Cunningham, Pat - Legacy [Sequel to Belonging] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Pat Cunningham

  Her colliding emotions galvanized her off the couch, out of the apartment, and down the stairwell. She slowed to a stealthy creep as she neared the open door at the bottom. Jeremy’s voice reached her clearly from the parking lot, roughened by concern.

  “…close call. You got him?”

  “Hell yeah. I think you’re standing in him. Shit. He splattered on my shirt. This’ll be a bitch to get out.”

  That voice. Coarse as gravel, reeking of testosterone. This voice rang in her ears, not her head, and sent a whole different set of shivers racing down her spine.

  That had to be Wallace. Jeremy’s lover. With her own feelings for Jeremy knotting her gut, she wasn’t sure she was ready to face the man who’d already won his heart. Frozen by indecision, she remained inside the doorway.

  “Did you get a chance to question him?” Jeremy said.

  “’Fraid not. Things happened pretty quick. He wasn’t the talkative type anyway.” Wallace made a gagging noise. “Now I’ve got this awful taste in my mouth. Jesus. Who the hell did he have for dinner?”

  She heard censure in Jeremy’s voice. “You didn’t.”

  “I did. I’m not turning down a free meal. Wish I could’ve saved some for later. I hate it when they won’t hold still.”

  “As long as you didn’t take too much. After last time—”

  “C’mon, Scarecrow. You know I know better.” A seductive purr sent his tone lower still and shivered a thrill down her back. “Why? You hoping for a little action?”

  Jeremy’s answering laugh held the same throaty purr. “You’re unbelievable.”

  Both voices stopped. The sounds that took their place made Colleen feel guilty for standing there like some Peeping Tina. If she wasn’t going to reveal herself, she should at least go back to the apartment and give them privacy. She inched back up the stairs.

  Wallace’s voice halted her. “The chick okay?”

  “Her name’s Colleen. She’s pretty shaken up. I should get back to her.”

  “No need. She’s right there by the door. C’mon out here, sweetheart. Let’s have a look at you.”

  Come out? Where the oily voice and its owner waited? But he didn’t wait out there anymore, did he?

  It hit her like a sudden blow, what Wallace must have done, why she was hearing his voice and not that other now. She scrambled up the steps.

  Wallace’s callous laughter pursued her. “Nice meeting you.”

  Colleen burst into the living room and reached the couch before it occurred to her to shut the door. Too late. Jeremy had already scaled the stairs. He shut the door himself with a gentle click. “Don’t mind him. He’s not really as big of a jerk as he acts sometimes. Do you want to meet him? I’ll stand between the two of you if you think it’ll help.”

  She shook her head violently. Her earlier panic had returned for a new and different reason. Jeremy crossed to the couch and knelt before her. She flinched away from him.

  He frowned. “What is it? Not more voices?”

  “That man outside,” she said. “The stalker. Wallace killed him, didn’t he?”

  Jeremy’s friendly face shut down. “You’re safe now. He won’t bother you again.”

  “He did. He just murdered somebody.”

  His eyes refused to lie to her, as badly she wanted them to. “It’s what he does. It’s the only way to stop that man’s kind. He would have done worse than kill you. I can guarantee he’s killed others. I’m not happy either, but it was him or you.” Jeremy climbed to his feet. “We’re going to stick around for the rest of the night, just to play it safe. Wallace can stay outside if it’ll make you feel better.”

  Colleen didn’t anticipate feeling better any time in the next century. She knew beyond certainty Jeremy would never hurt her. The one downstairs, however, was a whole other horror story.

  “He didn’t have to kill him,” she muttered. “Just hold him for the cops, or scare him off or something.” She bounded up. “I’m calling the police.”

  Jeremy caught her arm. “Don’t bother.”

  “Don’t bother? There’s a body out there!”

  “No, there isn’t. It’s been taken care of.”

  She gaped at him. Already? That was quick. Quick and efficient. Jeremy had never said straight-out what Wallace did for a living. What had she gotten herself tangled up in?

  She opened her mouth to demand a straight answer and noticed something she hadn’t before. Her heart seized up.

  “Blood,” she blurted.

  “What? Where?”

  “Your face. There’s blood.” She tapped a shaking finger on her lips. “Here.”

  “Oh.” He cleaned his mouth with a casual swipe from the backs of his fingers. “Gone?”

  She nodded numbly. “Why are you with him?”

  He looked surprised she’d even ask. “I love him.” He released her arm. “Go back to bed. Try to get some rest. It’ll all look better in the morning.”

  Sure it would. Just spend the rest of the night with a killer downstairs and the killer’s boyfriend in here with her. She mumbled a curt good-night and hurried to her bedroom. After locking the door, she dove into bed and buried herself under the covers, to no avail. No mere pile of sheets and blankets was going to change the facts. Jeremy was gay, he was common-law married to a murderer, and Colleen was dead certain she was falling in love with him.

  Chapter 4

  The smell of fresh coffee dragged Colleen up out of a fitful sleep. She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily against the dazzle of sunlight pounding at the blinds. Never a morning person on the best of days, she clung to the sheets for a few minutes longer while sleep ebbed and her brain reestablished coherent thought patterns. It chose to begin with recollections of the night before. Stalkers, hot forbidden men, a sarcastic, sexy growl of a voice, and murder. What a way to start the day.

  Perhaps she could just hide in bed for the rest of, well, forever. Jeremy would have to leave sometime, and he’d take Wallace with him. Then she could get back to her nice, normal life, the one that didn’t have killers and nutcases and really cute married men in it.

  Finally, however, duty and Colleen’s caffeine craving propelled her out of bed. She couldn’t abandon Norelle and the children just because she’d had a bad night. She snorted. Change that qualifier to “horrendous.” Sooner or later, she’d have to deal with it, and Wallace’s actions, and Jeremy.

  She hand-brushed hair away from her face, too scared to peek at her reflection in her dresser mirror. I must look like crap, she thought. I hope I don’t scare the kids.

  She cracked the bedroom door and poked her head out. Jeremy stood at the stove. By the enticing odors that drifted over, he’d found her waffle mix and her last egg. Fresh-rinsed plates and full glasses of orange juice already sat on the table.

  He appeared to be alone. Thank God for small favors.

  The creak of a floorboard betrayed her. Jeremy turned with a welcoming smile. Apparently he’d had no trouble sleeping after the night’s excitement.

  “Good morning,” he said cheerfully, just like it was a normal day and his lover hadn’t murdered somebody. “Sleep okay?”

  “Eventually.” Warily, she crossed to the kitchen and sat at the table. The orange juice beckoned. She drained the glass like knocking back whiskey. “I think I got in twenty minutes.”

  “Here. This’ll help take the edge off.” He set a mug before her and poured coffee into it. His arm brushed hers. She couldn’t help flinching.

  His cheeriness faded. His face and his voice became neutral. “I’ll have breakfast ready in a second,” he said.

  “Thank you.” Colleen spooned in more sugar than she normally took and gulped the hot, black brew. It braced her enough to ask, “Will Wallace be joining us?”

  “He went home over an hour ago.” Jeremy opened the blinds. Sunlight streamed into the kitchen. Colleen’s eyes stung for a few seconds before they adjusted again. “No one else showed up. You should be safe now.”
<
br />   Safe, right. From stalkers, maybe. What had they done with the body?

  Jeremy dished a waffle and her solitary egg onto her plate. While she picked at it he fixed himself waffles and coffee. “What time do you have to be at work? Or aren’t you going in?”

  “Of course I’m going in.” She glanced at the clock on the stove and groaned. Seven-thirty. “I should be there at eight-thirty, but if I call, they’ll let me come in at nine.”

  “Call, then. I don’t go in until ten. I want to follow you to work. Make sure you get there okay.”

  “I thought you said it was safe.”

  “It is, but why take chances?”

  Good question. How many chances was she taking by letting him stay? She took a bite of her egg and got a tasty surprise. The man could cook. Jeremy Teach was full of surprises. Some, she feared, were definitely unpleasant. Her heart pounded with longing and misgivings. Why couldn’t he be someone else?

  Jeremy brought his own plate to the table and pulled up a chair. Colleen didn’t speak. She assumed he was eating. She could barely hear him, and she refused to look. Only when his fingers touched her wrist did she dart her gaze up to meet his. “You’re still upset over last night, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe a little. Having people kill stalkers right on my doorstep really bums me out.”

  He grinned. “Gus was right. You do sound like Wallace.” She bristled, and he lost the grin. “Okay. We didn’t want to scare you, but you deserve to know. That man yesterday was part of a cult. They’re sort of pseudo-Satanists. They kidnap people for their rituals, which are heavy on the blood sacrifices. One of them must have spotted you on the street and decided you’d look good on their altar. I told you it was probably random.”

  Targeted by a Satanic cult. This just got better and better. “And you know about them how?”

  He chewed slowly, stalling. Fine. She could wait him out and folded her arms on the tabletop and stared at him to prove it. Finally, after a lengthy swallow, he said, “I used to be affiliated with them.”

  “You were in a cult?”

  “Never officially. I was more like a groupie. Remember I told you I was adopted? One of their flocks—their sects adopted me. I grew up with them. I never drank blood or anything. Mom wouldn’t let me.”

  “Drank…blood? They drink blood?”

  Jeremy nodded. “It’s the basis of their rituals. They get totally hopped up on it. If you’d called the cops last night, they would have had to shoot the guy anyway. That’s how these people get. They’re like the Terminator. They don’t stop until they’re dead, or you are.”

  Colleen’s half-eaten waffle in its thick puddle of syrup suddenly looked supremely unappetizing. She pushed the plate aside. “We should call the police anyway.”

  “If you want to. It won’t help.”

  Not without a body, no. What did she have to go on? A few blurry glimpses and a voice in her head. She’d never even seen his face. The cops would love her statement. “You’re sure I was the target? Not the kids?”

  “Last night proved it was you. These people don’t normally bother with children. Adults have more blood.”

  Her own blood chilled at his matter-of-factness. He’d seemed like such a sweet, normal person. “You’re not still…?”

  Jeremy smiled faintly. “No. I’ve left them. I’m with Wallace now. He’s a special agent. He’s been fighting them for years. What he did last night was necessary. You can complicate it with the police if you want, but I wouldn’t bother.”

  He eyed her abandoned plate with such longing Colleen finally shoved it over to him. He polished off her waffles while she sat and brooded. Along with “gay” and “married” she could now add “nutcase” and “dangerous” to her list of reasons to stay away from him. She’d dumped guys before for far less than that. If only he weren’t so…so…

  He caught her watching him and flashed that bright-as-lightning grin at her. Colleen smiled back. Inside she groaned. If only he weren’t so him.

  After breakfast Jeremy shooed her off to shower while he took care of cleanup. The shower helped immensely. When she emerged from the bathroom, freshly scrubbed with her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and light makeup applied, she felt almost normal again.

  She couldn’t help staring at Jeremy. He’d been up half the night and slept on the couch in his clothes. He’d rinsed his face in the kitchen sink and combed his hair with his fingers. He looked so gorgeous Colleen could barely stop herself from dashing into his arms. Even her new knowledge of his cultist background left no dent in her desire. She stifled yet another groan. Life just wasn’t fair.

  “You sure you want to go in?” Jeremy said.

  “I already called them. They’re expecting me.” The plan called for Colleen to drive to work and Jeremy to follow. If neither spotted anything wrong at the school, he’d leave, probably for good. The thought sent a pang spearing through her. Never to see those eyes again. He might be taken, he might be a wacko who slept with a killer, but she’d never wanted any man more in her life.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she said.

  “I want to. Do you have your cell? Let me give you my number and Wallace’s. If anything happens, if you see anybody or hear any voices, you call us. Or tell Annie. She’ll know what to do.”

  Colleen wasn’t sure what a semiretired pediatrician could do about a blood-drinking cult, but let it pass. She programmed in the numbers Jeremy recited. A gay cultist just gave me his number. Norelle would twit her for weeks.

  “How about you?” she asked. “Will you be okay?”

  “Sure. I’ve just got time to get home and grab a shower. I’ve only got a half-day shift today, so…uh…”

  They’d started the conversation at opposite sides of the room. They’d moved toward each other without even realizing and now stood less than a foot apart. Colleen stared up at him. She wasn’t especially tall, but his lips weren’t all that far away. If she got up on tiptoe and he bent a little, it would be so easy.

  He bent. She lifted up on her toes. His mouth was just as sweet as she’d imagined. His tongue teased her lips until they opened then boldly plunged inside. She melted into his embrace and granted him leave to explore at his leisure. Last night, all talk of cults, and common sense receded into her brain’s irrelevancy pile. For this one moment, nothing mattered but him.

  He wanted her. She felt it through her psychic prickle as well as through his jeans. She wanted him right back. Colleen knew the exact moment the knowledge hit them both. Guilt quashed his desire like a dash of ice water. He broke the kiss and let her go. The anguish in his eyes broke her heart.

  “I’m sorry,” she said at once. “I–I just wanted to say thank you. That’s all.”

  Jeremy wasted no time grabbing at the excuse. Relief relaxed his stance and brought a wan smile to his face. “Sure. You’re welcome. Ah…we’d better get you to work.”

  Colleen drove her car to the preschool, and Jeremy followed in his. She waited, hands throttling the wheel, while he surveyed the area. Only at his signal did she get out. He watched from his car until she reached the door then waved to her and drove off.

  And that was that. A week of rollercoaster craziness, and now it was all supposed to just snap back to normal. Colleen took several deep breaths to compose herself before she entered the building. The children mustn’t know.

  “Hey, Col.” Norelle bustled up with a smirk in full bloom. “Was that your gay buddy I just saw you outside with? I thought you gave up on him.”

  “Everything’s fine. He came over last night, and we hashed it all out.”

  “And you’re only a half hour late? Wait a minute. He’s the married one, right?”

  “Nothing happened. His husband was there.”

  “Hold that thought. We’ve got a toast-and-jelly crisis in the lunch room. You’re going to give me a detailed play-by-play as soon as that’s resolved. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Colleen said and forced a smil
e. The second Norelle turned away Colleen shot a glance out the window. The mailbox stood alone on its corner in the streaming sunlight. Satisfied, she followed Norelle.

  * * * *

  A week went by with uneventful tedium, without any heads-up from Mr. Psychic Prickle, and with very little Jeremy in it. He stopped by twice to pick up Shayla and, she suspected, to check up on her. Though it wrenched at her heart to do so, she held herself aloof. The need to touch him, hold him, kiss him nearly overwhelmed her whenever she saw him. She’d managed to put the stalker incident behind her. Why not him, too?

  It’s over. Stop thinking about him, Colleen ordered herself.

  He had a life with his stalker-killing partner, and she needed to get back to her own. To persist in obsessing about him would only prolong her agony.

  Easier said than done. Jeremy kept bursting into her thoughts at the worst possible times. A storm cloud would billow at the edge of the sky and remind her of his eyes. She’d catch a whiff of Norelle’s spiced coffee in the lunchroom and think of him. Shayla would run shrieking across the playground, and Colleen would remember how Jeremy had swept her up with that broad, loving smile.

  Oddly, during all these flashes, she never heard Jeremy’s voice. She kept hearing the other one’s deep, rough tones. Special Agent Wallace, the murderer.

  Norelle’s hand waved in front of her eyes. “Hey. Horny girl. You got a thing going with the construction paper now?”

  Colleen started and nearly dropped the rainbow-colored sheets she held. Cripes, how long had she been zoned out in front of the supply closet? “Sorry. My mind wandered.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet. Why don’t you just end the suspense, Col? Bang the guy, and get it over with.”

  “I can’t. He’s married. We all got together last week and talked it out. I told you that already.”

  “So why does he keep turning up here? He’s gotta be interested.”

  “It isn’t like that. We’re friends, kind of. Can we drop this?”

  “I will if you will, and it doesn’t look like you want to. You look like you got it bad.” Norelle studied her thoughtfully. “What you need is a serious girls’ night out. I’ll get hold of Heidi and Suzette and we’ll go out and burn down the town. Heidi’s on one of her health kicks again, so she can be designated driver.”