Krewe of Hunters, Volume 3: The Night Is WatchingThe Night Is AliveThe Night Is Forever

by Heather Graham

  “Oh, we wouldn’t do that, Agent Blake.”

  “And I intend to pay for every night, whether I’m in the room or not.”

  She giggled. “Not to worry. We’ve got your credit card number. The management definitely intends to make you pay. I was just checking that you’re all right. Because, of course, everyone knows what happened today!”

  “Everyone knows...what?”

  “You’re a hero! You saved Aaron Bentley’s life!”

  He winced. “No, Ellie, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m not a hero. The real heroes are the nurses and doctors and paramedics who save lives every day. I’ve taken a few classes in emergency procedures, that’s all. Pretty basic stuff. And it was more a matter of right time, right place.”

  “Yeah? Maybe I should take a class.”

  “Knowing first aid is always a good idea—for anyone.”

  “Yeah. Well, Coot says hello. He says he misses you and that you should go to the café for breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Tell him I’ll try to make it.”

  He put his cell away and hesitated for a minute; instinct really did count for a lot in his field. His instincts told him it would be quiet tonight. Or maybe it was pure logic—if the killer didn’t want to be caught, he or she would lie low for a while.

  He walked to the stairs and paused there. “Marcus?” he said aloud. But he hadn’t sensed the presence of the ghost. And Marcus didn’t respond.

  It was quiet on the second floor. He went into the bedroom and placed his Glock within easy reach on the nearby table. He prepared for bed, then prowled the room anxiously before he settled down to sleep. He was glad Malachi was coming with more Krewe members tomorrow. His concentration was at a low point, maybe because he’d figured out he was a fool. Everything wasn’t forever; everything didn’t need to mean something. Adults encountered one another in life, enjoyed physical relationships, moved on....

  Yes. Hell, yes, it happened all the time. Didn’t make people enemies; didn’t naturally make them lasting friends or lovers, but...

  Sometimes the attraction was too strong, too much was expected, he told himself. And in those situations, getting involved was a mistake.

  Oh, bull. He’d been an idiot to turn her down.

  As he lay there, he heard her door open and close. She was going downstairs. He waited for a few minutes and leaped to his feet. There was nothing that suggested a break-in; he was certain he would have heard.

  He left the room and walked to the landing. Sammy was sleeping there. He raised his head, wagged his tail when he saw Dustin and went right back to sleep.

  Nothing could be wrong if the dog was so sedate and unconcerned, but still...

  Barefoot, he moved quickly and quietly down the stairs. As he rounded the staircase, he saw her in the kitchen, wearing a robe, something that clung to her body like silk, making a cup of tea.

  “Uh, hello,” he said, wishing he’d grabbed a robe himself rather than running down in his boxers.

  “You all right?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said thickly. “I just heard you down here.”

  She stared at him. “Tea,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Me, neither.”

  She let the tea bag fall into the cup and, grinning, walked up to him. If a man could emit sexual desire like sweat, he’d have been drenched. He didn’t move. He was afraid to—for several reasons. There was the way he felt. There was his lack of attire. She was so close he could breathe in her scent, and if he moved, he’d have to touch her.

  “This is ridiculous,” she said.

  “This?”

  “Us. Here. Not, um...not. You and me...not?”

  “I know,” he said.

  “You do?”

  “I agree.”

  “I mean, after all,” she told him seriously, “I’m quite prepared. I’m on birth control. It doesn’t make sense for two people to abstain when the desire is there. And, well, it’s the age of Fifty Shades of Grey—and...I want to have sex.”

  “Hmm. Just sex?”

  “Yes, just sex.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?”

  “What kind of sex?” he asked, but he knew she saw the grin twisting his lips.

  He thought she was about to say normal sex. But she stopped herself and moved a fraction of an inch closer, her presence touching him without touching him, the heat of her excitement reaching out to him.

  “Mmm,” she said softly, eyes alight. “Let’s see. Hot, steamy, passionate, wet, sweaty sex? Energetic, explosive...sensual, vital, vibrant, amazing, incredible... The kind that makes you forget everything else in the world.”

  “Okay,” he said. Still, he didn’t touch her. Not yet. Then he asked, “Did you want that once—or twice? If you’d like it twice, I’ll do my very best to oblige.”

  “Something tells me you’re up for the job—and that you’ll be pretty good.”

  “Just pretty good?”

  “Possibly excellent. This is all still theory, you know?”

  “Theories need to be tested,” he said. “That’s the only way to prove them.” He didn’t know which one of them moved first. She eased up on her toes; he crushed her into his arms. He found her mouth and kissed her, trembling in his effort to control the force of everything he wanted. She returned the kiss and it was passionate...and hot, wet, steamy. His hands were on her and the robe seemed to slide from her skin in slow motion. She was naked beneath; maybe she’d been dreaming of him, of this, before she felt the urge for tea. Maybe she’d even hoped he’d come down.

  Maybe didn’t matter. They were together. Everything in the kitchen—pots, pans appliances—seemed to evaporate. He slid down the length of her body where they stood, his kisses covering her flesh, his fingers sweeping along it. Desire stoked energy, and each time his lips touched a new inch of her, it seemed as though something gripped him and shook him and wouldn’t let him go. He felt her hands on his shoulders, heard her sweet urgent whispers and sought her with ever greater intimacy. She trembled, crying out at last, as she slipped into his arms. Their mouths met in another kiss and he lifted her up, seating her on the counter. She was breathless and beautiful, lips parted softly, eyes intense with sensuality.

  He moved against her, thinking about his boxers, but somehow he’d lost them; he couldn’t recall when. Something on the counter crashed to the floor. Neither of them paid any heed. They just began to move, clinging to each other.

  He’d wanted her. He denied himself, and now...

  The excitement, the urgency, was almost unbearable. His muscles ached and trembled, and everything in him—muscle, flesh, blood—felt the building explosion.

  It was inevitable; the moment of climax came and seemed to roar through him with the shattering force of a windstorm. He’d tried to hold out...and yet he felt her fall against him, heard the lyrical tone of her cry as she held him tight, shaking, all but melded to him.

  And there they were, on the counter in her kitchen. Tremors continued to rack his body so that he almost feared he wouldn’t be able to stand.

  He smoothed back her damp hair, feeling awkward because, as he’d feared, somehow it wasn’t just sex, although it had been incredible sex.

  “I think we nailed the sweaty,” he told her, trying to lighten the mood.

  He felt her smile before she pulled away to look up at him. Her arms locked around his neck as she leaned her head back.

  “Pretty good on the passionate, too,” she said.

  “And vital, I think.”

  “Oh, yes.” Her smile deepened.

  “Did you want to give our theory a second go-round?”

  “There’s nothing like checking and rechecking the facts,” she agreed.

  “Always important,”
he said.

  She slid off the counter and into his arms. He ducked down to retrieve his boxers and her robe. They ran up the stairs.

  Olivia stopped on the landing, and he nearly plowed into her. He looked over her shoulder.

  Sammy had raised his head again. Once more, he wagged his tail—and promptly went back to sleep.

  “Thank God!” he said. “I wonder where I’d be if the dog didn’t approve.”

  She laughed, caught his hand and led him into her darkened room. The moon was almost full and its opaque glow seemed to shine like a strange and magical blessing.

  He fell into bed beside her and felt her hands moving over him, felt the unrestrained passion of her kisses.

  “Wow,” he murmured.

  “Hmm.”

  “Are you ready to try this again?”

  “Hmm...”

  * * *

  “I know it’s a cliché, but...I think the earth moved,” she said solemnly. She rose up on her elbows. Her hair cascaded around her face. He marveled again at her stunning beauty, and he marveled that they were together.

  He lay with his hands laced behind his head. He smiled. “Really? The earth moved?”

  She shrugged. “Who knows? They might’ve been digging in a nearby mine.”

  “Are there nearby mines anymore?” he asked her.

  “Oh. Maybe not. So the earth moved, and...”

  He supported himself on one elbow, facing her. “And?”

  “And it was even better than that,” she told him.

  “Oh?”

  “I forgot the world,” she whispered.

  He pulled her back into his arms. The moon shined on.

  They might forget the world when they were together like this, but reality always came back soon enough.

  As if sensing his thoughts she sighed softly. “Nothing compares to a night like this.” She smiled. “Our theory was a good one.”

  “Theories should always be thoroughly proven,” he whispered. “Are you interested in some more fact-checking?”

  Her eyes were absolutely hypnotic and dazzling in the moonlight. “I’ll do my best to oblige,” she said.

  And she did.

  14

  When morning arrived, Olivia was glad they’d enjoyed such an incredible night. And glad that they’d slept in each other’s arms.

  In the morning, Dustin explained that he’d talked to Ellie over at Willis House and that she’d said Coot wanted him to show up for breakfast.

  “Sounds like a plan,” she told Dustin. “The café has a great Sunday brunch. But I wasn’t aware you’d gotten to know old Coot so well.”

  “Can’t say I know him that well,” Dustin responded. “But I’ve spent some time talking to him and he seems like a savvy guy. He watches the people around him. He appears to be an elderly gentleman simply enjoying the beauty of the countryside as his later years slip by. People wouldn’t expect him to be as observant as he really is.”

  “So, we’ll meet Coot for breakfast,” Olivia said.

  Before they left, they let Sammy run around the yard for a while, and Olivia lavished some affection on the dog.

  Delilah called out a greeting to them as they entered the café and indicated that Coot was sitting in a booth toward the rear. They waved to her and slid into the booth with Coot.

  “Morning,” he told them. “I’m just enjoying a ‘Liv’ here. Mighty good coffee. And I’m glad to see you two young people looking so healthy. That was something, what I heard about yesterday morning!”

  “Far too much excitement for a camping trip,” Dustin said.

  Coot shook his head.

  “Could’ve been much worse.” Delilah served some tourists at the counter, then came bustling around to see them. “Why, honey, I am so proud of you!” she said to Dustin. “What you did was amazing.”

  As he lowered his head, Olivia realized that she was loving more and more about the man; he was uncomfortable when people put him on a pedestal. He glanced at her and a little smile came to his lips. “I think we decided that the ‘amazing’ actually went to you,” he whispered.

  She blushed, hoping the others hadn’t heard. Dustin looked up at Delilah. “Honestly, it was nothing more than simple first aid, but thank you, Delilah. I’d love to have a ‘Liv’ this morning.”

  “Me, too,” Olivia said. “And I’d also love your Sunday-morning hash and—oh, Dustin! If you haven’t had them yet, you have to try the cheese grits. They’re the best in the South, I swear.”

  “Well, then, two ‘Livs,’ two orders of corned beef hash and two orders of cheese grits,” Dustin said.

  “Don’t forget the biscuits,” Coot added.

  When Delilah was gone, Dustin turned to Coot and asked softly, “You know something?”

  “Can’t rightly say I know anything,” he said. “But I just figured, what with everything that’s going on, any small thing might be important.”

  Dustin nodded. “Yes, you’re right.”

  Coot glanced at Olivia. “A bunch of those boys from Parsonage House were in here last night, with one of their monitors. I was sitting at a booth reading the paper.” He shook his head sadly. “Aaron is great with those boys but I guess everyone over at the Horse Farm is kind of on the ‘watch and wait’ list.”

  Olivia cringed and stared down at the table. “The monitor was reading a book, not paying much mind to the boys. They were talking about the camping trip.”

  “And they said something,” Dustin said, gently urging Coot to go on.

  “Yeah, they were trying to reconstruct things for themselves,” Coot told them.

  “What did they talk about?”

  “Who was where when. Seems Joey saw you go flying out of the tent when everyone heard the scream. He scrambled out himself. He saw Olivia—and she grabbed Drew and they ran off.”

  “That’s pretty much what happened,” Olivia said.

  “They went on to talk about it, and they said there was one person they didn’t notice until Dustin asked about Aaron. She must’ve been gone for a while, ’cause she came back to the group late,” Coot said.

  “Sandra?” Olivia asked.

  Coot looked at her. “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “She was the only other ‘she’ there.”

  “They didn’t see her crawl out of the tent?” Dustin asked.

  “They might have—they’re not sure. But they’re certain they didn’t see her the whole time. They all mulled it over for a while, but then, of course, they started saying they couldn’t be positive, so they’d best not say anything.”

  “Thanks, Coot.” They all fell silent as Delilah came over with their food.

  “There you go,” she said, setting down the plates, which were garnished with melon and apple slices. “Now you two eat up. I’m glad you ordered big. This isn’t a morning to be snacking on nothing but tomato juice and a few wedges of fruit. The body needs nourishment.”

  “It looks wonderful, and we’re going to enjoy every fattening bite of it,” Olivia assured her.

  “You burn energy like a bird in flight, Liv,” Delilah said. “Speaking of juice—want some?”

  “Sure, juice sounds great,” Olivia replied. “That will make it a bit healthier, right?”

  “That’s exactly what I told Sandra Cheever last night. She said she’d been sitting at the hospital for hours and was going back—but that she had to have something besides hospital food.”

  Coot frowned. “Sandra was here last night? I didn’t see her.”

  “Oh, she came in before you and the boys.” Delilah made a dismissive gesture. “First she says she has to have some good food—then she turns her nose up at my menu, saying I didn’t have healthy choices. Why, I told her to have some ju
ice and a salad and she said I needed fat-free dressings!”

  As she spoke, the door to the café opened again.

  Frank Vine came in. He nodded to the tourists at the counter and walked back to join them in the booth.

  “Strong coffee, Delilah, please,” Frank said as he slid in next to Coot. “Morning, everyone.”

  They all greeted him, and Delilah asked, “That’s it, Frank, just coffee?”

  Frank nodded. When she’d left, Frank looked at all of them.

  He inhaled loudly and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Aaron Bentley is dead,” he told them.

  * * *

  Accident. Like hell.

  Dustin stood in Aaron Bentley’s bathroom, studying the scene.

  Aaron had insisted he get out of the hospital that morning, and he’d been deemed well enough to go home. No problem; a cop had stayed outside his house.

  Then, according to the police officer who’d been watching the house, there was a loud hissing sound and the house seemed to glow and then went dark.

  He’d rushed in. Aaron had been alone in the bathtub, dead. Somehow, he hadn’t had the sense not to place his iPod charger on the back of the commode—next to the tub. It was ridiculous. He’d been saved from drowning only to die in his bathtub—electrocuted.

  Dustin still couldn’t believe the man had died so stupidly. Or that such a death could have been an accident. According to the crime scene tech who’d first escorted him through, Aaron Bentley must have reached for the iPod to change it—but knocked the whole system into the tub. It had been plugged in. Electricity had raced through the water like wildfire.

  There was nothing in the bathroom to suggest that anyone else had been with him. Dustin’s first question, of course, had to do with Sandra Cheever. She’d been so determined that she was going to stay with Aaron. Where the hell had she been?

  According to Sandra—and there were witnesses to verify that it was true—she’d dropped Aaron at home and gone, at his suggestion, to check on things at the Horse Farm. She’d promised to be right back. But by the time she’d returned, the officer on duty had already flown into the house—breaking the lock to get in.