Witch's Net Read online

She returned to the living area and stopped as she watched him remove a gun from the holster he'd draped over one of the barstools along with his jacket and check the safety before sliding it into the back of his waistband. “I don't want your daughter waking up and finding it,” he explained as he turned toward the sofa.

  “Oh, that's thoughtful,” Malaika mumbled, feeling nervous and tongue-tied at the moment. Had Craig ever made her feel that way just by being near, in a T-shirt which showed he was more muscular than previously thought? She shook her head. She knew one thing, Craig wouldn't have thought to keep a gun away from their daughter. He'd probably have tossed it in a nightstand drawer without a second thought. It wasn't that he didn't care for Deja's safety—he loved the little girl with all his heart—he'd just never bothered to take the time to think what repercussions his actions would cause.

  “This blanket is a little raggedy,” she apologized as she lay the pillow by the arm of the sofa and sat the blanket on the other end.

  “It's fine,” he said with a chuckle. “I've slept in far worse conditions, I assure you. Thank you, Malaika.”

  “Oh, it's no bother.” Her insides turned fuzzy as she caught the twinkle in his eyes. “I'll just get the lights for you.”

  She hurriedly deposited the glass he'd drank from into the kitchen sink and walked back into the living area to turn off the light. The night light in the hallway gave off enough illumination in case he, or Deja, needed the bathroom.

  “There you go. I'll see you in about three hours.”

  “It's a date,” he said as he laid his long body down on the sofa.

  He was a kind man, Malaika thought to herself as she forced one foot in front of the other, leaving him to rest. For some reason, she found herself wanting to watch him while he slept.

  Why was she feeling this? Craig hadn't been gone that long. Because Craig hurt you, she reminded herself, waving away the guilt she felt. Yes, he'd been killed because of it, but that didn't change the fact.

  “Why couldn't you keep your dick in your pants?” she whispered as she checked in on her sleeping daughter. She started to walk toward her own bedroom, then changed her mind, opting to curl up alongside her daughter in the small twin bed.

  “Why do I still love you?” she whispered again as a tear escaped her eye. He might have been in a trance but there were flashes when he'd remembered her… and Deja. The fact he'd still followed that woman… that he'd been aroused by those filthy images…

  Why the hell do I still give a damn at all? She didn't need that kind of pain. He was supposed to have been her man, her rock when she needed one. He was supposed to have helped her raise their child, not leave them to fend for themselves. No, she shouldn't care, not for a man like him. She should care for a man like… Jonah Porter?

  He was attractive, smart… held down a good job. He saved people for crying out loud. Yes, there was a man, a real man. A…

  Ugh, she sounded like her mother, except for the fact her mother would take one look at Jonah Porter and declare him white trash too. Then she'd have to go through that whole drama again.

  “If I ever find me a new man he'll be blacker than midnight and loaded with money,” she muttered, knowing in her heart she'd never love again. It hurt too damn much when it all went wrong. She wasn't going through it again, not even for that irresistibly charming man who was going to give her the biggest orgasm of her life.

  She gasped as the vision flashed through her mind.

  TWO

  Something poked him in the arm. Choosing to ignore it and stay in the hazy little half-sleep state he was in, Jonah rolled to his side and continued with his dream which was becoming more of a fantasy as he slowly started to come awake. He fought against it with all he had. He was not letting go of this dream.

  Apparently she'd given him one of her own pillows. The scent of her, cocoa butter mixed with a musky vanilla, wafted from it, teasing him while he slept. No wonder he'd been dreaming of making love to her in her bed.

  Sure, there were psycho-mutant-killers on the loose and some woman with the power to lead horny men to their deaths prowling along the Inner Harbor but all that faded into the back of his mind as his dream-self licked Malaika from ankle to collarbone, spending a little extra time in every valley he found in-between. She suckled on his ear lobe as her soft fingers trailed down his back, gliding over his hip as she reached below to grab his painfully hard… Wait. How could she do that and poke him in the eye at the same time?

  Jonah jerked his head and woke to see a pair of green eyes looming right in front of his face. He let out a sharp little cry and recoiled in surprise.

  Deja jerked back, momentarily scared, but just as quickly erupted into a fit of giggles. “You squealed like a girl!”

  He looked at the little girl in pink unicorn pajamas and chuckled. “Yeah, well, do me a favor and don't tell anyone that,” he said while covertly looking down to make sure only his dream-self had gotten hard. Now, that would have been embarrassing. “By the way, kid, that was my eyeball you were sticking your little fingers in. Where's your mom?”

  “Sleeping. Why were you sleeping on our couch? Did you and mommy have a slumber party?”

  Oh, I wish, kid. Damn, I wish.

  “No, we're all going somewhere in about…” he glanced at his watch, “twenty minutes so she let me nap on the couch. That way I wouldn't have to drive back here so early in the morning.”

  “Oh,” she said, loosening the death-clutch she'd had on her teddy bear. “I want some fruity tooties.”

  Jonah just blinked at her, wondering what the hell a fruity tootie was and what she expected him to do about it. Then she wrapped one of her little hands around his index finger and pulled him up. “They're in the cabinet up there!” she said, pointing toward the cabinet over the stove as she guided him toward the kitchen and then left him to climb atop one of the barstools.

  He opened the cabinet and took down a box of Fruitie-Tooties, a knock-off of Fruity Pebbles cereal, and preceded to pour her a bowl.

  “Why do you have a gun in your pants?” she asked curiously.

  “Because I'm a detective and sometimes I need it to stop bad guys.”

  “Can I touch it?”

  “Absolutely not,” he answered in a firm voice, grinning as he saw her stick her tongue out at him from the corner of his eye. “Here you go, cutie,” he said as he turned and placed the bowl in front of her on the counter.

  “Arentcha gonna eat some?”

  “Naw, I'm not much of a cold cereal kind of guy.”

  “Oh, that's right. You're like a cop. You guys only eat donuts.”

  Jonah laughed out loud, growing more amused as she looked at him in complete confusion, having no idea she'd just insulted him and the entire police force. “Contrary to popular belief, I'm not much of a donut lover either.”

  “What do you eat then?”

  “Well, my breakfast is usually just a cup of coffee,” he answered, grinning as she scrunched up her nose at the idea. The grin faded as he glanced around the small kitchen area to discover the lack of a coffee maker. A quick perusal of the cabinets showed he wouldn't even be able to get a cup of instant.

  “You think you oughtta go wake up your mom?” he asked as he glanced at the clock, noting the time.

  “I'm eating.” Deja responded around a mouthful of multi-colored cereal.

  Great. He drummed his fingers along the bar, contemplating his next move. Malaika had been in pajamas when she'd opened the door for him, a set of long cotton lounge pants and a T-shirt, so he doubted she'd changed into anything more revealing before going to bed but still he felt uneasy about waking her. He could just imagine how warm and inviting she'd look lying in bed—no matter what she had on—and that wasn't an image he needed ingrained in his mind while working a case he needed her for.

  No way was he going near her bed.

  On the off chance that she was directly involved with the murders he knew better than to entertain the idea of
them getting up close and personal. No matter how good she looked or how innocent she seemed. She had a psychic gift. The only other people he personally knew of with psychic gifts were vampires. She might walk in daylight and pray without being struck dead but that didn't necessarily make her innocent. She could be working with someone. Or she could be some other kind of paranormal villain.

  That thought in mind, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed his brother's number. If anyone knew how he was supposed to handle his little psychic it would be Jake Porter, if only the jerk would answer his damn phone. He gritted his teeth as he listened to Jake's call tone, AC/DC's “Back In Black”, and was then routed to voice mail.

  “Call me, you little prick, before I hunt you down and kick your ass,” he growled, irritation getting the best of him.

  Deja let out a gasp followed by a loud, “Aww… you said a bad word!”

  Grimacing, Jonah disconnected the call and turned toward the girl. “Sorry, hon. I probably shouldn't have said that in front of you.”

  “Who were you talkin' to?”

  “My pain in the a—, my pain in the butt brother. Or his voice mail, anyway.”

  “Are you mad at him?” she asked, tapping her empty spoon against her full lips.

  “Kind of. He hasn't returned my calls and I haven't seen him in a while. I guess I'm more worried than mad.”

  “My daddy's been gone from home a long time too.”

  “I heard,” Jonah said softly, sitting on the stool next to the little caramel-colored girl. Her green eyes held a sadness so deep it fisted around his heart. “How long?”

  She lightly nibbled on her lip, her eyes turned upward as she thought, eventually giving up and shrugging her thin shoulders. “I dunno. I still see him but only when I'm sleeping. He's always gone when I wake up.”

  “Deja, baby, get dressed.”

  Jonah looked past the little girl to see her mother in the hallway, leaning with her hip against the wall. Just as he'd suspected, she looked soft and inviting in the morning, all dewy eyed and scrumptious… except for the frown marring her otherwise pleasant face.

  “We'll be ready in a minute,” she said tersely before spinning on her heel and stalking off.

  “Are you sure none of them looked familiar?” Jonah asked as they finished their third trek down the harbor, inspecting each fisherman they'd come across.

  “I'm sure,” Malaika snapped, her lips thinning into a straight line as she did her best to avoid his gaze.

  What the hell was up with that? Jonah wondered for the umpteenth time since they'd set out early that cool morning. He'd brushed off her initial aloofness in the apartment, figuring she just wasn't a morning person, but then the woman had sat rigid in her seat the entire drive to the harbor, looking anywhere but at him. Conversation had consisted of her replying Yes or No to his questions, barely offering any more words than that. Maybe she was nervous, or upset since they couldn't seem to locate the fisherman she'd seen in her vision. Or she could be feeling under the weather. She'd turned a little green the moment they'd gotten within sight of the water. Still, he couldn't help feeling as if she were upset with him directly though he had no idea what he'd done.

  “Look, I know it's frustrating not being able to find this guy. We can try again tomorrow morning.”

  “And if we don't find him then?” she asked, ignoring Deja as the little girl grabbed the hem of her jacket and tugged on it, complaining of tired feet.

  “We'll keep looking,” Jonah said, scooping Deja into his arms, positioning the little girl so she could rest her head on his shoulder. He frowned at the dark look he received from Malaika and continued. “I can take you downtown to work with a sketch artist if you want. That way you don't have to come down here with me, but I need to speak with this man you saw.”

  “And if he doesn't exist?”

  “What do you mean?” Jonah's tone came out sharper than he'd intended but he didn't feel bad about it. He didn't appreciate being led on a wild goose chase while his partner lay jacked up in a hospital and his brother was MIA. “You said you have visions, see the future. You said you saw this man.”

  “Just like I saw animals attack your partner but there were no animals,” she said, frowning as she looked at where his arm held her daughter. “Sometimes what I see is symbolic, not actual.”

  “Trust me, that vision was pretty damn close. If you saw someone warning the man not to go to the woman I'd bet a year's salary that it happened.” Unless you were lying to me, he added silently, wondering if she was capable of the action. He didn't know her from Adam, couldn't even find anything on her in the records. She'd never owned property, hadn't went to college, hadn't so much as gotten a speeding ticket.

  “What really happened in that building?”

  Jonah gazed down at the little girl in his arms as horrific visions of Ronnie's attack went through his mind. “That's not a story to tell in front of a small child.”

  “There's a playground across the street.”

  Jonah looked toward the direction she indicated and nodded, shifting Deja more securely on his arm as they stepped away from the harbor, closer to the street.

  “You don't have to carry her, I can—”

  “It's fine,” he said as he glanced both ways down the street, making sure it was safe to cross. “I like kids, and this little angel is no problem at all.”

  Malaika didn't say anything as they crossed the street but Jonah didn't miss the scrutinizing look in her eyes as he set Deja down on the sidewalk and gave her a little tickle before letting her run off to the slides, warning her not to leave their line of sight.

  “I'm gonna grab a coffee,” he said, noticing the little stand nearby which mostly catered to tourists. “Want anything?”

  “No,” Malaika responded, again with a one-word answer, and walked over to the bench facing the small playground area Deja was taking advantage of.

  Shaking his head, Jonah made his way to the just-opening stand, ordered a coffee and soon found himself sitting next to Malaika on the bench, helping her keep a watchful eye on her daughter.

  They'd spent a good amount of time combing over the harbor area where the fishermen started their mornings but it was still fairly early. The area was just starting to come alive, with small stores and cafes beginning to open as early-rising tourists started to trickle onto the street. There were enough that they didn't feel as though they were sitting in the middle of nowhere but not so many that Jonah had to worry about others listening in on their conversation.

  Blowing on his too-hot-to-drink-for-the-moment coffee, Jonah cast a sideways glance at the woman beside him. She watched her daughter like a hawk but the rigid posturing of her body had nothing to do with protecting the child. The set of her luscious mouth and hard look in her eyes all but screamed determination, with a hint of anger mixed in. What was going on inside that pretty little head of hers?

  “You seem upset, Ms. Jordan. Have I done or said something wrong?” he asked, deciding to be straight-forward and professional. The last thing he needed her to know was that he was actually concerned whether or not she was upset with him on a personal level. In case she wasn't all innocent, he didn't want her to know she could possibly affect his judgment and as much as he wanted to deny the possibility that she could do just that, Jonah couldn't shake the remnants of last night's dream from his mind.

  Color flooded her face, turning the light brown color ruddy. “No,” she said after careful thought and shook her head. “It's just… I've just got a lot going on in my head right now.”

  Jonah nodded, understanding. “It must be hard seeing such awful things.”

  “It is,” she responded but something in her tone indicated what was running through her mind wasn't entirely related to the murders. “I shouldn't complain though. You get to see the aftermath in living color. That has to be worse.”

  “I don't know about that. I don't witness them die, helpless to do anything to stop it.” His hand tightened
around the coffee cup. “I wish I did have some precognition talent. Maybe then I could save them all, catch their killers before it no longer matters to them.”

  “It still matters,” she said firmly. “You might not be able to see the victims once they're gone but they know what you're doing. Your job makes a difference, not only to the families of those lost or the ones you save, but to all who were cheated out of living. They appreciate what you do.”

  Jonah cast a glance at the woman beside him, considering the passion he'd picked up in her tone. “Do you see the victims after they're gone?”

  Malaika paled, her eyes closing as she lightly shook her head and Jonah knew she'd revealed more than she'd intended.

  “I'll be damned. You see spirits.”

  “Sometimes,” she admitted, letting out a sigh as she returned her gaze to Deja, watching the child work her way across a set of monkey bars. “I haven't seen the spirits of the victims in these murders but I've seen enough spirits to know that you're a hero for those whose murderers you find.”

  “And for those whose killers I don't find?”

  “You're only human. The fact you put your life on the line every day trying to bring justice to people you never even knew is more than enough.”

  Jonah smiled, touched by her sincerity. “Thanks. It truly is a thankless job sometimes. The longer it takes to find a murderer, the more bodies that pile up… It messes with your head, feeds your insecurities. I wish I'd protected Ronnie better.”

  “Your partner?”

  “Yes. I was in the same building but they still got to her.”

  “You tried to protect her, so did I. Your partner is very stubborn.”

  Jonah laughed. “You have no idea how so, but after this…” He quickly sobered, remembering the fear she'd shown. “Hell, I think the damage done to her was far more than physical. I wouldn't be surprised if she turns in her badge after this.”

  “What did happen? Why did I see beasts eating her?”

  “Because that's exactly what they would have done,” he said, shivering as he watched Deja run up the steps to the slide. If he hadn't had those silver-coated bullets in his gun… He didn't even want to think about the carnage he would have found if he'd not made it to Ronnie in time. “It can't happen again, Malaika. We have to find out why you're having the visions and what they mean. I have to stop whoever is doing this before anyone else loses a life.”