Читать книгу: «Something Wicked»

Chapter One

She’d only been at the restaurant five minutes and already a freaking ghost had zeroed in on her.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

Alexandra King jerked her gaze away from the tall man in the corner near the bar—the one wearing a double-breasted black coat with a gray vest underneath—and drummed her fingers against the table top as she waited for her waitress to bring her a bowl of she-crab soup and Caesar salad. The white cotton shirt the man wore was too long for his arms and erupted in ruffles at his wrists. His hair curled below a low Derby hat, and he looked as real as any flesh-and-blood man in this place.

Except for the bloody gash at his throat.

She couldn’t help it. She risked another glimpse in his direction. Still watching her, the dead man tipped his hat and winked at her.

Pushing out of her chair, Alexandra shoved her way through the small crowd of people gathered for a Wednesday evening outing at the Southend Brewery and Smokehouse in historic Charleston, South Carolina, and headed toward the sign marked Restrooms.

This stylish specter made about the tenth dead person she’d seen since checking into her room at the inn forty minutes ago. Thankfully none had shown more than a passing interest in her…so far.

She glanced over her shoulder to see if this ghost was going to make a pest of himself. He didn’t seem to be following. Good.

Derby Hat Guy was behind the bar now, pouring himself a draft, unseen by the bartender shuffling around him. Stifling a chuckle, she ducked her head and pretended to find the floor interesting. She’d learned long ago that if she ignored dead people, nine times out of ten, they would do the same. It was the ones who didn’t that gave her headaches as they chipped away at her mental barrier, made her lose sleep, and do stupid stuff like fly hundreds of miles to hunt down a person she didn’t know.

A vibration against her right hip distracted her, and she dug her phone out of her pocket. Glancing at the caller ID, a smile tugged at her lips as she saw her newest—and possibly closest—friend’s picture on the display. She leaned against the wall outside the ladies room and focused on the call.

“Hey, Hannah. Did you get my text?” She’d sent a quick one as soon as she’d landed to let her friend know she had arrived safely.

“Yep. You made it there okay? No problems with the flight or getting checked into the hotel?”

“The flight was surprisingly easy, and the place you chose for me to stay at is incredible. More like an apartment than a hotel.” Much better than the dumps where she usually stayed anyway. It had been her fortune, meeting Hannah Dawson three months ago. Not only was the woman richer than sin but she had a generous heart that extended to her friends and anyone she assessed had a dire need.

In this case, that had included Alexandra on both counts.

“Good. I wish I’d been able to come with you. You’re doing me as much of a favor as yourself.” Hannah’s voice lowered a notch. “Zach is still being stubborn.”

Alexandra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. When wasn’t Zachary Collins stubborn?

She’d come to appreciate just how pigheaded the man was when she accepted a job working for him at his private security and investigations agency a few months ago.

The steady paycheck was hella nice, and she loved using her gifts as a psychic medium to help people. Already she’d assisted a family in finding their runaway daughter and helped a desperate single mother locate the good-for-nothing ex-husband who owed her thousands in child support.

Dead people could be so full of useful information.

But she and Zach had butted heads more than once—usually over the fact he refused to use their resources to track down his younger brother and make amends for something—what, she had no idea.

None of her business. She got that. She was fine with that. She would’ve stayed fine with it, but Zach’s dead mother had taken up residence in Alexandra’s new apartment and refused to leave until her two sons had been reunited. Every time Alexandra lowered her guard, oh look, there was Rebecca Collins again, harping on about her sons. Zachary this. Dylan that. Nag, nag, nag.

Stupid ghost was driving her insane.

“Yeah, well, tenacity must run in the Collins family,” Alexandra told Hannah. “I’ve been trying for weeks to get his mom to cross over, or at least get the heck outta my apartment. She doesn’t listen either.”

Hannah snorted. “I’d believe it. Once Zach gets an idea in his head, he doesn’t let go.”

“Still pestering you to move in with him, huh?”

“Yes.” Hannah drew the word out on a long-suffering sigh. “It’s not even that I don’t want to. It’s like I’ve told you before. I am crazy about the man, but we need to get to know each other better before we both dive into the deep end. Plus, I’d feel better if he patched things up with his brother first. I know it’s important to him, even if he won’t admit it.”

“Hopefully, the lead that Spider got for us will pan out.” Alexandra twirled the ends of her long blonde hair between two fingers. Two guys at the bar hadn’t even noticed yet that the bar’s friendly spirit had switched their drinks while they’d been distracted checking out the female bartender. Oh my. This was a mischievous ole fellow. “If Dylan Collins is in Charleston like Spider thinks, I’ll find him.”

The young female hacker Zach had hired to bring his security firm into the twenty-first century had become everyone on the team’s “little sister.” She was wicked smart and had tracked Zach’s brother from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to Charleston, South Carolina, in under ten minutes. Spider would have probably given them a phone number and address if Alexandra hadn’t opened her mouth to ask what the heck that weird action figure was on Spider’s desk. It looked like a demonic wild boar on steroids, wearing spikes and armor. Creepy.

Alexandra rolled her eyes at the memory. After a lecture about how awesome the Guild Wars online game was, Spider had been offended enough not to offer any more help in the matter.

Annoying little sister, more like it.

So here Alexandra was, voluntarily in one of the most haunted cities in America, surrounded by freaking dead people, with no idea where to start looking for Zach’s little brother.

“Is, um, Rebecca with you?” Hannah’s question about Zach’s mother drew her back to their conversation.

Alexandra sighed. “Haven’t seen her since I boarded the plane. She’ll pop up. She always does. Hopefully she’ll point me in the right direction so I can get this over and done with.”

She’d kind of been counting on Zach’s mother to manifest and lead her the rest of the way to the mysterious Dylan Collins. The fact it hadn’t happened yet was pissing her off. She’d left herself open to communication with Rebecca, which also left her vulnerable to any ghost, spirit or whatever in search of a conduit between dimensions.

If she didn’t show soon, Alexandra was flipping her mental Open sign over to Closed.

After promising to check in with Hannah with frequent updates, Alexandra ended the call and washed her hands to give herself an excuse for visiting the ladies room. She was a little hungry and a lot tired after her evening flight.

She hadn’t mentioned it to Hannah, but she’d also been uneasy since touching ground in Charleston. The feeling had intensified the closer she’d gotten to her hotel. She’d never seen anything like the spiral gray beams whirling up toward the skyline from what she assumed was the city’s historic district. She’d never encountered so many ghosts so quickly in such a small area either. Not even when she’d lived in Germany, where ghosts were everywhere. A heavy, sick weight had sunk into her stomach, manifesting a mild headache as she’d watched the beams wave and shimmer against the setting sun. This city felt…unhealthy.

Or she could be feeling ill because she’d skipped lunch. She hoped that was the reason. Hopefully a decent meal and a good night’s sleep would right things.

This place had been highly recommended by the desk clerk at the inn, or she might have opted for junk food out of a machine and called it an early night. She rubbed her eyes and blinked them open again, only to see the man in the Derby hat standing directly behind her, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He lifted a finger and pointed at her in the mirror.

“Ya can see me, can’t ya?”

Crap.

A woman came out of the stall behind her, so Alexandra kept her mouth shut and made a quick escape. Maybe if she kept ignoring him —

“I don’t mean ya any harm.” The Derby Hat Guy followed her back to her table and took the seat opposite her just as the waitress appeared with her food. “I hear the food here is delicious. I know the brew is!” He lifted his mug and chugged back several gulps. The bloody gash at his neck shifted with every swallow. Since the mug gave off a slight orange glow, Alexandra knew it wasn’t visible to anyone else. Ghost mug. “Tell me, miss.” Reluctantly, she looked his way. “How can a pretty little thing like yer’self see me when no’un else can?”

Alexandra kept her mouth busy, pushing spoonful after spoonful of soup between her lips, avoiding eye contact as best she could. Sometimes she forgot she was in public and launched into a full-fledged conversation with her unseen visitors, but she had no plans of doing so now. Nuh uh. No way. The place wasn’t overly crowded, but there were enough people around to notice if she suddenly started talking to The Invisible Man.

But maybe this guy didn’t know he was dead. Maybe he needed her help crossing over.

Maybe —

Stop it! Don’t engage him. He’s not the reason you’re here.

As the man rambled about the dress of the men and women around them—“Woo-wee! Ain’t ever seen the likes! She’s practically wearin’ nothin’! Would ya look at that?”—Alexandra finished her salad, quietly amused by his observations. He was a chatty fellow, and if she had spoken, she doubted she could get a word in edgewise. Seeing he wasn’t going away, she began to study him as he yakked. She’d guess he was in his late thirties, maybe early forties. Lanky. Not overly handsome, but not a dog either. Kind of reminded her of that guy who’d played the Doctor on that British show Hannah had been making her watch. Oh, what was his name? David Tennant. That was it. Except this guy wasn’t the least bit British.

Where was Zachery’s mom, Rebecca? She might get on quite well with this character—being that they were both highly obnoxious and all. Perhaps she could hook them up in the afterlife and give the dead woman someone else to nag for a change.

“It must be your lucky night, hon.” A woman’s voice drew her attention.

Alexandra blinked up at her waitress as the young woman slid a mug of beer in front of her. Did the girl seriously just call her hon?

The redhead nodded over her shoulder. “The hunk at the pool tables bought you a drink.” She winked. “Enjoy.”

Oh, no. Not only were the dead people around here clamoring for her attention, so was some a-hole on the prowl. She bit back a groan and lifted her gaze to give the man a polite shake of her head, a silent thanks but no thanks and –

Hello, Mr. Delicious.

He was hands-down the most criminally sexy man she’d ever laid eyes on, and for a woman who worked with some serious man candy these days that was saying a lot. He studied her from the billiards area as he chalked up one of the cues. He was the only person over there, playing a solitary game while most people congregated at the bar. A slight smile teased his mouth as she managed to lift the mug and nod. So what if she hated beer? She’d gulp the whole thing in one go if that sex god wanted to watch. He nodded back, gestured to the pool table beside him, and—

Oh, yeah. She was tempted to saunter over there and see what happened. Beyond tempted. She’d never had a one-night stand in her life, but maybe this was as good a time as any.

“Well, I’ll be! He sure seems to have struck yer fancy.”

Oh, no. She scrunched her brows and shook her head. She had a bad feeling about this.

The ghost wooped. “Oh, but I think he has.” He glanced toward the billiards. “And I dare say he has taken quite a fancy to you, miss. Comes in here a lot that one does. Never been able to spook ‘em though.” Derby Hat Guy abruptly stood and started walking toward the other man, saying, “Let’s give ‘em a game. Have a bit of fun with the rascal.” He rubbed his hands together.

“Wait! Uh,” Alexandra jumped to her feet and realized a few seconds later she was practically on top of the pool table when Mr. Delicious said, amused, “Whoa now. I’m guessing you like a good game of pool?”

Among other things.

She bit her lip and tried to ignore the ghost bent over the other end of the table, reaching for two of the balls that had been scattered near a corner pocket. She’d made this poor, delicious man a target of the ghost’s tomfoolery. Oh dear. She needed to fix this.

“Pool?” Her eyes widened when Derby Hat Guy picked up the white ball behind Mr. Delicious and moved it clearway across the table. There was no orange glow to it, which meant the ball had actually moved. Had anyone else seen that? This ghost was an old and smart one. Not many could move objects like that. “Yeah. Yeah, I love pool. Game on.” Leaning over, she slapped the green felt and flicked her fingers a few times toward the wall, trying to convey the message to Derby Hat Guy to get lost.

Mr. Delicious held out a cue stick to her in offering, distracting her from the ghost past his shoulder. “Great. We’ll start a new game. I was getting tired of losing to myself.” He looked her up and down where she leaned against the table and seemed to like what he saw. His smoldering blue eyes burned with heat so intense, she felt her insides ignite. He wriggled the cue in his hand. “You know how to use this thing?” His smile was kicked up to full charge on the suggestive meter.

Oh, my, he was flirting, and that was a game best played by two. Accepting the cue from him, Alexandra arched a brow and slowly ran a finger along its length. “I can handle a stick pretty good.” She pursed her lips, blew at the chalk on the end, and slowly batted her lashes when she looked at him again. “Besides, what woman doesn’t love to bust some balls every now and then?”

He gave an appreciative chuckle. “Alright.” He began setting up a new game and she sighed, watching his taut backside move deliciously against his faded jeans as he bent over. Whew. Levis should pay him a royalty. Who looked that good in jeans, besides Calvin Klein models? No one, except this guy. Maybe he was a Calvin Klein model. He definitely had the face and body for it.

And maybe she should offer to buy him a drink or something—you know, to apologize for making him a target of the resident ghost.

“Can I get you a beer?”

“Nah. I’m good.” His back muscles stretched against his black t-shirt when he rested his elbows on the table, highlighting some serious muscle definition beneath.

“Something else? Whiskey?” She tilted her head at him. Me?

“No thanks.” His eyes twinkled with amusement as he straightened and moved closer. “Girls take advantage of me when I drink. I can see I’ll need to keep my wits around you.”

“Is that so?” She cast a meaningful glance over her shoulder at the beer he’d ordered for her. “Crap. You’ve obviously found me out. Whatever will I do now?” She sent him a pointed look that she hoped said I know your game. Trying to take advantage of me, eh?

He selected a stick from the cue rack and sauntered over to her, not looking the least bit remorseful.

“I was hoping if you drank enough, I’d start looking good enough for you to come talk to me. Since you didn’t even take a sip before rushing right over, I’m flattered.”

She snorted, but yeah, she was as embarrassed as heck about the way that must have looked. “Maybe I thought you were someone else.”

“Who?”

She said the first name that came to mind. “Robert Pattinson.” And then winced.

His eyebrows squeezed together. He looked almost offended. “Really?”

No, not at all, but what was she supposed to say—oh, there was a ghost coming to play with your balls? She shrugged.

“I won’t hold that against you.” He winked. “And I should probably warn you.” He leaned in close, the tantalizing scent of raw masculine energy exciting her nostrils and causing her inner siren to sit up and sing. “The guy I’ve been playing against tonight is pretty tough. He might not go easy on you.”

“You mean, the guy you were playing pool with earlier?” She glanced around, spotted only Derby Hat Guy leaning against the table, drumming his fingers impatiently, sending her a bored look. “Who is he, Casper the friendly pool player?”

He grinned. “He’s the guy who sent you the beer—the one who thought to himself, ‘I think the most beautiful woman in the world is in this room, and I’d like to talk to her.’”

Oh, mercy, that was both the best and the worst pickup line she’d ever heard. He had a sense of humor as well as being sexy. She liked that.

She tilted her head and feigned concern. “Have you seen a doctor?”

His eyes widened. “For what?”

“Multiple personality disorder. I think you have it.” She smiled to let him know she was only teasing. And she gripped the cue tighter to keep from doing something ridiculous like ripping his shirt off. “Here’s a hint, Casanova. Guys who talk about themselves in third person tend to come off as a little bit crazy.”

He leaned so close his hot breath teased her face as he tried to stifle a laugh. “Good point. And I’m a jackass. I haven’t even asked your name.”

“Alexandra.” She held out her hand. “And who will I be crushing in this game tonight?”

The warmth of his fingers against hers was stimulating. “Name’s—”

The sound of wood knocking against wood startled them both, and Alexandra sprang away. Derby Hat Guy had moved to the cue rack and was purposefully knocking the sticks against one another. He stopped when Mr. Delicious turned around to inspect the noise.

“I thought we were gonna have some fun with the rascal!” complained her newest dead friend. “Come on, already. Let’s play!”

Ghosts. They could be so annoying.

***

“You know, they claim this place is haunted.”

Dylan Collins leaned against his pool cue and watched as his enticing opponent lined up her shot perfectly—and abruptly banged the white ball against the left side when the words left his mouth.

She swore softly and sighed. “You don’t say.”

He shrugged and moved to take his first shot, regretful he no longer had a good view of her cleavage as she bent over the table. She’d already sunk a number of the balls. The woman knew her way around a billiard table. “I don’t believe in that stuff, personally. If that’s your thing, Charleston has a ton of ghost tours.”

“Hmm.” Her concentration seemed off as she frowned slightly, gazing toward the wall. Maybe she was like him and thought the whole Haunted Charleston spiel was just a gimmick to attract tourists.

Change the topic, dumbass. He didn’t want to scare her away or make her think he was a paranormal freak when he wasn’t.

He couldn’t believe his luck in luring a beauty like her over here. He circled the pool table and lined up his cue with the ball.

His favorite way to unwind from a bad day at work was to come to the Southend Brewery for a beer, a game of pool, and a game on one of the TVs above the third-floor bar, but he’d never seen a woman like this one here. Usually the women he attracted at bars were young, more than a little tipsy, and as sexually aggressive as sailors turned loose in a whorehouse.

His partner on the force liked to think of them as cop groupies, although Dylan never advertised the fact he was with the North Charleston PD before he decided to take one home. Besides, Reedus was wrong. Usually in this part of the city they were either co-eds or tourists looking for a little naughty fun before returning home to their mundane lives or boyfriends or husbands or whatever. Didn’t matter a bit to them that he wore a badge. They were more interested in what he didn’t wear.

But this one, there was something different about her.

Older than his usual pick up, definitely. He’d guess early 30s.

Lifting his gaze from the end of his cue and toward the blonde across from him, he drank in the sight of her curvy figure. The ball soared forward and clanged against two others that drifted into the corner pocket. He wouldn’t stretch his credibility by saying she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, but she was close. She had something else too that had caught his attention from across the room before he’d ever glimpsed her pretty face. The way she carried herself. Confident. Classy, even in jeans. Two traits he found sexy as hell, and then to come to learn she was smart and funny, too? Hot damn.

Normally he went for petite brunettes, but he wouldn’t mind a change of taste sampling this leggy blonde for a night or two. Especially tonight, when he needed to erase thoughts of the case that had been eating him up all day.

Was she willing to help him with that?

Let’s find out.

First, he had to sink the rest of these balls to impress her. He took his time finding the right angle—oh yeah, he could nail three in one shot from here—and made a show of leaning over, sliding the stick through his fingers, oh so slowly, and then snapping forward with just enough finesse to hit his target in the right spot. The white ball clanged against the orange No. 5, sending it into a corner pocket, then spiraled toward both the green No. 6 and purple No.4.

The white ball abruptly took a sharp detour to the left, missing his remaining targets completely.

What the-?

Alexandra’s eyes and mouth were wide open, probably a match to his own expression. She blinked and shook her head. “That was…a little weird, huh?” Red began spreading from her neck up through her face.

He scratched at the hair on his head. “Yeah, weird.”

“You sank the five though. Uh, good job. Still your turn.”

“Right.” He bent to find his next shot, narrowed his eyes and spotted three balls clumped together near the middle pocket. That might get him at least two scores. He slid the cue forward then jerked it back when the white ball began slowly rolling toward the left.

He straightened and grabbed the white ball, picked it up and felt its weight in his hand. Damn thing felt normal. He glanced at the woman standing on the other side of the table, her hand now covering her mouth and her eyes glistening with amusement.

She lowered her hand and placed it on her hip. “Are you trying to cheat?”

“What? No. Hell, no. Didn’t you see that? The ball moved—” He bit back a curse and put it where it was before.

He sat his bridge hand on the table, kept his angle smooth, and struck it this time.

Almost every ball on the table rolled out of its way as it bowled forward. It banked off the corner pocket and fell in.

What the—?

He reached a hand out over the table. Had someone turned the air conditioning on full blast? Was there a vent he couldn’t see?

He didn’t feel anything abnormal.

Instead of the impressed cheer he’d been soliciting, he was rewarded with feminine snickering. “Smooth,” Alexandra said, pushing him out of the way. “Let me show you how it’s done, hot stuff.”

She backed her ass up, spread her legs, set up her shot and sent the white ball sailing. She clinked one into the middle pocket, then three more she hadn’t even touched flew into other pockets, one after the other.

“How the hell did you do that?”

She held up her cue and blew the tip. “Guess I’m just better at this than you.”

Something weird was going on here, but hell, that was okay. She wore amusement well. It lit up her face and looked damn attractive on her. He leaned closer. “Still your turn.”

She moved around him to find her next position. He waited until she had leaned down with her cue arranged to follow. He curved over her, resting his hands on the table edge on each side of her, and breathed in the intoxicating scent of strawberries. Mmm. Nice.

Her back lifted slightly, pressing against his chest. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He nuzzled his mouth close to her ear. “Making sure you don’t cheat. Got a problem with that?”

Judging by the way she wiggled her backside against him, he didn’t think so. “You’re in my way.”

He eased up, but didn’t move away completely. He left his right hand resting on the spot above her belt.

She pulled her elbow back, slowly, and sank two more balls. He thought she did, anyway. He wasn’t really paying attention to the table anymore. His mind was distracted by the strip of bare skin his fingers had discovered between her jeans and shirt. Smooth, silky smooth. And hot, so hot to the touch.

She turned her head back to glance at his hand before lifting her gaze to his. “Well go on, then. Keep fondling me. I’m still gonna win despite your little distractions.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep.”

And then she sank the eight ball.

Game over.

He liked this woman, liked that she gave him a lil bit of hell. “Where are you staying?”

Straightening, she curled both hands around her cue and considered him. “Why?”

“Cause I’d like to know where I’ll be spending the night.”

She laughed. “Presumptuous, aren’t we?”

“Mmm-hmmm. And cocky too.”

“No kidding.”

He couldn’t resist touching the strip of skin still visible between her belt and shirt. Her breath hitched at the contact, so he knew she wasn’t as unaffected as she played. “I live just around the corner. We could be there in less than ten minutes.”

She said nothing for so long, he started to think he’d overshot this one. Handing him her cue, she arched a brow. “My hotel sounds closer.”

They made it there in eight, and if his steps slowed a little when he realized she was leading him to the Lodge Alley Inn, she either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Too weird.

His place was on the next street over.

But he kept his mouth quiet about the irony of her stay and put it to better use, nibbling her earlobe as she struggled to open the door to her room. He liked hearing her breathing quicken and turn raspy as his hands had fun, too, sliding around and beneath the hem of her t-shirt. He trailed his fingers along the silky smooth skin of her stomach as he pressed his front against her backside. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman this much.

Pushing inside, she didn’t turn on the lights, just pulled him in after her, reaching up to devour his mouth like a woman starved for kisses. Man, she was hot.

She tore away from him. “Bed is upstairs.” She toed off her shoes and hurried up the spiral staircase inside the entryway of her room. He was right behind her.

***

Dylan must have fallen asleep because the alarm clock read three o’clock when a sound awoke him from a pleasant dream hours later. Alexandra grumbled and snuggled deeper into the sheets as he maneuvered his way to the end of the bed and found his phone.

Speaking quietly, he answered, “Collins.”

“Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, but we’ve got another one,” his partner’s voice was brisk. “Same calling card as the one last month. Pretty sure we’ve officially got a serial on our hands.”

Dylan swore and glanced at the woman sleeping peacefully behind him. It had been nice while it lasted. Reedus gave him a few details and the address while he tugged on his pants.

Picking up the rest of his clothes, he ended the call and moved quietly to the stairs. He hesitated, glancing back toward the bed. A smile tugged at his lips as he walked over, knelt beside the mattress and just looked at her for a minute.