Allison Brennan - Carnal Sin

An unmarked black pool car pulled up behind the black-and-white. Jeff got out of the driver’s seat, and-Grant almost couldn’t believe Johnston’s audacity! — Raphael Cooper stepped out of the passenger seat.

What was his partner doing with that prick? Where was Moira O’Donnell? In the back of his mind Grant remembered Jeff saying that the Donovan sisters had kidnapped her. Kidnapped? Ludicrous. As ridiculous as Nina Hardwick’s accusation that Pamela Erickson was a witch. Or Moira O’Donnell’s claim that she was a psychic.

He reached for the handle only to remember he was in the back of the patrol car and trapped. He saw his partner talking-arguing-with the cop, but he could hear only indistinct voices and isolated words.

Stress. Difficult case. Girlfriend .

“Ex-girlfriend,” Grant mumbled.

He didn’t know why he insisted that Julie was his ex . He still slept with her. He still sought out her company. He still called her in the middle of the night when he had insomnia. When he’d had a rough day. When he had to tell a mother that her son was dead.

He stared at his hands. He’d calmed down enough to convince the uniform not to cuff him, even though he was still trapped in the back of the patrol car. He’d been there the day the sheriff had come to the house and told his mother that Brian had died. That Brian had died a hero defending an elderly couple in a twenty-four-hour convenience store during a holdup didn’t matter. He was dead. Grant’s little brother was dead, and his mother had never recovered. And she never wanted to look at Grant again, since Grant was the one who had told Brian to go to the store. Brian always did what Grant said. And Brian was dead.

Julie had listened. God, he missed talking to her. He just wanted to make everything up to her. Maybe there was more to them than he’d realized. Maybe he should have tried harder to make the relationship work. He didn’t want to be with her 24/7, but when he wasn’t, he missed her.

He wanted to fix everything. With Julie. With them . With their future.

The door opened and the uniform said, “You can go. But I’m writing this up.”

He wanted to deck the prick-again-but relief over getting out of this damn car won over vengeance.

Grant stepped out, saw Cooper again. “What’s he doing here?”

He hadn’t meant to sound so gruff or ungrateful-he was damn humiliated, but he couldn’t think about that now. Raphael Cooper stared at him as if he were a problem. He was a cop.

Jeff put a hand on his forearm. “Grant, let’s go back-”

Grant shook Jeff off. “I need to find Julie.”

“All right,” Jeff said, then glanced at Cooper.

“Why are you looking at him?” Grant asked. “Is he in charge now? Is he your senior officer?”

“Detective,” Jeff said, sounding stern but looking uncertain, “I think we should talk about this in private.”

“Fuck that. I’m going to Velocity-Julie is waiting for me, and I need to talk to her about this case.” That sounded lame, but he couldn’t think of another reason for this overwhelming need to see Julie. Now. Passing cars on Washington Boulevard slowed as the drivers turned their necks to see what the commotion was about. The kids from the park were watching from the field. Grant’s humiliation made him want to fight, to regain ground. To do something to fix this. But the only thing that would fix it was Julie. He had to see her. Only thinking about her made the pain fade enough so he didn’t think he was dying.

“I’ll take you,” Jeff said quickly. Too quickly.

“What’s going on?”

“I could ask the same about you,” Jeff said.

Jeff was acting like he was the problem. “Shit, Jeff, I have a migraine the size of Dodger Stadium, that’s what’s wrong. Why the fuck is Cooper here? Why’d you bring him? Where’s O’Donnell?”

“We’ll talk in the car,” Jeff said.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. There’s nothing wrong with the engine in my car. I’m getting my keys-”

“I have your keys, Grant. You’re in no condition to drive.”

“I’m not on anything!”

Cooper said, “Detective, you’re sick-we don’t have a lot of time, I’ll explain on the-”

Before Cooper could finish his sentence, Grant charged him. He would not tolerate a civilian giving him orders. He was not sick.

Then why is your dick hard as a rock and your head is about to explode? Why were you thinking of picking up a hooker? Why’d you hurt Julie during sex?

Something was wrong with him, but he couldn’t focus.

He tackled Cooper, but the larger man pivoted and Grant went down hard on his right arm. Cooper was down, too, but he rolled away and jumped up, as fluid as a prizefighter.

Jeff grabbed Grant by the arm and pulled him up. “Stop,” he said in a low voice so only he could hear. “You’re making this worse. I can fix it, but not if you don’t calm down.”

Grant let Jeff walk him to the pool car. Cooper got into the passenger seat. “I’m not sitting in the back like a criminal,” Grant said. His vision was blurring and he shook his head to clear it, but that made the migraine pound. He grabbed his head and squeezed as if trying to hold his skull together. He stumbled and would have fallen to his knees if Jeff hadn’t held him up.

“It’s going to be okay, Grant. I promise. We’re going to see someone who can fix this. You’re going to get through this.”

“We’re going to Velocity. To see Julie.”

“Sure,” Jeff said. He glanced at Cooper and refused to look Grant in the eye.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Grant, I think-”

Grant pushed Jeff hard against the car and ran in the other direction. What was wrong with everyone? Why wouldn’t they give him a straight answer?

A sharp pain exploded in his lower back and his body vibrated violently as he fell to the sidewalk, twitching and dazed. His last clear image was of his partner standing over him as he lay nearly paralyzed from the Taser.

“I’m sorry, Nelson, but I didn’t have a choice.”

Moira assessed the situation pretty quickly, coming to the conclusion that she was screwed big-time.

She’d done exactly what Rafe would have told her to do: wait for an opportunity. But so far, there had been no chance to escape. And now, Wendy had her tied down in a spirit trap. She’d been stripped down to her bra and jeans, her leather jacket and turtleneck shirt tossed to the far side of the room. There was nothing sexual about her partial nakedness-Wendy had searched her completely and found all her goodies. The sacred oil, the holy water, the salt lining in her jacket, the iron in the pockets, the devil’s cuff-everything that could have helped Moira fight demons. All gone.

Yep, she was screwed.

“Where are we?” she asked. She’d only seen a small portion of the mansion Nicole had brought her to-secluded, opulent, and empty. They were in the dining room. The table had been pushed to the side, all the chairs had been removed, and a spirit trap was painted on the wooden floor. Pam Erickson watched from one of two doorways, and Nicole had laid out her tools on the table: an asthame, glass bowl, and a variety of dried herbs. Moira also noted a vial of blood.

“Kent Galion’s house,” Wendy said. “It’s perfect. Rape, murder, violence-perfect to complete the ritual. I like the balance.”

She sounded so much like Fiona, except for one major difference. Moira had never doubted Fiona’s sanity-she was simply evil and selfish. But Wendy was a magician and crazy. A dangerous combination.

Moira said, “As I told Nicole, you’re a fool. You don’t have a succubus in your power, you have the demon Lust, and she’s only playing along with you until she completes your demands; then she’s free.”