There could’ve been hurricane-force winds out there and not one hair on Baxter Clayton’s head would’ve moved.
Baxter was an investigative reporter for a local TV station and an all-round asshat. I didn’t envy Kylie her job right now. Actually, I’d never envied Kylie’s job. I was a horrible liar and even worse at hiding how I felt when around people I didn’t like, and Baxter Clayton definitely qualified.
Rake swore.
“What?”
“Baxter Clayton.”
“Yeah, I don’t like him, either. I don’t think anyone does. That’s probably why they keep him around. The guy everyone loves to hate. Hate equals high ratings.”
“He hasn’t been trying to get you on camera for a story on New York’s upper-class sex industry,” Rake muttered.
I bit back a snort.
“It’s not funny.”
Baxter Clayton was in earnest conversation with a professionally poised and smiling Kylie.
“It looks like Kylie’s taking one for the team then. You owe her.”
“Yes, Miss O’Hara will have my eternal gratitude if I can get out of here without being seen.”
Rake was ruffled. It was a rare sight, so I was going to enjoy it while it lasted. “You do a lot of ducking out back doors, don’t you?” I asked with a smile.
“Enough that I’ve become quite adept at it.”
With that, he scooped my hand off the table and brought it to his lips.
His voice softened. “And by the way, this lunch didn’t count. A maniac setting fire to the table next to ours doesn’t qualify as a successful date.”
“Define successful,” I managed.
The goblin gently turned my hand and placed a lingering kiss on the palm, sending a tingle of sensation to other places.
“No dinner,” I said, trying for firm and uncompromising—and probably failing miserably.
Rake’s eyes glittered. “Breakfast then?”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“Not anytime soon.”
“How about another lunch?” I suggested.
“How about tomorrow?”
“I’ll check and get back to you.”
“If you don’t, I will.”
Giving the back of my fingers a parting brush of his lips, Rake quickly escaped out the back door.
I snuck a glance over at Ian and Fred. Thankfully, my partner had his back to me.
Fred did not.
From the sly wink he just gave me, I’d say he saw Rake’s Cyrano de Bergerac exit. Then he gestured me over to join them.
Oh boy.
“I was just telling your partner what your knife-wielding businessman had likely snorted.”
“So it was a drug,” I said.
Fred nodded. “A new one. High-end designer.”
Ian glanced back at the now empty booth.
“Rake had to leave,” I told him before he could ask any questions that I’d completely blow answering.
Fred, bless him, didn’t say a word.
Kylie wasn’t the only one who’d taken one for the team. It looked like I might owe Fred one, too.
“I was telling Ian that from what I’ve heard about Brimstone, your boy was one of the latest customers.”
“Brimstone?”
Fred shrugged. “That’s what they’re calling it. It can be smoked or snorted. We haven’t gotten our hands on any yet for the lab to play with, and the latest customer didn’t have any more on him. One of our sources told us it’s lava colored. We’re assuming that’s the source of the name. And from the reactions of the three people who’ve taken it while in public . . .” Fred lowered his voice. “One of the side effects is that they can see supernaturals.”
“Through glamours,” I said, likewise keeping my voice down.
“Through anything.”
Glamours, shields, wards, and cloaks.
“Well, there goes my job security,” I said.
“Hardly,” Fred replied. “The humans who’ve gotten hold of the stuff freak out like you just saw.”
“How about supernaturals?” Ian asked.
“Unknown. We’ve had no reports of a supernatural under the influence of Brimstone. We didn’t find out about the stuff until a couple days ago. But if supernaturals were taking it, they wouldn’t exactly scream about seeing monsters.”
“How long do the effects last?” Ian asked.
“They start to come down after a couple of hours.” He paused. “Good part is that they don’t remember what they saw, just that it was the mother of all bad trips.”
“Great,” I said. “At least if they got the crap scared out of them, they won’t be lining up to buy more.”
“Wish people had that much sense,” Fred said. “When I heard we might have another customer, I wanted to get some fresh eyewitness accounts.” He grinned. “Imagine my surprise to find you two among the witnesses.”
“It wasn’t exactly how we intended our lunch hour to go,” I said.
“I got that impression.” His blue eyes twinkled.
Fred didn’t need to elaborate. Ian and Fred were beer and steak kinds of guys. Café Mina was hardly where either one would go—or could afford to go—to grab a quick bite for lunch. Fred simply eyed Ian’s sports jacket and tie, glanced out at Kylie, grinned, and gave my partner a congratulatory smack on the shoulder.