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“She's like them.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Yeah, she can communicate with the dead, too.” Steve frowned. “Why?”

Daniel didn't answer as he watched Jamie. He’d known Caroline and Lana had a younger sister, but they’d never met. He'd been around them plenty of times, but neither had ever caused a reaction like this. What the hell was so different about Jamie?

He didn't have a damn clue, but he sure as hell intended to find out.

CHAPTER 11

Kent sat on his motorcycle across the street from the restaurant, giving him a clear view of everyone coming and going. A light drizzle had started a few minutes earlier, just enough to be annoying as hell. Not that a little rain bothered him, but he could think of better ways to spend his evening than sitting outside some fancy-ass restaurant getting wet. Still, Sloan had given him a job to do, and he intended to do it right.

His attention settled on a man standing near the entrance who looked more annoyed by the minute. The guy kept checking his watch, glancing down the sidewalk, then checking the damn thing again. Kent figured this had to be Danny Jackson. With his expensive-looking suit, neatly combed hair, and the way he carried himself, the man looked exactly like what Kent pictured a CPA would look like. He sure as hell wasn't the type of man he'd imagined Dawn going out with. She'd eat the poor bastard alive, and for some reason, that thought amused him.

At least until he spotted Dawn hurrying up the sidewalk from where she'd parked.

Kent's amusement disappeared as he watched Danny give her a slow once-over before saying something that made her laugh. Whatever the asshole had said must have been pretty damn funny because Dawn was still smiling when he placed his hand against her lower back and escorted her inside.

What the fuck?

Kent frowned, irritated by the sudden anger that had him gripping the handlebars tighter than necessary. The guy hadn't done anything wrong, and Dawn certainly hadn't. She was a grown woman who could date whoever the hell she wanted. Yeah, he was attracted to her, but he'd been attracted to plenty of women over the years. It wasn't anything new, and there was no damn reason she should be any different.

Except apparently she was, because watching another man put his hands on her had pissed him the fuck off.

He shifted on his bike, annoyed with himself as much as the situation. He'd dealt with dangerous men, fought battles most people couldn't begin to imagine, and here he was getting worked up over some fucking accountant taking a woman to dinner. It was ridiculous, and he knew it.

Glancing toward the restaurant again, Kent took in the large windows, soft lighting, and small tables where couples sat enjoying what appeared to be a romantic evening. Candles, flowers, the whole damn works. He hadn't paid much attention to the place when he'd arrived, but now that he was looking, it was pretty fucking obvious what kind of restaurant Danny had chosen.

Of course the asshole had picked somewhere romantic.

Then Kent noticed the fancy lettering above the entrance.

The Gilded Fig.

He snorted.

What in the hell was a gilded fig, and who the fuck named a restaurant after a goddamn fig? Was the fucking thing dipped in gold before they served it? And who the hell wanted to eat at a place named after a fruit that looked like a shriveled-up ball sack?

Probably charged a hundred bucks for a steak the size of a postage stamp, then had the nerve to call the three drops of sauce beside it a fucking masterpiece.

Kent shook his head in disgust, his gaze returning to the windows as the drizzle continued to dampen his clothes. He didn't give a shit how fancy the place was or how much money Danny Jackson planned on spending to impress Dawn. None of that mattered.

What mattered was making sure she was safe.

And if the asshole happened to keep his fucking hands to himself, that would be just fine with Kent too.

Surprised by the direction his thoughts had taken, Kent pushed them aside and scanned the surrounding area for anything suspicious before returning his attention to the restaurant. Through the large windows, he spotted Dawn sitting at a table with the CPA asshole. They were near the far window, but from where he sat, his view of the other diners was limited. Without starting his bike, he rolled farther up the street until he had a better angle, giving him a clear view of Dawn and several of the tables surrounding hers.

The warm orange glow of candlelight spilled through the windows onto the wet sidewalk as people hurried past, trying to get out of the rain. Kent barely paid them any attention until a vehicle pulled up behind him. One glance in his side mirror had him cursing under his breath.

A fucking cop.

Thankfully, the cruiser didn't have its lights flashing, but that didn't stop the officer from climbing out and approaching him. Kent remained on his bike with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the man size him up as if he were trying to decide whether he was trouble.

“You having bike problems?”

“No, sir.” Kent kept his tone respectful, although he could already tell this conversation was going to be a pain in his ass.

“Is there a reason you're parked here?” The officer moved closer to the curb as a car passed, his attention never leaving Kent.