Page 28 of They Call Me Wicked

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard about his particular…style of killing, right?” I feel Nic’s aura grow more interested in the topic as Kai and I talk, and I know Ezra is listening in too, even if he isn’t outright projecting it to me. Gizmo and Snitch are off busying themselves with their toys in the other room, the squeaks and random bangs giving their activities away.

“He rapes and murders women?” Kai’s answer starts off as a statement that morphs into a question when he realizes it’s not that simple.

“That’s the short version, yeah. But really, it was more complicated. Every one of his victims were female, aged twenty to thirty, with at least one characteristic similar to his mother. But even the similarities are not where it ends. Each one of them had to have been lonely in one way or another. Be it divorce, widowed, or just…alone in life. He would abduct them by drugging them and then take them to a remote location he had set up beforehand. Each woman would wake up in a fancy dress, sitting at a linen-covered table, with fancy decorations surrounding them. Like candles, vases, and fairy lights. You know, the whole romantic night out kinda thing.”

I wave my hands about, trying to articulate my thoughts. The guys’ aura’s swirling with a combination of concern and rapt interest.

“They would be forced to eat dinner with him–his mother’s famous pot roast recipe–before he raped them. Afterward,while they were still broken, bleeding, and traumatized, he would make them toast a glass of champagne with him to ‘celebrate’ their union. But the glass they drank would be spiked with a lethal dose of belladonna, resulting in their unavoidable death. Afterwards, he would redress them, place them back in their chair like they’re just sitting at a dinner table, and leave them to be found.”

“Dude had some serious mommy issues.” As usual, Kai is trying to make light of the situation, his humor shining from his aura, yet always hiding the truth beneath the surface. The hints of disgust and discomfort are quite obvious to someone like me. “And you had to play bait to catch him? Don’t you, like, get visions of their guilt and they get locked up?”

“It doesn’t quite work like that.” I’m stunned for a moment, realizing I’ve never really worked with anyone but Alan, so no one truly gets to see exactly how I can contribute to a case…and how I can’t. “See, sometimes the visions aren’t clear cut. Like, if the victim was drugged or somehow incapacitated, they will be extremely blurry and hard to decipher, especially depending on the kind of drug used.

“In my visions, because I’m usually making contact with the victim, I will see and experience what they do. So, essentially, I’m drugged as well. Which can make it difficult to figure out what’s going on. If I’m getting my vision from a crime scene without a body, or from a personal object, ithasto have a strong connection with the crime or victim–like a hugely heightened emotion or mental imprint. And at that point, it’s more of a third person view. An aerial or bird’s eye. Whatever you want to call it.” I wave my hands in circles as I speak, dumbly trying to reinforce what I’m describing.

The guys listen intently, not interrupting or reacting, just hanging on my every word. I’m not sure the last time I’ve had someone–orsomeones–listen to me like this. Just let me speak and act like what I’m saying has any weight or importance to them. Sure, Alan listens to me to a degree, but only as far as my visions are concerned. When it comes to my input on how to solve a case, or what we can do to catch the baddie, it goes in one ear and out the other. And weneversit and blab about feelings, thoughts, or anything of the sort. It’s always just a basic catch up on life. Surface level small talk, if you will.

It’s not like that with the guys. Even Nic appears to be paying close attention to everything I say.

My insides seem to inflate with the thought, like I’m almost…psyched to be heard. It’s kind of scary.

“And then there’s the other end of it, even if my visions are crystal clear and I know exactly who did it–like with the woman outside of the restaurant last week–it’s still my word against theirs. The courts don’t take the word of apsychicblindly.” I continue speaking, like I’m giving some sort of lesson on all things psychic. “The department–more specifically, Alan–has to go and gather concrete evidence to support my visions. So, police work is still an absolute must and in the case of The Connoisseur, we had to bait him out, put me on his radar and wait for him to attack. Alan was one hundred percent against it, of course, but hey, I’m always going to be me. I made it happen. Well, more like I did it and let him know after it started, and he came in at the last minute to save my ass. But, you know, semantics.”

“What the hell?” Kai is shocked more than anything. His aura is a mixture of too many emotions for me to nail down into just a few. But Nic? God, the man is infuriatingly smug and satisfied, like I just proved his theory about me correct.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m guessing it’s impossible to pronounce.” I aim the words at the asshole, my head angling in his direction as I mentally clap myself on the back for the awesome dig. Fuck yeah.

“Don’t get pissy because I’m right. You are far more trouble than you’re worth. Never, in my thirty years on this goddamn earth, have I ever run into someone as absolutely infuriating as you. You do what you want, say what you want, and damn the consequences. You put not only yourself, but everyone around you at risk with your bullshit. And one of these days, you’re going to get someone you care about killed.” His temper rises with every word, and so does mine.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

“Go fuck yourself, Mr. Gray-Sprinkle-On-A-Rainbow-Cupcake. I only do what needs to be done to get the job done. Without me, who knows how many terrible fucking people would have walked away, or never been caught. There’s far too much red tape for the department to do anything in most cases. Your ass should be thanking me!” My hands shake as I grip onto the case file in my hands like it’s the one thing keeping me from bashing his damn head in.

“Thanking you? Thanking you?! Our precinct is a fucking jokebecauseof you! No one takes us seriously with a goddamnpsíquicarunning around getting everyone into trouble and risking the lives of those around her. And instead of stepping back when people are dying because of you, what do you do? You fucking refuse! Your stubborn ass could have gone straight to a safehouse and this morning’s fun little surprise wouldn’t have happened. What happens when he goes after one of us? Or you? Or Alan? Or yourabuela?”

“Don’t you dare talk about my nana!” I bellow, dropping the folder in my hands and whirling towards Nic, the thirst for blood very real. “You sound an awful lot like someone who wants to get shanked today! And guess what, motherfucker? I’m going to catch this guy just like I’ve caught everyone else who has dared make their way onto my radar! Then I’ll laugh in yourfuglyass face with a giant banner behind me in bright pink spelling out ‘I told you so’ right before glitter bombing your entire house. Don’t think I won’t!” I huff, taking a few gasping breaths before continuing on my tirade.

“And trust me, little man, keep pushing me and I’ll start digging deeper. Then everyone and their mom will know every single dark secret you have. And I’m sure they’re far worse than the fact that you’re a sucker for The Bachelorette and secretly wish the bitch would end up with both Austin and Taylor! Oh yes, even worse than that.” A delightfully wicked grin lights up my face as his rage reaches nuke worthy explosive levels. I steel my spine when his aura starts fritzing out, unable to even comprehend its own state.

“You fucking bitch.”

I let out a humorless laugh, stepping closer to him. “That’s rich coming from a guy that needs a leash to control his fucking attitude.”

“I–” Next thing I’m aware of is a strong hand encircling my throat as my back is shoved roughly against a wall. Nic’s heavy, uneven breathing tickles the skin on my chest as he struggles to contain himself. His grip on my neck is tight, but not restrictive, like a warning with a bite.

But I’m not even a little bit afraid.

In fact, I might be more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life. Arching my back to try and ease the tension, my breasts graze against Nic’s extremely hard chest and my skin tingles. He doesn’t move away and he doesn’t say a word. If anything, it almost seems like he presses in even closer.

It’s as if a spell has been cast and we’re both victims of its power, locked in a battle of wills and lust. Who will break first?

It won’t be me.

A throat clears behind Nic, but neither of us move. I feel Nic’s eyes boring a hole through my face, and I can do nothing but hold my head tilted up towards his towering form and refuse to bend.

“Uh, guys? Who farted?”

“W-what?” It shocks us both out of our staredown, causing Nic to jump away from me like his ass is on fire before stomping dramatically out of the room. “It wasn’t me!”

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