Demons are a Ghoul's Best Friend: Afterglow, Book 2 (2 page)

Buck nodded. “Yeah. Instincts, I guess. You want me to look into it?”

“How?” Cheney shrugged. “There’s no one there. Nobody I can point to, no description—nothing. Hard to investigate an itch, and you know it.”

“Keep your eyes open, bud.” Buck straightened. “Just because we’ve taken care of one case and killed one crazy, doesn’t mean there aren’t others out there.”

“Yeah.” His lips curved into a grin. “You aren’t paranoid if they really
are
out to get you.”

“You got that right.” Buck grunted in agreement. “What’s on the schedule today?” He glanced at the paperwork. “Anything interesting?”

Cheney was about to reply when the distinctive sound of a woman’s heels clicked into his consciousness along with an increasing silence pervading the detectives’ usually noisy lair.

Along with everybody else, they looked up to see her walking toward them.

“Holy Mother…” Buck’s soft oath echoed Cheney’s thoughts exactly, right down to the little dots at the end of the trailed-off whisper.

She was tall, strikingly tall, and she walked with the confidence and purpose that came with money and success. Lots of both, probably. Blazing red hair was tightly knotted at the back of her head, throwing perfectly sculptured features into prominence. Full lips were curved beneath a strong nose, and dark eyebrows topped eyes that just had to be green, although from this distance he couldn’t be sure.

She wore a dark grey suit, snugly tailored to fit abundant curves, the waist of her jacket nipped in and her skirt smoothed over rounded hips that swayed as she walked. Every piece of her clothing was calculated to imply rather than reveal—the tiny little white lace collar of her demure shirt drawing attention to a flawless neck and merely hinting at the lush breasts beneath. The hem of her skirt fell discreetly to her knees but did nothing to obscure the obvious length of sleek leg, ending in a pair of killer-sharp spiked heels. Black of course.

Cheney swallowed roughly, responding like everyone else in the room to a stunningly sexy female. His loins twisted, and as she approached his desk, they did even more. Before she’d had a chance to open her mouth and say hello, he was hard.

When she stopped in front of his desk and smiled, he had to put a lot of effort into controlling an involuntary erection that would have embarrassed the hell out of him.

“Hi.” Buck’s voice was just the tiniest bit strained. “Can we help you?”

Those few seconds gave Cheney a chance to gather his errant thoughts, mentally stuff his cock back into his briefs and at least try to be professional. “Mornin’, ma’am. Something we can do for you?” He stood slowly, grateful his control was holding.

It took every ounce of strength he possessed to counter the effect as her gaze drifted to his face and slammed into his brain.

Her eyes were the most unusual teal blue he’d ever seen.

“Detective Fisher?”

Bells were ringing in Cheney’s ears and he almost shook his head to clear it. Drowning in her eyes, he could barely swallow, let alone nod.

Buck cleared his throat. “That would be my partner. The one staring at you and trying not to drool.”

Cheney found relief in Buck’s humor and clung to it as the world snapped back into place. “Excuse Detective Shand. He’s not himself this early in the morning. I’m not sure
who
he is, but he’s auditioning for a standup routine in the Catskills.” He paused. “And failing.”

The woman laughed, a rippling sound that brought a sigh of delight to his throat and most of the rest of the room as well, to judge by the indrawn breaths clearly audible around him.

“Perhaps you’d better sit down before this crew of cartoon characters trips over their collective tongues.” He motioned to a chair, and Buck slid it in front of Cheney’s desk.

She nodded her thanks to Buck. “Sorry. It happens a lot. You get to ignore it after a while.” She sat, crossing those mile-long legs modestly. “Although it’s useful in court sometimes.”

“You’re a lawyer?” Buck looked surprised.

“Yes.”

“See you later, dude.” Buck tipped his head toward Cheney, winked at him and left.

“Something I said?” A perfect eyebrow quirked upward.

“Don’t take it personally. Buck doesn’t do well with members of the legal profession.” Which translated into
he’s got more lawyer jokes than you’ve had hot breakfasts and thinks every lawyer on the planet should be taken out and shot
.

“It happens.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I should introduce myself. My name’s Pandora Jackson and I’m here to ask for your help in a delicate matter.”

He couldn’t stop himself from extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Jackson. I’m Detective Fisher. How can I help?”

She took his hand and shook it, the most casual and professional of touches, but it was enough to nearly stop his heart in its tracks. Goddammit, this woman was stirring things best left unstirred. Like his lust, his dick and his AG talent that was busily creating a mental illusion containing X-rated sexual high jinks and nudity.

He turned away from her intense tropical-blue gaze under the pretext of finding a pad of paper and a pencil. He liked to do some things the old-fashioned way, and taking notes was one of them.

Having fidgeted his way to some semblance of normalcy, he relaxed and watched Ms. Pandora Jackson gather her thoughts. “What makes you think you need a detective?” He paused. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

She lowered her eyelids and flashed a glance around the room. “I need help with a rather personal thing.”

He frowned. “You’re a lawyer. Don’t you have resources for this kind of thing? Well-paid and discreet employees? A couple of private investigators?”

Pandora blinked. “I’m not talking about a divorce case, Detective.”

His gaze took in her ringless hands. “Oh.” He moved an arm in a gesture of enquiry. “Then what do you need?”

Stupid question. Because she’s not about to answer that she needs hours in bed with a certain detective who’s hard enough to hammer nails right about now.

“I need—” She swallowed, a rippling movement of that silken throat.

No, Cheney. Keep your mind on your job. Forget about wondering what her skin would taste like.

“I need help with an abandoned puppy.”

“A puppy.” His brain turned the word over, making sure he’d understood it correctly. “A puppy as in four legs, a tail and puddles all over the place? Squeaky toys? That kind of puppy?”

“Yes.”

He blinked. “You want recommendations for a vet? A shelter?”

The muscles in her cheeks moved a little as she clenched her teeth. “No, Detective. I need
your
help.”

“
My
help.”

“Yes.”

“With an abandoned puppy.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not going to adopt it, you know.”

“I know.” Her teeth clenched harder. “This is a special puppy.”

“A special puppy?”

“Yes.”

“How special? Three ears or something?”

She glared at him. “
Very
special.”

“So you said.”

She bit her lip, white teeth against pink flesh, looking about ready to leap out of her chair and sink those selfsame teeth into his shins. “Would it help if I mentioned that Roz Hammond’s husband is a client of mine?”

Cheney’s head snapped up. Yes, it helped. And it scared the crap out of him. He stood abruptly. “Let’s take a walk.”

She rose at once. “Okay.”

Ignoring the soft mutters and a tiny wolf whistle, he took Ms. Jackson’s arm in a firm grasp and led her out of the precinct into the sunshine of what was turning out to be a distinctly challenging day.

Chapter Two

Pandora matched her stride to that of the tall detective, a pleasant change since she was unused to walking next to men who surpassed her in height, especially when she was in heels. For a few moments she indulged herself by enjoying the sensation, then sighed and surrendered to business. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere I know we won’t be overheard.”

His voice was sharp, edgy, and she knew she’d hit the right button by mentioning Roz. She needed this man’s help with her current problem since there was no one else she could turn to. Although the first time she’d seen him from a distance, she’d wondered if he was the right person. Up close, face-to-face, she’d been even less sure since every single female hormone in her body had woken up and started singing girl songs.

It had taken quite a bit of strength to overcome the gleeful hallelujah chorus going on in her panties, but she’d managed it. For now, she needed Detective Fisher’s talent,
not
his penis, magnificent though it assuredly would be.

He stopped next to a car in the parking lot, surprising Pandora, as her thoughts had been far away from mundane things. Like where they were going.

“Get in.” He held the door, his tone commanding and abrupt.

“Well, since you’re being so charming about it…” She slid into the passenger seat and waited for him to join her behind the wheel.

He did, but not to start the engine. He turned to her with an expressionless face. “Now tell me what the hell this is about.”

She took a breath. “I met Roz when her husband had some dealings with our firm. It was a social occasion. We chatted and she told me about her job with you. She was very discreet and spoke highly of you. But I’m not an idiot. I put two and two together—and came up with considerably more than four. You baby-sit what are, for lack of a better phrase,
challenged
AGs.”

He inclined his head slightly. “And if I do?”

She pursed her lips, seeking the right words. “If you do, if my assumption is correct, then you are one of the few people who can help with my little—er—problem.”

“You think you have a challenged AG?”

She snorted. “There’s no think about it. I
know
I do. And I’m not sure where to turn, who to ask for help. Since it’s a puppy, you came to mind.” She straightened her shoulders. “I don’t quite know how to explain this. First off, I’m not into putting down animals like they were useless bugs. Everything gets a chance, as far as I’m concerned.”

Cheney nodded. “Agreed.”

“So what I would like…” Pandora paused, uncertain of what it was she really wanted. “Look, I don’t have that much experience with young AGs, or puppies for that matter. But you don’t have to be a psychiatrist or a vet to look at this thing and know there’s an issue of some sort.” She turned to him, trying to keep the pain out of her voice. “I think it’s in trouble, Detective. I don’t know why, but there’s something about it that’s disturbing me.”

“That sounds like an emotional response to a stray, not anything I’d expect from a lawyer.”

She curled her lip. “I’m a lawyer in court and it’s what I do for a living. I like the law. Always have. But that doesn’t mean I snack on warm furry things and drown kittens in my off hours, for Chrissake.” She sighed. “This puppy ended up with me as the result of a court case. Nobody else would touch it.” She swallowed. “I’m not sure why I did. I had the same reaction. It doesn’t…feel right.”

“Feel right?”

“I know. Stupid thing to say and a completely unreliable statement I’d tear apart in the courtroom. But it’s true. Maybe it was the environment it was born into.” Staring absently out of the car window, she tried to shed the unpleasant memories. “The case sucked. It was about animal abuse and an unscrupulous, money-grubbing leech.” She grinned suddenly. “I won. He won’t be abusing anything else for quite some time. In fact, he’s got five to ten years of finding out what it’s like on the
other
side of punishment. Not to mention I took him for every filthy penny he’d ever filtered into an offshore bank account.”

She flashed a quick glance at Cheney. “Global internet finance laws are quite restrictive these days.”

“So I’ve heard.” His voice was still cool.

“After the case, the evidence, as in the poor creatures involved, went to adoption agencies or homes. No worries about them. It was just this one…nobody wanted him. Honestly? I didn’t either.”

“Why?”

“Again, I don’t really know. Call it gut instinct. But as I said, turning him over to some euthanasia company…well, I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it.”

“And…” prompted Cheney.

“Well, I remembered my conversation with Roz. I decided to speak with you and ask if there was any way you could—
evaluate
this creature? Use whatever skills you have to tell me what the hell’s going on with it?”

“This isn’t a police matter.”

“No, it’s not.”

“And it wouldn’t go any further than the two of us?”

“Are you
nuts
? You think I want every associate in the firm thinking I’m a pushover for a pair of floppy ears and a wagging tail?”

His face relaxed into a grin at her outrage. “I guess that wouldn’t do the image any good, would it?”

“Damn straight.” Pandora shuddered. “No matter how civilized we get, it’s still tough for a woman to get past the breasts thing and be accepted for her brains not her bra size.”

Annoyed at herself, she realized she was watching his gaze drift to her breasts. And rather enjoying it.

“We’re getting off topic.”
Or at least I am
. She shifted in the seat. “Will you help me?”

Silence fell for a few moments as he took a turn staring out of the window, thinking. She mentally crossed her fingers and waited patiently, saying nothing, just hoping he’d be curious enough to do as she asked.

Then he made a slight sound and reached for the ignition. “Fasten your seat belt.”

Doing as she was told, Pandora glanced at him. “Where are we going?”

“I guess I’m going to have to show you what I do. Then, if you think it will work on your pup, we’ll go from there.” He backed out of the lot and turned west. “Needless to say, Counselor, what happens from here on is going to be covered by lawyer-client privilege, okay?”

“You’re not my client.”

“I don’t care. I want your word that this will be confidential or I turn this car around right now and you can find yourself another resource.”

“There aren’t any.”

“I know.”