by Nancy Holder
Contents
Cover
Also by Nancy Holder
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
About the Author
Coming Soon from Titan Books
COMING SOON FROM TITAN BOOKS
Beauty & the Beast: Some Gave All by Nancy Holder
BEAUTY & THE BEAST: VENDETTA
Print edition ISBN: 9781783292196
E-book edition ISBN: 9781783292240
Published by Titan Books
A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd
144 Southwark St, London SE1 0UP
First edition: November 2014
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
Copyright © & TM 2014 CBS Studios Inc.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
TITANBOOKS.COM
From the moment we met, we knew our lives would never be the same. He saved my life, and she saved mine. We are destined, but we know it won’t be easy. Even though we have every reason to stay apart, we’ll risk it all to be together.
CHAPTER ONE
“Tess, I remembered the name of the ‘intimate lingerie’ shop,” Cat said into her cell as she walked down the hall of her building. Her keys were in her hand and triumph wafted around her like sweet perfume. “Easy Pickin’s.”
“Bleah. More like sleazy pickin’s,” Tess said on the other end of the phone. Her voice was barely audible through the background din. Tess was still celebrating at Rosie’s with the rest of the 125th precinct, where she and Cat were detectives, first grade, Special Crimes. Nobody could celebrate like the 125th, especially when a case they had cleared came back from the jury with an ironclad conviction for murder one, just as it had late that afternoon. The notorious Justus Zilpho had received a sentence of life in prison with no possibility of parole. A brutal murderer was off the streets of New York forever.
And we did it, Cat thought happily. Tess and I. They had been the lead detectives on the case.
“We can check it out first thing tomorrow,” Cat said. “I’ll stop by Il Cantuccio for the coffees and you—”
“Down, girl. Pretty sure intimate lingerie shops aren’t open for business by the dawn’s early light. Tonight let’s enjoy the afterglow from putting away Zilpho. It’s like the old days, Cat. Vargas and Chandler are back.”
“We really are.” Cat smiled. “You made this conviction happen by developing that CI.”
“No, you made it happen when you traced Zilpho’s getaway car to the wrecking yard. Best partner ever.” Tess sighed happily.
“We are both awesome.” Cat did a quick visual scan of the hallway. No lurkers, no strangers. Good. “Captain Ward wants us to be careful,” she reminded Tess. “Zilpho swore revenge.”
Tess grunted. “Yeah, right. Guys like him talk big until they put on the orange jumpsuit. Then it’s tears and prayers. Best thing Zilpho can do is become a model prisoner. Lay low and rack up privileges. Double servings of Jell-O become a very big deal when you’re rotting your life away in jail. Oh, hey, Captain Ward is buying another round!”
“Go. Enjoy,” Cat urged her.
“On it.” Tess disconnected.
Cat smiled wistfully. It was only seven-thirty at night. For a minute she wondered why she’d left the celebration at Rosie’s Bar so soon, why it had seemed important to rush home. Captain Ward had been so proud of his “girl team” that he might as well have bought them roses and tiaras. It seemed like just yesterday he’d been threatening to fire them both if they didn’t clear more cases.
Oh, wait, it had been yesterday.
Well, hopefully, those dicey days were over. She was sure she and Tess would regain their bragging rights for highest clearance rate in the city.
She put her key in the lock of her front door, emotionally preparing herself for the emptiness that awaited her on the other side. Thanks to the scheming of Gabe Lowan, the assistant district attorney and former beast who had briefly been Cat’s boyfriend, her real boyfriend, Vincent Keller, was now a fugitive again, hunted by every law enforcement agency there ever was. If she could put away Zilpho, she could figure out a way to clear Vincent’s name and bring him back into the daylight once and for all. They would have a normal life together, a future, with all the wonderful things most dating couples took for granted. Such as, well, actual dates. And he would be able to accompany her to Rosie’s with the precinct to savor the next sweet taste of victory.
Vincent was the one person she really wanted to celebrate with, but all she had with him were stolen moments that were few and far between.
Better one moment in a thousand with Vincent than a lifetime of moments without him, she reminded herself.
She opened the door and caught her breath in surprise at the beauty and splendor before her. This, clearly, was one of those magical times. In her living room, a dozen ivory candles gleamed from cut-crystal holders, their warm yellow light catching on a silver ice bucket containing a bottle of her favorite champagne. Beside the bucket sat two crystal champagne flutes and a small box of chocolates wrapped in gold foil and gold ribbon and topped with a gold mesh bow. Crossing to her coffee table, she examined the card slipped beneath the ribbon.
Congratulations. It was Vincent’s handwriting. He knew how important this conviction was to her and must have found out about the verdict.
And he is here.
Her delighted smile widened when she saw him leaning against the doorjamb to her bedroom. He was wearing a white terrycloth bathrobe, revealing his muscular legs, forearms, and bare feet. The candlelight cast angles and hollows in his chiseled, lean face, his features honed by his life as a soldier and a passionate fighter for justice.
Now, though, his face was softened by his sexy, happy smile in answer to hers. Steamy water droplets clung to his short, dark hair and his eyes blazed, not with the feral aggression of his beast side, but the passionate, human love he bore for Cat. His pleasure at seeing her thrilled her heart. It was the perfect ending to a wonderful day.
“Catherine,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice, and she unslung her purse, dropped it on the sofa, and went to him. Their arms came around each other and she felt the reflexive restraint in his muscles, always careful of her. Even though she could take down gangbangers and FBI assassins, she was still fully human, an
d far more fragile than a beast. Vincent’s beast side was stronger than the most powerful human on the face of the planet, and yet Cat never felt safer than in his embrace.
Their lips met. Rosy joy transported her to their secret place, where it was just Catherine and Vincent, and nothing could come between them. It was a world of stars and rooftops, gently falling snow, and dreams of a future where they were free to be together without fear of capture, or worse. In that world, all that mattered to her was Vincent Keller, and she knew that all that mattered to him was her, Catherine Chandler, whose life he had saved on that icy, nightmarish night a decade before.
His strong, rapid heartbeat pulsed beneath the flat of her hand as he drew her close. He could crush her.
He never would.
She shut her eyes and inhaled the clean scent of him, heard his low moan as their kiss deepened. She wondered what their lovemaking was like for Vincent, with his heightened beast senses. She was never more alive than when they were as one. Tastes were more intense. Colors were brighter. All she heard was the whisper of her name on his lips, the pull of the moon in an ocean of love, and her body singing his name in response, rushing toward him, toward their ecstasy.
Anticipating it all, her body yearned for his. She let him know how very much she wanted him. He did the same.
“You’re home earlier than I expected,” he said, when they finally managed to pull far enough apart to speak, and to gaze into each other’s eyes. “I wasn’t quite ready.”
“I’m glad you didn’t have time to dress,” she replied, with a teasing tug on the belt of his robe. “And as for being ready…”
“Oh, I am. I had no intention of putting on clothes. I just wanted to add this to the table.”
He slipped into the bedroom, then from behind his back he held out a deep, velvety-red rose. When she took the stem his thumb brushed the back of her hand as if he couldn’t stop touching her. She ran her forefinger over his warm skin. Then she kissed him again in thanks and they walked hand-in-hand to her couch.
She inhaled the heavenly fragrance. “This is so thoughtful,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I wanted tonight to be perfect. I know how much this conviction means to you,” he said. “You and Tess worked so hard to put this guy away.”
“Vincent, any time we’re together, it’s perfect.”
His eyes flared with happiness and desire. “I’m glad you think so.”
“I know so.”
He eased her down and her weary muscles melted as she curled up, head in hand, watching as he grabbed the champagne bottle and popped the cork. He was completely unaware of his masculine beauty and the grace with which he moved. But there was much more to Vincent than physicality. He was smart, and funny, and brave. Best of all, he was a good man. His beast side had nearly dragged him down to the depths of hopelessness and brutality, but Vincent had prevailed in the battle to reclaim his humanity. His soul.
Their love.
Smiling, she opened the candy box, lifted the layer of paper, and admired the delectable possibilities. Tonight, there were many delectable possibilities.
His eyes sparkled like champagne bubbles as he poured the first flute. His robe hung open, revealing his broad chest. She ached to plant soft kisses there.
He bent forward to hand her the glass, poured a second, and they clinked the rims together. He gazed into her eyes and she saw his fierce pride in her. Vincent admired her for being good at her job, and that made her want to do even better at it.
We are better together than we are apart, she thought. How many times had they said that to each other?
“To you,” he toasted.
“To justice,” she rejoined, and they sipped. This evening she and Tess had thrown back whiskey and beer, cop booze, and the sublime champagne reminded her that her life with Vincent was so different, and that so much of it was unbelievably wonderful.
He sat beside her and pulled her feet onto his lap as she popped a chocolate into his mouth. She bit into a cordial with a hazelnut center. Her shoes thunked to the floor as he began to massage her feet and she wrinkled her nose, a tad embarrassed. She had walked the mean streets of New York City today, and she felt grimy beside this immaculate man and all the luxuries he had arranged for her.
“I should take a shower,” she protested gently, even as an appreciative groan escaped her. “You are so good at that.”
“That’s not all I’m good at,” he said huskily.
Then he stood, scooped her in his arms, and she laughed, holding their champagne glasses in the air and balancing her rose and her box of chocolates in her lap as he carried her down the hall into the bathroom. She peeled off her clothes and he made short work of the bathrobe. Fragrant soap and steam washed away the day and by the time Vincent lay her on the bed, she felt like an entirely new person, still glowing from the thrill of victory. Today a jury of his peers had put away a very bad man. An evil man. The system had worked.
She had become a cop for days like this.
But for moments like these, she was simply a woman deeply in love. She reached for Vincent and he gently lowered himself down, gathering her up and giving himself to her. They moved together and she saw the bronze glow in his eyes, like embers, and then he willed the beast away.
When they were both sated, they ate chocolates and finished the champagne. She stroked his cheek and trailed her fingers down his arm. As tiredness caught up to the two, he clasped her fingers in his and snuggled her against his chest. His heartbeat was powerful, comforting.
There is a miracle in my bed tonight, she thought.
Somewhere in the distance a siren blared. A dog barked as if in answer.
Half asleep, Vincent mumbled, “Intimate lingerie shop?”
She laughed. “You heard that, did you? An informant implicated Easy Pickin’s in a money-laundering ring—don’t make jokes about it, Tess and I have run through them all.”
“Well, I know you’ll collar them.”
“Except that one.” She batted him playfully.
She told him a little bit about the case, and he listened intently even though she could tell he was weary. Then she dozed contentedly in his arms, drifting in dreams to the words of a song they had danced to together:
“You’re my guiding light.”
Vincent was so much more than that.
She felt the welcome weight of his muscular arm over her, the dip in the mattress from his body. He was there. It was so special when they could sleep side-by-side.
If only you could be here when I wake up, she thought. Every morning that I wake up.
But she would not ruin this night by wishing for things she couldn’t have. She would be grateful for what she did have. And she was unbelievably grateful.
Smiling, she surrendered to sleep.
* * *
Hours later, she rolled onto her side to admire him in the city’s light. To her surprise, the room was pitch black. She looked at the thin strip of night sky between the curtains at the window.
She frowned. She lived in Greenwich Village, a neighborhood in the city that never slept, but tonight its familiar ambient glow was replaced by an inky darkness. Something was wrong.
She eased Vincent’s arm away, pulled back the covers, and sat up.
“What is it?” Vincent asked, awake in a flash. “Your heart’s beating so fast.” He quirked a grin. “Again?”
“Something’s happened,” she said slowly.
She got up, padded to the window, and eased the drapes aside. Her city block was invisible in the dark. There were no lights on the buildings, and the streetlamps and neon signs were out.
Trap. Ambush, she thought and, by then, Vincent was on his feet, too. From the glow of his cell phone, which he lifted above his head like a flashlight, she spotted a pile of clothes on the floor—his—and started to gather them up. They reeked of smoke.
“Vincent? What happened to your clothes?” she asked, trying to figure out if their condition w
as connected to the darkness outside her building.
The curtains fluttered and she realized that he had opened the window and was already on the fire escape to the roof. Vincent’s best friend, J.T. Forbes, called Vincent’s ability to move faster than the human eye could see “blurring.” Vincent had definitely blurred. She dropped Vincent’s clothes, dressed as fast as she could and went up to the roof, too, half-expecting him to be gone. But there he was, in his bathrobe, peering from a safe distance out at the nothingness. Not a single light shone anywhere in their field of vision.
“It’s a blackout,” she said. “Power outage.”
For a moment she allowed herself to feel a wash of intense relief. It was doubtful that a manhunt for Vincent was the cause, and Justus Zilpho did not have access to the resources necessary to blot out the entire city. But then her cop senses took over: blackouts could lead to looting, and a lack of power meant that the average citizen was defenseless against street crime, which always increased when crooks could move about more freely.
“I have to call in,” she said, and hurried back down to her apartment. As she climbed through the window, she heard the trilling of her cell phone. She checked caller ID: sure enough, it was Captain Ward. A quick glance at the time said it was 1.15 in the morning.
“Chandler,” he said, “get down here. The entire borough of Manhattan has gone dark. Hold on.” Listening, she moved to her nightstand to grab her badge and her gun with her free hand. “Brooklyn, too.”
“On my way, sir.” She ended the call and moved carefully through the darkened apartment, feeling for her purse. She drew out her police-issue flashlight and dropped in her cell phone. She had a burner phone in there, too. For Vincent. They switched them every three days, which was the protocol J.T. and Vincent had established years before Cat had arrived on the scene. For a while, they had been able to stop using them and rely on normal cell phones. But now that Vincent was on the run again, such precautions were a regular fixture in their lives.
“I heard,” Vincent said. He moved to the pile of smoky clothes and began to put them on. She flicked on the flashlight and shone it at him. His jeans were scorched and there were ragged burn holes in his white T-shirt.
