hair was as long as Johnny’s, although there wasn’t quite as much of it, and it was much darker—almost the same color as Meliana’s, in fact.
Different heritage, though. Johnny drank the beer Charlie had given him and slid his gaze to his wife. Charlie Lightfoot was half Blackfoot, half French. Meliana was one quarter Hawaiian on her mother’s side and 100 percent drop-dead gorgeous. Johnny had fantasized about her hair while he’d been undercover. It was very nearly black, extremely thick and just the slightest bit wavy. It skimmed her collarbone these days, though when he’d met her five and half years ago it had actually been several inches longer.
“Calhoun,” Charlie said clearly.
“That was the groom’s name.” Reaching out, Meliana gave the slip a tug. “Forget weddings.”
“Maybe you need to be in it for the vibe thing to work,” Johnny suggested.
“Always a possibility.” Charlie stared unblinking at the fabric. Johnny had no idea how he did it. His head was throbbing, and his eyes stung from the herbs and incense. And Jethro Tull on scratchy vinyl in the background wasn’t helping.
He massaged his temples. “Do you need the rose?”
“Could be.” Charlie bunched the slip and breathed in. “Sounds lunatic, I know, but this really does work sometimes. Tell me about the other roses, Mel.”
Johnny moved his lips into a smile. “Yes, tell both of us.”
She set her cup aside. “They appeared in different places each time. I found the first one four weeks ago on the driver’s seat of my car. The second showed up ten days later on my desk at the hospital. The third was in my locker, which wasn’t locked—yes, I know, Johnny, not smart—and the fourth found its way into my lab coat pocket. He must have slipped it to me while I was making my rounds. It could happen,” she said with a shrug. “You bump into people all the time in hospital corridors.”
“Nurses, orderlies, patients?” Charlie assumed.
“Other doctors, maintenance workers, visitors.” Meliana sighed. “Sorry. Unless I’m in the O.R., I interact with a lot of people on a daily basis.”
“No surprise there. Hey, can we put this on hold for a few minutes? I need the bathroom, and mine’s out of commission. Lucky for me, I’ve got an obliging neighbor downstairs.”
Johnny’s head was beginning to buzz. It was a bad sign. He blocked the images that wanted to creep in and focused on Meliana.
She wore jeans tonight, faded blue with a leaf embroidered on the hem of her flared left leg. Her T-shirt was pale yellow and short. Though he hadn’t gotten a good look at it yet, he could envision the tiny gold ring she wore in her navel.
She’d had it pierced on their honeymoon. He’d had his left earlobe done. The rings had been engraved with the same design as their wedding bands.
God, it felt like years ago that they’d been lounging on that beach in Papeete. They’d eaten dinner at an outdoor restaurant, watched Polynesian dancers, then returned to their cabana where it had been his turn to watch her do a hula just for him.
She’d been good, damned good.
He rolled the cold bottle of beer across his forehead and decided it might be wise to block that memory, as well. They were separated now, a nightmarish fallout from his last assignment. He’d changed, he knew it, and so did Meliana. He’d been coiled up inside when he’d returned, prone to fits of inexplicable rage. He’d feared becoming violent. He’d feared hurting Meliana.
The nightmare was over, yet, oddly, much of what had happened in the two-year interim was still available to him only in fuzzy snippets.
What the hell, he wondered in exasperation, had he been thinking, accepting a two-year undercover stint on the street?
He swore, then looked around as two pairs of eyes landed on him. Charlie had returned without him noticing it. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m bummed about the flowers.” Not a total lie. “Come on, Lightfoot, what sort of guy does stuff like this?”
Charlie resumed his modified lotus position. “Your basic pervert’ll indulge himself from time to time, but it isn’t always that drastic a scenario. Could be someone who’s lonely, a teenager with a crush. The lingerie, though, that goes deeper. Now we’re probably talking obsession, deviant thoughts.”
“How deviant?”
“I can’t…” He halted, raised his head. He had Meliana’s slip in his hands again. “Razor blade,” he said. “I see a flat razor blade being used to slice off the thorns.”
Meliana glanced at Johnny. “The thorns were removed from all the roses.”
“Who’s using the blade?” Johnny wanted to know.
“I don’t know, but he’s doing it on an old plank board, like barn wood.”
Johnny’s lashes lowered in suspicion. “Are you sure you’ve only got herbs boiling in those pots?”
Charlie laughed. “Positive. And they’re the kind you can consume without seeing pink elephants. I’m blank now, Mel. I think that’s it for tonight.”
“I’m impressed.” She braved one of the cookies he’d set out, and with it between her teeth reached for her slip. “Grateful, too.” She took a bite. “I know you get tired of the quack stigma. These are good, by the way.”
“Demerara sugar’s the secret. You can unwind now, Johnny,” he said without looking over. “Black magic’s done.”
Johnny tipped back his beer to finish it. “Chris Blackburn uses a flat-blade razor to shave.”
“So does your father,” Meliana pointed out.
“My father lives in Indianapolis.”
“Chris didn’t steal my lingerie, Johnny.”
“He knows your alarm code.”
“He’s FBI.”
“Doesn’t mean he isn’t twisted.”
The look she sent him told him clearly what her thoughts on that subject were.
A delighted Charlie shifted his gaze from one to the other. “Really cool, guys. Don’t keep anything bottled up inside.”
“Yeah, well, that’s only one bottle opened.” Johnny pushed out of his chair. “We have several more.”
“And apparently the number’s growing.” Standing, Meliana kissed Charlie’s cheek. “Thanks for the magic. Are you at the hospital tomorrow?”
“Day after. I’m holding a clinic on suppressed aggression, if anyone here’s interested.”
Johnny ignored the remark and located his keys. “You should let him touch Lokie while you’re at it.”
Charlie adjusted his headband. “Your dog? Why?”
“He was a gift,” Meliana explained. “Possibly from the rose guy.”
“A live gift, huh?” Charlie’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I like that.”
“Like it or not, she’s mine, and I’m keeping her. Thanks again.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Johnny echoed.
Charlie caught his arm as he started to follow Meliana out. “Keep an eye on her, man. I don’t like some of those last vibes I got.”
Better and better, Johnny thought.
He took the rickety stairs to the front door. If you could call it a door. It looked more like a piece of dented metal with a faulty latch. It was a miracle the guy lived to hold clinics.
The rain had stopped. He caught up with Meliana in the parking lot. “I wasn’t looking for a fight, Mel. I just