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“I feel like this is probably not second date material,” she says, smoothing her hands over her arms in a hug. “But I need some help, and you’re the only person I could think of calling.”
Before I can stop them, my fingers reach for her skin, following the path her hands laid out for me. Esmeralda shivers before relaxing into my touch. The shift in her emotions wafts that delicious Mediterranean afternoon scent throughout the room; it mixes beautifully with the perfume of lavender and jasmine coming from the dried flowers over the fireplace, mimicking the unique scent of the one place on Earth where I vowed to never return.
“You can call me anytime you want,” I purr. Taking her chin between my fingers, I force her gaze to mine. “I’ll take whatever excuse I can get to see you. You’ve been playing coy since our last date.”
The memory of what we did on the dance floor seems to affect her as much as it does me, because the acidic smell of olive oil gets stronger.
Before things can degenerate, I step back. My entire body groans its disappointment, but I’m here to coax truths out of her, not pleasure, however sweet it may be. “Tell me what the mission is for tonight.”
She takes a deep breath, pressing her fingers to her under-eyes, before saying, “I need to get into my grandmother’s bedroom.”
That’s not what I was expecting. At all.
“Does she keep it locked?”
A pause. A tick in her jaw. Finally, a sigh. “She’s dead.”
She hands me a piece of the puzzle. The evening at the cemetery. The freshly dug grave. “I’m sorry.”
She nods, but doesn’t answer otherwise. “I may have… uhm… overreacted a little, when I walked in there earlier.”
Her scent bitters, matching the hurt lacing her voice. The death of her grandmother affects her deeply. “Got it. And what is so important in that bedroom that we can’t avoid going in?” The we is a complete slip, but it doesn’t taste as foreign as it should on my lips. “I seem to recall you mentioning something about your financial future.”
She chews on her bottom lip. Her next words are a mumble. “I have lawyer fees to pay. Grandma had some jewelry.”
Esmeralda’s strapped for money. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’d desire riches, but I file that information away anyhow; she might not be looking for a cushy life, but crushing debt is enough to drive a person to madness. Maybe enough to get them to agree to a suicidal bargain.
I swipe my arm out theatrically. “Lead the way, then.”
She leads me upstairs to the furthest door on the right and points to it.
“Would you like me to go in and search for you, or would you like to come?”
She wrinkles her lips, seeming to ponder my question for a moment. “I should come in.”
“Do you want to?”
Another pause. “I think I do, yeah.”
“Very well.” I twist the multicolored glass knob and the door creaks open. Beyond it, the bedroom in question looks unassuming. Except Esmeralda is shaking, her scent nothing but bitter almonds and smoke.
I wrap my arms around her, crushing her to my chest. “You’re ok.”
“I’m not,” she croaks.
“All right, maybe you’re not. But you will be. And as long as you aren’t, I’ve got you.”
Her arms snake around my back, fingernails clawing at my skin over the fabric of my silk shirt. I wish there were no layers between us.
“Tell me what hurts the most.”
“Her scent,” she admits. “It’s everywhere.”
I twist her head and crouch so her nose can bury in my neck. She takes a deep breath in. “Better?” I ask once she’s taken a few exhales.
She nods against my skin. I pull her away gently. “I’m going to be here. If it gets overwhelming at any point, hug me again.”
I let her go, but lace my fingers with hers. “Where do we need to look?”
