“I’m investigating a murder that occurred here two days ago. That’s why I said it wasn’t safe for you to walk alone at night.”
He watched her face as her mind processed his words. She glanced at his badge, but seemed to be more interested in discerning the truth from his eyes. The tension she held in her muscles relaxed and he felt his own tension begin to drain away.
“Who are you?” he asked, still incredulous that she’d almost beaten him at hand to hand combat. She was a skilled fighter, and quite possibly the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. It was a dangerous combination.
“My name is Scarlett Thresher,” she answered softly.
Desire shot through his groin at the intense way she held his stare as the musical cadence of her Irish brogue washed over him.
She retreated another step and shook her head, silky strands of hair caressing her cheek where they’d escaped from their array of pins. “I’m sorry. I have to go,” she murmured, looking as bewildered as he felt.
She bent to grab her shoes, then turned and fled back up the sidewalk, slipping away into the darkness before he could formulate a protest.
Grey sat back on his haunches in the grass, stunned. A shimmer of light caught his eye, and he reached down to pick up an earring with a large teardrop diamond glistening in a gold setting. He’d seen its mate resting against the delicate earlobe of the amazing woman he’d just let get away.
He stuck it in his pocket, wincing at the twinge in his ribs. She’d kicked his ass and then bolted without so much as an explanation. He wasn’t sure whether to feel impressed, offended…or turned on.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Scarlett ran, her legs pumping faster and faster, her mind a haze of confusion. She faltered to a stop when she found herself back at the docks by the wedding reception.
Agent Greyson Derrington of the FBI, her brain whispered as she made her way over the wooden planks and past the row of tiki torches. He’d said he was investigating a murder, so he must be part of the human police force.
She puffed at the loose hair on her cheek as she pushed open the door to the building. A cool blast of air hit her, drying the perspiration on her forehead. Scarlett grimaced as she realized what a mess she must look with her sweaty face, torn dress and bare feet.
She sprinted for the washrooms, avoiding the gazes of the other guests, and hurried through the door with the crepe-paper bride taped to it. She locked herself in the largest stall with the sink and steadied her hands on the basin as she tried to calm down.
She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She never should have engaged the man. She should have turned and walked away. But she’d been upset and itching for a fight.
And what a fighter he was. She was almost disappointed that he’d surrendered before she found out if she could beat him. How insane was that?
He’d defended himself against her attacks, yet he lacked the arrogance of many fighters who could claim his skill. He’d attempted to subdue her, but none of his moves had been designed to truly hurt her. And there was something in his eyes that made her want to trust him, despite the fact that he was human.
That had to be the most insane part of all.
And it wasn’t the only disturbing thing about their encounter. There were also the herbs she’d smelled on him. If Agent Greyson Derrington of the FBI had picked up the scent of her people’s most potent sleeping potion from his crime scene, in all probability, his criminal wasn’t human.
She couldn’t allow herself to keep that knowledge a secret. Not if it could help catch a murderer.
She cursed and gave the tap a hard twist, yanking some paper towels from the dispenser so she could wipe the dirt from her face. The careful design that the human hairdresser had taken so much time creating was wrecked.
She began pulling out the remaining hairpins, and groaned as the mirror revealed her bare earlobe. Damn it. She’d lost one of the special dwarven-made diamond earrings that her father had given her for her birthday.
“Scarlett?” her mother’s voice called from outside the stall.
She groaned again. “Yes, Ma,” she replied, trying to sound composed.
“Are you alright? Paddy said you weren’t feeling well.” Marjorie Thresher’s tone was concerned, but there was a strain of exasperation in it. It wasn’t much of a leap for her mother to assume that Scarlett was hiding in the washroom to avoid mingling with the human guests.
Scarlett hesitated. One look at her dress told her that she needed to avoid opening the stall door at all costs. Nothing but faerie dust was going to fix the torn and stained cloth, and she didn’t have any with her.
“Not really, Ma. I think I had a bad oyster from the raw bar,” she improvised. “I’ve been in here wondering if I’m going to be sick.”
Marjorie paused and Scarlett felt her disbelief thick in the air.
“Paddy said you were going for a walk.”
Scarlett dropped her head back and exhaled. “I thought the fresh air might make me feel better,” she answered truthfully.
There was another moment of silence, as if Marjorie was torn between wanting to comfort her daughter, and not truly believing she was ill.
“Do you want me to come in there?” she asked finally. “I may have a soothing potion in my purse…”
“No,” Scarlett replied quickly, and then added, “Thanks, Ma. I’d really just like to blink home and go to bed, if you and Da don’t mind.”
Marjorie sighed. “It’s not your Da and me you should be asking. It’s your brother’s wedding you’ll be leaving early.”
Scarlett swallowed a lump of guilt. But Doyle probably hadn’t expected her to stay as long as she had. He was well aware of how she felt about humans.
“Please tell Doyle and Violet that I’m sorry,” she said softly.
Her mother hesitated, as if she wanted to say more, but then she sighed again and left Scarlett alone in the bathroom.
Scarlett released a breath and thanked the goddess that she hadn’t had to explain to her mother how she’d ruined her bridesmaid’s dress. She loved Ma, but no matter how old Scarlett was, Ma could still make her feel like a disobedient child.
She thought about retracing her steps to look for her earring, but decided against it. She didn’t want anyone to see her in such a disheveled state. And she’d had more than enough of the human realm for one day.
Not to mention she’d probably lost it during the fight, and Agent Derrington might still be hanging around his crime scene. The thought of seeing him again made her belly do a weird little flip.
She told herself that her stomach was reacting to her lie about eating bad oysters, and put him from her mind as she gratefully blinked home to the faerie realm.
But later that night, as she tossed in restless sleep, a hard bodied fighter with smooth,
