CHAPTER 8
As he had Monday and Tuesday, Derek continued to call and fill her in at the end of every work/school day. Usually, he phoned from the gym office. His voice was always low. Kate didn’t have to ask why—he took a risk calling her from the school. Part of her hated that he took the chance; another part knew she’d go mad with worry if he didn’t.
Worry for the boys at Fenton, with a monster on the loose.
Worry for Derek at Fenton, with a psychopath to catch.
The fact that he didn’t call her from his real office at night made her suspect he was staying at the school, prowling the grounds, alone, in the dark. While she wouldn’t want to experience that nightmare again, she would have done it to prevent him from being by himself.
Aside from arousing her concern for his safety, the quickness of the calls had prevented her from even telling him she had printouts of Taylor and Isaac’s emails. Knowing he might find something useful in them, and wanting to know if he was still at it, in that dank swamp, on Friday night, she bit the bullet and reached out first. She texted him, asking if they could meet so she could give him some important information.
He texted back: Doing some research. Nine too late?
It wasn’t. Midnight wouldn’t have been, if it gave her more answers. She only hoped their meeting wouldn’t be in the company of alligators and snakes.
When she told him that was fine, he responded: Meeting someone at a bar called Son of Sammy’s. Can you come there?
Sure. As long as it’s not a serial killer hangout.
I think the dude’s father really is named Sam.
Maybe the serial killer’s was too.
Nope. Berkowitz’s father was named Tony.
Should I be worried you know that?
More worried than you are about everything else I know?
Good point.
9pm.
Relieved, she arrived at the bar a few minutes early, surprised he would choose to meet her in this part of town. Knowing Derek preferred to avoid areas where he might run into his, er, ghost imprints, she would have expected him to choose a McDonald’s by the interstate.
Or…maybe not. Car accidents, dummy. God, was anyplace safe for that man?
Still, a bar in the historic distract seemed to be inviting unwelcome encounters. It was, after all, the oldest part of town. Savannah was beautiful and genteel, but could still be dangerous, like any big city. The crime rate was statistically high. It had a long history of dark deeds. He was likely to stumble across one of them here.
Figuring he knew what he was doing, she parked on one of the city’s pretty squares. She walked across the bricked sidewalk and around a corner toward the address she’d located for Son of Sammy’s. Although the place was less than two blocks down the side street, the mood changed as soon as she left the charming square. No tour buses or Girl Scouts would roam this area. Liquor stores replaced gift shops as the sidewalk segued from aged brick to cracked cement. The buildings became dark and shuttered, one with plywood over a few windows.
Hearing a low thrum of music and a quiet murmur of voices emerging from an open door, she spotted a small sign and breathed a sigh of relief. When she entered the dark, shadowy place, she paused to look around, realizing the truth immediately. She was in a vampire bar. Awesome.
The walls were paneled in dark wood, with swaths of red satin draping doorways and corners. The music was eerie—foreign words with a woman chanting, He’s coming. Beyond creepy. Customers dressed all in black, with pale faces and darkly-outlined eyes, turned their heads. She couldn’t have felt more out of place than a sheep at a wolf convention.
“Okay, so maybe it is owned by a serial killer,” a soft voice murmured in her ear.
Relief flooding through her, Kate looked to her right and saw Derek standing beside her, wearing his typical frown, not to mention his cloak-thick tension.
“I was about to go outside to watch for you. You’re early.”
“Sorry.” She looked around. “I wonder if I should have worn my garlic bulb necklace.”
“One guy is. I think he’s walking on the wild side and daring somebody to bite him.”
He looked down at her, his eyes flaring slightly in appreciation of her blue dress. It was long-sleeved, but tight, and cut low in the back, which he hadn’t even seen yet. Maybe he’d thought her dress was “nice” on Monday. Tonight, she looked sexy as sin, and she knew it.
Deliberate? Oh hell yes.
Other than a low, audible exhalation, Derek didn’t make a sound.
“So, do you come here often?” she asked.
“No. The guy I’m meeting chose the location.”
“Let me guess…he has filed teeth and orders drinks with names like Blood of a Virgin or Satan’s Crimson Orgy?”
“You’ve been here before.”
His light tone relaxed her. “I once had a patient with Renfield Syndrome.”
He looked around. “Maybe you should troll for new customers.”
“I’m not lacking in patients.”
“That makes us opposites because I’m often accused of lacking patience.”
“Oh my God, Mr. Dark-and-Angry makes a joke.” She rolled her eyes at the pun. “Unfortunately a bad one. I think I like you better when you’re all growly.”
“You like me, huh?”
“We’ve established that already,” she admitted. “Jerk.”
Liking was probably too mild a word for it, growly or not. She also really liked the glimpses she’d seen of a more relaxed Derek Monahan. Though Son of Sammy’s didn’t seem like his kind of place, he wasn’t wired with tension like he’d been when they met. So maybe this dark, secretive, shadow-filled bar relaxed him more than his own office did.
“I’ll make that up to you,” he said, moving closer to her, their legs brushing.
Knowing exactly what he was talking about, she gave thanks the interior of this place was lit in red so he couldn’t see the heat that had to be rising in her cheeks. “What makes you think I want you to?”
Feeling a warm stroke down the small bones of her back, she gasped. She hadn’t even noticed him slip his arm around her. That simple touch—fingertips on her naked skin—started a volcano burning deep inside her.
“You want me to.”
“Well, why do you want to? I mean, you certainly didn’t the other night…”
“For a doctor, you can be awfully obtuse.” Ignoring her dropped jaw, he continued. “I told you before, I don’t mess with clients. You’re a client.”
Another stroke of his fingers, lower this time, against the small of her back. The volcano burned, lava bubbling.
“You’re messing with me now, Derek,” she whispered, surprised she could make a sound that didn’t end in ohmygodpleasekeepdoingthatonlymoreandlowernadhigherandeverywhere.
The hand fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Christ, how do you women know a dress like that makes a man want to fall to his knees and lick every tiny indentation up your spine?”
This time when she wobbled, it took both his hands to steady her. One on her back, the other landing on her stomach. She moaned. For someone who didn’t want to mess with her, he was doing a fine job anyway. Closing her eyes, she counted to five, a typical calming technique.
“You are the most confusing man I’ve ever met,” she whispered.
“Don’t try to figure me out, okay? We’re past the shrinking, I hope.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry if I was too pushy Monday night. The things I said….”
Maybe that was the real reason he’d kissed her and then turned to stone. Perhaps he’d been punishing her.
“No. I’m sorry I didn’t make you understand I had to put some distance between us before I stripped you naked and put you on top of that table.”
Deep breath. Another count to five. “You saying stuff like that isn’t helping me keep the client-P.I. relationship in mind.”
He tried to swipe a hand through his hair, apparently forgetting it was shorter and there wasn’t quite as much to swipe anymore. “Okay, no more, except to again say thanks for what you were trying to do the other night. Before, uh…”
Before he rocked her world and then set it spinning? Uh huh. “I was just trying to help you get past some things.”
“Do I need to remind you that you really don’t wanna be inside my head?”
Actually, she did, though not in a clinical way. She wanted to know him better—really know him. She wanted to see if there was anything she could do to help relieve him of some of the obvious burdens he carried. Because she worried about his ability—and the way he’d found out about it? Because she feared for him that he used that ability in his everyday job? Because she had pictures in her mind of what he’d experienced during his time in the military? Or because of something else…like the fact that she was developing feelings for him?
All of that. And so much more.
“I need a few minutes with my source. I’m holding a table in the corner.” He pointed to a shadowy two-top with more of that red satin drawn in a swooped-back curtain that, when closed, would completely conceal the interior.
“Do you want me to wait here?”
“You can go sit down.” He nodded toward the bar, and the young man standing behind it. “He’s the one I’m going to talk to, as soon as he’s got a minute.”
The guy looked like the clientele. He was black-leathered, pierced, studded, dyed, and made up to the n’th degree. The fact that the goth movement was passé meant nothing here.
“Are you working another case as well as mine?” she asked, curious.
“No.”
“Then why come here?”
“He is part of your case.”
They stood on the edge of a small dance floor. The throbbing, strange music had brought a few people onto it to sway, and Derek moved close to her, putting his hands on his hips. They weren’t dancing, and Kate knew he was trying to remain unobtrusive and blend in. That would be impossible even if they were as pale and black-clothed as the other customers, given his height, his power, his sheer magnetism.
His closeness distracted her all over again, making her forget what he’d said about keeping a professional distance, even though he’d said it about ninety seconds ago. His tall, hard body was pressed against hers in all the most interesting places, and those places were definitely interested. She was reacting to Derek in a way that had nothing to do with client and detective, and everything to do with man and woman.
“When you lean into me like that, you make me forget all my resolutions,” he mumbled against her hair.
She felt the warmth of his breaths against her neck. For the first time, she began to understand the allure of a hot mouth biting into soft skin at the nape.
The eroticism of the place was working on her. Maybe on both of them. So she backed away a little, allowing a whisper of air to separate their bodies.
He sighed, but he didn’t try to pull her back again. Instead, he went back to the point. “The bartender’s name is Robby Morganstern. He was a student at Fenton a few years back.”
She tried to turn and look.
“Don’t. He’s skittish. He doesn’t like to remember his days there and is trying to live his life like he’d never heard of that school.”
“I don’t blame him. Has he told you anything so far?”
“Not yet. It took a while for him to even agree to see me.”
He glanced at the bar, and she snuck a quick peek too. The bartender had finished making drinks that were plucked up by a server, and was watching Derek. He slowly nodded, indicating he had time to talk.
“Go ahead to the table. I’ll tell you everything he tells me.”
Stepping out of his arms, she said, “Good luck.”
“Want a drink?”
“Does it have to be red?”
“Only if you don’t want to stand out.”
She didn’t want anything gooey, thick, or in any way reminiscent of blood. “Merlot.”
Feeling him watching her, she wove around the room, toward the back corner. His stare burned into her back. Kate didn’t know if he was worried some guy would ask her to dance, would bite her neck, or he just wanted to be sure she went to the right place. But she had to admit, his protectiveness was nice. She wasn’t used to it and didn’t think she needed it—unless she fell face-first into a bog. Still, she didn’t mind seeing yet again that strong, protective facet of his character.
He might play the unemotional badass, but Derek Monahan obviously cared. A lot. Which made his dark ability even worse, as far as she was concerned.
Reaching the tiny table, she pushed the drape back further and slid into the seat against the wall. Then she pulled the material all the way across until the rest of the bar was completely out of view. Considering everyone in the place had been staring at her, and she’d started to feel a little like a blood bank—catalogued by A, B, AB or O instead of red-haired, green-eyed, and tall—she couldn’t say she minded.
Maybe it was the spooky, otherworldly atmosphere, the dead-looking clientele, or her own tension, but Kate suddenly found herself doing something she hadn’t done in weeks. She called out to her brother. Isaac.
Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, letting the low murmur of voices and the tinkling of glasses fade away, until she was in that strange space, that mass of void, where she and her brother had always connected. It wasn’t a real place, more like one they’d invented, filled with shadows and echoes. When she’d first started talking to Isaac telepathically, she’d started envisioning them being together in that world-beyond-this-one.
Where are you? What happened to you?
She waited. The resounding silence that answered instead of Isaac’s usually-happy response was louder than it had been in months. Louder than anything she’d ever heard. There were mountains of it, worlds of it, nothing but emptiness out there in the mental plane where she had once shared entire lifetimes with her baby brother.
Please don’t be gone forever. Please come back, at least long enough so I can say goodbye. So I can say I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.
She’d never talked to a ghost, hadn’t even believed in them until recently. Now, her mind having been blasted open like a dark tunnel opened to the light with sticks of dynamite, she let herself believe it was possible. Let herself wish and pray that she and her brother could still have a final conversation in the fantasy world their minds had created and shared. She wouldn’t have him, she knew that, but perhaps she might share one last moment with his spirit.
“You are taking a most dangerous risk being here, madam,” a low voice intruded, smooth, with a faint hint of an eastern European accent.
Startled out of her reverie, Kate realized the curtain had been pulled back. A strange man moved the other chair around so he could sit directly beside her. Uncomfortably close, in fact.
He was pale, and wore an old-fashioned looking suit with what she thought was an ascot tied around his neck. Although he was sitting, she could tell he was tall and lean. His hair was jet black, cut and gelled into a stark widow’s peak. With startlingly dark brows and equally startling red lips against that white skin, he certainly drew attention, even in this crowd. When he offered her an intimate smile and she saw his pearly teeth, complete with canines sharpened to tiny points, she had to admire his efforts.
“Nice outfit. Count, isn’t it? Or Lestat?”
“One of those was a fictional character.”
“Want to clue me in on which?”
“You’re a disbeliever?” One of his brows went up, the other eye narrowing, and he stared hard into her eyes. His were dark, nearly black, the pupils pinpoints. Piercing.
Some women might get into the whole sexy vampire look. She wasn’t one of them. Kate rarely even dressed up for Halloween, and cosplay was definitely out of her wheelhouse.
“Let’s say I’m a skeptic.”
“I could make you believe.”
“I don’t think so. Now, if you don’t mind, I am waiting for someone.”
“I assure you, you were waiting for me.” He leaned closer and stared harder. It was as if he really thought he could hypnotize her with his eyes. Or wanted to make her think he could. “Come with me, beautiful woman, and I’ll show you the world.”
Torn between laughing and offering him her card so he could seek professional help, she was saved from doing either as a tall, broad shadow fell over the table.
“No,” a deep voice ordered. “Why don’t you come with me?”
Derek didn’t wait for an answer. He simply reached down, grabbed the other man by the lapels of his old-fashioned suit-coat, and lifted him out of his seat. Kate swallowed hard, watching the flex of thick arms that bulged against the sleeves of Derek’s snug T-shirt. Not even breathing hard, he easily hoisted the man up high enough so he dangled inches off the floor, and then set him aside.
“Go away, Drac.” He sounded bored. “Now.”
“Dude, sorry, I didn’t know she was with anyone.”
That sounded far more Florida surfer than Transylvania royalty, and Kate smiled as the other man rushed off. Reaching to the next table, Derek retrieved a full glass of red wine and a beer he’d apparently set down before he’d sent Dracula scurrying. Nodding toward the goggle-eyed trio who’d watched the entire exchange, he then slid into the seat he’d just emptied.
“I could have handled him,” she said, torn between appreciating his interference and annoyance that he thought she’d needed it. Of course, watching the play of Derek’s thick muscles and the ease with which he handled the other man made her glad she hadn’t had to.
“I know. But I thought I’d save us a little time.”
She liked that response. Every time she forgot he was not like any other man she ever met, he reminded her.
He nodded at the glass of wine he’d put on the table. “You can probably guess the brand. I can’t guarantee it’s any good.”
She went along, pretending nothing had happened, and lifted her glass. One sip justified the warning, and she tried hard not to grimace.
He obviously noticed. “Let’s get out of here.”
“It’s fine. It’s quiet. Beats loud music and gyrating hook-up artists in a typical bar.”
“I guess the count counted on sharp teeth rather than bad dancing for his pickups?”
“And he got picked up instead.”
She sipped again, relaxing into the chair and into the lousy wine, and looked at him, studying him through half-lowered lashes. He hadn’t moved the other chair back into position, and she had to give thanks to the pick-up guy in the old suit.
God, he was nice to look at. Derek Monahan was the most impressive man she’d ever seen. He was sexy as sin any day, but when he went into protector mode and started lifting grown vampires right out of their seats, he was awe-inspiring.
Something about the low, throbbing music, the red lighting and décor, and the exciting, protective man sitting across from her chased every other thought from her head. Yes, she wanted to know what he’d learned from the bartender. Another part of her, though, wanted to close the curtain on their booth and get lost in a private world of their own. She wanted another kiss like the one they’d shared Sunday night—all hot, sweaty, and intense. Then she wanted one like Monday’s—sultry, slow, and sweet.
Then a thousand more.
Derek watched her closely. Not taking his eyes off her, not saying a word, he reached to the side and pulled the crimson drape closed again. They were left alone in a sea of satin and intimacy. She suspected his reasons for wanting privacy involved only his conversation with the bartender, and he didn’t want to be overheard. Hers were…more complicated.
She’d been focused on her missing brother for so many months that her attraction to the paranormal investigator had blindsided her. Left her reeling. Then, his sudden coolness the other night had made her angry and tense.
Now, all of that eased away. She was relaxed, aware of herself as a woman, and knew what she wanted. Maybe it was the shitty wine, or the red drape. Something had brought out Kate’s most feminine, sensual side. As she looked at Derek’s handsome face, she couldn’t help thinking about how much she wanted to seduce him. Soon. Not after the case was over.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice little more than a heavy whisper as he lifted his glass to his lips.
“Seducing you.”
He slowly lowered his beer. “Excuse me?”
She shrugged. “I’m just being honest. I’ve been thinking about it since you kissed me Sunday night.”
“I believe you instigated that.”
“I distinctly remember you bending down to kiss me.”
“After you flashed those eyes and pursed those lips in an invitation invented by Eve.”
“You know she gets a really bad rap.”
“Evil women tempting poor, helpless men.”
She sighed slowly. Nothing about the man opposite her was helpless. Eve herself would have ignored the snake and the apple if Derek had been her partner in that garden.
“Admit it, you wanted me to kiss you.”
Her strange mood made her blunt. “Yes, I did. It was a pretty intense night.”
“Yeah, it was.” He drank. Wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Continued. “I guess I can’t deny I wanted it, too.”
Her fingers trembled. A tiny bit of red wine sloshed out of the glass, hitting the white tablecloth, staining like drops of blood. She didn’t imagine the staff would mind much.
“There’s no denying you were the one who kissed me Monday at your office.”
“I wouldn’t even try.”
“The Mr. Cool act afterward was because you were mad at yourself for breaking your no-clients rule.”
“Right.”
She rubbed the tip of her finger around the top rim of her wineglass, creating a low hum that matched the one in her body. “What about after this case is over?”
His eyes gleamed. “That changes things.”
Mm. Good to know.
“But fair warning, Doc. I don’t do relationships.”
She didn’t have to be a psychiatrist to know that. Anyone with an ounce of intelligence would know it after spending a few hours with him. He wore his unavailable vibe like a…well, like a vampire’s cape. Still, he was also incredibly sexual, she had seen that right away. It was why she’d been so tense around him the moment they met—because he emitted the kind of energy that put every red-blooded woman on alert. She didn’t imagine many of them were put off by his indifference, not least of all because he made for an irresistible challenge.
“I suspect few women are happy about that.”
“I’m too screwed-up for most women to handle.”
Most. Not all. She knew what he could do, she’d seen it firsthand. If anything, his dark gift only made him that much more fascinating.
Given what he did, and what he saw, though, his reluctance to get involved with anyone made sense. She had to wonder how much of that strong, sexual energy was put to good use.
“So, no relationships. No clients. I assume you don’t come to places like this and rely on costumed meet-ups with Elvira, Mistress of the Dark?”
“Definitely not.”
“I can’t imagine you ever needing to pay for sex.”
He jerked as if she’d slapped him.
“Or using an online let’s-bang app.”
He merely grunted.
“Does that leave gyrating fuck-boy on the dance floor looking for a hookup?”
His eyes gleamed reddish as they narrowed, and his mouth tightened. “Did you just call me a fuck-boy? Worse, a gyrating one?”
Hearing the steely tone, she made herself go on. “I certainly don’t take you for celibate.”
“I’m no boy, either.”
“I’m not trying to insult you. You’re obviously a man. A very…potent one. I have to wonder how you direct all that energy, given your rules and regulations.”
“And you suspect I do it through hook-ups and one-night-stands?”
Knowing she’d offended him, she regretted her words. Maybe some residual irritation from Monday night was egging her on. Probably it was.
Before she could say that, he continued. “Is that what you want?” His tone was smooth, tinged with something that might be anger. “A one-night-stand to get it out of our systems? Do you think that would be enough for you? For either of us?”
Damn, she could not figure this man out. Was that an invitation? Or a warning? “I don’t know.” Having come this far, she had to admit the rest. “I haven’t been with a man in a long time—since before I went overseas. For the first time since then, and since my brother’s disappearance, I want to. I’m not sure I want to play by your rules and wait.”
She sipped her wine. He stared.
“You’re saying we should break the rules?”
“They’re your rules, not mine, so I suppose you’re the one who’d have to break them.” Another stroke of her fingertip on the glass. Another hum, soft and somehow erotic. “I wonder if I could tempt you to do it.”
It was warm in the bar, but she couldn’t tell if it was the curtain or the draped lamps that made his face appear to redden.
Bullshit. She knew. Her directness had surprised him, as it often did men. Kate just didn’t know any other way to be. She sensed Derek was man enough to handle a woman who could never play coy. Besides, it was only the truth. She did want him. She’d always been cautious in relationships in the past, knowing everything about a person she chose to go to bed with. In her line of work, hearing people talk about instincts they couldn’t ignore, compulsions that ruled them, and risks they took, it didn’t make sense to do anything else.
Derek was different. Having no clue about his relationship history, his address, or his criminal record didn’t matter when it came to this man. She’d learned so much about him that night in the swamp, when he’d made it clear he would do whatever was necessary to get to the bottom of the mystery at Fenton Academy…as long as that didn’t include letting her get hurt. The honorable role was a part of him, despite his brusque outward demeanor and attitude. He had a warrior’s spirit and a noble heart.
Kate had known strong men in the past. She’d worked with them overseas—the determined, heroic ones who really cared. They were a rare and special breed. This one, she’d already realized, was so rare, and so special, he appealed to her on a level none of those others ever had.
The silence continued. He looked determined. He also looked the slightest bit unsure.
“You could tempt me, Kate,” he finally said. “But you’re not the once-up-against-the-wall-in-a-back-hallway type.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Is that where it usually happens?”
“You really think I know? You really do think I’m that man?”
Maybe when she’d first met him. The bad-boy attitude, the sneer, the long hair, the chain on his hip, the heavy boots, the motorcycle—they were all associated with a certain type of guy. Now, though, she knew him, and realized how wrong her first impressions had been.
Hero. He’s a hero.
“No, I really don’t,” she admitted. “I was being bitchy and making assumptions. I guess I haven’t entirely forgiven you for Monday night.”
“Again, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. But you are the one who wore that dress and showed up with food.”
“Touché.” He hadn’t, however, answered the real question. “Does that leave celibacy?”
He rolled his eyes. “Jesus, you are a pain in the ass. Are you always so nosy?”
“Are you always so evasive?”
“I like to fuck, okay?” he snapped, his voice possibly loud enough to be heard outside their curtained corner. Loud enough to make her flinch as electricity sparked through her veins.
Kate knew he could be coarse, but he hadn’t talked like that to her before. She liked it. Judging by the lazy heat pooling low in her body, making her shift in her seat, she liked it a lot.
He lowered his voice to add, “Yes, I’ve thought about being with you since we met. This conversation is wrecking me, and doing you up against a back-room wall sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all year. This place makes me want to take you, explore you, bite you.”
Kate quivered, her feminine instincts responding to that raw, masculine note in his voice. She’d been romanced. Courted, even, in the wealthy social circle in which her family moved.
She’d never been he-manned. Jesus, she’d never dreamed it could be so appealing.
“Let me repeat myself, though. I don’t make a habit of getting involved with clients. Especially not clients with missing family members they’re desperate to find.”
She stiffened. “You think I’m reacting out of grief? That I don’t know my own mind?”
“I’m saying I don’t know mine,” he snapped. “I can’t figure out why you’re so damn distracting, why I get so irritated when you get so reasonable, why I kiss you when you’re covered with mud.” He shook his head, his tone gentling. “You’re the expert. Tell me, why do I feel the need to call you every damn day? Why did I let you come into this place for an update on your case when I’d never do that with any other client?” Then, with a helpless, confused shrug: “Why I dream about you, Kate?”
Oh dear lord. His voice was filled with surety combined with almost angry confusion. His admission that he thought about her, that she got under his skin, didn’t reach into her clinical psychiatrist’s mind for an explanation. How could you explain chemistry? Attraction? How could the innate draw between two people ever be reasoned out or rationalized? Longing came from other places than the mind. She wasn’t a good enough doctor to try to explain where or why, she only knew she felt it too.
“You mess with my head, too,” he added. “I don’t like having my head messed with. Frankly, it’s hard enough to keep it neat and organized as it is.”
“I’m sorry, Derek. Believe me, I’m not a game-player.”
Any woman foolish enough to play games with him was taking a risk. This wasn’t a typical man with nothing more to think about than a nine-to-five job, relationships, and easy, uncomplicated sex—if there were such a thing. Derek was a well of swirling memory and loss, tragedy and violence. He’d seen more death than the most battle-scarred soldier, yet remained the kind of man who swept a woman off her feet, and could occasionally still make a bad joke.
What did it take, she wondered, to keep that part of himself—the normal, average guy part? How hard did he have to fight to keep the other one—the haunted, tormented one—from taking over? And how was this confusing attraction between them contributing to both of those internal battles?
His rules were for his own protection, as well as for hers, she suddenly realized. He needed them, relied on them. And here she was trying to mess that up for him.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she admitted, trying to shake off her own sensual mood, not very successfully. Still, she forced a small laugh. “You’re a lot stronger than I am. You’ve made up your mind, and I had no business trying to change it.”
He said nothing, merely staring at her. She squared her shoulders and stared at him, too.
That was when she realized something had changed. Rather than easing the tension between them, it had shot up. Her heartbeats were audible, hot blood rushed through her veins, and she saw his pulse throbbing in his neck.
She had been trying to bring them back. For some reason, though, her words seemed to have dragged them toward this precipice they’d been skirting since the day they met.
From outside, the low murmur of voices, the tinkle of glass, and that strange music faded into the distance, retreating and leaving them in a world of hot breaths, heated bodies, and red.
It was apparently too much. He gave up.
“Screw this.”
She had just enough time to breathe as he reached for her and lifted her by the waist. Effortlessly twisting her around, he sat her on his lap.
“Oh, God, Derek,” Kate gasped when she realized what their conversation had done to him. Feeling his hard, powerful erection straining against the crotch of his jeans, she crumbled as everything inside her went soft and wet.
“You are way more tempting than Eve,” he growled.
He cupped her head, his fingers twisting hard in her hair. His other hand was high on her thigh, strong and masculine. It made a declaration and a claim. In the scant seconds it took for him to catch her mouth in a kiss, she was on fire and ready to explode.
Wet, deep, hungry and devouring. That was how Derek kissed her. That was how she kissed him back.
Kate lifted her hands and dug into his hair. Tilting her head, wanting an even deeper possession, she met every hungry thrust of his tongue.
This wasn’t sweaty and adrenaline-driven. It wasn’t slow and sweet.
It was hot. Wicked. Not a kiss you exchange and then walk away from. This was the kind intended for tangled sheets, slick skin, and the deepest, most intimate connection two people could share. This was a kiss for sex.
Time and place faded away. Nothing else existed except his mouth, his tongue, his hands, and his hard body. As they shared hot breaths and wild bites and licks, all her most erotic nerve endings awoke from a long slumber. She was reacting to the taste of pure, utter male.
Pulling his lips away from hers, he scraped them against her jaw, whispering, “You make me insane, Doc.”
The hand on her thigh slid up, tugging her dress with it, just as his mouth moved down her neck. She was torn in two directions, unable to concentrate fully on one before he did something wickedly delicious to the other.
He breathed on her nape, scraping his teeth across her skin. When he’d gotten her dress high enough to suit his purpose, his hand moved between her bare thighs. The touch sent her reeling and flying, even while the core of her begged him to sink in and bring her back to solid, perfect reality.
“Oh, God,” she groaned, arching toward his mouth, twisting toward his hand.
He bit her neck, but not too hard, just enough to make her groan. The groan turned into a guttural cry when his warm fingertips slipped under the elastic of her underwear.
“Kate,” he muttered against her neck as he explored her. When he dipped his fingers between the wet folds of her sex, she gasped. She was quivering, desperate with need for more.
His thumb found her throbbing, swollen clit, swirled and stroked it. Kate opened her mouth to cry out. He caught her before she could do it, kissing away her cries. Their tongues entwined, dancing a deep, delicious tango. She felt possessed by the kiss, by the power of his hand holding her head in place. And by those fingers that continued to work magic, gliding up inside her, making her tremble, as he palmed her right where she needed the pressure most.
Not a half-minute later, Kate closed her eyes and came fast and hard. Gasping, she shuddered and quaked, feeling incapable of staying upright. He held on, kissing her through it, not moving his hand until she had stopped shaking. When she had, he gentled the kiss, moving to the corner of her mouth, and tasting his way to her chin.
“Christ you’re beautiful,” he said. He stroked the curls covering her sex, and then shifted her underpants back where they belonged. “I want to watch you do that a hundred times.”
“I think you could, right here and now,” she whispered once she felt capable of speech.
Nothing like that had ever happened to her. Not ever. She liked sex, she’d had it with some men. She’d had orgasms, certainly. But not like that. Not while sitting on a fully-dressed man’s lap, letting him finger her into oblivion.
In a public place.
Kate gasped, jerking her head to look at the curtain behind Derek’s back. It was waving gently, whether moved by their harsh breaths, or because she’d been thrusting in utter lust a few moments ago, she didn’t know.
“Did that really just happen?” she asked, looking up at him, a little stunned.
He pulled her dress down and dropped one last, light kiss on her mouth. “Yeah. It definitely did.”
She didn’t know how to respond. What had felt so utterly natural—so right—a couple of minutes ago, now seemed surreal, like the experience belonged to someone else. Dr. Kate Lincoln was not the type to crawl onto a hot man’s lap and let him pleasure her a few feet away from tables filled with strangers. Dr. Kate Lincoln was reserved, professional, and dispassionate. She was not a woman who indulged herself when and wherever she needed it.
At least, that described the person she’d once been. The one raised in Brookline, the daughter of those Lincolns.
Now? Honestly, she wasn’t sure who she was. She only knew she had changed. It wasn’t just tonight. It wasn’t simply meeting this insanely attractive man. Honestly, it wasn’t even the loss of her brother.
If she had to put her finger on it, the change had really begun when she quit her job and went overseas to work in a place foreign to anything she’d known. She’d given up security, even luxury when it came to her parents, in exchange for dust and heat, rage and violence, blood and death. Everything that had happened since had contributed to the new person she was becoming. A person who could flat-out tell a man she wanted to seduce him…and then allow him to seduce her in the most wicked, delicious, unbelievable way.
“Do I need to apologize?” he asked, apparently noticing her introspection.
She shook her head. “Do I?”
“Not a chance.” Without another word, he lifted her again and set her back in her chair.
“Do you ever let people get in and out of their seats on their own two legs?” she mumbled.
“Sorry. If I don’t put some distance between us, I’m gonna do something stupid.”
“And what we just did wasn’t stupid?”
A wolfish smile tugged at his mouth. “Oh, many things, but not stupid. Damn, Katie, you make me nuts. I’ve never done anything like that in my life.”
Katie. Nobody except Isaac had ever called her that. She liked the way it sounded from Derek’s mouth, liked the warm, satisfied expression on his face as he said it.
Not that he could be satisfied, not the way she had been, anyway. But she knew by the way he’d put her back in her place, and was now moving his chair around to the other side of the small table, that they were finished with that part of the evening. There would be no more PDAs in Son of Sammy’s tonight, at least not from the P.I. and the shrink.
“Just so you know, nothing’s changed,” he told her.
Her jaw fell.
“I had to touch you, had to let you know you tempt me to pure sin. We still have a job to do, though. Sex will seriously mess that up.” He reached over and pushed a strand of her hair away from her face. “But remember one thing. When this is over, Kate…I’m coming for you.”
Her breath left. So did her shock. While a sassy, inner Kate wanted to reply, Like I just came for you? she was too turned on by the dark, erotic promise in his eyes to reply.
He must have seen the dreamy look on her face, realizing how easily they could fall back into that place where nothing else mattered except the want and the smell of sex in the air.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
She cleared her throat. “Okay. I’m sorry. We should get back to work.”
“I know.” Derek sipped his beer, then lifted his hand to wipe his lips. Suddenly closing his eyes, he groaned as he took a deep breath. Inhaling her scent.
She began to quiver all over again. “You’re not making this easy.”
“Jesus, I’ve never wanted to solve a case more in my life.” He dropped his hand and looked at her, realizing what he’d said. “Not just because of…”
“It’s okay.” And it was. She knew what he meant. He wanted to find out what was going on at Fenton Academy as much as she did for many reasons, not just because they had set their personal relationship to pause until it was over.
“Let’s move on.” As painful as that promised to be. Reaching into her purse, she grabbed Taylor’s emails and dropped them onto the table. “Maybe you’ll find something useful in these.”
“Kate, you know I…”
She glared at him. “Derek? Either take me in the back hallway and have me against the wall, or shut up and focus.”
He coughed into his fist. She couldn’t tell if he was shocked, amused, or frustrated. Whatever the case, her demand worked. “I’ll read them tonight,” he said.
“Have you learned anything more about the boy who went missing last week?”
“Not much. Nobody’s talking about it, other than the Eli, the kid I told you about it.”
She couldn’t believe this was happening again. “The culture of silence at the place stuns me. How could that many adults be so completely blind?”
“I don’t know if it’s blindness, intimidation, or fear.” Sitting back, he crossed his arms and frowned. “I’ve been trying to get a minute alone with this teacher, Andrews. He’s a bit squirrelly. I think I make him nervous.”
“Can’t imagine why,” she muttered. “What about the bartender?”
Derek offered her a quick biography of Robby Morganstern. The guy was only twenty-one, despite a face that wore more years than that of hard living. He was from Virginia, and was the son of a city councilman. He’d embarrassed said councilman one too many times and had been dumped at Fenton.
“Doesn’t sound like the school whipped him into the shape a politico father might want.”
“No, it didn’t. He was lucky—he only landed there as a senior. Not enough time to really grind him under the boots of out-of-control authority.”
Like Isaac.
“He made it through the year and ran like hell when he turned eighteen.”
“Ran?” Her heart skipped a beat.
“I meant he ran off from his family after he graduated,” he said, sounding sympathetic. He knew what thoughts had skirted across her mind. Like the possibility that Isaac really was alive out there. Maybe working in a weird bar, maybe living a life on the fringes. But alive.
He’s not. You know he’s not.
No. She would have heard from him. Even if in hiding, even if chained to a wall, were he alive and conscious, Isaac would answer her mental pleas to let her know he was all right.
Derek told her a few more details about the academy, none of which surprised her. She’d known about the strict atmosphere, the violent discipline, the vicious faculty, and harsh conditions. Her brother had told her about some of it. The rest she’d filled in on her own.
“Robby also remembers whispers about something the boys call the charnel house.”
She shivered, assuming the students had learned the unusual term from a recent horror movie. It was pretty apt in connection with Fenton Academy. Given the history, and its violent and death-infused past, burial sites and body-storage would probably have been necessary.
“He said he doesn’t actually know anybody who’s seen it, and few of the boys had heard of it. But there were whispers when a kid disappeared during Robby’s senior year.”
“We’re not talking about Building 13?”
“No. He had firsthand experience with that place, which is used regularly. This is something else.” Derek pulled a folded napkin out of his pocket. “The kid was dumped in solitary enough that he remembered the route to 13.” He shook his head. “I’ve been looking all over this week. I guess I came pretty close a few times, but just missed it. Robby drew me a map. I should be able to find it now.”
“You can find it? Or we can?”
His mouth tugged up at the corner. “You’d really go back there again? After everything that happened the first time?”
“Bogs, mucky kisses, gators, mosquitos—” Oh, God, the mosquitoes, he’d been right about the bites, “—and snakes don’t compare to finding out what happened to Isaac.”
“You’re calling my kisses mucky? As I recall…”
She glared. “Don’t start that again.” Having finally gotten her focus where it needed to be, she didn’t want to be drawn back into thoughts of how that man’s mouth had felt on hers. Not to mention those hands. God, those strong, rugged hands.
“Sorry. But no, I don’t think we should risk being seen together. I have enough free time when we’re not in camp that I should be able to check it out alone. If anybody sees me, I can play dumb new-guy. Not so easy to do if the number one person on their Top Ten Most Unwelcome list is caught there with me.”
“Understood.”
“You’re not going to argue about it?”
“Why would I argue about something that makes perfect sense?” she replied, confused.
His laugh softened the hard planes of his face and made his dark eyes gleam warmer under the strange light. “I was thinking about the women from work. Olivia would agree but stick out her bottom lip. Julia would just be fighting to go back out there.”
Julia. His boss. His gorgeous, sexy boss. And more?
Don’t ask. It’s none of your business. Who cares? Boundaries, Kate!
Pandora overrode the inner voices. “Were you and Julia ever…involved?”
His hand tightened around his beer mug. “Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know, to be honest. She’s beautiful.” Of course, so was Olivia Cooper, but she could never envision Derek with the willowy, fragile-looking blonde.
His shrug was almost too deliberate, too determinedly nonchalant. “Once. Not anymore.”
Her heart tightened a tiny bit. She couldn’t say why. She and Derek had shared a couple of kisses. Something might happen between them in the future. That didn’t mean she had any right reacting to who he might have slept with in the past.
“We’re better as friends,” he added.
“But you still care about her.”
“Yeah. Like I’d care about anyone who’s lying on the tracks, waiting for a train to roll over them.” He sighed. “This love affair with her ghost is gonna end badly. Someday, the dude is gonna go all Patrick Swayze and leave Demi Moore to make her clay pots alone.”
She understood. The longer it went on, the less chance there was that the sexy, vibrant Julia Harrington was going to move on with her life with a real man. It was sad, and she understood now why Derek seemed to fall into a mood when his boss’s name came up.
“Don’t say anything to her. It’s a touchy subject.”
“Of course I won’t.”
Derek continued filling her in on what he’d learned. It sounded as though he already liked the boys he was teaching, and was taking the boot camp assignment seriously. She hoped some of Isaac’s classmates had a better time of it than they otherwise would have. It was not really comfort at the loss of her brother, but it might at least be one positive.
“You want another, or are you ready to get out of here?” he asked when he’d finished talking, she’d finished questioning, and they’d both finished their drinks.
“I don’t think my liver could handle another.
“Okay.” He swished the curtain back. Heads turned. Every pair of black-outlined eyes stared, as if to see if she was sprawled out on the table with two puncture wounds in her neck and a blood trail running down her throat.
The hush of expectation disappeared when they saw a normal couple emerge. She only hoped no one had heard that normal couple having a wild sexual encounter behind the curtain.
The crowd had grown. Every table was filled now, and people stood around them. The dance floor was a wall of moving bodies trying to find a beat in the weird music filling the space. Vampires apparently liked to party on Friday nights, like regular nine-to-fivers.
Maneuvering through, Derek stayed close, one hand on the small of her back. The touch was probably meant to be protective, but again caused embers to burn and lava to flow. That faint brush of skin on skin was as erotic as an embrace, and she felt it all the way down to her toes. Her breath came faster, her cheeks heated, and she wished she hadn’t had the warm wine.
“Going so soon, sexy?” a deep voice asked. “Don’t you want to stay here where it’s dark and so very…red?”
Kate swung her head and saw a handsome, blond-haired, black-clad man gazing not at her, but at her companion. She wondered how Derek would respond. She didn’t think he was the type of alpha male who’d grow irrationally furious that another man was coming on to him, but she’d been surprised before.
“No thanks.” He pointed toward Kate. “The only red that interests me is on her head.”
Kate chuckled, not entirely surprised by his cool rejection. He might have used her merely as an excuse to brush-off a come-on, but she was pleased by it nonetheless.
“I don’t blame you,” the other man said. He turned to face Kate and stepped in closer. Lifting a so-pale-it-looked-dead hand, he slid his cold fingers into a strand of her hair, fingering it sensuously. “I would love having that warm redness spread all over my body.”
And that was when Derek reacted. This wasn’t the amused, almost bored guy he’d been earlier with the vamp in the booth, or the blasé one who’d rejected a proposition from a man. His mouth pulled tight, turning his jaw into a boulder. His eyes narrowed, muscles rigid, and shoulders bunched, he grabbed the stranger’s wrist and wrapped strong fingers around it.
“Get your hand off her right now.”
He might as well have been a little kid saying, “Mine.” God, that He-Man was so hot.
The blond froze, like an animal sensing danger. “No offence meant. I was hoping the three of us might…”
“Let. Her. Go.” Derek edged in, looking down into the not weak-looking stranger’s face. “I don’t want to pull a single strand out of her head making you.”
The fingers disentangled. The hand fell away. The stranger swallowed hard.
Derek, his eye twitching, his jaw locked, continued to stare. He still looked furious. Not to mention dangerous.
The other man backed up a step. “I’m sorry. I assumed, since you were here…”
“You assumed wrong.”
“I see that now.” Gulping, he looked over at Kate. “I apologize.”
She murmured her acknowledgement, willing the guy to just walk away.
He got the message and edged back, like someone trying to escape the gaze of an angry bear. Right before he disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor, he cast a quick glance at Kate, and mouthed, “Wow.”
“Let’s go.” Though Derek’s anger wasn’t directed at her, it was still intimidating, and tangible. Heaven wouldn’t have been enough to help that threesome-seeking stranger if he’d persisted.
“So the guy who sat down at the table wasn’t a problem, but this one was?” she asked, a little confused.
“Drac was a kid,” he said with a sneer. His scowl returned. “This one touched you.”
That, it appeared, had been the red line.
As they left the bar and he walked her to her car, staying close and staring away anyone who even stepped in their path, Kate knew she had some serious thinking to do.
Why would Derek have been so calm and easy reacting to a come-on from another guy…but almost lose his mind when the same guy had touched her? It made no sense.
Yes, they both knew they were going to have sex once this case was over. Yes, she was already developing complicated feelings for the man. But a future affair and one-sided feelings didn’t mean they were in any kind of relationship.
So why had he acted like a jealous, possessive, protective lover? Because he felt that way about her? Because, no matter what she thought, something was growing between them that was about more than physical attraction, and more than this case?
She didn’t know. Nor did she feel like figuring it out as a doctor.
She was, instead, content to lie in her bed that night and try to make sense of it…as a woman.