The Undead Next Door las-4

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  Phil and Pierre would be in the cellar now, sleeping in the dormitory-style bedroom for the guards. As mortals, they were expected to sleep at night, so they could guard during the day. Vamps were totally vulnerable during their death-sleep, so the responsibility of guarding them was huge. Even so, the daytime guards rarely ran into danger. Vampire enemies were also dead during the day, and most of the mortal world was ignorant of their existence.

  Alberto was a mortal who knew about vampires. Jean-Luc had confided in his young protege after Alberto had served faithfully for five years. It was a good arrangement.

  Alberto kept their secrets, and in return, he was given opportunities that were rare in the fashion industry. He arranged shows and hobnobbed with powerful, influential people. He was allowed to present his own designs with the advantage of Echarpe distribution and marketing. He'd become Jean-Luc's representative during the day. He was a hardworking perfectionist with only one flaw.

  He was obsessed with Simone and Inga. Learning that they were lady Vamps had only increased his desire.

  They enjoyed toying with him, but tonight they'd gone too far. Jean-Luc wasn't concerned about Alberto spilling vampire secrets to the media. He and Robby could use mind control to wipe out Alberto's memory if they needed to. But it would be hard to replace Alberto. Simone and Inga didn't realize it, as vain as they were, but they would be easy to replace.

  The memory of Alberto's bloody fingers shot a surge of anger through Jean-Luc. He'd warned Alberto to stay away from Simone and Inga, but obviously the man could not resist the lure of the forbidden. The irony of the situation hit home. Jean-Luc couldn't resist the forbidden, either. It would be so much more convenient if he could fall for a Vamp woman, but no, he wanted Heather.

  He teleported back to his office and tried to do some work. Pierre had left an invoice on his desk. The harpsichord he'd ordered had arrived during the day. Good. Jean-Luc didn't consider himself a great musician, but after four hundred years of practice, he was certainly adequate.

  Pierre had left a note that he'd instructed the workmen to set up the harpsichord next to the baby grand piano in the music room. Jean-Luc winced at the thought of mortals down in the cellar during the day, but Pierre would have made sure they saw only the main corridor and music room.

  No mortal would suspect some of the rooms hid vampires in their death-sleep. Still, Jean-Luc was uncomfortable with any mortals knowing about the cellar. He'd have Robby visit these workmen and erase their memories.

  And what about Heather? She knew there was a cellar now. How long could he hide his secrets from her? How could he court an honest woman with lies? He'd refused to let her go hunting with Robby and him because he figured the boarded-up buildings were locked. Robby and he could easily teleport inside, but not if Heather was with them.

  When they found Lui and killed him, Heather would be free to go on with her life. Would he have to let her go and erase her memory, too?

  The thought of spending eternity without her was difficult to bear. Merde, the thought of spending a week without her was painful.

  Jean-Luc paced to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of Blissky. The mixture of whisky and synthetic blood burned his throat, but it didn't dull the pain.

  He was losing his heart to Heather, and he didn't know how to stop it.

  Heather winced as Bethany kicked her again. Between sleeping with a live tornado and her worries about the house and Jean-Luc, Heather had hardly slept a wink.

  Fidelia moaned suddenly, jerking Heather more fully awake. She glanced at the bedside table where the clock numbers glowed red in the dark. Five-thirty A.M. The sun would be up soon.

  Fidelia moaned again, thrashing her arms and legs. Heather considered waking her, but she really wanted whatever information Fidelia's dream had to offer.

  The older woman sat up so suddenly, Heather gasped.

  "Fidelia," she whispered. "Are you all right?"

  "Eyes, red glowing eyes in the dark. Danger."

  That was creepy, but it didn't tell them very much. "Anything else?"

  With a sigh, Fidelia rested against the headboard. "I couldn't see much. It was dark. Nighttime. I heard growling. A white flash of long gnashing teeth."

  Heather shuddered. The room grew silent except for Bethany's slow and even breathing.

  Finally she stood and stretched. She couldn't let a bad dream stop her from living. And since she couldn't sleep, she might as well get to work. The first thing she needed to do was buy some groceries. "Do you want anything from the kitchen?" She snorted. "Some champagne?" Fidelia chuckled. "I'm fine. I'm going back to sleep. I'll get up when the little one wakes up."

  "Okay. Sleep well." Heather stumbled into the bathroom. After a quick shower, she dressed in the new underwear, jeans, and green T-shirt they'd bought the night before. She slipped on her old athletic shoes and exited quietly into the hallway. A window at the end of the hall provided some dim light. The moon was half full, and stars sparkled in a clear sky.

  She paused outside Jean-Luc's office. Would he be inside? They'd never discussed the specifics of her job. A red blinking light overhead drew her attention. The surveillance camera was on. Was someone watching her?

  She slipped down the backstairs and peeked into the main corridor. Empty. There was a faint sound. Music.

  She glanced at the cellar door. After a quick look around, she tiptoed to the door. The sound of music grew louder.

  She pressed an ear against the door. Classical music. A piano and something with a tinkling sound. A harpsichord? She curled her fingers around the doorknob and gave it a twist. It turned slightly, then stuck fast. Locked.

  "May I help you?" a deep voice spoke behind her.

  She whirled to find Robby MacKay standing in the hall. "I…good morning. I was looking for the kitchen."

  "Over here." He turned to indicate the door on the other side of the staircase.

  "Oh, that's right. I'm still learning my way around." She strode toward the kitchen. "I thought I'd make a list of things we need from the grocery store. The pantry's bare, you know."

  "'Tis full now. We bought ye some food."

  "Oh." She paused outside the kitchen door. "Well, thank you. That was very efficient of you."

  He crossed his arms, giving her a thoughtful look. "I found yer handbag in yer truck last night.

  'Tis in the security office. I'll bring it to you."

  "Great. I might need to run some errands."

  He frowned. "If there's anything ye need, tell one of the guards. For yer own safety, ye must stay here."

  "Oh." Was she a prisoner? "I see." She let herself into the kitchen, then leaned against the door, taking deep breaths. She wasn't a prisoner, she reminded herself. They were just trying to keep her, Fidelia, and Bethany safe.

  And they were keeping their secrets safe, too. Curiosity killed the cat, the old saying warned her. But she was no cat. She was woman, hear her roar.

  She would uncover all their secrets, one by one.

  CHAPTER 15

  Jean-Luc had always loved playing duets. The music swelled back and forth from the piano to the harpsichord. At times he took the lead, and the melody flowed beneath his fingertips. Other times he retreated to the background, pounding the keys to set the rhythm for the other player.

  It was a bit like swordplay, he mused. With a good partner, the action swept back and forth—lunge, retreat, thrust, parry. Or like a good night of sex. Taking the lead, then easing back. Setting the rhythm, pounding over and over, sometimes gently, sometimes hard. Using his fingers to make Heather sing.

  He smiled to himself. He'd win her over somehow, and it would be glorious. As the closing strain faded away, he kept his fingers on the keys to enjoy the last hint of vibration. Mon Dieu, how he wanted her. He'd thought music would help take his mind off her, but it had only made him ache for her.

  "Shall we play another, Jean-Luc?" Inga asked from her seat behind the piano.

  "Oh yes, plea
se do." Simone had amused herself by dancing a minuet. "Let's call Robby to come dance with me. It'll be a party, just like old times."

  Jean-Luc folded his sheet music. "Actually I have something serious to discuss."

  Inga slumped on the piano bench. "You're always serious these days."

  "With good reason," Jean-Luc countered. "Lui is back, and he's threatening to kill anyone I care about."

  Simone gasped. "That would be us."

  Jean-Luc refrained from pointing out that in the two hundred years he'd known Simone and Inga, Lui had never threatened them. He only seemed interested in killing mortals. "You both talked to him Friday night. He was disguised as an old man with white hair and a cane."

  "That was Lui?" Inga looked aghast as she pressed a hand to her chest. "He seemed so charming and harmless."

  "And rich." Simone flipped her long black hair behind her shoulders. "He offered me twenty thousand dollars for my company."

  Inga snorted. "Does he think you're a whore?"

  "Actually, I've been considering it." Simone assumed an injured look. "Jean-Luc ignores us terribly."

  He'd been hearing that complaint for more than fifty years. "Didn't either of you notice that he wasn't mortal?"

  Inga shrugged. "The room was full of smelly mortals."

  "And now you've invited some to live under our roof." Simone shuddered. "Quelle horreur."

  Jean-Luc pushed back his bench and stood. "They're under my protection. You will treat them with respect. And I have another request. Leave Alberto alone."

  Simone waved a hand in dismissal. "He is nothing."

  "He's an important employee. You went too far tonight."

  Simone scoffed. "It was just a little scratch."

  "And I have rules in my household. No biting. If you cannot abide by my rules, you will have to leave."

  Simone's eyes flashed. "You would throw us out?"

  Inga jumped up from the piano bench. "Come now. We've been friends too long for this silly bickering."

  "Indeed." Simone glared at Jean-Luc. "You would not want me for an enemy."

  Jean-Luc studied her quietly. "You may leave whenever you wish, Simone."

  "Sorry to interrupt," Robby spoke from the open door.

  "Robby, you must dance with me," Simone demanded.

  "Another time, lass. I need a word with Jean-Luc."

  Jean-Luc bowed slightly. "Good night, ladies."

  They trudged out the door, pouting.

  "Off to bed for yer beauty sleep." Robby stepped aside to let them pass. "Ye're no' getting any younger, ye ken."

  Simone gave him a dirty look, but he only chuckled.

  Jean-Luc joined him at the door. "You're such a charmer."

  "Aye." Robby nodded. "I take pride in it." His smile faded, and his voice lowered. "I found Mrs. Westfield listening to the music at the cellar door."

  "Oh." Jean-Luc's heartbeat quickened, just thinking about her. He strode down the hall. "She's up early."

  "Aye. And suspicious like we feared. She's in the kitchen now. I returned her handbag to her."

  "I see." They had a little time left before sunrise forced them into their daily death-sleep. "I'll try to allay some of her suspicions."

  "Good." Robby accompanied him up the stairs. "We made some progress tonight. Six cameras are set up outside."

  "Good." But there'd been no progress on finding Lui. Their search of abandoned buildings had yielded nothing. Jean-Luc opened the door to the ground-floor hallway.

  "We'll do another check before the changing of the guard." Robby headed to the security office.

  "See ye tomorrow."

  "Good night." Jean-Luc entered the kitchen and stopped in the sitting area. "Heather?"

  She peeked out of the utility room. "Jean-Luc! I–I didn't expect to see you." She hurried into the kitchen. "I was just doing some laundry."

  She avoided looking at him and shoved her damp, curly hair behind her ears. She fumbled with a pencil and notepad next to her purse on the counter. She seemed nervous, and it irked him that she was no longer comfortable in his presence. "Making a list?" he asked.

  "Yes." She waved a hand toward the pantry. "I found it stocked with all sorts of stuff this morning. I really appreciate it, but there are a few things missing. For instance, we have spaghetti, but no tomato sauce."

  He had no idea what a spaghetti was, but he'd take her word for it. "Pierre or Phil can get whatever you need."

  "I suppose." She tapped the pencil against the countertop. "I guess I'm trapped here until the problem with Louie is resolved."

  "It's for the best. I don't want to take any chances with your safety."

  She frowned. "I'll need some fat-free milk." She added it to the list. "I have to watch every calorie."

  "Heather." He rested his hand on top of hers to stop her fidgeting. "I think you're beautiful the way you are."

  She closed her eyes briefly with a pained look. "I have to know." She gave him a beseeching look.

  "How did you get Bethany's toys here?"

  It was more than a request for information, he realized. She was asking for honesty. She wanted to regain her trust in him. And dammit all, he couldn't tell her the complete truth. That would scare her away faster than anything.

  "Robby, Ian, and Phineas worked together," he began. "There was only one deputy, so it wasn't that hard for Phineas to distract him to the back of the house while the others snuck into the front."

  He didn't mention that part of the sneaking involved teleportation.

  She bit her bottom lip. "I suppose that makes sense. How did they bring the stuff here?"

  "They had plenty of time to transport it here while we were at the store shopping."

  She nodded slowly. "They probably used my truck."

  They hadn't, but he didn't disagree. His hand was still covering hers, and she hadn't pulled away.

  He removed the pencil from her grip. "You're tense. I can tell. It makes your shoulders hunch."

  "Of course I'm tense. A homicidal maniac set my house on fire, and he wants to kill me."

  "Relax." He circled behind her.

  "What are you doing?" She glanced back.

  "Trying to ease your tension." He rested his hands on her shoulders, then gently kneaded his fingers into the muscles around her neck. "I want you to know that you and your daughter's safety are more important than anything to me."

  "Thank you." With a sigh, she tilted her head forward. "I guess you and Robby didn't find Louie tonight."

  "No." He massaged her shoulders. "I would have told you, but I thought you were asleep."

  "I couldn't sleep. Poor Bethany. I'm afraid this is taking a toll on her. She was thrashing about in bed."

  "I'm so sorry." He led Heather toward the couch. "Come. You look tired."

  "I'm exhausted, but I have so much to do. The insurance company to call, and Heather's preschool—"

  "They won't be open yet." He shoved a big footstool up to the couch and sat her on it. Then he settled onto the couch behind her, straddling the footstool.

  "You must be tired, too." She glanced back at him. "You're still in the same clothes."

  "I'll get some rest in a little while." The sun was nearing the horizon. Soon he would feel the pull of death-sleep. But for now, he could enjoy being with Heather. He dug his fingers into her shoulders.

  She let out a long moan, then cut it off abruptly. "Sorry, didn't mean to do that out loud."

  He smiled. "I like hearing you moan." He massaged circles down her back. "Even more, I like being the cause."

  "This feels so good." She sighed. "I don't know what to think of you."

  He rubbed the small of her back. "Do you have to think at all?"

  "Yes. I've made some bad mistakes in the past. I have to be very careful now, 'cause it's not just my life I could screw up, but Bethany's, too."

  He touched her hair, enjoying the feel of the silken strands. "You are my ideal of a good mother."

 
; She twisted to look at him. "That's about the kindest thing I've ever heard."

  "Heather." He scooped an arm under her legs to pull her into his lap. "You bring kindness out of me. You make me want to be deserving of you."

  She touched his face. "Why wouldn't you be?"

  "I'm not perfect."

  "No one is." She traced his jaw with her fingers. "You have secrets. About yourself and Louie."

  She wanted to know more. He chose his words carefully. "Lui assassinated some important political figures in France. I stopped one of his attempts, and he has plagued me ever since."

  "How does a fashion designer stop an assassin?"

  "I…wasn't a designer then. I worked for the government."

  Her eyes lit up. "Like James Bond?"

  "Something like that."

  "I knew it!" She grinned. "You're just as sexy as James Bond, and you have that aura of danger about you."

  He lifted his eyebrows. "You think I'm sexy?"

  Her cheeks flushed. "Did I say that?"

  "Yes." He brushed her hair back from her brow. "I suppose I shall have to live up to my reputation."

  "I suppose." Her gaze lowered to his mouth.

  That was an invitation. He brushed his lips against hers. Her arms encircled his neck, pulling him closer. A thrill shot through him. She wanted him. He deepened the kiss, pouring all his desire into the movement of his lips and the swirl of his tongue.

  She stroked his tongue with her own and moaned. He slid his hand past her ribs to cup her breast.

  "Yes," she breathed against his cheek.

  He spread his fingers to cover her breast, then lightly squeezed. "You're so lovely." He nuzzled her ear. Her carotid artery throbbed nearby, sending out pulses of the scent of Type AB blood. She tilted her head to make it easier for him to kiss her neck, not realizing how intensely erotic that move was to a vampire. His groin began to throb in sync with the coursing of her blood.

  "Heather." He feathered kisses along her cheek. Zut, what terrible timing. She needed to be loved properly, and he'd literally be dead in ten minutes.