“GENESIS DARLING!” Leo stood on the doorstep to her apartment, hands spread and waiting for an embrace that would never come. Pouting, he lowered his arms.
“Come in.” Gen stepped back, allowing the enemy to enter her home. A quick scan of the parking lot below revealed no sign of Chris’s sedan. Good. She didn’t need Flynn showing up right now.
The idea of Gen in the same room with a handsome man, especially when the man was Gen’s ex-lover, would send Flynn into jealous, insecure fits. And worse, Flynn didn’t know Leo was her ex. Not that she’d hidden it. It just hadn’t come up. Hadn’t seemed to matter. Right?
Like she hadn’t told Flynn about her dark magic addiction. The two were connected. Leo had tended toward the dark even when they were dating. Gen neither needed nor wanted the temptation and exposure.
Leo made a beeline for the living room, removed his light jacket, and tossed it over the armchair. After kicking off his shoes, he propped his feet on the coffee table. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you ditched the Amazon and came to your senses.”
“No one’s ditching anyone,” Gen said. She grabbed his feet and shoved. “Manners. You don’t live here anymore. You’re a guest.” She took the couch, perching on the edge of the cushions. Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea.
“I’m wounded,” Leo said, placing a hand over his heart and falling against the back of the chair. He glanced toward the window and cocked his head. “New curtains?”
Gen blew out a frustrated breath, her bangs lifting and falling on her forehead. “I swear, you are the gayest straight man I’ve ever known.”
He laughed. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.” He crossed his legs and studied her. “So, if you didn’t invite me over to show me curtains—too flowery, by the way—or beg me to come back to you, then why am I here?”
“I want to know what you were doing at Dead Man’s Pond.”
Silence. And if that shut Leo up, then he was into something.
“I was investigating the accidents there,” he finally admitted.
“Why?”
“Because a client hired me to.”
Gen considered that. “Let me guess. Max Harris.”
Leo jerked in his seat, a dead giveaway. “I don’t have to discuss my clients with you. As I recall, professional differences were one of the many reasons we broke up.”
“We didn’t break up. I threw you out.”
He slipped a hand around to his ass and rubbed it. “And quite roughly too.”
“You were messing with black magic,” Gen said, standing and pacing in front of the “too flowery” curtains, “going against everything we believed in.”
“No,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “What you believed in. What I believe is that we should benefit from every source of power at our disposal. We have gifts. We should use them to better the lives of others.”
Regardless of the cost to some.
“Better your own, you mean,” she said, stopping and facing him. “That McLaren is hideous, by the way.” For some, like her, the power created the addictive factor. Using it felt good. For others, the addiction stemmed from wealth.
“I don’t see you suffering.” Leo glanced pointedly around the room, at the Laura Ashley decor, the expensive artwork.
She sighed. No point in telling him about the charity donations. He either wouldn’t understand or he wouldn’t believe her. And she did live well. “Bottom line, Leo. Did you cast some sort of spell at Dead Man’s Pond?”
“I don’t kill people, Gen.”
Huh. Not quite an answer to the question she’d asked. Leo excelled at half-truths. She knew from experience. But he could be being honest. Dark magic exacted a cost, depending upon its use. She’d used it to heal; it had, apparently taken a life in return. He used it for monetary gain. Someone close to him had likely gone bankrupt, considering how much wealth Leo had accumulated. But that wouldn’t explain Dead Man’s Pond.
She tried a different question. “What about ghosts? Seen any out there?”
He sat up straight and stared at her. “Ghosts? What ghosts?”
Genesis considered her options. If Leo was behind the accidents somehow, then he was responsible for a dozen or more deaths. If he wasn’t, and he truly was just investigating for a dead woman’s husband, which made some sense—it was the sort of thing psychics got asked to do all the time—then he’d make a powerful ally.
And no, she was not, was not, bringing him in on this to be closer to the dark magic she felt sparking from him.
“Katherine Harris,” she said, watching for his reaction. “She’s back. And she’s pissed.”