So Tempting

by Jean Brashear

"Yeah. Scopolamine will make you horny as hell. Can't always do much about it, but you can sure have some crazy-ass fantasies."

  "So how do I track the source of this stuff?"

  "Man, that's a tough one, since jimsonweed is so common. While you're looking, though, check for a source for a weird macro-molecule."

  "Wait. didn't you say you found that in the girl's readings, too?"

  "Can't tell if it's the same, but whatever it is, I've never seen it before."

  "Victor, why didn't you find the datura in Sam's blood the first time? You did on the girl."

  "We weren't looking for alkaloids on him—they require special handling. We had different instructions on the girl. Alkaloids are thermally labile."

  "Do I want to know what that means?"

  He chuckled. "It just means they're heat sensitive. Different procedure required. The routine chromatography would destroy alkaloids."

  "Oh. So what now?"

  "You find another lab. This baby calls for equipment we don't have."

  "Where do I go?"

  "I'll check around, see if I can locate someone with the right set-up. Wish I could do it myself—this thing's got my interest."

  "Let me know yesterday, Victor." Jace rubbed her forehead again, wondering what it could mean.

  "You got it—hey, how was your meeting with Sabanne?"

  "Strange."

  "The man's got some esoteric interests, huh?"

  Thinking of silver eyes...of dark lovers behind iridescent curtains...Jace frowned. "You don't know the half of it."

  "Maybe he can help you with this macro-molecule."

  "How would he do that?"

  "What do you know about where he gets all that money?"

  "Nothing, really."

  "I've heard rumors that he holds the bulk of shares in Prince Laboratories."

  "What's that?"

  "Only one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in Europe." When she didn't respond, Victor laughed. "Well now, I never thought I'd see the day I'd silence Jace Carroll."

  "Very funny. Bye, Victor." Her thoughts whirling, Jace started to hang up the phone. "Wait—where's their headquarters?"

  "Athens, I think. I'll check on those labs, but meanwhile, you might want to talk to your ol' buddy Sabanne."

  Dante Sabanne knows more than he's telling.

  Jace pressed the disconnect button, staring but not seeing. Sonofabitch. Just how much did he know? Who was aware she'd been talking to him? Jace was always suspicious of something dropped into her lap. Who wanted her looking toward Dante Sabanne? And why?

  She flipped through her notes and punched in a set of numbers. Her waiting fingers drummed.

  "Mr. Sabanne, please."

  * * *

  Tiny silver bells jingled when Jace pushed open the door to Hearts Speak True. "Myra?"

  A muffled voice emerged from behind a tall display rack listing dangerously to one side. "Back here."

  Rushing over, Jace caught the rack just before it hit the critical angle and overturned. "Need some help?"

  Blond curls bobbed into sight, followed by a reddened face. "Thanks. I was trying to level this leg, and it got away from me."

  Jace knelt and spotted the folded-up piece of paper Myra was using as a shim. The lower portion of each display rack leg had a screw for adjusting the length. She stifled a grin. "Do you have a flathead screwdriver handy, Myra?"

  The older woman brushed back dangling curls and tucked some of them inside her fuchsia-and-lime green scarf, setting her long beaded earrings swinging. "I think so. That's the one without the star, right?"

  "Star?"

  "That's your problem, Jace." Myra's voice was soft with dismay. "You don't take time to look at the beauty around you. One kind of screwdriver has a pretty star on the end."

  Jace bit her lip. "It's called a Phillips-head, Myra."

  Myra sniffed as she headed toward the back room. "Star-tipped is much more descriptive."

  Squatting on the floor, holding up the display with one hand, Jace dropped her head and gave in to the urge to laugh.

  Myra's Siamese cat, Goddess, brushed up against Jace's leg, purring loudly, pawing at Jace's hair. Jace smiled at the blinking blue eyes of a feline whose name denoted her position in Myra's universe. Wildly spoiled, Goddess was allowed virtually any liberty. Visitors to the shop who complained were invited to leave, but most were so charmed by Myra that they put up with the cat's monstrous ego.

  "Yes, your majesty," Jace murmured, scratching her behind one ear. "At your service, as always."

  Finally, Jace's knees gave out. She settled into a cross-legged position on the floor, one hand still bracing the rack. Goddess took her posture as an invitation and climbed right into the center of the nest Jace's legs provided, purring as she settled.

  Jace sighed and relaxed in the soothing atmosphere of Myra's shop. Turning slightly, she used her back to prop up the display. Goddess yowled her displeasure, then settled again, her footpads kneading at Jace's left leg.

  For the first time in days, peace descended upon her. She closed her eyes, lulled by the cat's warmth and the low hum of her purring.

  A few minutes later, she stirred and saw Myra watching her with tenderness. "Sorry." She straightened, and the rack leaned precariously. Jace rushed to catch it before it toppled.

  Myra handed her the screwdriver, then put her hands out to support the frame. "No need to apologize. You look tired. What's wrong?"

  Lying flat on the floor, head under the rack, Jace was thankful for the cover. "Nothing I can't handle."

  "I'm worried about you."

  "No need."

  "That's not what the cards tell me, my friend. You're surrounded by darkness, Jace. If you hadn't come in today, I was going to call you. I don't like what I'm seeing."

  Have you ever touched someone and fallen through stars? For a moment, Jace was tempted to ask.

  But she didn't want to get Myra revved up. She'd had too much to drink or eaten something weird or gotten too little sleep...there was a logical explanation. If she asked Myra, her landlady would never give the subject a rest afterward. Bad enough she was divining Jace's future again. She let it pass and concentrated on the rack. Finally, she managed to loosen the screw on the last leg. "Okay, now tell me when you've got it straight."

  For a few minutes, they worked together performing adjustments. Myra was ready to quit long before she was, but Jace believed in doing a task right the first time. Finally, the rack was level. Jace crawled out from under it and rose, handing the screwdriver to Myra, then brushing off her jeans.

  "Myra, do you know where Sam got his drugs?"

  Myra recoiled. "Sam didn't do hard drugs, at least not in years."

  "But who did he buy his pot from? Or did he grow his own?"

  "Are you sure he still used it? I thought he'd turned over a new leaf."

  "How do you mean that?"

  "Nothing, really. It's just that he seemed, well, more hopeful lately. As if he'd found something to believe in, at last."

  "Like a cult?"

  Myra frowned. "Are you talking about the same one Jimmy mentioned?"

  "I don't know. Have you heard anything?"

  "One of my customers said something..." Her forehead wrinkled in concentration. "Let me think. Something about reclaiming ancient powers, I think. I'm not sure."

  Jace tensed. "Who was it?"

  "Jace, people come to me as they would a doctor or counselor. I can't be telling their secrets to outsiders."

  Outsiders. Myra was right, of course. None of this metaphysical business made sense to Jace. Still, what Myra heard could play a part in finding a murderer, and it was too soon to tell where the links might be.

  "I'm trying to solve two murders. We might have someone twisted on our hands."

  Calm eyes studied her at length. "I can't betray a trust."

  Reluctantly, she used her job as a weapon. "I can force you to tell me. I don't want to, but your conversations aren'
t protected by law. Given the context, I can't believe you'd hold out on me."

  "I'd like to help, but you have to understand how much people bare their souls to me. I tell you what—how about if I ask a few more questions to see if I can obtain the information you need?"

  In truth, Jace didn't have enough evidence to justify forcing Myra to cooperate, not yet. Jimmy's cult might or might not have any connection to Sam's death. Right now it was just a hunch.

  "I'd rather be the one asking. I don't want you involved if there's some wacko on the loose."

  "Do you have any reason to believe that there's a connection to Jimmy's cult?" Myra might be ditzy on some levels, but she was an intelligent woman.

  "Only a feeling. But I don't want you involved."

  "See? Intuition is just another side of the force directing what the cards tell me. We're more alike than you think." She beamed, as if speaking to a bright pupil. "I'll win you over yet." Then her expression shifted. "Listen to me, Jace. Malevolent energies are swirling around you. There is more to you than you want to acknowledge, and if you keep ignoring it... You've got to be careful. There's a dark figure looming over you every time I do a reading. I can show you."

  "I'll take your word for it," she said hastily. "But please promise you'll be very careful what kind of questions you pose to your customers."

  "You don't need to worry about me." She gestured all around her. "This is a place of positive energies. You felt it yourself." She glanced toward the rack where Jace had napped.

  "All right, I'm outta here. That's all the woo-woo stuff I can take for one day." At the door she stopped and glanced back. "Did Sam ever go to The Club, do you know?"

  Myra looked blank. "What club?" Suddenly, her gaze cleared. "Oh—that club. The one the papers mentioned." She seemed startled. "Isn't that where the girl died? Do you think their deaths are connected?"

  "I don't know yet. Not enough information, so I'm checking all bases. The two deaths might not be linked at all." But I don't think that's the case. Pasting on a smile, she wiggled her fingers at Myra. "Take care, kiddo."

  "Be well, Jace—and be careful."

  "My middle name. Later." Tiny bells jingled her departure.

  Walking back down the street toward her car, Jace couldn't help a shiver, thinking back over Myra's words. A dark figure looming over you.

  Dante Sabanne was out of town, according to his housekeeper, though she wouldn't say how long he'd be gone. Jace couldn't confront him, even if she were mentally ready to do that. Maybe it was just as well. She would have time to check into his background further, see if Prince Laboratories might fit into the picture.

  She would also return to The Club's next date, that very night. Look for her brother.

  Look for him. Sort this all out.

  She still wondered what she'd really seen. She would go back, but not on official business. Captain Gonzales hadn't decided yet. She would be skirting a fine line, but if it truly was Jimmy she'd seen there, she had to warn him away from that place. Even if no one was sure exactly what was going on there, her gut told her it was something bad.

  He wouldn't welcome her interference, but then he never had. Still, no matter how much she wanted to be free of the once-crushing responsibilities she'd had for her family's survival, some things never changed. Jimmy was her younger brother, and he didn't have enough sense to stay out of danger.

  She didn't want him winding up in the middle of whatever lay in the diseased heart of that place. The Club was bad news. Proof or no, she was sure of that.

  Myra had been right about one thing. Jace believed in her hunches.

  And that meant another trip to The Club.

  * * *

  Whoever was responsible for running The Club had a sense of humor: tonight's signal was an onion. Jace had cradled hers gingerly, hoping to prevent any trace of the scent from rubbing off on her skin.

  Glad to be rid of it now, she walked through the shadowed alley, looking for the door with the star visible only in the black light bulb overhead. When she spotted it, she swept past the guard in the company of a cluster of people to avoid attracting undue attention.

  She fastened her mask while perusing the crowd. How she wished she could simply call Gonzales and arrange to bust the place, but even as the instinct scraped over raw nerves, she knew a raid would be both premature and stupid.

  And she might never find out what had happened to her last time.

  No, she'd maintain a low profile and stay out of smoky corners. Keep her eyes peeled for her brother and meanwhile make up for losing her nerve last time, beginning with clear observation to determine what was really going on here.

  Tonight The Club was being held in an abandoned furniture store, its large front windows blocked out so well that inside seemed another universe. Lasers sliced arcs of red and green and yellow. The eerie glow of black light transformed everything white into a phosphorescent blue. Bubbles drifted in the dizzying strobes strafing her vision. Smoke twined through laser-crisp circles and triangles, the smell of incense and pot filling the air.

  And the music...always the music, spiraling then plummeting, stringing out nerves, teasing desire while beneath the soaring melody, her very bones vibrated with the dark bass rhythms.

  Jace could barely recognize her own form in the visual chaos, much less look for her brother. Nonetheless, she searched until her eyes hurt, still hovering at the edges of the dense crowd.

  Then, just for an instant, she spotted...him.

  Before she could reach him, he vanished into the writhing mass of bodies. She plunged in after him. She searched for the dark hair falling to his shoulders, the lean, powerful frame. She sipped shallow breaths as she looked all around her, but her head was already growing light. She swam through the sea of people, wilting from the heat, and shook her head repeatedly to clear it.

  She even peered into draped corners, some empty, some occupied.

  But none of them were the man she'd seen that first night.

  As she roamed restlessly, hands reached for her, stroked her body. A husky man near her own height traced his forefinger down the oversized zipper on the front of her black spandex dress, then latched on the ring to pull it.

  Jace slapped his hand away and whirled toward the opposite quarter of the pulsating mass of bodies grinding together, faces avid with lust, palms greedy and groping. Couples intertwined—same sex, opposite sex, all tangled together—a feast of flesh exposed, inhibitions scattered. Orgy in Santa Fe.

  It was all too much. What had been titillating the first time now only frightened her. She lunged for an exit, but her head spun, her balance faltered.

  Strong arms snagged her, slid around her waist, drawing her back against a solid wall of muscle.

  Instantly she careened into the black. Stars burst behind her eyes.

  Oh, God, not him. "No—" She began to struggle.

  "Hold on." A deep voice next to her ear. "You are safe. I have you."

  That voice. She attempted to turn, to draw away.

  Steely strength restrained her. "Sh-h...easy." Odd words spoken in a calm tone...warm palms soothed down her arms. The spinning slowed, the darkness, the carpet of stars, receded enough for her breathe again. She began to relax. "What is that? What's happening?"

  He gave no evidence of hearing, and the music was so loud. One hand splayed across her belly, drifted lower. The other cupped one breast. Every nerve in her body fluttered to life. Through her skin, she sensed him—lean and hard, heat rolling off him in waves. Power she could literally feel enfolding her, like a dark angel spreading his wings.

  Warm breath on the sensitive flesh joining neck and shoulder, sifting over her collarbone, twining beneath her neckline and between the swells.

  Lips parting, tongue caressing. A graze of teeth.

  Her gasp.

  His thighs pressed to her buttocks...his body's leap.

  "Trust yourself... Let go..." His low murmur raced tingles over her skin, a promise
of fire. A vision of bliss, hers for the taking.

  "Open yourself to me..."

  Suddenly, she was falling again, slipping away, being swallowed up, taken over...she couldn't hear anything for the sound of singing...

  No. "I—I can't." She fought against it all, the sudden plunges, the drugging languor. "No. Let me go!"

  Shocking and sudden, his support vanished.

  She wheeled to face him. Grappled for balance.

  No one. Gone, like mist in sun. She was back in the moment, but it was all noise now, all confusion, the press of flesh, the dizzying kaleidoscope of lights, the heat and haze, the music so foreign.

  Fear clogged her lungs, jammed her heart.

  Jace blinked, again and again. Stumbled, the noise too loud, the air too thick—

  "Sh-h." Again, his voice at her ear. Hands reeling her into the shelter of his arms. "You're all right...let go...let yourself feel."

  She didn't want to, but there seemed to be no choice. The airless black, the trail of stars...the colors resolved into ribbons of light spooling out into the distance.

  "Easy," he said. "Just breathe..." He spoke more words she couldn't make out.

  She struggled at first, one breath, then another until at last all of it vanished, and she began to settle...to come back to herself, to feel the draw of him as a male, primal and powerful. He wrapped her in a cloak of protection, and somehow she felt both safe and aroused.

  Jace sank against him, drawn through an enchanted mirror into another existence, lost to her own. The only reality was his touch, his presence...the silken knot of desire with which he bound her.

  "I don't understand."

  "There is no need. Only relax..." As his voice soothed her, long fingers skimmed over the tight black fabric, circled her nipples. At the ring of her zipper, one finger speared through...drew it slowly, slowly down.

  "But—" Against her will, Jace watched the zipper descend, mesmerized by the sight of her own flesh revealed, inch by painstaking inch. They were cloaked in shadows but not invisible. Anyone interested could watch them. The awareness should have made her recoil.

  Instead, her blood bubbled, her heart raced. Like a night-blooming flower, she unfurled. Reveled. Nothing mattered but the sensation of his magical hands, anywhere...everywhere. At the whisper of soft breath over the tops of her breasts, her back arched to bring them higher, nearer...a silent plea.