“Now you’re just being mean.”
“If I were any good at being straight, I’d totally want to do you.”
“You’re not, though,” she said. “You suck at it.”
That made him laugh. With her, he had sucked at it. Usually, he managed just fine. Women had their charms. They didn’t fire him up the way men did—didn’t get under his skin or make him crazy with dirty, violent need—but that wasn’t altogether a bad thing. They were nice to look at, soft and willing. They stoked his ego, even when they barely took the edge off his lust.
“You got me on an off night. And for what it’s worth, you’re the first person in fifteen years to tell me so to my face.”
“So, what, you hired me because I’m, like, the anti–yes man?”
Judah slumped back into the couch, all humor abandoned. “No. I hired you because I need you to figure out who’s sending the messages.”
Another partial truth. He was 80 percent sure he knew who was sending the messages. He just needed somebody else to make him believe it, and more than that, to do something about it. He needed a push, and he wanted Katie to be the one to deliver it. If that made him a coward, so be it. He’d been called worse.
“We saw the fifth one,” Sean said.
You’re going up in flames.
His stalker had apparently tired of the holiday theme.
Judah crossed his legs, avoiding Sean’s eyes for a moment. “No one’s seen that one but me,” he said finally.
“But us,” Sean amended.
“Does it mean something?” Katie asked. “The flames bit?”
Another fake smile. I’m as clueless as you guys are. “I don’t know.”
Katie let her skepticism show. “We’re wondering if we should bring in the police.”
Judah spread his hands wide, palms up. “Look, I’m not going to tell you no on that, but I’m really hoping you won’t. This isn’t a police kind of thing. There’s no definitive threat, and what evidence I do have, the police wouldn’t have the first idea what to do with.”
“But they would at least investigate it,” Katie said. “You’re famous, Judah.”
“I know exactly what they’ll do. They’ll come by, take a statement, shake my hand, ask for a few autographs. Somebody will leak the threats to the media, and everybody will get a cheap thrill trying to decide what the messages mean and whether I’m secretly queer, and then the police will call me up after two or three weeks to tell me they’re keeping an eye on the situation, but there’s nothing much they can do.”
“And you think I can?” Katie asked.
“You’re the person who’s supposed to help me.”
“Supposed to according to who?”
He shrugged. “Just supposed to.”
“Like
… God? The Lord chose me to assist you?”
“No,” he said. “It was Jamie who told me to call Caleb. He’s a good singer, but he’s not the Almighty. It’s not like I hear celestial messages or anything.”
“Good thing.”
Judah grinned, but the smile faded as he played with the crease in his slacks. “It’s more like fate,” he suggested. “Or karma. I have no idea, Katie, honestly. I just know. It has to be you.”
If she weren’t long dead, his grandmother would be laughing so hard at him right now. She’d despaired of the way he ignored his instincts.
Jude, honey, you need to listen to what the universe is trying to tell you. You’re part of a bigger plan, and you won’t be happy unless you follow it.