Oracle: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 1), Carissa Andrews [read my book .txt] 📗

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’re dense if you think it’s all lucky guesses and wool pulled over eyes. What about the warning I gave about the other car? Why bother asking me to help you find the men who got away? I mean, what the hell?”

Honestly, I have no idea why it bothers me so much that he doesn’t believe me. It’s his prerogative, I guess. It wouldn’t be the first time—but for some reason, his rejection stings more than most.

Blake doesn’t say anything; he simply watches me like a hawk as he crosses his arms over his chest.

I stop pacing and turn to face him head on, widening my stance and refusing to look away. Suddenly, I know what I have to do to convince him once and for all.

“What are you doing?” he finally asks, quirking an eyebrow.

After a long pause, I say, “Fine, I’m in.”

11

BLAKE TAKES A STEP BACK. His eyes narrow, and his mouth twitches.

“What? Like, now?” he releases his arms and scratches the back of his head. “This wasn’t a ploy to get you to say yes, you know.”

I shrug.

“Even if it was, now I have something to prove and I can’t remember the last time I felt like that.”

“What if I’ve decided to let it go?” Blake says, shaking his head.

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh, let me guess, another premonition, right?” he makes a face, but for the first time, he enters the room. He walks to the big picture window on the far end of the space and stares out into the late afternoon.

“No, educated guess, moron.” I spit back, walking over to him.

Blake snickers.

“Right, you still can’t get a ‘read’ on me.”

I fight back the urge to punch him after he air quotes.

“See, that sarcastic tone in your voice is why I’m doing this. I’m looking forward to wiping the smug look completely off your face when it finally occurs to you there’s more to me than smoke and mirrors.”

“No, you’re not,” he says over his shoulder. He doesn’t look my direction, but there’s a hint of something—wonder perhaps—starting to blossom in his tone. He probably wouldn’t admit it—but I’ve been around long enough to hear it.

“No, I’m not, what?”

Blake turns around, leaning back as he rests his hands behind him on the window seal.

“You’re not doing this because you have anything to prove—at least, not when it comes to your psychic skills—mojo—whatever. I mean, what’s one person who thinks you might not be who you say you are? You have a reputation around here, even if I don’t entirely believe you. And you’re not doing it for an ‘I told you so’ either.”

“Okay, smart ass. Enlighten me. What am I really doing it for?”

Now it’s my turn to cross my arms and take a step back.

“Like I said before, you try too hard.”

“Ugh, not that again…” I roll my eyes and loll my head.

I take another step back and start to walk toward the door.

“It’s true. You want people to see this, I don’t know—hard shell—but it’s bullshit. You do all that because you’ve been hurt by caring too much. I’d wager my life on it. But every once in a while, the real you slips through. You want to care—you want to do good in this messed up world, but you don’t want anyone to know it’s the real you.”

My eyes widen, but I don’t dare say a word.

He takes a step forward.

“But I see it,” he says, his tone hushed.

“Well, thanks a ton for your assessment, Dr. Phil. Now, are we gonna get to work, or are you gonna psychotherapy my ass all day?” I say, shuddering away the goosebumps his words invoked.

Blake crosses his arms. “I know I’m right.”

“Then it looks like we both have something to prove.”

“Guess so,” he nods.

“Super. Now, where do you wanna get started?”

“I uh—I don’t know. I kinda got blind-sided by all this. Mind if I take a day to regroup? I need to talk with Aiden and see where he left off, I suppose.”

“Sure, do what you need to do. Take all the time you need,” I say, laying the sweet on thick.

Blake’s shoulder’s ease up a bit.

“But I sure hope that extra day doesn’t mean another girl—or ten—being kidnapped,” I add, heading for the door.

With an exasperated sigh, Blake’s chin drops to his chest.

“What? Honesty? Gotta love it,” I say.

“Fine. What do you propose?” he says, raising his head enough to glare at me from under his eyebrows.

“Well, sounds like you had something in play. Why not go chat with Aiden right now and see where we go from there? I mean, he is here. And we’re here. Why wait?”

“Yeah, I guess. Let’s go.”

Blake ushers me out of the study room and back to the kitchen. Aiden’s at the breakfast bar, snarfing up the last of his nachos as only a college kid can but looks up long enough to do a double take.

“Something you need?” he says through a mouthful.

Nodding, Blake scratches at the back of his neck and says, “Yeah, you got some time this evening to go over some of the stuff we found on the pedophile ring? Diana here would like to join us after all.”

“I thought we decided to table the whole thing—”

“I know what we decided. But I think Diana wants to check things over herself and maybe we can go from there,” Blakes says.

The two of them exchange odd glances, but Aiden shoves the last bite into his mouth and stands up.

“Let’s do it,” he says, walking to the dishwasher and tossing his plate and fork inside.

Blake leads the way back to the super-techie room, with me following close on his heels, and Aiden just behind me.

“Hang on, I need to grab something,” Blake says, opening the door on the right, just before we get there.

The last time I was here, Blake ushered me out rather quickly and I’d give my left foot to know