by R K Close
“Because that same dead man was at the bar the other night. That same dead man came to your house. Have you discovered any wounds on your body?” he asked, deadpan.
“What?” I asked, my hand going to my chest. My heart started pounding like a scared rabbit, and the hairs on my skin stood on end. But not because of his odd question, but because in the back of my mind, it rang true and frightened me. I couldn’t say the word vampire out loud yet, but I think one of us was going to before the night was over.
Liam had merely added validity to a notion that I had refused to entertain—until now. I’d stepped back from Liam when he asked the question. Not that I felt he was a threat, but because I wanted to physically distance myself from the reality he was beginning to present.
“The campers both had puncture wounds on their throats and no other injuries to account for their blood loss. Do you believe in vampires, Jessica?” I backed up further, and Liam followed me until I hit the kitchen table. So, he knew about the cause of death, too.
“You had to say it, didn’t you?” I fumed. “More wine?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“I just asked you if you believe in vampires, and you ask me if I want wine?” He was standing so close, and his nearness was messing with all my senses.
“I never discuss...vampires without alcohol.” I slid to the right and away from him. I moved into the kitchen, pulled down my last two clean wine glasses because I wasn’t going out there to retrieve the other two. I needed the space to breathe and think. We were actually discussing vampires.
I poured two more glasses and picked them up to carry into the living room, almost running into my house guest in the process. Liam filled the small doorway into the kitchen with his broad shoulders and larger than life body.
Surprised, I almost dropped the glasses. To cover, I thrust his drink at him, causing some of the crimson liquid to splash out. It ran down the glass, onto my fingers, before landing on the floor. I ignored it.
He smiled at me and took the glass. “The answer is no. I don’t believe in vampires, but the notion would make a fascinating documentary. There are actually people who believe themselves vampires. It’s a whole subculture sort of thing,” I lied. The idea was becoming harder to deny, yet still seemed surreal and impossible.
I simply didn’t want to entertain the idea. It meant a walk on the dark side, and I wasn’t ready to go to crazy town just yet. He raised his eyebrows at me.
“Believing you’re something doesn’t make it real,” I said.
“Not believing in something doesn’t make it any less real,” Liam challenged, then turned to the side so I could squeeze by him.
“Touché, Captain McKenzie.” I was hypersensitive to my body brushing against his.
“So, for the sake of argument, let’s assume that this Lorenzo guy is a vampire, what would you do?” he asked. “The smart thing would be to leave it alone.” I felt Liam’s presence as he followed me into the small living room. It was like his aura was brushing against mine. If I believed in that sort of thing, which I didn’t. Or, I didn’t think I did. It went hand in hand with believing in vampires.
“I wouldn’t be an excellent reporter if I ran away from tough stories,” I said. I could tell he didn’t like my answer by the way the muscles tightened in his neck. “What I’d really like to know is how Liam McKenzie fits into this story.”
He became as still as a statue. A metaphoric clock was ticking loudly in my head, and I’m sure that I could hear a pin if it dropped.
Liam was tense again, and I was beginning to recognize the subtle nuances in his expressions. Soon, I’d be able to read those expressions faster than his verbal responses. I’d taken a class on reading body language, combined with facial expressions and what they meant. Liam’s body language was wary and defensive.
“There’s nothing to tell. I came across some information and wanted to warn you. This whole vampire thing is new to me. I’m no expert, but I do know there are things that exist, that defy explanation and maybe even science,” he said.
I stared at him. “Well, as luck would have it, my boss is insisting that I retract some of the comments I made in my report, especially the one that suggests Flagstaff has a killer on the loose,” I said, feeling angry. The community deserved to know the truth, despite the political fallout.
“I agree, but maybe the problem has already moved on,” Liam offered, cryptically.
I kept my gaze steady as I looked at him.
“Those two people deserve to have their story told. They deserve justice. And personally, I think it’s more likely that the dead guy never died. Somehow, he faked his death,” I suggested.
Liam shook his head, and a flash of sadness crossed his features, but only long enough for me to wonder if I’d really seen it. “You leave me no choice,” he said, standing. I watched, surprised, as he walked out the front door. I stared after him.
As I sat there wondering what just happened, he returned. Liam had a backpack over his shoulder, like something a college student would carry. I blinked at him in total confusion. I’m sure he could read it on my face.
“What are you doing?” I asked, a thread of panic seeping in.
“I’m staying the night. You won’t accept the real danger that you’re in, so I’ll stick around and make certain nobody comes for you, dead or otherwise.” There was a mixture of seriousness and humor in his expression.
I jumped up, when his intentions were clear. “You can’t stay here!” I demanded.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” he offered.
“You don’t fit, and...no!” I put my hands on my hips and set my chin—even though the thought of him spending the night made areas of my body burn with an invisible heat.
“Do you have a spare room, maybe?” he asked, looking toward the hallway, which was so small it could hardly be called a hallway.
“Yeah, the one filled with art. Liam, you can’t stay with me. Do you know how insane this sounds? This is not happening, so just take your backpack and go.” I tried to wave him to the door, but he didn’t budge, and then we were way too close again. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him.
“That’s okay. I have a sleeping bag and a pad in the truck. I’ll sleep on the floor.” He was not taking no for an answer, and it was infuriating and so darn sexy at the same time. I was one hot mess of a woman, conflicted on so many issues where he was concerned.
“Go get your sleeping bag,” I said.
He smiled at me, and my heart wanted to melt, then he turned and walked out the door again. He’d left his backpack on the floor. Before I could change my mind, I took his pack and put it outside the front door. My heart constricted painfully as I closed and locked the door—locking Liam McKenzie out of my house, and maybe metaphorically out of my heart.
15
I woke to my new ringtone, Happy by Pharrell Williams. It was going to be my new mantra if it killed me. There was a happy place somewhere between career and personal life, but my job was in the tank, and I had no personal life to speak of. I’d just locked out the only man I’d been attracted to in over a year...and in truth, I’d never felt this way about any man before.
Picking up the cell phone, I turned it off and laid in bed while I went through the unfortunate events from the day before. I felt terrible about locking Liam out of the house, but there was no way I was letting some guy I barely knew invite himself to stay the night—no matter how sexy-sweet he acted. And no matter how much I wanted him to stay. Hell, my hormones wanted to have his babies.
Still, I felt so guilty when I turned the lock and flipped off the porch light. I went as far as darkening down the house so there’d be no doubt. I just couldn’t let him stay the night, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d left me no choice. If he ever spoke to me again, maybe I could explain myself.
I prepared for work in a rush. Had to look my best, in case my career came to a screeching halt. If I was going down, I might as well
go down with class.
Brenda was most likely gloating. I’m sure she’d heard about the ass-chewing I’d received. That sort of news made it around the station faster than election stats.
Today, I’d do the walk of shame, before writing my retraction and choking it out on camera. Let’s see—a career in the toilet, any potential love-life also in the toilet, and either I have a brain tumor, or a dead guy really is stalking me. Doesn’t get much better than this.
And what was I supposed to do about Liam McKenzie? I didn’t even have time to think about that one. A dead guy stalking me might be easier to handle.
While I was lamenting on how much I was dreading this day, Daisy called.
I answered. “Hey, are you here already? I’m almost done. Give me a sec,” I said, in a rush. It was hard to hold the phone to my ear, finish buttoning my blouse, and slip on my heels at the same time.
“Do you know there’s a guy sleeping on your porch?” Daisy asked sarcastically.
No, no, no! Liam did not sleep on my porch last night—in this weather! It was freezing at night.
“You’re kidding me,” I said, running to the front window and peering sideways to see the porch.
“Nope. You officially have a squatter. Want me to call the cops?” Daisy asked.
Liam was stretched out on my porch on top of his sleeping bag, not even in it. He was laying on his back, fully dressed, with one arm thrown over his eyes. Why did his biceps have to look so nice?
“Jess, you there?” Daisy asked.
“Yes, I’m here, but don’t call the police. It’s just Liam,” I said, releasing an exaggerated sigh.
“That’s Liam?” Daisy said, sounding shocked.
“Yep. Give me a minute to talk to him, okay?”
“Why is Liam sleeping on your porch?” Daisy asked slowly.
“I locked him out last night, and he has this crazy idea that I’m in danger,” I said, ending the call.
I poured a cup of coffee, picked up my briefcase, and took another deep, calming breath before I stepped onto the porch. I had to be careful not to step on Liam’s sock-covered feet.
The noise from the door must have woke him, and he began to move a bit, still not removing his really big biceps from his face. The stubble on his jaw looked good, too.
Visions of him wearing nothing but a towel and that same morning stubble crept into my mind, and I squeezed my eyes shut to suppress the image. When I opened my eyes, Liam was staring lazily up at me.
“Is that for me?” he asked, pointing at the cup in my hand. I nodded and handed it to him. “You locked me out,” he accused in the soft, gravelly voice of someone who’d just woken.
“I did. And I’m sorry, but—”
“But you don’t trust me,” he finished. I nodded. “I get it. You’re smart not to trust people. You never know if someone is what they appear to be or not.” Liam had moved to a sitting position on the porch. He took a sip of coffee and watched me with smoldering bedroom eyes that made me want to call in sick and stay home—with him. Why did he have to be so thoughtful and caring and...too darn sexy for words? And after what I did.
“I want to trust you, Liam. I do, but I also know you have secrets. And trust isn’t built on secrets,” I said. He didn’t respond. “I’m really sorry for locking you out. Thank you for caring, but I’ll be fine on my own.”
I smiled weakly, then stepped carefully over him to get to Daisy’s idling car. The air was cold enough that the exhaust made passing clouds form. Daisy was watching me as I climbed in, her mouth hanging open. I’d stolen a quick glance at the house to find Liam holding his coffee while his gaze bore into mine.
“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do. I think this calls for donuts,” Daisy said, as she pulled away from the curb and drove down the street.
I tried not to look at Liam again, but somehow, I knew he was still watching as we drove away. I could feel his gaze like an invisible caress, and it made me imagine locking myself in a room with only him and ignoring the rest of the world forever.
And then I knew there was something wrong with my head. Either that or I was falling for Liam. None of these thoughts sounded rational. I’d never wanted anything like that with any other man. What was different about Liam?
WALKING INTO WORK THAT day was the hardest thing I’d done in a long time. Just as I knew they would, people continued to stare after greeting me with sympathetic gazes. Everyone but Brenda, that is. She was absolutely glowing with a fake smile plastered on her face. She made a beeline for me the moment I walked in. I was so not in the mood for her.
I ignored her when she called my name by unpacking my bag, placing my laptop on the desk, and organizing some papers. “Oh, Jessica! I heard about what happened, and I want to tell you that even though it was way out of line, and incredibly erroneous, your report was fabulous,” Brenda gushed. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard.
I returned her fake smile with one of my own. “Why thank you, Brenda. You’re so kind to say so. I’d love to chat, but I have a retraction to prepare for.” Brenda lounged lazily against the wall of my cubicle, holding a cup of coffee. When she made no effort to leave, I added, “If you don’t leave now, I’ll dump that cup of coffee all over your passive aggressive face.”
Brenda’s eyes bulged, and her lips parted in a completely shocked expression. She finally found her voice. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it,” Brenda huffed, as she turned on her heels and left.
I smiled. That had felt so good. If nothing else positive came out of that day, I’d be content with the memory of Brenda’s expression. Nobody stood up to her rude comments and bossy nature. I was sure to hear about it later.
I worked on my retraction for most of the morning. The wastebasket was filled with my failed attempts. It was difficult to write what I didn’t believe. Even harder to stand in front of a camera and say those empty words.
It was apparent that a killer was loose, and I explained that to Mr. Boss when he came down on me. He didn’t care that I didn’t have an official statement when I came to him with the story. Now that the crap was hitting the fan, I was a rogue reporter who ran with a story that wasn’t sanctioned by the station. Coward.
Daisy carried the almost empty pink box of donuts into my cubicle and plopped down in the only other chair. “How’s it going?” she asked, holding out the box to me. I took a jelly filled donut covered in messy white powder and bit into it.
Around a mouthful of donut, I replied, “Terrible. But I did just tell off Brenda.”
“That’s why she had that look on her face. I thought she ate something sour.” Daisy laughed, then her smile fell. “I’m sorry. I know you’re getting the short end of the stick on this one. Is there anything I can do to help, besides moral support and donuts?” Daisy said as she took a chocolate cake donut from the box.
“It is what it is. I knew the piece was risky, but it’s news, and it needed to be shared,” I said, slouching in my chair.
“You were given the green light. If Mr. Boss wasn’t so spineless,” Daisy said, lowering her voice. “Let’s film the retraction, turn it in, and go to the Burning Moon to drown your sorrows. The best Happy Hour in town.” Daisy said with a hopeful look on her face.
I smiled weakly.
“There’s nobody I’d rather drown with,” I said.
Daisy brightened. “Okay, let’s do this and be done with it.”
“You’re right. Let’s get it over with,” I said.
WITH A SINKING FEELING of wrongness, I filmed the retraction and apologized for making unsubstantiated assumptions about the deaths. It was all I could do to get it out, but we managed to get the film turned in for the nine o’clock news. My boss, the sheriff, the mayor, and Brenda Jeffery were happy. Everyone was happy except me.
I wanted to go home tonight and paint a dark, angry picture for therapy. After a couple of drinks, it would be good for a laugh the next day.
Daisy and I walked into the B
urning Moon just before happy hour ended. A guy named Fred was working the bar, and we ordered doubles before the prices changed back to normal. “Is Zoey working tonight?” I asked the bartender.
“Yeah, she’ll be in at eight,” he said, moving down the busy bar to take the next order.
I spun around on my bar stool and surveyed the crowd, just in time to see Cole walk in. The youngest brother was looking handsome in the typical laid-back Flagstaff style. I remember wondering if they handed out a welcome package of jeans, hiking boots, and flannel shirts at the visitor’s center. This time of year, even the women sported flannels.
Cole scanned the bar before noticing Daisy and me as we openly watched him. He seemed to blush but quickly gave us a big smile, before heading our way. “Looks like the McKenzie brothers are hard to avoid,” I said under my breath. Butterflies began to flutter in my stomach thinking Liam may be meeting Cole here.
“Thank god!” Daisy said, openly looking Cole over from head to toe. Cole didn’t seem to notice.
“Hello, ladies. Here for the happy hour?” he asked, taking the bar stool next to Daisy and angling it away from the bar so he could see us both.
“Maybe we’re trying to pick up guys, and you’re cramping our style,” Daisy said, and I covered a laugh when Cole’s eyes went wide before he realized she was teasing.
He smiled sheepishly. “I’ll gladly sit in the corner over there if I’m bothering you,” he said but made no move to leave.
“No need. We’re just blowing off some steam. You missed happy hour prices, though,” Daisy said, handing him one of her beers.
“Thanks,” he said, and they clinked their bottles together and took a swig at the same time.
“Are Liam and Seth meeting you here?” I asked, not looking at him and trying my best to appear aloof. When he didn’t answer, I looked over to find Cole and Daisy smirking at me, as if they knew what I was up to.