by Tamara Hogan
It was a miracle she could hum a thing when her tongue kept falling out of her mouth.
Lukas swore without heat as the fish he’d been slowly reeling in spit up the hook. “Took the bait too, you son of a bitch,” he muttered, reaching into the white Styrofoam container at his feet and extracting another leech. Muscles shifted as he put the squirming leech on the hook and lifted the fishing rod over his head. With a flick of his wrist, line sang out of the reel, and the hook and leech hit the surface of the water with a soft plop about thirty yards out.
The tension lines around Lukas’s eyes had smoothed out a little, and regardless of what happened with their relationship, Scarlett was glad that he’d gotten this time away. He’d needed this as much as she had. Before she moved in with him, she had no idea he worked with the police as often as he did. It was after those calls from Gideon Lupinsky that Lukas most often reached for the Pepto-Bismol bottle.
Before last night, she hadn’t seen him get more than three hours of sleep at a time. But last night, she’d worn him out.
When she looked down to the dock again, she found him watching her with a glint in his eye. “Wanna help bait the hook?”
“Yeah, right.” They both laughed. Scarlett’s loathing for leeches was well-established. The screeching teenage hissy fit she’d pitched the one time a bloodsucker had innocently attached itself to her ankle had cracked most of the cabin’s windows. “Let’s not risk it. But I might be able to help.” After theatrically clearing her throat, she sang a series of high, clear notes that shivered over the water.
The fishing rod yanked in his hands, and he quickly set the hook.
While she mentally planned their menu, lightning flashed off to the west. The clouds were black and blue against the darkening sky, and thunder grumbled softly. Earlier in the day, the weathercaster on the scratchy local AM radio station had predicted a chance of thunderstorms, but… this was more than a chance. The front was coming in fast. “Lukas!” she called, pointing to the sky.
“Damn. Be up in a minute.”
She quickly rose from her chair and started buttoning things down. Folding the chaise, she put it inside the sliding glass door along with Sigmund, her recorder, and her notebook. Traveling the perimeter of the cabin, she closed and latched all the windows, closed the fireplace flue, and then went back outside to yank the flapping beach towels off the clothesline.
The lightning was getting close, and Lukas was landing a fish.
One eye on the sky, she trotted down to the dock to gather up the fishing gear so it wouldn’t blow into the lake. “Forget the damn fish!” she hollered into the wind as it pushed the scent of rain and ozone out ahead of it. Lukas unhooked the fish, placed it in the live box in the shallows adjacent to the dock, and then just… stopped. The muscles of his torso tensed and leaped. His nostrils flared. He tipped his head back to the elements, shuddering as he inhaled energy from the storm.
The wind gusted and swirled, but she was riveted to the spot. He looked glorious, with chest muscles ripped, and his loose hair streaming away from his face. Rain started to fall on the far side of the lake, a soft hush growing louder as it approached. Suddenly the hair on Scarlett’s arms stood up, and a lightning bolt cracked into a tree across the lake. Lukas latched onto her hand, pulling her to the nearest shelter—the sauna.
The spring loaded screen door snapped closed behind them, and they were enveloped in cedar scented heat.
“Wow, that was…” Scarlett dropped Lukas’s hand and rubbed at the gooseflesh on her arms. “That came up really fast.”
Lukas plucked a towel off one of the dressing area hooks and wrapped it around her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just wet.”
What a massive understatement. She couldn’t stop staring at him. He was as hard as a statue, and veins stood out atop his muscles in bas-relief. Raindrops glittered on his hair and skin, and barely leashed power seemed to spark off of him, just looking for an outlet.
For release.
She rested her hands on his rocky shoulders, felt him jolt at her touch.
Lukas erupted like a match set to gasoline, diving at her mouth like it was a lifeline. Rain blew in, soaking his calves. She was surprised the water didn’t turn to steam.
Rain pounded against the tin roof. Lukas picked Scarlett up and lay her on the worn cedar planking table. In the dim light, neither of them could see very well, but her nimble fingers worked the button and zipper of his shorts, spilling his hardness into her chilly hands. He peeled off her shorts and sodden bikini top, dropping them with a splat onto the cement floor.
Thunder rocked the small structure as lightning-hot pleasure streaked up her spine. Moaning, he plunged into her, as if doing so would save his life.
Chapter 22
Stephen caught his breath as he stood in Madame Bouchet’s hospital room doorway, taking in the military-straight white bedding, the bare shelves, and the freshly mopped floor. Her riotously colored quilt was gone, and the bedside table held a shrink wrapped plastic pitcher and glass for the next patient. It was anonymous. Sterile. Spotlessly clean.
Madame was dead.
Stephen rubbed at his sternum with his knuckles. Madame was dead, and Andi was fighting her medication—hard—and would soon regain consciousness. His only two sources of comfort were gone. What was he going to—
“Stephen,” a familiar voice said from behind him.
Dashing the wetness from around his eyes, he turned to see Peggy, the nurse who’d cared for him when he was in the hospital, wearing her habitually rumpled purple scrubs. Her face was soft with sympathy—sympathy for him. It was all he could do not to fall into her arms.
When she placed her hand on his shoulder, the beast nipped in warning.
“Ouch!” Peggy jerked her hand away.
“Sorry, I must have picked up some static from the carpet,” he said. Static, my ass. You left Andi before you were topped off. “When?” he choked out, indicating the empty room.
“About an hour ago,” she responded quietly, cradling her hand. “She died in her sleep.”
And her room was cleaned out already? Where were her family pictures, her memories? He sniffed deeply, but smelled nothing but industrial cleanser.
They’d completely wiped her out.
“What’s that?” Peggy said, pointing to a shot of color just under the bed.
The friendship bracelet he’d given her. As he stooped to pick up the cheap memento, his face crumpled like Kleenex. Madame was gone, and once Andi regained consciousness, he’d be captured, arrested, and thrown into whatever qualified as a prison on this backwater planet.
How long did he have before he was caught? Days? Hours?
As he turned to leave the room, he wondered if it really mattered.
***
The gut punch of ash jerked Lukas from a sound sleep. “Shit.” Stomach clutching with warning and his forehead blooming with sweat, he unwrapped his arms from Scarlett, slid out of bed, and broke all known land speed records to reach the toilet before he heaved.
While his body purged itself, a greasy ecstasy stained his psyche like a broken sewer line.
After long minutes, Lukas finally backed away from the toilet and leaned against the chilly wall tiles. Who died to get you off this time, you sick fuck?
If his reaction was an accurate barometer, the death had just occurred. Hours could pass before anyone found the victim—but that didn’t mean that he and Scarlett couldn’t leave now, so when the call came from Gideon, they’d be that much closer to home.
After a quick look in the bedroom to ensure Scarlett was still sleeping, he brushed the foul taste out of his mouth and then hopped into the tiny shower to wash the clammy sweat from his hair and body. Dressing in the dark, he grabbed the keys and a flashlight from the shelf by the door, then walked down to the dock to liberate last night’s catch from the live box. After a guilty glance up at the cabin, the leeches followed.
Picking up the fishing pol
e, tackle box, and net he’d dropped to the lawn when last night’s storm had broken, he carried them to the garage, put them away on their hanging hooks, and locked the door. He saved the sauna for last, ensuring that the wood stove fire was completely out. The essence he and Scarlett had left behind when they’d swallowed each other up the previous evening soothed him like a balm, taking the edge off the perp’s violent crap.
After one final gulp, Lukas walked back to the cabin. Quietly closing the screen door behind him, he turned on a single kitchen light to pack up perishables they’d have to take home. After setting the last grocery bag down next to the door, he went to the bedroom to wake Scarlett.
Her head was half-buried in the blankets, with just a hank of hair exposed, and she snored ever so lightly. It was a shame to wake her; they’d worn each other out last night. When they’d gotten back to the cabin after the worst of the storm had passed, she’d… taken control, gifting him with the hottest sexual experience of his life.
Sure, he could have broken the ties lashing his wrists to the old iron headboard at any time, but he… hadn’t.
And what a reward he’d received for relinquishing at least the illusion of control to Scarlett. She’d been ravenous, ferocious, determined to drive him wild. He couldn’t remember every mindless demand that had spilled from his lips, but she’d not only taken everything he had to give—she’d returned it tenfold.
After she’d untied him, kissed his wrists and lips, and then fallen into an exhausted slumber on his chest, he’d whispered aloud the words that had seethed inside him for so long—that he loved her. Loved her until he was sick with it.
“Scarlett. Wake up,” he whispered, kneeling next to the bed and stroking her hair back from her cheek.
She swatted vaguely at his hand, and then rolled over. When he nibbled on the vulnerable bump connecting her neck to her spine, she finally lifted her head from the nest of pillows. “What?”
Unfortunately there was no time to tip her annoyance to arousal. “There’s been another attack. We need to go home.”
She pushed up onto her elbow. “Who is it?”
“Jack hasn’t called yet.” Scarlett’s gaze darted to the bathroom, then back again. Yeah, she’d lived with him long enough to know how his low-tech early warning system worked. “I’m packing the car now. How long will it take you to get ready to leave?”
“Let me hop in the shower. I’ll be ready to go in twenty,” she said, sitting up and swiping her hair out of her face.
Lukas swallowed as the bedclothes fell to her waist. He tried not to look at her hard-tipped breasts, but it was a losing battle—especially when she lifted her arms over her head and stretched. He barely managed to hold back a possessive growl. With a sleepy, knowing smile, she dropped a soft kiss on his lips, hopped out of bed, and walked to the bathroom, her lean body gloriously and spectacularly nude.
He wanted her—as always—but rousing Scarlett from a sound sleep had felt cozily domestic. Intimate. There’d been no complaints about being woken up at the butt crack of dawn, no recriminations for cutting their time at the lake short. Just a trusting kiss, then up and at ’em, no questions asked.
What a woman.
It was actually closer to forty-five minutes later before they hit the road. The first part of the journey was slow going, with both of them keeping their eyes peeled for the twitchy deer that had an alarming tendency to dart across the road without regard for the gas-powered predators rumbling through their habitat. The gravel road finally dumped out onto pavement as the sun was rising. They shared coffee and a companionable silence as the big car chewed up the miles.
They finally reached the interstate. “Do you mind if I work for awhile?” Scarlett asked.
“Go ahead.”
She smiled her thanks and reached into that suitcase of a purse, whipping out her notebook and a portable recorder with a headset. And she hummed. Scribbled. Chewed on the end of her plastic pen. Hummed again, then opened her mouth and sang. About wetness, sinking, cresting waves, drowning.
“I’ll take you down with me…” she sang softly into the recorder, her lethal voice tugging at his dick with the same thoroughness as her lips and tongue had the night before. Her eyes glowed as she worked, and her mandarin essence quickly filled the enclosed space.
Lukas inhaled the erotic energy, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Great. Blow jobs on the brain, driving 75 mph on the interstate. Thank the aurora for small favors; at least she couldn’t hear him grinding his teeth to dust while she wore that headset.
On the center console, his mini-comp suddenly woke up, vibrating to a raucous “Me So Horny” ring tone. “What the hell.” He didn’t download ringtones. A flash of Antonia jumping into his arms for a hug the night of the family dinner flashed into his mind.
The little shit had picked his pocket, and he hadn’t felt a thing.
He looked at the tiny display window. This was it. He put the mini-comp on speaker. “Jack.”
“Lukas, where are you?”
“Southbound 35, just south of the Cloquet split. Who—”
“So you did taste it. Good.” Jack paused. “Well, not good, but you know what I mean. Two humans, one male and one female, discovered at a sex club operating out of a private home in Minneapolis. Place is zapped and trashed. Your corroboration indicates that it’s our guy.”
Humans. “Anyone we know?” Bailey must be fine, or Jack would be a mess.
“No.”
Lukas closed his eyes as relief washed through him.
“I’m about to leave the office and join Gideon at the scene,” Jack said. “The guy left this couple trussed up like Thanksgiving turkeys. Together, if you get my drift.”
“Christ,” Lukas muttered. “COD?”
“Looks like strangulation, with some electrical burns. Gideon thinks it’s possible that at least some of the bondage was consensual.” He sighed. “The scene is a mess.”
He glanced at Scarlett out of the corner of his eye. Last night he’d let her tie him up, surrendering more control than he ever thought he was capable of, but he knew her. Loved her. He couldn’t imagine what drove someone to take such risks with perfect strangers. “Consensual or not, I think it’s a pretty safe bet that this couple didn’t walk into that club last night thinking they’d never walk out again,” he said. “I place TOD at about 4:30 a.m.”
“That helps. Gideon did an initial run on their ID—no Council ties, no apparent Underworld ties, though a deeper dive is going to take awhile. Bailey’s on it.”
Lukas’s thoughts raced. What were they missing? What was he missing? Whoever this guy was, he was quickly racking up charges. Sexual assault. Attempted murder. First degree murder. But victimizing humans tipped the first degree murder charges into special circumstances territory. Automatic life sentence, with no opportunity for release. Though the human courts would never know about the trial, justice would be swift and sure.
If he ever caught the guy.
“Any witnesses? Surveillance equipment?”
Jack’s frustration was palpable over the phone line. “The owner claims not, says that her clients pay dearly for confidentiality, and that she provides it. People find out about the club through word of mouth. Very exclusive. Pay the cover, clear the metal detector, and you’re in.”
“Who takes the money?”
“A machine. A freaking machine, like at the car wash, can you believe it? Cash only.”
Damn. Even if they managed to lift some usable prints off the bills, they’d be absolutely useless if the guy wasn’t already in the system.
“But we might catch a break with Andi,” Jack said. “She’s fighting the medicine with all her might, and her doctors plan on bringing her out of her coma today.”
Lukas sat up straight. Scarlett glanced over at him and slipped off her headset.
“The case could be closed today.”
Lukas glanced at Scarlett as she closed her notebook and gazed out the window. Her int
oxicating scent was clouding over. “Keep me updated, Jack,” he said.
He disconnected the call and waited. Guilt and sadness swirled through the enclosed space, and Scarlett eyed the notebook like it was a snake. “I forgot why we came up here in the first place.” The self-condemnation in her voice sliced right through him. “How could I forget about Andi? About Annika? I—”
Her voice cracked, but she didn’t cry—thank god. Lukas didn’t think he could handle Scarlett’s tears in an enclosed space. “Don’t feel guilty for living your life,” he said. “Annika wouldn’t want that for you.” Lukas reached for her hand, laced his fingers between hers. Saw the faint bruises forming on her slim wrists.
When he tried to pull away from her, Scarlett simply tightened her grasp on his hand. “Don’t start that again.”
“Don’t feel guilty about bruising you?” Lukas dragged his attention back to the road momentarily, but made himself look at their linked hands again. “Damn, Scarlett—”
Her gaze bored into him as she morphed from sad to angry like quicksilver. “Do you remember me saying stop, or ouch, or making any protest of any kind? No, you don’t,” she answered before he could open his mouth. “You were right there with me, for every gasp and moan, every step of the way. As I begged you for more.” She paused. “Don’t you dare feel guilty for giving me exactly what I need. For being exactly what I need.”
The shock of what she said pushed the breath out of his lungs as effectively as one of Sasha’s sucker punches.
“Would you feel better if we had a safe word?”
Lukas gulped. Scarlett couldn’t fathom the things he’d done to her—the things she’d done to him—in the depraved safety net of his imagination. He was a sick bastard who needed to change the subject, fast, because his dick was as hard as steel, his thoughts were on fire, and he was navigating a two ton missile down the interstate.
“I think that was a yes,” Scarlett teased.
Lukas jerked his head to her notebook. “Why haven’t you been writing?”