Jackson leaned against the lamp post and scratched his arm as he looked at the second-floor windows of Mahalia's old apartment. The lights hadn't gone off, but he hoped Mackenzie was getting some rest, anyway. She'd almost fallen asleep in the taxi back from her crappy motel, even though it was obvious she was fresh out of trust for strangers.
A handful of people walked past, almost knocking into him, and Jackson stepped back automatically, his mind on the woman upstairs. She'd been so skittish he hadn't wanted her to look out and see him on the street, so he'd thrown up a quick shield, something to shadow him from most people's sight. It was a trick Mahalia herself had taught him, back before she'd decided to retire to Boca Raton and make him learn all his magic the hard way, from dusty old books that tended to fall apart on him and make his eyes water.
There was no doubt in his mind Mackenzie was on the run from something, though he'd bet anyone a hundred bucks it was someone. An old boyfriend, perhaps, or a husband. Some overprotective, possessive a**hole, maybe even an abusive one. His fists clenched at the thought. Surely if she was a shapeshifter, as Nick had suggested, she could have taken care of such a situation. Or maybe the hypothetical guy was just as strong, or stronger. It made sense.
Except that she really had seemed clueless when he'd tossed out that line about people like them. That part didn't make so much sense. He resolved to ask Alec to take a look at Mackenzie. His partner was fifteen years older than Nick, and his shapeshifter instincts were more refined. He should be able to settle the question.
What wouldn't be so easy to settle was why Jackson could still remember the striking cobalt shade of her eyes, or the way she moved like the same gravity that affected everyone else couldn't quite reach her.
He scratched his head and huffed in disgust. He was standing under a streetlight, waxing poetic about the shade of a stranger's eyes. Add a show tune or two, and his already bizarre life was headed straight for the theatre of the absurd.
Chapter Three
Jackson growled and balanced a coffee tray and a paper bag in one hand as he tugged open the office door. "Morning," he said dourly as he walked in and dropped the bag on the small table that held the cold, empty coffee maker. "I stopped by Café du Monde on the way in and bought beignets."
The young woman behind the receptionist's desk looked him over before raising an eyebrow. "I thought Alec was the one staking out crazy husband dude. Did something go down last night that you both needed to handle?"
"No, Katherine." He placed a coffee cup on her desk and laid the tray on his own. "I was working on something else."
"What were you—" Her words cut off as the door opened again and Jackson's partner shoved through it, looking even less cheerful than Jackson felt.
Alec also held a coffee tray and paper bag, which he raised as the door swung shut. "I stopped by Café du Monde and got…" His gaze fell on the bag beside the coffee maker and jumped to Jackson. "Shit, what the hell happened to you?"
"He was working on something else," Kat supplied helpfully, an amused glint in her light blue eyes. The look she flashed Jackson was downright mischievous. "So Alec doesn't know about this mysterious other job?"
Jackson dropped into his leather chair, his elbows hitting the desk as he rubbed his eyes. "I was doing Nick Peyton a favor. Well, not exactly. She's cutting our bar tab in half as payment."
"In half? Must have been quite a favor." Alec dumped a second cup of coffee on Kat's desk and sank into his own chair with an inhuman grace Jackson found particularly offensive, considering the fact that Alec had not only also been up all night, but had more than ten years on him to begin with.
"Mmm. She hired someone new, but the woman's been acting kind of squirrelly, so Nick wanted me to make sure she had a decent place to stay. Turned out, she had a room in some condemned roach motel upriver."
"Where's she staying now?"
Jackson hesitated. Alec had been his partner for five years, and the man was bound to take his next revelation the wrong way. "I took her back to Mahalia's and let her into the apartment upstairs."
Alec's eyebrows rose, but it was Kat who spoke. "And since Café du Monde was on your way into work, that must mean you stayed there." There was far too much amusement in her voice.
"Yeah, I stayed there," he replied irritably. "Outside, in the company of my favorite streetlamp, which is why I look like sun-dried crap, and not like some guy who got lucky last night. So shut up already."
"Did you figure out why she's so squirrelly?" Alec shot Kat a quelling look Jackson probably wasn't supposed to see.
"Nope. I've got a good idea, though." Jackson flipped through his address cards and picked up the phone.
Alec took another sip of his coffee. "Gonna share?"
"Uh-uh."
Blissful silence filled the office for a full five seconds before Alec snorted in exasperation. "Jesus. You've got the hots for her, don't you?"
Jackson shot him an exasperated look of his own and put down the phone. "Not everything in my life is about sex, Jacobson. I just figure it's none of your damn business, that's all."
"If you're doing a job, it's my business. You were supposed to be sleeping last night so one of us would be ready to deal with the fallout on the Smith case this morning. Now your personal business is screwing up my professional business."
"Is there fallout to deal with?"
Alec pulled a slim camera from his jacket pocket and held it up. "As soon as Kat pulls the pictures off of here, you can see how much. The man's not subtle. I'm not surprised his wife figured out exactly what he was up to."
Jackson was glad he'd already called Nick to update her on Mackenzie's status and whereabouts. "Let me guess. Cocktail waitress? Exotic dancer?"
"Secretary. It's always the secretary." Alec turned his dark gaze on Kat and flashed her a wicked smile. "Why is that, Kat?"
Jackson watched in amusement as Kat snatched the camera from Alec's hand with a dangerous look. "Don't ask me. I wouldn't get mixed up with you if you paid me. Oh wait, you do." She handled the camera with speed and familiarity, her fingers flying over the buttons. She plugged a cord from her computer into the side of the camera and pulled her keyboard toward her. "Now, Jackson, on the other hand… I'd get mixed up with him for sure. Especially if he made me Italian food."
Alec scowled. "You are too popular with the ladies for your own damn good, Holt."
"Don't I know it." He thought about Mackenzie and how she hadn't seemed the slightest bit interested in him. "Then again, maybe not."
Alec looked like he was going to say something, but Kat let out a sudden choked noise and pushed her chair back from her desk. "Holy crap, Alec. I'm never giving you the camera with the good zoom lens again."
The pictures on her computer were gritty and explicit enough to leave no doubt about their client's husband's extramarital activities. His lurid affair with his secretary was splashed over Kat's flat-screen monitor. In detail. Maybe too much detail.
Alec laughed. "Didn't have to zoom much. They were right next to the window, and I can move pretty quietly when I want to."
Jackson leaned over Kat's shoulder. "Looks like our society matron could have been absolutely right to be concerned about that huge life-insurance policy." He whistled and accidentally nudged Kat's purse aside, revealing a copy of the Delta Examiner, a regional tabloid newspaper. "Oh, Kat. Alec, look what Kat's reading."
She tried to snatch away the tabloid, but Alec's shapeshifter reflexes made him impossibly fast, even when he was exhausted. He grabbed the paper and frowned. "Oh, hell. You'd better have a good excuse for this, Katherine Gabriel, or I may fire your ass."
"It's funny," she retorted, her cheeks bright red. "I like reading the stories about the so-called supernatural conspiracy. This one has an article about a secret cabal of psychics who control the government." She sniffed. "No one invited me to join."
Jackson laughed. "Maybe they don't need any soft-hearted empaths." He looked at the paper over Alec's shoulder. "Yep, there's your nemesis. C.E. Miller, the great paranormal whistle-blower."
Alec's scowl deepened as he flipped open the tabloid to the page listed and skimmed the article. "It's not funny. We survive by flying beneath the radar. Whoever this clown is, he's f**king shit up for everyone. Every damn week he manages to latch on to the latest gossip in the supernatural world and spew it over the pages of this rag. He has to be one of us, or he wouldn't always know what's going on."
"Right." Jackson walked over to the table and opened a bag of beignets. "'Cause everyone believes that stuff. Especially the thing about that secret cabal of psychics." He took a bite of the fried dough, careful not to inhale any powdered sugar. "Someone get this guy a Pulitzer, already."
Looking disgusted, Alec tossed the paper back on Kat's desk. "Some day, when I've got some free time, I'm going to track that man down and have words with him. If he just wants money, he could write the same UFO and Bigfoot shit as everyone else. He doesn't have to publish stuff that's real."
Jackson brought Kat a beignet on a napkin. "Suppose you're right, Alec, and he's one of us. He could belong to one of the factions that wants exposure, even if it's dangerous."
"All the more reason for me to track him down," Alec said darkly. He sank into his chair with a glance at Jackson. "Is this job we're doing for Nick going to keep you busy today? I can go talk to the husband, but I'll need to bring Kat with me to work her mojo."
Jackson almost told him that, technically, he was finished with his favor for Nick. "Actually, yeah. I'm going to check some things out. Why don't you give me a call when you're done with the husband? I need you and Kat to take a gander at Nick's new employee, if that's all right."