Rafe ran toward Moira as she flew across the alley and hit the brick wall. Intense rage and deep-seated fear filled his mind even as his instincts had him scanning the area for threats. Moira tried to rise, then collapsed. She wasn’t moving by the time he’d reached her side.
Rafe glanced at the wall where Moira had been staring. There was nothing there. He’d known something was wrong, but she’d made it perfectly clear she needed space to concentrate, and his presence distracted her. If he had gotten there sooner, she wouldn’t have been hurt.
Rico’s warning came unbidden, and Rafe scowled, pushing the thought from his mind. But Rico had planted the seed, and now Rafe feared his former trainer was right.
He knelt next to Moira and checked her pulse. Strong. Rapid, but steady. Thank God. She was unconscious, though, and that worried him. “Moira? It’s Rafe.” Her face had a nasty scrape from where she’d fallen, and there was a bump on the back of her head. He pulled his hand from her hair and came away with a smear of blood, but there didn’t appear to be a deep cut.
Dammit, he shouldn’t have let her go down the alley alone!
Her knife had fallen out of her grip. He heard something behind him and quickly pocketed the dagger inside his jacket.
“Slowly move away from the body,” commanded a deep voice behind Rafe. “This is the police; keep your hands where I can see them.”
He hesitated. Moira’s gun was partly visible.
“Now!” the cop shouted.
His back to the police officer, Rafe gently placed Moira’s head on the ground, and while doing so shifted her jacket so that her gun wasn’t visible. He couldn’t take the chance that the cop would see him remove it from her holster. Slowly, he stood up and turned to face the cop, who had his gun drawn and aimed at Rafe.
Rafe said, “She needs help.”
“Step away from the body.”
“I’m not leaving her lying in this filthy alley!”
“Step away from the body,” the cop repeated as he walked briskly down the alley, his eyes never leaving Rafe. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
Rafe did what the cop demanded. The cop knelt to check Moira’s pulse, his gun still on Rafe.
“What happened?” the cop said.
The alley door across from Rafe opened-it was the employee entrance to the nightclub. A muscular black guy walked out. “Trouble, Detective?”
“Call an ambulance, Reggie. How long has she been out?”
Rafe said, “Two or three minutes.” He started toward Moira and the cop said, “Stand back. Do you have identification?”
Rafe began to retrieve his wallet and the cop shook his head. “Back right pocket,” Rafe said.
“Turn around, put your hands on the wall.”
Rafe complied. The cop pulled out his wallet. “You can turn around, but keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Name’s Raphael Cooper. I live in Santa Louisa.”
The cop’s head shot up, his eyes narrowed. “Santa Louisa?”
Moira moaned and tried to get up. Rafe stepped toward her, and the cop put a hand on his chest. “Hold it, Cooper.”
The detective looked again at Moira. “Moira O’Donnell,” he said as he recognized her. “From the morgue.” He shook his head. “Well, fuck me. I told Sheriff McPherson to stay the hell out of my case.”
It would have to be Detective Grant Nelson, the lead cop in the deaths they were investigating.
“Skye didn’t know we were here,” Rafe said.
“I don’t buy that for one minute.”
Moira got up on all fours. “Please,” she said, “no ambulance.” She spit out saliva tinged with blood.
“Moira,” Rafe said, “don’t move.”
“I’m fine,” she mumbled.
Nelson helped Moira sit up and lean against the wall. It was obvious to Rafe he’d spotted her gun as his stance changed from helpful to suspicious.
“Tell me what happened,” he demanded of Moira, watching both her and Rafe closely.
She took a deep breath, glanced at Rafe, then proceeded to lie smoothly. “I was walking down the alley and someone pushed me against the wall. I must have banged my head harder than I thought, because I went out.”
“Who pushed you?”
“I don’t know.”
“They? How many?”
“Three boys. Older boys, in their teens.”
“They just ran through the alley and pushed you down.”
“They were huddled together. I think I surprised them.”
“Know what they look like?”
She shook her head.
“White? Black? Purple?”
She glared at him. “White. Skinny and dressed like kids-jeans and T-shirts. It happened fast. My head hurts.”
“An ambulance is on its way.”
“I’m fine.”
“You should be checked out.”
“I said I am fine.”
“Why were you here in the first place?”
“Is it a private alley?”
Rafe saw that Nelson was getting irritated with Moira’s answers, so he said, “Detective, we just wanted to see the club where the kid died.”
“You’re not a cop. Your friend the sheriff doesn’t have jurisdiction. You’re interfering with a police investigation and I swear, I’m this close to taking you both to jail.”
Moira paled, and Rafe wasn’t going to let anyone imprison Moira again. He said, “We’ll go, Detective. Sorry to have caused a problem; we didn’t mean to interfere.”
“Nelson,” Reggie said, “the girl doesn’t look too good.”
The detective lost some of his hard edge. “Let’s get her inside.” He glanced at Rafe. “You want to help me?”
Rafe wrapped one arm around Moira, Nelson did the same on the other side, and they helped her to her feet.
“I can walk,” she insisted, though she leaned heavily on Rafe. Her eyes were half closed and Rafe noticed she was trying to shake off the dizziness.
Reggie opened the employee door. “This is the break room. You can sit in here a minute.”
Rafe said, “Let’s get you some water.”
“Cancel the ambulance. Please.”
“No,” Nelson said.
“Please,” she said again, in her
“It’s against my better judgment,” Nelson said, then nodded to Reggie, who was back on his cell phone, shaking his head.
As soon as Moira stepped through the doorway into the break room, she felt magic. It wasn’t strong, but there was enough here to have her skin tingling. She wasn’t consciously searching for it; the wave hit her unexpectedly, and she shivered.
“What is it?” Rafe whispered.
