by L Ann
The doctor nodded. “I don’t know the details, but yes. He hasn’t been out of Seattle for quite a few months now. Does your father know you’re here?”
Morgan sighed. “He sent me a message asking me to come home. He doesn’t know I’m here yet though. I was going to go to the hotel and call him tomorrow but after this happened –“ she tapped the bandage gently. “I thought it best to come straight here. My cell phone died on the way, so I couldn’t contact him.” Her eyes returned to the bathroom door. “It would have been much easier if I’d just rang and told him in advance.”
Dr. Chambeau chuckled. “And where does Taz fit into this story?”
“He doesn’t. Not really.” Morgan shrugged, unwilling to share the details of their weekend together in Las Vegas. “He happened to be nearby when I was debating whether to shoot the girl on reception or not.”
“All right, but there’s a story here that you’re not telling me.” The doctor smiled and handed Morgan two tablets. “Take these, and no, don’t argue about it. You look exhausted as usual. They’ll ease the pain while your body heals and help you sleep. Taz may well be an arrogant SOB but he’ll see you okay until your father arrives.”
She waited until Morgan swallowed the tablets, washing them down with the water Taz had poured for her, then nodded, picked up her bag and left Morgan alone in the room.
~*~
By the time Taz had showered, dressed and returned to the sitting room, Morgan was asleep. He gazed down at her, wondering again what her connection to Hamish was, then bent and gently lifted her into his arms. She didn’t stir, other than to turn her face into his shoulder as he moved into his bedroom and placed her on top of his bed. He pulled one of the folded down sheets over her, his thoughts drifting back to that weekend in Vegas.
They’d met in the lounge at one of the casinos. Just two people having a drink. She’d watched him for an hour, not even trying to hide her interest. Until eventually, he’d crossed the room, taken her hand and drew her out of the overcrowded bar. She’d followed him readily, her fingers curled around his, until they were in the lobby.
“Do you want to go somewhere?” he’d asked her, and she shook her head.
“I have a room here.” It was his turn to follow as she pulled him toward the elevators. She didn’t even wait for the sliding doors to close before winding her arms around his neck and tugging his head down. Their mouths met and he could taste the residue of the Jack Daniels she’d been drinking mixed in with a taste that was uniquely hers. So used to dealing with women content to let him lead, he found her boldness refreshing. She wanted him, not Taz I’Ane – Pureblood Prince, Heir to the Nikaran House -but him, the man.
By the time the elevator door opened onto her floor, she’d completely unbuttoned his shirt to allow her hands the freedom to roam across his chest and shoulders while his mouth nipped and sucked a path down her throat. Tumbling out of the elevator, she guided him to the left, mumbling that her room was the third door along, and they only broke apart long enough for her to open the door. Falling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, he’d shrugged out of his shirt and threw it to the floor before wrapping his arms around her and rolling over so he lay on his back with her straddling his hips.
With a shake of his head, Taz exited the bedroom where a figure stood waiting for him, appearing from the shadow as if by magic. In fact, Taz came within inches of running into him before he noticed he was there.
“Bram-fucking-Stoker… Jee-sus Hamish!” Taz swore, stumbling back a step or two. “Cough, fart. Wear a fucking bell around your neck or something! I swear you’re gonna make me the first vampire in history to have a fucking heart attack.”
“Where is she?” The older man questioned without preliminaries, ignoring Taz’s rant – a trait Taz was infinitely familiar with. Business first, small talk – if any at all – later. Taz jerked his thumb over his shoulder and made his way to the bar. He’d scarcely had time to open the bottle of Wild Turkey, let alone pour a glass, when Hamish returned.
“Join me?” Taz raised the bottle in offering, to which Hamish nodded. Knowing the man as well as he did, Taz merely set out a second glass, allowing Hamish to pour for himself.
“I don’t imagine she told you what happened,” Hamish said.
Taz shook his head, knowing it hadn’t been a question. “Aside from asking for you at the lobby desk, no. Not really.” He paused, long enough for a quick gulp and then continued. “She knew you were here. Want to let me in on who she is?”
“You’re certain, Taz? She didn’t tell you anything?” Hamish enquired further, his expression unreadable.
“I’m…” Taz halted with the glass poised at his lips. One eyebrow, then the other, rose toward his hairline. “Tell me it’s not what I’m thinking. Tell me! Tell me I’m wrong, Hamish.” Taz’s eyes darted back and forth between the man beside him and the bedroom door. “Is she…? Jesus, you randy old goat! I mean, not just the fact you’re ancient enough to be her great-great-great-great-great granddaddy, but what about Hannah? How could you do that to such a great lady, you old dog?”
“Taz…” Hamish began softly, a smile forming on his bearded features.
“What? What’s your excuse?” The younger man continued. “A moment of weakness? Midlife crisis times one hundred? You got drunk at a party and before you know it?” He broke off when Hamish laughed. “What?”
“She’s my daughter, Taz,” Hamish replied, still chuckling. He patted the now speechless and gaping Taz on his shoulder. “But I appreciate your concern for my wife.”
~*~
Morgan stretched, feeling the pull and stretch of muscles stiffened by long-distance driving, and the knife fight. She rolled over onto her side, opened her eyes sleepily and focused on the blurred shape sitting in an armchair near the side of the bed.
“What are you doing there?” she asked when he came into focus and she recognised him.
“Watching you sleep,” Taz replied absently, flicking through the newspaper he held.
Morgan digested his response with a frown and the extended silence brought his head up to look at her. She raised a hand to drag it through her sleep-tousled hair, propped her chin on her hand and scowled at him. “That’s just…” she searched around for a word. “Creepy!” she said, eventually.
Taz dropped the paper, letting it slide off his lap and onto the floor as he stood up. “I’ll tell you what’s creepy. Creepy is winding up in bed with the daughter of my father’s best friend six months ago. The daughter of a man who is as much a part of my family as my own parents. The daughter I never knew he had! And I’ve known him and Hannah since I was a kid.”
“You knew about me. You just don’t remember.” Morgan tipped her head back to meet his glare head on. “But why would you? My birth and childhood had no effect on your life and, everyone knows, unless it has a direct bearing on what you want to do then it’s of no interest to you.
“Not only that, think how I felt discovering that the man who… the man I slept with was the same man I’m constantly cleaning up after!”
“Care to elaborate on that?” Ego aside, and despite all the ways she could have replied, his six months suspension and the question of what and why – after all his years of service to his father and the House Nikaris – came to mind.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Morgan sat up, wincing a little as the move pulled at her stitches.
“Obvious? Let’s go with no,” Taz snapped, bringing her attention back to the man towering over her.
“Every job you’ve done for the past eighteen months I’ve had to come in behind you and work damage control. I wouldn’t have even been in Vegas if you had finished the job cleanly. But nooo, you had to leave a trail wider than a rampaging elephant!”
Taz snorted. “Should I feel honoured? Hell, I don’t know about you, but my father doesn’t get it. He sends me out to collect a way past due debt, track down rogues that have been turning our so-called ‘safe domains’ into the va
mpire version of South Central L.A., or bring home the runaway spoiled brats of some powder puff purebred. I walk into some place with guys with bulges in the armpits of their Armani suits or a camp with men at every corner carrying AK-47s, and one minute the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I’m not so much concerned with orderly and neat as I am with not getting my ass shot off.”
“You've never heard the term ‘stealthy’ before?” she asked.
“I’m a vampire, sweetheart, not a ninja! Besides, that sneaky-creepy shit is more Hamish’s thing than… than…” his cocky rant gradually slowed, like a child’s wind-up toy, as realisation sank in. “And you’re his little girl,” he sighed. “Okay, I get it now. You’re Necuno and you’re on the Old Man’s payroll.”
“It’s right what they say about pedigree bloodlines being bred for looks but not intelligence, isn’t it?” Morgan shook her head, swung her legs around and off the side of the bed and stood up. “My name is Morganna, by the way.”
Chapter 2
“Did you tell him?”
Taz looked up at the sound of her voice. Morgan stood in the doorway of his bedroom, hair still damp from the shower and clad in what appeared to be one of his shirts.
“Is that mine?” he asked.
Morgan nodded. “My clothes are at the hotel I usually stay at. So, did you?”
“Did I what?” Taz looked mystified.
“Tell Hamish. About us. You know – meeting in Vegas?”
“Do I look insane? Not that I have ever witnessed it myself, but I’ve heard about some of the things he’s done to people as part of his job. What would he do to me if he found out I’d fu—“ he cut off, raked a hand through his hair then started again. “If he found out I’d slept with his daughter?”
Morgan stepped further into the room. “Well, I thought that seeing as you appear to have some kind of kamikaze death wish going on, it would be a simple method to achieve the desired result.”
“Where did you hear that? Who said I have a death wish?” His eyes followed the sway of her hips as she advanced toward him, and he scowled as desire coiled in the pit of his stomach. “That shirt you’re mangling is custom; hand made. A hundred dollars a pop, plus shipping from Milan!”
“This shirt isn’t mangled,” she looked down at it, then back up at him with a slow smile. “The one in Vegas was mangled, but you can have it back if you really want it.” She unbuttoned the shirt. “And your state of mind is the biggest piece of gossip within the Houses. You’re set on a course of self-destruction. Something to do with never being able to live up to Zuron’s expectations.” She shrugged, and the shirt fell from her shoulders to pool around her feet.
Taz groaned, forcing his eyes to stay on her face, and made an up-sweeping gesture with one hand. “Put it back on. And so you know – in bed you were pure dynamite. But out of it you’re a real pain in the ass.”
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” The softly spoken words made Morgan freeze mid-crouch to pick up the discarded shirt, then resume the movement jerkily, tugging it on and holding it closed.
Taz stiffened, staring past her into two sets of familiar eyes. His father – Lord Zuron I’Ane Dasmalle – stood to the right and behind Hamish Satori; both men sporting identically sour expressions. “Father… Hamish. Didn’t know you were… I mean, I didn’t hear you knock.”
“I’m fairly certain that wasn’t what you were saying a minute ago,” Hamish replied. “In fact, I’m almost positive I heard you refer to my daughter as being dynamite.” He glanced back at Zuron. “That was the word he used, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, I believe you are correct, my friend.” Zuron stepped forward, his gaze never wavering from that of his son’s. “And, I believe also, that the words preceding it were ‘in bed’. Of course, my hearing isn’t what it once was. I could be mistaken. Am I, Taz?”
“I – uh – what… sir?” Taz winced, fighting to keep his eyes from drifting in Morgan’s direction. “Ahhh, no sir,” Taz thought up and mentally discarded five excuses in the space of seconds. “What you actually caught was the tail end of a compliment.” His eyes flicked to Morgan. “Concerning my shirt, sir. It was ‘I said you are dynamite’… dynamite looking in my shirt, sir.”
“And out of it, she’s a pain in – what did you say, Taz?” Hamish arched an eyebrow. “Ah yes, I remember. A pain in the ass. Maybe it’s the biased opinion of a parent, and as disturbing as the thought is to me, I would imagine that most men would take immense pleasure in Morganna’s beauty. Do you not think she’s beautiful, Taz?”
Taz cleared his throat nervously, shooting Morgan a ‘you know you could jump in and rescue me’ look. “Far from it, sir – in fact, she’s one of the most attractive women it’s ever been my pleasure to—“ he winced, again. “That is, honour to lend a shirt to.”
“I… see,” Hamish replied.
Morgan had watched the interaction between the two in silence. Seeing the hard glint in Hamish’s eyes, she stepped forward. “Are you done?”
“Excuse me?” Hamish looked at his daughter.
“I said ‘are you done?’ Stop tormenting him. I’m not a child, nor do you have any right to demand explanations about what he did or didn’t say about me.” The glance she cast in Taz’s direction had him bracing himself. Whatever was coming, he knew in his gut that he would come out on the wrong side of it. She cast a humourless smile around the room as she took the few steps needed to stand beside Taz. “After all these years working in the same field, do you think this is the first time we’ve met?”
Ohhh shit, I’m dead, I’m dead! I’m fuckin’ d-e-a-d!
“What the fuck are you doing?” Taz whispered, eyeing the two men in front of them the way a young gazelle on the fringes of the herd watched a pair of predators poised on the tree-line.
“You’re not scared of a pair of old men, are you?” Morgan taunted.
“So, you have met before, have you?” Zuron chimed in. “And just where and when was that?”
“I don’t really think that’s any of your business, with all due respect. We were in the same place at the same time.” She levelled a cold look at the two older men. “But that can’t come as a surprise to you since you’ve had me chasing his tail for the past year or so.” She gave Taz a cool smile. “Anyway, it was a means to an end. You were talking about bonding me to some idiot who, no doubt, was expecting some innocent young thing. A weekend with Taz seemed a reasonable choice to take care of that problem.”
“Right, reasonable,” Taz echoed, frowning at her, while hopefully disguising the ‘ouch’ in his tone, even while he mentally filed away questions about this bonding business. “I had a little time to kill after San… after my last assignment. She came along, suggested something simple and uncomplicated. Just a pastime to fight off the boredom…” he avoided Hamish’s eyes.
Morgan had tensed up more and more at every sentence he uttered. She had expected him to deny any association, not pass it off as one more notch on his bedpost.
“Fight off the boredom?” she repeated, turning to face him, seeming to have forgotten the two older men in the room. “Simple and uncomplicated? I should have aimed for your head instead of your shoulder!” She spun on her heel and stalked into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind her.
Taz glanced from the door tow here Hamish and Zuron stood and then back to the door again.
“Well, well, well,” Hamish chuckled. “Maybe we should leave the children alone to agree upon a story?” He slapped his oldest friend on the shoulder. “If you hurt her,” he added to Taz as they headed toward the door. “I won’t need to hunt you down because she will have killed you long before I got there.” Still chuckling, both men exited the suite.
“What the fuck just happened?” Taz felt like he’d just starred in an episode of The Twilight Zone. As strange events went, this had to have been one of the strangest in a long time and; considering both his age and his occupation; that was saying something. Stepping over
to the wet bar, he poured himself a large drink.
~*~
Back in the bedroom, Morgan was pacing. What the hell was she playing at? Why was she getting offended by Taz’s comments? She shook her head. The man meant nothing to her… nothing… what did it matter how he viewed their weekend together? When had she turned the whole sordid incident into something it wasn’t? She grimaced. Oh, who are you trying to fool? She’d spent many nights after that weekend in Vegas imagining driving to Seattle, wondering if she would bump into him again, if he would recognise her when the inevitable happened and she returned to Shadowfall. Her heart had sped up each time she’d spied a dark-blonde man with his particular build whenever she was in Vegas.
A tap on the door brought her out of her thoughts.
“They’ve left. Would you like a drink?” Taz called through the door.
She took a deep breath, pulled the door open and studied the man standing beyond it for a long moment. “You’re shorter than I remember,” she said, with a provoking smile.
“How would you know? You were horizontal most of the time we were together,” Taz retaliated without pause, smirking when her bottom lip dropped in surprise.
“You—“ the speed with which she raised her hand to hit him was fast, but Taz was faster – catching her wrist before the slap connected with his cheek.
“Already?” Taz tightened his grip with a grin. “I kinda thought we’d have time to talk more before we got into foreplay, but hey, I’m easy.” With a jerk of his hand, he hauled her into closer proximity to his taller, lean body.
“Wait! What are you doing?”
“Oh, come on, Morganna.” Still holding her wrist, Taz dropped his free hand, delving beneath the tail of the shirt she was wearing and smiling when his fingers made contact with his desired target area. Morgan could not hide her head to toe shiver, pressed as she was against him. “Wasn’t that what this was all about? My shirt, goading your father and Zuron? Well, it worked. You got me all fired up.” He tugged her hand down and flattened her palm against his erection while he stroked her inner thigh. “And you are too. So…?”
