh. Oh my."

The gauzy black curtains are drawn over the windows, but it isn't dark enough to hide the large, king-sized bed decorated with a circular, plush blanket in purples and blacks, the skeletons that dance along every flat surface in a macabre display, or the feathery dream catchers that hang from the ceiling. That isn't what's got my attention, though, nor Violet's.

A curved, black leather chair sits in one corner of the room.

"Is that what I think it is?" I say out of the corner of my mouth to Violet.

"A chair designed for tantric sex and multiple positions or partners?" Violet responds. "Ohhh yeah."

I curse under my breath. "And you know this because…"

"I believe that question violates our confidentiality agreement, Mr. Master."

"We don't have a confidentiality agreement, Miss Price."

Her tight-lipped smile makes me want to smack her saucy little ass.

She steps further into the room and looks around. "Something for sure's off," she says. "Look."

She points to where Skylar's phone sits, plugged into the wall. Her laptop's beside it, and the little bowl for her cats is empty. "No way she'd leave without putting fresh water and food out for her pets."

Lottie stands in the doorway. "And you called the police?"

"I did." She sighs. "They won't touch the case. They said that she hasn't been missing long enough and we have no evidence."

What she doesn't say is that knowing I'm Skylar's brother doesn't help the situation.

Violet's frowning, my sister's phone in her hand. It's password-protected, and she hasn't gotten far with it.

"We're taking this with us," she says. "I'm sure I'll be able to get in."

Lottie doesn't protest.

Moons line every surface of the room. Half-moons pinned to the wall with Latin phrases I don't know, a full moon framed in silver above an end table that's actually a half-moon shape.

"Why all the moons?"

Violet frowns, her eyes quickly flitting over every detail. "You said she was dating a vampire?"

"Miss Price, there's no such thing as fucking vampires."

She nods. "Look, there may not be in our world—in the practical world we both inhabit—but in hers? There are. And it's noteworthy."

I give her this and don't argue again.

After scouring Skylar's room and the rest of the apartment, I get directions for Bubbles and Broomsticks. Back in the truck, Violet frowns as she fiddles with Skylar's phone. She's tried her birthday, her astrological sign, every obvious password she could think of, and finally locks herself out of it for fifteen minutes.

"Damn it," she mutters, scowling. She takes her own phone out. "Have you noticed that your sister's companions are all sort of outcasts? You've got Lottie, who's sweet but wears glasses, is overweight and dresses in costumes. Probably not the most popular girl in her class. Were all her friends sort of unpopular?"

"Mhm."

I flick on the directionals and take a left.

"Like… the boyfriend who's essentially androgynous, and I bet if we investigated her other friends, we'd find something similar."

I nod, not sure how this has anything to do with the case.

"Our goal right now is to bring back everything we can to my men. Tonight, we'll go over every detail and see what we can piece together."

"Your men. That sounds so…" Her voice trails off.

"So what?"

"Like, masculine."

I grunt. "What should I call them? My employees?"

She shrugs and gets a little haughty. "It's just that they're not all men anymore."

I look at her full breasts, her petite little body, and those pursed lips I want to kiss. "They're definitely not."

I pull up onto the highway, twenty minutes out from the restaurant we need to investigate. A car whizzes past us so closely, Violet screams. It hits my left tire, ricochets forward, and I have to slam on my brakes to keep it steady.

Violet gasps. "What was that?" I'm already accelerating, following the small black Mazda.

"Are you road raging after them?"

"Me? Road rage? What makes you think I have road rage?"

I'll fucking kill them.

"That was not an accident," Violet says. She's sitting straight up next to me, hands on the dash. "They so did that on purpose."

I'm gaining on them, as they take a sharp right and exit the highway.

"Uh yeah, no reason," she says with a grimace as I follow them off the highway. Horns blare as the light turns red and I plow through it, gaining on them. Someone flips me the bird. The truck's too big to chase them too closely.

"Get the plate," I tell her.

"On it."

The car zigzags in and out of traffic, way too quickly for my huge truck to follow them. I curse under my breath.

"This is not a good getaway car," she mutters.

"No, but it off-roads like a motherfucker and there isn't a better place to be when the shit hits the fan." The glass is shatterproof, the wheels reinforced and nearly invincible. I could mow down a goddamn semi if I had to.

"You can't chase them now, though." She mumbles something under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I said, ‘thank God,'" she says loudly. "Not sure what you'd do to them in your present state of mind."

"You work for me now. That means accepting anything and everything that working with me entails. Under any and all circumstances. Understood?"

She nods. "Yes, of course. Why do you think they would hit us?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"It is, but I want your take. No stone unturned and all that."

"They hit us because they have something to hide. They don't want us on this case. It was a stupid, pussy threat."

I hate that someone basically assaulted us and got away with it.

I call Joe. "Run this plate." I repeat the plate number Violet gives me.

We're going to get answers, and we're going to get them now.