Page 27 of They Call Me Wicked

“What are you hiding?” I soften the accusation with a smirk, hoping he doesn’t take it the wrong way.

“Well, there’s some from you…last night. You know, after you went to bed. From outside your window.” My brows crinkle in confusion before realization hits, and I suddenly feel like I might expel the contents of my stomach. Delicious going in, not so much coming out. I just barely hold it down as my skin begins to tingle in the not so good way. Almost like a billion pins and needles are stabbing me from every direction.

“Right…” Well, that’s all I have to say on that. I stand in place, my mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish before I simply turn and walk out of the kitchen. I will definitely be avoiding that conversation at all costs. Let’s just pretend it never happened. Yeah, let’s do that.

I make my way down the hall–luckily not tripping on anything in the process–which makes me think the guys really are following the rules. Good.

Finding the door I’m looking for, I twist the knob and swing it open. The hall closet contains nothing but boxes and boxes of my own personal mementos and things I want to keep, all labeled with braille and organized like Marie Kondo herself paid me a visit. But no, it was Mrs. Dixon, who’s even better than Marie, if I do say so myself.

I feel over the labels, pulling out the bins that I need and depositing the rest back in the closet until I have at least six heavy ass containers sitting in the hallway with me. On my knees, I reach back in, feeling to the left wall and grab at the rough surface of my cork board and pull that out with me.

“Hey, guys! Can one of you come help me?” Their auras–which start off barely detectable from the other side of the house–grow closer until they’re all standing with me, confusion swirling around me from Nic and Kai.

“What’s all this, Wicked? You planning on ditching us and moving away?” Kai teases, just a flash of actual concern pulsing through his jovial mood.

“Nope. These are actually case files from every case I have ever solved or helped with. I was thinking, if someone were angry enough or close enough to gain an obsession with me, it might be one of the loons in here. There are quite a few actual mental cases that I’ve put away. I’ve probably impressed quite a few of them with my amazing abilities and charming personality.” I smile widely, my amusement cutting off just as quickly when Nic’s dumbass self snorts loudly enough that it can’t be mistaken for anything but derision.

Yet, his aura speaks differently.

“It’s okay to be impressed with me, darling. I know I’m fucking amazing.” I grin towards him, smug as shit. Nic simply mutters out a few choice Spanish words before stomping away, something that is becoming quite the repeated performance around me.

“That’s awesome, Wick!” Kai sounds excited as he claps his hands and starts lifting containers off of the floor. “Where do you want them?”

“Uhh, living room, I think. But please make sure all the curtains are closed. If the dude is watching me this closely, I don’t want him to know what we’re doing.” I bite at my lip before moving to grab a container, but before I can, Ezra’s suffocatingly large aura intercepts me and grabs the rest. His giant mountain man self, easily lifting the rest of the containers, which would have taken me at least six trips to transport, making my mouth drop open in awe.

He doesn’t even notice me frozen in place, heat zinging up my spine, with an urge to latch onto him like a monkey in heat. I’m stuck imagining swinging around his tree trunk form and using his arms like branches for purchase while I ride him like my life depends on it. You know, the usual–normal–kind of fantasy.

Totally normal.

Picking my jaw off the floor and scrambling back to my feet, I take a moment to cool off. Waving at my face with my hand like a southern lady in the twenties, I lean towards the wall, almost falling on my ass when I nearly miss it entirely.

I am so smooth.

Quickly closing the massive closet, I head towards the living room, ignoring the guys completely. I mean, I honestly don’t think straight when it comes to them, and this needs focus.

“Cork board?” I reach my hands out and wait for it to be deposited in them before turning. I set up the extendable legs on the back, pulling out the small container of tacks that I had placed in my back pocket and setting them on the ledge at the bottom. “Where are the containers?”

“Over here.” Kai’s voice comes from my left, so I head towards him. “They’re all stacked together, so it should be easy for you to grab.”

“Thank you.” My cheeks start burning at his helpfulness, not really used to this sort of treatment at all. Seriously, a girl could get used to this. Which makes me wonder what will happen when it inevitably goes away…

Feeling the lid of the container on top of the pile, I figure out the name and date of the case that it is, and open it.

“How long have you worked for the department?” Kai asks, his voice closer than I envisioned him being.

“About seven years, I think,” I murmur absently, my focus on the case in front of me.

“Which one is this? I can’t read braille, sorry.” I hear him scratch at the back of his head apologetically and I smile softly.

“No worries. I’ll tell you what each one says and, if you can find the space, you can write it out for you guys.” I take the folder out of the container and read it with my fingers. “This is the case of The Connoisseur, aka Alfred Bernard, Alfie for short. One of my first ones, actually.” I flip through the unnecessary pages and grab the one labeled as the photo of The Connoisseur.

“Oh shit. I remember hearing about that one back when I worked in Chicago! It was actually one of the reasons why I took the transfer here instead of somewhere else. It was like huge news even in the windy city.” Kai sounds extremely impressed with quite a bit of awe in his voice and I wring my hands together as my face and neck heat to an impossible degree. “Are you blushing? Holy shit! I actually made Wicked blush like a girl!”

He laughs and I swing back on instinct and punch him in the stomach. At least I’m assuming it was his stomach based on the whooshing of air that leaves his throat. It could have easily been anything with how fucking hard it was. Seriously, I might have fractured my damn knuckle.

“Anyways!” I trace my fingers over a few of the file’s contents before replacing them. “The Connoisseur can definitely go on the board. He grew particularly interested in me during his arrest and trial. It probably didn’t help that I actually had to be the bait to catch him. It put me right in his crosshairs.”

“Wait, what?”

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