“No. I’ll take care of it.” He waited until she walked back into her room and then he went to find a change of clothes. Exactly what did one wear to the morgue to stake a couple of corpses?
Chapter 9
It was late when Lanie glanced at the clock in the taxi and mentally calculated how much time she had to achieve the impossible—make herself presentable for the reception. Taking money from her purse, she paid the cabbie when he pulled in front of the hotel and then allowed the doorman to help her out.
She hurried through the lobby to the elevator, wondering if two hours would be enough time. She couldn’t remember when last she’d attended a formal affair. She hoped that Mac wasn’t already upstairs waiting for her. Not just because she didn’t want to feel rushed, but because she didn’t want him to see all the packages she carried. Despite what she’d led him to believe, she really hadn’t meant to spend any of his money, but the credit limit on her card proved unworthy of the challenge she threw at it.
She reached her room, shifted the packages to one hand, and pulled out her key card. As soon as the door opened, she dragged her bounty inside.
Exhausted from shopping, she dropped everything on the bed with a relieved sigh—everything except the dress. That she carefully hung in the closet and then waited for her heart to stop pounding. The dress was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen—and the most expensive.
Crossing to the connecting doors, Lanie opened hers and found Mac’s closed. She knocked and waited.
“Mac? Are you there?”
Visions of that morning replayed in her head as she tried the knob and found it unlocked. Pushing open the door, she poked her head inside. “Mac?”
It took about two seconds to verify that he wasn’t there. The bed had been made and the room tidied—evidence that housekeeping had worked their magic—and the bloodstain beneath the window was gone—probably Mac’s doing—but otherwise the room was dark and empty. Returning to her closet, she pulled the plastic wrap off the dress and stood back to admire it.
All she’d wanted was a simple black dress and shoes to match. After four stores and too many exorbitantly priced, yet astoundingly unimpressive dresses, Lanie had felt like canceling the entire evening. Then she’d seen it.
Even on the hanger, it had been eye-catching—a red so bright it was almost fuchsia, made of a fabric as smooth and cool to the touch as running water. She’d never in her life seen anything like it, and she’d been intrigued.
Taking it into the dressing room, she’d tried it on and was stunned at the vision reflected in the mirror. The cowl neck of the front draped to form a V-neckline that was lower than anything she’d ever worn before, leaving little to the imagination. The open back plunged down low, leaving her bare to the waistline, and a thin strand of small, sparkling red beads ran from one side of the dress to the other across her upper back to keep the dress from falling off. The rest of the gown fit like a silhouette, just snug enough to accentuate her curves with a slit in the skirt that ran all the way up her leg, ending a few scant inches below her hip.
It was the most revealing yet feminine outfit she’d ever put on, and she’d justified the cost of it by rationalizing how much she’d save on lingerie, which would have been impossible to wear beneath it. Her pulse raced in anticipation of what Mac might think. Would he like it? Remembering the changes he was going through and the frightening creature he could become, did she want him to?
The answer echoed as a breathless whisper in her mind. Yes.
Quickly showering, she got out and blow-dried her hair. Plugging in the curling iron she’d purchased, Lanie leaned closer to the mirror to check out the two tiny pinprick marks on the side of her neck. They weren’t grossly obvious, and she was able to cover them with makeup. Her lips she would paint a shiny red to match the dress—but that came last.
Smoothing perfumed lotion—also a new purchase—over her freshly shaved legs, she painted her toenails to match her lipstick.
The open-toed dress shoes she’d bought to match the dress had a higher heel than she was used to wearing, but that didn’t mean much, since she normally wore flats, tennis shoes, or boots. Still, she put them on and walked around the room, trying to get used to them. It wouldn’t matter how great she looked if she tripped over her own feet and fell flat on her face.
Checking the time, she saw that she was down to her final hour. Mac had still not returned, and though she knew it wouldn’t take him long to shower and change, she was worried. Maybe she should have gone with him.
Trying to push her fears aside, she focused on her hair. Somehow, she didn’t think leaving it loose was the way to go, but she didn’t know how to fix any glamorous styles. She decided to play with it and see what she came up with.
Working her way systematically around her head, she divided her hair into sections and curled each one. She picked up her brush and then thought better of using it. She did not want bouffant curls. She wanted something off the neck, soft and sexy.
She crossed to the small bag containing her new earrings and pulled out another of her impulse purchases— decorative bobby pins, complete with small red rhinestones. Using the end of her comb, she lifted a strand to the top of her head and pinned it in place. She continued to pin strands to the top of her head until it was all gathered in a loose type of ponytail, with hair falling in soft curls around her head.
She gazed at her reflection critically in the mirror, turning to examine all sides. Then a slow smile spread across her face. Not bad, if she did say so herself.
The entire process had taken forty-five minutes, leaving her a total of fifteen minutes to finish dressing. Next door there was still no sound of Mac, and she was getting worried. Where was he?
She’d about convinced herself to call someone, Uncle Charles perhaps, when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Lanie, it’s Mac. Listen, I’m sorry I’m not there—I ran into a few problems.”
She knew it—she’d been right to worry. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Nothing I couldn’t handle, but I’m running late.”
“That’s okay.” She prayed he hadn’t changed his mind altogether.
“No, it’s not fair to make you wait. I called Dirk and asked him to swing by and pick you up. There’s no reason for you to miss the party because I’m late. You two go, and I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can.”
“Oh, okay.” She tried to mask her disappointment.
“Admiral Winslow will be there,” he was saying. “I know he wants to visit with you.”
“It’ll be nice to see him again,” she murmured, less than enthusiastically.
“Is everything all right?” Now he sounded worried, and she hadn’t meant for that to happen, so she forced herself to sound positive and upbeat.
“Yes, everything’s fine. I’ll see you when you get there.”
“You bet.”
Lanie hung up the phone and crossed to the closet. It was time to put on the dress. She removed the tags with her nail clippers, and stepping out of her shoes, she unbuttoned the shirt she’d been wearing.
The material of the dress drifted over her skin like a lover’s caress, sending tingles racing across her nude body. Slipping her arms through the armholes, she adjusted the straps as best she could. As in the dressing room, she had trouble reaching the strand of beads at the back, but this time, there was no salesclerk to help her. Much as she hated to do it, she’d have to ask Dirk for help when he arrived.
Speaking of which, it was now eight o’clock. She took the new earrings from their box and put them on. The two long single strands of red crystals dangled from her ears, almost reaching her shoulders, and added the perfect touch to her outfit. She stepped into the bathroom and applied the bright red lip gloss and then examined herself one more time.
She felt self-conscious, but in a good way. Picking up her discarded clothes and other items lying around, she had just enough time to throw them on the f
loor of the closet before the knock sounded at the door. Glancing at the clock, she had to give Dirk credit. The man was prompt.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and watched with satisfaction as Dirk’s mouth fell open and his eyes grew round. He quickly recovered himself, but gave her a slow, appreciative once-over. “Miss Weber? May I say you look . . .” At that point, words seemed to fail him, which caused Lanie to smile.
“Would you like to come inside?”
He gave her a lecherous smile. “No, ma’am. I think that would be an extremely bad idea.”
“Let me rephrase—I need you to come inside for a moment, please.”
He gave her a curious look, and after glancing up and down the hall, he stepped through the doorway and came to a stop just inside.
Turning her back to him, Lanie gestured to the beaded strand. “I need help fastening that, if you don’t mind.”
His fingers brushed her back as he picked up the strand to fasten it, and the contact sent more chills across her skin, causing her to consider Dirk in a whole new light. He was, after all, an attractive man, much like Mac. If she weren’t so interested in Mac . . .
“There,” he said, taking a step back. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She walked over to the table where she’d set her new evening clutch and then joined him by the door, staring at him in confusion when he didn’t get out of her way.
“There’s a slight chill in the air,” he said, as if delivering the weather forecast. “You should wear a jacket.”
She gave him a funny look. “It’s in the mid-eighties.”
He swallowed. “The reception hall will be air-conditioned. That dress doesn’t . . . look like it’ll be warm enough.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He gave up trying, offered her his arm, and escorted her down the hall. “I am so dead,” she thought she heard him mumble as he followed her onto the elevator.
Mac glanced at his watch as he hurried through the corridors of the hospital. Everything he’d done today had taken longer than anticipated because all afternoon, it seemed, he’d moved in slow motion. Unfortunately, it was almost eight and he’d only just arrived at the morgue.
He’d called Lanie before going inside and knew he’d disappointed her. In retrospect, calling Dirk and asking his friend to take her to the reception might have been a mistake. Dirk had sounded a little too enthusiastic, and the thought of them together ate at Mac, making him hurry to finish what needed to be done.
The techs manning the morgue were away, allowing Mac to slip inside unnoticed. Pulling the small four-inch wooden stakes he’d purchased at the lumber store from his backpack, he proceeded to look for the homeless men. Not knowing which cadaver drawer held them, he systematically opened each one and checked the neck of the body inside. Each time he spotted two puncture holes, he hammered one of the stakes through the heart, making sure that the top of the stake did not stick out. It was impossible to cover the gaping hole, but at least the stake wouldn’t draw immediate attention when the body was removed.
He only hoped that the key to killing a vampire lay in destroying the heart, not the presence of a wooden stake, because sooner or later, someone was bound to see the stake and remove it.
Returning to the hotel, he went to the front desk and found the tux that he’d ordered earlier. Taking it upstairs, he walked into his room and immediately caught the clean, powdery scent of perfume drifting through from Lanie’s room. Ruefully, he wondered what kind of dress she’d found and how much of his money she’d spent.
Taking a quick shower, he ran a hand over his jaw. He’d shaved earlier that day and thought he could stand to do so again, but he was already so late, he decided to pass. It took ten minutes to dress and then he was downstairs, hailing a cab.
The ride to the reception didn’t take long, and an hour after he’d left the morgue, he was hurrying up the short flight of stairs that led to the landing where the party was in full swing. Musical strains from a small band drifted to him over the drone of conversation. Several couples mingled outside the great room, chatting in small groups, and he nodded to the men he recognized as he hurried past, being careful not to open his mouth too wide when he said hello. Hiding his fangs would take some getting used to, and he silently vowed to see a dentist soon about filing them down.
Stepping into the grand ballroom was an experience in sensory overload. Lights that seemed too bright to Mac shone down on at least two hundred people, some of whom were dancing in the center of the room, while others stood around, eating, drinking, laughing, and talking. Mac wondered how in the world he would ever find Dirk and Lanie in this crush of people.
Making his way toward the edge of the dance floor, he hoped to have a better view of the entire room. Dirk would be in uniform, which would distinguish him not at all from the majority of men in attendance, since this was a military affair. He thought he might have better luck looking for Lanie. He soon found that was worse because most of the women wore black gowns.
He felt his good mood deteriorate. He wondered if Dirk had his phone on him and was about to find out when a flash of red on the dance floor caught his eye. In a sea of black, the color was an attention grabber, and Mac couldn’t help but look.
From his vantage point, the first thing he noticed about the woman was her bare back, provocatively framed by the drape of the dress. As her partner guided her around the dance floor, Mac noticed the long stretch of leg peeking out from the slit in the skirt. His eyes traveled upward and caught sight of her full figure before the woman disappeared from view.
Mac felt sorry for the woman’s escort and hoped he was man enough to fight off the throngs of male admirers ogling her from the sidelines. There was going to be a fight before the night was out, that was certain. It was impossible to have a woman who looked like that in a room of alpha males and not expect one of them to try to establish dominance. Hell, under other circumstances, he might have been tempted to go for it himself.
He was about to resume his search for Dirk and Lanie when he noticed a young man step from the crowd, his eyes focused on the woman in red. With a sigh, Mac recognized the challenge and determination in the young man’s eyes. Let the fights begin, he thought.
Wanting to find Lanie and Dirk before things got too out of control, he gave a final glance at the couple on the dance floor and felt the violent shock of recognition hit him.
The man facing off with the young challenger was Dirk. In stunned horror, Mac turned to look at the woman and felt his heart stop. It was Lanie.
Mac didn’t know what came over him. One minute he was staring at her in stunned disbelief, the next he was standing before the young admirer, possessed by an animalistic rage.
“Bad idea,” he growled at the young man, whose eyes suddenly grew wide. Mac continued to glare at him until he backed off and disappeared into the crowd. Then Mac stared angrily at the onlookers until the crowd broke and he, Dirk, and Lanie were left alone.
Then he turned on Dirk.
“About damn time you got here,” Dirk snarled at him before he could say a word. “I’ve been doing this all evening. It’s your turn. And for the record, this was your idea, remember?” He turned to Lanie. “Lanie, it’s been a pleasure.” With that, he gave Mac a final look, muttered “You owe me,” and walked off.
Mac turned to Lanie, and even though he thought he was ready for it, the vision before him took his breath away. His eyes drank in the sight of her like a parched man who’d just been handed a cool cup of water. Though it was rude, he couldn’t help raking his gaze over her, lingering longer than was polite over the generous expanse of her breasts exposed by the low neckline. The memory of her nude, in his arms, slammed into him, and for several moments he could think of nothing else.
When he finally noticed that the silence had gone on too long, he focused on her face and the faint blush kissing her checks. “You look nice.”
It was so much less than he wanted to say, but abou
t all he was capable of.
“Thank you.” She offered him a tentative smile. “I’m glad you made it.”
He heaved a silent, frustrated sigh as the band struck up a tune. “You’re killing me, Lanie,” he whispered as he pulled her into his arms to dance.
If she were to die tomorrow, she would be grateful for this moment. The look in Mac’s eyes when he’d stared at her was fierce, appreciative, and primal. She found it frightening—and thrilling.
She fought the nervous laughter that bubbled up inside her. She’d wanted a reaction—and she’d gotten one.
At first, she’d thought he was angry with her, but when he held her close, she knew his anger was directed toward the other men in the room—anyone who might dare to look at her. The alpha wolf in the pack warning all the other males off with his snarl and, if necessary, his bite.
The visual of Mac biting hit too close to home, and she quickly sobered.
“How did things go at the morgue?”
“Piece of cake.” He pulled her closer as he maneuvered them out of the path of another couple, but something in his tone worried her.
“So, no problems at all?”
She heard him sigh. “Only that I seemed to be in a fog all afternoon. I didn’t start feeling better until dark.”
She thought about it as they continued to dance, though it was hard to focus while his hand caressed the small of her back. “In a way, that makes sense. The chupacabra turns to stone during the day, going into a state of hibernation. Sunlight apparently affects you in a similar way, causing you to sleep—or at least, making you very tired.”
“Beats turning into a ball of flames.”
They fell silent and neither spoke for the rest of the dance. When the band finished playing and the last notes of the tune trailed off, Mac brought them to a halt. With no excuse to stay in his embrace, she reluctantly stepped back.
“I see Dirk found the admiral. They’re over by the buffet. Would you mind if we went over there?”
She looked to where he indicated and saw the two. “Who’s that with them?”
Out of the Night Page 12