Rachel was so happy that he was getting all his wisecracks out now, because in another second …
“He thinks that you’re the mastermind of a multi-million dollar drug cartel that’s has been sneaking drugs into Fairfield.”
“What? Me? Is he kidding?”
“No, he’s very serious. Wait …”
“Is someone coming?” Jake asked as he took a look around.
“No, it’s your collar. You know I can’t stand when things are out of place.”
Jake’s hands went up to it to straighten out the mess.
“You think you could make a goddamn exception, now Rach. I mean, this is fairly important, you stupid bitch!”
Rachel ignored Jake’s ill-humor and pushed his hands away. It’s what you did with prey – keep their guard down. They were just so easy to pacify. Jake was lucky that Siberia was occupied. If it hadn’t been, it would not be a quick hit. She would have seen to that.
“Here let me,” she said in a low, seductive tone. It was something he could recognize and he responded by sitting quietly and letting Rachel do all the work. He was good at that, and Rachel had no doubt that philosophy extended into his personal life – all the way to the bedroom.
Rachel carefully untied Jake’s bow tie.
“Can’t you fucking talk to me while you’re doing that? Cheesh!”
“You know I like to concentrate and this being all twisted,” she continued as she undid the stud on his collar and opened it up., “is taking up all my attention. There!”
Jake’s neck was exposed. Rachel groaned in response to the pleasure she was to receive.
“What the hell was that?”
“Me. I don’t think you’ve ever met the real me.”
Jake’s face wrinkled up in disgust at the mere suggestion of knowing any of the employees he wasn’t sexually interested in beyond doling out work.
“Look at me …” she ordered, her eyes blazing with a ferocity Jake had never seen. Jake’s eyes widened as Rachel opened her mouth. She hissed into his stunned face, hot saliva spraying onto his naked skin. His flesh burned where it struck. He felt sick – wanting only to wash it away. It stung his eyes and made them water. Through the fog of blurred vision, he saw two porcelain teeth – coming straight at him. There wasn’t time for anything except recognition of what was to occur. It made what was to happen even worse.
With lightning speed, she bit deeply into her hated boss’s jugular vein and began to suck.
CHAPTER 22
Miranda put down Jake’s missing Peugeot on the dresser – in the same place she’d found it. The morning was bright –matching Miranda’s mood. In spite of having another disturbing dream, she was ready to leave Fairfield and get back to New York. Her high spirits might be due to the fact she couldn’t fully recall the nightmare. The only detail she had retained was that someone had been attacked – in the dark. Who or why was a mystery as was why she’d experienced the nighttime journey into terror to begin with.
She finished off the last of her breakfast coffee while a half-eaten croissant called her name. She shouldn’t finish it, but the first few mouthfuls had been sinfully good. She quickly polished it off promising herself she’d work it off in the gym – but not today. She grabbed her cell phone making a call to her brother instead.
“Hello, Randi girl. Up with the birds are we?”
“Good morning Chasie … How goes it for my favorite brother? ”
“Well, I, for one, am exceptionally fantastic. I met the most awesome girl.”
“My brother? With a woman? No, tell me you jest!”
“Fun-nee, Randi girl!”
“Please do not tell me that you’re in love? And that she could be number three”
“Completely. Inexorably. Perfectly. Unconditionally. And I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“Oh, my God, you need a keeper,” Miranda said palming her face in her open hand. “And you’ve known this bimbo … I mean, young lady for how long?”
“Two days.”
“Two whole days? Moving slow, are we?”
“Not two days. Two wonderful days. We’re inseparable – except when she has to go to work.”
“She’s gainfully employed? Well, it seems you’re raising your standards. I am grateful for these small favors, I really am.”
Miranda sat down on the bed and threw her brush to the side. She heard her brother’s exuberant laugh on the other end of the line. She didn’t want to be the one to rain on his parade, but then again, how could she help not being concerned? Chase was impetuous and it sounded as if he were rushing things again, but then he always did. He would never learn. Never. She tactfully eased into pressuring him to put the brakes on his new adventure.
“Seriously Chasie, don’t you think you should slow it down a wee bit? Familiarity breeds contempt and all that?”
“Randi, you just do not understand. You’re hard-headed and pragmatic – just like dad used to be.”
“I might remind you that you are also just like father. After all, he did ask mother to marry him after only … and why am I saying this when I’m meaning to talk you out of being impulsive?”
They both laughed for a long while. Miranda lay back on the bed enjoying the small chat with her boyishly handsome brother. She didn’t know where the feeling was coming from, but she wanted him near. She was feeling the need to protect him even though she knew that he didn’t need her to do that for him. He was grown and a very capable, young man. Now if only he’d realize that. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d gone and gotten himself involved in yet another romantic liaison that was rattling her. She’d just have to let him make his own mistakes.
“Honestly, Randi. This girl is so different than anyone I’ve ever met before. I’d love for you to meet her. I think you’d get along.”
“Well, then why don’t I? I’m headed for New York in a few hours.”
“Today? But I thought ….”
“Yes, well, the Jake thing fizzled and got old quickly, so I’m on my way to greener pastures. The earliest flight I could get on was this afternoon.”
“Suppose that means a gabfest hook-up with Tiffany. How is she doing?”
“Fine. She tells me that she’s actually been working if you can believe that.”
“I don’t for a minute.”
“Me neither.”
They both laughed knowing that Tiffany would never be caught dead working. The unimaginable might happen and she might break into a sweat. Tiffany was willing to do that to keep her figure in shape, but not to make a living. Luckily, she didn’t have to. Her father was successful and loaded with currency that he lavishly showered on his beautiful, impulsive daughter.
“Well, have fun. I don’t think overspending is considered a felony. Lord, the shops in New York will have their welcome mats out for you two. They’ll all be able to buy that condo and put their children through college thanks to your and Tiffany’s efforts.”
“At least we’re doing our part to help the economy. So what do you think about the idea of meeting me there? You could spend a few days, hang out with Tiff and your little sister, and introduce us to your new girlfriend. What’s her name?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Miranda waited for an answer.
“Chase? Chase! You do know her name don’t you?”
“Oh, sorry, yeah, I know her name. There’s someone at the door. Can I call you back a little later?”
“Sure, Chasie. And please come to New York. Otherwise I might be forced to fly to Chicago and see you and wouldn’t that be horrible! I don’t have any friends in Chicago nor do I keep an apartment for business … which means I would be staying with you … which would put a serious crimp in your romantic adventures.”
“As if I wouldn’t love you dropping in.”
She heard Chase’s reassuring laughter on the other end of the phone. Intermingled with it were the sounds of faint knocking on Chase’s door.
“Bye, Randi girl.
”
She couldn’t let him hang up – not yet. There was something she needed to say. She sat up – screaming into the phone.
“Chase!”
It was too late.
Miranda stared at the phone she still held in her hand. She placed the phone on the bedstand, the overriding feeling of fear dissipating as quickly as it came over her. She felt foolish for letting her emotions get to her. She walked to the mirror, giving her hair a few strokes with her brush. The tranquility of the moment and the peace of her surroundings brought back her sense of equilibrium. She forgot all about Chase, her awful dream, and her histrionics. She was fine and headed to New York to visit the friend she considered family. She smiled, realizing that the only one that wasn’t fine was Jake – he was watchless, but not for long
Miranda had one more call to make – to the person that started her imagination going down the wrong highway. She owed him a big one for all the trouble and sleepless nights he’d caused, but how to mete out a deserving revenge? She didn’t have a clue. She walked back over the bed and picked up her cell phone. She hit speed dial, hearing the familiar voice
“Miranda,” Reginald shouted excitedly.
“Hello, Reginald.”
Reginald sat at his desk, staring straight ahead. A third cup of steaming hot tea was before him. He hoped it would wake him up and allow him to think more clearly than he was at the moment.
He was so happy she’d called. He hadn’t heard from her since she’d left for America. It was right before he’d started having those blasted dreams. He was partly glad the conversation was taking place over the phone and not in person. He knew that Miranda would have commented on the dark circles under his eyes. Still, it wasn’t enough to dispel the uneasiness about not having Miranda near. He would have moved heaven and earth to have her in England – right by his side. He didn’t want her in America, but how could he explain that to her in a way that made sense? Miranda didn’t deal with things on an emotional level. She needed a reason – a logical one. He had tried, but had no new ammunition to offer and so instantly fell into their familiar pattern of warm banter.
“How are you doing? I’m assuming famously since I haven’t heard a word from you for weeks.”
“Weeks? Hasn’t it been years and years?” Miranda teased going along with his humor. She heard his jocular laugh. She wished she could have given him a hug. “Listen, do you mind doing me a favor?”
“It’s dependent on what it’s worth to you. I’m not one of these headless chickens that run around doing your bidding for merely a pretty smile.”
Miranda realized that Reginald really must be missing her rather badly. It was his insistence on shadow boxing that gave his true feelings away.
“Oh, yes! There are so many at my beck and call.”
“Well, there would be if you weren’t so spiteful and nasty. Your haughty airs will get you into trouble one of these days. Now what is this favor you want of me? You realize my time is expensive.”
“Why you old codger! I’m not paying you one extra red cent! Not after father overpaid you all these years and you not doing a thing for any of it!” she shot back. She was treated to another round of what could only be described as stiff upper lip laughing.
“How you abuse me!”
“And how you love it! Seriously, Reginald, I’m wondering if you could mail me the appraisal that father got – for that Fabergé egg. You can send it to Tiffany’s address.”
“Miranda, it’s not a Fabergé. I told you that already. It really is worthless.”
“I do know the version of the story you told me. I just have this feeling that there’s more to it. Especially now that I’ve seen it again. Oh, why am I explaining this to you, you old wind bag! Email me a blasted copy in the meantime!” she barked as if issuing an edict. And just in case he took her at all serious, she added, “Pretty please with a pomaded snooty moustache on top?”
“Fine,” he relented. “I’ll have Cheryl look for it in the files. It has to be there somewhere. You do realize you’re causing me to do a lot of unnecessary work and all because you’re headstrong and unwilling to listen the first time!”
She saw the opening and went for it.
“Just like you to complain when it’s Cheryl that will be doing all the work! You just admitted so yourself. Bye and speak to you soon!”
Miranda hung up before Reginald could reply, feeling good about getting the best of him today. It wasn’t often she did.
Miranda took advantage of the late check-out time and stayed lounging in her hotel room until it was time to leave. She indulged in a long, soaking bath using the jet spray on her lithe, young body. The jets pounded hot water loosening and soothing her tight muscles. She got out and towel dried herself being sure to layer on tons of body lotion. The hotel provided a fragrant lemon verbena lotion that worked as aromatherapy to awaken her and keep her feeling fresh. She expertly applied the little make-up she wore in the daytime contemplating whether she should text Tiffany with the new time of her arrival. She decided against it. She’d surprise her. She’d also decided on surprising Jake, the bastard.
After dressing, she checked out and drove her rental car to Fairfield Museum instead of the airport. She had called his office several times to see if Jake was in and was told he hadn’t yet arrived. She didn’t want to try his personal cell phone. She resigned herself to leaving his precious watch with his assistant and flying to New York without seeing him. She was relieved that on her last call, she was told that Jake had finally crawled in around noon. It would make what she had to do that much easier.
Miranda used her signal and took a left turn wondering if it was that business associate he’d exchanged phone numbers with that caused his tardiness. If it was, she pondered whether she’d made it into her job on time and whether she was even able to walk. She knew what Jake was like when aroused. She supposed it didn’t matter and wondered if walking would be her only problem given Jake’s sexual preferences. She hoped she’d worn knee pads to prevent rug burns.
Miranda parked and bounded up the museum stairs. She was cheerily greeted and waved on into Jake’s office by his assistant, Theresa, who recognized her immediately. She knocked on the door hearing a very bleak voice telling her to come in.
She raced into the office and immediately saw what caused the strangled note in Jake’s voice. He was sick – or hungover. Either way, he was a mess.
“My goodness! Jake, are you alright? You look horrible!” she said scooting around to the other side of the desk. She needed to get a closer look at her ex-boy toy that clearly was hurting.
“I feel even worse,” he managed to rasp. There was a gravelly roughness to his voice that certainly wasn’t there yesterday – or any other day she’d spoken to him.
She gently ran her hands through his uncombed hair. His clothes looked wrinkled and disheveled. There was an old woolen muffler wrapped around his throat. His prominent chin was almost covered by it. Miranda surmised his throat must be sore and needing warmth. His voice denoted the onset of laryngitis.
She bent over being careful not to knock over the cup of hot tea on his desk, and gave him a mild hug. She knew what it felt like when coming down with an illness and didn’t want to make things worse by using unnecessary roughness. She stroked the sides of his face not quite believing her eyes. His skin was so pale. It looked lifeless and stretched over bones that were too large for it to cover. His eyes were sunken back into his face and held none of the vibrancy that they usually exuded. The light within them had been extinguished. It looked for all the world as if he’d had the life sucked out of him.
Something about the situation was reminding her of that bloody dream – and that was something she wanted to forget. She shivered, fighting off the feeling of panic traversing her body. She tried to calm herself by telling herself it was just a virus. People do get sick. It was just the timing that was getting to her. She attempted to lighten the mood if only to dilute her own anxiety.<
br />
“I don’t usually give advice, but I’d say Priscilla isn’t worth this. Was she that infectious as to pass on the Black Plague?”
Jake rolled his bloodshot eyes and grabbed his head.
“Priscilla? Who the hell is Priscilla? Oh, you mean, Phyllis.”
“Sorry, I can’t keep your women straight.”
“Whatever and, no. I wasn’t with anyone last night. I went straight home – a little after you left actually.”
Miranda felt guilty for making her snide remark. He was clearly in pain. She wondered why he had even come into work, but then remembered that he was a workaholic. It was one of his best attributes.
Adduné (The Vampire's Game) Page 32