Riley Thorn and the Corpse in the Closet by Lucy Score
4
7:03 p.m., Wednesday, August 12
Riley let herself in the back door of the mansion with her haul of groceries and packages. She made a right into the kitchen, Burt on her heels with a new chew bone clutched delicately in his huge mouth.
She found Gabe staring mournfully at a carton of ice cream that looked doll-sized in his hand.
“What’s wrong? Ice cream headache?” she asked, hefting the bags onto the counter.
He glanced up at her with pathetic brown eyes that held the pain of a thousand broken hearts. “I am saying farewell to a good friend.” With a whimper, he tossed the ice cream in the trash can.
Burt felt like the trash can put the ice cream in his territory and shoved his face in the can.
Riley wrestled the dog out of the trash. “No more farting,” she warned him. “Why are you giving up ice cream?”
“Elanora wishes for me to resume my practice,” Gabe said, still staring into the trash.
She shooed the dog out of the room and returned to her friend/sometimes spiritual adviser. “My grandmother does things her way. Her way doesn’t have to be your way.”
He shook his head slowly. “She is right. How can I guide you in your journey if I have strayed from my own?”
She laid a hand on his massive bicep. “Gabe, buddy. Ice cream isn’t straying from your journey. It’s a pit stop. Everyone loves a pit stop.”
“Not Elanora. She is right. I must recommit myself to being pure in mind and body.”
Riley narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means no more ice cream. And no other distractions.”
Uh-oh.Her nose twitched and a vision of her sister, Wander, floated into her head. She suddenly had a very good idea of what “other distractions” had concerned her grandmother.
“Desires of the flesh stunt your spiritual growth.”
Elanora Basil was a mean old lady.
“I’ll talk to her,” she promised. “She spends too much time in the Guild and forgets that there’s a whole world out there just waiting to be experienced.”
“Elanora said experiences are for those with small minds.”
“Yeah? Well, she also says that summer vacations are for stupid children worried about burning out their brains with year-round education. So I wouldn’t take her too seriously. We’ll figure out why she’s in town and when we can look forward to her leaving.”
“She is disappointed in the spiritual guidance I have offered you. That is why she is here. To take over your training.”
Riley shuddered. Gabe had been nothing but a muscle-y, sweet, guiding light since showing up unannounced at the mansion and presenting himself as her official teacher of psychic things. His gentle guidance had helped her tiptoe into the realm of a semi-functioning psychic.
She reached into one of the shopping totes and handed him a carton of Moose Tracks ice cream. “I got this for you to enjoy because you’ve been a good friend and a great teacher. Don’t let one crabby medium ruin that.”
His grateful smile was blinding. “I will always be your friend, Riley Thorn.”
“Good. Now eat your ice cream.”
“I will help you carry your bags upstairs, and then I will return to enjoy my special treat.”
“That sounds fair.”
He left her outside her door on the third floor and practically sprinted down the stairs to get back to his beloved ice cream.
Riley let herself in and stopped in her tracks.
“What in the—”
Nick Santiago was cooking.
And it smelled good. He looked up from the stove and flashed her a dimpled smirk. “Good timing,” he said, pulling the pan off the tiny, two-burner stove top.
“What is that?” she asked, floating toward the smell of garlic and sizzling onions.
“Chicken fajitas,” he said and tilted the cast iron skillet so she could see. His forearm and bicep flexed indecently. She liked when they did that. “It’s my specialty.”
“You have a specialty?” she asked. “I mean, outside the bedroom.”
He shot her one of his patented underwear-combusting looks. She dumped the bags on the floor and took the beer he offered her.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked.
His broad shoulders rose and fell carelessly. “Just felt like making my girl dinner. Consider it a date night.”
On their first “date night,” Nick had accidentally seen her naked and then bribed his way into her apartment with pizza just so he could stake out her neighbor’s place.
“You’re acting weird,” she decided.
His eyebrows shot up. “Me? Weird?”
“You moved us in together without consulting me. Refurnished everything. Yelled at me about a homicide investigation. Now, you’re cooking me dinner. What’s going on behind those dimples, Santiago?”
“Nothing’s going on. Boyfriends cook dinner for their girlfriends all the time. They also yell at them about homicides.”
Riley remained skeptical. “You don’t have to go full-speed ahead, you know. You’re new to this relationship thing. I’m not expecting you to whip out a diamond ring and a 401(k) beneficiary form.”
“You have a problem with us living together?” he demanded.
She scanned the space. The new couch. The big flat screen. The dining table that looked as if it could handle the weight of an entire Thanksgiving feast. “No. I’m just worried that you’re jumping into this faster than you should.”
Very deliberately, he took the beer from her, took a sip, and set it down next to the stove. Then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her cutoffs and pulled her into him.
“I like fast,” he whispered darkly in her ear.
Yes, yes, he did.And he’d been turning her into a speed freak, too. Shoving her out of her comfort zone into free fall. Except every time she was certain she’d plummet to her death, he’d been there to catch her.
“I’m starting to like fast too,” she said, deciding dinner and state of the union relationship talks could wait.
She sank her teeth into his ear lobe. He hissed out a breath, and his fingers tightened their grip on her hips.
“What do you say we see how this table holds up to combined body weight?” she suggested.
He growled low in his chest and turned the stove burner off. “It’s got a max load of five hundred. I checked,” he said, picking her up and carrying her toward the table.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on tight.
He slid her ass onto the table and stood between her thighs, staring down into her eyes.
“I like you, Thorn.”
She heard the catch in his voice and melted like cheese under a broiler. “I like you too, Nick.”
He shook his head. “Uh-uh. I like you like you.”
She felt dizzy and warm and really, really turned on.
“I like you like you too,” she whispered.
“Promise?” His lips were a breath away from hers.
“Cross my heart,” she said, dragging his mouth down to hers.
Nick Santiago could kiss. He could make a professional career out of it. Women would pay him to kiss them breathless and make them feel like the center of his universe. Not that she was going to bring up the idea right now. Not since it was her breath he was stealing and she was the center of the universe.
She didn’t know how she’d gotten this lucky. Why he’d hurled his bachelor lifestyle out the window for a chance with her. But rather than overthink it, she’d just go with it.
She was so busy enjoying his mouth on hers that she didn’t hear the door when it flew open. “Riley, got another bin for you!”
Fred Bogdanovich, in a Pink Floyd t-shirt, very short yoga shorts, and his summer toupee—it was blond—burst into her apartment with the energy of a much younger man.
When she tried to pull away, Nick clamped a hand to the back of her head and continued to kiss the hell out of her while waving his other at the wayward senior citizen.
“Oops. Didn’t know you two were busy canoodling,” Fred said, dropping the plastic tub next to the door.
“We need a new apartment,” she told Nick’s mouth. “One where we don’t know our neighbors.”
“Guess I’ll just leave you to it.” Fred paused and sniffed the air. “Hey! Fajitas. My favorite.”
Nick’s delicious assault on her mouth didn’t let up as Fred be-bopped into the kitchen and helped himself to a plate before leaving.
She liked him. More than liked him.
Nick Santiago had no idea, but she was in love with him. She’d get around to telling him. When she was sure the information wouldn’t send him into anaphylactic shock.
His hands were at her waist now, skimming under the hem of her shirt. When his fingers found her skin, every hormone receptor in her body lit up like a Christmas tree.
“I’m so into you, Thorn,” he said, continuing to ravish her mouth with his expert-level talent.
“Yeah. Me like you too.”
His mouth curved against hers in smug satisfaction.
“Me like you too?”
“Shut up and keep kissing all the grammar out of my head,” she said, fisting her hands in his t-shirt.
It lasted for all of thirty seconds, until her nose twitched and a chill descended on the room. Nick didn’t notice it. His libido was in overdrive, and in general, the man pumped off more heat than a five-alarm fire. But Riley knew what it meant.
There was an imperious knock at the door.
“Go the hell away,” he snarled.
Before his hands could continue their pilgrimage to her breasts, the knock came again.
Riley tensed under his touch. “Yeah. We have to get that.”
“Nicholas, get your hands off my granddaughter’s breasts and open this door,” Elanora called from the hallway.
With extreme reluctance, he took a step back. “Shit. Fuck. Dammit.”
He abandoned her on the table and flung the door open. “Can I help you, Elanora?”
She was still dressed in head-to-toe black, but she’d swapped the bird feathers in her hair for a somber black scarf.
“I doubt that very much,” Elanora said. “I’m here to extend an invitation to you both.”
“Oh, goodie,” Nick said. “You couldn’t do that by text?”
Riley finally regained the use of her legs and slid off the table. People didn’t talk to her grandmother that way. She stepped between them just in case Elanora had mastered any interesting magical combat powers.
“You two will join the rest of us for a family meal tomorrow. Bring Gabriel,” her grandmother announced.
Burt wandered in through the open door, giving Elanora a wide berth. He sat down on the other side of the couch and peered over it with suspicion. His tongue peeked out of his gigantic mouth.
“You may also bring your very large dog.”
“Gee, thanks, Grandma. But Nick and I have a lot of work—” Riley began.
“You will both be there. It’s long past time that this family remembers its roots. There will be no more lollygagging.”
“I never liked lollipops,” Nick cut in.
Elanora shot him a withering look that would have had a lesser man quaking at the knees.
“Not a fan of the sense of humor, are you?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw.
“A sense of humor is a waste of energy. This world is not a humorous place. People live. People die. People commit to their responsibilities and hone their gifts. There is no room for humor or fun.” She spat out the word as if it was a different kind of f-word.
“Ever been skydiving?” he asked.
“I am far too busy dealing with the living and the dead to hurl myself from any mode of transportation.”
“Water skiing? Or is your kind not allowed to get wet?”
Riley backed into Nick and hoped her grandmother hadn’t learned how to hurl lightning bolts from her eyeballs.
“You will both be in attendance. You will dress appropriately. And you will not put your tongues in each other’s mouths in the presence of your family,” she announced, pointing a bejeweled finger at them.
Riley’s arms came up like a shield just in case. “We’ll be there,” she promised.
“Seven o’clock,” Elanora said stiffly. “Come, dog. You will walk me out.”
Burt, who had given no indication of understanding much of the English language besides “what’s that smell?” and “ice cream,” loped over to the terrifying woman and led the way out.
Riley collapsed back against Nick’s broad chest.
“Well, that was terrifying. Can she see through walls? How did she know I was feeling you up?”
“You’re Nick Santiago. Of course you were feeling me up.”
They stared at the open door for another minute. Elanora Basil had an uncanny ability to kill moods.
“We need a new apartment. One with a moat,” he decided.
“Let’s see if Fred left us any fajitas,” she suggested.
They headed into the kitchen to examine the remains of their dinner.
“By the way,” she said, “I decided I’m going to help Kellen on the case.”
Nick blew out a breath. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.”
“Looks as if my powers are rubbing off on you,” Riley said cheerily.
“I wish something else of yours was rubbing off on me.”
