by M. L. Guida
“I want to call the police right when we get there,” she said.
“Of course,” he promised. He pulled the jeep into a parking space in front of his condominium.
Deirdre stumbled out of the jeep. “I want to call the police now.”
He nodded. “I said we would. This way.”
“Can’t we call them from here?”
Janus cocked his eyebrow. “You want to wait for the police in the parking lot rather than in my condo?”
“I don’t know you.”
He pulled out his cellular phone and handed it to her. “Call them now. We’re at the Cove Bay Condos off Highway 1. My condo is 214 and my name is Janus Morano. I’ll wait for you upstairs or you can stay here.”
As Janus handed the phone to Deirdre, her fingers brushed over his and tingles rushed over him. He wanted to seize her wrist and kiss her, but he’d frighten her and possibly send her running into the jungle that crowded up close to the condos. He forced himself to leave and hurried to his townhouse where he hid in the shadows on his balcony. Deirdre wasn’t in any danger. He could easily leap from the balcony and kill anyone who threatened her.
Perhaps he wasn’t sure it was her at first as he watched her dance with that asshole. There were a few physical differences, but when they locked eyes, he knew. He called out to her heart and heard the exact rhythmic beat of Delores’. Joy, almost unbelievable, consumed him. But it was quickly muted by apprehension. He had played and replayed what he would say, how he would act, to convince her of their bonds. But for all that, his confidence petered out, and he was unsure of what to do. Until he saw her fear of Brandon. Then all that mattered was her protection.
She whispered on the phone, giving the police information. She hung up and kept peering down the dark road that led to the highway. Headlights crept up the road. Deirdre bounded out of the parking lot. She pounded on his door. “Janus, please let me in.”
Janus opened the door and pulled her inside. “Deirdre, what’s wrong?”
“Brandon. He’s found us.”
Janus pulled her into his arms.
She gripped his shirt. “He’s going to kill me. I…I…I hit him with a lamp. He doesn’t like defiance.”
He rubbed her back. “Shhh, it’s not him.”
“How do you know?”
He almost blurted out he was a vampire, but caught himself. He reluctantly left her. “I’ll check on the balcony. He drives a black Mercedes?”
She nodded. “A sports sedan.”
He walked out onto the balcony. “It’s a red Ford. Not Brandon.”
“Oh.” Deirdre sank onto a barstool. She wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked. “Thank God. I’m sorry. I’m still frightened.”
Janus picked up two clean dish towels. One he wet and the other, he put a couple of ice cubes in the middle of it. He twisted it so the cubes were at the end. “Of course you are,” he said. “He really hurt you.” He dabbed her cheek and she winced.
“I’m sorry. I know it hurts,” he said.
“I’ll do it,” she said.
Not wanting to argue, he gave her the towels.
She wiped her face and cleaned off the blood. “He promised he wouldn’t do this again.”
“Again?”
She nodded and held the towel filled with ice against her swollen cheek. “It happened one other time. He said he wouldn’t do it again. Said he loved me. Even proposed.” Her voice cracked and she burst into tears.
At the word proposal, he tensed and his heart threatened to shatter into a million pieces. He rubbed her back, afraid to do anything else. She flinched. Giving her some space, he backed way and struggled to find the right words to comfort her. When Deirdre had been upset in the past, he’d hold her close and she wrapped her arms around him, their hearts beating as one, but that wouldn’t work. Like she said, she didn’t know him. He was a stranger.
“Deirdre, would you like something to wear besides your torn dress? It’s about to fall off your shoulders.”
He didn’t know if he could handle seeing her half-naked.
“You have something?”
“No female clothes, but you’re welcome to wear something of mine.” He grinned at her. “I know I’m a little taller than you.”
He got a small smile in return. She put the dish towel loaded with ice over her now swelling eye. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
The woman could bring him to his knees. Pushing back his desire, he rushed into his bedroom and snagged a soft cotton shirt out of his closet and a pair of sweats.
She sat huddled on a bar stool.
He tilted his head. “There’s a bathroom—”
“In your bedroom?” Her voice shook and she stared at his bedroom as if it was a lair leading to hell.
He gestured. “There’s also a bathroom right by the front door. Please. You’ll feel better.”
She reached for the shirt and sweats and disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she emerged. His green shirt swallowed her up and hung down to her knees. She had rolled up his sweats and padded along his hardwood floors barefoot. She’d tied her dark thick hair into a pony tail, exposing her slender neck, her blood tempting him. He wanted to kiss, lick and suck her sweet skin like he had ages ago. But she was a broken rose, one that needed to be handled with special care. How could Delaney want to hurt such an exquisite flower?
“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you with him?”
She looked away. “He wasn’t always like this. I’ve lived with him for the past five months.”
A lump formed in his throat. Five months? Shit.
“He never hurt you during this time?”
“God, no. He’s been charming, tender, loving. He used to make me laugh. After my parents died, I needed some laughter. He’d tell me jokes until I cried, make funny faces, take me to comedies. For Halloween, he dressed up as Snoopy and actually did Snoopy’s dance, his nose in the air, moving his feet fast, and I laughed so hard I almost peed myself.” She wiped her tears. “I fell in love with him.”
Deirdre might as well have stuck a dagger coated with hallowed mud, graveyard dirt mixed with holy water, into his heart. “So, he used to treat you well?”
“Yes, spoiled me actually. Fancy dinners. Expensive clothes. But it wasn’t the money I loved. It was his humor and his tenderness.” She lowered her gaze. “He’s my boss. I’m his secretary.”
“Your boss?”
“He’s an attorney. A powerful one.”
“And?”
She strolled over to his small Christmas tree. “You’ve got a beautiful tree.” She glanced at the box of ornaments on the coffee table. “How come you haven’t decorated your tree?”
“My family’s tradition was to decorate the tree on Christmas Eve.” He left out that that it had been their tradition, one he had kept up after all these years.
She reached into the box of ornaments and pulled out a white porcelain horse ornament with roses on the saddle. “Brandon helped me out during some dark times.”
Janus held his breath. Interesting she focused on that one. She had cherished the little horse when she’d been alive. He’d given it to her their first Christmas.
She stroked the horse, just like she had when she was alive as Delores. Wishing, hoping, he tried to remain calm, but his hands shook. The slip of a woman was about to bring a master vampire to his knees.
He nodded. “There’s a story that goes with that horse.” His voice shook and she lifted her slender eyebrow.
“Oh?”
“The story goes that a little girl came to Jesus’ manager. Heartbroken, she had no gifts to bring to the poor infant, so she cried. Her tears turned to roses when they splashed onto the ground. She quickly gathered the blossoms and offered him a bouquet of red blooms. The roses on the horse’s saddle are a tribute to the little girl.”
“What a lovely story. I love roses.” She sat on his leather couch and crossed her legs. “They’re my favorite flo
wer.”
Janus forced himself not to move. Delores had a magic touch with gardens. Her flowers were grand and brilliant, and at each of their homes, their rose gardens shadowed their neighbors. At midnight, she used to stroll in the garden and inhale their fragrant scent, but he liked to spread her naked body on a bed of rose petals, the moon shining on her skin, her brown hair fanning over the petals. He ached to take her again, to kiss her, to spark her memory.
“Brandon is allergic to roses.”
He gripped the arm chair. “Allergic?”
“Yes. However, he’s a great gardener. Has a green thumb and grows zucchini, squash, tomatoes, cucumbers. Before we started living together, he’d bring his produce into the office.”
“You were telling me why you’re with him.”
“A drunk driver killed my parents on New Year’s Eve.” She brushed more tears off her face. “Sorry.”
He handed her a box of tissue.
“Thank you.” She wiped her cheeks and blew her nose. “This is the first holiday without my parents.” She broke down and sobbed.
Janus wrapped his arms around her. Her shoulders shook and she sobbed onto his shirt. “Cry all you want,” he said.
She stopped and squirmed out of his embrace. “Sorry. I’m just real emotional.”
“It’s understandable.”
“Your shirt’s all wet.”
He shrugged. “It will dry. Do you feel like talking? We don’t have to talk about it.”
“No, I’m okay for now. My parents were coming back from my party. I should have insisted they spend the night, but I had a fight with my dad.”
“Over?”
“My dad, he didn’t like Brandon.”
“Brandon was at the party?”
She shook her head. “No. Dad was an attorney and knew Brandon. He didn’t want me working for Brandon. Said Brandon was a scoundrel. I’d been out of work for awhile and needed the job. Dad said I could move in with them until I found something else, but I wanted to be on my own.”
“So, you’re Miss Independence.”
“Because of my stubbornness, both of my parents are dead.”
“This is not your fault, Deirdre.”
She sniffed and dabbed her eyes. “Yes, it is.”
Janus winced from the sharpness of her tongue.
“Anyways,” she said, “Brandon brought the drunk driver to justice. He was the son of a senator and the senator tried to get the charges dropped.”
“Brandon fought him?”
“Yes, the boy received ten years in a minimum security facility. We were lucky to get that sentence.”
“How’s your eye?”
“Cold. Still hurts.”
He wished he could take her misery, give her something else to take her mind off the pain. Vampires don’t need medication and seducing her was out of the question. She was too raw, too vulnerable. “I’m sorry.”
A knock sounded. “Honolulu Police.”
Janus opened the door to a gray-haired male police officer. “I’m Officer Tomas Kalakona. We received an emergency call from a Miss Deirdre Hahn. Is she here?”
Janus stepped aside and tilted his head. “Yes, she’s inside. Please come in.”
Officer Kalakona radioed dispatch before he entered. “Miss Hahn?”
Deirdre held the rag to her cheek. “I’m in here. Thank you for getting here so fast.”
“Do you need an ambulance?”
She shook her head. “No. He only hurt my face.”
Janus ran his hand through his hair. Only her face? Brandon needed a thrashing.
Kalakona pulled out a pen and a tablet. “Who did this to you?”
Deirdre lowered the towel. “Brandon. Brandon Delaney.”
“Tell me what happened, Ms. Hahn.”
“Brandon and I were dancing at Billy’s Bar when a waitress spilled some drinks on his pants. He blamed me and left to fix his pants.” Her voice faded.
“And?” Kalakona stopped writing.
“Janus helped me pick up the broken glass. He offered me some wine. I was a little shook up.”
Kalakona frowned. “Shook up?”
“A few weeks ago, Brandon beat me. His anger reminded me of that last time. He swore he’d never do it again. We got engaged tonight and then…then…”
She bit her swollen lip and winced. Janus resisted the urge to hold her against him and whisper he’d protect her forever. He clenched his fists and kept his arms against his side to keep from hugging her. “He beat her, Officer.”
“I’m afraid you’ve another problem, Miss Hahn,” Kalakona said. “Delaney filed a complaint against you. He said you came at him with a lamp, and he only hit you in self-defense. He also says you stole a ring.”
Janus gritted his teeth. Asshole. “That’s a damn lie.”
“Were you there Mr. Morano?”
Janus leaned against the wall and folded his tense arms. “No, I wasn’t. You’re not actually going to believe Delaney, are you?”
“Officer Kalakona,” Deirdre said. “I tossed the ring down in the hallway when I was running away. I’ve no idea where the ring is. Brandon’s lying. He beat me, and to get away I struck him with the lamp.”
“I see,” Kalakona said. “This is a case of he said, she said.”
“This is unbelievable,” Janus said.
Kalakona ignored him. “Do you want to file an official complaint?”
“Yes.” Deirdre stuck out her chin. “He’s not ever going to hurt me again.” Determination glistened in her eyes.
“I’ll file the complaint, but I’m supposed to take you down town for questioning.”
“Fine, we’ll meet you there,” Janus said.
“I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work that way, Mr. Morano. Miss Hahn needs to come with me.”
“So, I am under arrest?”
“No,” Kalakona said. “You’re a person of interest. The detectives will determine whether or not you’ll be charged.”
Deirdre’s shoulders drooped. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“No, I’m sorry. You don’t.” Kalakona gestured. “Shall we?”
“I didn’t mean to get you involved in this Janus.”
“I’m already involved. You’re not doing this alone.”
She clasped his arm. “Stay here. You don’t know Brandon.”
He kissed her trembling hand. “No, Deirdre. Brandon doesn’t know me.”
Chapter Three
Deirdre lay her head on the back seat of the police car and stared at the navy blue ceiling. Brandon had played a trump card. He was a powerful attorney and she was just a legal secretary, his legal secretary. Who would believe her innocence? She’d be spending Christmas Eve in jail unless she agreed to his terms.
Her face throbbed. She shivered and her teeth chattered from the air conditioned car. She snuggled into Janus’s sleek, soft shirt against her chilled skin and inhaled. Spicy sandalwood. The scent took her mind off her bumps and bruises. Brandon wore a cinnamon scented cologne, sometimes drowning in it. But she could get used to the smell of sandalwood.
She gritted her teeth. If Brandon thought she’d beg him to get her out of jail, then he could go straight to hell. She’d rather rot in jail than spend a miserable Christmas Eve with him. She glanced out the police car’s back window. A pair of headlights followed. The street lights shined on a yellow jeep. Janus said he’d come with her. What had he been doing at the Turtle Bay Hotel? Had he followed her?
Back at his condominium, when he’d gotten angry with Officer Kalakona, she could have sworn his eyes flashed red, but then changed back to dark brown. His eyes were almost black, black as night. Warm and expressive, not cold icy blue like Brandon’s. She should get lost staring into Janus’s expressive eyes.
A wicked headache pounded and she rubbed her temples. Fog clouded her mind and a vision crept from the recesses of her mind. Janus was running toward her in the snow, calling for her. He was screaming something. Danger. Danger fr
om what? Sharp pain slammed into the back of her head and she cried out. The dream vanished.
Officer Kalakona glanced in his review mirror. “Are you all right, miss?”
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “Just have a splitting headache.”
“Did Mr. Morano hurt you back there?”
She gripped her oversize sweats. “Janus, no.”
Weird to be having a waking memory. She never had those. Brandon must have really hit her hard.
Kalakona pulled into the lot of the Honolulu police station. Through the car window, she stared up at the three story white building. The officer opened the door and she got out. He put his hand on a pair of silver handcuffs. Humiliation laced with fear raced through her veins. Her lower lip trembled. He grimaced and dropped his hand. She gave him a small smile, glad he didn’t treat her like a dangerous criminal.
She was surprised to see Janus waiting at the double glass doors. How had he gotten there so fast? He was following behind them. She glanced over her shoulder and the yellow jeep was parked in a couple of rows back.
“This way, Miss Hahn,” Officer Kalakona said. He led her through the doors and Janus walked along side. A large sign read Protect and Serve over a counter with a glass partition and a female officer stood behind the desk and lifted an eyebrow.
“Bringing her in for questioning,” Officer Kalakona said.
The woman pushed a red button. It buzzed and a door opened.
“I’m coming with her,” Janus said.
“No, you’re not,” Office Kalakona said. “You’ll wait here.”
Janus glared, but didn’t follow.
Her heart threatened to thump right out of her chest. She clutched her elbows. Brandon wasn’t in the lobby. Where was he?
A dark haired woman, dressed in a red suit and white blouse with a badge clipped to her skirt, greeted her. “Miss Hahn, I’m Detective Nancee Akao. I’ve been expecting you.” Her hard brown eyes pierced Deirdre’s soul. The woman had convicted her without a jury. What had Brandon told her?
Detective Akao tilted her head. “Thanks for bringing her in Officer Kalakona.”
Her voice was curt and crisp.
Office Kalakona grumbled something under his breath. It sounded suspiciously like he called the detective a bitch.