Page 145 of Love & Heart Braking

Maligni murmured, “Yes, thank you. Baking actually. Though I burned some orange and chocolate chip cookies last night.” Finishing the translation, the daemon stood and bowed to the poltergeist. “Chew. Grind. Mash. Bite.”

The poltergeist bowed deeply. “Bite. Chew. Swill. Roast.”

Maligni smiled.

I retreated to my seat next to Devereaux. “Rodney, hover where you will. I’m very interested to hear more about the note you sent. Please be assured that everyone in this room is working against the people you hate. We want revenge too. And we really need information on the twelve.” I looked up at the poltergeist, a nearly translucent man in his early fifties, dressed in a three-piece checkered suit, bowtie, and bowler hat. “Can you tell us how you died?”

32

I woke on my stomach, and my lips curved at the warm weight on my ass.

“Good morning,” a sleepy Devereaux murmured.

“Hmm, morning. Your hand drifted.”

“It has a mind of its own.”

“A brain in your hand. My, you are talented, Detective Vincori.” I turned my head to look at my berserker. “Sleep well?”

“Like a babe.”

The word babe sent an odd yearning through me, one I’d never felt before. Not that I wanted a family right this second—I’d love to just spend more time with him first. But eventually… yeah, I wanted some mini Devereauxes and Ceryses around. Though a one-bedroom apartment would certainly be an issue then.

Groaning, I checked the time. “I’m not ready for work today.”

“Hectic, huh?”

“That’s for sure. I’ll get used to juggling both roles.” I bit my lip. “I just don’t want to.”

Devereaux rolled onto his back. “I get that. It’s always been you and Soleil.”

I swallowed hard. Yep. “Pretty crazy what Rodney had to say, huh?”

“Sure is. And if he died in that factory, think of how many other grieving families the Opifis have paid off to shut them up.”

Rodney had spent the last twenty years since his death gathering evidence illustrating the trail of lives claimed in the Opifis’ factories which operated under dodgy health and safety procedures. That wasn’t where his real problem resided, however. Rodney wasn’t bothered that he’d died. He was bothered that the Ventrams refused to sell the haunting rights of where he’d died to his mafia.

Safe to say that the poltergeist was consumed by the injustice of it all. In his words, “Limbs. Torso. Brain.”

In our language? I’m all in.

Maligni had translated everything, but the folder Rodney brought with him had contained an email that didn’t require clarification. The Ventrams didn’t want poltergeists on that land in any form. The factory in question was in use for highly confidential medical substances.

Devereaux thought with the right judge—which barring them bowing to extreme public outcry didn’t seem to exist in Nepos—that could be enough when combined with what he’d figured out yesterday—that the Ventrams had only leased land for the Opifis’ factories that were producing Shade. The land for every factory manufacturing legit items was also owned by the Opifis too.

“Countless people could’ve died in them.” I shivered.

“Yes,” he said darkly. “But let’s leave that until the next alliance meeting. This is our first breakfast together.”

I propped up on an elbow. “It is too.”

His cool gray gaze roamed over me. “You’re too beautiful for words.”

I scooted across the bed and dared to land a kiss on his lips. “Thank you. I usually have a green smoothie for breakfast. Want one?”

Laughing at his appalled expression, I threw back the blankets. “Do eggs, avocado, and toast sound better?”

“Much,” he admitted.

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