by Marie Jermy
Until that is, they returned to the hotel after having a late dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant. She didn’t even want to sit down and listen to a CD with Scott in the lounge area, so he led her out onto the balcony and lay beside her on an oversized and cushioned recliner. Archie, on the other hand, stayed in the lounge, and she soon heard the TV.
Scott turned them to their sides and drew her into his arms. His arms were like bands of warm steel, and she knew she would always find safety and comfort in them. Just a pity he didn’t love her. And he still hadn’t told her about his scars. The remnants of his woodsy cologne relaxed her somewhat. Scott, she began telepathically, would you mind if we didn’t stay another night?
“No, of course not. McNulty and Lavengro have gotten all they’re gonna get out of us.” Her blank and unresponsive eyes flew and locked with his. “No cameras, no bugs, Leia, just you and me.”
“Oh, yes, I’d forgotten.” She relaxed further. “Tomorrow when we leave here, will you take me straight home? I need familiarity.”
“You needn’t even have to ask. I understand.” And he did.
“And stay with me?”
“Of course.” Even if Leia wanted to stay at his apartment, the fact that he had a vampire staying there didn’t even enter Scott’s head. Besides, he wanted to share Leia’s Jacuzzi with her. There had been no contest. Despite its size and gold-plated faucets, the bath in the suite was a real disappointment, and not just because of the cameras overhead either—it was just a plain, boring tub.
“Describe the view.”
“Beautiful.”
She just knew he was staring at her. “Not me, you schmuck!”
There was a rumble of laughter followed by a short silence, then, “There’s a full moon.” He sat up and removed his tee and his shirt. Then, laying down and drawing her into his arms again, Scott’s cold hand guided Leia’s warm one to those five scars. “Like you, Leia, I also believe. A werewolf attacked me almost six years ago. I told Laura. And Sam,” he added after a hesitant second.
“What about Jessica and Ross?”
No hesitant second this time. “No. Six years ago, they weren’t part of my life. And I know they’re both believers, too, but as you know, I don’t share things easily.”
Leia believed him. Well, that was a start, she decided. Just a pity Scott wouldn’t go one further and reveal the secret of the ‘Federation.’ Yet she knew, particularly if that dream she’d had that morning was anything to go by, that one day soon she would know everything. She had to ask him about the man in her dream, though, because he matched the mental image she had of Ray Ferris.
As well as his daughter, Jessica, Leia knew Ray had a son, Daniel, so this man was either Ray’s younger brother or another son. And she was leaning more toward the latter. “I just want to put a face to the name and the voice, so can you describe what Sam Carrick looks like?”
“Sure. But you’re not going to think I’m interested in men or anything, are you?”
“Perish the thought!”
He laughed. “Let’s see. Well, he’s my height, so six-foot, and athletically built. Dark-blond hair with just a touch of gray, which sucks. He’s fifty-eight to my thirty-two, and yet I’m going grayer than a rain cloud.”
Leia laughed at Scott’s vanity, an attribute he definitely didn’t have. “What color are his eyes?”
“Blue. And they have these amber flecks in them.”
Yep, Sam Carrick was definitely the man in her dream. She refrained from asking about his fangs as she knew Scott wouldn’t admit his friend was a vampire any more than he would with Henry Pakefield. Not that it mattered. The sense that Sam, Henry, and the ghosts she’d felt at Magnum Investigations were all connected to the ‘Federation’ were as clear as her dream. She did have one question. Before she opened her mouth, however, Scott got there before her.
“Leia, I know you’re bursting to know what Sam’s connection to Jessica is, so I’m going to tell you. But that’s it, nothing else. It’s up to you then whether or not you want to ask your friend for the full story. Sam Carrick is Jessica’s much older half brother.”
Stunned was what Leia would describe herself as. Absolutely stunned. But it had nothing to do with brother-sister revelation because she’d already worked that one out for herself. No, she was stunned because relation, friend, or whatever, Jessica hadn’t said anything about knowing a vampire.
As good friends and firm believers, they’d shared everything about the paranormal. Or so she thought... Unless Jessica didn’t know herself. Should she tell her? Was it her place to? On both counts, Leia quickly and firmly decided no. Scott had said it wasn’t his business telling her that Jessica and Sam were related, so it wasn’t her business to tell her friend that her half brother was a vampire.
“Leia? Honey?”
Scott’s endearment spoken with that strong voice of his broke through her thoughts. He hadn’t said it all day, and she’d missed it. The coldness of his hands splayed on her back seeped through her cardigan, but all she felt was heat. Despite the wrench that he didn’t love her, she still wanted him. Desire began to build in her belly, and her pussy puddled with wetness.
Moving her hand from where it lay on his scars, she reached up and mapped his handsome face with her fingers, from the familiar frown, the straight nose, lean cheeks, the strong jaw now bristled with a five o’clock shadow, and to the firm and kissable lips.
A soft moan tumbled past her own lips when his tongue laved her fingertips. She dragged the wetness down the column of his throat and circled where his pulse beat in the hollow. She felt his head inclining toward hers for a kiss, but she held him back. Both hands now mapped his broad shoulders, the rock-hard chest, the well-defined abs that quivered beneath her sure touch, finally down over the waistband of his jeans to palm the long, rigid length of his cock stretching the denim.
Leia unerringly locked eyes with Scott. “I know I can’t see you, Scott, but you feel wonderful to me.”
“Thank you. That’s one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever had,” he said.
“Make love to me?”
“No, honey, make love with me.”
On a breathless sigh—did Scott love her after all?—she fell for him all over again, only twice as hard, as he deftly removed all their clothing and settled himself between her thighs.
The wetness in her pussy turned from a puddle into a gush as the plump head of his rigid cock impatiently prodded and poked her entrance. Yet he took his sweet time nibbling and licking hot lines down her neck and across her shoulders, his icy fingers tweaking and teasing her nipples into painful nubs.
Leia arched up when Scott’s mouth enclosed over her right nipple and suckled gently. Then he bit down and sucked hard, making her pant and writhe in delicious anticipation even as his cold hands clasped her hips and the torrid flesh of his cock slid home in one effortless and heart-stopping thrust.
“Ah, honey,” he groaned as she wrapped and locked her legs around him. Familiar heat built in his balls, coiling and spiraling out of control as he moved in and out, her honeyed juices coating his cock. Then she clutched his shoulders, her nails digging deep, and he couldn’t take it any longer. “Leia!” he shouted, “Come with me!”
Always. A silent scream pushed up from her throat as she splintered around him, the dizzying tremors of his own climax fueling her next and unstoppable thought. I love you.
Feeling Scott tensing as he collapsed on her, wheezing as though suffering an asthma attack, Leia decided she’d just made a very big mistake in admitting to what she felt, but a split-second later, the tautness loosened, his breathing evened, and the silent words that slid into her mind had her welling up.
And I love you. So, so much.
Scott rolled them then and tucked Leia safely into his side. He brushed the wetness from her cheeks with his thumbs and tenderly kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, and her lips. What she did next was unstoppable, too. She yawned. Somewhat mortified, her
hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, God! Sorry.”
“Well, if you can’t yawn in front of God…” he began but broke off laughing when she pinched his ass really hard. “I’m also tired. All that walking you and Archie put me through. Hang on a minute.”
He pulled away, and she heard the whisper of fabric and the grating of a zipper; no doubt Scott was putting his jeans and shirt on. His T-shirt was tugged down over her head and arms and then, one arm around her waist, the other under her knees, he was lifting and cradling her against his solid body.
“Do you mind? Or do you want Archie?”
“You. Definitely you.”
“Honey, you’ll always have me.”
On a high, Leia sighed and snuggled farther into Scott’s arms as he stepped across the balcony threshold into the lounge area. The TV still blared.
“Archie, turn that TV off,” Scott ordered. “You’ll get square eyes.”
Leia giggled at Archie’s series of disgruntled woofs, but at least the room fell silent. Then, at the same time as Scott’s body tensed, she felt a truly horrible and evil presence. A terrified whine was followed by a whistle of air and then a loud, sickening ‘whack.’ Almost immediately, Scott crumpled. She hit the floor with a bone-jarring thud, the air crushed from her lungs when Scott’s inert body fell heavily over hers.
Pure fear coursed through her as she sucked in breath. Even when she’d lost her sight, she’d never felt this sense of panic before. What had happened to Archie? To Scott? Was he even still alive? She couldn’t feel him breathing. A whimper rose up from her throat.
Icy hands clamped around her wrists and dragged her free. The next second, they were around her neck squeezing the life from her. Survival instincts kicked in. Twisting and squirming, she kicked out with her legs and tried to prize the hands from her neck. But nothing was there, only an icy unyielding pressure cutting off her air supply.
The last thing Leia heard as she lost her grip on consciousness was a gruff male voice and the words, “Nighty-night.”
* * * *
Scott fought the thick bank of fog and slowly crawled his way back to consciousness. He blinked several times to register the sight before him. Archie was flat out on the floor, some sort of tranquilizer dart sticking out from his neck. And a heavy candelabra, its silver base spotted with crimson, lay nearby.
He pushed to his knees, the movement making him acutely aware of two things—the pain piercing his skull and the wetness trickling down the inside of his collar. He touched a hand to the back of his head, and when he withdrew, he saw his fingers were smeared in blood. Well, that accounted for the candelabra—obviously his head and its base had been introduced to each other.
A trip to ER was more than likely required. However, he shoved the throbbing tattoo in his head and his own health aside to concentrate on more important matters. Like Archie. He reached out and touched his bloodied hand to the dog’s body, relief washing through him at the steady inhale and exhale under the fur. Just drugged, not dead. He still needed a veterinarian.
What the hell had happened? The last memory he recalled was Leia in his arms, climaxing together, her telepathic words of love reciprocated with his own, prolonging his euphoric state. Where was she? He knew he wouldn’t find her in the suite. Or the hotel.
His blood ran cold. Something had happened to Leia, and it was his fault. The anguish that bubbled and clenched his gut was joined by another emotion—anger—and his chilled blood heated to boiling point. Whoever was responsible, be it McNulty or Lavengro, would pay with their life.
Scott pushed to his feet and staggered over to one of the dining table chairs where his leather jacket hung, fighting a wave of blackout nausea with every step. He removed his cell from the inside pocket, flipped it open, and went to dial but faltered when he realized he didn’t know of any veterinarians. The animal blood he’d acquired for the mini bank in the concealed sleeping area under his mattress came from a taxidermist. And Archie didn’t need stuffing.
His cell then jingled with an incoming call. Ross Anderson. In his current state with his head threatening to explode, he didn’t know whether he should be pissed or pleased. The buttons began to blur, but he managed to answer it.
“What—”
“Scott! Don’t hang up!”
On the verge of doing just that, Scott fought another wave of nausea when it registered Anderson had said his first name. He couldn’t actually recall a time when Anderson had done that, even eighteen months ago when they first met. Had something bad happened? As if Leia’s kidnap wasn’t bad enough. “I’m here,” he croaked.
“I’ve just heard it on the wire that Senator Charles Williamson has committed suicide. Well, really I should say former Senator. Apparently, he slashed his wrists with a razor blade that had been smuggled into the prison where he was serving his murder one sentence. Didn’t think he had the balls.”
All at once that niggle of foreboding he’d had since he stepped through the Manhattan Heights’ lobby clicked and everything became clear. Leia had been right. Professor Rogers hadn’t been the target. Nor had it been another shape-shifter. He was the target. And aside from McNulty and Lavengro, Charles Williamson was involved up to his murdering neck!
The fury inside overwhelmed him, and the room began to rock before his eyes just as another wave of nausea slammed into him.
“Scott? Are you still there?”
“Manhattan Heights. Lib…” He took a gasping breath. “Lib… Liberty Penthouse Suite…”
Then for the second time that night, Scott crumpled to the floor.
* * * *
The moment Lieutenant Ross Anderson entered the lobby of the Manhattan Heights Hotel, he was not only approached by a distinguished-looking, dark-haired man in a pinstripe suit, but the ticking in his head that had been present ever since his phone call to Scott got progressively louder. Either he’d developed tinnitus or a bomb was set to explode.
“You are police officers, yes?” the man in the pinstriped suit asked.
A stride behind Anderson, Detective Mike Travis, his former partner and now second-in-command, snorted.
Anderson studied the pinstriped man who was sweating so much he was surprised it hadn’t pooled around his shiny black shoes. He quickly ran an eye down his uniform then flicked a glance at Travis, also in uniform. Well, they weren’t in fancy dress! He flipped out his ID and introduced himself. “Lieutenant Ross Anderson. 19th Precinct. And you are?”
“Alan McNulty, manager of the hotel.”
Anderson ignored the business card McNulty’s sweaty hand produced and for the first time noticed a man dressed in a ridiculous blue and gold-trimmed uniform that was at least two sizes too small being flanked by two other men. Though still gold-trimmed, their uniforms were a darker blue, less ridiculous, and fitted impeccably. With a tight grip on the man’s arms, he presumed they were security guards. One of them held a laptop case, the other a handful of what looked like CDs.
Something was going on that he really didn’t have the time to deal with. “Mike,” he said to Travis, who was looking around the ornate surroundings with the same indifference he felt, “deal with whatever’s going on here. I’m going up to the Liberty Penthouse Suite.”
“Liberty Penthouse Suite?” McNulty squeaked, a new sheen of sweat popping across his brow.
“Yes. Why, do I need a warrant? Because believe you me, I can get one quicker than you can blink.” Then on reconsideration, he said, “Mike, call the unit. I want this hotel closed down and sealed tighter than a drum. If a gust of wind blows through, I want to know about it.”
“Ross, I mean, sir.” Taking a cell from his belt, Travis dialed and started barking out orders like a coin-spitting slot machine gone mad.
McNulty inched forward. “Did I hear right? You’re closing the hotel?”
“That’s what I said.” Anderson threw McNulty an authority-laden glare, nodded to Travis, and then marched over to the elevator.
On the ride up to
the top floor, he recalled his phone call to Scott not half an hour since that ended with him shouting down the line when he’d heard what sounded suspiciously like body hitting floor. Scott was down, and it was hardly because he’d merely fainted at the news that Charles Williamson had committed suicide.
Anderson stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it. That infernal ticking was getting louder. He had no idea what Scott was doing at the hotel but did know that Leia was with him and that she was helping him with a Magnum Investigations case. His wife Jessica had informed him of that earlier in the day. She’d also threatened him with divorce if he didn’t butt out. But on a more serious note, if Leia was with Scott, why hadn’t she picked up the phone after his collapse?
A ping signaled destination reached. The doors slid open, and Anderson marched down the corridor, that ticking now resembling digits counting down...
Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. The door to the Liberty Penthouse Suite was wide open.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One. He entered.
And the bomb exploded.
* * * *
Something wet was licking his face, and there was some serious panting to be heard. Scott surfaced from a black hole, opened his eyes, and encountered a wet doggy nose, an even wetter doggy tongue and, bringing up the rear of a black furry body, a very waggy doggy tail. Archie!
Leia!
Scott bolted upright. Three things happened, possibly all at the same time. His head started spinning. Archie flew off his lap and over the curve of the bed. And Ross Anderson appeared.
The first he could handle—just. The second he would apologize for. The third…Well, he didn’t know what to do with Anderson. And wait a minute—the curve of the bed? Ignoring his spinning head, he took in his surroundings. The pristine white linen on the round bed, the plush ankle-deep carpet, the expensive teak furniture set against the walls, and finally the spotlights above, which he noticed were now hanging from their sockets.