I crossed my arms. “What you do mean, ‘huh’?”
He shrugged and turned back to the doorknob, holding his wand just above it. “It’s just—you seem so tough and unflappable.” The grin he’d been holding back spread across his face. “Turns out all it takes is a rickety old building and you’re quaking.”
My jaw dropped. “I’m not quaking.”
Little zaps of light flashed at the end of Peter’s wand and struck the doorknob. I frowned. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t look up. “Picking the lock.”
I hiked my brows. “Uh… illegal search and seizure? Any evidence we find inside can’t be used in court unless—”
He grinned as he continued to work. “—unless I already got a warrant to search any of the victim’s personal effects or properties. I made sure to include that when I got permission to search her apartment.”
“Oh.” I closed my mouth and watched him in silence. Daisy’s tail swished over the ratty, stained carpet. “That was—smart of you.”
He glanced over and winked. “I’ve been on the force long enough to learn a thing or two.”
I glanced longingly once more at the stairs behind me, then moved closer and leaned my back against the peeling wallpaper beside the door.
“Why, if Bim had this studio, would she ask Amelie LeBec to meet her at Turk’s office?” I folded my arms across my chest. “I bet those photos of the office you had developed off her camera were her testing different lenses and filters.”
Peter nodded as he worried his lip. “I think you’re right. And that’s a good question.” He grunted as another flash of light zipped from his wand to the doorknob. “This thing’s really spelled tight.”
I spun to face Peter, who dropped into a crouch in front of the knob and peered through the keyhole. “And why is this place so quiet?”
Footsteps sounded behind me, and we all froze. I glanced over my shoulder as a dark head of hair appeared in the stairwell. “Who’s up here?” a deep voice called.
I glanced down at Peter, who extinguished the light at the end of his wand. Only a few flickering lanterns lit the dark hall.
A guy with broad shoulders finished tromping up the stairs and headed down the hallway toward us. He lifted a hand to his face, which was obscured in the shadows. “That you, Bim? Come crawling back, huh?” He scoffed. “I knew you were bluffing.”
We had some kind of misunderstanding going here. “Uh—I’m not B—”
Peter grabbed my wrist and flashed his eyes at me. He still crouched in front of me, both he and Daisy blocked from this guy’s view.
I closed my mouth, eyes locked on Peter’s, and gulped. He clearly wanted me to let this guy think I was Bim, but it was hard for me to stand there, my back to some strange guy in this creepy place, putting all my trust in a cop, of all people. I took a shaky breath, then gave Peter a slight nod. I’d play along.
The footsteps grew louder. “Relax, okay? I took care of it. They’re all dead.”
Peter and I exchanged wide-eyed looks. Who was all dead? Did he really think Bim was still alive?
“Bim! Hey, Bim?”
The voice sounded right behind me; he couldn’t be more than ten feet away. My breath came in short gasps.
Peter rose to his feet, and Daisy let out a low growl. I spun around.
The guy was only a couple inches taller than me, but had muscles on muscles… and tattoos on top of those muscles. Two diamond studs in his ears twinkled in the pale, flickering light. His dark eyes grew round as he took us all in.
“What the sh— You’re not Bim— Who’s—” His eyes landed on the badge at Peter’s chest, and he whirled and booked it down the hall, arms pumping, toward the stairs.
“Daisy!” Peter cried.
The dog sprang forward, barking, and in a few bounding leaps caught up with and tackled the man to the ground. She stood, paws on his back, bared teeth at the back of his neck, growling.
I pressed my lips tight together as Peter strode past me and stood over the whimpering man. I gulped, my throat suddenly parched. Maybe I should tone it down and stop picking on Daisy.
I watched them a moment longer before walking down the hall to join them. Nah.
24
JAKE THE SNAKE
“Why’d you run?” Peter hauled the man to his feet by the collar of his skintight button-up.
“Uh.” The guy’s thick brows lifted as he looked from me back to Peter. “’Cause you’re a cop?”
I scoffed at Peter. “Dur.” I mean, that was practically the first lesson you learned growing up in the Darkmoon District.
The guy dusted himself off as he edged further away from Daisy, who watched him with laser focus. “It’s not generally a good sign.”
Peter narrowed his eyes as he towered over the man. “Who are you?”
He lifted his chin with its perfectly sculpted beard. “Jake.” He looked me up and down, laying on the smarm. “Jake the Snake to the ladies.”
My eyes widened. “Does that work for you?”
I glanced down at myself, from my worn boots to my stained shirt. And really? Me? Maybe the dim light and knock to the ground had done some brain damage. Or maybe he just couldn’t help himself—anything with legs got the “Jake the Snake” treatment.
Peter’s brow furrowed at Jake, who stared me down and nibbled his full bottom lip. “What are you doing here?”
Jake folded his bulging, tattooed arms across his buff chest. “I’m the landlord.” He waggled his brows at me. “What you doin’ here? Getting some photos taken?” He sucked in a breath over his teeth, his eyes on my butt. “This like a before-and-after thing?”
My face fell flat, but my blood boiled. I gritted my teeth and balled my hands into fists. “Keep it up, and your face will be a before-and-after thing.” Not my best, but when a brow arched and he leaned back, I realized
