A Wild Fright in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 7) (11 page)

His heart thumped steadily in my ear. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m better now.”

“Hold on a second.” He reached down and unbuttoned my coat, and then pulled me against him, settling me between his legs. My chest flattened against his, body heat doubling. “There, now we’re both better.”

I chuckled and went up on my toes to kiss the underside of his jaw, feeling a slight scratch of stubble on my lips.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

But then I changed my mind, because I’d rather speak my fears and worries while here with Doc than toss and turn and fester about them alone in my bed until the wee hours. “Whoever wrote that note wants the book on Kyrkozz enough to murder for it, don’t they?” I whispered.

I could feel his warm breath on the top of my head. “That’s my guess.”

Back in August, I’d taken a book about a demon named Kyrkozz from the Carhart house. It had belonged to a crazy, demon-loving bitch named Lila who’d tied me to a chair and had planned to use the book to raise a demon so it could borrow my womb to procreate. Thankfully, Wanda Carhart had shown up before the demon had arrived and she’d helped me escape. After a night of hair-raising moments, Wanda and I had made it out alive, and I’d procured the book as a parting gift. My reason for taking it was simple—if Lila had succeeded somehow and Kyrkozz came looking for me to finish what she’d started, I might need what was written on the pages to save those I loved from something much worse than a crazy, demon-loving bitch.

“What should I do?” I asked.

“You mean what should
we
do?” Doc’s hand rubbed up and down my back. “You’re not alone in this.”

“You sure you don’t want to take this opportunity to run the other way?” I joked, but there was a serious question hidden in between the words.

“Are you kidding? And miss out on all of this fun? No way, Killer. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

When he said stuff like that, I was his slave to do with as he pleased—whips, chains, thumbscrews, the rack, even Harvey’s favorite strawberry love goop. I didn’t care. Although I drew the line at cooking.

“I think we should see what Cooper comes back with before doing anything on our own.”

I nodded, conceding to the police on this one. “I remember him telling me that Lila was part of a group out of Yankton who had some tie to demonology. You think they are the “WE” in the messages?”

“Maybe. But how did that note get into your purse at the police station?”

“They must have members here in Deadwood.” I burrowed my nose into his soft shirt, breathing in the woodsy scent of his cologne. As usual, the smell of his skin made my pulse start to skip and whistle.

“Have you seen anyone else with that goat-melting-into-a-pig tattoo Lila had?” he asked.

“No. But I’ll start keeping an eye out now.”

“I’ll do the same at the Rec Center. Tattoos are very visible there between the exercise room and pool.”

I looped my arms around his neck. “Of course you’ll only look for these tattoos on the men.”

He chuckled. “Of course.” His hands moved up my ribs, the heels of his palms brushing along the sides of my bra. “I don’t want to leave you tonight.”

That made two of us. “Why do I hear a ‘but’ in there?”

“But I have to head down to Hill City in the morning for work, so I need some sleep.”

This wouldn’t be a problem if we moved in with Doc. He wouldn’t have to leave me until morning light. But how could I begin to broach that subject when I couldn’t get up the nerve yet to tell the guy I was in love with him.

“You could stay in my bed, wake up early, and then go home to shower and shave before hitting the road.”

“Tempting.” He leaned down and kissed me, taking his time about it, like he was in no rush to finish any time this evening. When he finally pulled back, I hung from his neck like a weak-kneed groupie.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” My lips pulsed still, pumped up and ready for more.

“I took an online course.”

I giggled and fanned myself, trying to lasso my heart and drag it back into its stall. “You must have seduced a lot of women in your time with those lips.”

I knew a certain redhead who couldn’t stop obsessing about him. The longer I was with Doc, the more I understood why. Had he kissed Tiffany that way?

“Not really.” He traced my jawline. “You inspire me, Boots.”

“Yeah, well,”
I love you,
“better a great kiss than some mediocre poetry.”

“What? You don’t want any sonnets extolling your beauty?”

“I’d rather have more kisses.”

“Me, too. That’s why I can’t stay in your bed tonight. There’s no way I’ll get much sleep and we both know that. It’s been too long since I’ve had you all to myself.”

“What good is sleep? I’m saving it for when I’m dead.” I let out a short, hard laugh. “Which could be sooner rather than later at the rate I’m going.”

“That’s what scares me, Killer.” His tone was suddenly serious.

This time when he kissed me, there was more urgency. His touch was rougher, more demanding. His hands spanned my hips and then gripped me tight, his body hard against mine, aggressive and demanding.

I let him mold me against him, moaning when his hands slipped under my shirt and moved northward. “Doc,” I gasped up at the porch ceiling. “Take me to bed.”

“We can’t.” His thumbs stroked over the front of my bra. “You said yourself that your kids have big ears.”

“I can be quiet.” At least I could try.

He groaned at the press of my hand at his zipper. “I can’t.”

“But I want you to touch me.” I whispered in his ear where and how and then nibbled my way down to his collarbone.

He pulled back like he’d been burned and grasped my shoulders, pushing me back a step. His ragged breathing matched mine. “You’re making it damned near impossible to say no.”

“So don’t.” If this relationship was going to continue into something more serious and long-term, we’d need to find a way to play around under the same roof as the kids. Other parents somehow managed; we could, too.

“If I didn’t have a box of paperwork to go through tomorrow, I’d take you up on your offer.” He raked his fingers through his hair, looking out toward the street. “Are you going to be okay here on your own tonight?”

Not really, and that had nothing to do with wanting to have sex with him. The night stretched out before me long and exhausting, promising plenty of worry fueled nightmares, but I couldn’t bring myself to push for him to stay. He had clients relying on his clear head. He didn’t need his scaredy-cat girlfriend screwing up his livelihood.

“I’ll be fine.” Because that sounded weak I added, “More than fine. You’re right, you should go home and get some sleep.”

“Violet, look at me.” When I did, he searched my face from top to bottom, returning to my eyes at the end. “I could sleep on the couch.”

“Yes, please.” It came out in a gush of relief. Having him in the house with us would keep me from hiding under my covers when the walls and floors creaked and settled for the night. “But only if you think you can get enough rest sleeping on the couch.”

“I’ll make do.” He toyed with one of my loose curls. “You know, Boots, all you have to do is ask and I’ll come running every time.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m some wussy girl.”

His chuckle was low and husky. “I’ve watched you take on some burly monsters almost twice your size. You’re no wuss.”

“So why do I feel scared about being alone most nights?”

“You may be an executioner, but you’re still human.”

“Am I? Do we know that for sure?”

“Well,” I could hear the grin in his tone, “I’ve checked out pretty much every inch of you, and from what I can tell, you’re human all right.”

That made me laugh, easing some of the anxiety that had my guts tight about the notes, the nightmares, and the monsters still hiding out there in the shadows.

Then I sobered, licking my lips. Even though he’d already agreed, I looked into his eyes and asked, “Doc, will you stay the night with me and my family and watch over us so that I can sleep with both eyes closed for once?”

He caught my hand and laced his fingers through mine. “I’m your huckleberry.” With a tug he led me to the door, holding it open for me to go through first. “But it’ll cost you a breakfast.”

“You mean you want me to actually get up early and cook food that’s edible?”

He stepped inside after me, locking the door behind us. “I was thinking more along the lines of you spending the night with me sometime soon and letting me have
you
for breakfast.” He leaned back against the door, stroking his chin as he ogled me up and down. “Although I do have this fantasy.”

I stepped closer. “Oh, yeah?” I whispered. “Do tell.”

His voice lowered to match mine. “I wake up in the morning and find you down in my kitchen wearing nothing but your purple boots and …”

A zing of lust gave me goosebumps. I went up on my toes and kissed him, silencing him except for the groan that came from his throat when my tongue teased his to come out and play.

When I stepped back, I raised my brows. “You were saying something about my purple boots?”

“Damn.” He sighed, his brown eyes dark with want. “It’s going to be a long night.”

* * *

Monday, November 12th

The Old Prospector Hotel had a long-standing reputation for housing the ghosts of the prostitutes who’d once lived and worked there. This morning I was there to see the man who claimed he could hear these ghosts. I needed to set up a date with him for Paranormal Realty to film a piece inside of the building later this week. I rode the elevator up to the third floor, where I knew Cornelius Curion would be waiting for me and the protein shake I’d agreed to bring him as an entrance fee into his suite.

Being in the elevator reminded me of the last time I’d paid a visit to the hotel, which led me to wondering how things were going for Cooper down at the station with my note, which led me to smiling about the note that Doc had left under my cell phone:
You owe me breakfast, Boots.

He’d even made coffee before he’d slipped out of Aunt Zoe’s place long before I’d started stirring.

I’d give him his so-called breakfast and then some for helping to keep the boogeyman away last night.

We’d stayed up too late, lying on the couch together, falling asleep to one of Layne’s favorite movies,
Jaws
. I’d slept hard, waking up with a sore hip. If my nightmares had come I didn’t remember them. Maybe the shark had eaten the monsters and demons before they could get to me.

Aunt Zoe’s couch was made for one. Poor Doc had been pinned between me and the back of it sans the cushions all night. I’d be happy to massage away any stiffness resulting from his sleepover. I chuckled at my own pun and then grimaced. Harvey and his dirty mind were really starting to wear off on me.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I stepped out into the hallway and glanced around. Not much had changed on the decorating front. The hall was lined with foot-worn carpet and wallpaper that hadn’t looked new for a generation, maybe two. I closed my eyes to see if I could sense any ghosts. After a few seconds, I sniffed like Doc often did, smelling the stale scents of years gone by but nothing out of the ordinary.

I snorted at my own silliness. Who was I kidding? I was still a dud when it came to ghosts. Prudence was a special case. Aunt Zoe had confirmed that this morning when I’d joined her in the kitchen after I’d stood under a steaming hot shower to work out my stiffness.

“You doing okay?” she’d asked as I poured the coffee Doc had made.

“Sure, why?”

“Doc spent the night.”

I glanced at her while adding milk to my cup. “We didn’t do anything.” She had to have noticed when she came in from her workshop that we were both fully clothed after falling asleep.

She waved me off. “That’s not the point. Doc usually only spends the night when you need him to be here for some reason. So, why did you need him last night?”

I shrugged and carried my coffee to the table where she sat stirring hers. “Sometimes the fear of what happened to Prudence and her family grows too big for me to handle on my own in here.” I tapped my temple. “Last night I wanted Doc to hold my hand and make me forget for a while about what might be waiting for me out there.”

“You’re not Prudence.”

“Of course not.” I gave her a toothy smile. “I’m a lot nicer than she is.”

Aunt Zoe grinned at me over her coffee cup. “Smartass. I mean that you can’t keep comparing yourself to her. She’s a special case.”

“Special how?” Was this about Prudence’s ability to turn people into walking and talking puppets?

“She’s not like most executioners. She’s the first I’ve ever heard of who has post-mortem abilities.”

“Maybe that’s one of the abilities that comes with her bloodline.”

“Maybe, but I want you to stop trying to measure up to her because you can’t.”

“Because I’m too new at this executioner gig?”

“Because you’re not the same as her.”

“We’re both killers.”

“That doesn’t make you identical twins. Trust me on this. It’s important to your success. Your skillset is different. The only thing you two share is your occupation.”

“And its hazards.”

“Unfortunately that too.”

The kids had joined us then, bickering as usual.

Before I’d left to take them to school, Aunt Zoe had kissed my forehead and reiterated, “Trust me, you’re just as strong, only different.”

And so I did trust her, and would continue to. I had to, because Aunt Zoe was guiding me through the ins and outs of what I was and what I needed to do.

For now, however, what I needed to do was get the date set for filming in The Old Prospector Hotel this week so that I kept my boss happy. Why couldn’t this executioner gig come with good pay and health insurance?

Cornelius’s suite was at the other end of the hall. I made it to his room without running into anyone else—alive or dead. My cell phone buzzed in the pocket of my corduroy skirt as I lifted my hand to knock.