by L Ann
Zuron, characteristically, was not so easily swayed. “Clean up? Loose ends?”
“The Rromas.” Taz shrugged. “They were just turnblood muscle, barely out of their tweens. The last one was turned only forty years ago. They were told to get the recording and destroy it, period. I doubt they even knew what was on it.”
“You took care of it, I assume?” Zuron asked, still waiting to hear Taz had messed up.
“Bullet to the brain,” Taz answered. “Kayla – well, I’m sure she didn’t see enough to matter. As far as she knew they were assaulted and held hostage by a couple of garden variety thugs looking for their fifteen minutes of fame. I reinforced that supposition in her mind and added the suggestion that the guy she’d been waiting for was a scam artist who tried selling her a doctored video recording. She’ll wake up believing she dozed off after viewing the bogus tape and go about her normal everyday business.” Taz paused then to grin. “As for our wannabe Spielberg, he’s downstairs. Pantera has got him under guard in her office.”
Zuron choked on a gulp of brandy, sloshing a hefty portion down the front of his smoking jacket.
“You wanted an alternative solution to blazing guns and body counts,” Taz continued before Zuron could speak. “His name is Malcolm Salman. He wants to be the next Quentin Tarantino. I offered him a deal; a trade. He keeps his mouth shut forever about what he saw, under threat of death and we pay him a ridiculously large amount of money – a bribe; a grant. Whatever you want to call it.”
“It’s different, I have to admit.” Hamish laughed, rising to make his way to the house phone. “I’ll have security make him comfortable until we can get to him.”
Zuron nodded acknowledgement, still dabbing at the front of his smoking jacket with a handkerchief.
“And unless you have something else for me,” Taz slid off the bar stool, turning toward the door. “It’s been a long day.”
Zuron’s cleared throat stopped him with his hand on the doorknob. “I want to… you did…” the elder vampire paused and glanced at Hamish. “Please relay my compliments to Morganna on a job well done.”
Taz’s emerging smile slipped, and he nodded. “Yeah, I will.”
~*~
Taz let himself back into his suite, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. Meetings with his father were always stressful – lately more than ever – even when the report he had to give was positive. He was considering whether to pour himself a drink when the flickering light from the TV caught his attention, followed by the spill of dark hair he could see at one end of the couch. He eased the door shut, locked it behind him, then kicked off his shoes and padded further into the room. Halfway across the room he paused and turned to the wet bar, opting for the drink and then forced himself to look at the woman whose scent had been weaving around him since he entered the suite. The glass stilled halfway to his mouth.
She lay stretched out on the sofa, one arm curled beneath her head, her legs bare apart from a pair of shorts that started at mid-thigh and curved along the shape of her hips, the vest she wore clung just as lovingly to her breasts and his eyes hovered as he remembered the taste and feel of her. He dragged his eyes away from her chest and back up to her face. Her lips were parted, relaxed in sleep and her eyes closed, thick lashes resting against her cheek. In sleep, she looked innocent, untouched – nothing like the reality of the woman who lived her life on the edge of violence.
He drew in a sharp breath and finished the movement needed to bring the glass to his lips, drained it and set it back on the wet bar, his eyes drifting back to her. He wanted her, he would admit that to himself, biting back a laugh at the sudden hardening of his body which would serve as an admission to anyone, had they been watching. She wanted him, too. He knew it, and it wasn’t his own self-confidence saying that. He’d tasted it in the kiss they’d shared earlier.
No, he told himself; she was a complication he could do without. She was Hamish’s daughter, for a start, and that alone could get him killed even without listing all the other reasons. But walking past her and into his bedroom was harder than he liked and he was half undressed before he realised he’d returned to the doorway between the two rooms.
He should at least wake her and tell her to go to bed, he thought. He’d fallen asleep on that couch a time or two himself and he knew how uncomfortable it was to wake up on. Shower first, he told himself, and if she was still there when he was done, he’d put her to bed. Happy with that decision, he finished undressing and entered the bathroom.
He turned the shower down to a cooler setting than the one Morgan must have used, but stayed under the spray only long enough to wash and then stepped out, dried and wrapped a towel around his waist. Morgan was still sleeping when he glanced through the door and it was with almost an air of resignation he approached her.
Taz crouched down beside her and reached out to touch her shoulder, meaning to shake her awake. Instead, his fingers smoothed over the soft curve of her shoulder and down her arm, feeling toned muscle beneath his touch. He hooked a finger under the material of her strap, dragged it down and leant forward, inhaling her scent.
What was it that was so intoxicating? He wanted to wrap himself in her scent, coat every inch of his skin in it. She murmured sleepily, frowned and shifted position as he trailed his fingers across her collarbone, almost uncovering the tip of one breast.
“A gentleman would walk away,” Taz muttered to himself, even as his fingers dipped into the valley between her breasts, tugging the vest down further and releasing her breasts to his gaze. His thumb brushed across one nipple already hardening into a peak, and raised his eyes at the choked gasp from Morgan.
“What are you doing?”
Taz didn’t stop his teasing of her breast, tugging, rolling and pinching the tip with thumb and forefinger. “I would think that’s obvious,” he told her and, holding her gaze with his, he bent his head and replaced his hand with his tongue and teeth.
Morgan sucked in another breath. “I don’t –“
“Don’t lie to me and say you don’t want this,” Taz lifted his mouth to interrupt her. “Not when your body tells me otherwise.” His free hand slid beneath her shorts and stroked her, exploring the wet heat he discovered.
“I’Ane,” she began, her breath catching in her throat. “Taz…”
“I don’t want to hear it.” His voice sounded harsh to his own ears, but he wanted her so badly he was struggling to stay in control. Taz shifted his position, and raised himself up to settle above her, one leg sliding between hers until his thigh pushed against the hand he had cupped against the centre of her.
His mouth found hers and he kissed her once, hard, then sucked in a breath when her teeth sank into his bottom lip. “Tell me you want me,” he whispered against her mouth, as he pushed two fingers inside her.
“I—“ Taz added a third finger, making Morgan arch up against him with a hoarse cry.
“Tell me,” he repeated, nibbling along her jaw, her throat and down to her breasts while his fingers slid in and out of her until she was almost crazy with desire and need.
“Taz.” His name fell from her lips like a plea.
“Do you want this? Do you want me?”
“Yes! God, yes!” Taz yanked down her shorts and plunged into her before she finished speaking.
Chapter 4
Taz’s cell phone had rung four times before the noise of it penetrated through Morgan’s sleep. She rolled over with a mumbled curse, groped across the bedside table, knocking off the lamp before her fingers encountered the phone itself. Not thinking about the fact it wasn’t her phone, she connected the call.
“This better be good,” she groused, voice thick with sleep.
A long, somewhat started silence followed, causing Morgan to clear her throat and speak again. “I will hang up on the count of three. One…”
“Morganna?” Hamish queried. “Why are you answering Taz’s phone?”
Morgan’s eye flew open, all traces of sleep
gone. “I must have picked up the wrong one. We… uh… we have the same model.” She winced at the excuse and hoped her father bought it.
“Right, I… see.” Hamish sounded amused.
She felt Taz move beside her and his hand came to rest on her hip as he slid closer to press a kiss to the nape of her neck.
“So, you… ah… want Taz then?” Morgan asked. “I’ll go see if he’s awake.” She elbowed Taz in the ribs when his hand wandered further upwards and he laughed.
“He sounds awake to me, Morganna,” Hamish said dryly.
Morgan didn’t reply, thrusting the phone at a grinning Taz. “It’s for you.”
“What are you doing with my daughter, Taz?” Hamish was asking as Taz put the phone to his ear.
“Uh… nothing, sir,” Taz raised his eyebrows at Morgan.
“You got to your phone fast.”
“I… I heard it ringing, arrived just as Morgan answered it.” He caught Morgan’s hand and winked at her when she scowled.
“I see.” There was a long pause. “We have watched the footage you recovered last night. You and Morganna need to see it. Be here within the hour.” The older man hung up.
“We’ve been summoned.” Taz tossed the phone over his shoulder, laid back and pulled Morgan on top of him with the hand he still held, muzzling her throat. “We’ve got time. At least an hour.”
Morgan shook her head, arching away from him. “He said within the hour. That means we have enough time to shower, dress, grab a coffee and get moving.” Taz ignored her attempts to slide across the bed, his hands anchoring her in place across his hips. “Stop it, there’s no time for this,” she added, a little breathlessly, as he eased inside her.
Taz wrapped an arm around her waist, rolled and continued to thrust, and dipped his head to brush her lips with his. “It’d be a shame to stop now… don’t you think?”
~*~
Morgan leant her forehead against the cool tiles of the shower, trying to calm the frenzied beat of her heart. If someone had told her that one day she would meet someone who could drive her body to the peaks of pleasure she’d experienced, she’d have scoffed. But Taz and his expert fingers, and mouth, and… she sucked in a much-needed breath and cut off that train of thought, reaching for the shower switch with a shaking hand. The blast of icy water was the shock her body needed, and she forced herself to stay under the icy jet until her heartbeat slowed and the heat faded from her body. Only then did she change the setting and wash – she ached and was tender in places she hadn’t realised it was possible to be sore in.
A tap on the door made her already tense body stiffer. “Are you okay?” Taz called.
“Go away.” She supposed she should be flattered that he had bothered to ask or even notice she’d fled from the bed and from him as soon as their bodies had parted.
She watched as he tried the door handle. “Look… Anna… let me in.”
“My name is not Anna.”
“It’s what you told me your name was in Vegas. I like it.” She could hear the grin in his voice and it annoyed her.
“Leave me alone, I’Ane,” she snapped.
“You don’t have a gun handy, so I’m safe for the moment,” he replied, and paused before adding, “Okay, hurry up in there. I need to clean up before we go.”
When she exited the bathroom via the guest bedroom a few minutes later, she locked the door behind her and pulled on underwear, jeans and a tee-shirt. She slipped her feet into a pair of Doc Martins, picked up her SIG, checked the clip and tucked it into her belt before stalking out into the sitting room and breathed a sigh of relief when she found it empty.
With quick steps, she reached the main door of the suite and opened it, fumbling in her hurry to get out before Taz reappeared, shut it gently behind her and headed along the corridor to the elevators which would take her to the penthouse where Zuron lived.
Tax exited the suite fifteen minutes later, whistling. Unaware of it until, near the end of the hallway, he caught the reaction of one of the housekeeping personnel (a long-time employee who knew him relatively well) and stopped. Further along the corridor, he realised he was bouncing, strutting like a highschool kid on the way to see his girlfriend… Jesus, I’Ane get a hold of yourself!
Too late, Taz, another voice immediately kicked in. Whatever hold you might have had slipped away down in your bedroom like a handful of greased ball bearings. There’s a word for it. One you might have heard a time or two… Hooked!
“Probably,” he whispered, rounding a corner to enter the elevator alcove. But on what, he wondered. Her… or the sex?
~*~
Morgan was bending at the large table that was the focus of one room in the penthouse suite, reading through the report of a job she had had to leave when she was summoned to Seattle when Taz arrived. She heard the main doors open and the maid greet him in a breathy voice, giving him directions to go straight into the conference room and her lip curled in disdain, even while her body tensed.
“What are you reading?” his voice was close to her ear as he came to a stop beside her, resting a palm on the small of her back.
“Updates,” she replied, as she stepped sideways away from his touch. “Can we get on with this now he’s arrived?” she appealed to her father, who stood watching them both from the head of the table, his expression unreadable.
“The controller for the television and the player is on the table. Watch it…closely, then come back into the sitting room and we’ll talk.” Hamish nodded to Taz as he passed, closing the door behind him.
It was Morgan who acted first, moving down the long conference table to take possession of the controller. Taz got there a mere second before her, however, scooping up the sleek remote control with a taunting grin.
“Before we start,” he held the controller out of her reach.
“Dammit, I’Ane, we’re here for business!” Morgan snapped.
“You’re angry,” he went on, ignoring her protest. “No, you’re pissed at me. And that is confusing. Especially after all the fun we’ve had.”
“We haven’t had any fun, now play the damn footage,” she replied sharply, resisting the urge to draw her pistol.
“Oh, we haven’t?” Taz’s grin became a fully-fledged smile. “I did. I’m sure of that. And maybe my ears were playing tricks on me, but what was all those ‘Oh Taz… oh yes, yes! Right there… don’t stop, oh please don’t stop, Taz!’ comments?”
Morgan’s growl came only a nano-second before the blur of her hand as she reached into the waist of her jeans. Taz followed suit and an instant later both stood with guns levelled on one-another.
“Woo! You’re fast, Anna,” Taz chuckled, his eyes focused on hers. “And I’m flattered. Knowing what makes you want to shoot the men you get close to. I’m just not in the mood for pain at the moment.”
“How about death? You in the mood for that?”
“Not particularly,” Taz shrugged, then gave her a curious look. “You’d kill me over a few orgasms?”
After a minute passed, and she hadn’t pulled the SIG’s trigger, Taz spoke again. “You won’t kill me. If, for no other reason than you’d have a tough time justifying it to our fathers. So, let’s go back to our truce and finish this later. Deal?”
“Only if you stop talking about –“ she paused and looked toward the door. “About what happened.”
“Killjoy,” Taz quipped, then lowered his Beretta. “You got a deal.”
Morgan nodded and lowered her own weapon to the table before pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Let’s see what’s bothering the old men.”
The first minute of the recording was little more than the photographer, Malcolm, breathing while his camcorder panned a slight knoll leading down into the park. The lighting wasn’t particularly good and you couldn’t see much until…
“Hold on… lemme get to where the light’s better,” said the off-camera voice of Malcolm Salman.
The image jogged and jumped as he mo
ved and finally stopped at the top of the knoll, overlooking a children’s play area.
Then the girl came into view. Her exact age couldn’t be determined from the distance at which she was being photographed, but she was medium height, big boned, with curly blonde hair. She wore a sleeveless denim jacket, tight leopard print pants and slip-on pumps. An outfit that left no doubt as to her reason for being in that area at that time of night.
As she approached the play area, a little girl appeared. She looked to be around eight years old, also blonde, wearing a bright yellow t-shirt, bib-front coveralls and blue sneakers. The two approached each other, obviously in conversation. When they were no more than two feet apart, there was a blur of motion and a second kid appeared, behind the older blonde.
“Holy fuck! Jesus, he… they’re beating her to death!” Malcolm uttered tremulously.
Following the third bone-cracking strike, the boy tossed the bat aside and raised both arms in a beckoning gesture. The play area filled up with other children. All close to the same age. All of whom revealed their true natures.
They fell on the down and battered woman like a pack of ravening animals, ripping her apart as they feasted on her blood. And, as they fed, another figure arrived. This one was an adult, dressed in a dark suit and long coat with a fur collar.
“Switch it off,” Morgan’s voice was tense.
“You got it,” Taz responded, tapping the controller’s On/Off switch. “What the… what was that?”
“Child vampires. Turnbloods.” Rising to her feet, she moved to the door and opened it. “You could have said something before we viewed it,” she said to the two men waiting beyond.
Both elders entered the conference room and closed the door before replying.
“We wanted you to get the full effect,” said Zuron. “You needed to see how crucial the situation is.”
“Well, it worked,” Taz said, swallowing to hold back the bile that rose in his throat. “That was downright obscene. Not to mention it’s put me off eating, probably for the next week.”
