Wicked Fantasy

by Nina Bangs

  He shrugged. “They’re pooling around your ankles. Of course, that might be perceived as a good thing, because your shoes are . . . Well, let’s just say that Sparkle would be appalled.”

  She clamped her lips shut before something really ugly slipped out. Cute, strappy sandals were a no-no when she was hunting. She couldn’t chase bad guys in cute, strappy sandals, and they sure wouldn’t do much to hide her ankle knife.

  “I know about your weapons because I’m a wizard. Knowing the unknown is a wizardy skill.” He paused to turn his “wizardy” tongue on a customer. “A hundred-dollar bill? I haven’t looked lately, but perhaps I have BANK tattooed across my forehead? Madam, please tell me you have something smaller. If not, I’ll have to take your husband as security until you break this ridiculous bill.”

  He waited while the woman huffed and puffed, rooted through her purse, and came up with a twenty.

  Holgarth smiled coldly. “That was rather painless, wasn’t it?”

  “I don’t know why this place hasn’t gone bankrupt with you manning the entrance.” Okay, Gerry had to lose the insults and say what she had to say. “Conall is asleep. Someone will probably have to wake him when it’s time for the fantasies. And have you seen Edge around anywhere?”

  Holgarth touched his chin with one finger and rolled his eyes in mock thought. “Hmm, I wonder where I might find Conall to wake him? In his room? In your room? So many places to look.”

  “Give me a break. You know damn well where he is. You know everything, right?” The sweet taste of violence tempted her. Gerry wondered if Holgarth did this to everyone.

  “Of course I do this to everyone. Sarcasm is my talent, my calling, my destiny if you will.” He offered her a huge dramatic sigh. “Never mind. I know where Conall is. And I believe you’ll find Edge in Wicked Fantasy.” Holgarth turned to offend another customer.

  Gerry hurried away just in case he wasn’t finished insulting her.

  When she entered Wicked Fantasy, she paused to let her eyes adjust to the dimness. It didn’t take long to spot Edge. He was sitting at a table with the three sisters Gerry had met in the Sultan’s Palace. As she watched, the women got up and left. He was probably interviewing for his next too-rich-to-live wife.

  Gerry wound her way across the room and around the small dance floor to his table. Perfect. He was alone and vulnerable. Or as vulnerable as a possible serial killer could be.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” Gerry sat in the chair to his right before he could say no. She had to get a look at his arm. Drat, he was wearing a sexy white poet’s shirt, open at the neck to expose a great chest. The drat was for the long sleeves.

  Edge gazed at her from those spectacular amber eyes and smiled his incredibly sexy smile. Jeez, women would marry him even if he met them at the altar with an ax in one hand and a shotgun in the other. He was that kind of guy.

  “Funny, but I was thinking about you, Gerry.”

  Was he measuring her for wife number 501? This could work for her. “How wonderful.” She tried to stare deeply into his eyes, but a pair of angry gray eyes kept getting in the way.

  Conall would be totally ticked if he knew what she was doing. Too bad. This was her job. “I would’ve stopped by sooner, but I had sooo many things to take care of. I had to speak with my family’s attorney about my trust fund. I don’t understand all that legal junk, so I just sign whatever he shoves in front of me.” Did she sound like a bored rich bitch? More to the point, did she sound like a stupid one?

  “Trust fund?”

  “Uh-huh. Of course, I have all the money I need without it, so I don’t think about it much. It’s tied up until I marry. Isn’t that absolutely prehistoric?” She shrugged. “Anyway, if I ever find Mr. Right, we’ll share all those cool millions. And if we don’t have any kids, he’ll inherit what’s left if I die.” Could she get any more obvious? She giggled. Did her giggle sound suitably dumb?

  “Die?”

  Was there a flare of interest in his eyes? “Yeah, if I die, he gets it all. But I’ll be living and shopping for a long time, so there won’t be much left for him to spend.” She tried for a flirty laugh.

  Was she good at shoveling crap or what?

  Edge definitely was into the conversation. “You’ll probably need a prenup to protect your fortune in case you guys split.”

  She widened her eyes to simulate stupid naiveté. “Oh, I’d only marry for love. I mean, if I ask the man I love to sign a prenup, it’ll look like I don’t believe in his long-term commitment to me.” Gag.

  “Yeah, I can see your point.” He upped the wattage in his smile. “You came in with Conall last time. Be careful. I hear he’s a violent man when he doesn’t get what he wants. I hope you didn’t tell him about your trust.”

  For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder about Conall’s violent past. She also gave herself permission to be amazed at how much she wanted to know about that past.

  “Oh, no. You’re the first one I’ve told.” If Edge was as powerful as Payton said, then he’d know she was vampire. “And I think I can take care of Conall if he tries anything.” She leaned toward him and smiled, letting him see a little fang. “But sometimes it’s tough for a woman who has a hunger for more than . . . the usual.”

  His expression gave nothing away. “Spell out ‘hunger.’ ”

  Gerry didn’t want to drag this on any longer than she had to. Besides, she could only spout so much idiocy before it became redundant. Better to make it short and to the point. “Blood and tattoos. I love a man with tattoos. Do you have any?” She hoped he didn’t pick up on her eagerness. And if he could read her mind, she hoped he wasn’t doing it now.

  Edge rolled up his right sleeve. “One.”

  She gulped. “The grim reaper. Pretty dark symbolism.”

  “I’m a pretty dark kind of guy.”

  Hmm. Powerful being, amber eyes, and grim reaper tattoo. Everything fit. She glanced around. It’d be tough taking him down here. Violent guy plus lots of innocent people made for a bad mixture. “Gee, it’s crowded in here. Want to go outside and get some fresh air?”

  “No.” Something that might’ve been amusement flickered in his eyes.

  Okay, on to plan B. Maybe she should’ve thought of a plan B ahead of time. She’d slap the Securer on him while she came up with one. “No fresh air. Right.” She eased her hand into her pants pocket and palmed her tiny electronic leash.

  With the Securer in her hand, she reached toward him as if to touch his tattoo. Almost there, almost there. She had that promotion locked up.

  Her hand hit what felt like a brick wall about two inches from his arm. Well, maybe not exactly locked up.

  Edge put back his head and laughed, really laughed. And if she didn’t know what a dirtbag he was, she’d say it was a sexy laugh.

  “Good try. You had me going for a while. I was into your lies and the whole I’m-incredibly-dumb act. Didn’t jump into your head until the end. Why do you want to ‘take me down’?” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

  “For the five hundred wives you’ve killed.” She pressed against the barrier, tried to go around it, and then gave up. “How’d you do that?”

  “Power. More power than you want to mess with. Five hundred wives?”

  A point for her side. He really looked shocked. “You won’t get away from me. You run, I’ll follow.” She studied his expression. He didn’t look guilty, but then serial killers rarely did.

  “You’ll have to show me something worth running from first. Who do you work for?”

  She hated this part. Payton had to change the organization’s name. “The Paranormal Undercover Field Force.” He could take out the word “undercover.” The paranormal underworld knew all about them. “We make sure nonhuman entities obey Texas laws.” She counted out the seconds until he got it.

  “You work for PUFF?” He shook his head. “Sweetheart, if you weren’t loaded down with enough weapons to wipe ou
t Galveston, I would not believe either that name or your game.”

  So much for her hidden weapons.

  “How’d your organization come up with this thing about five hundred wives?”

  She’d blown her cover, so no need to keep anything secret. She was pretty safe inside the club. He wouldn’t want to jeopardize his chances of finding a shiny new wife by killing her in front of all these witnesses, some of whom were also powerful entities. And he was evidently secure enough to think she wasn’t a danger to him. He’d find out, though, that what she lacked in experience she made up for in stubbornness.

  “My boss got an anonymous tip he felt was pretty credible. The person described your eye color and grim reaper tattoo. The tipster said you were a powerful being who’d murdered five hundred wives and that we’d find you at Live the Fantasy.”

  He looked like he was doing some deep thinking. While he was thinking, Gerry glanced around to see if any help was near enough to signal. Nope. Eric and Brynn had been at the bar a short time ago, but they must’ve left to do their fantasies. Damn.

  “Bitch.”

  “What?” Startled, Gerry looked back at Edge.

  “Not you.” He pushed away from the table. “Come outside with me.” He didn’t look back to see if she was following as he strode toward the door.

  You bet she was following. She did a mental inventory of her weapons. Most of them were for hand-to-hand combat. The kind of criminal she’d hunted in her short career with PUFF didn’t have her strength or speed. And her fangs were an added plus. If she could get close enough, she could do serious damage. Her chances of getting close to Edge? Not so good.

  Once outside the castle, Edge moved into the shadows. Gerry didn’t follow him there. That promotion wouldn’t do her any good if Payton awarded it posthumously.

  “Let’s get this trying-to-take-me-down thing out of your system.” The white flash of his smile wasn’t comforting. “How’d you like to use all of your weapons on me?”

  “Uh, is this a trick question?” Even as she asked, she was reaching back for her knife. She’d give it her best shot, but she already had a bad feeling about this.

  A few minutes later, her entire arsenal except for her gun, taser, and bottle of holy water lay on the ground in front of Edge. She had a silencer on the gun, so she’d taken a chance that no one would notice her shooting at him. The bullet simply bounced off his invisible shield and joined the knives and hatchet. The taser? Why bother? Nothing got past his damn shield.

  “Well, that was pretty futile.” Gerry dug in her pocket and pulled out her PDA. She scrolled through her list of entities. “Hmm. No info on how to bash, stab, or mutilate a cosmic troublemaker.”

  “You still have your holy water and taser.” He was openly laughing at her now.

  “What the hell.” Gerry moved up closer and pressed the taser against his invisible shield. Nothing. Then she used the edge of her T-shirt to unseal the bottle. Didn’t know what holy water would do to her and wasn’t about to find out. She heaved the liquid at him.

  Ever obliging, he lowered his shield so the water could splash over him, wetting his hair and shirt and then trickling down his face. “Oh, the pain, the agony.” He smiled as he swept the water from his eyes.

  She scowled at him. “Thanks for the bone. You’ve proven your point. I don’t have anything that can touch you.”

  But she would. She’d do some research on cosmic troublemakers and come back with a new and improved bunch of weapons. She started to walk away and then paused. She turned to look at him. “Did you really kill five hundred wives?”

  “I never had a wife.” For just a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of emotion. And then it was gone. “But if I did, why would I kill her when there’re so many more pleasant ways to get everything I want?”

  “Uh-huh. Makes sense.” Strangely enough, it did. Wow, major shock. Her intuition said he was telling the truth. Her intuition rarely lied. Besides, if he was the killer, he had enough power to get rid of her like he’d rid himself of all those pesky pool boys and pizza delivery guys. And he was right. She didn’t doubt for a minute that most women would hand over all their money and then smile as he drove away with it.

  Not me, though. No, she was into immortal warriors. Tall, powerful men with shaggy dark hair, smoky gray eyes, sensual lips, and overprotective tendencies.

  “As entertaining as this all has been, I’ve got to chase down Sparkle.”

  From Edge’s expression, Gerry figured there wouldn’t be lots of happy talk when he found her. Well, that wasn’t her business. She watched him walk away before focusing on her own worries.

  Okay, so now she had three problems. First, how to tell Payton that maybe his tip was wrong. Her proof? Not a damn thing except her intuition. Fat chance that would fly with Payton. So until the boss called her off, she had to keep trying to apprehend Edge.

  Second, find the pond scum who was trying to kill her. No clue yet how to do that.

  Last, deal with her growing attraction to Conall. Fine, not attraction. Lust. A big, fat honking case of I-want-your-body.

  She wasn’t sure which of the three was the most dangerous.

  Sighing, she headed back into the castle. She’d forgotten a problem. Jinx. She’d go down to the dungeon and nab him when he dragged his loot back to his room.

  Gerry had barely stepped into the castle when she saw Conall bearing down on her. He was a rolling thundercloud leaving dark skies in his wake. Whoa, would you look at that costume. He must be playing the Ghost of Christmas Future with that black robe and hood. Scary.

  “Where the hell did you go?” Don’t shout. He shouted. Conall knew his costume plus his fury was cutting a wide swath through the people cluttering the lobby. But he barely noticed them scuttling out of his way.

  He stopped in front of her and glared. Armies had fled from that glare.

  She sniffed. “Stop shouting. You’re frightening the guests.”

  “Holgarth woke me, and you’d gone.” Not unexpected. She wasn’t a stay-here kind of woman. He should’ve found a way to keep awake.

  “He said you asked about Edge.” That’s what pissed him off. Conall didn’t try to fool himself. He wasn’t angry because she’d put herself in danger. What he felt was raw, primitive jealousy. Over a damn Kavanagh. It was enough to scare the shit out of him.

  “I have a job, and Morrigan’s curse isn’t going to stop me from doing it.” She started to push past him.

  Damn it, this wasn’t about Morrigan. It was about . . . “Wait.” He put his hand on her shoulder, not grabbing, not holding. Conall didn’t think grabbing or holding would work with this woman. “I have a fantasy to do. Come with me. You can grab a costume, and we can talk while we’re waiting for the customer.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” But she followed him to the costume room.

  He wondered why.

  Once she was wearing a robe and hood like his, he led her up one of the winding stone steps to a dark landing.

  “So what’re we supposed to be?” She adjusted her robe and hood.

  Conall grinned. She was only about five-three, and the costume was made for a bigger person. The robe swallowed her up and pooled around her feet. Cute. Creepy? Not so much.

  “We’re evil, demonic entities who wait in darkness to pounce on unsuspecting medieval men and maidens who venture too close.”

  She nodded. “Cool. So what happens after we grab them?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. Before we can do any wicked stuff, the perfect Prince Brynn rescues them. Eric used to always play the bad guy, but marriage has mellowed him. Now he’s the brave warrior who fights the forces of evil with Prince Brynn.”

  “Playing an evil force is more fun.” Gerry tilted her head to gaze up at him. “You know, you look the part. You’d terrify me if I didn’t know you were a softy inside.”

  “Softy?” Not even his worst enemy would’ve dared throw that insult at him.

 
She grinned. “Yeah, a big, gooey melted marshmallow. Who else would’ve thought about saving Houston?”

  He ground his teeth. “I’ll pull the damned weed out by its skinny roots.”

  “Oooh, scary.” She moved closer while the darkness wrapped them in a false intimacy.

  “Woman, you’re driving me crazy.”

  “Mmm, tell me how so I can do it more.”

  “Mmmph.”

  “Gee, that was a bit garbled, but I think you slammed my snarky comments and independent attitude.”

  He could feel the explosion building, pushing up from his stomach, ready to blow away his control. “Wrong.”

  Only one way to defuse what was coming. “This is what drives me crazy.” He pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. Tracing her lips with his tongue, he allowed himself to sink into the joy of those sexy lips, their texture and taste—tempting with a hint of something wild and exotic.

  “You taste . . . sweet,” he murmured against her mouth. He hoped she didn’t expect anything more specific, because right now his brain cells were migrating south.

  Her chuckle was a soft puff of breath against his lips. “Sweet? I love sweet things”—she nibbled his bottom lip—“with a bit of bite”—she sucked on the fullest part of his lip—“and always creamy.”

  Godalmighty. Her words ripped him apart. So sensual, so filled with erotic images. He just had to explore the source of those sexy words. When he pressed, she opened her mouth to him.

  He met her tongue and tasted his own desire. Sliding into her wet heat he imagined another place—hotter, wetter. He groaned.

  She gasped. “I like how you go crazy, O’Rourke.”

  “Mmm.” Reluctantly, he abandoned her mouth. He pushed aside her hood to kiss the sensitive skin behind her ear. “The Castle of Dark Dreams is a place of fantasies. What’s your fantasy, lady with a bit of bite?”

  “A tree trunk.” Her breaths came in small gasps as he pushed her robe open and then lifted the red shirt.

  He paused. “A tree trunk? Do I want to hear this?” The sexual haze cleared enough for him to realize what he was looking at. “A shoulder holster?” He slid his hand around to her back. “A knife?”