* * * * *
Chapter Three
Bacchus arrived on Carrie’s awning-covered doorstep early the next morning, toting a briefcase containing notes on Ryan and her brother, Brady that he’d scribbled after he'd dropped off the woman from the alley. The notes looked professional at first glance, but wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny. He prayed to the Goddess that Carrie wouldn’t ask to see them. He'd bought the proper clothing for the part he planned to play, so it should be easy enough to use Brady’s memories and work his way inside her home.
There was no guilt, only anticipation. His people were counting on him, on this mission to be a success. He pulled his hair back into a queue, then pressed the button on the side of the door.
Ding, Dong, the bell chimed, echoing throughout the structure.
Silence pervaded.
Bacchus frowned and hit the button again.
He heard the pad of bare feet across the floor a second before a sleepy voice called out from the other side. “All right, all right, I’m coming. Keep your shirt on.”
He looked at his green button down shirt and tweed jacket. The clothing was different from what he was used to, but comfortable nonetheless. And, most importantly, it concealed his flight suit below.
Bacchus glanced in the nearby windowpane to check to see if the sunglasses he’d purchased at Venice Beach hid the red of his eyes. They were dark, but not too dark. He wouldn’t need to remove them during their conversation and they would effectively conceal the color. His body radiated heat from being in such close proximity of Carrie, sending his pheromones into the air. He inhaled, catching their unique scent. Not now. Not yet. He pleaded with his body to remain in control. If they became too strong, they’d render him helpless against his baser instincts and send Carrie into a human version of heat…or screaming and running away.
* * * * *
Carrie peeked through the spy hole at the tall man standing on her front porch and then opened the door, a can of pepper spray tucked safely behind her back in the waistband of her sweats. She hoped he wasn’t selling vacuum cleaners or whatever salesmen hocked these days.
She ran her free hand through her disheveled hair, trying to push it out of her face. Loneliness kept her awake until two in the morning. She spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in an attempt to dispel the nightmares, which ranged from finding Brady’s and Ryan's bodies in a ditch, to her old research snakes biting her repeatedly. Ryan was beyond help now. Logically, Carrie knew she’d done everything she could for Brady, but logic had little effect on her emotions. She’d give anything to hear happiness in her brother's voice again. Why hadn’t he called?
Carrie blinked against the sunlight, cracking one eye open to stare at the stranger. She did a double take as his handsome Greco-roman face came into focus. Hair, dark as a raven’s wings, had been swept back into a tight ponytail. His pale skin defied the Southern California sunshine, creating a luminous glow. He stepped closer and dwarfed the doorframe.
“May I help you?” she asked, craning her neck to peer into his face. Her heart stuttered as she got a good look at him. Talk about a wake-up call.
The man stared at her for several seconds, his gaze piercing behind his medium-tint shades. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking from the expression on his strikingly unique face, so Carrie gave up trying. It was impossible to form a coherent thought before her morning cup of coffee. He was probably just another out-of-work actor, like the majority of Los Angeles’ population. Or so she told herself to keep a mental distance between them.
“I said, may I help you?” she repeated, suddenly getting a whiff of a delicate, yet spicy fragrance emanating from his skin. It seemed to envelop her, filling her lungs and permeating her pores. He smelled so good…like fresh-baked cookies on Christmas morning or bread pulled from the oven in a French bakery. She had the sudden urge to start nibbling on his skin.
Carrie shook her head to clear it and dismissed the fanciful thoughts. Skin didn’t smell…tasty. Maybe it was his cologne or there was something floating in the air along with the Southern California smog. She inhaled again and her head swam from a sudden head rush. Her hand flew to her temple and she rubbed, trying to clear the dizziness away.
The man’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her, and then unexpectedly he smiled. “Are you all right?” he asked, knowing full well the effect he was having on her.
Carrie felt the power of that dazzling predatory grin all the way to her toes, which were now curled beneath her bare feet. She steadied herself. “I’m fine. Probably just need to eat something.”
“Good, then it is I who may be of assistance to you,” he said, a strange accent punctuating his words.
“You brought me food?” she asked, confused by his sudden offer. Surely he wasn't selling food door to door.
“No,” he said.
She frowned. Was that a forked tongue in his mouth? He seemed a little old to jump into the piercing and mutilating crowd, but this was L.A. Carrie took a breath and blew air up to brush her bangs out of her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t need a vacuum cleaner, a bible or a tamale. Or whatever else you’re selling today. I have more than enough.” Ryan had left several boxes of his stuff behind, intending to come back for them. He never made it. Those boxes had joined the mess Brady dropped off over the years.
The man continued to study her, but didn’t reply. Carrie thought she saw him shudder, and then the fragrance came again. This time stronger.
Her heart missed a beat and her face flushed. Blood filled areas that hadn’t seen use in months. Her nipples peaked beneath her T-shirt and moisture dampened her panties. She was no longer dizzy, but still felt light-headed and that was after one smile and a little cologne. Someone should bottle him and call it “Ode to Sex”, she thought. Hadn’t she just considered getting back into dating? You can’t start with a door to door salesman, no matter how good he looks, the little voice inside her head warned. The fact that it was right held little consolation. She glanced at the stranger once again. Carrie bet this guy made lots of sales when he actually turned on the charm. She wasn’t about to stick around and find out. She didn’t think her resistance was strong enough.
“Have a good day,” Carrie said, pushing the door closed in a sudden panic.
His hand snaked out and caught the edge before she could finish the job. She pushed harder, but it was like trying to move a concrete pillar.
“I believe you misunderstand my intentions,” he said. “I am not here to peddle wares.”
It wasn’t his intentions that worried Carrie, as her clit began to throb in time with her pulse. She scratched at her arm to relieve the sudden fever burning beneath her skin. What was wrong with her? She didn’t act like this—ever. It didn’t matter how powerful the physical attraction turned out to be. Okay, so maybe she'd never experienced this level of physical attraction before, but that shouldn't matter.
“Look mister, if you don’t leave I’m going to be forced to phone the police.” She thought she saw a smile ghost his sensuous lips.
“Many pardons," he said, "but I must have a word with you.”
What bus dropped this guy off? He shifted and her gaze swung past him and landed on the car parked in the driveway. She’d recognize that vehicle anywhere. It was Brady’s 1968 vintage muscle car. What in the hell happened to it? One bumper was dented, the other was missing, and a jagged scratch ran down the side of one of the doors.
“How?” She gasped, staring at the car as her heart plummeted to her knees. “Where’s Brady? What’s happened to him? Is he all right? Tell me,” she pleaded, no longer concerned with her safety, only her brother’s welfare. He was her only family. She couldn’t lose Brady, too, even though Carrie knew in her heart she already had.
The man’s brow furrowed.
“Is he…?” Her voice trailed off and she braced herself for the worst.
“No, he’s not dead. If you'll allow me to come in, I’ll explain everyth
ing.”
Her sigh of relief was audible, but she still eyed him with suspicion. Who was this man? How did he know Brady? Where was he and why'd he have her brother's car? It was his baby. He never let anyone drive it, aside from Ryan. Carrie needed answers and didn’t think she’d get them if she left him standing on the porch.
“Come in and tell me what happened.” Carrie moved one hand to the small of her back, resting it on the tiny can of pepper spray, before stepping aside to allow him to enter. The knot in her stomach grew from fist size to boulder in the span of a second. Brady would never give up his car without a good reason. He and her brother had restored it together. It was his main link to the past, since he’d dropped contact with her. “Can I get you a cup of coffee Mr. …Mr?”
“My name is Bacchus. And yes, I'd love something to drink.”
Her brow rose. “That’s an unusual name, even for L.A.”
He tilted his head. “I am an unusual man.”
That he was, if first impressions were any indication. Carrie didn’t comment. “Take a seat in the living room, I’ll be right back.” She pointed to the blue room on the left, carefully holding her pepper spray can out of view of her visitor. “It'll take a minute for the coffee to brew.”
Carrie walked into the kitchen, keeping Bacchus in her peripheral vision while she scooped heaping mounds of ground coffee beans into the filter. Her heart was pounding. What had happened to Brady? Bacchus said he wasn't dead, but it had to be bad if he was here. The aroma of French roast filled the air as she poured water into the carafe and flipped the switch to brew.
She ducked into the bathroom while the coffee percolated and brushed her hair. It was never good to receive bad news while suffering from a bad hair day. She glanced at her face and decided to forego makeup. She peeked out the door to make sure Bacchus was still where she'd left him. He sat on the couch, his gaze fixed at a point somewhere on the wall. What was he looking at? Suddenly his attention snapped to where she stood.
Carrie froze, trapped in his gaze, powerless to escape. Her body tingled and her skin stretched taut. She knew she should be scared or at least a hell of a lot more concerned about safety than she was at present, but instead she remained languid and strangely giddy, like she didn’t have a care in the world. What was wrong with her?
Working with animals gave her good instincts. And Carrie’s gut told her Bacchus would never her harm her, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to watch him closely. He was still a stranger. His alluring scent seemed to cling to the air around her. If Carrie didn't know better, she'd swear he was standing next to her…which was impossible since she could clearly see him sitting in the other room. Bacchus blinked, releasing her from his gaze. Shaken, she stepped back into the bathroom. It took Carrie a couple of beats to catch her breath.
Had she ever been this attracted to a man? The word no filtered through her mind. She hadn't even reacted to her ex-fiance, Ryan this strongly. Yet as stunning as Bacchus was, Carrie felt something deeper swirling below the surface than lust. The connection moved beyond the physical into the realm of emotions. Of course, that was utterly impossible, considering she’d just laid eyes on him and didn’t believe in love at first sight. Still, there was no denying that there was something odd happening between them.
Carrie finished getting ready, then slipped back into the kitchen. A minute later, she entered the living room, carrying a tray with a coffee decanter and two mugs on it. The bittersweet aroma filled the air as she placed the tray onto the coffee table. She took a seat in the wicker chair opposite Bacchus before offering him sugar and cream.
“I prefer to drink it black,” he said, lifting the cup to his lips and inhaling deeply.
“Be careful. It’s hot,” she warned, watching in fascination as his forked tongue dipped into the steaming brew a couple of times before he tipped the cup to his mouth and drank it down like a shot of tequila. Carrie glanced at her cup and watched the steam rise.
He should be screaming, holding his tongue, sweating or at least turning red. Instead, Bacchus looked perfectly normal. Well, as normal as a guy with a tattoo on his neck and a forked tongue could look. The word barbarian came to mind. So did reptilian, the herpetologist in her thought. It was odd how some people could remind you of an animal or in Bacchus’ case, a reptile.
Strangely, she found the association kind of sexy.
Despite reservations, Carrie was intrigued and perhaps a tiny bit envious of his ”thumb your nose at society” attitude. Bacchus seemed a walking contradiction, with his buttoned down conservative clothes and counter culture appearance. He held an air of danger that made her think he’d witnessed more than his fair share of violence in his lifetime. Yet, she could tell he was doing everything in his power to put her at ease. The news he had must be really bad. Carrie didn’t realize she was staring until Bacchus smiled at her.
“Sorry,” she said, a second before her face flushed. She glanced at her feet to regain her composure. Carrie had never been forward when it came to men. As anti-feminist as it was, she liked the man to make the first move, to take the lead, to be the dominant one. The last thought brought more heat to her cheeks, distracting her from the real reason he was here.
“Don’t be. I like it when you look at me.” His voice rumbled in his chest, sending vibrations straight to her clit.
Carrie’s head shot up and her eyes widened. Was Bacchus flirting with her? Would it be so bad if he was? Her heart thumped loudly in her chest and she shifted. Suddenly, she wished she’d taken the time to put makeup on. What was she thinking? She shouldn’t be worried about her appearance, when Brady was in trouble. Carrie shook her head to clear the ridiculous thoughts from her mind.
“You came here because of Brady,” she said, reminding him as much as herself.
His smile faded a little. “Yes, I came to tell you that he’s decided to go away for a while.”
“What? What do you mean go away?” Carrie stood and began to pace. She didn’t wait for an answer from Bacchus. “I knew this was going to happen. He’s been acting strange ever since Ryan's death. At first, he came around all the time, then his visits became sporadic. Once he lost his job, he stopped coming altogether. I don’t suppose he told you that we used to be close.” Sadness tinged her voice. "At least until the accident. Brady blames me. I know he does."
“He shared that information with me,” Bacchus said, looking suddenly uncomfortable.
“I don’t understand why Brady would tell you that he was leaving and not tell me. I mean, we haven’t spoken much, but it seems odd he’d up and go without calling first. He must really trust you, if he shared all this with you.” She tried unsuccessfully to cover the hurt in her voice.
“Carrie,” Bacchus said her name so softly, she almost didn’t hear him. “I’m sorry. I know this must be painful to hear.”
“No, I was expecting something like this. I mean, it sucks, but I’m not really surprised.” Her fingers fluttered nervously. "Actually, I was expecting much worse. I thought you'd come here to tell me that my brother was dead."
He reached out and clasped her hand, halting her. Heat shot from his fingertips up her arm and into her nipples.
Carrie jerked her hand away in shock.
Bacchus' nostrils flared. Other than that tiny reaction, he seemed unfazed. “Please sit down. I know this is hard, but it was Brady’s choice. I’m sure he’ll eventually contact you after he’s settled.”
“Settled? Settled where?” Her heart clenched. “He’s not alone, is he?"
“No,” Bacchus said without inflection. "He has found a woman, who makes him happy."
Carrie had hoped that Brady had moved on with his life, but hearing that he’d met someone special from a total stranger made the fact that he hadn't phoned harder to take. She started pacing again. “You're sure he’s okay?”
“He’s safe. He’s currently with his new…”
“Lover?” Her mouth twisted painfully on the word as it
scalded her tongue. “Where?” She plopped down in the chair opposite the love-seat, when her legs threatened to give out. If she’d had any doubts, they ended the second she saw her brother's car. But if Brady’s car was in her driveway, then how was he planning to leave the area?
“She has her own transportation,” Bacchus replied as if she’d asked the question aloud. “The rest of the answers you seek will come in due time from Brady himself once he's worked through his issues, but first I need to get a little background from you.”
Her brows knit. “Me? Why?" she squeaked.
Bacchus didn’t answer. He simply moved to his briefcase, popped the clasp and proceeded to remove several documents with Brady’s name plastered across the top of them.
“Your brother is a very troubled man,” he said.
Carrie sighed. “I know. He hasn’t been the same since Ryan's accident. They were best friends. It always took the two of us to keep Brady from losing it.”
“Depression is dangerous if left unchecked.” Bacchus nodded. “He misses flying in space and has been unable to fill the emptiness the loss of his friend has created.”
She threaded her fingers together, and then placed her hands on her lap. "You talk about space as if you’ve been there. Is that how you know my brother? Did you work with him?”
“No, but we are in similar fields. Like most people, I know what it’s like to lose something you hold dear. I’m also well aware of the despair that one feels when you lose hope,” he said and looked away quickly.
Carrie knew Bacchus was telling her something important, but didn't feel right about pressing for more information. It wasn’t any of her business. Besides, she didn’t think he’d elaborate. “Would you like another cup of coffee?” she asked instead, focusing on a benign subject.
He nodded. “Please.” He held his cup out for her.
Their fingers brushed as she poured, but this time she didn’t pull away. “So how do you know so much about Brady? You said you work in similar fields. Are you two friends?”
Phantom Warriors Volume 1 Page 4