Bonfire of the Vampires

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Bonfire of the Vampires Page 2

by Bonfire Of The Vampires (lit)


  With the meticulously arranged Christmas lights outlining the sloping eaves and glowing windows, and the crisp snow accumulating on the manicured bushes and the lawn, the place looked magical. That, and the smile on Jake’s face when he saw her, went a long way toward banishing the weariness caused by working in her gift shop until 6:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve.

  Her heart skipped a beat when he kissed her--probably because her overactive imagination suggested he’d meant the kiss to linger. The scent of his aftershave, like spiced pine, always made her a little tingly, and tonight was no exception.

  He looked great--as usual--but there was a formality to him this evening. His dark brown hair was newly trimmed and the sweater he wore was brand new, no smudges from blue prints or dirt from his latest construction site.

  When he placed the long, flat box in her hands, her stomach flip-flopped. As always, her first instinct was to refuse the gift. He’d been trying to give her things for years and she’d always managed to politely put him off, unable to bear the thought of accepting a handout from him, even in the guise of a present. He’d saved her from herself on that night in the park three years ago, though he didn’t know it, and that was all the gift she needed from him. The intervening years of friendship were more than she could have asked for, but certainly not more than she wished for.

  “Is this why you asked me to come early?” she asked with a raised eyebrow as she contemplated the explosion of metallic ribbons that spilled across the top of the box.

  He laughed. “Yes, it is. I didn’t want all my other guests to be jealous. They’re only getting CD players.” His loopy grin clutched at her heart.

  “You mean no CD player for me?” She sketched a mock frown. “I’ve always wanted one.”

  In response Jake took her hands in his and drew her over to the couch to sit. “I got you one of those, too.” His confession made her feel guilty. She glanced at the gift she’d brought for him, which sat on the coffee table neatly wrapped in red metallic paper. She’d agonized over its selection and finally decided on a black leather organizer with his initials embossed in gold. For a successful businessman, she’d always wondered how he managed to keep all his appointments when he recorded them on scraps of paper that he regularly jammed into the pockets of his jeans.

  “Open it,” he urged. His enthusiasm made his rich, brown eyes sparkle.

  Abby’s fingers shook a little as she peeled the edges of the thick, gold paper open. A long velvet box slid into her hands. The hinged top creaked when she opened it to reveal the treasure inside.

  Abby gasped, somewhat prematurely. Rather than a sparkling bracelet or necklace, the box contained a folded document. She lifted the pleated pages and glanced skeptically at Jake. “Just my size!”

  He grinned. “It’s a sample contract from Hanfield, Limited. The entire first floor of their new building in Oak Ridge is going to be retail shops.” He ticked the options off on his fingers, “A florist, a high-end jewelry store, a rare book shop ... a gift shop. On the last page is Andrew Cantrell’s phone number. He’s the project leader. All you have to do is give him a call to discuss the particulars and you could have a spot for your second store by the beginning of the summer.”

  Abby blinked. An expensive piece of jewelry would have been hard enough to accept, but this...

  “Jake--Treasure Trove is keeping me pretty busy as it is--how can I be in two places at once?”

  “Eleanor can run your flagship store while you’re setting up your first satellite location,” Jake replied. Always the entrepreneur, he’d been encouraging her business pursuits with unabashed enthusiasm since the day she’d made her first rental payment on the small storefront at the Cloverton Mini-Mall. Her collection of unique gift items had proved surprisingly successful and over the two years since Treasure Trove had opened, Abby had gone from barely making ends meet to turning a respectable profit. She had Jake to thank to a degree for her success, and only herself to blame for not knowing quite how to cultivate that success.

  “Flagships, satellites ... am I running a store or taking off for the moon?” She laughed to hide her sudden bout of nerves. Certainly Jake’s natural success had rubbed off on her but she would never be able to match his drive and determination. Too much good all at once terrified her and only served to remind her that oftentimes bad came in equally large doses.

  Jake shrugged. “The sky’s the limit. If you sign with Hanfield, you might end up with a shop in every one of their new buildings. You could be global inside five years.”

  Abby gulped and scanned the room for the champagne Martin had brought her before Jake arrived. I could probably use something a little stronger, she thought. “I don’t know if I’m ready to go global ... Jake, it’s hard enough to find inventory to fill one shop.”

  He smiled indulgently. “You’ll figure it out. Just give Cantrell a call. Nothing’s set in stone, and he’s a pretty levelheaded guy, a lot on the ball. He won’t steer you into something you don’t want.”

  Abby folded the contract back into the box and snapped the velvet-covered lid shut. “Thank you. Jake, your confidence in me means a lot.” She caught his gaze, which had turned sober and devastatingly intense. Those bottomless, brown eyes of his could mesmerize her and make her think anything was possible.

  “Just in case you didn’t like what was in the box, I got you this, too.” He brought his hand up in front of her face and dropped a sparkling bauble from his closed fist. A heart shaped pendant of purple crystal surrounded by a dozen perfect little diamonds glinted in the firelight, suspended from a delicate silver chain.

  “Ah! It’s beautiful.” Abby reached up and caught the pendant. The faceted amethyst was flawless and the diamonds surrounding it burned with multicolored flames.

  She fought the impulse to kiss him. If she did, she might not be able to stop. “Thank you, again. Jake, you didn’t have to do any of this,” she said as he unclasped the chain and placed it around her neck. She swept her hair up in one hand and tried to ignore the longing invoked by the gentle brush of his fingertips at the nape of her neck.

  When she turned around he caught her hands in his again and drew her close.

  “Abby, when are you going to understand that I like doing things for you? I like giving you things.”

  “Jake--”

  “It’s not charity. You know that.” A frisson of anticipation coursed through her when his voice went low and husky. “It’s not just friendship either.”

  He leaned closer and in spite of her resolve to keep her relationship with Jake strictly platonic, Abby tilted her head back and parted her lips just enough to convey an invitation.

  If he kissed her now, all her willpower would dissolve. Her three-time New Year’s resolution never to complicate their wonderful friendship with sticky, mushy romantic feelings would go right out the window and into the snow if he kissed her right now.

  “You two look very cozy. I hope I’m not interrupting something.”

  Jake covered his disappointment at losing the moment with Abby by flashing an exaggerated grin at the intruder. Gideon Price, Jake’s business partner, stood in the doorway of the library, a gold-wrapped, beribboned liquor bottle in each hand. He returned Jake’s wolfish grin and added a wink for Abby’s benefit.

  She retrieved her champagne glass from the mantle and sipped the bubbling gold liquid while fanning the sudden flush on her cheeks.

  Jake hoped her blush had been caused by his near kiss and not Gideon’s arrival. Price crossed the room and set the bottles on the coffee table next to Abby’s gift. A moment later be stepped between her and Jake and planted a kiss on Abby’s cheek.

  “Hmmm,” he said with a predatory glance that rested too long on her modest décolletage. “New perfume?” She nodded.

  Jake wanted to drop-kick him. He’d noticed her new scent also, a hint of vanilla and citrus. He should have commented but it was too late now.

  Abby carefully extricated herself from between the two
men. Jake watched her and wondered if she had any idea just how false Gideon’s charm was.

  He and Gideon had been friends for a long time. They were business associates who had forged a strong trust in each other’s expertise. They agreed on almost all things business related and had an enviable ability to work out their rare differences of opinion both amicably and profitably.

  They played racquetball together and shared a stiff drink in companionable silence to celebrate their abundant victories and mourn their occasional losses. In most things, they were a flawless team. But there was one place their compatibility failed and that was when it came to women, and Abby in particular.

  Though he never would have let it show, Gideon disliked Abby with the same unwavering intensity that Jake adored her.

  “You’re here early,” Jake said when he’d calmed his irritation. He took a seat next to Abby on the couch, then scooted over half an inch to ensure their knees touched. He glanced at her with a rueful smile and saw her fingers flutter over her pendant. He wondered if she was attempting to hide it from Gideon, or draw his attention to it.

  “Abby’s already here,” Gideon replied. “If it’s okay for her to be unfashionably early, why not me?”

  Jake ignored the jibe. “You always prefer to be fashionably late.”

  “Tonight called for an exception. These are for you. One each.” He handed each one of them a bottle. “From my grandfather’s vineyards. Red for you, Jake and if I recall, Abigail prefers white.”

  “You remembered.” Abby sounded uncharacteristically demure. And Gideon sounded characteristically pompous.

  He was a brilliant business strategist, a consummate charmer and a GQ cover man, twice in fact. But sometimes Gideon was so full of himself Jake wondered how he didn’t just explode.

  “Happy Christmas, as they say in London,” Gideon said with a smirk.

  “As if you’ve ever been there,” Jake said. For all his affectations, the handsome, wealthy, overeducated Gideon Price had one near-fatal flaw. His paralyzing fear of anything airborne went beyond a mere phobia and into the realm of what Jake considered to be a complete emotional and psychological malfunction. Gideon couldn’t even drive past the airport without breaking into an ice cold sweat. It made him human. Or at least it made him seem that way.

  Gideon likewise shrugged off the underhanded jibe and checked his watch. “When is everyone else expected?”

  “Seven thirty.” Jake studied Gideon for a second. Something was up. His feathers were ruffled and his tie was loose. Gideon never loosened his tie before 8:00 p.m.

  “Good, then we have a few minutes. There’s something I need to discuss with you. If Abigail can spare us for a moment.”

  “Of course.” She looked relieved in fact. She rose with her champagne glass and headed for the door. “I’ll go bother Martin and the caterers. Thank you for the wine, Gideon ... and Jake, thank you for everything.”

  Jake’s gaze lingered on the door after she left the room.

  “I saw mistletoe at the door of the dining room,” Gideon said as he pulled at the Windsor knot below his Adam’s apple.

  He’s going for the tie, Jake thought. It must be bad.

  “I’d have put it in a more private spot.”

  “Martin did it. What’s up, Gideon? You look paler than usual.”

  “I’ve good reason to be.” Gideon leveled his smoky gaze at Jake. “There’s been another death.”

  Chapter Two

  Jake shut the library door and locked it before turning back to Gideon.

  “When?”

  “Last night, apparently. I got word today from Gregori’s people.” Gideon lowered himself to the couch and tilted his head back on the brocade upholstery. His shoulders sagged. Despite the crispness of his suit, it was clear he hadn’t slept.

  “Who was it?” Jake forced himself to ask.

  “Igor Danislo.”

  “How?” Jake raised an eyebrow. He’d met Danislo a few times. The Swede was a large man, but fast and well toned. He would have been hard to kill.

  Gideon shrugged. “The usual way. One in the heart.”

  “It’s starting up again.” Jake rubbed at a phantom pain over his left eyebrow.

  “It never stopped, Jake. We had a few quiet months but it’s never going to stop until we’re all gone.”

  “How many of us are left?”

  “Only four.”

  “That’s all?”

  “The time is coming. Gregori is going to call everyone together soon and make his choice.”

  Jake looked past Gideon and out the library window at the snow and the dazzle of festive lights from the other houses on the long block. “Did his people tell you that?”

  “Yes. It could be as soon as New Year’s Eve.”

  “This New Year’s Eve?” Jake swallowed his surprise with a sip of champagne.

  “Of course. Gregori can’t take the chance that all of us might be eliminated before he makes his choice. It will have to be soon.”

  Jake crossed to the fireplace, put one arm on the mantle. “You should probably stay out of sight, then. I bet you’re next.”

  Gideon smiled. “Thanks for that comforting thought. Can I hide in your wine cellar?”

  “Yours is nicer.” Jake ran his hands through his hair and contemplated the discarded gift wrap on the table. He thought of Abby.

  He should have been worrying about himself and Gideon, but all he could think of was how it would affect Abby when she found out the truth.

  “Maybe we should go to Gregori’s now and stay with him until the choice is made.”

  “Huh?” Jake blinked. He waved off Gideon’s suggestion. “What if the deaths don’t have to do with eliminating the candidates but with eliminating all of us? It won’t matter where we are, and huddling together is probably what the ... killers want us to do.”

  “You can’t even say it, can you?” Gideon chuckled. “You’re going to have to learn to say it.”

  “I can say it.”

  “I think we’d be safe with Gregori. Nothing will get past his people.”

  “That’s a misuse of the word ‘people.’ But yes, you’re right. Maybe that’s a good idea. Running to Gregori like wimps would be a surefire way not to be chosen. Let’s pack.”

  Gideon rose like a shot, anger coloring his normally pale complexion. “Jake, just because you don’t want it doesn’t mean it’s not worth having.”

  Jake sighed. “I know you want it, Gideon. And I know you’re willing to make the necessary sacrifices. I’m just not sure I am anymore.”

  A slow smile crept across Gideon’s face, replacing the hard set of his lips. He laughed. “Because of Abby. Your little matchstick girl has changed you. She took away your ambitions.”

  “Don’t call her that.” Jake’s eyes darkened. Gideon was his friend. It bothered him that lately he had to keep reminding himself of that fact.

  “Sorry. I know you hate it.” Gideon paused. His next words were free of contempt. “You could keep her, Jake. Take her as your mate. Then if you’re chosen, you won’t lose her.”

  “You think I want to do that to her? Do you think I could subject her to that?”

  “You want her, don’t you? You would never have to lose her.”

  Jake refused to contemplate that possibility. He wouldn’t use Abby to further his position with Gregori, and he wouldn’t manipulate her or enthrall her. If she wanted him, it had to be of her own free will.

  “It’s 7:15. Everyone will be here soon.”

  Gideon checked his watch again. “Right. Let’s finish this conversation later.”

  “Let’s not.” Jake unlocked the door and left the room. He didn’t see the dark grin Gideon leveled at his back as they emerged into the foyer, but he felt it.

  * * * *

  Abby lingered in the dining room when Jake’s guests began to file out with the remnants of their dinner drinks in hand. Martin’s announcement, that dessert and Irish coffee would be served
in the game room, got them all moving again after the roast-turkey-induced lethargy set in.

  Jake loitered by the sideboard and whispered something to Mrs. Darden, his secretary, as she made her way around the table toward the door. The gray-haired woman laughed and winked jauntily at him, snaring her half-finished Chardonnay from the table as she passed.

  Despite Jake’s grin, Abby knew something was bothering him. Ever since Gideon had spoken to him alone in the library, Jake seemed oddly disconnected. Still he played the gracious host to the handful of employees and business associates who had no other holiday plans. No one else but Abby would have noticed the distant look in his eye.

  Abby noticed because everything about Jake captured her attention. She’d been trying all evening to catch his eye but aside from a brief glance in her direction when he’d raised his champagne for the traditional toast, he’d avoided her gaze for hours.

  Leaving the dining room at the right moment was like a dance. It had to be timed to perfection or it would look awkward and contrived, as though she’d planned to catch him under that damned mistletoe.

  She watched the procession of guests the way Gideon watched stock quotes. Mrs. Darden left, followed by George Goffing, Jake’s maintenance director. He was a nice man, fiftyish and widowed like Mrs. Darden. Next, the Carters, Ross and Rita, sidled out. They owned the furniture distributor that Jake used when his contracts called for interior design as well as exterior construction. Then came Murray Greenspan, Jake’s accountant, followed by Laura Dansk, Gideon’s flavor of the month.

  That was an uncharitable thought, Abby reprimanded herself as she skirted the table behind Laura. The woman worked in a body sculpting salon, which was a haughty title for a new age massage parlor. She wore a dress that wouldn’t have kept her warm in the middle of August. Abby had seen placemats that utilized more fabric. Her blonde hair crackled from a liberal application of hair spray and her perfume had begun to wilt the red and white roses of the centerpiece halfway through dinner.

 

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