The Death Dealer

“Of the—the Ravens.”

He looked at her quizzically. “On Saturday night? Date night?” His tone was mocking; he was stalling her, he knew. “Must be a wild bunch,” he said.

“Joe, we’re going.”

“No.”

“Joe, you promised last night that—”

He lifted a hand. Damn, she was persistent.

“I said I’d take the case,” he told her. “And I’ll go to the meeting. But you aren’t going.”

“Of course I am!” she said indignantly.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Genevieve—”

“My mother is going to be there, Joe. There’s no way I’m not going to be there, too.”

He fell silent. What the hell was the matter with these people? If they all believed that Thorne Bigelow had been killed because he was a Raven, wouldn’t anyone sane think that perhaps they shouldn’t meet until the killer had been apprehended?

“It’s just stupid for them to be meeting,” he snapped.

“Stupid or not, it’s happening,” Genevieve said. “Besides, you’re the one who said that the whole Poe thing is a smoke screen.”

“I said it could be a smoke screen.”

“That…woman said that another Raven would be dead in a matter of days.”

“Gen…” He winced, lowering his head. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling the temple-pounding headache of a killer hangover, or a sense of mixed anger and dread. Gen was surely the most stubborn human being he’d ever met. She was like pit bull on behalf of the underdog or any cause she believed in. She rushed in where the sane wouldn’t go.

But he wasn’t angry with her, only upset that people liked to play so casually with the fears of others by claiming to know the future.

He lifted his chin, eyes on fire, and pointed a finger at her. “I said I’d take the case, and I will. But you’ll listen to me.”

“I always listen to you, Joe,” she said softly. That unnerved him.

Oh, yeah, she listened, in a perfect case of point noted—and rejected.

“Joe, honestly, I have to go tonight.”

“And you think the Ravens are just going to discuss some favorite masterpiece by Poe?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll talk about the murder.”

“We’re not members. Are you sure they’ll let us in?”

“Members are always free to bring guests. It’s simply a matter of paying for their meals. And can you imagine anyone trying to tell my mother that she’s not welcome to bring her daughter and a friend?”

Gen had a point. Eileen had the power to open a lot of doors.

He stood up. The world didn’t rock. A shower would fix him, he decided.

“All right, I’m going home, but I’ll be back in time to go to the meeting with you. And you’ll stay here until I come back for you.”

“Joe…” She said his name in a soft whisper, accompanied by a weary sigh. “I am not a hothouse flower. I’ve been taking care of myself in the city for some time now. I do not intend to stay cooped up in my apartment all day.”

He arched a brow. “It’s a really nice apartment.”

She flushed. It was a nice apartment. She lived here because of Eileen; the building was supposed to have the best security system in the city.

“Joe—”

“Give it a rest, Gen. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Depending on traffic,” he added dryly, wondering how long it would take to reclaim his car at the impound lot.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. If we’re going to this meeting, let’s do a little Poe research first, huh?”

She stared back at him, a slow smile curving her lips, a light entering her eyes.

Damn, she was a beautiful woman.

“Oh, Joe, that’s great!”

She leapt up and threw her arms around him. Her scent was intoxicating, and the feel of her warm body as she crushed herself against him was like a taste of heaven.

He unwound her arms and stepped back. “You, uh, you stay here till I get back, promise?”

She looked at him with a frown.

“Just this morning, Gen, please? Until I get a handle on this.”

“I’m not a Raven. It’s my mom we’re worried about, remember?”

“Gen?”

“Yes, fine.”

He started out.

“Joe? You don’t have your car,” she reminded him. “You can take mine. It’s in the garage.”

He was certain that the garage fee in this building was probably more than most Americans paid for an apartment. But he couldn’t take her car. It was time to rescue his own.