The Trouble with Twelfth Grave (Charley Davidson #12)(45)

I ground my teeth as Artemis, reacting to my frustration, hopped up and dove for my face. Thank Reyes’s Brother I wasn’t wearing any makeup.

Wait. I perked up. Well, first I fended off the ninety-pound Rottweiler, eased off the gas, and swerved back into my own lane. Then I perked up. Maybe I could trick Reyes into telling me. If I summoned him, I could offer to help. I could assist him in his search.

“I wouldn’t suggest it.”

His voice, like warm honey, washed inside me, weakening my already strained muscles.

I glanced to my right. He sat in the passenger’s seat, his shoulders wide, his knees spread, his body almost too big for the small space.

Artemis jumped, then eyed him, unsure if he were friend or foe. Slowly, she crawled into my lap, all ninety pounds of her, and looked back at him with a whimper. I was right there with her.

He’d turned to where his right shoulder leaned against Misery’s door so he could face me. His dark eyes shimmered in the dawning light, absorbing the colors, reflecting them back at me. His straight nose and full mouth sat at such perfect angles, they screamed sensuality without the slightest effort. Like a supermodel or a cover boy.

I tore my gaze off him and concentrated on estimating the distance between cars since I had to look around Artemis to see the highway and anything on it. Rush-hour traffic had already begun. Commuters from Bernalillo and Santa Fe peppered the road into Albuquerque, making my job that much harder.

“You wouldn’t suggest what?” I asked him, taking comfort in the fact that Artemis stood as a barrier between us. I’d wrapped one arm around her to keep her calm.

“You tricked me once.”

“And you tricked me.”

He sat silent for a long moment, then said, “You remember.”

“Not really. I just read an unauthorized biography of us. It was very … enlightening.”

His brows slid together as though trying to understand my meaning.

“Reyes, what are you looking for?”

“So you can help?” he asked with a scoff.

“So I can stop you. Apparently, I’m going to have to either way.” When he didn’t comment, I continued. “What are you looking for?”

He pressed his lips together and turned to stare out the window. “I don’t know. He won’t tell me.” He turned back to me, his gaze so stunningly beautiful, it pained me to look at. “He won’t tell me, but he’ll tell you.”

A horn sounded beside me, and I jerked the wheel to the right, snapping out of the dreamlike state Reyes had held me in. Dreaming again. Damn it. I pulled over to the side of the road. To calm my nerves. To catch my breath. Then something hit me. Artemis really was in my lap. She’d seen him. I hadn’t been dreaming.

Losing the feeling in my legs, I started to scoot her off my lap when Angel popped in, sitting right where Reyes had been.

“Did you see him?” I asked.

Angel frowned at me, then laughed when Artemis jumped into his lap. “Who?” he asked between chuckles.

“Reyes. He was just here.”

“No, loca, he wasn’t.”

“It was a dream?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. Either way, Reyes wasn’t here. Rey’azikeen may have been, but not Reyes.”

“Ah, right. You guys love pointing that out.”

Spotting a lull in the traffic, I pulled back onto the interstate just as my phone rang.

I answered it. Or I tried to.

“Where are you?” Cookie asked before I even got a Charley’s House of Butterfly Genitalia out. “Are you okay? Why did you leave?” Cookie bombarded me with questions, not actually giving me time to answer any of them. “Have you read the third book yet? I’ve been calling for hours. Where did you go?”

I finally had to interrupt her. “I’m fine, Cook. I’m on my way back.”

“Did you get any sleep at all?”

“Not this week, but as soon as I wrangle me an ornery husband, I’m hibernating. For, like, a year. Maybe two.”

She began to calm. “Are you okay, hon?”

“I should be asking you that. Did you get any sleep?”

“No. Well, I dozed a little. In your apartment. Robert woke up, found me gone, and put out an APB, but he called it off when I went home. That’s not why I’m calling. You really need to read this book. The last one? It’s about the two stars, you know, you and Reyes. But why does the author call you stars? Why not just come right out with it and call you gods? Does he know what you are? And how did he see all of this?”

As Cookie prattled on, clearly having had one too many last night—coffees that is—I let a loud yawn overtake me.

She stopped. “I’m sorry, hon.”

“It’s okay. I’m listening. Keep going. How did he see all of that. Got it.”

“Charley, you’re pulled in so many different directions, I don’t know how you do it.”

“Right? I put in my bid for the Elastigirl serum, so the minute the scientific community gets its act together and creates something more useful than Viagra, I’m set.”

“Then sign me up, too.”

“Wait,” I said as the perfect solution hit me like a hurricane. “I’ve got it. Ari and Lola! Get it? For the girls?”