Page 4 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

I do, however, take comfort in knowing that the only thing I murdered was his cumshot. I could never be involved in an actual murder, because I’d pass out before the first drop of blood hit the floor. I may have been a little unhinged, but at least I wasn’t heartless.

“Maggie, are ya listenin’?”

“Oh—sorry—Annie. I was just thinking about Mark.”

“Eh, lord child! Pay that man no mind! His dick ain’t never gonna please him for as long as he lives, you saw to that. No man’s ever gonna cross Miss Maggie again, am I right?” She chuckled.

Honestly, it might’ve been the only spell I’d ever cast with true long-term benefits. Public service, really.

“Yeah, I guess.” I said, a heaviness looming over me. “What if I’m destined to live without experiencing true love? What if I’ve wasted all this time hooking-up that I missed the one?”

There it was again—that gnawing voice. The one that whispered I’d turned down the wrong path all those years ago and never found the road back.

“Girl, we ain’t got no time for this. You know as well as I do that somewhere out there is a man willing to give you a happily ever after.”

Annie always had this certain look about her when she’d reassure me that no matter how shitty I felt, everything would work out in my favor. She’d get serious, her eyebrows knitted in a tight ‘V’, lips narrowed and firm, and she spoke through her clenched teeth—letting me know I’d better listen up.

“Now go on, get right on that plane and experience your new life. It’ll never happen if you just stand there talking to me all day. Besides, you already slept with most of the men in this town. It’s ‘bout time you moved on to new breeding stock.”

We both chuckled.

“Am I right?” she asked.

I smiled, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Then go find your man. A man who’s gonna love you so hard you can’t ever let go. Besides, with those curves, ooh child, you don’t need no magic to draw them in.”

The trill of my alarm sent a prickle over my skin.

“Alright, Annie, time to go.” My eyes welled at the thought of never seeing her again.

“I guess we have to say our goodbyes before I miss my flight. I love you… and… thank you. Thank you for everything.” My throat tightened like I’d swallowed a fist. Goodbye wasn’t supposed to feel this final.

I hated change. Even when I asked for it.

“Bless your heart, girl. I love you too, but it ain’t never goodbye, only see you soon. Text me when you get all settled.” Annie hung up first.

I stood staring at my phone’s blank screen for a moment before slipping it into my crossbody purse on the counter.

“At least you and Annie love me, Chester.” I whispered, gave my sleeping cat-child a squeeze and slipped him into his soft-sided carrier.

When I made the decision to move, it caught everyone off guard—myself included.

My estranged great-uncle Silas’s passing set a chain of events into motion. For reasons I’d never learn, he chose me as the heir of his estate—I’d never even met the guy.

Apparently he had some outstanding medical bills and lavish debts at the time of his death, so his things were auctioned off; I inherited what remained—the property, an old car, and whatever else I found upon arrival.

I didn’t know what I was walking into. But if Port Grey was half as charming as Google made it seem—and didn’t chew me up and spit me out—I might finally get the fresh start I kept pretending I wasn’t terrified of.

Graham

“You’re twenty minutes late, Locke! Shift started at three.” Nettles barked, the same way he did every day like I didn’t know the drill as I strolled into the briefing room filled with eager officers itching to make a name for themselves, boost their stats, meet their fucking quotas.

“God, I hate it here.” I took a slow sip of my coffee, letting the bitterness match my soul.

For the record, I wasn’t late. I arrived exactly when I wanted to—at the end of his ‘ Protocol Can Save the Universe ’ sermon.

I didn’t care about protocol.

You don’t waste your time wondering if Daddy would approve when you’re trying to stop a guy from offing his girlfriend in the kitchen.

I wasn’t like the others—the ones who thought the badge made them better than civilians. Like fear made you respectable. Yeah, that wasn’t for me.

I didn’t give a shit if someone forgot a blinker, or rolled a stop sign at 2 A.M. when the streets were dead.

That kind of rule-breaking didn’t hurt anyone.

I cared about the kind that did.

The evil that the judicial system thought deserved a second chance.

I wasn’t here to be liked.

I was here to make sure the monsters didn’t walk out smiling.

Pushing past the officers leaving to start their shift, I approached Captain Nettles. “Sorry, Cap, got ambushed by this little minx on the way in.” I bit into one of the fresh blueberry hand pies my old partner Shell picked up.

“You know you might actually learn something if you sat through one of these briefings.” Nettles rolled up his sleeves, the faded blue anchor inked on his forearm flexing as he did—like he was trying to prove his authority over me because he had “rank” and a military history.

“Like what, how Sheffield—that ingrown asshair—has me on Surfside patrol again?” I said, eyeing the little prick as he filtered out of the briefing room with the others before taking another sip of coffee.

“If I wanted to babysit sunburnt tourists and write parking tickets all day,” I took another sip of coffee. “I would have been a mall cop.”

“Locke, you’ve got to take this seriously if you are ever going to make detective.” His jaw was tight, and I could see his muscles working as he clenched it.

“What’s there to take seriously?” My jaw tightened just like his, we were both stubborn enough we could go on like this all day. “You haven’t even given me a shot at detective work, even though I solve cases faster than half the idiots wearing the badge here.”

I paced the now empty briefing room, my fists clenched at my sides. God, he knew how to push my buttons. And he knew I was the best officer he had. “Eight goddamn years. I’ve given you eight years. I deserve it and you know it.”

“Look, Locke, you’re a good cop. Maybe even a great one someday. But you can’t show up late, eat pastries in my face, and expect me to slap a detective badge on your chest. Besides, I’m afraid you’ll fly off the handle when you get a case that’s too?—”

“Too what?” I asked knowing exactly where he was going.

“Close to home.” He pulled a plastic-wrapped toothpick from his pocket, unwrapped it and placed it between his lower lip and thick ginger mustache.

“Cap, I’m fine. It doesn’t do any good letting the bad guy get away because you’re worried I’ll beat a rapist up, or dispose of a proven murderer in my own way.”

He huffed. “I didn’t hear that.” He pulled his suit coat from the back of his chair and swung it over his shoulder, apparently done with the conversation. “Just do your job, and you’ll get there. I pulled your assignment from Sheffield. Today you’re with me.”

“This is bullshit, you know.” I stepped into the hall, holding the door open with my body, waiting for him to follow me out. “Don’t expect me to be your sidekick.”

I popped the last bit of pastry into my mouth. “And you can get your own damn donuts.”