by Nancy Gideon
"To that point, I thought I was dealing with a flesh and blood wacko. Imagine my surprise when this monster nearly put me through a wall. His strength was ... unimaginable.” He traced the scar with the pad of his thumb. “I knew I was way out of my league."
"So it was Redman who saved the day and got the girl."
He grimaced at Sheba's condensed version. “Pretty much, yeah. But by this time, Harper got wind of what was going on and got to thinking about the potential of having a serum that would grant virtual immortality. Think of it. Indestructible soldiers."
Her eyes narrowed, that suspension of disbelief becoming an impossible cavern.
Cobb rolled to his other side, fishing in the drawer of his night table to draw out two objects, his revolver and a cigar case. He left the gun on the night stand and opened the silver case to withdraw one of two blood vials, each packed with a syringe.
"Go ask Alice,” he murmured. “I saw an injection from this cure Stacy Kimball's cancer. And a shot from the other one made Louis Redman into a man again. Harper sent me down here to protect their investment in Lemos. And to bring back a vampire for further study. A study not for the good of mankind, I can guarantee."
She stared at the ruby-colored vial, mesmerized, horrified by what he suggested. “You'd give that kind of power to the military?"
"That's my job."
Her features reflected her disgust with that claim. “That's a poor excuse, Cobb. And it's a dirty job."
He shrugged without comment.
Her gaze returned to the gleaming vial. “So why didn't you give them those samples to start with?"
"That's my insurance policy. My job security, so to speak.” He replaced the vial and the case in the drawer. Then he looked to Sheba to see if any trace of acceptance showed in those expressive dark eyes.
"Now I'm beginning to wonder if we're both crazy,” was her pronouncement.
"He's here, Sheba,” Cobb told her flatly, allowing for no misinterpretations. “He's preying upon these people and playing at being a god."
"What does he want with me? And what does he have to do with my parents?"
With those two simple questions, she was close to accepting all that he said as truth.
"He likes games, and he likes you. From what the Doc told me, he fancies himself a romantic hero, and I'm his arch rival. He's taunting me."
"Because you came after him, or because you couldn't protect her?"
How that cut to the core. Cobb refused to react. “He took me by surprise. That won't happen again."
"You can keep me safe.” Her statement was edged with a whisper of doubt that slashed to Cobb's soul.
"I'll see that both of us are vindicated,” was his stalwart vow. “Lemos is taking us to see his grandfather, and then we'll go pay a visit to this tomb he thinks might be the one your parents were going to when they ... disappeared."
"When they died, Cobb. They died.” She released a savage sigh and sank back upon the mattress to stare at the netting over head. “Someone or something killed them, and I have to know who and why. I don't know if it's your vampire or my demon or just some greedy fool who got in over his head and had to resort to murder. But I have to know. Help me, Frank.” She turned her head to gaze at him in entreaty.
"We'll help each other."
She nodded. And after staring into his impenetrable gaze for a long moment, Sheba decided it was now or never if she wanted to help herself. There had to be some reward worth all the danger she'd be facing. Without weighing the consequences, she palmed the back of his head and pulled him toward her.
His breath sucked in between his teeth. For a moment, his mouth was thin and immobile against hers as he weighed those consequences she was determined to toss aside. Fearing she had made a dreadful mistake but forging on because her only option would be to draw back with an apology, she touched the tip of her tongue to the firm seal of his lips.
And unlocked his passions.
With a fierce exhalation, he slanted his mouth upon hers, twisting, tasting, satisfying all the curiosity and want he'd suffered since first charting those lush lips with his imagination. She was glorious. Soft, supple, and so sweetly urgent in her need to respond to his every nuance. The moaning sound she made in her throat was liquid with pent up longing. Again, he wasn't stupid enough to think it had anything to do with him. It was reassurance she was after, validation of her womanhood, of the fact that she was alive. At the moment, he didn't care if it was just sex. In fact, it was better if that was all it was. He understood sex a lot better than he could comprehend or fulfill the complexity of Sheba's demands upon his emotions.
So he kissed her, making it a simple response and exploration instead of anything that might get messy or meaningful. He fed off the pliant luxury of her lips while refusing to indulge the sudden sense of starvation that urged him to take more, to delve deeper, to meet any demands Sheba might make.
And when she opened her eyes to stare up at him, it was with perplexity, not passion. And then with injured pride.
"I'm sorry. I know that's not part of your job."
How prickly she sounded, the spines of insult surrounding any possible vulnerability. He grinned, impressed by her porcupine toughness despite the barbs he'd just received.
"Tonight it is,” he answered. “And I'm sorry it wasn't my best work. Maybe later we can try it again, when there isn't so much at stake."
"Don't flatter yourself, Cobb."
Chuckling softly, he drew her up against him. For a moment, she was stiff with resistance. Then when she realized his motives were protective not seductive, she relaxed an increment at a time, until only her embarrassment separated them.
"Go to sleep, Doc. I'll take this watch."
Too tired to argue for the sake of personal vanity, Sheba closed her eyes and let exhaustion overcome her. So, she'd made a fool of herself with Frank Cobb. Surely she wasn't the first woman to throw an incomplete pass his way. Work and travel. A man with no time or interest in fun along the way. She, of all people, could relate to that. But at this point in time, in this place of hidden terrors, she'd wanted to relate to another person in a very personal way. And silly her, she'd wanted that someone to be the wily mercenary.
There was something about Frank Cobb that touched a kindred chord in her. Something about his dedication, his drive, and the loneliness he accepted because of those two things. And he believed her, believed in her. Perhaps that was all it was. Just a pathetic gratitude. And the sudden, inexplicable desire for intimacy.
She'd wanted that kiss to sizzle with enough heat to burn down the surrounding jungle. She'd wanted fireworks, and she'd gotten a flick from a Bic. A nice steady flame, but hardly a forest fire.
He'd been humoring her. Perhaps that's all he'd been doing all along as part of his precious job. Keep the crazy girl happy and out of the way. Tell her what she needs to hear, and she'll follow you anywhere. Humiliation blended with hurt to make a nearly fatal cocktail of disappointment that was more than a little bitter to swallow.
Why had she ever thought she could trust a man who made his living lying?
But liar or not, it felt too good being near him to allow pride to have its way. The calming cadence of his breathing in the darkened room held a mesmerizing effect, quieting her need for anything but sleep.
It wasn't his fault, after all, that she'd been looking for signals that he'd never sent. Tomorrow, when she was rested and on top of her mental form, she would rehash what Cobb had told her. Right now, tangled emotions and weariness prevented serious thought.
Vampires, he'd said.
Nonsense, of course. Just a way to distract her.
There were no monsters, her father had told her. And hadn't she proved it over and over again?
But look what had happened to him.
From the deep shadows of the porch, Paulo Lemos watched the door to Frank Cobb's room. As he waited, his hope that Sheba would emerge and return to her own quarters faded.
> Fury and endless pain twisted through his soul.
She was his. That was the way they'd planned it. The way it was meant to be from the time they were children. He'd never considered any other possible scenario. He'd never considered ... that she'd fall prey to a man like Cobb.
He sat and mulled over the two options before him. He could burst into the room and drag her out. His hot Latin blood demanded action. How satisfying to reclaim the woman he loved from the arms of a villain. But the thought of finding her tangled intimately with another man ... thinking about it and being confronted with it were two very different things. Would he ever be able to look at her the same way again? His heart ached with indecision.
Or he could do nothing.
He could return to his room and pretend he'd never seen the two of them disappear behind Cobb's door. A man like Cobb wasn't a permanent interference in the future scheme of things. He didn't want Sheba for anything long term. And when he cast her aside, Paulo would be there to pick up the pieces of her broken heart and put them back together.
And then she would turn to him as she always did, for comfort, for understanding, for love.
Yes, he liked that idea very much. Much more than the thought of direct confrontation, which made his stomach go queasy. He could beat Cobb in an IQ test but probably not in a test of strength.
But doing nothing meant spending the evening knowing exactly what was going on in the other room between the man hired to protect him and the woman who was to be his wife.
"An awkward situation."
The voice, coming from so close to him and speaking so personally to what plagued his thoughts, startled Paulo, but he smiled ruefully at the speaker. Why bother to deny the very painfully obvious truth?
"Yes, isn't it? I have no idea how to act without acting the fool."
"Ah, what man hasn't acted the fool over a woman? And this one, such a prize."
"Yes,” Paulo said again, this time with a tang of bitterness. “He knew she was mine, and he took her anyway."
"Then he should be punished, am I not right?"
Punished. Yes. How good that sounded.
"But how?"
"I have the perfect solution for how you can strike back at Mr. Cobb."
Paulo turned toward the speaker, a question forming on his lips. His answer came without words, in the shape of horror so unbelievable, so sudden and terrifying, he had no time to object or resist as fangs sank into his throat.
The vampire drank, not until full but until satisfied. Then Lemos was released to totter on weak legs, his mind a blur until a strong suggestion filled it.
"Go back to your room and sleep. Wait for my instructions. Together we will have our revenge upon Frank Cobb."
Chapter Fourteen
Frank Cobb awoke surrounded by hedonistic luxury. Silken heat curled around him. A warm scent that could only mean woman toyed with his senses. And woman could only mean—
Sheba.
He was instantly alert, but true to his training, didn't move until the situation was fully assessed. His room, daylight, Sheba in a bathrobe beneath his covers, twined about him in the most inviting manner. No threat, except to his resolve to stay emotionally detached from the woman in question.
Except the robe had come undone.
During the night with her restless twists and turns, she'd managed to slip the belt and wiggle herself almost completely free of the binding chenille.
Her very naked self.
She lay nose to nose with him, one long, lithe leg tossed carelessly over his hips, one arm wound possessively about his middle. Her tousled head tucked in neatly beneath his chin, tickling him with a riot of gold-tinted curls. If he'd been able to look down, he could have seen what his senses sucked up so greedily—her small, taut breasts pressing to his shirtfront, puckered and pointed from exposure to the lazy stir of the ceiling fan. No more than a glorious handful.
But his hands were already full, one with a mass of those untamed locks and the other with the sleek curve of her bare flank.
In all his years of having to wriggle out of dangerous and potentially lethal situations, this one provided no easy out. Probably because he felt no immediate desire to escape.
Lord, she smelled good, of his soap and traces of body lotion that clung to the robe. Beneath his palm, her skin was as supple and firm as glove leather. He ached to follow that tempting contour, over and under, where other pleasures were unexpectedly open to him.
Exerting tremendous control, he wrestled his focus up from certain disaster and took a slow, deep breath, inhaling the smell of her herbal shampoo. He nuzzled into that fragrant cloud, finding her streaked hair as soft as spun silk, and suddenly he was unbearably curious to discover its true color since the opportunity presented itself. All he had to do was disengage the wrap of her limbs and roll her gradually onto her back and glance down, down—
"Are you trying to cop a feel, Mr. Cobb?"
Caught by the tart demand, in thought if not yet in deed, he did the only thing possible. He lied.
"No, ma'am. That's the farthest thing from my mind."
In truth, it was only a little bit farther than the urge to get that good, unrestricted look at her. Groping couldn't come close to what he had in mind. He wanted her tangled around him with those long arms and legs and himself buried in her. But discretion was sometimes the better part of getting out of a sticky circumstance alive.
So he lied again.
"I was trying to decide the best route for causing the least embarrassment."
A perfect choice of words. Thoughts of romance and passion were slapped out of her head.
"Well, why don't you cover your eyes so you won't be morally compromised."
He shut his eyes, pinching his lips together to restrain the grin that wanted to break loose. Now was not the time to take amusement in the situation.
In a flash, she was out of his arms and off the bed, dashing his desires but hardly stamping out the flames they'd started. He couldn't remember ever wanting a woman as desperately as he did the slender scientist who stood wrapped up in her robe as if it were armored dignity.
"Thank you for taking me in last night,” she stated with an icy civility. “If we're to get an early start this morning, I've got packing to do.” Her gaze raked over him as he stretched out leisurely on the rumpled bedcovers. “No, don't get up. I can handle things perfectly well myself."
Not as well as he'd wanted to handle them.
His smile slipped free in slow, sly increments as she slammed the door.
* * * *
She'd been naked in his arms, in his bed, and he hadn't even tried anything!
The humiliation was devastating.
Sheba struck the betraying dampness from her cheeks and continued stuffing her belongings into a rugged backpack.
What was wrong with him?
What was wrong with her?
Was he that much of a saint, or did he find her so unappealing that he wasn't even tempted by the availability of her beneath his covers?
Men! Hang them all! Unpredictable, unreliable and totally undecipherable.
What was it about this one man that had her spinning in circles like a hound chasing its own tail when the rest of the species were so easily ignored? She'd had no trouble relegating them into something to be studied for sociological and cultural significance rather than as having any personal significance within her own exclusive realm. Until Cobb pushed his way into that previously impervious focus with his crafty smile, competent manner and disarming claim of “I believe you."
What a bastard!
And now after he'd gotten her all worked up into a hormonal lather, he expected her to rinse off in the cold shower of his indifference.
It wasn't that she'd been hungry for sex ... well, she was, but it was more than that. She'd wanted ... oh, hell, she didn't know what she'd wanted.
No. That wasn't true. She did know. She wanted Frank Cobb, as a man, as a mate, as a friend and con
fidante. But the feeling obviously wasn't mutual.
Well, she'd disgraced herself enough for one lifetime. Time to stop acting like a moonstruck teenager and comport herself like the professional she was. She'd given romance her best shot, and it had deflected her punch. Time to move on to the grim purpose of the trip. The jungle awaited, and whether it held the key to her past or the vampire of Cobb's imagination, they would find out soon enough.
* * * *
"Good morning, Paulo.” She bent to press a quick kiss upon his oddly unshaven cheek. Instead of studying his usual periodicals, he was lost in the examination of his coffee cup. He didn't look up at her.
"Sleep well?"
The smooth stab of that question had her frowning as she sat next to him at the breakfast table.
Why did he sound so angry?
"Yes, actually I did. And you? You look like you spent the night cramming for a university final.” She meant to bring some levity to his obviously dark mood, but he preferred to remain sullen.
"Sorry my looks don't appeal to you as much as some others I might name."
"What?"
He glanced at her then, just a quick flicker of red-rimmed eyes up to accuse her of something she—
He'd seen her with Frank.
That explained his surly temper. Though why he should react to the details of her personal life with such an angry extreme was beyond her.
Unless...
No, this was Paulo, her lifelong friend of childhood.
A child no longer.
Understanding struck like a downtown bus.
Paulo was in love with her. What had been a boyish crush had developed into a man's desire. Looking back with unfortunately clear hindsight, she recognized the clues he'd thrown at her like darts into a board, if only she hadn't been too dense to realize what bull's eye he was aiming for. Paulo wanted her as much as Frank Cobb did not.
And he'd seen her with Frank.
She started to explain that nothing had happened, if only to put her friend's mind at ease. But that wouldn't be the absolute truth. She'd kissed Frank Cobb. If nothing had happened, it wasn't for her lack of trying, and Paulo would see right through any comforting lie she tried to tell. And that would make matters ten times worse.