Page 10 of A Match Made in Coven (Paranormal Romance #2)

Chapter Ten

Tall, Blond, and Insufferable

SARAH MICHELLE

The summon arrived at about mid-morning. Sarah Michelle strode into Chief Inquisitor King’s office, already knowing what it’d be about. Riley looked up from his desk, dark eyes assessing her. “What’s the latest on the Preston case?”

Right on point.

She stood at attention, meeting his gaze.

“I interviewed those closest to Elijah Preston yesterday: his ex-wife Zoe, his business partner,”—she faltered, she couldn’t bring herself to say Lorcan’s name aloud—“the victim’s close family, and a few key employees at Cornerstone Constructions,” Sarah Michelle reported, her voice again steady and professional.

“I also followed up on a lead about a potential suspect, but it didn’t pan out. ”

“What lead?”

“Preston had a public spat with a rival contractor, Chad Hamilton, but it was a dead end. Hamilton has a solid alibi for the time of the murder and no criminal record. Not the kind of man to hire a hitman over a construction bid. I asked the financial team to dig into Preston’s accounts and am waiting for the report. ”

Riley leaned back in his chair, frowning. “Any other leads on the horizon?”

“Not currently,” Sarah Michelle admitted, frustration simmering under her professionalism. “But I’ll keep digging.”

“See that you do. I expect your best work. The crime scene’s been unsealed, the evidence logged. Might be a good place to start.”

“I’ll head to the evidence room now.” She turned on her heel and exited, Riley’s expectant gaze boring into her back.

The evidence room was a lifeless space with no windows and harsh fluorescent lights bouncing off metal shelves stacked with carefully labeled bags and boxes.

The hum of the ventilation provided a droning soundtrack as Sarah Michelle rifled through the cataloged items with a single-minded focus: find a lead.

Preston’s bloodstained clothes, his personal effects, copies of his hard-drives, and scattered documents…

She examined each piece, searching for any overlooked clue.

A scribbled name repeated on several papers jumped out to her: Manor String. In some scrawls, Elijah had also doodled an asterisk near the words.

A quick search on the regular human Internet turned up nothing. The Darknet was another hole in the water. She made a note to ask Andromeda if she could dig up something about it in the most remote recesses of the web.

She put the stacks of otherwise useless papers aside and, plugging the copied hard drives into the evidence room computer, she started combing through Elijah’s digital records.

But as the hours dragged on, not a single scrap pointed to a viable suspect. It was like grasping at mist that dissolved in her hands. Sarah Michelle clenched her jaw. She couldn’t let Riley down, couldn’t let this case go cold. But the solution wasn’t sitting in this evidence room.

But where else to look? She was out of ideas. But Sarah Michelle wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t. Even if she had to turn over every rock in Salem.

The sun had already disappeared when Sarah Michelle stepped out of the police station, the chill night air doing little to cool her frustration.

The day had been an absolute bust—not what the boss expected from her.

She’d deal with that tomorrow. Now she wanted to go home, maybe drown her sorrows in a pint of midnight ice cream and a trashy witch romance novel.

But the gargoyles had other plans.

The moment she stepped onto the quiet street flanking the station, her eyes snagged on Lorcan Black lounging casually against a gnarled oak tree.

He looked like he owned the hexing place.

Shadows danced across his chiseled features.

The breeze ruffled his golden hair, but he seemed unaffected by the fall chill.

He must’ve wrapped himself in a warming spell. Magic bubbles were his specialty.

Sarah Michelle’s jaw clenched. She’d already had a crappy day. The last thing she needed was a run-in with Salem’s most infuriating wizard. But she couldn’t ignore him, not when he was clearly waiting for her. Squaring her shoulders, she marched over.

“Mr. Black,” she huffed. “What can the Salem MPD do for you?”

Lorcan’s lips quirked in that maddeningly smug grin. “The real question, detective, is what I can do for you .”

Sarah Michelle blinked. “Excuse me?”

He pushed off the tree, closing the distance between them with a few languid strides. “I have information. About the Preston case. And I’m willing to share… in exchange for a small stipulation.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re withholding evidence, I can arrest you for obstruction of justice. Then you can share the juicy details with the prison guards during your daily strip searches.”

Lorcan threw back his head and laughed, the reaction only infuriating her more.

“You think it’s funny?”

“Yes, Detective Callidora, I find your threats particularly devious and creative.”

“Only factual.” She unclipped the iron shackles at her belt. “Are you offering your wrists voluntarily, or do I have to magically subdue you?”

“I must admit, the idea of being subdued by you has its charms, but I have to decline the pleasure of your shackles today.”

She smiled sweetly. “That’s not up to you.”

Lorcan leaned in, his breath ghosting across her ear. “And what proof do you have to arrest me?” He pulled back, eyes taunting. “You really want to drag me before a judge again with no evidence? Remember how well that went last time?”

Sarah Michelle’s thoughts whirled, seeking any avenue of escape from having to deal with this impossible wizard.

But the chief’s expectations lingered at the back of her mind, and the need to crack this case was a living, breathing thing inside her.

Loathe as she was to admit it, if Lorcan had new information, she wanted it.

With a heavy sigh, she met Lorcan’s infuriatingly amused gaze. “Fine. What do you have, and what do you want in return?”

Lorcan’s smile widened, triumph shining in his blue-green eyes. “I merely wish to collaborate on the investigation. Pool our resources.”

Sarah Michelle scoffed. “And how do I know this supposed new information isn’t a load of dragon droppings?”

“Your distrust wounds me, detective.” Lorcan placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “I assure you, my intentions are pure.” Now his expression sobered, all traces of mocking gone. “Elijah was like a brother to me. I want to see his killer brought to justice.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Forgive me if I don’t take the word of a Black at face value.”

“Again, with the prejudices, detective.” His tone was clipped now. He had gone from teasing to intense alarmingly fast. “You don’t even know me.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve seen enough.”

Lorcan ignored her jab. “Have you come across the words Manor String in your investigation?”

“Yes,” Sarah Michelle confirmed, hoping her jaw had not dropped. “What does it mean? Was it a project you were working on?”

“No. I don’t know what it means, exactly. But I can help you find out…” The smirk came back. “If you let me in on the investigation.”

“Fine,” she bit out, the word tasting like acid on her tongue. “You have a deal. But if you double-cross me, Black, I swear to the fairies…”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, that infernal grin never wavering. “Wouldn’t dream of it, detective. I’m a wizard of my word.”

Somehow, that didn’t reassure her in the slightest. But Sarah Michelle had made a bargain with the devil. Now she could only pray it wouldn’t bite her in the ass.

She snapped her fingers, and a scrap of paper materialized in her hand with her address scrawled across it. “Meet me at my place in an hour.”

“I could come right now,” Lorcan offered.

She leveled him with a glare. “But I have had a long day, and I need a hot shower. One hour, Black. Don’t be late.”

He leaned in, playfully sniffing the surrounding air. “I suppose, unlike the other night with your little dry-rose-cyclone spell, I can allow you time for a proper shower.”

Heat crept into her cheeks at the memory of Lorcan sweaty and bare-chested, and the man’s grin turned wicked. “Then again, maybe you should make it a cold one.”

Fury surged through her veins, angry magic sparking at her fingertips.

Lorcan wisely took a step back. “One hour,” he agreed, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “Should I bring dinner? I know a great Indian place.”

Sarah Michelle set her jaw, refusing to be charmed. “Fine. Bring enough for three. My roommate will be there.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“And leave the charm home. It’s wasted on me.”

With that, she stalked to her car, not looking back. The drive home was a blur, her thoughts a vortex of frustration, second-guessing, and reluctant anticipation. She paid so little attention to the road, it took her a full minute to register she had pulled into her driveway.

She stormed inside, slamming the door behind her. “Andy! We’ve got company coming.”

Her roommate glanced up from the couch where she sat surrounded by crystals and burned-out incense sticks. Dressed in yoga pants and an oversized sweater, hair piled messily atop her head, Andromeda arched a brow. “Oh? Do tell.”

The fight drained out of her. “Lorcan Black. He’s… consulting on the case.”

Andromeda’s eyes went wide. “Tall, Blond, and Magical? I thought you were steering clear of that one.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t give me much choice.” Sarah Michelle shrugged out of her coat, tossing it over a chair. “Claims to have information, but he’ll only share if I let him tag along.”

“Hmm.” Andromeda tapped her chin. “And you’re completely aggravated at the idea of spending more time with him.”

Sarah Michelle glared. “I’m not some starry-eyed schoolgirl, Andy. I can handle Lorcan Black.”

Even if his mere presence sent her magic haywire and turned her insides to jelly.

“Yeah, who cares if he’s six-foot-four, with piercing blue eyes, and a smile that could melt a witch’s robes?” Andromeda shrugged, a smirk playing about her lips.

“Oh, shut up.” Sarah Michelle grabbed a throw pillow and chucked it at her giggling roommate. “I’m going to shower. Try not to burn the place down before he gets here.”

Andromeda saluted. “Aye-aye, captain.”

Rolling her eyes, Sarah Michelle headed for the bathroom, slamming the door on Andromeda’s amused chuckles.

She twisted the taps, sending a gush of steaming water into the tub.

After shucking her uniform, she stepped under the scalding spray, letting it beat against her skin as if it could scour away the day’s frustrations.

And the unwelcome tingle of excitement at the prospect of seeing Lorcan again.

“Hex it all,” she muttered, reaching for the shampoo. It wasn’t like her to get rattled by a wizard, no matter how magnetic his charm or piercing his gaze. She was a professional—putrid zombies eat her brains. She’d worked with informants before, even attractive ones. This was no different.

Except it was.

Because Lorcan Black wasn’t just any wizard. He was an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, cloaked in a fine set of muscles. One minute, he was all flirtatious banter and sly grins, the next, he showed an intense focus that sent shivers down her spine. She couldn’t get a read on him.

And Sarah Michelle hated that.

She scrubbed at her skin until it glowed pink, as if she could wash away the confusing jumble churning in her gut.

The steam curled around her, thick and heavy, but was no match for the tension coiled in her muscles.

If anything, the heat only sharpened her awareness, every nerve ending buzzing with restless energy.

“Get it together,” she scolded her foggy reflection in the shower screen. This was just another case, another witness to wrangle. She could handle Lorcan Black and his infuriating smirk. She had to.

Her sanity depended on it.

With a resolute nod, Sarah Michelle shut off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself in a fluffy towel. She’d faced down dark wizards and rogue magical beasts. She could survive one night with Tall, Blond, and Insufferable.

Even if his proximity turned the sensible side of her brain upside down and the keen look in his eyes promised delicious, delirious trouble.

Gargoyles help her.