Nightshift

by Kate Douglas

  Or so she said. Why, though, when he questioned her very existence, did the need to know seem to fade from his mind? Who was she? Why was she? But her tongue was stroking the sensitive roof of his mouth and her fingers were stroking his cock. Slowly she slid back down on the bed, her lips and tongue making all his questions go away.

  Dink chuckled and scooted close as Zianne pulled Mac on top of her. Mac’s cock slid between her legs and then he was slipping easily inside. She was tight, her channel hot and wet, the muscles rippling along his length. He was vaguely aware of Dink moving around behind him and then intimately aware of those now familiar fingers stroking his butt, stretching his tender anal ring, making everything ready for penetration.

  He sighed when Dink pressed the head of his cock against his ass, groaned when he forced his way through the tight muscle. He was still sore after all the activity last night, but when Dink surged forward, Mac went with the flow, thrusting deep inside Zianne. She smiled and he could have sworn her violet eyes were twinkling in the early morning light.

  She raised her long legs, locking her heels against Dink’s hips, not Mac’s. Linking the three of them for a slow and easy ride as they rocked together. Passion seemed to rise like a gradual tide, an almost dreamlike sense of climax growing, arousal peaking, their bodies coming together in a soft yet glorious orgasm that tipped them gently over the edge together.

  This was no frantic coupling, not a rush to the finish but instead a joining of hearts and souls that left Mac feeling satiated and quietly replete.

  Zianne’s body rippled around him and he felt Dink’s heart thundering against his back. Easing down to one side so he wouldn’t crush Zianne, Mac kissed her cheek and closed his eyes.

  There was so much to think about. He’d never considered anything like this and he couldn’t help but wonder how this part of his life could be so perfect while so much of it was so fucked up. Thank God for Dink, and for Zianne as well. They’d somehow managed to give him back that sense of self he’d felt was missing.

  Today he’d go back to the campus. He was ready to take a stand and prove his innocence. Later. After he slept some more.

  Mac heard someone moving near the bed and slowly opened his eyes. Dink had just showered. He had a towel wrapped around his slim hips and was going through Mac’s closet, obviously looking for something to wear that wasn’t covered in blood.

  There was no sign of Zianne. “Where ya goin’?” Mac shoved himself up and leaned against the headboard.

  Dink smiled at him, and there was so much love in that look that it made Mac feel guiltier than ever. “I’ve got a freshman class to cover for the professor. It’s almost eleven.”

  “Did you see Zianne leave?”

  Dink shook his head. “She was gone when I woke up.” He sat on the edge of the bed next to Mac. “That was really something, wasn’t it?” His soft laugh was filled with a sense of wonder.

  Mac swallowed back a flip answer. “Definitely.” Damn, he was so screwed. “Dink? You know I love you. You know I want to do this again, but ...”

  Dink tilted his head and shot a lop-sided grin at Mac. “I know, Mac. You’re never going to feel the same for me that I do for you. I get that. I’m okay with it. But last night ... this morning.” Slowly he shook his head. “It’s more than I ever imagined. I do hope we do it again. You okay with that?”

  “You know I am.” He smiled at Dink. Then he looked closer. Where were the bruises? The split lip? The black eye? “Dink? Do you have any idea how you managed to heal so quickly? I mean, you were a mess last night, and now ...” His voice trailed off as Dink quickly stood.

  “It was Zianne. I don’t know how, but when she touched me last night ...” He shrugged and moved away from the bed. “I dunno, Mac, but if you ever figure out her story, I want the details. Hey, I’m going to borrow some of your stuff, okay? I need to get moving or I’m gonna be late.”

  Obviously Dink wasn’t ready to talk about it. Mac nodded. “Meet me at Sloan’s this afternoon, okay?”

  Dink nodded. “I can’t get there till after four. That work for you?”

  “Yeah. That’s cool.” Mac watched as Dink grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans and quietly slipped out of the bedroom. Then he flopped back down on the bed. Zianne. All the questions he had always came back to her, but why? And why, when she was near him, did he quit asking? Shit.

  She’d left last night to find something that was supposed to help him with the mess surrounding the grant, but she’d never mentioned a thing when she came back. Of course, none of them had done much talking. “Who am I kidding? The three of us didn’t talk at all.”

  He sat there a moment longer, thinking of Zianne, thinking of Dink, but all of his thoughts merely confused him more. Finally Mac rolled out of bed and headed to the shower. His head was spinning, and it wasn’t from the sex. It was spinning around the mystery that was Zianne.

  It felt strange being back on campus. He should be heading to class or working in the computer lab, not walking toward the complex where the chancellor’s office was. What did he have, other than suspicions?

  “Mac? I was looking for you.”

  What the hell? “Zianne? What are you doing here?” Damn. She was so gorgeous in tight black jeans and a purple long-sleeved T-shirt. With her black hair flowing over her shoulders and those amazing violet eyes, she took his breath away.

  “Like I said, looking for you.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him over to a small group of tables beneath a large oak. “Now I have found you. Remember? I told you last night I had some things to check into.” She smiled and sat on top of one of the tables. “When you go to see the chancellor—”

  Mac interrupted. “Wait. How do you know I’m planning to see the chancellor? I haven’t told anyone I was coming here.”

  She shrugged. He tried to remember if he’d said something, but Mac knew he hadn’t. They’d been too busy screwing.

  “This is important,” she said. Ignoring his question, she tapped a finger against his chest. “You must tell him you were set up, that you suspect there is a scam being played out under his nose. That Dean Adam Johnson, Phil Bennett’s uncle, has been collecting grant monies for years under false pretenses. That he has now involved his nephew in the scam, and if they’re not stopped, they’re going to bring shame on the entire university.”

  Suddenly his concerns didn’t seem as important. “Are you sure? How do you know this? Crap.” He laughed. “I’d love to tell him, but without proof, I’m afraid our dear chancellor would throw me out on my ass. With good reason.”

  Zianne reached into her back pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. “You cannot say where you got these papers, but they are the proof you need to catch the chancellor’s attention.”

  Frowning, Mac took the envelope and carefully opened it. “These are bank statements. A personal account of the dean’s.” He raised his head and stared at her. “How did you get these?”

  Again, she ignored him. “Compare the figures to this list, which is available as part of the department’s fiscal records.” Zianne handed him another sheet of paper.

  It took only a few moments to make the comparison between the deposits of grant money into the school account, the regular payment checks made as the money was supposedly disbursed to the student of record, and matching deposits into Dean Johnson’s personal account.

  When he finished reading, Zianne handed more pages to Mac. Copies of checks from the dean, made out to Phil Bennett. The link was complete. Mac finally raised his head and focused intently on Zianne. “How did you get this information? How did you even know to look? The guy’s obviously a crook, but you ...”

  Shaking her head, Zianne held up a hand to stop him. “I can’t tell you, so please don’t ask. These are copies of actual records you have received anonymously.” She wrapped her fingers around Mac’s. “Enough to prompt an investigation. What they find will clear your name. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  He sta
red at the papers in his hand and then at Zianne. The questions pounded in his mind—questions he knew she wouldn’t answer. “Zianne ... I ...” He let out a huge breath. “Thank you.” Carefully he folded the papers and stuck them in the envelope. She was right. He had what he needed to at least start the investigation that could clear his name.

  Then he’d clear things up with Zianne.

  She leaned close and kissed him. “I’ll meet you at your apartment tonight.” She stood and cast a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. “I hope we’ll have something to celebrate.”

  He watched her walk away, but celebrating was the furthest thing from his mind. Frowning, he turned away and headed for the chancellor’s office.

  Zianne turned and watched as Mac climbed the stairs to the office building. Her heart pounded, her palms felt dry, and there was a strange feeling in her stomach. It took her a moment to identify the sensations as fear. Not for herself, but for Mac, but it wasn’t merely because he needed freedom from the dean’s accusations in order to be able to help her people.

  No. It was more than that. Again, that tendril of guilt tied her in knots. She wanted him free of the charges for his own sake. Not because of what he could do for her.

  This was just for Mac.

  She’d spent hours finding the records he needed. How could she tell him that she’d become a stream of pure energy, that she’d gone inside the bank’s computer system in order to recover the information? He would look at her with disgust if he knew she wasn’t human. He might still be willing to help her people, but he would never be able to love Zianne.

  She hoped he could love the woman she’d become, the one he’d created with his beautiful sexual fantasy and his powerful mind. He’d never love the creature of energy she truly was.

  Or could he? She wiped unexpected tears from her cheeks and wished him well. And fantasized her own special dream, of Mac knowing who and what she was, and loving her anyway.

  And that was suddenly more important than it should be.

  8

  Mac stopped at Sloan’s for a beer. He took a table in the back and sipped his brew, silently celebrating.

  “Hey, Mac. I was hoping you’d still be here.” Dink slid into the seat across from him. “You look like the cat who ate the canary. What’s up?”

  Mac raised his glass in toast. “All’s right with the world, my friend, though you might want to steer clear of Phil Bennett and his merry band of idiots for a while. He’s gonna be pissed.”

  Dink leaned back in his chair. “Tell me all about it.”

  “I decided to go straight to the chancellor’s office. It turns out there’s an ongoing investigation of Dean Johnson.”

  “Embezzlement, right?” Dink’s grin stretched ear to ear.

  “Yes and no. It appears the man’s running a number of scams. One involves illegal student visas and stolen software. Another has to do with distribution of illegal drugs. The chancellor said they weren’t even looking into embezzlement of grant monies. Yet. No wonder it’s so hard to get an appointment with the dean. He’s a busy boy.” He laughed, amazed by how much his situation had suddenly improved. “Anyway, I met Zianne on campus this morning, and ...”

  “What was she doing there? She’s not a student, is she?”

  Mac shook his head. “Hell, I don’t know and she won’t tell me. But she had paperwork that proved a lot of our suspicions, and no, I have no idea how she got it. The chancellor was quite interested. He said he’d have to get warrants for the originals, but the copies told him what to look for.”

  “Which is?” Dink took a sip of his beer.

  “An unlikely connection between the disbursement of grant monies, and like-sized checks showing up in the dean’s personal account. Oh, and regular payments to his nephew.”

  “How the hell did Zianne get information like that?”

  Mac shook his head. “No idea, and she’s not talking.”

  Dink laughed. “Do you know anything about her other than the fact she’s gorgeous and good in bed?”

  “Don’t go there. Whatever Zianne’s secrets, they’re her business.” He stared blankly at Dink. “Shit. I can’t believe I’m defending her. Her secrets make me crazy.” Except he owed her for helping him clear his name, didn’t he?

  Dink gazed steadily at Mac. Finally, he exhaled, long and slow. “Never mind. Back to the chancellor. What else happened?”

  “My scholarship’s being reinstated. I have full access to the computer lab while the investigation is ongoing. It’s been kept quiet, but he expects it to break open when the warrants are served, maybe even this afternoon.”

  “That soon? Wow ... but what about the grant? You need that income, don’t you?”

  “I’m back in the running and there’s still some scholarship money left. I’ll have to replicate my project, but without the notes, it’ll take me a while. He said he’d speak with the committee and make sure they gave me enough time. Dean Johnson’s been pulled from it, so I don’t have to go through him. If I can replicate the project, it’ll prove that Phil stole my work.”

  “Can you do it?”

  Mac shrugged. “I think so. It shouldn’t be too hard. It was a fairly simple program.”

  “Shit. I wonder how Zianne got the information?”

  Mac stared at his beer a moment before he raised his head. “How’s she do anything? How does she get in and out of my locked apartment without a key? How does she heal your injuries with merely a touch? How the hell does she know so much about me?”

  “Have you asked her?” Dink sipped his beer, but he kept his gaze locked on Mac.

  “I try. It’s like I can’t think of the questions when I’m around her. I dunno, Dink. It’s freaky, but at the same time I feel like an idiot, wanting to question everything.”

  Dink steepled his fingers and rested his chin on their tips. “Mind control? Is she somehow controlling your thoughts?”

  Mac jerked back in his chair. Then he laughed and hummed a few bars from the opening theme to The Twilight Zone. Dink didn’t even crack a smile. Mac shook his head. “I don’t know. She could be doing something. I can’t get her out of my head.”

  He stared toward the front of the bar, at the lights beginning to come on outside, and wondered if Zianne was waiting for him at the apartment. She’d said she’d be there tonight, that maybe they’d have something to celebrate.

  Just being with her. Touching her. Seeing her ... that’s all it took. There was no other explanation. No way to convince himself he was making up feelings he’d never experienced before. Mac turned his attention once again to Dink, almost afraid to say the words out loud. He sighed. He honestly didn’t know if he should be laughing or crying or running for the hills. “I don’t know jack shit about her. I think I love her. How stupid is that?”

  Dink’s smile was more sympathetic than anything else. “I figured that much. I’d have to be blind and mentally deficient not to have guessed how you feel about her. It’s all over your face.” He laughed and sat back in his chair. “Shit, man. You have the same look on your face when you’re with Zianne as I probably do when I’m hanging out with you.”

  “Aw, Dink ...”

  “No.” He held his hand up. “Don’t feel bad. I’m over the worst. Of course, fucking until your eyes cross tends to help.”

  “Fucking works.” Leave it to Dink to put things in perspective. Mac toasted him with his beer. Might as well spill it all. “There’s more. It’s so bizarre I feel sort of stupid bringing it up, but you know the program I’m working on? Someone else has added code to it. Stuff that I never would have thought of, but it works. It makes the program better, more stable, less apt to crash.”

  “What do mean, someone else? You’re never away from those notes of yours. They’re in your backpack now, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah.” He grabbed the pack off the back of the chair. “Right here. Always with me. There was more fresh code today. It’s not in my handwriting and I haven’t had
a chance to test it yet, but I think it’s going to fix some issues I was trying to deal with.” He opened his pack and pulled out the yellow legal pad. “Look. See the different handwriting?”

  He set the tablet on the table in front of Dink and waited while his friend studied what, to him, was probably incomprehensible gibberish. After a moment, Dink raised his head. “I have absolutely no idea what this shit means, but you’re right. The handwriting is definitely not yours. It’s actually legible.”

  “Thanks loads.” Laughing, Mac stuffed the legal pad back in his pack. “I think it’s Zianne’s.”

  “What? Is she a geek? That’s a relationship made in heaven, though she doesn’t look like any geek I’ve ever seen. Of course, neither do you.”

  “Gee, thanks. Hell, I don’t know, but I started noticing the additions to my work the morning after I first met her. How else do I explain it?”

  “Have you asked her? Asked about her? Checked to see if she’s enrolled in any classes, if she’s listed in the employee registry?”

  “Dink, do you even know her last name? Because I sure as hell don’t.”

  Dink looked disgusted. “I repeat. Have you asked her?”

  Mac shook his head. “No. I kept thinking I’d look at her wallet, check and see if she’s got a driver’s license, but she doesn’t carry a purse. Do you know any woman who doesn’t have a purse, or at least a backpack? No lipstick, no makeup, no hairbrush.”

  “No clothes, at least not this morning. Damn, she’s hot.”

  Mac laughed. “You’re not supposed to notice. You like guys. You’re supposed to think I’m hot.”

  “I do. Damn, you know I do, but you have to admit, she’s a truly gorgeous woman.” He got a totally dopey expression on his face. “I mean, this morning was ... it was ... damn, Mac. What was that? Have you ever ... ?”