And Then You Die

by Iris Johansen

  “Maybe he's not even here. Maybe the informant was wrong.”

  “He's here.” He nodded jerkily at the photos on the floor. “I just can't recognize the bastard.”

  “You only saw him from a distance once.”

  “There should be something . . . some way.”

  She knelt down to gather the photos, and he was immediately beside her. “I did it. I'll pick them up.”

  “Is that another one of your mother's rules?”

  “It's my rule. You break something, you fix it.” He set the photos on the coffee table. “At least, you try. Sometimes you can't put Humpty Dumpty together again.”

  “Well, this particular Humpty Dumpty wasn't irreparably damaged.”

  He wouldn't look at her. “I'm sorry.”

  Before she could respond, he vanished into the kitchen.

  Fourteen

  Bess had never seen Kaldak like this. He was practically pacing. She could almost feel his intensity charging the room.

  All evening she'd tried to keep her eyes on the pages of her book, but she was scarcely aware of what she was reading.

  She finally gave up and tossed down the novel. “Anne Rice isn't holding me tonight. I think I'll go to bed.”

  He glanced at the book. “She writes about vampires, doesn't she?”

  “Yes, and about New Orleans. I'm a big fan.”

  He smiled crookedly. “I can see why you'd want to avoid vampires at the moment. It's got to be overkill when you're living with one.”

  “You may take my blood but you're too scientific to be a vampire,” she said lightly.

  “Am I?”

  She looked hurriedly away from him. “You'd know if you ever read Rice. Lestat is definitely not scientific. He's a very complex vampire with––”

  The phone rang and she automatically tensed. She picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Kaldak. I need to talk to Kaldak.”

  Not Esteban. She tried to mask her relief with a shrug as she handed Kaldak the phone. “I vaguely recall a time when I actually got normal telephone calls. I think it's Ed Katz. Talk about vampires . . .”

  She stood up and wandered over to the window. The shadow gargoyle seemed smaller tonight. She wondered what it looked like just before the streetlights went off in the morning. Maybe she should set her alarm and see.

  “I have to take a sample.”

  She turned to see Kaldak hanging up the phone. “Why? You sent one off this morning.”

  “The closer to a breakthrough he gets, the greedier he gets.”

  “And how close is he getting?”

  “It's hard to tell. In developing any antidote, it's usually one step forward, two steps back.”

  “He sounded excited.”

  “Well, he thinks maybe he took a step and a half forward on the last test.” He paused. “You don't have to do it. I can wait until morning.”

  She shrugged. “Give it to him.” She sat down at the dining room table and rolled up her left sleeve. “It doesn't matter.”

  “It matters.” He took the kit out of the desk drawer. “Do you think I'd put you through this if it didn't matter to a lot of people.”

  “I didn't mean––” She gave it up. “Just take the sample and let me go to bed, Kaldak.”

  “That's what I'm doing.”

  She always hated to watch the blood enter the tube, so she fastened her gaze on his dark head. The muscles at the sides of his neck were rigid as he carefully inserted the needle.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked in a low voice.

  “You never hurt me.”

  “Yes, I do.” His gaze never left the needle. “But maybe not this time.” He took out the needle and put it on the table. “I'm sorry. It's over now.”

  “Why are you apologizing? It's no big deal. I gave more at the last Red Cross blood drive.”

  “But I wasn't the one who took it.” He held her arm while he applied pressure, then dabbed at the tiny drop of blood at the puncture site. “I don't like to––” He stopped, staring down at her arm.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Yes,” he said thickly. “Something's wrong.” He slowly lifted her arm and pressed his lips to the wound.

  She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. She wasn't supposed to feel this lust. But it was there.

  Crazy. Not now. Not with Kaldak. Never with Kaldak.

  He lifted his head and looked at her. “That's what's wrong.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Yes.” His lips slid down her forearm to the veins of her wrist. A wave of heat moved through her. “I want it. I've wanted it for a long time. Sometimes just the smell of you makes me hard.” He pressed his lips to her palm. “I know I'm no sex object, but you won't be disappointed. Ugly men have to know more. I can make you––”

  “Stop it,” she whispered. “I can't––Emily.”

  “Would Emily want you to stop living? Would you love her less because you went to bed with me?”

  “Of course I wouldn't.”

  “And you want it.”

  God, yes, she wanted it. She wanted him. He was scarcely touching her and her body was responding. “It would . . . interfere.”

  “It's already interfering. It can't get much worse. I can't––” He stopped, his gaze on her face. “No?” He slowly released her arm. “You're sure?”

  She wasn't sure about anything. She was confused and uncertain and . . . aroused. Oh, yes, definitely aroused.

  He stood up and picked up the needle and kit. “Don't worry, I'm not going to push,” he said jerkily. “I want to. You don't know how much. But I won't. I've already taken too much from you.” He moved toward the kitchen. “I'll get this sample ready for Ed.”

  She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. She wanted him. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted him inside her. Christ, she hadn't felt like this since those first heady weeks with Matt. No, she couldn't compare Matt to Kaldak. She couldn't compare anyone to Kaldak.

  “I told you not to worry about it.”

  She opened her eyes to see Kaldak standing by the front door with the familiar sample package in his hand. “If you don't want me, you don't want me, but don't feel guilty. This has nothing to do with what happened to Emily. Sex has a way of ambushing us while we're in the middle of a crisis. It probably has something to do with preservation of the species.” He opened the front door. “I'm going to go downstairs and give this to Agent Peterson to ship tonight. You go on to bed.”

  Don't feel guilty.

  Go on to bed.

  He was always telling her what to do, dammit. He always thought he knew best. From the very beginning he had tried to guide her down the path he wanted her to go.

  Except tonight. He'd backed away. He'd given her a choice.

  The lights were out when Kaldak came back into the apartment twenty minutes later.

  Bess had gone to bed.

  Or maybe she was just hiding out in her room, trying to pretend what had happened between them didn't happen, trying to pretend that he didn't exist.

  He was a fool. He knew all about discipline. He had learned it in the hardest school. Why hadn't he used it tonight? Why had he put her on the spot? It was the wrong time. Not that any time would be right. Not for him. Not for them. Too much had happened that––

  “Are you going to stand there all night, Kaldak?” Bess called out. “For God's sake, come to bed.”

  He went rigid. He slowly turned toward her bedroom. “Bess?”

  “Who do you think it is? There are only two of us in the apartment.” She paused, and when she spoke again her voice was unsteady. “And one of us is scared to death about this.”

  He moved toward the door, his heart pounding like thunder.

  “Two of us, Bess,” he whispered. “Two of us.”

  New Orleans was suiting Marco extremely well. The crowded streets, always convenient to his profession, reminded him of Rome.

  The man was right ahead of
him. Gray suit, no tie, balding head.

  Marco dodged a drunken couple coming out of a bar. His pace quickened. He couldn't lose this quarry. Esteban was upset, but this should pacify the bastard.

  The man in the gray suit was heading down Bourbon toward Canal Street. His car was probably parked in one of the lots on Canal.

  Marco cut down to Royal, then ran at full speed before doubling back to Bourbon.

  He was breathing heavily as he stepped into the alley.

  He waited.

  A woman in a short skirt and leopard-patterned high heels passed the alley.

  He waited.

  Gray suit, bald head.

  There.

  The pencil-slim blade of his knife cut through the gray suit straight to the heart even as he dragged the man into the alley.

  “Kaldak.”

  He moved closer, his mouth closing over her nipple. “What?”

  “I want my camera.”

  He raised his head. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Will you get me my camera?”

  “I will not. I'm otherwise occupied.”

  “I want to take your picture.”

  “Later.” He suddenly chuckled. “Though I'm sure you discovered something stunning about me that you want to commemorate.”

  “Braggart.” She had found out something stunning about him. Sex with Kaldak was glorious fun. After the first intense, passionate release he had become almost playful. It had been totally unexpected. “I want to take a picture of the vainest man I know.”

  “And the best lover.”

  “I don't remember.” She gasped as he reached between them and massaged her. “Well, close.”

  “The best?”

  “I don't know if I should pander to your van––”

  She couldn't talk anymore. Her climax was mounting.

  “Pander to me, Bess,” he whispered. “I need it. I need you.”

  She nestled closer, staring dreamily into the darkness. She felt small and fragile curled up next to Kaldak's big, muscular frame. Strange that she didn't resent it. It felt . . . cozy, nice. “What time is it?”

  Kaldak looked at the luminous dial of the clock on the nightstand. “Four thirty-five.” He brushed a kiss on her temple. “Why? Do you have another appointment?”

  “Don't be so flip. It's not as if I'm not a busy woman. You're just lucky you happened to catch me between jobs.”

  “Hallelujah. That's the only lucky thing that's happened to me lately.”

  A little of her contentment ebbed away as memory intruded. No, there hadn't been good luck in her life lately either.

  “Shh, don't think about it.” He drew her closer. “This moment is damn magnificent. To hell with––”

  “What's your name, Kaldak?”

  “What?”

  “Well, Kaldak couldn't be your real name. Esteban would probably have recognized it from Nakoa. I think every woman who sleeps with a man should know his real name.”

  “How conservative of you.”

  “Is it Deuteronomy? Rumpelstiltskin?”

  “It's David.”

  “David what?”

  “Gardiner.”

  “David Gardiner.” She shook her head. “It will take some getting used to.”

  “Don't get used to it. I told you, he doesn't exist anymore.”

  “Haven't you ever been tempted to resurrect him? I'd think that you'd––”

  The phone on the bedside table rang.

  She stiffened.

  He reached over and picked up the receiver. “Hello.” Then he sighed, sat up, and turned on the light. “For God's sake, Ed, this better be good news. Do you know what time it is?”

  Ed Katz? The man had to be a fanatic. Bess sat up and leaned against the headboard.

  “What do you mean? I sent it. It should have reached you by one at the latest. . . . How do I know? . . . Okay, okay, I'll call Ramsey.” Kaldak hung up. “Ed didn't get the sample. We may have to take another one. I'll check with Ramsey to see what the holdup is.”

  “Great.” She made a face as she got out of bed and reached for her robe. “Just what I need to crown the evening. I'll go get a snack.”

  Kaldak came into the kitchen a couple of minutes later.

  “Well, do I have to shed more blood, or did they find the––” She broke off when she registered the look on his face. “What's wrong?”

  “Ramsey didn't know anything about the sample. Peterson never notified him. As far as he knew, Peterson was still on guard outside the apartment. They're looking for him now.”

  She swallowed. “Maybe it's just some small mistake.”

  “Maybe.”

  “But you don't think so.” She hesitated. “I don't understand. It doesn't––”

  She jumped when the digital phone in Kaldak's hand rang.

  Kaldak punched a button and identified himself. He hung up a few moments later. “They found Peterson in an alley five blocks from here. He's dead.”

  She stared at him in bewilderment. “Dead?”

  “A stiletto in the back. No sample on him.”

  A stiletto. “De Salmo?”

  Kaldak nodded.

  “But it doesn't make sense. Why would he kill over the sample? He must know we'd just take another one.”

  “Maybe De Salmo thought a delay would please Esteban.”

  And she had been the one who had insisted that all CDC calls come in on her regular phone. Peterson might be alive still if De Salmo hadn't been able to monitor her phone.

  “Stop it,” Kaldak told her roughly. “Peterson was an agent. Risk goes with the job. And his death might not have had anything to do with the call. It could be that Esteban just wanted to give you another scare.”

  “Then why take the sample?” She crossed her arms over her chest to keep them from trembling. “It was my fault, dammit.”

  “Okay, it was your fault. But not because of anything you did. It's because of the immunity factor. Esteban and De Salmo are getting desperate because, for once, time may be on our side.”

  “Maybe. Katz isn't sure. You're not sure.”

  “Pull yourself together. You'll need it. Ramsey's on his way over.”

  “Why?”

  “To hit you at your weakest point. He knows he can't budge me, so he'll try to persuade you to change your mind about staying here.”

  “I won't change my mind.” She felt a sudden rush of anger. Not only were De Salmo and Esteban trying to kill her, but Ramsey was coming to bully her. “Ramsey can just do his job and catch the bastard.”

  He smiled. “You tell him that.”

  “I will.” She sat down at the table and pushed up the sleeve of her robe. “Now, get that damn kit and take another sample.”

  “It was sheer stupidity,” Esteban said coldly. “Did you think such a small delay was going to help me? It's the woman I need dead. You're a grave disappointment to me, Marco.”

  “It will be accomplished, but when I heard how close––”

  “You heard what they wanted you to hear. Do you think Kaldak would permit such carelessness?”

  “He's always with her. It's going to take more time than I––”

  “I don't have time.” Esteban tried to control his anger. “Do you hear me? I don't have time. That's what this is all about.”

  “A few more days.”

  In a few more days, that Katz at the CDC might come up with the antidote, Esteban thought with frustration. And then his entire plan would go down the tubes.

  Think.

  There had to be a way.

  Yael arrived at the apartment before Ramsey got there.

  “She's all right?” he asked Kaldak.

  “I'm fine,” Bess called from across the room. “Does everybody in the world think I'm going to fall apart because of this?”

  “Well, Ramsey's hoping,” Yael answered. “I got the impression he wouldn't mind losing Peterson if it would push you into his camp.”

  “That can't be t
rue,” she said, repulsed. “What kind of man is he? Is that the type the CIA produces?”

  “Don't blame the organization for Ramsey,” Kaldak said. “He's an ambitious man with his back against the wall. A strike by Esteban could ruin his political ambitions.”

  “And forget the people who could die.” Bess stood up and moved toward the bedroom. If she was going to do battle with Ramsey, she didn't want the disadvantage of a bathrobe and mussed hair. “I'm going to shower and get dressed. Call me when Ramsey gets here.”

  It was only a little before six, she realized as she walked into the bathroom. It seemed impossible that merely an hour and a half earlier she had been lying in bed with Kaldak. Yet the evidence of intimacy was still there: the rumpled covers, the impression of their heads on the pillows.

  Not only sex, but intimacy, she thought as she stepped into the shower. The fact was shocking. What would have happened if she hadn't been so abruptly jarred out of that crazy euphoria? It was probably for the best. He had proved to be a great lover, but she was too vulnerable just then. She couldn't handle a relationship with a man as complicated and tormented as Kaldak.

  Not when she was tormented by the same demons.

  “Ms. Grady.”

  Jesus, Ramsey was knocking on her bathroom door.

  “I'm sorry. But I'm limited for time and I need to talk to you.”

  She turned off the shower. “I'll be out in a minute. I hope you won't mind if I dry off first.”

  “I know it's an inconvenience.” A pause. “I'll wait in the living room.”

  She was surprised he hadn't invaded the bathroom and jerked her out of the shower. The more she came in contact with Ramsey, the more he annoyed her.

  She ran a hand through her damp hair as she strode into the living room a few minutes later.

  “Sorry,” Kaldak said. “Short of breaking his neck, I couldn't keep him from trying to hurry you.”

  Breaking his neck wouldn't have been such a bad idea. “Did you give him the new sample?”

  Kaldak nodded. “But he's not satisfied with the milk, he wants the cow.”

  “What a way with words,” Yael murmured. “You don't resemble a cow in the slightest, Bess. Well, maybe your name. Wasn't there a commercial with Bessie the cow or some such––”