Principles of Spookology (The Spectral Files, #2)

by S.E. Harmon

That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet. EMILY DICKINSON

One would think we’d enjoy a break; we worked, ate, and slept together. Hell, we practically lived together. In fact, it would probably seem like we’d get sick of seeing each other’s faces and start sniping at one another for no reason at all. And all that would be, well, pretty fucking accurate. I still wanted to fall asleep next to him. No matter what.

We may strangle each other to death, but then we want to be buried next to one another. I got out of the car, chuckling a little as I shouldered my bag. I didn’t think that I’d ever summarized our relationship better. I was pretty sure he would agree.

He smiled pleasantly… and then his gaze landed on my pastries. We had a brief battle of the eyes. My steely gaze told him I wasn’t above licking a Danish to claim it. His steady stare told me he wasn’t above eating a licked Danish.

“Tell me you have some secret files on your computer,” I said, scrolling through his inbox. Companies were still sending him spam. Bed Bath & Beyond was determined to give him twenty percent off, murder be damned.

“Feel free to help yourself to some of those fresh donuts on your way out, guys.” “Oh, no, that’s all r—” Danny turned at the sound of a crinkling bag to find me mid grab. “I guess we will. Thank you.” I sent him a what look and carried on putting donuts in the bag. Luke said we could help ourselves. You don’t turn down freshly glazed donuts. Everyone knew that. I paused and shook the bag, gauging if more could fit. I gave Danny’s judgmental stare my back and continued to stuff the bag.

“Last time I checked, we’re cops. We can’t turn down donuts. People will talk, Daniel.”

He wriggled his fingers again, and I slid my hand in his with a huff. His hand was larger than mine, warm and callused and… safe. I didn’t know why he made me feel that way. Yeah, he was more built and a lot taller—a genetic fact he had nothing to do with and still lorded over me anyway—but it wasn’t that. He could be five feet tall and a hundred pounds and still make me feel safe. I was trained to protect myself, so I didn’t need him to make me feel that way. He just did. I wasn’t a ghost whisperer or a detective when I was with him. I was just Rain. I liked that—a lot.

holding hands while I’m driving is really sappy,” I informed him, but other than a small quirk of his lips, he ignored me and gripped my hand tighter. I liked that too.

“I don’t want you upsetting the people I love. They’ve been through enough.” “Because that’s what I live for,” I said in exasperation. “Upsetting little old ladies and kicking their dogs down the stairs.” “Not Mr. Pickles.” He sounded horrified.

When I stepped out on the bathmat, I stopped short to see Mason still standing by the sink. “You!” “Me,” he said again with a shrug. “If it helps, you’re a very nice-looking man.” “What?” “Personally, I go for dark haired guys,” he said earnestly. “Blue eyes. Built and tall. You know the type.” “Intimately,” I said. “He is something, isn’t he?” He blushed at my raised brows, and he hurried on to say, “Not that you don’t have your own appeal.” “That means a lot,” I said dryly. “I mean, your stomach is pretty flat. You have nice, strong legs and beautiful hazel eyes. I love hazel eyes. And your um, stuff,” he waved at my lower half, his face now completely pink. “It’s about average, don’t you think?” If he’d overestimated, I would’ve let him stay. I pointed at the door. “Out.”

“You know, Mason wasn’t perfect, but he was a good man.” “I never thought, or implied, otherwise.” “I’m telling you this because you’re his last chance to speak. He deserves closure.” She twisted her hands together. “You’re the man working his case and he needs to be important to you.” The sentiment was sweet but unnecessary. He already was.

“Namaste. I’m your spiritual guru, Tree.” “Tree?” “And you would be?” I guess I had no room to talk. If ever there was a person who would appreciate my full name, it would be a man named Tree. “Rainstorm,” I said with a sigh.

I was receptive and open and… my stomach rumbled again. Fuck. I was receptive and open to some damned donuts. I opened one of my eyes a slit just to see what Danny was doing and saw him bring something to his mouth. Is that bastard eating a cruller in the middle of my session?

“I’m going to try and draw the energy out with you.” He leaned forward quickly and before I knew what he was about, his hand landed on my forehead—a little harder than necessary. “Ouch.” My eyes flew open. I was now ninety-nine percent sure that “drawing the energy out of you” meant “I’m going to smack the shit out of you.” He repeated the motion on my forehead with even more force. “Ohhhm.” “Will you stop that?” He smacked me again, and I grabbed his wrist. “Look here, Tree. I’m about to make you into a fucking shrub if you don’t—” I heard a knock on the glass and looked over to find Danny standing there, cup of coffee in hand, one eyebrow raised imperiously. Then I looked back at Tree, who gave me an unflappable look of his own. I sighed heavily and let his wrist slither from my grasp. I settled back into my cross-legged position. Danny sent me a little wave and a smirk and headed back to his chair.

I sighed. “What kind of name is Dakota Daydream?” “I don’t know.” His expression was placid, but his eyes danced. “Rainstorm.” Touché, motherfucker. Touché.

“Didn’t seem to be going all that well through the window.” He popped the piece in his mouth. “Especially when he started smacking you around.” “Thank you,” I exclaimed. “I knew that ‘touch’ was harder than it should be.” He let out a soft huff of amusement. “And I knew you were annoying enough to send a peace-loving guru to the dark side.

“Of course I love you. More importantly, I like you.” “I think you need a refresher course on the difference between love and like.” “I know what love is, Rainstorm.” He leaned over and dropped a kiss on my downturned mouth. “Love is this unstoppable force that you have very little control over. Sometimes you love the people that you shouldn’t. Sometimes you love people who’ve hurt you over and over again.” I knew he was thinking of his parents—his birth mother, the drug addict, who’d been more concerned with scoring her next hit than taking care of her children. And his father, a volatile tempered man who’d been in prison most of Danny’s life for homicide. When it came to picking parents, Danny had pulled two Joker’s Wild from the deck. He shook his head, as if shaking off the past was that easy. “That’s love for you. Making decisions all on its own. I don’t have any say in that. I love you because my heart says so.” He sent me a crooked smile. “I like you because I say so.” For that alone, I could forgive him for shaking me out of bed at the crack of dawn to get bitch slapped by a guru. #Neverforgetthough.

“It’s just so fucking hard to believe.” “What is?” “That the same man who uttered those achingly beautiful words could be the same man who gave me a Valentine’s Day card with ‘love ya, Danny’ scrawled on the bottom.” “I drew an arrow to the line that read ‘you’re my heart,’ didn’t I?” he demanded. “That you did,” I said, amused. “If I could say it better than Hallmark, I wouldn’t have spent almost five bucks on a card.”

Luckily Danny and Saunders were still chatting about the best way to hit a cantaloupe with a nine iron, with a little too much fucking relish, in my opinion. I was getting rid of all the golf clubs in his garage, ASAP.

He seemed to think I could help resurrect him somehow.” A frown marred my brow as I thought about the experience. “I’m not sure where he got that idea, but he was holding on to that hope.” Danny gave me a long look. “Rain, I’ve put up with a lot of strangeness from you. Hell, I’d go so far as to say it’s one of your best qualities. But if you start resurrecting people, we’re so over.”

I wiped my teary eyes. He’d never even put the glass down. That was pretty damned nonchalant considering I was almost felled in my prime by a bowl of Special K.

“I forgot to tell you that I talked to one of my snitches earlier. She had information on Luke.” I blinked at him. “You have snitches?” “You don’t?” “Of course I do,” I said quickly, wondering where I could submit a request to acquire some fucking snitches, ASAP.

I’d always wanted to learn but never quite made the time. Well, that wasn’t one-hundred-percent true. Part of me didn’t relish the whole Russian roulette aspect of the surfing deal. I didn’t want to be that surfer telling my story on the Discovery channel about how a shark took a chunk out of me because he thought I was a seal. I’d pretend to forgive him because I was “in his home,” all the while secretly wishing I could harpoon his test-biting ass.

I didn’t bother to inform him that he was the cause of my racing pulse, not coffee. It was a little embarrassing that even after all this time, just his thumb on my wrist was enough to make me nervous and stupid and my palms a little sweaty… not just in a sexual way, but an I Can’t Believe He’s Mine kind of way. Every time.

“Life would just be so much easier if I didn’t mind disappointing you.” “I’m sure it would.” Those blue eyes crinkled at the corners in an achingly familiar way. “I love you.” Ah, how sweet. I offered him my own particular brand of romance. “Drop dead.” I closed the door on his loud and hearty laughter, a smile tugging at my mouth.

“His name was Master Spencer and he owns a dojo. Anyone would’ve slipped up and called him Master Splinter at least once.” “Mm-hmm. And what exactly would you call starting a group discussion on which Ninja Turtle everyone would be?” “Unavoidable.” Danny shook his head. “And calling dibs on being Michaelangelo?” “Practical,” I shot back. “Everyone knows he’s the best one.” Other than a muttered, “Christ,” he didn’t respond.

As I left my office, my phone dinged again. I glanced at the screen to find a heart and snorted. Danny didn’t use emojis. He was probably trying to soften those bossy messages. Too bad I was immune to cute heart emojis. Then he sent a little cat face with heart eyes, and the bastard had me.

Maybe I’d just attach my request to a clip of an ASPCA commercial. Nothing worked better than puppy eyes.

I felt an overwhelming surge of love for him. No one cared about me like he did. No one. And I suspected no one loved me like he did either, although my mother would probably have something to say about that. Something loud. For that, I could forgive him for being the most overprotective protector that ever protected. “I love you.” He grunted. “Don't get soft on me, Christiansen.” I knew even without visual confirmation that his cheeks were probably quite pink. God, it was cute when a big, gruff guy blushed. I only wished I could be there to see it. He’d probably be sending me a stern look, daring me to comment. Challenge accepted. “Ah, I get it,” I teased. “You really love me.” “Shut your face, Moonbeam.” “That is not my middle name, and I don’t care what my mother says.”

“You’ll need me in a zombie apocalypse.” “Yeah, I will. I plan on making a fucking beeline to your house.” “I’ll keep the storm shutters up for an hour. Then I gotta close them and lock the house up tight.” “One hour? That’s it?” I snapped the gloves over my fingers. “Don’t I deserve at least two? I’m the love of your fucking life.” “Facts not in evidence,” he said. “Besides, it’s too risky.” “Your conscience will eat you alive long before a zombie harvests you for brains.” He chuckled as we continued to search boxes. “You wish. I’ll rest easy, safe in my stronghold, secure in the knowledge that you’d want me to be happy.” “What if it’s past an hour and I’m banging on the door?” “I can’t risk it. You’re sneaky enough to hide a bite. I mean, really, what if you turn?” He shook his head as he tossed a box aside. “It would kill me to hit you in the face with a shovel. I’d do it of course, because it’s the right thing to do, but how would I live with myself?” “I didn’t want to be in your damn bunker anyway,” I informed him snootily.

I’m used to being there for you, but this… I can’t even see the things you do. That means I can’t always watch your back, and it kills me.” “Barreling in?” I used both hands to push my hair back and out of my eyes. It certainly didn’t seem that way to me. “They need me—” “I need you,” he all but shouted, voice echoing off the tile. He looked down at his hands as if just realizing they were balled into fists and let them drop. “I know they need you. But fuck, Rain, I need you, too.” “You have me.” I stepped forward until I was in his space, our bodies flush against one another.

“Rain, I don’t blame you for living your life,” he finally said. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to be lonely. I put your happiness above my jealousy.” “I appreciate the sentiment. Even if I find it hard to believe.” “What’re you talking about?” I snorted. “Last week at the grocery store? Remember that guy? The one who dared to ask me for a recommendation on coffee creamer? I must’ve been dreaming when you threatened him with a box of Honey Bunches of Oats.” “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grumped. “But if I did—and that’s a very big if—I wish I’d had something heavier in my hand. A can of peas would’ve probably done the trick.”

“I, Daniel McKenna, promise to love, hold, honor, and cherish you. And always say yes to shower sex.” His voice was a deep rumble, laced with threads of amusement. “There will always be room in my bed for you and only you, as long as you shut the fuck up and go to sleep.” Fucking finally, some vows I could get onboard with. “You should officiate weddings,” I said around a yawn.

I eyed him with a healthy dash of disgust. Jogging. On a Saturday morning. By choice. When we were old, I was going to relish putting him in a home. I was going to cite reasons of senility, and this kind of behavior would be my first example.

“Up early and you cooked? That’s all the proof I need.” “About what?” “You’ve been body snatched. But I like the new you better, so fuck it.”