Free Flight from Hell by Yasmine Galenorn Page A

We can’t help Shimmer.” I leaned on the desk, then made a decision.
    Yanking off my jacket, I rolled up my sleeves. The scars that covered my body were intricate, carvings that had been painstakingly etched over almost every inch of me with an excruciatingly dull blade. “Trust me, I know what it’s like to fear showing your vulnerable side. I didn’t get these from a friend.”
    Alex stared at them for a moment. “Is he dead? The man who did this to you?” His eyes were stone cold, and so was his voice.
    â€œHe was my sire, and yes, he’s dust. I staked him.”
    â€œGood job.” He looked up at me. “You have a deal. I’ve told you everything I can remember, but if anything else comes to mind, you’ll be the first to know. And . . . just between us . . . Shimmer means a lot to me. More than I want to admit. More than it’s
safe
to admit, given my girlfriend’s nature.”
    â€œI thought so.” I flashed him a smile and put my jacket back on. “But Alex . . . your girlfriend. Break it off before it gets messy. Because I predict it might very well be headed that way.”
    He let out a hoarse laugh. “I wish it was that easy. But right now Shimmer hates my guts. And I don’t think she’s all that fond of me under normal circumstances. So, there’s really nothing to worry about, is there?”
    I said nothing, but inside, I was laughing.
Yeah, Alex, you think there’s nothing going on, but I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. You’ve got a thing for Shimmer, and you’ve got it bad.
    I hurried out to the car. As we pulled away from the curb, it occurred to me that all too often, one mess led right into another, and yet another after that. Praying this would be a simple fix, that Shimmer was just having a bad case of PMS or something, we headed for home to prepare. The storm broke, and rain lashed down sideways, stinging as it pelted against us. Yeah, back into the storm it was, and by the look of the clouds, this wasn’t going to be an easy one.
    ***
    As we trooped into the kitchen, I saw a sticky note slapped on the refrigerator with my name on it. The writing looked like chicken scratch but I recognized it immediately. My wife might be a knockout, but her penmanship was atrocious. It was a good thing she’d had to learn how to type for both her current job and her prior one.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Camille leaned over my shoulder. “Anything important?”
    I snorted. “Nerissa had to go out with Chase tonight—they have an official function. Some bigwig party with a city official. Black tie and all that. Hmm . . . she says she texted me.” I pulled out my phone to check. Sure enough, a picture had come through of the pair before they left. Hanna, our housekeeper, must have taken it for them.
    The photo was hot. Nerissa was tall, an Amazon in disguise, with boobs to die for and a sturdy but curvy build. She was also a werepuma and could rip your throat out if she was pissed off. She was standing beside our friend Chase—the detective in charge of the Faerie-Human Crime Scene Investigations Unit—and they made a striking couple.
    Nerissa’s long pale pink gown set off her tawny shoulder-length hair, which fell in waves. Chase was wearing a black tux and tie—expensive by the look of it. His dark hair was slicked back in a retro fifties look. His eyes glimmered, giving away the hint of emerging psychic powers that were bubbling to the surface. Mostly human, he had a smidgeon of elf in his lineage that we’d recently discovered. In the picture, he didn’t look a thing like the new, harried—and practically single—father he’d recently become.
    â€œNice.” I grinned at Delilah. “My wife and your ex. They make a gorgeous pair. Think they’ll hook up?” I was joking, of course. Nerissa