Storm Crazy Bonus Edition (Storm Crazy and Cry Me a River) by Livia Quinn

Author:Livia Quinn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Livia Quinn

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Tempe

Jack looked mad, but I couldn’t tell if he was mad because he thought we’d once again trespassed on his crime scene and were “sniffing” around—if he only knew—or because he walked in on Dylan and me alone…again… especially after last night.

Zeus’ stars! A thought struck me out of the blue. What if he started thinking the reason I didn’t want to go to the ball was because I had lingering feelings for Dylan. Misunderstandings and assumptions have a way of putting relationships in Splitsville.

“Jack, you startled me.” I wanted to turn him away from any of those ideas.

“Tempe had nothing to do with this, Lang. I got the key from the manager. Looks like he ignored your orders not to have the place cleaned. I asked her to meet me here. I’m looking into a related UMC incident, which was in progress before this happened. If you like, I can fill out an official request but usually, the inspectors work closely with local law enforcement.”

Jack had a first class bullshit meter and paid no attention whatsoever to Dylan’s words, except where his laser focus had remained since he entered. “What’s a nuck..nukl—” he scratched his head trying to remember what he’d heard.

“Nucklavee,” Dylan said glancing at me with a let-me-handle-this look. “A Nucklavee is a small group—” Well, yeah, as in rare faerie, I thought. “—of professional thieves and con-artists. If this man has been involved with Tempe’s mother then he’s up to no good.” I stared at Dylan, wondering at his ability to create alternate truths on the fly.

Jack’s expression didn’t change a wit. It was as if he’d made up his mind when he saw us not to believe anything we said. He studied both of us in that still, predatory way he had. I was getting a bad feeling. He had something on his mind.

“Dylan is just trying to help us connect the dots,” I said.

His sardonic smile should have been a warning, but I still wasn’t prepared. “Oh, right.” Jack said, looking straight at Dylan. “And is your dead father on one of those dots?”

Dylan’s hand tightened on my shoulder. I frowned, put off by Jack’s insensitive words. “What about him? What has my father’s death got to do with this?”

I was sick of him giving, then withdrawing support, blindsiding me just when I thought I could trust him. Was it some kind of interrogation tactic used by law enforcement to trick the truth out of suspects? Dylan shifted uncomfortably. At the time, I mistook it for worry on my behalf.

Those piercing silver eyes turned toward me. “His death has nothing to do with this.”

I grabbed my hair and growled in frustration. “Then—”

His narrowed eyes met mine. “Because he’s not dead.”

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