Dark Moon Magic Page 5

  This was all she needed. She already had someone trying to drive her out of Groves, and if that person wasn’t Becky, then now she’d have yet another worry on her hands.

  * * *

  Trace knew the minute Regina opened the door that evening, the next three hours were going to be the hardest of his life. She’d literally taken his breath away. He had expected to see her in the same drab black, but the snug-on-top emerald dress left little to the imagination as to how full her breasts were, and the color set off her red hair, almost made it look like flaming fire around her beautiful face. The bright lipstick she wore forced his eyes on her mouth every time he looked her way and caused a frickin’ hard-on whenever he thought of kissing those lips.

  She had to know what kind of effect she had on him—had to be able to see it in his eyes. She sure as hell would be able to tell if he stood up right now.

  Becky had seen it from across the room. That’s why she’d come over to pester them, then tried to hide her anger when she’d walked away.

  Trace needed to keep his eye on her. She could cause trouble for Regina, and frankly, the woman had had enough of that already.

  A slow song started to play, and Trace shifted again. He didn’t want Regina to ask him to dance and force him to tell her no.

  He glanced around the hall and noticed Rayland coming through the door, his wife in tow. Talk about opposites attracting. He had no idea why those two were together, unless it had something to do with money. Sally Grimes was a mousy girl with a little too much meat on her bones. Rayland was thin and had his share of female admirers, though, if he cheated on his wife, Trace hadn’t heard anything about it.

  The couple separated, and Trace braced himself when Rayland started toward them. “I’m glad you came,” the man said to Regina before turning to Trace. “Are you two seeing each other? I thought you had some rule against dating anyone from town.”

  Trace eyed the man. “It’s not a date. We just came together.”

  “In that case, would you like to dance, Ms. Moon?” Rayland stared at her as if she were a decadent dessert he was hungry for.

  No way was Trace letting this man near her. Not if he could help it. “Sorry, but she promised me the first dance,” he lied, then looked at Regina, hoping she would confirm it.

  She eyed him as if he’d lost his mind.

  What the hell had he just done? He couldn’t dance for shit, yet Trace was going to have to be forced to get up on that floor and act like he could.

  Rayland’s nostrils flared. Trace could tell he was angry but trying to hide it from everyone but him.

  “Save me a dance if you would.” Rayland walked away.

  Silence fell over the table. Trace knew he couldn’t not dance with her, but right then he had to work up the courage.

  “So,” she said, their gazes connecting.

  “I guess we should.” He stood and tipped his head toward the dance floor. He was going to make a total fool out of himself, and everyone in town was here to see it.

  She rose, and they stepped into the couples dancing.

  Rayland sent him a heated stare from across the room. It was clear the man hated him, and the feeling was mutual.

  On the dance floor, he pulled Regina into his arms. “I have to warn you, I’m not very good at this,” he said next to her ear.

  She pulled back to look into his eyes, and the room seemed to disappear around them.

  Trace swayed to the music, caught up in watching the way her gaze turned to liquid fire. Regina Moon had to be the most stunning woman he’d ever encountered.

  As the two moved, he thought about how the tiny freckles on the bridge of her nose seemed to travel down across her cheeks.

  Then his attention shifted to her lips, which were slightly parted. To be inside that mouth … What he wouldn’t give to have his tongue there, exploring every sweet recess. Stop it, Trace. You keep this up, and your dancing will be the least of your worries. Leaving the floor with a full-blown erection would be the talk of the town for days to come.

  The music ended, and Trace clasped her hand before making a beeline off the floor. He’d danced with her. He wouldn’t have to again.

  Back at the table, he finished his drink and glanced around. Every single woman in Groves seemed to be headed his way, like a pack of wolves cornering a rabbit. “Let’s take a walk outside to get some air,” he said to Regina, then jumped up and grabbed her hand, whisking her away.

  Outside, Trace inhaled a relieved breath. This dance had been a mistake. He could avoid most women as long he stayed away from events like this.

  “You were right.” Her confirmation drew Trace to her.

  “About what?”

  “The women. How do you stand all the attention?”

  “I don’t come to these things.”

  Her gaze connected with his. “So, why did you tonight, Trace?”

  Why had he come besides to keep an close eye on Rayland? To protect Regina from him, yes, but there was more to it than that. He found himself bewitched by her, and he couldn’t fight that no matter how hard he tried.

  Trace clasped her fingers in his, dragged her around the side of the building, and before he could stop himself, pulled her to him and kissed her—a kiss that went from a simple brush to crazed passion in a matter of seconds.

  Intent with purpose, he backed her against the building, forcing his tongue into her mouth. It had been ages since he’d felt this way about a woman, and he was completely lost. He slid his hands up her body and moved to cup her breasts, thumbing the nipples through the bodice.

  She tore her mouth from his and shoved him away.

  The action brought Trace back to reality.

  Regina looked almost frightened at what just happened.

  “I have to go.” She turned and raced toward the front of the building.

  Trace squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a ragged breath. He had to fix this, or she’d probably never talk to him again, and he couldn’t live with that. Not when he’d clearly misread her response to his kiss.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Regina closed and locked her apartment door, then turned and fell against it, shocked at the reaction she’d had to Trace’s kiss. Thank heaven she’d had enough sense to stop before things got out of control. She couldn’t say she hadn’t wanted to go further, but men spelled trouble for her, and Sheriff Langston would be that big time, if what she’d experienced in his arms was anything to go by.

  Now that they’d kissed, everything would change. Things would be uncomfortable between them. Just one more thing to worry about, and frankly, Regina had enough stress. Maybe if she called Tiah and had her come to Groves, that might keep her mind and body off him and on who had it out for her. Yet, would that be wise, knowing Rod was watching her best friend’s every move?

  She didn’t know what to do. Though staying away from Trace Langston was one thing on her agenda. He made her forget her head, and she needed her brain working to find out who was trying to scare her off.

  Regina pushed away from the door and headed for her bedroom. She had another night of painting ahead of her, seeing as she wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

  She walked to her dresser in search of something to change into—clothing she could get paint on—and she quickly changed. She hung her dress on a wooden hanger and looked longingly at it. Tonight should have ended with sore feet from dancing too much. Instead, it had left her restless and with a yearning in the pit of her stomach, since Trace kissed like no other. That alone would keep her from getting any rest, unlike Isis, who was sound asleep on her bed.

  Regina went to the utility closet to get the paint supplies, and on her way back to the bedroom, a siren in the distance caught her attention. It got louder and louder, until it sounded as if it were just outside her door.

  She dumped the contents in her arms onto the floor and raced to the front. She slid the chain aside, turned the bolt lock, and opened the door.

  An ambula
nce sat in front of the neighbors’ behind her, the light on top of the emergency vehicle flashing red. Someone had to be hurt.

  Regina stepped onto her porch and watched, praying it was nothing more than a twisted ankle.

  A car off to her right caught her eye. It was the sheriff. If he was called, this was much more serious than a sprain.

  He got out of his squad car and glanced at her on the way toward the house. He didn’t give any clue as to what was happening. No grimace. No smile. No nothing.

  When he disappeared inside, a strange sensation flooded her. Something awful had happened. Something dark.

  Goose bumps rushed across her skin, and she rubbed her arms with her fingertips, a sick, sinking feeling taking hold. Her breathing stalled, and she had to force herself to take in some air.

  She glanced around, and the hairs on her arms charged. Standing halfway in the shadows, highlighted by the flashing lights, was Rayland Grimes, a smoky haze hovering in the air around him. He wasn’t watching what was going on next door; he was staring at her—with eyes that seemed to undress her.

  Regina sucked in more air and glanced back at the house where the ambulance sat. She wanted to know what was happening badly, but her safety was more important at the moment.

  As she started back inside, a gust of wind rushed through her. She’d never felt anything like it, and strangely enough, the night was as still as the calm before a storm.

  Icy dread had her racing into the house. She secured the locks, her whole body shaking. Something evil had crossed her path. She knew it. Just as she knew that across the street someone had died. But did Rayland Grimes have anything to do with it? She wished she had the answer. She certainly didn’t like the way he looked at her. The man was married for heaven sake. He had no right to stare at her like that.

  Regina knew what she had to do. She needed her best friend here to help her find out what was going on. Suddenly the small, serene town felt far from tranquil, and she didn’t want everyone thinking it had anything to do with her. She’d heard how crazed a place could get when strange things happened and folks got scared. She didn’t want to be the one hung in the square because Groves had been a quiet little community before she showed up.

  She went to find her cell phone. The sooner she called Tiah, the faster she could get here. Maybe she’d be able to convince Regina she was overreacting. Because if she couldn’t, Regina was going to have to rethink her faith in small town living.

  * * *

  Trace stepped into the house, and suddenly he was transported to another time, back to his days in Chicago. On homicide watch. He never dreamed he’d see anything like this again. Not in Groves.

  A fresh blood trail marked a path on the beige carpet leading to the bedroom, as though someone had been dragged.

  On the coffee table sat at least a six-pack of empty beer bottles. Everything else in the room appeared normal. Nothing unusual or out of place. Trace mentally prepared himself for what he was about to see next, especially since, the small house belonged to Keith Walsh—a man who had been his friend for almost as long as he’d been sheriff. Who would want to hurt Keith?

  He moved toward the man’s bedroom with two paramedics in tow, though from the amount of blood on the floor, he didn’t think they’d be needed. Instead, he’d probably be calling the county coroner.

  He wondered about the anonymous tip he’d received, instructing him to check on Keith. He wished he’d thought to have the call traced, though, it’d been so brief, he was pretty sure they wouldn’t have been able to. Besides, they didn’t have the technology readily available to them here in town.

  Trace inhaled and entered the room, feeling around for the light switch. His hand made contact, and he flipped it up, sickened by what he saw.

  “Jesus Christ,” one of the paramedics said from behind him.

  He could hardly believe the scene. A rough outline of a blood drawn symbol of a pentagram was on the wall above where Keith lay on the floor, his arms positioned at an angle toward his head, his legs spread apart. He’d been stabbed in the center of his chest, the handle of a knife covered in blood still embedded in his body. His eyes were wide open, his mouth agape. Trace knew the man was dead.

  He turned to the paramedics. “I don’t think you’ll be needed, boys.”

  The two looked at one another and rushed from the room.

  Once alone, Trace’s throat closed with emotion. The last time he’d seen Keith had been the night they’d played cards. The man had talked him into drinking three beers, something Trace hardly ever did. Only around him. As a small town cop, he was always on duty, and he needed to stay sober. That night he’d been trying to get Regina off his mind, and then she’d been the one to interrupt their poker game. He wished he’d told Keith his friendship had meant a lot to him. Now it was too late.

  Trace unclipped his cell phone and punched in the number to the State Police. He’d need a forensics tech to come and process the scene. The blood covering the handle of the knife in Keith’s chest could contain prints.

  “State Police,” a female voice answered.

  “Yes. This is sheriff Trace Langston from Groves. I have what appears to be a ritual killing. I’m going to need someone from forensics and maybe another, who deals in these types of killings, to come and help in the investigation.”

  “All right, Sheriff. Give me your number, and I’ll have someone call you.”

  In a voice he was struggling hard to control, he relayed the necessary digits.

  Trace flipped his phone shut and tucked it back into the case at his hip. He took a staggering step toward his friend and squatted down next to his body, spotting something under him. Too bad he’d have to wait to find out what it was, since he didn’t have any latex gloves in his car. Up until now, he’d had no need for them. But he couldn’t contaminate the crime scene, so he’d have to wait until forensics arrived.

  The motion of the ceiling fan above stirred the metallic smell in the air and had him swallowing convulsively.

  His first murder in Groves. So much for no one getting killed on his watch.

  There had been a lot of firsts lately. Ever since Regina Moon came to town.

  Trace rubbed his chin. She lived directly across the street from Keith, and they’d gone their separate ways a little over an hour ago.

  No way. That wouldn’t have given her enough time. Maybe Keith had been dead a while. Perhaps she killed him before he picked her up for the dance.

  This is crazy. The woman was tiny. He doubted she could drag a two-hundred pound man across the living room floor to the bedroom. Hardly possible. Besides, she didn’t seem like the killer type, but then, Trace had worked homicide in Chicago, and nine times out of ten the murderer hadn’t looked the part.

  Was he hoping it wasn’t Regina because he liked her?

  Trace stood and left the room. It was so painful to see his friend lying there.

  As he headed for the entrance, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out and flipped it open. “Sheriff Langston.”

  “Sheriff, this is Sergeant Foley from the State Police. I have a tech and a detective familiar with ritual killings on the way to Groves. If you need anything else, you can call me directly at this number.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. I appreciate your help.”

  Trace ended the call and walked to the door, looking out into the night. He’d left Chicago to get away from this kind of crap. Now he was going to have to investigate the murder of a friend, and he knew that was not only unethical, but hard as hell. He vowed he would use that pain to find a killer and put him behind bars where he belonged.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Regina woke to a loud banging. She turned toward the window and squinted, noting it was daylight. On her nightstand, the digital clock read a little after ten.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed, grabbed her robe from the bottom, and wrapped it around her.

  The banging became insistent and annoying.

&
nbsp; “I’m coming,” she shouted, her throat feeling scratchy. Was she catching a cold? In the summer, no less?

  She padded to the door, unsecured the locks, and opened it to find Trace standing outside. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. “Are you all right?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Regina sighed. “Yeah, I don’t want to rehash what happened last night.”

  “I’m here on official business, Regina.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. What did he mean by official?

  “Can I come in?” His serious expression made her throat constrict.

  The events from last night rushed back. The ambulance. Rayland Grimes. The strange breeze coming out of nowhere.

  Regina stepped back and allowed him inside, then led him straight to the kitchen. “I’ll make some coffee.”

  She hurried to get the coffeemaker ready, flipped it on, and faced Trace. “What’s the official business?” She braced herself for what she was about to hear.

  He cleared his throat.

  “What’s going on, Sheriff?”

  “Keith Walsh was murdered in his home last night.”

  Regina sucked in a ragged breath, the name for some reason sounding familiar. “Oh my heavens. Do you know who did it?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. But you can bet the farm I will. Keith was a good friend of mine.”

  “Did I know him?” Regina tried hard to put a face to the name.

  “He was the one who disposed of those dead birds. He stopped in that day to tell you it was safe to step out your side door.”

  Regina remembered the man. He’d had a warm smile that touched his amber eyes and emerald-green aura, indicating a healer and a love-centered person.

  “I’m so sorry, Trace. She reached out and touched his arm, realizing too late any contact with the man was a mistake. Electricity ricocheted across her body, centering low in her belly.

  Regina stepped back and forced herself to ask, “Was his place the one you came from the night the rock was thrown through my window?”