Trace's Psychic Page 6

  Dylan grunted. “Yeah, tell me about it. God I hate this psychic bullshit. Just give me a straight up murder any day. Jealous spouse. Greedy partner. Mob hit. Anything’s better than this.”

  The detectives laughed and started to push their chairs away from the desk. Storm held a hand up to halt them. “Look, maybe we’d better get this on the table right now. If I’d known you guys were so rabid about anything you can’t put in an evidence bag, I’d never have introduced you to Sophie and Aislinn last night. Not that I understand the hocus-pocus stuff, or believe in all of it, but there are things that can’t be explained, like cop hunches and the Captain’s gut feeling for public relations nightmares. Whether you guys want to believe it or not, some psychics aren’t fakes.” She frowned at Trace. “And whether The Caveman accepts it or not, Aislinn is involved in this. She not only knows a lot about this stuff, but she’s got…talents that can’t be explained away.”

  Storm paused, wishing she had a crowbar so she could pry some closed minds open, but figuring she was doing what she could. Damn! She wished like anything that she’d gone to the gym and hooked up with some of the guys there rather than agreeing to try and set Trace up. It had never crossed her mind that he’d get a hard-on for Aislinn. She’d have bet money that the chemistry would have meshed between him and Tiffany, if it meshed with anyone.

  “Aislinn can help us. But she’s…cautious and sensitive.” Storm looked at each of the homicide detectives before settling on Trace again. “If you guys keep up with the attitude, then you’re going to shut her down. Then it’ll be ten times harder solving this case. Besides that, she’s like a sister to Sophie. I don’t want to see Aislinn hurt or abused. That’s all. I just wanted to get it out on the table. If you don’t want to have to deal with the ‘psychic bullshit’, then let me be the liaison with Aislinn. I’ll give her a fair deal.”

  Miguel spoke up, shooting Storm a grin. “Bring it on. I can handle it.”

  Conner grunted and looked at Trace. “There’s plenty of work for everyone. I’m fine with leaving Aislinn to Storm.”

  Dylan shrugged. “Fine by me.”

  Trace gritted his teeth as all eyes turned to him. He knew they all wanted him to back off. He couldn’t. His cock was rock-hard. His skin felt like it was about to peel off his body. He needed to get back to his place and fuck Aislinn. He needed to hear her whimpers as he took her. He needed to feel her body writhe under him as he pounded into her hot little cunt. “You want to be the one who talks to Aislinn about this shit, fine, but I’m going to be with you.” He stood and stalked out, needing a few minutes to pull it together before they went to get Aislinn. Christ, he’d never felt so out of control.

  He left the building, heading for the Starbucks out of habit. Dylan caught up with him halfway down the block. “Trace…”

  “Fuck, just leave it alone.”

  “Look…”

  Trace stopped and turned toward Dylan, ready to…shit, he didn’t know what he was going to do, but the look on his partner’s face shut some of what he was feeling down. “I’m dealing with it, okay.”

  Dylan held his hands up in surrender. “Sure. Sure. Anything you say. You going for coffee?”

  “Yeah.” It came out sounding harsh.

  Dylan tried to lighten the mood. “You want me to walk ten paces behind you?”

  Trace exhaled loudly. “No.”

  They continued down the street in silence until they got to Starbucks and Dylan said, “Hey, I thought Commander Joe was settled in at the homeless shelter.”

  Trace followed Dylan’s gaze and saw a familiar figure pushing a shopping cart full of clothing, blankets, and dumpster treasure. “Fuck.”

  Dylan shook his head. “You want the usual?”

  “Yeah,” Trace said, already moving toward the homeless man.

  Commander Joe stopped pushing the cart as Trace drew closer. There was a momentary look of confusion and suspicion before the man’s face cleared. “Oh, it’s you. I’ve got some pretty things to show you. Picked them up this morning.”

  “What are you doing here, Joe? You’re supposed to be at Sunlight House.”

  The man’s smile faltered and his hand reached for the small American flag that was pinned to the lapel of his tattered jacket. “This is my route. Someone else will get it if I’m away too long. I already lost my place under the bridge.” He started digging around in one of the garbage bags and pulling out old pieces of jewelry. He lined them up on top of a blanket. “These would make a nice gift.”

  Trace closed his eyes briefly, already knowing that it was futile. Hell, he’d gotten Joe into three shelters in the last six months, but he never stayed. “Sunlight House is a lot safer. There’s been some violence against people living on the streets. I can call for a patrol car to give you a lift back to the shelter.”

  “No. No. I can’t hear myself think there. Walls keep closing in on me. Guy in the bed next to me was having flashbacks. It’s better out here.”

  Dylan appeared with three cups of coffee and a bag. He handed one to Trace and offered a second to Commander Joe, along with the bag. “Got a bear claw, if you’re interested.”

  The homeless man took the coffee and the bag. He waved his hand over the assortment of jewelry. “Take one.”

  Dylan shook his head. “Don’t have a girlfriend to give it to.” But when Commander Joe tried to give the coffee and pastry back to him, Dylan relented and picked up a ring with a clear green stone in its center. “You waiting on a ride back to the shelter?”

  The homeless man’s face tightened into stubborn lines. “No. I’m not going back there. Nobody can make me go back there.” He carefully placed the coffee and the bag with the pastry into his shopping basket, before gripping the handle so tightly that his knuckles showed white against the faded and cracked red plastic. “I’ve got to finish my route now,” he said and moved away from Trace and Dylan.

  Dylan pocketed the ring and looked at Trace, glad to see that his partner seemed to be back in control of himself, glad to see that Trace was handling the fact that Commander Joe was back on the street again.

  Dylan shook his head against the hopelessness of it all. Commander Joe never stayed in a shelter for very long. Hell, none of the Vietnam vets that ended up on the streets did, but Trace kept trying anyway. Maybe it was just habit, something Trace had grown up being involved in, or maybe some part of Trace hoped that if one of them could be turned around, then his uncle could be, too—but there was no way Dylan was going to touch that one. “You ready to head back?”

  Trace turned away from the sight of the homeless man pushing his basket full of possessions down the sidewalk. His thoughts shifted to Aislinn and his cock responded instantly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

  * * * * *

  “They’re still here,” Sophie said as she drove past the front entrance of Inner Magick and then around the building to the back stairs leading up to Aislinn’s apartment. “I didn’t really think they’d give up, but I was hoping.”

  Aislinn shivered at the sight of the reporters. She’d known they were here, but actually seeing them sent her heart racing with fear. She had few Elven privileges, yet most of their laws applied to her. If her mother’s people thought that their existence might be discovered, then they could order Aislinn to leave, to never again have contact with Sophie, or Moki…or Trace.

  A sharp pain shimmered through her at the prospect of losing those she loved. Even before the testing and the banishment, she’d been alone. She couldn’t bear the thought of once again having no one who cared for her.

  “They’ll go away once the murderer is found,” Aislinn said, knowing that no matter how difficult it would be to return to Patrick’s house, to touch his belongings, she would do it.

  * * * * *

  Trace couldn’t believe it. She was gone.

  He’d walked through the house twice before stopping at the alarm console for a third time. Fuck. How the hell had she gotten out of his house? Dylan and
Conner were the only two people who knew the code besides him. Neither of them would have revealed it.

  The system was armed when Trace walked in. He’d had to disarm it. His gut told him that she hadn’t slipped out while he was looking for her. The note he’d left warning her not to leave was still attached to the back of the front door.

  Trace punched in his code and reactivated the alarm before walking the perimeter of the house to check for signs that she’d gone out a window while he was looking for her. Nothing. He was never going to live this down.

  Storm and Miguel had gotten out of the car and were leaning against the doors. Trace gritted his teeth and asked, “Did Aislinn come out?”

  Miguel frowned. “No, was she supposed to?”

  Storm’s barely suppressed smile made Trace’s jaw clench even tighter. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of asking if she knew how Aislinn could have gotten out of an alarmed building. “Let’s head to Sophie’s,” he said, angling for the driver’s seat just as Storm’s cell phone rang. He heard her say, “I’m with Trace and Miguel. We’re on our way there now. How’s she holding up?… Do you think she can do it?… See you in a few.”

  * * * * *

  Sophie put down the phone. “They’re on the way. Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  Aislinn ran her fingers along the smooth edge of a dark, smoky crystal, wishing that she could pull its timeless tranquility into herself. “Yes. I’ve got to. Who’s with Storm?”

  Sophie sat down next to Aislinn. “Trace and Miguel.”

  Aislinn looked away. Dread and anticipation swirled in equal measure inside her chest. The things in herself that she valued the most, Trace would never believe existed. He despised anyone who claimed to be psychic. And yet when he was near, she craved his touch. He beguiled her. Against a background of loneliness and pain, she wanted to believe that he was the one she was destined to form a heartbond with. But how could she be sure that it wasn’t just human lust and not the compelling need that the Elven had to touch their mates?

  Sophie picked up a flat green crystal from the collection on her coffee table and said, “Are you okay with seeing Trace so soon?”

  “I’ll have to be. I need to do this for Patrick.”

  But it didn’t stop Aislinn’s heart from tightening when there was a perfunctory knock at Sophie’s door before Storm pushed in, followed by the two homicide detectives.

  Storm rushed over and pulled Aislinn to her feet, hugging her tightly. “I wish I’d been there last night when the call came in!”

  Aislinn returned the hug, feeling the anger radiating off Trace’s body as he stopped next to her. As soon as Storm let go, Trace grabbed Aislinn’s arms and pulled her around to face him. “You were supposed to stay at my house.”

  She stiffened against his restraint, against the need that built whenever he touched her. “I didn’t know when you’d be back. There are things I have to do. For Patrick.”

  Trace gritted his teeth. “You’re not going to Dean’s house without me. And you’re not staying here. As soon as we’re done, you’re going back to my place.” He pulled her close enough that their bodies touched.

  Aislinn shivered in response to the naked desire burning in his eyes, to the hard cock that burned through cloth and imprinted itself on her abdomen, at the raw possessiveness in his tone. When he moved closer and covered her lips with his, she was lost. There was no thought to resist the demand of his tongue as it thrust into her mouth and stroked over hers. She melted against him, wanting nothing more than to let him take control.

  Fire raced through Trace’s dick as Aislinn’s soft body molded itself to his. Fuck. Her submissiveness was an aphrodisiac that shot his control to hell. He should never have started this. But now that he had, he couldn’t stop thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth. Christ, he wanted to do the same thing with his cock. When he got her home… Trace groaned as erotic images of Aislinn sucking him deep into her mouth made his balls pull up tight against his body. When she whimpered it took everything he had to keep from pushing her down to her knees so that she could give him relief.

  Miguel’s voice pushed through the haze of lust in Trace’s mind. “Maybe we should leave them alone for a few minutes, let them get it out of their systems before we head out to Dean’s place.”

  Aislinn stiffened and pulled back from the kiss. Satisfaction surged through Trace at the sight of her flushed face and swollen lips, at her dazed expression. “Let’s get this over with,” he growled.

  * * * * *

  Miguel and Trace both cursed as they neared Patrick’s house. The reporters hadn’t given up their vigil.

  “Stay out of sight,” Trace told Aislinn. “You, too, Sophie, unless you want to be part of this media circus.”

  A uniformed officer got out of a nearby patrol car and walked over to where the crime scene tape was stretched across the driveway entrance. Trace slowed to a stop and rolled down his window. The cop nodded in acknowledgement, then did a double- take. “They move you to homicide, Storm?”

  “Just on this one. Everything pretty quiet here?”

  The cop snorted. “I wish. It’s like watching a pack of hyenas. Anything moves and they’re on it.” He pointed down the street to where an unmarked police car was parked along the curb. “A couple of reporters from The Daily are tailing Trace’s partner, probably trying to figure out which neighbors to hound for more hype. You want my opinion, we oughtta pull them in for obstructing justice.”

  Trace grunted. “Yeah, only problem is that it’d just add to their storylines. They’d love that. Either way, we’re fucked.”

  The cop shook his head. “Yeah, we’re fucked.” He put his hand on the crime scene tape. “You going in?”

  “Yeah,” Trace said. “We’ve got a couple of civilians with us. Make sure the cameras stay back.”

  “No problem.”

  The cop pulled the tape away and Trace shot down the driveway, angling for a position that offered the most protection. His guts were churning, something that hadn’t happened to him since he was a rookie. The lack of control pissed him off.

  Storm turned to Aislinn. “Did you park in the driveway last night?”

  Aislinn nodded.

  Storm asked, “Can you take it from here? Tell us what you were sensing?”

  “Christ!” Trace flung his door open and got out, leaving the disbelieving epithet hanging in the air behind him.

  Aislinn’s eyes watered, but she steeled herself against his rejection. She had survived worse. She had survived years of being an outcast among her mother’s people.

  Miguel muttered “shit” and cast a quick look toward Storm before following Trace out of the car. Storm shook her head. “Are you going to be able to do this with Trace here?”

  Aislinn took a deep breath. “I have to.”

  Sophie gave her a hug. Storm squeezed Aislinn’s hand. “Okay. Did you sense anything?”

  Aislinn closed her eyes and forced herself to relive those moments outside of Patrick’s house. Without conscious thought, her hand lifted and she ran a finger along the delicate wings on one of the butterfly earrings. She shuddered as the feelings of foreboding washed over her again. “I felt uneasy. Like I wanted to turn around and leave. I was afraid that Patrick was going to hold a séance.”

  “I thought he didn’t do that when you were around!” Sophie interrupted, her voice angry.

  “Sophie,” Storm warned, motioning her cousin to stay quiet.

  “He doesn’t.” Aislinn took a steadying breath and corrected herself. “He didn’t. He knew that I wouldn’t participate in trying to call spirits back from the dead.”

  “But you were worried that he was going to do it last night?” Storm asked softly.

  Aislinn took a minute before answering. “No. I don’t know why the thought came to me. Maybe he was already dead by then. Maybe that’s why I felt so uneasy.”

  Storm nodded. “Anything else?”

  “No.”


  “Okay, so you got out of the car and went to the front door. Anything there?”

  “Just the same. Uneasiness.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to doing it all over again?” Storm asked.

  Aislinn opened her eyes and nodded before slipping out of the car. Her gaze flew to Trace. His face was rigid, his lips set in a tight line. When he made no move to touch her, Aislinn’s heart lurched in her chest. She took a deep breath, turning away from him and walking the short distance to Patrick’s front door. “The door was open, just a little bit,” she said. “I pushed it wider but the hallway was dark.”

  Miguel spoke up for the first time. “Was the porch light on when you got here?”

  “No. There were no lights on in the house.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Trace muttered. “You went in anyway.”

  Two pairs of cop eyes glared at him to shut up. Aislinn whispered, “I gave my word that I’d be here.”

  “So you pushed the door open?” Storm asked.

  Aislinn nodded and reached down to touch the doorknob. There was a residue of anticipation coating the smooth crystal, but she’d expected that. The crystal knob was one she’d selected for Patrick. She turned the knob and pushed the door open, bracing herself against the sight of the bloodstains on the wall. Next to her Sophie let out a small gasp before turning away.

  Miguel said, “Maybe you’d better wait in the car.”

  “You don’t have to come in, Sophie. I’ll be okay,” Aislinn said.

  Sophie nodded and moved so that she didn’t have to look at the spot where Patrick had probably been murdered. “Are you going to be okay?” Miguel asked Sophie. She waved him away, then bent over the railing and lost her breakfast. He hesitated before following the others inside.

  Aislinn came to a halt at the doorway leading to Patrick’s magic room. She could feel the force of Trace’s disapproval pressing against her, seeming to demand that she not enter the room in front of her.