by Jane Godman
“Carly,” Reece said. His throat bobbed and his eyes darkened, taking on a predatory gleam.
A thrill shot directly to her core. Her breasts grew heavy, nipples tightening. She tugged open the zipper on her jeans, shoved them down her legs along with her panties and kicked free of the last of her clothing.
“We’re in this together,” she told him, then shot him a teasing smile. “I hope you replaced the condom in your wallet.”
He nodded and pulled her against his solid frame. “I did.”
* * *
Declan closed his mouth hungrily over Carly’s, and in an instant he was lost in the sweetness of her lips. His hands moved over her lithe body, skin warm and soft beneath his touch. She groaned, arching against him. His cock throbbed against the constriction of his jeans. He needed to get naked, to get insider her, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching her.
Whatever she’d said, whatever came next, he hadn’t given up on getting her away from this place and somewhere safe. But he would have this, her, before she was gone.
Wrapping one arm around her waist while he tugged his shirt over his head with his other hand, he urged her back, until she bumped the edge of the desk. He lifted her onto the gleaming wood, then shimmied out of his jeans.
She leaned back, breasts lifting temptingly. Her hungry gaze moved over him, and she nipped her lip. “My God, I do like the look of you.”
“Believe me,” he said, with a low chuckle. “The feeling’s mutual.”
He leaned down and sucked one pink nipple into his mouth. She gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair while he sucked and lathed her taut flesh. He eased closer, mouth traveling up the column of her throat.
Her hands released his hair, slid down his chest and over his stomach. A trail of heat followed her touch, feeding the pounding inside him. She wrapped her fingers around his cock, and his legs nearly gave out from under him.
She stroked him up and down, smoothing his hard flesh with her palm. Frantic need pulled low in his belly. His hips jerked forward, following her pace, pressing deeper into her grip. Damn it, if he didn’t slow things down he’d explode all over her hand.
“Holy God, Carly,” he growled. “You’re driving me out of my mind.”
* * *
Despite her own swelling need, Declan’s words sent a thrill through her, primal and feminine. She’d brought him here, made his legs shake, turned his breath shallow and his eyes black and hungry. She’d brought him to the brink.
He growled and lunged forward, forcing her to relinquish her grip on his erection. His mouth found hers, tongue sweeping between her lips, sliding alongside hers. The tip of his penis grazed her opening, and she whimpered.
She wanted him inside her, to feel him moving over her body and driving her out of her head. She wanted him fast and hard and now.
His finger slid between her folds, pushed deep inside her, easing the swelling ache. He thrust in and out, thumb manipulating her clit and driving her ever closer to the edge. But she needed more. She needed all of him.
“Please,” she whimpered, wriggling her hips closer.
Instead of driving deeper, he eased back and her heated skin chilled. She straightened, while he bent and snatched his jeans from the floor.
“I don’t know when the hell I’ll learn to take this out first.” He grabbed the condom from his wallet, tore open the packet and slid the rubber down his thick erection. Anticipation fluttered low in her belly.
With a wicked smile, Declan moved between the V of her legs. Then he hooked them both under her knees with his forearms, leaving her spread wide, exposed. Her heart stuttered in her chest. The ache pounding at her core begged for release.
He thrust inside her, slow and deep. A rough groan tore from her throat, her voice barely recognizable. He started to move, hips driving into her. With her legs draped over his arms, she couldn’t gain purchase. He set the pace, and she had no choice but to hang on.
She wrapped her arms around his neck in an attempt to anchor herself, the sensation swelling inside her threatening to sweep her away. Every nerve inside her had sparked to life, sizzling beneath her oversensitized skin.
She hovered on the brink. The ache inside her pulled tight, ready to snap. Then she was gone in a brilliant flash of white.
“Declan!” Her orgasm burst inside her, like shivery fireworks, and Declan drove her on. His pace grew faster and more frantic. His hand slid beneath her, gripping her backside tight as he pushed deep one final time, a guttural moan ripping free of his throat.
He collapsed against her. One hand propped against the desk to keep them upright, the other still gripping her bottom and holding her tight against him. Not that she minded. She kept her own arms wrapped around his neck, her body flush with his.
She pressed her lips to the side of his throat, then whispered in his ear, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know.” His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. She could feel the thud of his heart against her breast. “Come with me when I go back to the States.”
His words shot a thrill through her chest and filled her with stark terror at the same time. She let go of his neck and leaned back, her arms numb at her sides. “Go back with you? We barely know each other.” But some part of her wanted to, wanted to give in to the fantasy of them together forever, which fed her fear, growing bigger by the moment. “My life is here. My home, family, friends, my career.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but I don’t want this to end. I’d stay, but I can’t leave my family right now. Not so soon after my mother passing. And there’s my business—it’s just getting off the ground.”
What about her career? Her family? To be fair, she and her parents weren’t terribly close, more like polite acquaintances who shared an obligation to see each other at holidays and birthdays. Her career was another matter entirely. There weren’t a lot of legitimate research opportunities for parapsychologists, to begin with. Whatever her issues with the university, she was damn lucky to have the job she did.
Still, the idea of him returning to Seattle and her never seeing him again left her empty inside. They hadn’t known each other long, but what she felt for him made her chest ache.
And what if she gave everything up and followed him back to the States only to wind up like her mother, with only an empty marriage to show for all that she’d given up?
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
* * *
November first dawned with brilliant sunshine and deep blue skies. An icy wind whipped in off the sea, and dark clouds on the horizon left Carly certain the weather would change before the day ended. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and stifled a yawn as she drove away from Stonecliff, despite she and Declan sleeping late, just past noon. Weariness had settled deep into her bones. No doubt a result of the worry she’d been living with the past few days.
And maybe tossing and turning next to Declan all night, wondering if she’d made the right decision. He’d said he understood, each of them immersed in their own lives. He hadn’t mentioned it again. Not after they’d tumbled into his bed and made love again, or this morning when they woke wrapped in each other’s arms. Maybe he hadn’t really meant it. He’d just been caught up in the afterglow of damn good sex.
Something entirely too close to disappointment flickered in her chest.
There were no texts from Andy on her mobile when she woke, and only one phone message but not from him. But she’d known there wouldn’t be. Hugh Warlow had taken him to sacrifice at the bog.
Today was the day—the big event. Tonight they would stake out The Devil’s Eye and hopefully they’d get Andy back safe and sound.
The message on her phone was from Detective Miller. He wanted her to come into the station. He apparently had information about her car. Apprehension and a thin shaft of hope battled inside her. If her car had been found, and there was still no trace of Andy, maybe they could involve the police in their search for
Hugh Warlow.
Declan hadn’t wanted her to go on her own, and she wasn’t wild about leaving him alone, either, but someone had to stay behind in case the butler turned up. The anxiety twisting in her stomach might have eased if Declan weren’t completely alone in Stonecliff, but Mrs. Voyle had called that morning and told him she wouldn’t be back, the strange phenomena rampant at Stonecliff these days too much for her.
Her mobile buzzed from its spot tucked into the console of her dash. She glanced at the screen, but didn’t recognize the number. Her pulse fluttered. Andy, maybe, calling from a strange phone. She pulled onto the soft shoulder and snatched up her phone.
“Hello?”
“Carly Evans,” a male voice said, brightly. “It’s been a while.”
She frowned. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Who’s this?”
“I’m wounded, my dear, truly wounded that you would forget me so easily. Kendrick Conway.”
Her frown deepened. Why was Reece’s uncle phoning her? “Is there something I can help you with?”
“My nephew requested my input in a situation you’re dealing with.”
“Not that I don’t appreciate the assistance, but why are you ringing me instead of Reece?”
“He specifically told me to. It’s typical of my nephew to ask for my help in one breath then tell me to piss off with the next.”
There’d been tension between Reece and his uncle for as long as she’d known them. While she wasn’t sure of the source, Kendrick had raised Reece after his mother had passed away. Kendrick had a very real talent as a medium, but he was also something of a con man, and it couldn’t have been easy to grow up in the man’s care.
“Now, what are we dealing with here?” he asked.
“Right, the location—”
“One last detail,” Kendrick interrupted. “I do make my living consulting in such matters.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m in my car just now, so there’s not much I can do for you. Why don’t you email me an invoice and I’ll see you get paid.”
“Always such a pleasure to deal with professionals. You were saying.”
“The location we’re investigating gives off high levels of geomagnetic energy, higher than anything I’ve ever seen. Witnesses reported apparitions, shadow people and poltergeist activity. While this would be standard in any possible haunting, there are strong indicators that evil actions have warped that energy, as if those actions were somehow absorbed and were now being projected.”
“Not unusual. Why do you think there’s almost always a hormonal teenager tied to most cases of poltergeist activity? What you have is the same concept, really, but on a much grander scale. What do you need from me?”
“Is there a way to neutralize the energy, so that it’s no longer absorbing or projecting?”
“Stop whatever evil acts are going on there. It’s like oxygen to fire. Those acts are feeding it, and the energy grows bigger, stronger. Stop the acts, you cut off the fuel and eventually whatever is happening will fizzle out. It may take time, but it will happen.”
According to Kyle Peirs’s list of dates, there hadn’t been a killing in over a year. Was that why there’d been such a shift over the past six months? But the activity had increased. What had started out as a few shadow people had grown to so much more, but maybe the longer The Devil’s Eye went without a sacrifice, the looser its grip on the souls that remained. If no one died there in a year, two, five, a decade, would those souls move on for good? Would the shadow people just fade away?
“Thank you, Kendrick. You’ve been helpful.” Movement in her rear-view mirror caught her attention. She looked up at the glass as a blue sedan pulled in behind her.
“My pleasure. I’ll send that invoice to you. Are you still at…” He rattled off her email address.
“Yes, that’s it. I have to go.” She hit end and set her phone back in the console, her attention focused on the car parked about twenty feet behind her. There were two people in the front seat, but because of the angle of the sun she couldn’t make out more than their outlines behind the windscreen.
Her pulse fluttered in her throat and she reached for her keys in the ignition. She was probably making something out of nothing. The driver could merely be some Good Samaritan who thought she was having car trouble. The driver’s side door opened and Detective Miller got out.
She released the breath she’d been holding and lowered her window as he walked toward her car. The man in the passenger seat stayed where he was. Maybe Miller had a new partner since Harding had gone off the rails.
“I was just on my way to see you,” she said, as Miller drew up to the window. “I had to stop to take a call.”
“I’ve news about your car, Ms. Evans,” he said, the handsome lines of his face grim. “It’s been found outside an East London suburb, or at least what’s left of it. Someone set fire to your vehicle, and I’m afraid there’s very little left.”
Dull nausea rolled through her. “What about Andy?”
Surely now the man had to admit that Andy was missing, that he hadn’t taken off in a huff, that he’d met with some form of foul play.
“Step out of the car, please,” Miller said, his tone cold, almost bored.
Unease unfurled inside her. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me, Ms. Evans.”
“It’s doctor, actually, Detective,” she snapped. Her pulse thudded in her ears. What was happening?
“Get out of the car, Doctor Evans.”
“Why? What is this about?”
Miller let out an impatient sigh, reached an arm through her window and popped the lock, then pulled open the door. “Out of the car.”
Head spinning, she released her seatbelt and stepped onto the gravel shoulder.
“Face the car and put your hands behind your back,” he instructed, his voice robotic.
Fear and outrage burst inside her. “Are you arresting me? On what charge?”
“Hands. Behind. Your. Back.”
She swallowed the panic swelling in her throat. What had happened that police suspected she was involved? It must have been something they found with her car, but what? Still, she turned and did as she was told. Cold metal snapped into place around her wrists. Her chest squeezed so tight, she could barely take in air.
“You have to tell me the charge,” Carly said, wishing her voice hadn’t trembled. “I have rights.”
He ignored her as if she hadn’t spoken a word. Instead he reached into her car, took her mobile from the console and popped out the battery before he dropped both into the pocket of his expensive suit jacket.
Miller’s passenger door opened and a man climbed out. Not another cop like she’d expected, but Sean Leonard, whose mother owned the inn.
Slow dawning washed over her like a wave, nearly knocking her off her feet. She turned to Miller. “You’re one of them.”
He smiled and her insides shriveled. Gripping her elbow, he shoved her toward his car. As they passed Sean, Miller nodded at Declan’s Land Rover. “You know what to do.”
The younger man smirked and hurried to the driver’s door and climbed in. As Miller pushed her into the backseat of his car, Sean pulled away in the Land Rover, disappearing behind a curve in the road as if she’d never been there at all.
She turned to Miller. “What are you going to do to me?”
He chuckled, the sound scraping her nerves. “That all depends on Meyers.”
Chapter Seventeen
Declan’s gaze bounced between his computer screen and the list of names he’d written on the lined pad next to his laptop. He’d heard from Allen. His stepfather had found the books in Declan’s mother’s safety-deposit box. They were indeed journals, though more records of experiments with The Devil’s Eye and eventually the people killed there.
“Why would your mother have kept these?” Allen had asked, rightfully horrified.
Insurance. “I’m not sure, but I’ll find ou
t,” he said, instead. “Does it say anywhere who wrote the journals?”
“Jonas Worthing—his name’s on the first page, in 1937.”
Declan had thanked Allen and said goodbye, then gone to his computer, searching for which family lines dated back the furthest in the village, people who might have felt obligated or proprietary of Cragera Bay. People willing to kill for its perceived success.
His own family went back three generations, including his great-uncle who had purchased the property and left it to Arthur, who in turn left it to him. The Paskins went back five generations in the village, though with the death of Stephen Paskin, his wife and son, that line had been wiped clean. Dr. Howard’s family went back three generations, the Leonards’ four. He could easily see Sean Leonard mixed up in all this. It would have been easy for him to lie to the police about Andy checking out of the inn. Even Olivia Dodd, who had claimed to police she’d witnessed Eleri arguing with one of the men, her family went back three generations, also. Her father had died four years ago, and she back in March, so only her mother was still living and the woman was in her late sixties.
Sean Leonard was his best bet. If he couldn’t find Warlow to shake Andy’s location of him, Leonard would have to do.
His cell phone rang and he snatched it up, catching a glimpse of the time just before he answered the call. Three o’clock. The afternoon had flown by, and Carly had been gone for over two hours. Surely she should have been back by now.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Brynn.”
He frowned. They should have been back by now, too. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, sort of. I called Eleri last night to tell her what’s been going on. I didn’t want her caught off guard in case…”
Her voice trailed off, but he knew what she was going to say. In case the worst happened and Eleri fell under suspicion again.
“Anyway, she and Kyle have decided to drive up. Reece and I are going to meet them before they reach Cragera Bay and try to talk them into going home. If something has happened to Carly’s friend and Eleri is anywhere near the village, she’ll be right back to being suspect number one. Reece and I will be back by tonight, though. How’s everything there?”