by Tina Moss
“Having trouble sleeping?” He tried to keep his tone even, a failing battle as stabbings of arousal clashed with his suspicions of her. An overwhelming urge to slap a pair of handcuffs over her delicate wrists nagged him. What he’d do after, he didn’t know.
“Sort of. I’m tired, but it’s like my mind won’t turn off. You know?” She tucked a strand of glossy hair behind her ear. “I keep replaying everything over in my head.”
“And do you come up with anything different?” He rose, forcing her to step back and into the aisle.
“No. Not really. Just a jumble of stuff. Same as I told you.” She bit her bottom lip. The simple gesture made her lips brighten to a brilliant red.
He groaned and waved his hand toward the front. “Well, go lay down on one of the couches. Might be more comfortable.” The suggestion came off more like a command, a gruff dismissal.
“Um, yeah, sure. I’ll give it a try.” Her shoulders sagged as she made her way up the row.
“Damn it all.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. A wave of pain washed over him. The idea he’d hurt her, even slightly, made his stomach clench. “What the hell is wrong with me?” He hissed, trying to get a grip. You hardly know this girl and she could be a suspect for the love of…Hell. He shook his head and peered over the seats in front of him. Sera slumped onto one of the couches, her face in her hands. She pulled the blanket up to her chin.
He dropped into the seat, letting the leather take the brunt of his weight. Digging out his cell once more, he flicked through the list to find Meg’s info. Once, twice, three times it rang, then switched to voicemail.
“Hi. You’ve reached the all-knowing genius of the digitized speedways. If you’d like to leave a message, even though they’re a way antiquated form of communication, wait for the beep. Beeep.”
Snorting into the line, Talon said, “Meg. I need intel on our witness and I need it yesterday. Did her father send us the recommendation for sure? If so, why? And the full details on her past. What happened exactly? Unseal everything in her record and route it to me.” He cleared his throat. “I’m counting on you.”
The call ended with another obnoxious beep and the line went dead. Talon stretched and yawned. He couldn’t remember how long it’d been since he last slept, but he knew no rest would come until he had that file.
Soft snores filled the space. He walked toward the sound to discover Sera stretched along the couch. The two-seater fit her upper body while her legs sprawled over the armrest. Her forehead scrunched together to form worry lines. Her head shook side to side and her breathing became uneven. She muttered something unintelligible. His gut tightened in response to her fitful sleep. He bent beside her and smoothed her hair away from her cheeks. The contact singed his fingertips, but he didn’t pull away. His body craved her heat, the burn. He studied her face, searching for an answer. “Who are you Sera?”
The plane jerked in response. Veering sharply to the right, it knocked Talon onto his ass and sent Sera tumbling into his arms. The pilot came over the intercom. “Sorry folks. Looks like we hit some turbulence. Going to be in a bit of a rough patch for a couple of minutes here. Better buckle up.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Talon cocooned her against his chest, careful not to startle her.
“Wha-what the heck?” Her body seared his chest as if she’d just come off some crazy adrenaline rush and the energy flared out of her.
“It’s all right. We’ve run into a storm or something. Captain says it’ll be fine. Just bumpy for a time.” He lifted her to the couch and strapped a buckle around her waist. She still expelled that burning force. He sat next to her, fastening his own belt and taking her hand. Tingles ran through their joined hands until he couldn’t tell whether the energy buzzed from his shifter side or her unknown power. “I’ll stay with you. Try to go back to sleep.”
“Thanks,” she whispered and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“No problem.” Her breath tickled his neck. His pulse quickened. He battled his lust, desperate to push her onto the small couch and lose himself in her warmth. Her hand absently stroked his collarbone, until the storm passed and the plane eased onto a smoother jet stream. When her gentle snores returned, he sighed. No way would he interrupt her much needed sleep. Relaxing into the pillow, he tried to find the same blissful reprieve. The leather against his jean-clad thighs, her hair on his shoulder, her hand resting in his lap, mocked his efforts. He cracked his neck, tossing his head back to stare at the ivory ceiling. His eyelids grew heavy as his thoughts flitted over the case and the woman at his side. Answers eluded him and as the night gave way to a gray morning, he said to the empty sky, “What now?”
Chapter Thirteen
PCD Field Office, Phoenix, Arizona
“This is some total B.S.” Jame’s feet burned a wicked path across the office floor. Her combat boots, buckled at the ankle and mid-calf, stomped the ground like a horse about to explode into a gallop. She spun on the ball of her foot, the rubber soles screeching over the industrial tile. “I’m surrounded by frat boys. Incompetent, moronic, frat boys!”
“Ah hem.” Bull cleared his throat. His tree trunk legs stretched over his desk ending in his well-worn tan cowboy boots. His hands sat steepled on his hard stomach.
Jame swatted at him. “’Cept for you, Bull. You know that.” Her pacing continued.
“Girlie, sit down. You’re hoppin’ about worse than a cricket in springtime.” He rose from his seat to wheel a chair toward her. “Now, sit ya self down.”
She remained standing, hands on her hips. “You don’t understand. Talon’s got it bad for this Sera chick. If she end up being a Norman Bates type psycho, he’s gonna flip.” She flopped a hand down to her side. “And what if he doesn’t bring her in? Huh?”
“Now, you’re talking plum crazy. The boss is a straight shooter.” He huffed and sat down again, boots back up on the desk. “He ain’t gonna let a pretty lady turn his head and forget his duties. Dontcha worry.”
“Yeah, fat chance of that happening, right?” Curling her toes inside her boots, she kicked over a small tin trashcan. A low buzz simmered in her veins. Talon’s never looked at you that way. Never even hinted at it and suddenly he goes AWOL over some leggy bimbo. She shook her head, chastising herself for letting her thoughts stray in his direction. No more high school drama. Plenty of hotties out there. Screw him. Her eyes wandered to the garbage littering the floor, bunches of papers and a half-eaten banana. She left it to rot and strode for the exit. “I’m taking a walk.”
Bull mumbled a “Yessum” as she closed the door with a crash.
Her temper flared, the simmer growing to a boil. She tried to tramp down the shifting urge by counting. She made it to twenty-four before a muddled conversation broke her concentration. She pressed her ear to the steel door. The space beyond functioned as both holding cell and interrogation room, depending on the team’s needs. Considering the field office’s three rooms were smaller than Jame’s apartment—and that was saying something—the areas each worked for multiple purposes.
Jame cursed as Slick’s threats invaded her ears. His low hissing voice grated on her last nerve. She gripped the metal handle using her last bit of willpower to crack the lock instead of smashing it. The door flew open. It seemed a minor loss since she really wanted to shift into a jaguar, tear down the door and rip into Slick’s throat.
“Tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing here.” Jame lunged at her teammate, catching him around the waist. She flung him into the nearest wall and got in his face. “Tell me I didn’t hear you putting a rundown on Drake from the hallway. Tell me you are not doing my job.”
Slick rose, a purposeful slowness to his movements. He flung a quick glance at Drake, then focused on her. “Let’s talk about this elsewhere, huh?”
“He’s not going anywhere.” She rallied on Drake, a steel edge to her words. “Are you Drake?”
“And miss this show?” The vampire laughed. “I wouldn’t dream
of it, luv.”
“Good. I’ll deal with you in a minute.” Her eyes burned feral. She could feel her irises change color as the shifter in her begged to be appeased. “Now, answer me, Slick. Were you or were you not doing exactly what I told you not to do?”
“I was trying to get some intel from him.” He stood up taller, his sinewy muscles dancing under the room’s bright lights. “You said you didn’t want local boys involved and I agree. But he knows something he’s not saying.”
Her hands twisted. The bones snapped and claws extended. “I said no one questions him, but me. That includes you. And I’m pretty damn sure you understood me.” The energy licking along her knuckles exploded in a myriad of pain. She bit back a cry and retracted the claws. “Get out.” Pointing toward the door, she broke a sweat. “Get out, Slick, before this becomes something neither of us want.”
“All right. No problem.” He took two steps to the exit, watching her under half hooded eyes. “I’m sorry, Jame. I didn’t mean to step on your toes. He’s all yours. Just shout if you need me.”
Her blood stirred, itching for a fight. “Out. Now.”
“Right.” He dashed for the door without another word and closed it behind him.
“One. Two.” She battled to bring her breathing under control. With calmness she didn’t feel, she faced Drake, sifted the tangles from her ponytail, and stared him down. “So how do you want to do this?”
“Oh Kitty, I’d have you anyway I can get you.” He smiled a set of devastatingly white teeth, fangs poking from his gums. His spiky hair stood up in all directions. The yellow tips contrasted starkly with the dark roots. His black eyes stared at her with hunger in their depths.
“I’m not in the mood for games, Drake. As you can clearly tell.” Jame breathed deeply. Her hands still shook from the two quick shifts and her body felt altogether too hot. She fanned her face with one hand. “How about you just give me the full story and save us time?”
“But then you’d leave and I would no longer have the pleasure of your company.” He sat in a metal chair on the far side of the room. A heavy desk lay between them. Thick chains surrounded his wrists and ankles, winding around the chair’s legs. All the furniture in the room was bolted into the cement floor with three-foot spikes. Not the easiest to break out of, but not impossible.
“So you want my company?” Jame jumped atop the desk hard enough to shake it. She knelt to stare into the vampire’s black eyes. Her breath caressed his face. “You got it, so start talking.”
A hungry rumble vibrated from Drake’s throat. The sensual sound caused her insides to warm. She leaned closer, curious by her body’s reaction. His natural scent, rich like red wine, filled her nose. The thin fabric of his silk shirt hid an expanse of lean muscle. When he smiled again, exposing two long fangs, she snapped out of her stupor. “Don’t even think about it bloodsucker.”
Her feet skid over the desk’s slick surface as she scrambled away. Caught off guard by the heat between them, she lost her footing. Her arm scraped along the edge of the desk, an attempt to regain her balance. It failed. As she fell flat on her back, Drake shot from his seat and grabbed for her. He caught her head and shoulders in his arms a second before her skull could make impact with the desk’s unforgiving steel top.
“Easy now. I’d never hurt you, Jame.” Helping her to sit up, he cradled her body closer and pulled her to the edge of the desk. “Are you unharmed?”
An electric current ran through her blood, the source emanating from Drake’s strong yet surprisingly tender touch. She struggled to think. Her arm ached. She held it up to the light. A bright red streak ran from her wrist to elbow. He stood before her and captured her forearm in a light grip. Keeping his black eyes locked on hers, he used his tongue to trace the path of the injury. Her blood glistened on his lips as he sealed the wound. He moaned when the heavenly taste slid down his throat, flames glowing in the depths of his gaze.
She blinked once, twice. Her brain refused to process the desire racing in her veins from his provocative healing method. Her voice sounded weak in her ears as she said, “Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure, Kitty.” He sat on the metal chair once more. His chains clanked as they scraped across the cement. He kept his dark gaze fixed on her. The slight glow hinted at hidden pleasures. “Now, I think you were going to question me. No doubt using your wiles to extract information.” He smirked, brushing a hand at her. “Please continue. I’ve been so looking forward to it.”
Ewww! Jame resisted the urge to bang her feet against the desk. The curses flitted through her mind too fast to choose one. She was supposed to be using her charms on him, not the other way around. No way could she lose the upper hand to this cocky vampire. A cool smile played on her lips. “I’ll bet you have.”
“Ah that’s my girl. Good comeback.” He stretched his legs so his feet rested under the desk. Black jeans offset the crimson silk covering his chest. Tiny buttons trailed from his collarbone down to his waist. A black leather belt stretched around his chiseled abdomen. If it wasn’t for his spiky blonde hair, he could have graced the front cover of a Gothic GQ.
She swallowed, unsettled by this sudden attraction. She’d resolved to put Talon behind her, but fawning over a vampire—especially one as arrogant as Drake—did not fit into her new plan. She needed to fight this. “Tell me about Strife.”
“Jealous, are we?” His eyes seared into her as if stripping away every layer.
“Maybe. What does she mean to you?” She batted her eyelashes, feeling back in the game.
He winked at her. “Excellent.” Leaning forward with a conspiratorial regard, he placed two manacled hands on either side of her thighs. “She’s an old friend. No one for you to worry about, Kitty. I’m all yours.”
“An old friend, huh?” She bent at the waist so he’d either be staring straight at her breasts or he’d have to look up into her face. To his credit, he tilted his chin and met her eyes.
“Yes.” His deep gaze held gold in its depths. “Just a friend.”
She fought the compulsion to inch closer and studied her unpolished nails as a distraction. “And does this friend have anything to do with the code black?”
“Yes and no, luv. Depends how you look at it.” His hands gripped the table, the muscles in his forearms straining.
“And how should I be looking at it, Drake?” She rested her hands atop his shoulders, caressing the smooth silk under her fingertips.
He murmured his approval at her touch. “We have an interesting mix of characters here, do we not?” He swept a finger across her lips, an undemanding gesture, but it set a match to her desires. “No, Kitty. No need to answer. I know you agree. Talon has his misguided, black and white notions of right and wrong. Bull contends with the misery of his vampiric nature by hiding under a Texan cowboy persona. The half-breed—”
“You mean Slick?” She purred, tightening her grip on his shoulders.
“Yes, him. He is but a boy trying to play a man’s game. And then, there’s you, luv. So young, so desirable. And consistently overlooked by the fools around you.” He rose to his feet, towering over her. His knuckles brushed her cheek as he reached behind her to pull the tie from her hair. Unbound the black and platinum streaks fell in waves past her shoulders. With soothing strokes, his fingers sifted through her hair. His chains rattled with every pass.
“Hmm.” She centered on keeping her cool, as if the sparks flying from his touch were no big deal. “And...” Her breathing fell erratic when he moved closer. She clamped her legs shut forcing him to stand to her right side. “What does this all have to do with Strife?”
He glanced at her locked knees and smirked. Wrapping his arms around the chains, he jerked them forward. The iron gave way, a good eight inches, allowing him to sit on the desk next to her. “The PCD is an eclectic group as I’ve demonstrated. The same is true of Veritas.” He rubbed his chin. “The two organizations have much in common.”
“Ok.” Jame scoo
ted to the left, trying to put some space between them. “And Strife?”
“Strife is to Veritas, like Talon is to the PCD. She is a leader in this part of the world.” He cocked his leg on the desk, closing some of the distance between them. “Both are bent on justice. Veritas is not the enemy you think it. But I know who is.”
“Do you?” She pushed wisps of hair behind her ears. “And who’s that?”
“Phage,” he whispered the word like a curse. His jaw clenched. The veins of his forehead pulsed in a deep blue rhythm. His eyes looked beyond the here and now to something unknown.
Jame’s heart leapt at the sight. She’d never suspected Drake was capable of such hate. Sure he fought with Slick almost daily, and yeah, he’d taken down baddies in the heat of a fight, and okay, the whole vampire thing, but this? “Hey, Drake. Come back. Wherever you are now, just come back.” She massaged his calf with no response. She tried slapping his face, gentle then harder, but still he didn’t come out of the fog. Sighing, she tried the one no fail tactic she could think of to rile a vampire, she bit his neck.
The taste of him awakened deeper desires within her. Her senses begged to shift, break the surface of his skin, and pull his blood into her mouth. She shot backward, shaking at her reaction.
He reached forward, grabbing her by the wrist and locking her in place. His dark stare flashed with crimson red. He pulled her against the hard planes of his chest. His arms clamped around her back, his chains cooling her skin. Two fangs extended forth and inched toward her neck.
“Drake, stop it,” she cried halfheartedly. The need to let him sink his teeth deep inside overwhelmed her. This unbidden lust spiked her fears more than the vampire about to take a bite out of her.
As the cry to stop left her lips, he snapped away from her. She stumbled at his swift movement, but readjusted herself on the desk. He rose, facing the far wall and breathing heavily.
“Drake?” A tremor passed through her as the air between them grew frigid. “Are you all right?”
