“That was a quick phone call,” Jessica said when he returned their dining room a moment later. “You want to explain what that was all about?”
“Nope,” he said, picking up his chair. “That’d be work talk, and we promised no more work talk tonight.” He picked up his fork and speared a dumpling. Honestly, he was glad, after this week of failures. He didn’t want Jessica to know his plan in case he failed again. Of course if he failed again the world would know because he would definitely be going up on an obstruction charge.
Or three.
“We do need to go,” he said, picking up his hat and putting away the battered cigarette lighter.
Jessica just looked at him in bewilderment for a long moment, then her playful, sexy smile came back. She set her napkin aside and stood up.
“All right,” she said. “Keep your secrets, but I’d better hear all about it on our date next week.”
Alex promised to tell her everything, and she nodded, then stood.
“I am a bit disappointed, though,” she said, fixing him with a challenging stare. “You’re cutting our meal short and all you can manage by way of apology was that quick peck on the lips? I should think you’d be more gentlemanly than that.”
Alex’s brain was firing on all cylinders now, but it still took him a long second to sort out what she’d said. Embarrassed at the lapse, he stepped up in front of her, lifted her chin with his finger, leaned slowly down and kissed her.
Everything he’d missed in that first brief kiss exploded through him. The touch of her lips was electric, and he felt her hands slide up his arms and over his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly against him.
After what seemed like an all too brief eternity, he let her go. As she stepped back, he wanted to say something, something witty or clever like the movie actors did, but nothing came to him. When she saw the struggle in his face, Jessica smiled.
“Did you smear my lipstick?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so,” he said, noting that it was now spread beyond the borders of her lips.
She reached up and patted him on the cheek.
“Good boy,” she said, her smile positively wicked. “Now where, exactly, are we going?”
She pulled a mirror out of her handbag and fixed her lipstick. Alex waited for her to finish, then offered her his arm and she took it.
“You are going home,” he said, leading her out into the dining room. When her brows furrowed angrily, he continued. “Have you forgotten your potions?”
Her face softened a bit, but she didn’t look happy.
“Iggy will meet us at the Central Office and escort you home.”
“You’re a real stinker,” she said.
“Save that for the cab,” he said. “We’re in a hurry and I, uh, I need to borrow the fare.”
The look she gave him was unamused.
“Iggy will pay you back as soon as he gets there,” Alex promised.
Jessica gave him a sardonic smile that told him she really wasn’t too angry.
“You’re one hell of an interesting date, Alex,” she said, bumping him affectionately with her shoulder. “I’ll give you that.”
“Don’t count me out yet,” he said, whistling for a cab. “You said you wanted to meet the Lightning Lord. Looks like you’re going to get your chance.”
27
The Prize
Hurry up and wait.
Alex looked around the cavernous room and felt like he was the only one who was anxious. Uniformed police officers sat on the floor, leaning against shelves and boxes, their hats down over their eyes. To a casual observer, it looked like they were sleeping.
Every now and then, scattered throughout their ranks was a detective in a suit, but they were just as relaxed. Most smoked quietly, the tips of their cigarettes glowing and fading in the semi-darkness.
To be fair, Alex supposed that part of a cop’s life was the hurry-up-and-wait game. Stakeouts and paperwork were exercises in patience.
Alex hated patience. That was one of the many benefits, in his opinion, of being a private detective runewright. He set his own hours and if he wanted to know where someone went, he could plant a tracking stone on them and link it to his map and a duplicate stone. Then all he had to do was sit in his comfortable chair, drink bourbon, and watch the map. Which, now that he thought about it was still waiting, but in much more pleasant surroundings and with a readily available bathroom.
Sitting in the dark and waiting simply wasn’t on his list of fun things. His mind kept drifting back to Jessica, to that fiery kiss that had smeared her lipstick so agreeably. Every time he smiled, however, the more cynical part of his brain reminded him of where he was, and more importantly, what was at stake.
“Lockerby,” Andrew Barton whispered from his left. The sorcerer lay in a hammock he had conjured out of thin air that hung, suspended in the aforementioned air. It swung gently by itself as Barton lay with his ankles crossed and his hand behind his head.
Most of the beat cops avoided looking at the sorcerer. Everyone knew sorcerers were temperamental and used to getting their own way. Nobody wanted to run afoul of one. As a result there were only three people crouched, hidden, behind the shelf that concealed the magical hammock.
“What is it?” Alex asked.
“I’m starting to revise my opinion of you,” he said.
Alex wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“Thanks?” he said quizzically. “What brought that on?”
“You seem to have a real eye for beauty,” Barton said. “Not to mention a way with the ladies. First, dear Sorsha, and now that luscious creature you had on your arm tonight. I’m starting to think you’ve made it your mission to involve yourself with all the beautiful women in the city.”
“This isn’t the time, gentlemen,” Captain Rooney growled from the semi-darkness.
Rooney’s presence was one of the things currently giving Alex heartburn. When the Captain had first heard Alex’s idea, he’d wanted to run Alex out of his office on a rail. The presence of Andrew Barton, the most prominent of the New York Six, however, made him a bit more cautious. Too cautious, as it turned out. With Barton endorsing Alex’s plan, Rooney wanted to come along.
It was a blatantly political move as far as the Captain was concerned. If Alex was right, he could take the credit, if Alex was wrong yet again, no one would blame the Captain for going along with a plan endorsed by the great and powerful Andrew Barton. For the Captain it was a no-lose proposition.
“Don’t worry, Captain,” Barton said, swinging easily in his hammock. “We aren’t likely to be taken by surprise.”
Rooney didn’t answer that, and Alex grinned. There were some advantages to having the Lightning Lord around, though Alex wondered how the sorcerer would take it if this all turned out to be for nothing.
It won’t be, he assured himself. Everything fit this time. He was right.
“What did you mean about Sorsha?” Alex asked. She’d made her feelings quite clear a year ago.
Barton chuckled.
“Some detective you are,” he said. “She’s still smitten with you. Won’t even give me the time of day.”
“As I recall, that was her position long before I met her,” Alex said.
“Alex,” Barton chided. “You wound me. Things with Sorsha were coming along just fine until you showed up and made her fall in love with you.”
Alex scoffed at that.
“Sorsha Kincaid is not the kind of woman who would sit up in her flying castle and wait for a man to come to her,” Alex said, keeping his voice low.
Barton sat up in his hammock.
“You’re right,” he said. “I doubt you rejected her, you’re too smart for that. So,” he said, turning to stare intently at Alex. “What is she waiting for?”