Laura smiled at Jake and brushed against him as she passed. “That sweater is the perfect color for you,” she said as her fingers, tipped in burgundy talons, skimmed his chest.
So obvious. Abby sighed. Gideon brought women like Laura around all the time but it hadn’t taken her long to realize it wasn’t because they were his type. It was because he wanted to get Jake’s attention. It was as if Gideon were offering the endless stream of overwrought, underdressed females to Jake like lures, hoping he would bite.
To Jake’s credit, he never did. After a month or so, each woman in Gideon’s endless processional wandered off to be replaced by another of similar build and temperament. It made no sense. Then again, very little about Gideon Price made sense to Abby.
“Did you enjoy dinner?” Jake asked when Abby finally drew next to him.
“Wonderful as always. Can I talk to you for a second?”
He seemed startled by her request. She resisted rolling her eyes. Jake should know by now that he couldn’t hide anything from her.
“Sure. Let me get everyone settled in the game room.”
He was through the door before Abby could say another word. Whatever Gideon had told him had unsettled him, and she didn’t like to see Jake unsettled. It scared her. He was her anchor, the steadying influence in her life when it threatened to spin out of control. She needed him calm and centered so he could be the refuge of sanity in her often surreal existence.
A gentle tap on her shoulder halted her at the threshold of the dining room. She dragged her eyes away from Jake’s retreating back and swung them to meet Gideon’s stare. His eyes were hazel, mostly brown with green and gold flecks. It always amazed Abby how they seemed to change color based on his capricious moods. Right now they were earthy and hooded. She could have sworn the gold flecks had turned coppery in the cozy glow of the chandelier that hung over the dining room table.
His mouth curved in a deceptively sensuous half-grin and he looked upward. “Mistletoe.”
What was Jake thinking? Abby asked herself even as a strange, unwelcome tingle raced up her spine.
Gideon’s eyes held her and for a moment she actually felt trapped in their depths. How did he do that? How could he make her knees weak with a glance when she spent so many sleepless hours thinking about Jake?
A brittle thrill clenched the muscles in Abby’s jaw when Gideon’s hand came up and slid under her hair. He angled his face toward her and before she could explain to herself why she wanted him to, he kissed her.
He tasted of champagne and the sweet citrus compote Martin had served with the turkey. His mouth was warm. Abby didn’t know why that surprised her. His fingers on her skin were like firebrands.
Powerless to stop him, she let him in for just a moment. With her eyes closed and her back pressed against the door jam, she let herself float for a minute in the pure sensation as his tongue caressed hers.
The thud of her heart brought her back to reality.
“Gideon--” She broke the kiss with a gasp that was far too breathless for her liking. It would have killed her if he found out just how much it affected her. Would it kill him, she wondered, to know how much she wished it had been Jake?
His hand dropped to his side and he regarded her through thick, dark lashes. She kept her eyes on his lips, reluctant to meet his gaze.
“Why don’t you let me drive you home tonight?” His voice was low and there was the sweetest hint of the Louisiana accent he tried so hard to hide.
Abby locked her hands on the door jam behind her to still their trembling. “I have my car.”
“It’s supposed to snow hard. You shouldn’t be alone--on the road.” There was something about the way he emphasized the word “hard” that made her insides liquefy. Where had this come from? Gideon had kept a respectful distance for three years. He’d never hit on her before. Had he? Had she missed the subtle clues to his true feelings?
“I’ll be fine. I’m not going to stay late.”
He nodded. His sardonic grin returned. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
Gideon walked away and Abby sagged a little. A sudden burst of laughter from the game room startled her heart into another flurry of staccato beats.
What the hell was that? she asked herself. It bothered her that she could still taste him. The ache in her nipples and her belly bothered her even more.
“Abby?”
“Jake--” What if he’d seen Gideon kiss her?
“You wanted to talk?” His big brown eyes were wide and guileless. Abby settled her gaze on the sexy stubble that darkened his chin.
“I was concerned. You’ve seemed preoccupied since Gideon arrived. Is something wrong?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “You can see right through me, can’t you?”
Abby waited a beat and Jake nodded. “I’m a little distracted. Gideon brought some bad news about a business associate of ours.”
“Oh?”
“He ... died. He’d been ill for a while and his heart ... gave out.”
“Oh.” It was more than that. Jake’s eyes couldn’t lie.
“Are you all right? You seem a little preoccupied yourself,” he said. Abby willed herself not to glance at the sprig of green leaves and white berries suspended above their heads. She moved out of the doorway as casually as possible.
“I was worried about you. Let’s go have dessert. If I don’t get a piece of Martin’s chocolate cheese cake, I’ll end up on Santa’s naughty list.”
“I can pull a few strings and get you to the head of the line.” Jake winked at her and Abby relaxed just a little. Whatever Jake was hiding, apparently wasn’t as bad as she’d imagined.
* * * *
Abby felt an insistent tingle in the area of her right hip and reached down into the pocket of her slacks to retrieve her beeper.
Not tonight, she sighed to herself. Not so soon after the last one. With all of Jake’s guests gone and Gideon almost out the door, she’d begun to consider the possibility of staying the night.
The thought of spending the next twelve hours alone with Jake made her heart flutter a little. Maybe the wine helped, too.
She’d ducked into the first floor powder room after bidding goodnight to the Carter’s and George Goffing. A splash of cool water on her face and a dash of fresh lipstick made her look and feel a little calmer. It hadn’t assuaged the butterflies in her stomach or the aching pull in her core that had begun when Jake seated himself on the couch in the game room and casually threw his arm over her shoulder. Gideon had smiled at them, as if he approved.
He’d seen Laura out shortly after that, admonishing her to drive carefully and call his cell phone as soon as she got home.
Abby slid the beeper out of her pocket and looked at the LCD, though she didn’t need to. There were only three people with the number: Jake; her assistant, Eleanor; and her client.
As she expected, there was no phone number on the display, just a cryptic set of letters. NW RX
New prescription.
Her contact had strange terminology for everything. He called the jobs he had for her “prescriptions” and when she completed her assignment, she’d send back a text message to his beeper that read: RX FLD
Prescription filled.
Why tonight? Abby jammed the beeper back into her pocket and leaned on the bathroom’s black marble counter. She could ignore the page. The client would be furious with her, but she would have one night with Jake.
And it would be the last. The last time she’d ignored a page, she’d ended up living in the park. Her tiny apartment had been suddenly and inexplicably condemned. Her car was stolen and stripped. Even the police had been shocked by that--dusty old Plymouth Horizons were never stolen for parts. Her bank account wouldn’t accept her PIN number for a week and when it did, the balance was zero. The grocery store had cut up her credit card.
She’d had to beg for another assignment to get back in his good graces. She’d have starved if Jake hadn’t t
racked her down the day after she’d left him to the police officer in the park. He’d bought her first meal in two days and, despite her best efforts to resist, she’d fallen in love with him. He was her white knight.
She had a lot more to lose now than she had then.
But now she also had Jake. The client couldn’t take him away from her, could he? She shook her head. That wasn’t a chance she wanted to take. She dragged in a breath of bayberry-scented air and reached for the doorknob. Her night with Jake would have to wait, for now.
Chapter Three
Her lips were warm and yielding and her body molded perfectly to his despite the thick coats they wore.
Jake looked into Abby’s eyes and the regret he saw there made him want to scoop her up and carry her back into the house.
He’d been so close to asking her to stay the night. He wanted her so badly it made his teeth itch. Not to mention what it did to other body parts.
He broke the goodnight kiss and cool air rushed over his lips, evaporating the flavor of her. “Can’t Eleanor take care of the alarm?” Jake hated to sound like he was begging, but he was.
Abby blinked snowflakes from her lashes and smiled up at him. “It’s Christmas Eve, Jake. She’s got little kids. Besides, the store is on my way home. I just have to go set the alarm. I can’t believe I forgot it again. It must be a mental block or something.”
“Let me come with you.”
She shook her head. There was that hint of sadness again. Obviously she didn’t want to leave any more than he wanted her to, so why was she insisting?
Tonight they finally seemed to have broken through the wall they’d built between them, the one that formally separated their friendship from anything deeper. They were finally getting somewhere, and the damned burglar alarm at Treasure Trove ruined it.
“I really need to go, Jake. It’s all right. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She stamped the gathering snow off her boots and turned toward her car. Exhaust billowed up in the frigid air forming a fog that rolled down the driveway. Huge wet flakes swirled through the headlight beams that illuminated the interior of Jake’s spacious garage.
He opened the driver’s side door for her. “How about you come by for breakfast, say 9:30?”
“Why don’t you come to my place, and I’ll cook?” Her offer was tantalizing. Alone at her place, alone at his, it didn’t matter where they were as long as they were. He’d put this off too long.
“I’ll be there.”
“Goodnight, Jake.” She brushed her lips against his jaw and he caught her and held her for a moment. Three years of moments like this flashed through his mind. They’d come so close so many times. He was tired of almost. Why couldn’t he just tell her he wanted more than this? “Merry Christmas,” she said as she slipped from his embrace.
She slid into the car seat and moments later the little Toyota rolled down the drive, its tires crunching the snow flat, red taillights disappearing in the blue night.
Tomorrow he would tell her, he decided as he turned and stomped back into the garage, dislodging snow from his shoulders like a white shroud. He’d tell her everything and pray she would understand. Would she still want him if she knew the truth? It was a chance he had to take.
* * * *
When Abby arrived home forty minutes later she found the white envelope lying just inside her door, separate from the pile of mail that had been stuffed through the slot. It sat alone and aloof, as though it were better or more important than the mundane envelopes that enclosed her cable bill, a few Christmas cards and useless advertisements.
In every way, it was more important.
Abby dropped her purse into the chair next to the door and shrugged off her coat before retrieving it.
She hated that her fingers shook. Why tonight?
The envelope wasn’t sealed. The back flap was merely tucked inside. The stiff, heavy bond paper crackled as she opened it. No cheap recycled envelopes like those sold in boxes of a hundred at the supermarket. Her client spared no expense. He could afford it. And a man with his kind of power didn’t care about money anyway. She suspected he didn’t even need it to get what he wanted. She’d learned that firsthand.
One clean white sheet of paper came out of the envelope folded in thirds. The name, typed in block letters dead center of the page, was the name of the target--the virus--as her client liked to say. He thought of them as an illness and Abby was the cure.
She opened the paper and froze.
The cold started in her fingertips and raced toward her heart as she reread the name on the page. Twelve crisp, black letters spelled out the name of the man--no, the creature--she had been hired to kill.
This couldn’t be right, it just couldn’t.
She swayed, caught the kitchen counter for support and stared unblinkingly into the sink for a full minute. The sudden nausea passed but the cold, black void in her gut remained. I can’t do this anymore.
And if she didn’t ... if she disobeyed, the next name printed on a clean white paper would be hers. The prescription would rest in someone else’s hands, someone who killed humans, not vampires.
The client had been very clear about what would happen the next time she declined an assignment.
She sank into a chair at the kitchen table and reached shakily for the cordless. She had to start over twice before she dialed the whole number correctly.
Her heart felt like a clenched fist in her chest and her lungs were full of lead. The phone rang twice before he answered.
“Merry Christmas, Abby. I trust you enjoyed your evening.”
“This is a mistake.” Her voice cracked. “You’re playing with me.”
“I don’t play games, Abby. You know that.” Despite the metallic voice modifier he used, she heard the amusement in his tone. He did indeed play games, but this wasn’t one of them.
“It can’t be right. Do you have proof?”
“You’ve never asked for proof before.”
“I can’t do this anymore.” She covered her mouth to stifle a sob. Icy fingers danced over her spine, and it seemed as if the darkness was closing in around her. She flipped the kitchen switch with a violent movement and the fluorescent lights came on. Their bright, bluish glow didn’t dispel any of the blackness that crept at the corners of her vision.
“The price for this one is double our usual contract. This is a new strain of the virus, dangerous and unpredictable. I expected you might have some personal obstacles to overcome but I know you’re strong enough to come through for me, Abby. Aren’t you?”
“I can’t do it tonight.” Abby almost dropped the phone. Her hands shook so violently that she had to clamp them both on the receiver to keep it next to her ear. She’d made a mistake in calling him, hoping she could reason with him. She’d tipped her hand. He’d expect her to fail now and he’d make her pay for it.
By tomorrow her world would be in ruins once again, if he wanted it that way. He would eventually have her killed but he’d make her look forward to it first. He’d make her want to die.
“I realize tomorrow is a holiday.” The bastard actually laughed. “So I’ll give you some extra time. Take the day off and relax ... but I’ll need this prescription filled within forty-eight hours.”
“Right. Of course.” Abby steeled herself, calmed her voice. She’d never been so cold in her life, even the nights she’d slept in the park.
“Good girl. I trust you to do this, Abby. You know I trust you, don’t you?”
“Yes. But are you sure--”
He hung up before she finished her question. He knows, her inner voice screamed. He knows I won’t do it.
She set the phone down and stared at the paper until her vision blurred. The letters ran together into a fuzzy mass but the name didn’t change. Even through her tears, Abby was able to read it.
JAKE BEAUMONT
Chapter Four
The snow let up just before dawn but the clouds didn’t break. There would be more snow through
out the day, so predicted the 5:00 a.m. weather report. Normally that would have pleased Jake.
He loved snow and the dark, overcast days of winter. He always had, even as a child, but now he’d begun to crave the longer nights, and the weaker sunlight of the winter months.
He’d been staring at the gray sky for hours, waiting. Half a bottle of scotch sat beside him. He’d just poured another two fingers worth into his glass when her car pulled into the driveway.
The headlights were off. The engine cut off and the car coasted to a stop. Everything was still for a moment as the engine cooled and the last lonely flurries melted on the hood. Jake wondered what Abby was waiting for.
When the car door opened he moved away from the window and sat on the bottom stair next to lowest row of poinsettias. With his gaze leveled at the door, he downed the scotch and wished to hell he could still feel the burn like he had when the bottle was full.
He was there, empty glass in hand, when she let herself in with the key he’d insisted on giving her. He’d fantasized about her using it one night ... surprising him while he lay in bed dreaming about her. The fantasies had been nothing like this.
The alarm was already off. He’d shut it down as soon as he’d opened the waterproof plastic envelope that Martin had found on the back patio after the party. He’d been expecting her all that time and he had to wonder why it took her six hours to come back to kill him.
* * * *
The heavy front door clicked shut and Abby rested her head against the richly carved oak for a second. She should leave. She had no right to be here now, but she had to warn him, then get as far away from him as possible.
She sensed him before she turned around. His cologne scented the air that still held the faint essence of their sumptuous dinner. Her breath stilled.
“Jake.” His name came out as a dry whisper. His face was stone cold and his eyes were so hard they hurt.
Bonfire of the Vampires Page 3
