Sizzle and Burn
Page 27
“Oh, Zack.”
“Is that how it is for you? A bone-deep sense of connection?”
He was relentless.
She snatched the shower curtain out of his hand and yanked it closed far enough to conceal her naked body. She put her head around the edge and glowered.
“You know how I feel about you,” she said crossly.
“No, I don’t. I know you’re attracted to me and that we’re probably going to be linked for life by whatever this bond is that has developed between us but that’s all I know for sure.”
Exasperation flared. “For heaven’s sake, I started falling in love with you that first night in Shelbyville. You must have realized that. You’re a hotshot mirror talent, remember?”
He pulled the curtain back again, reached into the shower and hauled her out.
“Zack,” she yelped. “You’re getting all wet.”
He took her spa robe off the hook and bundled her into it. Then he pulled her close.
“Being a mirror talent doesn’t give me all the answers,” he said. He put his big hands under the wide collar of the robe and used it to capture and frame her face. “That’s especially true when it comes to the personal stuff. The nuance problem, remember?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I remember.”
“In this case it’s real personal. I didn’t start falling in love with you that first night in Shelbyville. I fell all the way. Hard. I knew you were the one the minute you opened the door of your room.”
She stared at him, stunned. “You did?”
“Marry me, Raine.”
She felt as if she had fallen off the edge of the world.
“That’s not possible,” she got out.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re going to be the next Master. There is no way you can marry the daughter of one of the Society’s most notorious outlaws. You know that. Your family and the Council would be horrified, to say nothing of J&J. You’ve got all that crap about tradition to worry about. The only feasible solution for us is an affair. And someday that will end because you’ll have to marry and—”
He silenced her by pushing her up against the closed door and kissing her with calculated deliberation. When she finally gave up struggling and more or less collapsed against him, he raised his head.
“There’s something you don’t seem to understand about the office of Master of the Society,” he said, his voice very rough around the edges.
She swallowed hard. “What?”
“The Master is the boss.”
“So?”
“So, as boss, I get to do whatever I want to do.”
“After what I read about my father in that J&J file you gave me, you’d have to rewrite history to make me acceptable to the upper echelons of the Society.”
He gave her a slow, sure smile. “Not a problem.”
Anxiety and frustration welled up inside. Why was he torturing her like this?
“There’s no way marrying me can be anything but a problem for you,” she said tightly. “And for me, too. I don’t want to be surrounded by people who are suspicious of me. It’s been hard enough trying to avoid having folks think I’m crazy.”
“Have a little faith, woman.”
“Zack, you have to be realistic. No one in the Society who knows anything about my past will trust me. I’ll be forever tainted by my father’s illicit activities. If you marry me, the Council might not make you the next Master.”
“Let me worry about that.”
“But you want the job.”
“Not as badly as I want you.”
She was dumbfounded. “You’d walk away from the Master’s Chair for me?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“Zack.”
He laughed. “But you’d probably feel guilty if I did that, so I won’t. I’ll just make certain that I get the job instead. Easier that way.”
“What about the matchmakers at arcanematch-dot-com?”
“They’re the ones who screwed up by matching me with Jenna, remember? I sure as hell don’t intend to give them a second chance to find me the perfect wife.”
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Given my recent personal history, marriage is one subject I take very, very seriously.”
She drew a deep breath, trying to retain a hold on common sense. “This has all happened so fast. We’ve only known each other a few days, and under very stressful circumstances.”
He gave her a considering look. “You know, if you’d been raised within the Society, you’d understand that this link between us is very, very special.”
She raised her chin. “As has been noted on more than one occasion, I wasn’t raised within the Society.” She widened her hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. Haven’t got a clue.”
“You do know that you want me, though, right?”
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Yes, I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life.”
“That’s enough for now.”
He unzipped his pants.
She looked down, startled to realize that he was fully erect. A wave of heat rushed through her. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t resist you when you’re all damp from the shower like this. Gets me hot.”
“Gosh, I could have sworn you said it was my hearing voices that got you hot.”
“That, too. Pretty much everything about you gets me hot.”
She expected him to carry her back to the bed. Instead, he reached inside her robe, gripped her rear and lifted her straight off her feet. Instinctively, she clutched his shoulders to steady herself.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he said against her throat. The words were dark and soft and a little hoarse. “Tight.”
Excitement mingled with shock, creating an erotic thrill that danced through all her senses.
She enclosed him between her thighs. He held her in place with one arm around her back. With his other hand he teased her mercilessly until she was soaking wet and desperate for him.
He braced her against the door. Then he was deep inside, impossibly full and hard. The feel of him was a delicious shock to her wildly excited senses. She sank her nails into his shoulders as he stroked rapidly in and out.
The release rocked through her almost immediately, leaving her voiceless and breathless. When he climaxed a few seconds later she knew he had been deliberately holding back, waiting for her to come first.
When it was over they remained locked in each other’s arms for several long moments, breathing hard, recovering.
Then, very deliberately, Zack lowered her to her feet. He adjusted the robe around her very tenderly, gave her an understanding smile and patted her on top of her head.
“I agree,” he said. “You’ve been under a lot of stress. You need time to get used to the idea of having me around.”
Outrage replaced the warm afterglow. How dare he pat her on the head?
“You’re right.” She narrowed her eyes. “I do need time to think. Lots of time.”
“Fine. But I’m warning you, the bond between us is only going to get stronger. You won’t be able to ignore it.”
She raised her brows. “How do you know that?”
“I’m psychic.”
He kissed her on the tip of her nose and walked out of the bathroom.
Half an hour later, feeling only slightly more composed, she opened a can of cat food. Batman and Robin reacted to the sound of the can opener the way ancient sailors responded to the call of the sirens. They trotted enthusiastically across the kitchen to sit at her feet, gazing up at her and the open can of food with worshipful expressions.
She looked down at their little masked faces. Out of nowhere Vella’s words flashed through her head.
“Everyone wears a mask,” she said softly.
Zack was at the counter, making coffee. He gave her an inquiring look.
“What?” he asked.
“I think I know what Aunt Vella meant when she said to look behind Wilder Jones’s mask.”
Fifty-six
Zack’s phone rang just as he brought the car to a halt in the drive in front of the Shelbyville house. He shut down the engine and took the call.
Raine waited, watching the gloom-drenched house through the rain-splattered windshield. Eventually Zack hit the end button.
“That was Mitchell,” he said.
“Yes, I gathered that much.” Raine turned toward him. “Bad news?”
“For Cassidy Cutler and Niki Plumer, yes. Both of them are showing signs of severe mental disorientation and confusion. A psychiatrist has been called in to evaluate the situation. I didn’t tell Mitchell, but given J&J’s recent experience with Nightshade operatives, both women are probably going to get steadily worse.”
Raine shuddered. “And there’s nothing anyone can do.”
“No,” Zack said. “Not a damn thing. But Mitchell told me something very interesting. Before she started cracking up, Niki Plumer did a lot of talking. She was enraged because she thought Cassidy Cutler was setting her up to take the fall.”
“For trying to kidnap me?”
“No,” Zack said. “For staging those spectacular murders that she wrote about in her books.”
“Good grief. Cassidy killed those people herself?”
“And then set up the suspects for the police to find, according to Niki.”
Horror shot through Raine. “Those people who were arrested for those ghastly murders—they’re all innocent?”
“According to Niki they are.” Zack smiled slightly. “Luckily, thanks to the molasses-like speed of the criminal justice system, none of them has made it as far as the death chamber. You’d better believe Mitchell is excited.”
“I’ll bet he is. If Niki told him the truth, he’s just been handed the career-making case of the decade. There’s a book and probably a movie deal, as well, in this thing.”
“He said Plumer gave him more than enough to open an investigation. With luck and maybe a little discreet help from J&J, in a few months Mitchell will be the hero who solved several front-page crimes and got some innocent people out of jail.”
“Amazing.” She had been dreading the return to Shelbyville for the entire drive from Oriana but now she was suddenly feeling a lot more cheerful. “I sure hope Niki wasn’t lying.”
“I think there’s a good chance she was telling the truth.” Zack unfastened his seat belt and reached into the backseat for his jacket. He pulled it on over his shoulder holster. “She didn’t have any motive to implicate herself in those murders.”
“Good point.” She unclipped her own seat belt, grabbed her long black raincoat and opened the door. “On that note, let’s go see if I’m right about Wilder Jones’s mask.”
They walked quickly through the misty rain toward the entrance to the house. It was colder than it had been the last time she was there, Raine thought. The looming trees whispered in anticipation of snow.
A strip of shredded crime-scene tape fluttered from one of the posts that supported the roof over the front door. Raine paused on the step and dug out her keys.
“You’re sure it’s okay to go inside?” she asked.
“When I called Langdon this morning he said the forensics people had finished. He didn’t have any problem with us going back into the house.”
She opened the door. Cold shadows illuminated the small entry hall.
Zack looked around curiously. “Where did you pick up the bad vibes last time?”
“The kitchen and the basement. The killer used the back door.”
They went past the fireplace that Vella had never used and up the stairs to the second floor. Because of her injured ankle, Raine was forced to use the banister to steady herself. She dimmed her senses as much as possible. Nevertheless, she would have preferred not to touch the wood with her bare hand. Although Vella had not left any intense hot spots, the heavily used surfaces in the house, such as railings and doorknobs, resonated faintly with the disturbing echoes generated by years of her depression, anxiety and despair.
Zack put his hand on the banister and immediately withdrew it. “I can see why you don’t like this house very much.”
“I wish I could sell it quickly but I’m afraid that’s going to be next to impossible now. Unfortunately, the taxes don’t stop just because the owner is deceased.”
“Tell your real estate agent to look for a client who is interested only in the property, one who won’t mind tearing down the house and building a new one.”
“Good idea,” she said.
“You won’t get nearly as much for the place, probably a fraction of its worth, but at least you’ll be out from under the taxes.”
“That’s all I care about now.”
She hobbled to the top of the stairs and limped down the hall to the bedroom that Vella had used. The door stood ajar. She pushed it open and went inside.
The interior of the small room was even gloomier than the rest of the house. The drapes were drawn across the windows. Raine reached out to flip on the lights, automatically bracing herself for the psychic static she knew would be clinging to the switch.
Zack’s hand closed abruptly around her wrist, stopping her. Startled, she turned toward him, mouth open to ask why he did not want the lights.
He shook his head once and put his fingertips to her lips.
Then she, too, heard the faint sound from downstairs. Someone had opened the kitchen door. Tension sizzled through her. Instinctively her parasenses opened wide.
“Miss Tallentyre?” Doug Spicer called. “It’s me, Doug, from Spicer Properties. Where are you?”
Zack took his fingers from her mouth. Raine didn’t realize how tense she had been until she suddenly went limp with relief. Too much stress lately, she thought.
“My real estate agent,” she explained.
She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm her overhyped nerves, and went out onto the landing. Gripping the railing, she looked down. Zack came to stand beside her. Doug Spicer was at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the newel post. His leather briefcase was clutched tightly in his other hand.
“Hello, Doug,” she said. “We just came to collect a few things of my aunt’s.”
He gave her a genial smile. “Saw Chief Langdon at the café this morning. He mentioned that you and a companion had phoned and told him you were on your way up here today.” He switched his attention to Zack. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Doug Spicer.”
“Zack Jones,” Zack said.
Doug nodded and turned his attention back to Raine. “I thought I’d drop by and let you know that I’ve had a nibble on the house. It’s not a very impressive offer, I’m afraid, but under the circumstances, I strongly recommend that you consider it.”
“Are you kidding? I’ll take it, whatever it is. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that someone actually wants to buy this place.”
“The buyer is from the Seattle area,” Doug said. “Looking for a weekend house in the mountains. I was going to fax the offer to you today but since you’re here, we might as well deal with it now.”
“I’ll be right down.”
“Fine. We can work at the kitchen table. I’ll get the papers ready.”
He tightened his grip on his briefcase, turned and walked briskly toward the kitchen.
“Looks like this is my lucky real estate day,” Raine said, starting down the stairs.
Zack caught her wrist, halting her on the top step.
“Wait here,” he said softly.
She looked at him in surprise as he went quickly past her. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he flattened his hand on the newel post where Doug’s palm had been a moment earlier.
He snatched his fingers away from the wood. He swung around and started back up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered. “Not my lucky day, after all.”
“The bedroom,” he said into her ear. “Hurry.”
Gritting her teeth against the pain radiating from her weak ankle, she struggled to keep up with him.
They made it to within a foot of the bedroom doorway before her ankle betrayed her. She lost her balance. Zack’s grip on her wrist kept her from sprawling but she nevertheless went down hard on one knee.
She glanced over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of Doug Spicer through the opening between two of the banister posts. He was just inside the kitchen, using the doorway for cover.
“Witch!” he screamed. He raised one hand.
Before she could process the scene and make sense of it, Zack fell on top of her, crushing the breath from her lungs. She registered a loud staccato drumbeat of noise and felt a violent shudder go through Zack.
Cold fire splashed violently through her senses. She knew intuitively that she was sharing Zack’s psychic reaction to the bullet that had slammed into him.
“Zack.”
He was moving, rolling with her into the bedroom. A second flurry of shots crashed through the house. She heard wood splinter.
The sensation of icy fire dissipated. She knew Zack had somehow clamped down on his senses.
Flat on his belly, he leaned through the opening and fired twice.
“Can’t get a clear shot from here,” he said, his voice low and harsh. “Have to wait until he comes up the stairs.”
There was a long pause from down below. Then Spicer’s voice, unnaturally shrill, reverberated up the staircase.
“Only one way to kill a witch,” he yelled from the kitchen.
Raine glanced at Zack. Beneath the open edge of his leather jacket she could see a terrible red stain on the side of his shirt.
She started to move toward him.
He motioned her toward the window. “We’ll go out that way.”
“You’ve been hit. I need to stop the bleeding.”
“Not now. Got to prioritize here.”
“What are you talking about?”