Bad Boys of the Night: Eight Sizzling Paranormal Romances: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

by Jennifer Ashley

  When she still hesitated, he reached for her.

  “Okay, okay.” She recoiled and groped in her pocket. She threw it at him. “Just stay back.”

  He fumbled the catch, and she addressed the driver. “I’ll get out here.”

  The cab began to slow.

  Punching in a number, Custo said, “Not a good idea. The wolf is undoubtedly tracking your movements.”

  The wolf. The memory of its dark hulk, eyes glaring, had her heartbeat tripping. Tracking her?

  “Never mind,” Annabella said to the driver.

  Custo groaned frustration. Ha! He must have gotten voice mail.

  “Adam, surprise—it’s Custo. I’m back. Remember that time at the Shelby School when we cut the power to the compound long enough to stop the clocks? Don’t trust anyone at Segue until you speak with me.” Custo paused. “I’m headed now for our New York storage cache. You can reach me at this number, or there shortly.”

  His message made her head hurt. What kind of cryptic crapola was that? “Excuse me…? I’d like my phone back.”

  Custo handed it back to her, slightly smiling, as if her irritation amused him. “If it rings, answer immediately.”

  She wasn’t about to let him boss her. She let her finger linger on the power button. Off. No more calls for the crazy cab moocher.

  They turned off the main road and shot down a smaller side street lined with cars already parked for the night. Must be getting close.

  She had her own questions, and she only had a few more minutes to get the answers. “That wolf…it’s been stalking me for days. I haven’t slept. I’m so hopped up on caffeine I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again. And I have to be my best for tomorrow night. My best. Can you please tell me what is going on?”

  “I have to hear your end of it first to know for sure.” A tremor ran through him, and a muscle in his jaw twitched as he mastered himself.

  Maybe he was on drugs. “I just told you my end of it.”

  “When it began. How the wolf found you.”

  Annabella threw up her hands in frustration. “I don’t know when—” No, wait. She did. “Rehearsal. Night before last, when we put the second act together. We’d been rehearsing separately, working on one bit one night, another bit another. This was the first time that we had the full company there.”

  “How did it happen?” Passing headlights coasted over his features and accented the golden flecks in his amber-green irises. So pretty, too bad he was…unbalanced and rude.

  “I was dancing one of my solos—I thought I had it right. Felt good anyway. I looked up and saw the wolf. Heard him growling at me. I don’t know how he got there or why. I thought I was just super tired and stressed. Is he for real?”

  “Very much so,” Custo answered. “You see him only when you are dancing?”

  “No. He followed me last night to my bus stop.”

  He frowned. “You were alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you escape him?” His questions kept coming, rapid fire. When was he going to start answering some?

  “He’s afraid of light,” she explained, lifting her improvised weapon. “He stays in the shadow.”

  Custo frowned and cursed, “Damn it.”

  “Are you going to tell me what is going on or not?”

  He held his breath, then expelled all his indecision. “The wolf is a creature of Shadow, of that I am certain.”

  “A creature of wha—?”

  Custo looked down at his hands, fisting and flexing them strangely, as if he’d never seen them before. “He is a creature of Shadow, bound to Shadow, but he crossed into this world with me tonight, you understand?”

  Okay, the man was deranged, and she was going crazy right along with him. Crossed from where?

  The driver looked in the rearview mirror. “You got an address, mister?”

  Custo glanced out the window. “Here is fine.”

  The car pulled over to the curb, and Custo opened his door. Panic rolled over Annabella. What now? She couldn’t go off with a stranger. He could be psycho or a murderer, or, or…

  Custo climbed out, turned, and grabbed her bag. He dropped it on the sidewalk and reached in to her, his fingers sharply beckoning. “Come on.”

  This was so not what her mother intended when she offered to pay for the cab. Annabella shrank back, though her body perversely thrilled all over at the prospect. The man was certifiable, but damn hot anyway. “I don’t even know you.”

  He bent to make eye contact. “You know you’re safe with me.”

  From wolves, maybe.

  “Annabella?”

  Oh, this is stupid. But she slid across the seat dragging the heavy flashlight, took his hand—warm, strong—and climbed out of the cab. He reached into his pocket and produced a wad of bills, handing the driver a twenty.

  As the cab pulled away, Annabella had the strangest sensation that everything normal in her life was going with it. What the hell was she doing?

  “Let’s get off the street.” Custo put an arm around her waist and pulled her close to his body. Her heart thumped, but she didn’t fight him. She fit snugly, tucked alongside him, and his tight hold somehow made her both more and less nervous. He smelled dark and sharp. Sweaty, but still very good.

  His body against hers was rigid with tension. He hurried them down the block and across the street to a doorway tucked into an alcove. A keypad was affixed at eye level. He punched in a code, and the lock released on the door, almost inaudibly.

  She felt the tug on her waist as he tried to draw her inside.

  “Um…” she said, her stomach suddenly knotting with nerves, “I do have to get back to my apartment soon. The gala is tomorrow, and if I don’t get some sleep—”

  “You’ll be staying here now,” he said.

  She pulled back against his forward momentum. Staying here? Tonight?

  Custo took her shoulders, dipped his head to catch her gaze with his marshy eyes. The back light from the interior lit his dark blond hair into a soft gold halo. “Annabella, there is a Shadow wolf stalking you. It sounds absurd, I know, but the creatures of Faerie know no reason. You can rest here. Sleep. You’ll dance better for it tomorrow night. I’ll see that nothing touches you.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “I won’t touch you either.” He lifted a brow, making fun of the direction of her thoughts, but the deliberate guttural rumble of his assurance had her mentally pinning on the word yet after his statement.

  Her gaze drifted to his mouth. His lips curved up slightly in response. She lifted her gaze just in time to catch the wicked gleam, lit by humor, in his eyes. She tried to look away but couldn’t. The air around them hummed with energy generated by his intensity, her nerves, and the electricity of their closeness.

  What to do…What to do…Annabella’s body hummed with painful indecision. Go off with the psycho, hot man in the short pants or brave the wolfy night alone? Groaning, she gave a reluctant nod—last night’s vigil had been fueled by strong coffee. It might be early for anyone else to think of bed, but there was no way on earth she could keep her eyes open for long. This man seemed to know what he was talking about, in spite of his ridiculous clothes.

  Custo must have seen her acceptance, because he pulled her inside and led her down a long, low hallway. The white paint on the walls had crackled with age and time as the building settled. The place had a dusty smell, as if it hadn’t been aired in forever. The only window in the interior was narrow and high with a dirty view of concrete. The main room was filled with stacked army green plastic cartons, blocky lettering identifying them as the property of something called the Segue Institute. A storage room.

  Okay…so maybe she could be safe here, but she’d be excruciatingly uncomfortable. Her dance bag made for a rotten pillow—she’d tried that in rehearsal enough times. Maybe they should go back to her place. Or get a hotel room. Correction, adjoining hotel rooms.

  Custo hefted a carton out
of the way. Judging by the strain of his bunched muscle against the too-small fabric of his shirt, it must have been heavy. With his efforts, however, the top of a doorway was revealed, so there was a little hope.

  She watched as he moved the rest of the cartons out of the way. The man had a tight, sculpted ass under those ridiculous navy khakis. When he was done, his shirt was damp with sweat. Another numbered panel was attached to the wall. Custo punched in a code, and the lock on the door released. The successive containment of the place reminded her of a prison. She had to be out of her mind.

  Custo opened the door and used one of the cartons as a doorstop. A phone warbled within the room. Probably that Adam he’d called earlier.

  Oh, shit…her phone was still off.

  Custo darted inside and left her to follow. She fumbled to get out her mobile phone and hit the power button. As it turned on and searched for a signal, she peeked in the room. The air was similarly stale, but the space was open, meticulously clean, and—thank goodness—furnished. Every corner of the place was brightly lit. A wraparound desk edged one wall, topped with a computer, the monitor blank. Another door led to a tidy modern bathroom. And beyond a gray partition, she spotted the foot of a low queen-size bed. One bed, huh?

  He’d be on the floor.

  “I swear it’s me,” Custo was saying into the phone. “Who else would know about the Shelby clocks?”

  A pause.

  “But I didn’t turn wraith. You know I would never—”

  Another pause.

  “Stranger things have happened, Adam. Hear me out.”

  Custo dragged out a chair from the desk and sat. “We’ll be here. We’ll wait for you. And, uh, we’ve got a situation.”

  He frowned again, and then lifted his gaze to Annabella. “Me and a friend. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

  Annabella raised her eyebrows after he hung up. “Well?”

  “Adam is on his way.”

  Another crazy person. She leaned against the open doorway, sighing. “He thinks you’re a wraith?”

  Fan-freakin’-tastic. The past couple of years wraiths had been all over the Internet and occasionally on the news, though she had never seen one (or wanted to) herself. She didn’t know much about them except they were murderous, insane, and really strong. One Internet clip showed some wicked-looking teeth as well. But what they really were and where they came from, she had no idea.

  Annabella sized up Custo. He was definitely crazy enough and strong enough. She didn’t want to think about the murderous part. At least his teeth seemed normal.

  “He’s entertaining the possibility.” Custo stood and moved toward a cabinet. He rummaged inside a drawer and drew out some kind of anorak, which he dropped on the floor. He dug deeper and retrieved a pile of black clothing. “I want to grab a quick shower. Do you mind? I’ll answer all your questions when I get out.”

  Her list was growing longer.

  Annabella glanced around. The place was bright and the flashlight was heavy in her hand. No shadows here. Plus the message light was blinking on her phone. Probably her mom. “Yeah, okay.”

  Custo disappeared into the bathroom, but he left the door cracked.

  Annabella retrieved her messages. She had one strange hang-up—Adam, most likely—and, sure enough, a call from her mom. Annabella called her, soothed her worries—no mad dogs tonight, lied about an impromptu date with a cute guy, and finished with a “can’t talk now,” heavy with meaning. Her mom was so happy she was on a date that she agreed to hang up on the provision she’d get details later. That conversation would be interesting.

  Annabella ended the call, done and done, then reconsidered and dialed her own number. The call went straight to voice mail. “I am out with a slightly imbalanced man named Custo, who…uh…might be a wraith. He is tall, about six three, well built, with green eyes and dark blond hair. He has taken me back to a place owned by the Segue Institute, whatever that is. He had the codes to get in anyway. It’s on the ground floor of a brick building near West Thirty-sixth and Fifth. Oh, and he placed a call to a man named Adam from my mobile phone. If I should disappear or wind up dead, start there.”

  “Smart girl,” Custo said from the bathroom doorway. “Next time, get a building number, even if it’s next door or across the street. Or any identifying marker of some kind.”

  “Well you can’t blame me for playing it safe.” She pocketed her phone and stepped back, hitting the desk with her thighs. Uh…Wow. Custo in ugly, too-small clothes was good-looking. Custo in a form-fitting, long-sleeve black tee, each ripple of his body hugged by the soft cloth, was devastating. And she knew good bodies. He wore black fatigues, but she couldn’t help imagining him in ballet tights. She almost laughed: This man? In tights? Wouldn’t happen in a million years.

  “I wasn’t blaming you, I was commending you. I like that you can think on your feet. I like that you had the foresight to get that flashlight. Must be awkward to lug around. I assume you have extra batteries?”

  She tilted up her chin. “In my bag.”

  He grinned at her, and she stopped thinking altogether. The smile finally reached his eyes, brightening them with humor. A super-scary wolf was stalking her, and this man was happy?

  “Everything is going to be fine now. I’d tell you to go ahead and bed down, but Adam will be here shortly. Good thing he was in New York. He could have easily been back in West Virginia…” Custo’s smile faltered. “…unless they abandoned that facility after the attack.”

  “What facility? Who is Adam?”

  “Adam Thorne. He runs the Segue Institute. It’s a research facility whose chief focus is the growing wraith population, though it occasionally extends to include other paranormal phenomena as well.”

  “Wraiths again.” And paranormal phenomena. The guy was loco, but then again she was seeing imaginary wolves, so she couldn’t exactly point any fingers.

  “Predators that look like you and me,” Custo explained. “But inhumanly strong and immortal. They feed on the souls of their human prey. I’ve been working with Adam to control their spread for…over six years.”

  Sounded to her from Custo’s call that his employment was in question. She bit her tongue on that one. She didn’t seem to have very many options. “This Adam will look into my wolf?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “Tonight?”

  “We’ll do what we can tonight. Segue has a significant intelligence operation, we should be able—”

  Custo tilted his head, as if listening. Then he moved in a blur, grabbed her arm—the flashlight had her wrist twisting painfully—and pulled her behind him. “It’s going to be fine,” he said too calmly.

  “Where is it?” Annabella’s heart jumped. She grabbed his waist to steady herself and peeked around his trunk, flashlight on, searching for the hulk of the wolf.

  She couldn’t see anything but crates.

  “Hold your fire. I am unarmed,” Custo yelled, “and I have an innocent woman here.”

  So not the wolf. She kept the flashlight pointed at the door anyway.

  Custo glanced down at her. “Don’t resist. I expected this. Adam is only being careful.”

  “On the floor,” a gravelly male voice called back.

  Custo nodded, as if he thought that was the right course of action. “Down,” he said. “They won’t hurt you.”

  “But I thought—” She didn’t know what she had thought. Maybe that they’d be spending the night here. Maybe that he’d have some quick fix to her problem, like Jasper’s hot screw. Maybe that she’d be safe enough to rest so she could be ready for her performance. If she didn’t put her head down soon, she was going to fall down anyway.

  “On the floor now!”

  Custo pushed her to her knees as he lowered himself. “No sudden movements. Just lie on the floor. Everything is going to be all right.”

  No sooner had her cheek touched cold linoleum than several pairs of black combat boots ran into view. One pressed o
n Custo’s neck, the tip of a gun at his head. Other boots had him at his arms, the small of his back, his legs.

  “No, no, no,” Annabella yelled as her body trembled with fear and anger. This was a mistake. A mistake to share a cab. A mistake to trust a strange man. A mistake that might cost her Giselle. “He called you! He called you!”

  Custo had the perverse nerve to attempt a smile at that, boot rubber in his face, but he remained silent, the rest of him still.

  Rough hands hauled Annabella up from under her armpits. Her flashlight clattered to the floor. From the corner of her eye, she spied a soldier dumping the contents of her bag into a messy pile and dissecting her stuff. She was driven up against a wall, held with her arms twisted behind her. Whatever idiot was doing this to her probably thought the arm hold hurt, but he’d be wrong. She’d been dancing since she was four; flexibility was no problem for her. She could have gotten out of it if she wanted, but she took her cues from Custo.

  Let it happen.

  A hand roved her body, dipping between her boobs, as if they were big enough to hide anything. Then the jerk swept the juncture at her thighs. Totally humiliating. He located her mobile phone—didn’t take a genius to put a hand in her pocket. Then suddenly she was yanked back and propelled out the doorway. “If he twitches,” her captor called, “shoot him.”

  “He was helping me,” Annabella said, finally getting a glimpse of the infamous Adam. Dark hair, chiseled face, clenched jaw. Might be good-looking if he weren’t such an asshole.

  “I doubt that very much.” Adam directed her to a black SUV idling in front of the building.

  The street was otherwise dark, shadows shifting with her quick glance. If she couldn’t have Custo, she at least wanted her flashlight, though she doubted Adam would run back in and get it for her. Someone inside the SUV opened the side door.

  “No, you don’t understand,” she said, “he’s a little crazy, but I swear he hasn’t done anything wrong.” She tried to twist out of Adam’s cruel grasp while he propelled her into the vehicle.

  “No, you don’t understand, Ms. Ames.”

  How did he know her name?

  “That couldn’t be Custo Santovari.” Adam’s eyes were flinty, his mouth cruelly twisted with strong emotion. “The Custo I know died over two years ago.”