Samhain Publishing

Craigen stood in the doorway, tucked his shades in the vee of his shirt and watched as she schooled her features.

So controlled was Ms. Reya Lynx, owner of Horizons Gallery.

She licked her full lips and he ran his gaze over her. No one had changed more, and yet changed less than Reya. She still favored long flowing lines of clothes, and they worked well on her willowy frame. Today she wore a dark blue sleeveless tunic pants suit that easily showcased the muscles of her arms. A long pendant hung down and glinted in the sunlight. The stone was dark and familiar.

He grinned as he stared at it, watched her fist it in her hand before he let his gaze run back up to meet her eyes and let her know he remembered exactly where she’d gotten the stone.

Her eyes narrowed.

Apparently, she remembered as well.

Always a contrary woman.

He chuckled. “Been awhile.”

“I’ve been here three years.” Her eyes flickered just a tad, as if she wished she hadn’t said that.

“So you have.” Each had steered the hell away from the other.

He frowned when he realized he was actually, on some level, happy to see the woman. The energy that always followed her—followed them—flowed around the room and over his skin. He took a deep breath and smelled the shampoo he knew she still made herself using rosemary, flowers and a hint of citrus. Some light-as-air perfume that was new. Yet under both was the smell that would always and forever be Reya to him. No other woman, or being, was like her. It was a smell as sultry as the night and just as elusive as moonlight.

Her stubborn jaw jutted out and he knew the frown between her brows would be next. That one there that caused a slight crinkle in the bridge of her nose.

Damn, but he’d missed her.

“Charles Carpenter, please meet an old…friend, Lorenzo Craigen.” Her voice could still melt the ice off the Sangre de Cristos or charm a single flake from the fallen snow. It was silky smooth, yet just a bit throaty.

His gut tightened and he took another deep breath.

She grinned, glanced down, then back up to meet his eyes. He didn’t miss the challenge in the pale depths of hers—a color somewhere between smoke and sky.

An image of what they had looked like clouded with passion jolted through his brain, and he slammed the door shut on that one.

He turned to the man she’d introduced him to. Charles Carpenter. He knew Carpenter. The man had owned the shop when it was Deep Cave Galleries. Hell, all Taos needed was another gallery. The streets were lined with the damn things. Art—or in his opinion, what was supposed to pass as art—sculpture, paintings, clothing, crafts—was often disguised junk. Whatever. Once the art was stuck in a place and the locals slapped a gallery sign in the front window… Ta-da. And it worked. More tourists stopped in and would pay some god-awful, hocked-up price for merchandise in a gallery.

His gaze roamed around this shop and he had to admit it actually had an artistic feel to it. Horizons was known for its handcrafted and one-of-a-kind jewelry pieces that the people with too much money and time didn’t bat at eye at buying.

Chunks of crystals and rocks glittered in display cases along with bracelets, necklaces, pendants, rings… The shimmering went on, contrasting against the dark velvet backdrops. Or in one case, sand. Black sand created a bed for the hammered bronze jewelry. Bracelets? No, arm bands and maybe a torc, pendant and rings.

Craigen cleared his throat and looked back at the former owner of the shop and gave the man a bare nod.

He caught the slight rueful look Charles tossed to Reya before the man said, “I’ll be in the back with Mica.” He patted her shoulder as he walked by.

The movement didn’t really bother Craigen. Not really. They weren’t together. He’d know if they were. Yet he’d learned long ago, that other part of him could not stand another touching her. He shook his head. What the hell was wrong with him? Liking it or not, what was, simply was. Hell and damnation.

When they were alone again, Craigen shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nice place you have here.”

Reya shrugged one elegant shoulder and turned her back to him, reaching into the solitary display case with black sand and rearranging the ornaments inside.

“It’s good to see you.”

Her eyes rose to his, her gaze tumultuous beneath her lashes. He could all but see the anger swirling tighter and tighter around her. But then, like elusive smoke, it streamed away.

He grinned. “You’ve gotten even better.”

Her incredible eyes narrowed at the edges. “Some of us always had control of our urges.”

Definitely still angry.

To defend or deflect? Neither. Ignorance. His boots clicked across the hardwood floor and he laid a picture of a bracelet before her. “Seen this?”

She dropped her gaze from his to pull the photo across the glass surface towards her. A frown settled over her features.

“Wolf Moon.” She looked back up at him. “We sold the first several so quickly, and the demand was in, that it is one of the few things we keep in stock. Thankfully, the artist is agreeable to that venue versus a one-time creation like most of the pieces we feature here.”

Craigen leaned over the display case and trapped her gaze with his. “Would the artist have a name?”

“That’s confidential unless the artist deems otherwise, and this one hasn’t,” she said softly.

His gaze dropped to her lips. “Maybe not, but I know you could persuade them to help us out. Especially since we’re dealing with murder.”

One brow arched. “Isn’t that your job?” She tilted her head and studied him. “What’s this all about?”

“Murder.”

“Yes, you’ve already mentioned that, but what has this one to do with me? There have been others before this. Why are you here?”

Reya was never easy. “The girl was wearing a bracelet, as you notice, that you carry. Her roommate works for you. Seems here would be a good place to start.”

“True. So what is the poor girl’s name?”

“Tanna Barvendez. Heard of her?”

She studied the picture, reached out, traced the bracelet with her nail. “No. Not until this morning. Mica called hysterical and I rushed over and learned her roommate had been killed. You sure this is her?”

He grabbed the photo up and tucked it into his breast pocket. “She here?”

“Mica? Yeah.” Reya nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, motioning to the doorway behind the counter. “She’s in back. She mentioned the police might want to talk to her again.”

He shifted his gaze to the doorway. “We didn’t get a lot out of her this morning.”

Her hand skimmed across his. Just the barest of touches, a glance of her skin on his skin, but it felt like a sucker punch to his system. She quickly drew her hand away.

To hell with this. “Reya, we need to talk. It’s important.”

“Isn’t it always with you?” She tilted her head at that angle that told him more than anything she wasn’t in the best of moods. She might as well be twitching her tail. “Why is it that we only ever seem to talk on your terms?”

That loaded gun was not one he was picking up today. Later, yes. Firing it, without a doubt. For now… He narrowed his eyes and watched her. Best way, just rip the band-aid off.

Staring straight into her eyes, he took a deep breath and said. “This was Sael’s work.”

She paled and swayed slightly.

“I won’t let him come near you.” Craigen reached out and grabbed her hand. “I won’t.”

She shook her head, her breathing shallow. Dark shadows danced in her eyes, widening the pupils. Memories etched pain across her face.

“Reya,” he snapped. “Reya!”

She swallowed, licked her lips and then cleared her throat. “Y-you’re wrong. You have to be. Sael… You—” She shook her head. “No.”

“I hope I am mistaken.”

Her eyes rose back to his, and at any other time he might have been amused at the fact she was trying to hide her fear from him.

“He won’t hurt you.” He tightened his hold on her hand. “I swear it.”

A slight tremor ran through her.

“Sael?” She shook her head. “It can’t be. He’s dead. You know he’s dead.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Why would you say otherwise?”

“Reya, look at me.” He tightened his hold on her hand until she complied. “Did I let you down before?”

She blinked. “With Sael?”

He bit down. “Yes, with Sael.”

“No, no, you didn’t let me down with that.”

Craigen took a deep breath. “We’ve both made mistakes.”

And they had, both proud, both hurt, both refusing to budge.

She swallowed and waved her other hand. “I know. I know. Hubris can be a bitch. Sorry. I know I can be petty.”

“And selfish, but you’re still the prettiest, most intriguing damn woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and he wanted it to reach her eyes.

“At least I’m not arrogant, rude and a dozen other things.” She linked her fingers with his.

“Reya, we have to talk.”

This time instead of arguing with him, she nodded.

Relief loosened the muscles in his neck. “Good. First, I need to talk to Mica for a bit. I’ve several calls to make, leads to track down and then maybe this evening we can get together. How about tonight?”

Again she only nodded.

“I’ll be in the back talking to Mica if you need me.” He turned, heading to the doorway she’d pointed to earlier. “Be careful.”

Craigen was almost at the doorway when he heard her.

“He swore. Do you remember, Lo? Sael swore we’d both pay. We’d always pay.” She rubbed her arms. “I can still see his eyes, all golden, hating me…” She trailed off, still rubbing her arms.

He took a deep breath. It had been a long time since she’d called him Lo. That more than anything told him how rattled she really was, even if he could see she was still too pale, her eyes too shadowed. He regretted that this—murder, Sael—was what bought him into her gallery today. Damn it. He’d given her space because of pride, then anger, then because he knew space was what she wanted. He’d wanted and dreamed of her for months. Hell, who was he kidding? Even pissed he’d wanted her like he’d never wanted another. He’d should’ve come in months ago—years, hell decades, ago and seduced her back to his side. Seduced her back under him. Either would have worked and been better than the months and years he’d spent alone.

Instead, here he was with the past between them, bringing dark memories, troubles and blood to her door.

He turned back, knowing that if he saw Sael now, he’d just kill him and be done with it, and this time he’d make damn certain the bastard was dead.

“Lo?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s mine this time.”