Moonlight Scandals by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Dev’s gaze flew to where Rosie stood. In the darkness with only the silvery moonlight streaming in through the windows, he couldn’t make out her expression.

But he heard her.

“I think that came from upstairs,” she whispered. “Is it possible someone is upstairs?”

“No.” Pushing away from the door, he walked back into the foyer and looked up the stairs. He’d been upstairs before Rosie arrived. “Unless someone climbed the balcony.”

Rosie moved silently, joining him in the foyer. “We need to investigate it.”

He was already climbing the stairs. “Stay down here.”

“What?” she demanded in a low voice.

Stopping halfway, he looked over his shoulder. “Just in case it is a person hell-bent on murdering one of us, can you stay down here?”

“It’s not a serial killer,” she whispered as she crept up the steps behind him. “You just said no one could be up here.”

“I also said that someone could’ve gotten in through the balcony.”

“By jumping from the patio down below like a kangaroo or a superhero?” The excitement was clear in her voice. “You know there’s not a person up here.”

Dev couldn’t be sure. It was far more likely that it was an ax murderer than a spirit, so he really didn’t want Rosie charging up the stairs, into God knew what.

“I’m not staying downstairs,” she said. “That’s not why I came here, to cower whenever there is a random noise.”

Irritated, Dev realized he had only two options. Tie her up to something to keep her downstairs, and that sounded a hell of a lot more fun than it should’ve, or let her come up.

Sighing, he turned around and started up the stairs again. “At least stay behind me.”

“Yes, sir.”

His jaw clenched as he reached the top of the steps and flipped the hallway lights on. The hall split in two directions. Both were empty, but the noise seemed to come from above the dining room, which would be either the master bedroom or the guest room next to it. Both could be accessed from the balcony. He started in that direction with Rosie practically on top of his back. He opened the guest bedroom, but there were no lights to be turned on in that room. Crossing the room to the balcony doors, he found them locked. When he turned, he saw Rosie heading for the master.

“Damn it,” he growled, stalking out of the room. He caught up to her in the hallway. “Didn’t I say stay behind me?”

“I am,” she insisted.

“No. No, you’re not.” Stepping around her, he approached the double doors that led to the master. He pushed the door open and scanned the large room as his eyes adjusted to the moonlit room. “Hmm.” Spying something on the floor, he went into the room and bent over, picking it up. “I think I found the source of the noise.”

Rosie walked over to him, the green light on the recording still shining. “A worker’s helmet?”

“Yes.” He turned to the workbench that sat in the corner. “It must’ve fallen off and rolled across the floor.”

She stood in the center of the room, staring at him as pale moonlight glanced off the curve of her cheek. “Does a rolling helmet sound like footsteps to you?”

Well, not exactly. “What we heard in a dark, quiet house that you think might be haunted sounded like footsteps. That doesn’t mean they were footsteps.”

“And there is no way what we heard was a helmet rolling across the floor,” she argued. “And by the way, how did it fall off the bench and roll across the floor? Invisible wind?”

He started to smile, but stopped himself. “It probably was just placed on the edge of the bench and us walking around disturbed it. And, by the way, all wind is invisible.”

“That’s not what I meant. Whatever. I’m going to get the EMF meter.”

“EMF what—”

Rosie was already gone from the room.

Shaking his head, he placed the helmet back on the workbench and decided to check the other rooms, which he did. Nothing was out of place and there was no ghost hiding in a closet. He had no idea what they’d heard, whether it was the helmet or a spirit, and he doubted anything Rosie was doing was going to prove it either way.

Rosie was currently walking from room to room with some kind of electronic magnetic reader while asking the same damn questions she’d asked downstairs.

As he quietly trailed behind her, he could practically picture Gabe’s and Lucian’s faces if they saw him right now. Lucian had been amused when he’d gotten the keys from him earlier, but he imagined they would either be shocked or they would’ve passed out from laughter.

The EMF detector didn’t pick up on any weird readings according to Rosie, but that hadn’t deterred her. It felt like an eternity she spent upstairs, moving from asking vague and open-ended questions to more detailed ones. Was the spirit around during the Civil War? Was their death recent? As they walked back into what was to become Lucian and Julia’s master bedroom and the rough-in bathroom, she waited several seconds, sometimes even minutes before asking another question.

Dev was learning that this ghost-hunting stuff took a hell of a lot of patience.

There was a good chance that if he was with anyone else, he’d be bored out of his fucking mind. Then again, he wouldn’t be doing this with anyone else, but he found the whole thing with Rosie quite . . . entertaining. Rosie was very serious about this. She remained alert as minutes turned into hours. If there was so much as a floorboard creaking somewhere in the house, she would become very still and quiet and listen for about five minutes, and if he made a noise during that time, like breathed too loudly, she’d hush him.

He didn’t find the hushing as annoying as he did the first time she’d done it.

But even as entertaining as it was to just stand back and watch Rosie, by the time they made it back downstairs, he almost shouted with relief when she turned off the recorder. “Are we done?”

She laughed as she picked up the backpack and placed it on the covered counter in the kitchen. “Not quite.”

For some reason, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved to hear that or disappointed. “You’ve literally asked every question known to man. What more can you do?”

“Lots. I need to take pictures.”

“Pictures?”

She nodded as she pulled out a small camera. “Sometimes you can catch a spirit or an orb—”

“Or a particle of dust?” he suggested.

Rosie sent him a droll look. “Sometimes you can catch spirits on film. We use a camera that produces high-resolution images,” she explained. “Often, once you load them up, you’ll find things in the pictures you couldn’t see with your own eyes.”

“Is it necessary?”

“Yes.” She looked over at him. “You can always leave and come back when I’m done. No one is forcing you to be here.”

That was true.

But he didn’t leave.

Instead, he trailed behind her once more, going from room to room while she took pictures.

“I hear Nikki is moving back into her apartment soon,” she said as they walked through the living room.

“That’s what I hear.”

“Guess that makes you happy.”

He lifted a shoulder. “She grew up in that house. I’m used to seeing her around.”

She snapped a picture and the flash was nearly blinding. “I imagine it won’t be long before Gabe and Nikki are living together. With Lucian moving out, you’re going to be . . .” She paused and then sung, “All by yooourseeelf. You’re gonna be, all by yooourseeelf.”

He slowly turned to her. “Please don’t do that again.”

She giggle-snorted as she turned, snapping another picture at, literally, a corner. “That’s a hell of a house to be living in with no one else there.”

“It is.” Dev wasn’t sure how much he planned on being there once everyone was gone.

Rosie moved toward the stairs and then stopped, turning to him. “I want to ask you a question that’s just a nosy question that would be normal asking anyone else.”

“Then why wouldn’t it be normal asking me?”

She lowered the camera. “Because you’ll probably think I’m asking for some nefarious reasons.”

“Possibly,” he admitted. “Guess you won’t know if you don’t ask.”

Rosie laughed at that and started up the steps once more. “I guess not.”

He waited for her to continue as he followed her. “So, you’re not going to ask?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

Dev frowned. “Ask, Rosie.”

She reached the top of the steps, stopping to take a picture. “What happened with you and your fiancée?”

That was not a question he was expecting, and suspicion blossomed. “What do you mean?”

Taking a picture of the other side of the hallway, she then started walking again. “I get why you two aren’t together. I mean, what her brother tried to do . . .” She trailed off. “I guess if you really cared about someone, you’d work through that, even as crazy as that is.”

“I guess you would,” he murmured.

Facing him, she inclined her head to the side. A moment passed. “I forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“That you said you didn’t love her—well, you didn’t say that exactly, but that’s what it sounded like.” Rosie turned and walked into the closet bedroom. “Why would you be engaged to marry someone you didn’t love?”

Dev wasn’t sure how he could answer her question. He had to be careful. If she was working with Ross, he could use this information to either embarrass his family or hold it over his head to get the information Ross thought Dev could provide.

Rosie took another picture. “You don’t have to answer my question.”

“I know.” He waited out in the hallway as she moved around the room, taking a picture of the wall. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then tried again. “The Harringtons were friends of Lawrence’s and we went to the same schools and university. Lawrence always had an eye on their business and I think . . . he liked the idea of our two families being joined.”

She angled her body toward him. “You basically had a financially arranged marriage?”

He coughed out a dry laugh. “I guess you could look at it that way. He wanted one of us to marry one of the Harringtons, but . . .”

“But what?”

He stepped out of the way as she came out of the room. “But it didn’t work out.”

“Well, I guess it’s a blessing in the long run.” She moved toward the other door. “You won’t be stuck with someone you don’t love. Rather be alone than that.”

Dev didn’t have a response for that. He never loved someone other than family. “You’ve heard she’s missing, right?” he asked to see what her response would be. “Sabrina?”

“That’s what I’ve heard.” Rosie walked into the master. “That’s kind of insane. Makes you wonder if she had anything to do with what Parker tried.”

His brows knitted as he stared at her back. Sabrina was behind what Parker had tried to do. Either Nikki hadn’t told Rosie that or she was playing him.

“Hopefully someone finds her,” she continued, snapping a picture. “For Nikki’s sake at least, because I know it freaks her out even if she hasn’t really said anything. It would freak me out.”

Dev watched her take several pictures in the master. “You loved your husband?”

“With every breath I take.” She came out of the room. “I’m done up here.”

He nodded as they started back downstairs. “You said with every breath you take. In present tense.”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding confused. “Just because he’s no longer here, doesn’t mean I’ll stop loving him. A part of me always will.”

Dev started to ask her what happened to him, but stopped himself. That piece of knowledge didn’t tell him anything about her being a risk and it was . . . it was too personal. He didn’t need to know.

Returning to the bag in the kitchen, she placed the camera on the counter and pulled out something that reminded him of an old AM/FM radio. “Before you ask, we’re not done yet. I need to use the spirit box.”

“A spirit box?”

A worrisome smile appeared as she nodded. “Oh you’re going to hate this.”

Rosie was so right.

From the moment she turned on the spirit box and it started rapidly flipping through radio channels, scanning radio frequencies at an alarming rate, Devlin looked like he wanted to pick it up and throw it through a window.

Or throw himself out the window.

She had to struggle not to laugh through the whole thing. There weren’t any voices coming through the frequencies, so she did Devlin a favor and didn’t mess with for it long.

The moment she turned the thing off, Dev rubbed at the center of his brow. “That was the most obnoxious thing I’ve ever heard. I’m convinced that could be used as an effective torture device.”

Rosie giggled as she turned the kitchen lights back on. It was pretty bad. “All I need to do is set up some cameras and then we’ll be done.”

“Cameras?”

“Just two small ones. One upstairs in the master bedroom, where the helmet walked across the floor.” She grinned when his eyes narrowed. “And then probably one down here . . .” She twisted around as she pulled a camera out of her bag. “I think in here is good. Gets you a decent view.”

Devlin offered to help, but she waved him off. It would take longer explaining how to set it up than it would for her just to do it. By the time she came back downstairs, Devlin was leaning against the island, thumbing through his phone. It was late, close to two in the morning, and the man looked as pristine and crisp as he did when she showed up.

She, on the other hand, felt like she was starting to sweat sugar.

Walking back to her bag, she glanced over at him and couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing afterward. Was he going straight home to bed or did he have someone, somewhere, waiting for him? After last night, she imagined he had a legion of women he could call up, no matter the time, and be ready for him.

As long as he kept his mouth shut.

She bit down on her lip as she placed the recorder and the EMF meter back in the bag, along with the spirit box. Devlin hadn’t kept his mouth shut tonight and he’d been . . . nice to talk to. Even when he was being annoying with the questions while she was doing the EVP reading, she was having . . . fun.

With Devlin de Vincent.

Fun with him wasn’t something she exactly thought was possible. Well, fun outside of making out with him. That had certainly been fun.

What came afterward had not been.

Yawning, she zipped up the bag. It was time to get her butt home. “Do you know if someone will be here tomorrow?”

He watched her from where he stood just inside the kitchen. “There can be.”

“We just need someone to come in at some point and get the cameras out. I left the boxes by them,” she explained. “Someone can leave them out on the porch.”

“I can bring them to you.”

There was an annoying little wiggle in her chest. “That won’t be necessary.”

He arched a brow. “Why not?”

“Just won’t.”

Devlin’s gaze turned knowing. “I’ll make sure they’re on the porch tomorrow afternoon.”

“Perfect. So what will happen next is, we’re going to review the tapes. See if we find anything. If we do . . .”

“If you do, then contact me.”

She leaned forward, crossing her arms. “I don’t have your number and you probably don’t want to give it to me.”

“I think I can trust you with my number.”

“You never know. I could post your number online.”

“Or write it in a bathroom stall. Call for a good time?”

“More like call if you want to be annoyed but yeah,” she replied.

Devlin laughed softly. “Got your cell phone on you? I’ll give you my number.”

“Yep.” She pulled it out of the front pocket of the bag and after Dev gave her his number, she pulled up her Uber app. “Well, that’s all I’m going to do tonight. Thank you for doing this and not . . .”

Both his brows lifted. “And not what?”

“And not making . . . me want to throw myself down a flight of steps.” She grinned as she pulled her bag off the counter. “So, thank you for that.”

Devlin stepped forward and without saying a word, he took her bag from her. They were quiet as they walked outside. As he locked up, she looked to see if there was an Uber nearby. Luckily, one was less than five minutes away.

“Well, I’m going to call an Uber,” she said when he turned to her. “Thanks—”

“I can take you home.”

Surprised, she wasn’t sure what to say at first. “I’ll just call—”

Devlin pinned her with a look. “Get in the truck, Rosie.”

It was kind of stupid to turn down the offer. Right? She glanced down at her phone and then made up her mind. “Can you say please?”

Coming to stand at the passenger side, he opened the door. “Can you please get in the damn truck?”

Rosie flashed a smile. “Since you asked so nicely and said please, yes, I shall take you up on your offer.”

“Honored,” he murmured as she climbed in. Devlin leaned in and placed the bag next to her feet.

Relaxing, she leaned back and closed her eyes as he opened up the gate. Tonight hadn’t been bad at all. She’d gotten several hours of recording, and hopefully, the recorder had caught the noise they heard. Not for one second did she think that was the helmet, so maybe the recordings would pick up a voice or something.

Dev returned to back the truck out, but he had to stop again to close the gate. Once he was back in, she opened her eyes.

He was looking at her in that intense way of his. “Are you cold?”

“A little.”

Turning on the heat, he then tossed his arm over the seat and started down the street. Her gaze roamed over the interior. This truck was not new, but it had been kept well. Nice and tidy.

Curiosity filled her. “Okay. I have to ask. Why this truck?”

“Why not?”

She looked over at him. “It’s a pretty old truck.”

“So?” His gaze was focused on the road.

“So? Look, I’m not talking smack about it. My car is pretty old, but you’re worth what? A gajillion dollars? And you drive an old, outdated truck?”

“I’m not worth a gajillion dollars,” he replied, and she rolled her eyes as she wiggled into the comfy seat. “I like the truck.” He glanced over at her. “Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

“No,” she laughed. “Why would you think there was?”

“You’re asking about it?” he pointed out. “That’s why.”

“I’m just surprised. Figured you’d be in a Porsche or, like, a Ferrari or something.”

He refocused on the road. “I have a Porsche.”

“Of course,” she demurred.

“I don’t have a Ferrari.”

“Gasp. What does the club think of that?”

“Club?”

“I assume rich people belong to some kind of private, secretive rich-people’s club,” she explained. “I imagine this rich-people’s club has rules. Such as what kind of car you must drive.”

“You are . . .”

“What?”

“Odd.”

Rosie let out a tired laugh. “So, no rich-people’s club?”

There was a heartbeat of silence. “There are clubs.”

“Knew it!”

He pressed his lips together. “I do not belong to them.”

“Oh. Well. That’s boring.” She sighed dramatically. “I was hoping you could tell me about their rules and tell me my theory is correct.”

“What theory?”

“That the Illuminati is real.”

The laugh that came from him was deep, but short. Too short. “Odd,” he repeated. “You are odd.”

“You know,” she said, letting her head rest against the seat as she watched him. “You’re allowed to laugh and smile.”

His gaze shot to hers. “I know.”

“Do you?”

At the stoplight, he stared at her for a few moments and then turned back to the road.

Oh no.

Apparently, she’d gone too far, because he didn’t speak for several minutes.

But then he did. “Sabrina hated this truck. I think she rode in it once.”

Okay. She was not expecting that statement. “Sabrina sounds like a bitch.”

He snorted as he turned onto the highway. “I’m curious about something myself.”

“Ask. I’m an open book.”

“You are not an open book,” he replied, dropping one hand to his lap. “How did you meet Ross?”

“At a secret club for conspirators and scheming liars.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She grinned as she closed her eyes. “We met about two years ago. He was doing this piece on ghost tours in the Quarter.”

“Two years ago?”

“Yep. I haven’t even known him all that long.” She covered a yawn. “We were friends. I mean, never really personal or anything, but we’ve shared drinks and always chatted when we saw each other. Not recently,” she added before he latched on to that. “When he showed interest in Nikki, I honestly thought it was legit.”

When he didn’t respond, she opened her eyes. He was focused on the road. It took a moment to see that they were close to Canal Street. She glanced back at him. “You don’t even seem tired.”

“I’m not much of a sleeper,” he responded. “So I’m usually not even in bed by this time.”

“Wow.” She blinked. “I could sleep for twelve hours if I didn’t have stuff going on.”

“That must be nice.”

“Why aren’t you much of a sleeper?”

“Haven’t been.” The truck slowed as traffic picked up. There were always people out, especially on the weekend. “Not since I was young.”

Rosie mulled that over and she thought she’d figured out what that meant. “Not since you had the accident, the one where you had a near-death experience?”

“Not since then.”

That was the last thing Devlin said. The rest of the short trip to her apartment was in silence, and she wasn’t sure if it was because something was said or if he didn’t have anything else to say.

He pulled up to the curb and started to reach for the keys. “I can walk you up.”

“No need,” she replied, unbuckling her seat belt and reaching for the bag. “Thanks for the ride, Devlin.”

She started to reach for the door, but then looked back at him. Their gazes collided and held. A warm, unwanted feeling curled in her lower stomach. “We . . . we got along tonight.”

“We did.” Those thick lashes of his lowered. “Which probably means we should end this now before that changes.”

She looked away then, but her eyes went to the stupidest place imaginable. His mouth. There was no forgetting the way his lips felt against hers. The warmth in her stomach spread and there was a little reckless, utterly dumb part of her that wanted to invite him in.

But common sense won out. “Good night, Devlin.”

Devlin drew in a deep breath, and Rosie saw how tightly he was holding on to the steering wheel. His knuckles were nearly bleached white.

“Good night, Rosie.”