She shook her head. When she tried to visualize her future, only a black hole appeared. The bottomless pit of her life, sucking scant hope into an abyss.
“What about a tour of New Orleans?” Odie startled her out of her dark thoughts.
“Pardon?” she asked.
“May I take you and Barnaby on a tour of New Orleans? Complete with cultural activities and fantastic food?”
“That sounds lovely, old friend. I’ll be ready in a moment.” Barnaby pushed back and shuffled back to his bedroom.
Odie stood as well.
Ruth walked to the window. Citizens strolled in T-shirts and pants. Maybe she should make Barnaby put on a sweater. He got chilled so easily these days. Damn it. Her boss was aging in front of her, and there was nothing she could do about it.
“What about you, chère?” Odie had caught her staring toward Barnaby’s room.
Oh, how her bones melted when he used that word. Chère. No one had ever called her that, and the way he said it both soothed and riled her nerves, like fingers trailed down her spine. Too bad they had no future.
Too bad she didn’t trust that lopsided grin. Or any man’s smile, for that matter.
She’d had a partner, 150 years ago. He had used her and then discarded her, ripping away her children in the aftermath. She never saw her beautiful son and daughter again. That disaster had turned her into the Indebted killer she was today. Since then, she’d avoided any emotional entanglements, and today was no time to break that rule.
“My apologies, but no, I will decline.” Moving back to the table, she gripped the back of a chair.
“Why?”
“Well, someone took my kill, so I need to prepare for this evening ...”
“But it’s daylight, so you have plenty of time.”
His quick grin managed to be both chagrined and sexy at the same time, and something fluttered deep in her stomach. An emotion she had never experienced before. Something restless, like a bird on the verge of taking flight.
Her love for her husband had been simple, affectionate, but unrequited, and ultimately used against her.
But being around Odie felt like she’d punched her ticket on a grand adventure and was about to depart. Soaring hope and fear. She wanted more of that sensation, and at the same time, she wanted none of that feeling.
“Thank you. No.” Hopefully, he would get the hint.
“My humble apologies for disrupting your work last night, madame.”
“You didn’t know.” She tried to paste a kind smile on her face and hoped she succeeded. “It’s not every day you find a damsel in distress who gets mad at you for gutting her murder victim.”
“You’re correct. It’s not every day such an opportunity as this one presents itself.”
Shivering beneath his ice-green gaze, she tried not to climb over the table to fix that errant curl of hair that brushed across his forehead. Never in her prolonged life had she felt that compulsion, and she laced her fingers together to hide the sudden shaking. Blinking to focus on anything but the man sitting across from her, she spun around to leave the room.
He mirrored her movement with two quick strides around the table, and then stopped, a heartbeat away. When he stood right in front of her, all she saw was his sensual lips, surrounded by the close-trimmed beard and moustache. What would those whiskers feel like on her mouth, her neck, her ...
She studied his dark, wavy hair, worn long enough to tempt a woman to run her fingers through it. What intrigued her even more was how the fabric of his untucked denim shirt fabric strained against those broad shoulders. How his thick thigh muscles flexed beneath the dark indigo jeans as he shifted his weight from one black-booted foot to another. She couldn’t stop staring.
“Magnifique.” Less a word, than a caress, coming from his lips.
Her breath caught in her throat as the heat from his large frame washed over her in waves, like her skin had become hypersensitive to the temperature changes coming from him.
It only took an instant to bridge the space between them. When Odie leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, the smell of spicy Andouille and his cologne surrounded her, sending delicious coils of pleasure deep into her belly.
As he pulled back, an emotion, like laughter and panic, cracked open inside of her.
Rigid control shattered.
Ruth surged forward, pressing her lips to his, heat against heat.
Odie’s big hand snaked around her neck, pulling her even closer as she reveled in how his strong mouth slanted over hers, each angle sparking delicious quivers through her limbs.
He braced his legs apart and leaned into her, nudging her lips open with his. The hardness at his groin had her breathing faster. Or was it him?
Ruth slid her hands around to the corded lines of his back and squeezed. The groan in the back of his throat vibrated through her torso until her nipples tightened in response.
His scratchy beard sent lightning bolts of desire into her gut. The sensation swirled and grew until she wanted those lips and that deliciously rough beard on the rest of her body. Immediately.
As if he knew her thoughts, he parted her lips further, and she opened for him, savoring the sensation of his hot tongue on the inside of her mouth. Their tongues tangled in an eddy of torrid passion. The touch of his hand on the back of her neck, the caress of his fingers over her cheek, transported her. For this small space in time, his kisses took her away from this life as an on-demand killer. And for this small space in time, she no longer felt the distance of being hundreds of years removed from her beloved children and from her husband’s still-raw betrayal. She could happily exist here, safe in this sexy man’s arms.
No, this Indebted man’s arms.
Unhuman. Just like her.
Indebted. With a harebrained plan to try to destroy Jerahmeel.
If he could only charm someone into helping with the plan.
Someone like her.
Bait.
Holy hell, how could she be so naive?
Had it truly been so long since she enjoyed a man’s touch that she succumbed the moment Odie showed any interest in her? For a second there, she would have done anything he asked. Putty in his hands. He was much too dangerous and much too enthralling.
A man had used her years before.
Fool me twice.
Right now would be a perfect opportunity to use her secret gift. Unfortunately, after she’d used her power on her husband 150 years ago, she now tried to tiptoe the fine line between verification of crimes and avoidance of psychic invasion for her own personal gains. Tempting as it might be to confirm Odie’s intentions, her principles held fast. She’d have to do this the old-fashioned way.
She placed her palms on his muscled chest, waves of heat searing her hands. When she shoved against him, his hands gripped her neck and back, keeping her close.
“Odie.”
He trailed his hand over the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck, and Ruth shuddered.
“Odie, stop.”
She dipped her head, turning away from another kiss. Unfortunately, all this did was encourage him to brush his lips over her neck and jaw, each touch swirling exquisite sensations down her spine. He nipped at the sensitive lobe of her ear, eliciting tiny waves of happiness. His scent of warm, spicy man nearly undid her resolve.
“Enough. I get it.”
“Pardonnez?”
His eyes had turned the typical jet black of an Indebted with heightened emotion.
So what if he felt something? She refused to be seduced into participating in his risky plans.
Pushing harder, she stepped away, and his arms dropped to his sides, pulling the fabric tight as his chest heaved. He blinked several times, and his iris color changed from endless night to luminous green again.
His brow furrowed. “Did I do something wrong, chère?”
“I might be an easy mark, but you won’t lure me into your scheme with this ... coercion.”
“What?
”
As he held his hands up, Ruth backed up, bumping into the chair. She grasped the back for support, waving off the hand he offered.
“I understand your motives, sir.”
“What?”
“Don’t play me the fool.”
“But I didn’t—”
She wanted to believe the lost, wounded expression on his tanned face, where lines of concern wrinkled his forehead. Almost gave in again. Almost believed that a sexy rogue might have wanted her without strings attached. If she had lived any different life, she might have fallen for it. But not in this life and not today. She would never trust a handsome man again.
“You’ll have to seduce someone else into helping you.” She brushed a fingertip over her lips before the action registered, cursing herself as his hungry stare locked on to her mouth. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to my work.”
Now that she had succeeded in breaking his spell, however, the hated knife began to throb, clouding her mind. Every thought focused on obtaining her next kill. When would this sick insanity stop?
“Madame, I didn’t mean to imply that—”
With a sharp movement of her hand, she cut him off and dropped back into ingrained society manners, erecting an instinctive barrier, as she had done for years, even while her world crumbled all around.
“Why don’t you wait in the sitting room for Barnaby? He’ll be ready soon for his tour. Please enjoy yourself today, and keep him safe. If he has any fatigue or problems, would you bring him back immediately?”
“Of course, but—”
“Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure to meet you, and I wish you every success in the future.”
For a moment, he simply stood there, mouth open and eyebrows raised. Then his features turned dark and hard, making him appear larger and more dangerous. He inhaled and then snapped his jaw shut, pressing his lips into a harsh line. Turning on a heel, he stormed out of the dining room.
Damn if she didn’t study how his thigh muscles bunched under the blue jeans, and damn if the air didn’t cool twenty degrees as he departed. She had gotten her senses all addled by this man with a plan. A plan that would never include her.
Chapter 5
That evening, she asked the concierge at the hotel’s front desk about which section of town to avoid. Then she went directly to that area: Central City.
Amazing how New Orleans changed only a mile or so south and west of the French Quarter. No tourists here, just pockets of old homes interspersed with blighted, run-down buildings. Poverty and sadness permeated the air and pressed down on her shoulders, sapping energy and hope. Flickers of movements in the boarded up homes hinted at squatters living there. Ruth had already seen drug deals in the dark side streets this evening.
So basically, a perfect location for her work.
As a general rule, she tried to spread out the placement of her kills so there would be no pattern and to engender less curiosity from local law enforcement. More importantly, changing the location of the kills made it harder for Jerahmeel to anticipate her whereabouts. Normally, too, she would vary her costume, but she’d brought only the one blonde wig for this trip. She hadn’t planned on needing multiple attempts to achieve her kill quota while on vacation.
Due to a sheltered upbringing in Rockville, Maryland, her upper-class family had raised her to have genteel manners. Now, however, as an Indebted killer, gone was the woman who loved dinner parties and dressing in taffeta, the woman who lived for her children and her husband and helping others. Gone was the woman who believed in love and faith in her fellow man.
Amazingly, her marriage ended not because she had become an Indebted, but because of her other power. The power that had nothing to do with her unhuman state.
She had discovered her husband’s betrayal through her gift of reading minds, the same ability she used now to verify the crimes of each kill.
First the Civil War, then her conversion into an Indebted, and finally her husband’s deception had all but driven away any hope for humanity—her own or others’. She couldn’t trust her husband, and every kill increased her lack of faith in mortals. Who did that leave? No one.
Barnaby’s presence helped, but when he finally passed away at some point in the future, she would be adrift again, searching for purpose, clinging to ... nothing. Fine, she could nurse someone else, but it wouldn’t be the same. The meaning of her life had lost all substance, like trying to grab hold of air. Panic raked her lungs raw, and she had to lean against a light pole to catch her breath.
Nothing. She had nothing left, she had no purpose, no family. Oh, God, there was nothing.
She might have used her gift on Odie, but she hated invading someone else’s deepest sanctuary and, as a general rule, refused to use her power in that manner.
She had no idea where her ability came from, only that it had fully manifested in a time of desperation, her darkest hour—or so she had thought. She had hints of her power prior to that black moment, but the final straw came with the terror that she would lose her children. A weird, high-pitched teakettle-type whistle in her head had nearly split her skull in two. Then bang! The power to read minds—specifically, her husband’s—emerged. After that, the power became a part of her.
And she had no intention of sharing the details of it with anyone. Her ability was her most guarded secret.
But if she had looked into Odie’s mind, she would’ve seen the truth. Did she really want to know what he thought about her?
Even now, a niggling sense of him in the back of her mind remained. Strange. Like he stood right outside of her line of sight, a ridiculous idea, since she hadn’t even told Barnaby where she was headed tonight. Maybe her lust for the kill had gotten confused with her lust for ... other things. Damn Odie’s sexy mouth. She brushed her fingers across her lips before she could stop herself.
Quit it. Finish tonight’s job.
Rifling in the empty purse she used as a prop for her disguise, she smiled when a group of men on the opposite corner nodded in her direction. She turned down another street, searching for a safe location to stage the kill. Her goal: Draw attention as a single white woman, lost and possibly drunk, who had wandered over from the tourist sections of town.
These men would see exactly what she wanted them to see.
Pushing blond hair off her shoulders, Ruth glanced around again.
Almost midnight. Most citizens had settled in for the evening. Anyone who remained out at this hour had a higher chance of being what she, or rather the knife, needed.
To help create her alter ego, she had dressed in stiletto heels. The black slacks and a black wrap top were suited more for a dinner party than a walk through the rough section of town. By adding the flaxen wig, she completed her transition into the right frame of mind for the kill. Now she felt more alluring, more in touch with the other aspect of her personality. The deadly seductress created such dissonance with her normal character.
“Normal character.” What a joke. Even daily life had become an act. Holy hell, what a nightmare she had become.
“Hey, mama, whatcha doin’ out here tonight?”
With some encouragement from his friends, a black man approached. As expected, when she glanced back, additional men closed in behind her. Now she needed to see whether this guy would suffice as a criminal about to die or if another of his friends better fit the bill.
Too bad the man wasn’t alone. She hated witnesses, but she wasn’t in a position to pick and choose. She had to make this kill work tonight.
“Ah, can you fellas tell me how to get back to the French Quarter? I’m a little lost.”
She stumbled and giggled, ignoring the knowing smirks as the men formed a loose circle around her. The knife’s relentless hunger began to heat her leg, and her heart pounded.
When she pivoted back to the first man who had approached her, the knife nearly keened, its desire for a corrupt soul was so intense. This sneering man reeked of evil. Good. The more co
rrupt, the better, as far as her chances of getting the Meaningful Kill went.
He stared at her chest, oblivious to the danger she presented. Perfect.
“Maybe you want to give me ... directions. Over there.” She pointed with her chin toward a parked car on a side street.
“You know I do.”
He followed her fifty paces away, next to a car without front wheels. He was a big guy, dark as night, with a gold tooth that glinted in the streetlight when he grinned, and all pumped-up muscle and swagger.
She staggered once again for good measure, and the idiot did nothing to help. Not that she expected chivalry, but his lack of couth only added fuel to the knife’s hunger.
“Let me tell you a secret.” She hiccupped.
“What you wanna tell me, baby?”
The knife wanted him. Now. “Lean closer, sugar,” she said.
He licked his lips, grinned, and preened like an overstuffed peacock. As a lover would, she took his face in her hands, almost caressing the arches of his cheekbones. The hoots from his friends faded as she entered this guy’s mind.
“What the—”
He pulled back, but she pressed her hands tighter to lock him in place. “Shush. Just enjoy it.”
She effectively shut down his speech center with a thought as she parted the curtains of his mind. Since he hadn’t admitted to a crime, she would have to find it.
His friends walked toward them, restless and punching each other on the arms as they watched their mute buddy. To them, he appeared riveted on Ruth and about to get some action.
Which was exactly what she wanted them to see.
Her scalp beneath the blond wig itched. Concentrate.
Into the deepest recess of his conscious mind she went, filtering past images of a woman whose gray-laced, curly hair surrounded a careworn face. Ruth pushed past glimpses of babies, all smiles and outstretched arms, each perched on a different woman’s lap. This guy was a real winner.
She found the crime. There, buried deep down and abutting his subconscious. Although he had done a remarkable job suppressing the memory, if a person had a past, Ruth could eventually find it. When the man made a guttural sound as he fought against her control, she tweaked the mental pressure so he could no longer move.
Flame Unleashed (Hell to Pay) Page 5
