Sweet Dreams Boxed Set

“You think the killer might be here, too, right?” Ivy asked.

For an instant, his eyes squeezed closed. Maybe he should have anticipated that she’d show up there. It had really only been a matter of time before she connected the guy’s white mask with the Order of Pharaoh’s ball.

Bennett had made the connection as soon as she told him about the mask, and he’d known that he would be scouting around that ball scene.

“When I saw Cameron’s mask, I knew the guy could be here tonight,” Ivy added.

His eyes snapped open. “And, what?” Bennett growled. “You thought you’d use yourself as bait here to lure out the killer?”

She blinked at him. “Oh, jeez, I hope not. I just thought I could look around and see if I saw any guys who matched his description.” She motioned to Cameron, and—as pretty much always—the guy bounded to her side.

Some things never change.

“You know identities are supposed to be kept secret in the societies,” she said.

God save him from this lunacy…Yes, he knew that.

“But since Cam is in the society, I thought he could identify anyone I saw—you know, men who fit the killer’s description. And when I knew who they were, I was going to call you.” She smiled at him. A big, wide grin that flashed the dimple in her left cheek. “Because, you know, I have your number.”

This had to stop. Absolutely stop. He felt like she was driving him to the edge of sanity.

His hold tightened on her. “You aren’t a cop.”

Her smile dimmed a bit. “I don’t remember claiming to be one. I am a PI, though. And private investigators…investigate. It’s kind of what we do. We don’t just sit at home and wait for someone else to solve all the crimes.”

Bennett could actually feel his blood pressure rising. “That woman was stabbed, Ivy. Again and again.”

She swallowed. “I know that.”

Cameron put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Bennett wanted to shove that hand away. Instead, he said, “This isn’t some game.” He looked at their group in disgust. “You’re all in way over your heads, and it’s time to go home. The party’s over.”

Hugh squared his shoulders. “I have a ticket to this ball. Do you, Detective?”

No, but he had his badge, and that would damn well be good enough.

“The only place I’m going,” Hugh continued, “is to get Shelly a drink.” He lifted the redhead’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “Shall we, my love?”

And the guy just strode away with his date, totally ignoring Bennett’s orders.

His eyes narrowed as he glared after Ivy’s twin. Mental note…Hugh was still an asshole.

And that left…

He focused on Ivy and Cameron. The couple most likely to wind up married, only they weren’t married. At least, some people had sure thought that. But those people had been wrong.

So was I.

“Ivy,” he began.

“I can’t get her out of my head,” Ivy said, her voice both soft and sad. Her smile was gone now. “I just wanted to look—I needed to look around. I was already scheduled to come to this ball, and when I figured out the link…Bennett, she was wearing her ball gown. She was supposed to be here tonight!”

Yes, that was why he had officers canvasing the convention center. That was why he was there. “I figured that out. I don’t need Nancy Would-Be Drew helping me run my case.” Especially when that help would just put her in danger. “Go home,” he ordered.

“Just let me look around!” She obviously wasn’t backing down. Same old Ivy.

Cameron pressed closer to them. “I don’t like the way you’re talking to Ivy.”

And he didn’t like the way that the guy was so close to her. They could both just be unhappy.

“I’m the only witness, remember?” Ivy pushed. “I’m here, let me look.”

Dammit…fine. She was the witness. And as much as he wanted to do it, he couldn’t physically carry her out. The PD wouldn’t go for that. “You stay at my side. Every single moment, got it? We look, but we look together.”

Her smile flashed again. “Thank you!”

“And Cameron…”

The guy’s brows climbed.

“You know everyone in the society?”

“I do,” he said at once, “but…you should realize anyone could have bought that mask. They’re sold at every party shop in town.” He waved his hand to the thick throng around them. “And you can rent a tux from dozens of shops. Get a ticket, get your tux…and boom, you’re set.”

Bennett knew that. With Mardi Gras season hitting hard, everyone seemed to be sporting a mask of some kind, and that kind of anonymity just worked to help the perp keep his identity hidden. The mayor was already freaking out. Murders during Mardi Gras were not good business, and he’d ordered Bennett to this ball before the ME had even loaded the victim’s body into the van.

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