Ice: Again I only own Bailey and the plot. I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho.
Hiei: Don't worry. You'll live.
Kurama: Hiei, be nice.
Hiei: no.
Ice: moving on. And oh, yeah! Hiei had a growth spurt. He's 5 9.
Chapter One
July 26th, 10:00 a.m.
"Bailey!" Hiei woke shouting her name. Panting, he sat up and blinked away the sweat stinging his eyes. He was no longer in that dark parking lot. He was in his bedroom. He glanced at the peaceful, sun-dappled mocha walls, then studied the digital clock on the nightstand. It wasn't a cold December night, but a warm summer morning.
He exhaled a shaky breath. The mall incident had happened six months ago. When would the nightmares stop?
He scrubbed an unsteady hand over his jaw. More importantly, why did his subconscious keep replaying it wrong?
He always dreamed everything exactly as it had happened, in sharply focused detail. The mall's bank had been robbed, his brother trapped inside for hours. The wheelmen outside had started a firefight and escaped. But nobody had died. Not his brother or his brother's fiancée, not the hostages, not even the bank robbers.
And especially not Bailey Valentine. Since that fateful December night, Bailey and Hiei had continually crossed paths and swords. Like a bad case of heartburn he couldn't relieve, the rabid reporter appeared at his crime scenes, poking her pert nose where it wasn't wanted and yammering questions he refuse to answer. She was a mere Ningen for crying out loud! He'd swear she was tailing him.
Even worse, she turned up at least once a week in his bed-in his dreams. He climbed out from between the pitch-black sheets and twitched the matching comforter into place.
Make that nightmares.
Naked, he strode into the bathroom. He cranked on the shower, and steam curled around him. The faint scent of plumeria lingered in the mist. Bailey's inquisitive, heart-shaped face instantly shimmered into his mind, and his body tightened on a surge of desire. Swearing, he snatched the purple candle off the counter, tempted to toss it in the garbage. Genkai Jacobson, his family's irascible octogenarian neighbor, and martial arts trainer, had given it to him for Christmas. While it seemed an odd choice for a bachelor's neutral-toned bathroom, he'd been touched by the black-wrapped gift, presented with a rare smile, had put it on display.
He set the candle down, unable to bring himself to trash it. What the hell was wrong with him? The smell appealed to him damnit. The sultry, tropical fragrance reminded him of a trip to Hawaii-their last family vacation before Pop had been killed. The bright flower leis inherent to the islands were made from plumeria. Genkai had mentioned fond memories when she'd bestowed the gift. What the hell! Was he going soft? No good damnit!
He scowled. The scent used to appeal to him, before it became associated with a certain sassy, pain-in –the-ass black haired beauty. How could he be so exasperated and so attracted at the same time? What the hell was happening to him? She-was-a-ningen!
He stepped inside the shower enclosure. The shiny dark tiles were the same shade as Bailey's eyes. Hiei groaned and banged his forehead quietly on the wet stone.
Exotic and sensual, with her bewitching eyes and lush red mouth, Bailey was not anywhere near his usual type. He preferred elegant, reserved blondes. Passionate, stubborn, rash, women, on the other hand… no thanks. He shuddered and reached for the shampoo. Strong emotions were baffling. Crippling.
Caused way too much misery.
He'd never met a woman he wanted to risk everything for, or a woman who would risk everything for him. He liked amiable, level relationships maintained at a comfortable emotional distance. There might not be any mountaintops, but there was also no danger of hurtling over unexpected cliffs. As a career SWAT cop who dove into combat all too often, he had no desire to marry. In fact, several years ago when his grandmother's antique Japanese wedding ring was bequeathed to him per O'Rourke tradition, he'd refused it.
His brothers still held out hope he'd change his mind and refused to usurp his bequest. So, the ring would remain safely with his mom until one of his brothers had a son. No way would Hiei put a woman through the hell his mother had suffered. No way would he subject a family to the anguish he and his brothers had experienced.
He stuck his sudsy hair under the hot spray. So, why couldn't he wash Bailey Valentine out of his head? Out of his life?
Was she some sort of gypsy sorceress? After he'd refused to satisfy her chronic nosiness, had she cast a spell on him?
That idea wasn't to far fetch. Hadn't Kurama suffered from a sorceress who he had mad angry after he'd refused to sleep with her? Hiei snorted and reached for the soap. No freaking way. He didn't believe ningens could do voodoo.
He grabbed a washcloth and vigorously scrubbed his chest. He knew what, or rather, who was driving him around the bend, and his nemesis had a definite earthly origin. Things could not continue this way. So, what was he gonna do about it?
About her?
Dressed in her short yellow-and-orange paisley robe, Bailey opened the front door of her tiny studio apartment and a huge black-and-brown-stripped tabby with one ragged ear streaked inside. "Morning Evander. How's tricks?"
The cat trotted toward what the landlord had optimistically called the kitchenette and grumbled the feline equivalent of "Where's breakfast?"
Bailey poured food into his dish and smiled as he scarfed it down. The fractious feline had appeared on her doorstep one morning, battered and bloody, and she'd adopted him. Her bond with Evander was her first friendship that had ever lasted more than a few weeks. Moving three to five times a year hadn't allowed her friendships, even if she'd dared. Loneliness and suspicion had been constant, uneasy companions as far back as she could remember. The one close person in her life, her mom, languished in a hospital in San Francisco, partially paralyzed and mentally disoriented by a stroke. Bailey diligently squeezed ever nickel-twice-to maintain Rita Valentine's physical therapy, while saving toward the huge sum needed to move her north. Add in tuition loans and her own moving expenses, and she barely made ends meet. So what if she had to skimp on groceries? Thanks to Hollywood, thin was in.
She strolled into the bathroom and turned on the water in the small stall shower. The apartment didn't boast a tub, something she missed terribly. But as long as she could scrape up the rent, the shabby studio in an ageing neighborhood was all hers. No odd phone call, no chance sighting on the street would send her racing to pack and fleeing in terror to a new city. No matter what happened, she would stand her ground.
She would never run again.
Bailey stepped into the steamy stall. On a sunny Saturday morning, she could relax under the hot spray until the water went cold, a favorite indulgence. Someday, she would have a family and a cozy house with a luxurious whirlpool tub. Someday, she would have a husband to cherish, a man who would cherish her in return. A passel of rowdy kids who would experience the secure, carefree childhood she'd lacked.
Someday, she would belong.
She wasn't sure how, since she'd never had the privilege. She'd been a child born of secrets and lies. Her past had imprisoned her in loathing, fear, and isolation. Evander was her very first pet. Her very first friend.
She lathered her skin with body wash. She was a fast learner, though. You tended to learn fast when you were different. When you didn't dare bring a classmate home. She remembered watching giggling girls at various schools. Best friends, their arms around one another, planning sleepovers and sharing secrets. She'd longed to join in, but circumstances had forced her to remain at a distance. Though gregarious and out-going, she'd always had to stifle her true nature. She never dared get close to anyone. Never dared to invite anyone over.
Her secrets were too risky, too horrifying to confide.
With Evander, she could finally relax. Speak freely. No wariness about ulterior motives. No safeguarding every word. No worry about an accidental, terrifying slip of the tongue.
The fickle water supply suddenly went ice-cold. She barely had time to gasp before it surged back to hot. She and Evander were both wandering mongrels. He'd found someone to take him in. Would she? If she did, would she be able to set aside twenty-six years of conditioning and share herself with one other person? She knew what it was like to be truly, completely on her own. A relationship would require an element of trust she'd never been allowed to explore.
After too many years alone, she craved the opportunity.
She leaned against the misty shower wall, closed her eyes and let the drumming water soothe her. As they had too often lately, her thoughts wandered to Officer Hiei O'Rourke. With his gravity defying black hair, blood red eyes and sinfully sensual lips, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Bossy was the poster boy for bodacious hunks. Not to mention his ruggedly handsome face, hard-muscled physique and reflexes as fast and deadly as a timber wolf. Or a dragon.
But what intrigued her the most was his instinct to protect and save. Though he'd been livid with her that December night in the parking lot, her Dark Champion had unhesitatingly put his body between her and flying bullets. Then there was the emotional pain swirling in his wounded red eyes, the quiet suffering bracketing his stubborn mouth. Reading back issues of the local paper-something she always did in a new town to learn the history-had revealed the reason. Several dates with Marvin, the geeky clerk in the Riverside PD record room, had filled in the gaps. And her heart had broken for Hiei.
Too soon the water cooled. She stepped onto the turquoise-flowered bathmat and wrapped herself in a matching towel. Nine years ago, over half a million dollars had gone missing after an armored-car heist. Hiei's father was lead officer at the scene, and blame had fallen on him. The allegations were never proven, but his reputation had been soiled. He was taken off the streets and assigned permanent desk duty.
She blotted droplets from her skin. Before Brian O'Rourke could clear his name, he'd been murdered in an in home-invasion robbery. They'd never found his body, but the blood at the site-his own study-was abundant enough for the judge to rule him dead by homicide.
Bailey wiped condensation from the mirror and fluffed her curls with her fingers. A few of Brian's fellow police officers speculated that's he'd faked the murder and was living it up in a private paradise. Bailey didn't believe the rumors for a second. She studied her somber reflection, and empathy for Hiei ached in her chest. Her intuition was screaming off the scale. Responsible cops and devoted family men didn't just turn. She would uncover the truth. It was more than just another intriguing story. Brian O'Rourke deserved to rest in peace. And his wife and sons should not have to live in torment.
When she emerged from the bathroom, Evander wove between her ankles. "You smell a rat don't ya buddy?" Bailey bent to pet the cat and his uneven purr rumbled. The rat in question was a vicious crook named Sensui DiMarco. Sensui owned a security company that trained and supplied armed guards…who then gave him inside information for bank and home-invasion robberies. He was responsible for the bank robbery that had brought her and Hiei together. He'd been badly burned and shot in the head during the confrontation and had spent the six months under armed guard at Mercy Hospital's rehab facility.
She had put her computer skills to work and painstakingly unraveled an intricate web of dummy corporations owned by his security company. Corporations that were being hastily liquidated. DiMarco had suffered brain damage and was incapacitated. So where was the money going? And why?
Secrets and lies bought trouble. Caused pain. She'd become a reporter so she'd have an open forum to educate and help people. Her outgoing personality, verbal acuity and unerring instincts were perfect for the job, as well as a survival skill she'd picked up over the years…the ability to read people. She knew when someone wasn't quite what he or she seemed. Knew when someone was lying. DiMarco was the key to the puzzle she was trying to unlock. She knew it clear to her bones. Proving it, however, was a ways off yet.
After donning a purple bra and bikini undies, Bailey chose low-rider jeans and short-sleeved lavender peasant top from the lidded cardboard box parked at the foot of her mattress. Brian O'Rourke and Sensui DiMarco had known each other years ago. The link couldn't be a coincidence. Proving DiMarco's guilt might clear Hiei's father's name.
Grinning, Bailey slipped bare feet into warn white sneakers. Hiei O'Rourke thought he was a closed book, but he was easier to read than the Riverside Daily. He didn't detest her nearly as much as he pretended.
There was innate sensuality in the graceful way he moved. Compelling intensity hidden in the dark secrets of his eyes. Appealing assurance in his commanding presence. He made her heart beat faster, her knees weak, and her stomach do flip-flops. Just being near him was more exciting than riding the gigantic wooden roller coaster at Six Flags Magic Mountain. Every time they met, they sparred. And sparks flew.
Unlike him, she didn't try to disguise her interest. Not that it mattered. He didn't seem inclined to act on the attraction. She'd give up Lucky, her treasured green glass frog, to know why she didn't measure up. He wasn't seeing anyone on a regular basis. Attending the Seattle Star Trek convention with Marvin had left her fully informed in more ways than one, even if she did have to dress up like a Klingon. The three-hour drive e each way was a treasure trove of conversation.
She fastened on amethyst hoop earrings. On second thought, maybe Hiei's standoffish attitude was for the best.
If her cop knew what she was up to, he'd blow a gasket.
She wasn't sure how or when she'd started thinking of him as "her cop," but she couldn't seem to break the habit. Each time they met, the more he warned her away, the more proprietary she felt. Under his bluster, she saw hurt. Isolation. She new all about trying to hoe life's row all alone. She couldn't squelch the urge to hold him. Comfort him. She rolled her eyes. Yeah, the Big, Bad, Wolf would love the poor baby treatment. Not.
She tucked four boxes of Cracker Jack into the ancient, vinyl-lined canvas bag she called her survival kit. Not a traditional breakfast, but filling, energizing…and cheap when purchased at the dollar store.
She glanced down at Evander, trotting at her heels. "Caramel-covered popcorn and peanuts are as nutritious as sugar-coated cereal, right?" He chirped in agreement. She filled a water bottle at the tap, and then tucked it into her bag.
A light summer breeze drifted through the screened apartment windows, propped open several safe inches. She breathed in fresh morning air. Thank goodness she'd be out during the heat of the day, when the tiny room turned into an oven. Evander jumped onto a windowsill beside Lucky to snooze in the sun. She patted him. "Nap all day and prowl all night. You've got it rough pal."
Shouldering her bag, she headed out to her ancient, but reliable red Corolla. Determination swung in her stride.
She had a bank robber to interview.