Page 21 of A Match Made in Coven (Paranormal Romance #2)
Chapter Twenty-one
Real Estate and Real Annoyances
SARAH MICHELLE
At the police station, Sarah Michelle rapped her knuckles against the wood of Malatesta’s door, a cardboard box brimming with files on the Preston case balanced precariously in her arms. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead cast a sterile glow on the worn linoleum floors, the constant hum of the station’s activity buzzing in the background.
“Come in,” a deep voice called from inside.
She took a breath and walked into the office. Donatello Malatesta peered up from his desk, clicking his tongue as his gaze landed on her.
The fluorescent lights softened as they fell upon his features, highlighting the firm lines of his Mediterranean profile.
His dark, wavy hair was tousled as if he’d been running his fingers through it in concentration.
The sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing tanned, muscular forearms that spoke of an athletic build under his professional attire.
“Ah, it’s you.” His dark eyes flashed with curiosity. “Rough day?”
As he stood to greet her, he towered over her, his tall frame exuding an air of quiet strength. The shadow of stubble along his strong jawline gave him a rugged edge that contrasted with his otherwise polished appearance.
She was distracted by how well his broad shoulders filled out his shirt, the leather straps of his chest holster cutting crisp lines across the muscles under, emphasizing the sculpted contours of his upper body.
Averting her eyes, before he caught her staring, Sarah Michelle dropped the heavy box on his desk with a thud. “It’s already been cursed enough, Malatesta, so please don’t gloat,” she replied in a curt tone that reflected her frayed nerves.
“I wasn’t about to.”
They studied one another, sizing each other up. But uncharacteristically, Sarah Michelle lowered her gaze first, fixating on his cluttered but organized desk.
After a beat of tense silence, Donatello leaned forward, his deep brown eyes probing yet sincere. “So, how do you want to do this?”
Sarah Michelle furrowed her brow. “Do what? You need a recap of where I’m at with the case before you take over?” She fought to keep the bitterness from her voice.
He shook his head, a few strands of dark hair falling across his forehead. “No, that’s not what I meant. Look, no matter what the boss says, if it were me, I’d still want to see the investigation through. Catch the killer myself, right?”
He sounded sincere, but Sarah Michelle wasn’t sure what angle he was playing. She studied his chiseled features to read between the lines. Suspicion mingled with uncertainty as she waited for him to lay his cards on the table.
Donatello’s strong jawline was set with determination as he made his offer. “Here’s the deal. We collaborate on this case, under the radar. I keep you fully looped in.” His dark eyes held hers. “The chief doesn’t need to know.”
Sarah Michelle bristled.
So that’s his game.
He wanted her to do the grunt work while he swooped in to take the credit. Typical. They weren’t exactly friends, and Malatesta had a bit of a reputation for being a grade-A jinxweasel.
As if reading her thoughts, Donatello held up a hand.
“I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t about me stealing the credit without doing the heavy lifting.
We work this together as equal partners.
Your involvement stays on the down low for now.
” His gaze never wavered. He seemed sincere.
“Then, once we catch the killer, we both present to Riley. You have to give the chief a chance to cool off, get the Intermixing Department off his back about that bar hexstorm.” A small smirk played at the corner of his mouth.
“Trust me, I’ve got no interest in poaching cases from talented colleagues. I’m not an ass.”
Sarah Michelle blinked in surprise, impressed despite herself.
Well, well. There’s more to Malatesta than meets the eye.
She smiled, accepting his offer. The moment she did, a wave of relief washed over Sarah Michelle. Until now, she hadn’t even realized how much she wanted to be the one to solve the case. The tension in her shoulders eased like a tightly wound spring finally allowed to uncoil.
“I… appreciate that.”
The corners of Donatello’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. It transformed his face, making him look younger and more approachable. “So, partners?” He extended his hand across the desk.
Sarah Michelle shook it. “Partners.”
***
Despite her pact with Malatesta, as Sarah Michelle drove home that night, a storm of frustration and anger brewed within her. The unfairness of it all gnawed at her insides—being taken off the case, getting punished for the chaos at The Backroom, all because of him. Hexing Lorcan Black.
If it weren’t for that insufferable wizard, she wouldn’t be in this mess. His refusal to back the hex off, that magnetic charm he wielded like a weapon… It all made her blood boil.
By the time she pulled into her driveway, Sarah Michelle’s temples throbbed with the beginnings of a headache. She trudged up the porch steps, wishing she could be obliviated herself.
The mere thought of a bath—the soothing heat seeping into her aching muscles, washing away the stench of stale beer and darker things—was the singular comfort she could cling to.
She waved her hand, murmuring a spell, and her front door swung open with a soft click. As she crossed the threshold, a blur of silvery brown fur darted out to greet her. Despite her foul mood, she smiled.
“Hey there, Nox.” She scooped up the ferret, nuzzling his soft fur. “Miss me?”
Nox chittered in response, his warm weight a balm to her sore ego.
“Hey, you’re home.” Andromeda stood up from the couch, carrying her laptop, eyes still glued to the screen. “I wanted to talk to you about—” She lifted her eyes and stopped talking as she took stock of Sarah Michelle’s disheveled appearance. She gasped. “Gargoyles, Shelly. What happened to you?”
“It’s been hell, Andy,” she began, kicking off her boots and shrugging out of her jacket. She gave her roommate a sum-up of the hellpit-show her day had been.
Andromeda’s face lit up with a smile when Sarah Michelle was done—not the reaction she’d expected. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re still on the case, even if it’s unofficially. I’ve got news that will cheer you up.”
“I seriously doubt it.”
“I finally cracked what Morning Star means!”
Sarah Michelle smirked despite herself. “Okay, let me get changed.”
“You got it. I’ll make tea in the meantime. Then we can dive into what I’ve found.”
Grateful for the reprieve, Sarah Michelle headed to her room, peeling off her uniform.
She gave herself a dry cyclone shower, a spell she’d perfectioned in her rookie days when her spare time was spent sleeping, and slipped into the comfort of soft leggings and an oversized sweater—the hot bath would have to wait.
When she returned to the living room, Andromeda was waiting on the couch, two steaming mugs of moonlight tea on the coffee table and her laptop balanced on her knees.
Sarah Michelle settled beside her, accepting the offered mug with a murmured thanks. As she took a sip of the tea, the warm, soothing liquid chased away some of the tension that had taken root in her body.
“Okay.” She turned to face her roommate. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”
“Morning Star is the name of a shell company that’s the major investor in the new mall development happening just out of town.”
“Mmm.” Sarah Michelle was already working to connect the dots. Since it was real estate related, it could be about Elijah’s work, but then why the need to put it in code? “Did anything seem weird about the company?”
“It took a lot of digging and a bit of hacking—”
Sarah Michelle held up a hand, stopping her. “I don’t want to know how you dug up the info, especially if it’s illegal. Just tell me what you found.”
Andromeda nodded, her expression turning serious. “Roger that.” She focused on her laptop screen, scrolling through the information. “The main shareholder in the holding that controls Morning Star is a councilman in Salem, Thaddeus MacGregor.”
“What’s weird about that?”
“When I searched Thaddeus MacGregor online, the first links were articles about him firmly opposing the construction of the new mall,” Andromeda explained, turning the laptop to show her the search results.
Sarah Michelle’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the headlines, the riddle thickening. “Why would the major investor in a new development publicly condemn it and do his best to block it in the council?” It made no sense.
“I have no idea.” Andromeda shrugged. Then, with a merciless smirk, she asked, “Do you know anyone in real estate who could help you solve this mystery?”
Sarah Michelle groaned because she knew exactly one wizard who was an expert in human real estate—an intolerably handsome wizard who was going to be so smug about her needing his help.
Lorcan was a perfect storm of good looks, bad ancestry, and even worse savior complexes designed to test both her patience and self-control.