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“Hey! I resent that. I’ve been working on it. Besides, he’s a murderer. What does it matter how much I offend him?” He just grunts in response, so I send my elbow out and nudge him in the gut. “You also might want to look for the lover. The shattered window didn’t happen with the wife and hubby.” I pause for a moment, taking in Alan’s almost distraught projections, seemingly chaotic and lost in nature. “How’s Sarah?”
“Good.”
“Bullshit. Your entire aura shows me differently. You should know better than to try and lie to me.” Alan tries his best to be a closed book, but you can’t hide from Wicked.
I know all the secrets.
Okay, not all, but I can surely figure them out if I wanted to.
“She wants me to stop going out in the field, take a desk job for another department. After what happened-” He hesitates, taking a second to compose himself. “-last time. She’s just scared, that’s all.”
“Are you considering it?” I don’t let my voice betray my worry. Alan Richards is the only person in the department who has been on my side since day one. Let’s just say that bringing on a psychic isn’t exactly the most popular of choices. But he stood by me, let me prove myself, and shut down any and all naysayers that came along. If he goes, I might very well be out of a job. I don’t work well with anyone else.
Aside from that, he’s the closest thing I’ve had to a father since my dad died when I was young. Though, I don’t think anyone could get us to admit it, even under threat of torture or death. That’s just not us.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Right. Well, let me know when she decides to give you your balls back.” I pat him on the shoulder and let out a whistle, the sound of quick scurrying feet answering my call as Gizmo and Snitch run ahead of me to guide my path as I walk away. “Oh, and next time don’t waste my time with such an easy case! A fucking beat cop could have figured this one out. I’m too good for this shit!”
Angry vibrations flare up around me as said beat cops surrounding the crime scene hear my diss and throw curses my way, making me giggle.
Hey, I’m just stating facts! Can you really hate the truth?
Claws dig into my legs as Snitch races up to rest on my shoulders, content to let Gizmo take the lead as we set off down the street. Together, we enjoy the sunshine radiating down on us, even as the back of my skull continues to pound with my ever-growing headache.
Fuck, I really hate dying.
Ichuckle under my breath at the enraged shouts from one of the offices behind me before taking a sip of my coffee. The sound of chittering squeaks follows the commotion before two small balls of fur ram into my legs and hide under my desk behind my feet.
“What did you do to him this time?” I coo at Gizmo and Snitch, who have gone surprisingly quiet, before trying to pretend they aren’t there.
“Wicked!” I won’t lie and say the smooth Spanish accented voice does nothing to my insides–hell, I am a hot-blooded woman–but when I think aboutwhothe voice belongs to, it’s like a bucket of ice cold water is poured over my head.
Nicolás De León isthebiggest asshole in the department. Not that many of us can pronounce his name, so most of us just call him Nic. My entire knowledge of Spanish extends tohola, some curse words, andpsíquica. And that last one is only because Nic says it so damn much while spouting insults my way.
Not a day goes by where he isn’t rude to me, or even downright hostile. I think it has something to do with the fact that I can read his every emotion and occasional thought or memory. I don’t think he likes that I’m all up in his shit.
But whatever. It’s not like I’m a bag of sunshine myself. I’m well aware that I’m an asshole and I own that shit.
“Douchebag!” I smile widely with a sing-song tone to the nickname, mental vibrations humming through my mind as he stomps his way over to my desk.
“How many times do I have to tell you to keep thoseverminaway from me?!” Every word that leaves his mouth pulses down the back of my neck like a warm touch from a lover and I try, but fail epically, to shake away the lust-filled thoughts flooding my brain.
Yet, I can’t help but want to fuck the attitude right out of him.
What woman wouldn’t love to have a romp in the hay with the manlier, more ruggedly sexy version of Enrique Iglesias? Like seriously, he could even turn a lesbian on with his accent, thick silky-black head of hair, and matching five o’clock shadow. You know, the kind that the guy shaves every day and yet, it just grows back to that sexy length immediately and then stops.
Okay, so I’m not afraid to admit that I pestered the fuck out of the other females in the department to find out exactly what he looks like. I tuned into their mental broadcasts like I was a junkie jonesing for another fix and their thoughts could lead me to a king pin’s stash house. I was hoping he was ugly, that my infatuation with his smexy accent was all there was.
Nope. Apparently, the guy looks like a God among mortals. Of-fucking-course he does.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I claim nonchalantly as I lean back in my seat and lace my hands behind my head. “I don’t have any vermin.”
Two sets of small clawed hands press onto my pant legs and I know it’s my little trash pandas showing appreciation for me sticking up for them. Raccoons are smart like that, even smarter than cats and dogs.
“This office is no place for raccoons, Wicked. And you may have the chief somehow wrapped around your prissy little fingers, but not me. Keep them out of my office or so help me God, Wicked, I will make it my job to get you thrown out of here!” His furious tone raises and lowers with anger before he’s almost full on growling at me. I can feel the promise radiating off of him from only a few feet away.
“Nice speech, dickwad, but these areseeing-eyeraccoons. And they’re the smartest and most adorable little boogers you’ll ever set your eyes on. Show some respect!” I coo down at Gizmo and Snitch as they climb on my lap, purring sweetly and snuggling into my chest, making me smile.
