by Tina Donahue
“You saw them?” He swore beneath his breath. “They’re supposed to keep a low profile.”
“They’re wearing black from head to toe and were hiding in the bushes. Practically invisible if I hadn’t been looking for them, or rather, Brooke.”
“She won’t bother you again.” He met her gaze, his earlier agony back in his eyes. “Promise.”
“Okay…did something happen in here while I was gone?” She touched his smartphone. “Someone called?”
“No.” He tossed the phone on the pillow that had fallen earlier. “I’m beat. Mind if we lie down?”
“No. Want to get naked first?”
Not answering, he undressed. Once she’d stripped, he gathered her close and sighed mournfully.
She didn’t have to be Freud to know something was bothering him. “What’s the matter? Please tell me.”
He rolled them over until she was on her back then entered her, his cock plunging deep inside, their bodies touching, lips a breath away. Rather than kiss her, he eased back and searched her face.
She wasn’t certain what he was looking for and couldn’t ask. Everything about him said he wasn’t ready to share. Whatever his concern, she hoped he didn’t think she’d judge. As imperfect as she was, she had no right to criticize anyone, especially him.
His eyes grew shiny.
Alarmed at his increasing sorrow, she cupped his face.
His lids slipped down, his kiss deep, slow, and thorough, reminding her why she adored him. As if she could forget.
They necked like kids or a man and woman who’d just found each other after searching fruitlessly for years and now feared wasting this last chance at happiness. “Like I’m Gonna Lose You”, a sweet-sad song she adored, came to mind.
The remembered lyrics depressed her further. He couldn’t be saying goodbye so soon even though it was the sensible thing to do since they had no future.
Clinging to these moments, she returned his kiss as she hadn’t earlier, tenderness flooding her, along with emotions she couldn’t put into words.
Drinking each other in, they made love, their previous fervor gone, replaced by soul-deep need that made each stroke and thrust too precious to hurry. They came as one, their breathing indistinguishable, legs and arms tangled, so close it was impossible to tell where she ended and he began.
They slept fitfully, awakening several times to enjoy each other, not once exchanging a word. Only touching and experiencing the wonder they shared when they were together until fatigue wouldn’t allow them anything except rest.
Come morning, Desiree woke alone in bed, Hunter’s clothes no longer on the floor.
She shot to the front room.
Showered, shaved, and dressed in a fresh T-shirt and jeans, he sat at her kitchen table, facing a laptop she supposed was his.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” She sounded whiny but didn’t care. Scratching her butt, she padded to him. “We could have showered together.”
“Later.” With one arm around her waist, he regarded a map on his computer screen, red circles covering it.
“What is that?”
“Pings from Brooke’s cellphone.”
Desiree tensed. “Is she outside?” Oh hell. “Are your guys still near the windows?” She draped her arm over her breasts and cupped her pussy, trying to hide both.
Last night, she’d forgotten to close the drapes. They hung open now, sun pouring inside, caressing her ass that faced them. She slid her hand from her curls to her butt cheeks.
Hunter glanced at her then looked over. “The guys are across the street, out of view. During the day, they’ll use binoculars to see what’s going on here.”
She cringed. “Inside, too?” She struggled to hide her nudity. “Close the drapes, please.”
He did.
She dropped to his chair.
“Here.” He pulled her up, sat, then settled her on his lap and returned to his screen.
Desiree snuggled close, needing his fresh scent, bulk, and warmth. “Where is she?”
“At her apartment, hopefully nursing bruises and lacerations from her stunt last night. How fast do you guys heal?”
At supersonic speed. “Shortly after Zander turned me, I sliced my thumb cutting through a chocolate block I’d bought at a bulk warehouse. Sucker weighed ten pounds. Before I could cry out, the tear in my skin had healed. No scar. See.” She held out her hand.
He regarded her thumb then glanced at the empty Styrofoam boxes littering the kitchen table, her triple treats gone before she’d joined him in the bedroom last night. “Want me to order more?”
New Moon couldn’t be open this early. “I’d rather you tell me what’s going on.” His mood last night troubled her, and this morning’s wasn’t much better. He hadn’t copped a feel, given her a kiss, or met her eyes for long. The only time his gaze lingered on her was when she wasn’t looking and caught him staring, at which point he glanced away quickly.
Even now, he focused on the screen. “Nothing much to report. She hasn’t budged for hours.”
Desiree gripped his shoulder. “You’re not planning to storm her place, are you?”
“Nope. When my guys and I pounce, our maneuver needs to be a total surprise. I’m sure she expects us to strike immediately, because of what she did here, and has probably taken precautions.”
“Like what?”
“Who knows? Perhaps other vamps who’ll protect her. Possibly booby-trapping her place to injure or kill shifters.”
God. Shivering, Desiree huddled closer. “What if she never again leaves her apartment, condo, or whatever she calls home? It’s not like she has to eat or drink anything to stay alive. Oh crap.” She squeezed his shoulders. “What if she recruits one of her vamp friends to attack me?”
“And deprive herself of the pleasure?” He shook his head. “Not likely. She’ll fall back into her old habits. All stalkers do. It just takes time.”
“How much?”
“Up to her. Until then, I’ll be here and the guys will remain stationed outside. She won’t come within an inch of you. Once I detect an opening in her defenses, she’ll be history.”
She envied his confidence but wasn’t certain how far she was willing to go to end the problem. “You’re actually going to kill her? Can you?”
He moved the cursor, zooming in on one area. “I have a better plan.”
“Which is?”
“Once everything’s finished and she’s no longer a threat, I’ll detail it for you.”
To hell with that. She scrambled off his lap. “Tell me now. I want to know. Better still, get me ready for your ploy. I’m coming along and helping.”
At last, he looked at her, or rather glared. “No. Fucking. Way.”
“Then we won’t be doing this.” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “You and your buddies can leave right now.”
He leaned back in his chair, getting comfortable. Hell, he even stretched. “You want me gone, you’ll have to throw me out bodily.”
“Please.” She cupped his face. “I have to be with you when this goes down. I’ll distract her so you and your guys can do your thing. Her hatred will be so focused on me she won’t realize anyone else is around. That way no one gets hurt.” She held back a moan. “You won’t get turned.”
“I won’t, even without you being there.”
“You can’t possibly promise such a thing. You saw how quick I move when I want to. You don’t think she’s as determined or more to evade whatever you have planned? She’ll sink her fangs into you faster than you can blink. I know you don’t care if you become like me, but I do. If that happened, things would never be the same between us. I’d never forgive myself and wouldn’t be able to look at you again, or touch you, or—”
“Okay, okay. Shit.” He pressed his fist to his forehead. “We’ll do this your way.”
“Thank you.” She settled back on his lap. “What’s the plan?”
“For now, I continue to monitor her m
ovements.”
“By her pinging cellphone?”
“Better. Now that we know where she lives, I had Mike put a tracking device on her car. When it moves, we follow her on this map.” He brought it up on his computer. Currently, the red dot on it was stationary. “As far as you’re concerned, go on living your daily life, pretending you’ve forgotten her invasion. That means, you do your show tonight and each one that follows, acting as if there’s nothing to worry about.”
Sounded easy, except the show didn’t start for hours. “What about the stuff I normally do? Laundry, getting toiletries at the drug store, grocery shopping?”
“That stops for now. I want her to know you’re holed up here and completely unavailable. Even if your pulling back makes you seem afraid of her—at least according to Kylar and Nolan—it’s the right move to make.”
“Are they the shrinks on your staff?”
“Vamps. I had my guys consult them on what makes someone like her tick, other than the obvious. If they’re right, and I believe they are, she’ll grow curious as to what’s going on with you. Possibly gloating about screwing up your life so much, you can no longer move around freely, you’re practically a recluse. Eventually, her pleasant feeling will fade—what serial killers experience when too much time elapses between their murders. At that point, they’ll look for another fix. In Brooke’s case, she’ll also crave further stimulation. That’s when she gets pissed because she can’t get to you. As her tension mounts, she’ll start making mistakes, getting sloppy, and—”
“We’ll have her. I love it.” She clapped. “Should I do anything during my program to prod her into action?”
“Ignore her. Indifference from you is worse than fear or hostility. Shows her she’s unimportant. Talk about cutting deep. According to Nolan and Kylar, she won’t be able to stand your disinterest more than a few days.”
Waiting seemed almost too simple, the first twenty-four hours passing without incident.
Brooke didn’t leave her digs, and Desiree completed her show, making certain she projected a confident, untroubled image.
Hunter’s men delivered enough chocolate to last her a month and stocked her refrigerator with beef, pork, rabbit, and chicken for him.
His clothes hung in her closet, his boots stood next to their bed. A domestic scene she loved but shouldn’t get used to. Nothing had changed except for Brooke being on her way out. Once she posed no further problem, Desiree had to get on with her godawful existence, Hunter with his life that, hopefully, contained nothing except joy and love.
Asking Gerri to fix him up with someone else was the right move, though not one Desiree could make no matter how many times or how hard she tried.
She never brought up the future, nor did he. They focused on the present and his plan, which he delivered in vague increments that told her zip.
When she protested, he said it was a work in progress. “Things change. We can’t expect her to follow a script. Therefore, we can’t either. We have to prepare for all eventualities.”
“Agreed, but a few details would be nice. Like plan A, B, C, and beyond. Also, where is the showdown going to take place?”
“I’m still working on it.”
By the fourth evening, Desiree was so stir-crazy her inner bat wanted out. Flying around her apartment would at least work off her tension. No telling how Brooke fared since she hid out in her crib or casket. Damn her.
Rubbing her neck, Desiree paced around the kitchen table.
Hunter listened to his caller. “Yeah, I got it. Thanks.” He lowered his phone and leaned closer to his computer screen. “There’s movement.”
Finally. She hurried to his side. “Where’s she going?”
“Nowhere now. She stopped at an internet café near the French Quarter.”
“The place you barely mentioned earlier when you kept dodging my questions about details?”
He drummed his fingers. “The same. She frequents this spot rather than the other internet sites. The owner said she’s been there most evenings except for the last few days. Looks like her discomfort level is mounting. This is almost over.” He lifted his face to hers, his thoughts veiled as they had been since the night she and Mike spoke. “When this goes down, I promise to take care. Can you give me the same guarantee for yourself?”
She touched his mouth. “She won’t come close to destroying me. I won’t give her the chance. Remember, I’m as fast as she is.”
He eased her hand from his lips, nodded, and looked at his screen.
Already, he was pulling away, and she couldn’t blame him, but her stomach still dropped, her mood plummeting. “What do we do now?”
“Do you record your shows so you can replay them if you decide to take a vacation?”
“Sure.”
He brought up documents on his laptop.
Yellow highlighted several entries. “What are those?”
“Her credit card records. They show when she was and wasn’t at the café, using their computers to watch your show. There’s a five-day window in March when she wasn’t online there or her smartphone tracking you. Can you pull up a recording from that time period?”
“Easily. Why?”
“Now that she’s back in her groove, I’m going to give her a few days to feel invincible. That’s when you play your recording rather than putting on a live show.” He met her gaze. “That’s when we get her.”
On the night in question, Desiree wore a black sheath, but no underwear that might keep her from transforming as quickly as possible.
Hunter did the same, donning only his outer duds and boots.
Her recording played for her audience, no mention as to it being a rerun. She’d even set up her phone system so those who called in, including Brooke, would be put on hold for the next available operator. No different from times past. With nothing else to do, she waited for Hunter at her front door.
He paced her bedroom, his boots clopping the floor, voice lowered as he spoke to whomever had phoned.
Her anxiety spiked, legs unsteady, palms wet. She prayed the caller wasn’t saying they had to cancel tonight. If she had to wait another day, week, month… Crap. She wasn’t certain she could tolerate the delay or more suspense as to what Brooke might or might not do.
Why can’t you just go away or bother Zander? He’s the prick who put you in this position.
Hunter entered the hall, a spring in his step, eyes smiling, hope and contentment on his face. Determination, too.
Must have been some call. “Who were you talking to?”
“I’ll tell you later. Ready?” He swung her around.
She squealed. “What are you doing?”
“Being me.” He set her down and tapped her nose. “I thought you liked that.”
This him was way better than the glum, aloof guy who’d acted like a prisoner on death row. “Why are you so happy?”
“Later. Right now, we have a score to settle with a vamp.” He laced his fingers through hers and exited the apartment.
Desiree and Hunter slipped into the café through a back door held open by the middle-aged manager. Kitchen staff focused on the coffee and pastries they prepared rather than them.
According to Hunter, this location was a popular place for mortals and paras to work and play, everyone accepting each other.
Good thing. Once the proverbial shit hit the fan, no one would think to call the cops.
“This way.” The manager led them to the restrooms, both doors bearing Being Cleaned signs. Yellow cones blocked patrons from coming too close.
“Thanks, man.” Hunter clapped the manager’s shoulder.
He smiled. “Good luck to both of you.”
With surprise on their side, she and Hunter didn’t need anything except each other.
He kissed her hard, deep, and long as he hadn’t for too many days, then pointed to the ladies’ room door. “Showtime.”
“I can’t wait.” Once inside, she made certain the door stayed
ajar enough for her to escape, then stripped and transformed.
By the time she flew into the hall, Hunter waited for her in panther form, as magnificent as she recalled, his body muscular yet sleek, fur pure black and shiny, size intimidating. His beast as enticing as his man.
She flew close and flapped her wings to wish him luck.
An intoxicating sound rumbled in his throat, sexy as hell.
If only they could play…
Unable to, she sailed past him into a vent the manager had opened. Following his directions, she turned sharp corners, echolocation serving as sonar to guide her. An exit loomed in the distance near the ceiling in the public area. Once out, she huddled in a shadowed spot that hid her well.
Below, a few patrons chatted or surfed the net. Some drank coffee and read books. Others chomped on fat pastries covered in fruit and glaze.
Hunter’s men had taken their positions at the tables and outside, precisely as he’d planned.
Brooke stared at her screen, phone to her ear, her frown deepening.
Desiree guessed she’d reached the “hold for the next available operator” message playing to anyone who phoned the show tonight.
For months, Desiree had known only debilitating fear for what Brooke put her through and over a creep, no less. At times, she hadn’t believed this moment would come. Yet payback was here.
Hasta la vista, baby. Wings outstretched, she dove through the air and landed on the keyboard.
Brooke jerked and snatched back her hands.
Fangs bared, Desiree hissed.
Suddenly a blur, Brooke jumped from her chair. It clattered to the floor. She spun around and ran.
Smack into Mike’s chest.
After bouncing off him, she took a moment to right herself, then scampered back, the table stopping her, laptop wobbling.
Mike’s sweet face turned cruel and deadly. He advanced.
She retreated and made a wide circle around him.
Desiree swooped in, wings flapping violently, driving her back.
Her gaze darted left and right then behind her like a cornered animal not knowing where to go or what to do.