“I think you and Storm should stay here,” Lou said. “Share the bed. I’ll take the chair.”
Stormy held up a hand. “No way, Lou. I’m going to my own room. Don’t worry, I’ll lock up. Believe me, if anyone tries to get in, you’ll hear me. I’m only two doors down. ’Night, Maxie. See you in the morning.”
“’Night.”
Stormy and Jason left them then. Lou sighed, not liking it a bit, Max knew, but he also knew better than to argue with Stormy. You couldn’t win. Then he turned to Max. “How about you?”
“What kind of a question is that?”
He actually smiled, just a little. She saw it, before he moved to the closet for the extra blanket and pillow tucked inside on a shelf.
“Lou, don’t sleep in the chair. Come on, I promise your virtue will be safe. You’ll be miserable in that little chair all night.”
“I’ll be fine.”
She sighed. “You don’t trust me. Do you honestly think I’m so damn desperate for you that I’d attack you in your sleep, even though I just got my head bashed in? Jesus, Lou, is that what you really think of me?”
“I don’t think that at all.”
“No? Then prove it.” She slid underneath the covers and patted the spot beside her.
He stood there, blanket and pillow under one arm, halfway between the chair and the bed.
“Maybe it’s not me you don’t trust? Maybe it’s yourself.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She shrugged. “Well, if you trust me, and you trust yourself…” She patted the bed again.
Lou sighed and came to the bed. “Fine. If it’ll make you settle down and go to sleep.” He sat down, tossed the pillow behind him and lay back on it. On top of the covers.
Man, he just wasn’t taking any chances, was he? she thought. He shook the extra blanket out and laid it over him, closed his eyes.
Max wriggled underneath the covers, maneuvering her jeans off, then tossed them onto the floor. “You gonna sleep in your clothes, Lou?”
“Yep.” He reached out for the lamp beside the bed and snapped it off. “’Night, Maxie.”
“’Night, Lou.”
The vampire knew when they returned to his domain. He felt their presence, sensed it as clearly as he could sense the sunrise. And hers most of all.
It’s good that you returned, he told Jason Beck, invading the man’s mind as easily as he could stroll through a moonlit garden. I would not have been pleased had you broken your word to me.
Beck sat up in his bed, looking around his darkened motel room. But the vampire wasn’t there. He relaxed slightly when he realized that. “How much longer do you think I can keep them here? They’re getting suspicious of me.”
The vampire knew it was true. But mostly the young man was impatient to have his sister back. Too bad. He wasn’t ready yet. He needed to know more about the woman. There was something terribly wrong—with her, with his own feelings, with this entire situation. And he hadn’t lived for centuries by rushing into situations without first knowing all the risks.
Be patient, he told Beck. It won’t be much longer.
“I want my sister back,” the man said. “I want her back soon.”
The vampire didn’t reply.
Beck went on. “You said you wouldn’t hurt my friends. But you hurt Max last night.”
Not me. One of my henchmen. It was a mistake, and one for which he will be punished.
“I can’t betray them unless I know they won’t be harmed,” Jason Beck said.
So the young man had a hint of honor, of nobility. Not one strong enough that he would risk his sister’s life, however. Best to reassure him, ensure his continued cooperation, the vampire decided. It won’t happen again. I give you my word.
And then, before Beck could reply, he retreated from the man’s mind to focus on the myriad things plaguing his own.
Lou knew damn well that he was taking a huge risk. Lately, he’d been thinking about Max in ways he’d managed to avoid until now. Getting into bed with her was going to make things far worse. And damn, he didn’t want her to know how attracted to her he was. She would never let up if she knew—not until he gave in. And giving in would end up ruining them both. She would build up romantic fantasies, while he fought to keep things purely physical. She would get hurt, and she would end up hating him. Hell, if he hurt her, he’d end up hating himself.
He couldn’t give her what she wanted: a deep, abiding, romantic kind of love. He didn’t have it left in him. His heart had been emptied a long time ago. There was nothing inside it to give to her.
It wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it.
And yet he let her twist him around her little finger, just like he always had. He got into that bed knowing damn well it was a bad idea, partly because there had been a hint of hurt in her eyes when he said no, and partly because he wanted to be there as badly as she wanted him there.
So when he woke the next morning, he was not surprised to find Max’s little body wrapped around him like a spider monkey. She’d kicked off her covers and rolled onto her side, facing him. Her head lay on his chest, so that the mingled scents of her hair and the antiseptic the doctor had applied surrounded him. Her arm lay across him, hand resting on his shoulder. He lifted his head just slightly to look down at her. And, hell, her thigh was across his body—across his pelvis. And it was firm, and naked, and way too damn delectable.
He felt a stirring in his groin and realized he had to ease out from under her before she woke, because in a minute more, she would know beyond any doubt that he wanted her. But even as he started to shift, she sighed softly, squeezed his shoulder and lifted her head to blink at him with sexy, sleepy eyes. “’Morning, Lou.”
“’Morning.”
She smiled slowly, and her hand moved to his face, palm rubbing his cheek. “Stubbly. I like it.”
“Max…”
She moved a little closer, then ran her cheek across his.
Jesus, he was going to catch fire if she didn’t get off him soon. “Time to get up, honey. How’s your head?”
“Achy. Sore. And the pain med the doc gave me is still making me a little loopy, I think. At least, that’s what I’ll say when you yell at me later.”
“Why will I yell at you later?”
“’Cause I’m going to kiss you good morning.” She turned as she said it, so her face was very, very close to his. Her mouth, her lips, no more than a breath away. “Don’t worry, you won’t even enjoy it. Morning breath and all.”
He hadn’t slept. Had been up pacing three different times and had brushed his teeth the last time—mortified at the prospect that he would have offensive breath and she would be close enough to notice.
She moved closer. She smelled like peppermint. He could have turned his head away. Yeah, he could have—if he were made of stone, maybe. But he wasn’t made of stone, and he didn’t turn his head. He stayed still, and hated her for moving so slowly that he had plenty of time to avoid her. Hated that she was going to know, no matter what kind of spin he might try to put on this later—she was going to know—he’d wanted this.
And then some.
Her lips pressed to his, soft and moist, and her eyes fell closed, lashes sweeping downward to rest on her cheeks. Her breath stuttered out of her as her mouth locked to his with gentle suction, and one of her hands slid along the side of his face and upward, into his hair, while the other moved in tiny circles, fingers kneading, on his chest.
Every practical, logical thought process came to a grinding halt as Lou’s insides melted like butter in the sun. He lost every sense except that of feeling. Her mouth on his, moving, hungry. Her body, stretched over his, and the almost imperceptible movements of her hips—so slight, so subtle. And her thigh over his groin, pressing, moving. Oh, God. His palm was skimming over that smooth, taut thigh now, and he didn’t remember moving it. He was kissing her back. Jesus, he was kissing her back.
He slid his hand into her
hair, to hold her head just right…but his fingers touched the edges of the bandage at the back of her head. And that reminded him of the sight of her lying there, on the pavement. His fear. The creature bending over her. His own fury. Then gathering her up into his arms, every protective instinct on high beam.
This was Maxie. This was his adorable, intrepid, pain-in-the-ass best friend. What the hell was he doing?
He opened his eyes, gently cupped her face and pulled back, breaking the kiss. Her eyes opened, sexy and full of green fire. “Oh, Lou…”
“Don’t, Max. This is…a bad idea.”
She pouted, but rolled off him. “At least I know the truth now.”
“What truth is that?” He sat up in the bed, turning his back to her to put his feet on the floor.
“That it’s mutual. You feel it, too.”
“I tried to explain this to you before, kid. I’m human, and I’m male. A pretty girl kisses me, there are certain reactions that are going to happen. The body takes over, and the mind kind of shuts down. It’s a guy thing.”
“And that’s all it was. Physical.”
“That’s all it was.”
She sighed. “I think you’re a liar.”
“Well, I think you are,” he shot back, eager to change the subject. He got to his feet, hard as hell and determined to keep his back to her, so he only looked over his shoulder as he said it, and kept walking toward the bathroom.
“I’m a liar? What did I lie about?”
“The morning breath.”
She smiled slowly. “I found one of those mints they leave on the pillows.”
“You’re sneaky as hell.”
“But I taste like heaven.”
Her eyes burned into his, and he had to force himself to turn away, open the bathroom door and step inside for a brisk, frigid shower.
Forty-four years old, he told himself. He felt about seventeen when he was around her, and randy as a billy goat on the Fourth of July. Damn.
12
Someone tapped on the door while Lou was in the shower and Max was still hugging the pillow to her chest and grinning like a loon. Despite her lingering headache, she floated off the bed and danced to the door to peer through the peephole. Stormy stood on the other side, laptop under her arm, a fistful of tangled cords and cables. Behind her, Jason balanced a tray of foam coffee cups on top of a large white box that looked for all the world as if it had come from a bakery. Hot damn, she sure hoped so.
“One sec,” she called. Then she pulled on her jeans and opened the door.
“Since I don’t know jack about debugging my room or Jay’s,” Stormy said, traipsing inside to set the laptop on the nearest surface, a round table against one wall, “we’re having our breakfast meeting here.” She scooped up the magazines and motel pamphlets, and tossed them onto the nightstand. Jason came in, and set the bakery box and the coffee on the table, as well.
“We’re pretty sure it’s only the phones that are bugged,” Max said. “Still, better safe than sorry.”
Stormy paused in plugging in cables, straightened and looked around. “We need more chairs. Jay, go get the ones out of our rooms, will you?”
She tossed him a key, and he hurried away even as she plugged in the power cord, then the telephone line for the modem. Stormy gave a glance toward the door as if to be sure he was gone, then another toward the bathroom, where she could hear the shower running, then another toward the rumpled bed, and finally she met Max’s eyes. “Any luck?”
“A little. I kissed him.”
Stormy grinned. “He didn’t run for the hills?”
“Nope. He kissed me back.”
“Details, kid. I want details.”
Max reached for a coffee cup, pulled up a chair and tried to keep the triumphant grin off her face as she filled Stormy in on every intimate second of it. She was just getting to the part where Lou ruined it all by trying to explain it away with his version of an anatomy lesson when the shower shut off. At the same moment, Jason arrived with two desk chairs.
“Later,” Max mouthed. “So what did you bring?”
“Pastries. There’s a bakery in town—opened at 5:00 a.m. I borrowed the Bug, went for a drive to clear my head,” Stormy said.
They had keys to each other’s vehicles. In fact, there was very little she and Stormy didn’t share.
“Next time you do that,” Max said, “try driving in the other direction.”
“Huh?”
“The air outside Endover is much more conducive to head-clearing,” she explained.
Stormy nodded. “Yeah, I noticed that, too.”
Max opened the box, eyed the selection of muffins, Danishes, turnovers.
“I ordered a breakfast pizza, too,” Storm said. “It’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“Damn, you must be hungry.”
“I was up most of the night.”
Max frowned. Jason was situating the chairs around the table. There were three desk chairs now, and one easy chair. Lou came out of the bathroom, his hair wet, jeans and T-shirt looking sinfully good. He wore forty-four the way Harrison Ford had worn forty-four. It ought to be illegal to look that good. At any age.
She dragged her attention back to Stormy. “Why were you up all night? You okay?”
“Fine, just wide awake. Couldn’t sleep.”
No wonder she couldn’t sleep, Max thought, given what she’d been going through lately. Those flashes and lapses in her memory. An attack by a wolf and maybe some kind of newly developed psychic ability. Not to mention speaking in tongues.
“I spent the night doing research,” Stormy went on. She looked fine, Max thought. Not tired or run-down. She was already tapping the keyboard. The modem screamed like a cat with someone standing on its tail. “I ran a search on missing persons and on Endover, New Hampshire. What I found was…interesting.”
She waited for a page to load, reached into the box for a Danish and handed it to Max. Then she held her open hand out, and Max reached for the coffee. “Which cup is yours?”
“It has an S on the lid.” Stormy said it without looking up.
Max nodded, took the cup from the cardboard tray and put it into Stormy’s hand.
“Here, here’s the list of hits. I sorted it by limiting it to newspaper articles containing both those phrases.”
“Lots of Endover folk tend to vanish?” Max asked.
Lou was pulling up a chair and settling into it, so Max spotted the cup with the L on the lid and handed it to him. His fingers brushed hers when he took it from her, drawing her eyes to his. They met and held just for a second; then he looked away.
Was he regretting that kiss? Probably. But she was damn sure he’d enjoyed it.
“That’s just it,” Stormy said. “Not a lot of Endover people vanish, but a lot of people seem to vanish in Endover. Take a look.”
Max got up and leaned over Lou, her head close to his. The screen showed a list of sites that had articles including the search phrases, each one highlighting the related sentence. “Last seen in Endover, New Hampshire” was the common theme.
“Looks to me,” Lou said, “as if strangers who pass through Endover tend to vanish without a trace.”
“My God,” Jason said. “How long has this been going on?” He had come closer, too, leaning over the others to get a look at the computer screen.
“Three years, near as I can tell,” Stormy said.
Lou nodded firmly. “This is excellent work, Storm. Have you read the articles?”
“Yeah.” She clicked the address-book button, and it opened to reveal a list of Web site URLs. “These are the ones that were pertinent. All female. All attractive. And all fairly young, though none as young as Delia and Janie.”
“But…but what happened to them? To the others?” Jason asked.
“I don’t know yet. It took me a while to get this far. Now we need to search for follow-up articles. And that’s going to generate a ton of hits—so many people with the same names,
you know? It’s going to take some time to sort them all, figure out what’s relevant and what’s not.”
“That’s your plan for this morning, then,” Max said. “Stay on this, Storm. Jason, stay with her. Make sure no one gets near her, understand? That attempt on me last night was no accident.”
Stormy nodded. “What are you going to do?”
“First, Lou’s going to debug your phones. Then he and I are going to find a print shop and get a few hundred posters of the girls made up, and post them around town and interview as many of the locals as we can manage.”
Jason got up, taking out his wallet and tugging out a photo. “You can use this.”
He handed her a snapshot of Janie and Delia in evening gowns. Probably at a prom. It made Max’s throat tighten up to see it.
Stormy nodded. “Great. Sounds like a plan. While you’re out, Max, see if you can find us some decent maps of this place.”
“What kind? Road maps? Or topographic?”
“Either. Actually, both. The more the better.”
There was a knock on the door. Everyone looked up, but it was Lou who went to open it.
A young boy stood on the other side with a pizza box and a bicycle. He smiled broadly—big gums, unnaturally small, unevenly spaced teeth, almond eyes and a rounded face. “I brought your pizza,” he said, his voice as thick as the mop of black hair atop his head.
“You sure are a busy kid,” Lou said. “Didn’t I see you delivering newspapers earlier?”
“Need money so I can go to school.”
“Oh, yeah? You don’t go to public school here in Endover?”
“Yeah, but I don’t like it here.”
“Why not?”
The boy shrugged. “Ten-fifty,” he said.
Lou tugged out his wallet. “What’s your name, son?”
“Sid.”
“And how old are you, Sid?”
“I’m ten. Almost ’leven.”
“I’m surprised the pizza place would hire such a young delivery man.”
Sid flashed a grin. “It’s my uncle’s pizza place,” he explained.
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