She recounted the nightmare with an artist's eye for details. When she reached the part where she was safely tucked into Maynard Cooper's car, Ranulf gradually withdrew the trickle of energy he'd been feeding her. When she stopped talking, Kerry shook her head as if to clear it.
She glared at Ranulf. "Tell me again who you work for."
"A private party."
Judging by the stubborn tilt of her chin, she wasn't going to accept that answer. How much of the truth could he tell her? "I am not at liberty to reveal the name of my employer. However, I've been instructed to offer you my services as bodyguard until the arsonist is apprehended."
"And if I don't want a babysitter?" She slammed her bottle down on the table with enough force to rattle the bowl of chips.
He cocked an eyebrow and looked at her with narrowed eyes. "You don't look stupid."
That did it. Kerry was up and out of the chair, marching straight for the door. She threw it open in a clear signal for him to hit the road.
"Leave, Mr. Thorsen. Now."
When he didn't immediately move, she said, "Leave or I'll let you explain to the police just who you really are."
She'd do it, too. His lips twitched with the need to smile, but for now he'd allow her the small victory, then hang around outside until Sandor reappeared. Wouldn't his fellow Talion get a kick out of knowing this slip of a woman had successfully vanquished Ranulf?
As he walked past Kerry, he allowed himself a small taste of her scent. His body stirred to life with almost painful intensity as he fought the urge to kiss that frown off her face. It was definitely time to put some distance between himself and temptation. "We'll talk again soon, Miss Logan." She slammed her door closed. Ranulf turned away, grinning at the show of temper. Despite everything that had been thrown at her, Kerry definitely had spirit. He liked that about her. He liked it a lot.
Kerry hesitated briefly before entering the club. Maybe it would have been smarter to stay home, but she'd been pacing the floor ever since Ranulf Thorsen had dropped his bombshell about Coop. She'd watched the news until she'd confirmed his story; only then had she allowed herself to shed a single tear. After the torrent had finally slowed, she'd known that she'd either have had to get out of the apartment to go clubbing or start screaming. Craving the catharsis of music, she'd fled.
She smiled at the woman collecting the cover charge, then handed over her money. After getting her hand stamped, she headed straight for her favorite corner and absorbed the pounding rhythms with a sigh of relief. The music felt like warm honey pouring over her skin and soaking into her soul.
For the first time since the fire, she could breathe without feeling as if she had to force her lungs to work. After a few seconds, she was ready to join the throng on the dance floor. As the music warmed her up, she let loose and let it all go. Swaying, spinning, losing herself in the moment.
When the song ended, she took a break at the bar and ordered a drink. If she wasn't careful she'd run out of steam after the first few songs, and she wanted the evening to last as long as possible. All that waited for her at home was memories of the night before. As she sipped a glass of the house red, she watched the ebb and flow of the crowd.
She was dimly aware of a large male body sliding onto the stool next to hers. When she gave him a quick glance, he smiled at her before trying to attract the bartender's attention. The place was busy, so it took a couple of minutes for the bartender to work his way down to their end of the bar.
"While he's here, do you need a refill?"
Kerry had been watching the dancers, especially one couple with particularly dazzling moves. Their intricate, fast-stepping dance patterns bespoke a lot of practice and hard work, even if they were making it look easy. She wished she'd been a part of a couple who looked at each other with such intensity. It was obvious they were having fun with the dance, but it was the passion in their eyes and the way they touched that made it special.
She realized that the stranger next to her was still waiting for her answer. "I'm fine, but thanks."
He nodded and told the bartender, "A beer. Whatever you have on tap."
Once he had his drink, he turned to watch the dance floor. "They're good."
"Yes, they are. I'll be sorry when the song ends."
Normally she would have resented his interrupting her private time, but somehow it didn't feel as if he was intruding into her personal space. As he watched the dancers, she studied his profile. He was handsome, but good looks weren't everything. And there was something beyond his good looks that drew her interest. How odd.
She finished her drink and set the glass on the bar to rejoin the dancing. Would he follow her? For some reason, she wanted a partner tonight. Or at least she wanted him. She turned back after taking only a few steps.
"Did you come here to dance?"
If he was surprised by her invitation, he didn't show it. "Sounds like fun."
He followed her onto the floor but made no effort to take her in his arms. Good. The DJ could have been reading her mind as he played song after song with a fast beat and heavy rhythm. Her partner was as lost in the dance as she was.
Then the music changed, slowing way down with lots of sax and softness. Without hesitation she stepped into the stranger's arms, feeling a surge of warmth and peace as he pulled her close. She didn't question her body's unusual response and allowed herself to enjoy the four minutes of solace.
Kerry felt damn good in his arms. She was a great dancer, but that wasn't all. Was she aware of the flow of energy between them? Probably not—or at least she didn't recognize it for what it was. Luckily, the humans around them were giving off plenty of their life force for him to feed from.
The song was ending, which was a damn shame. The tough part of his job would start when he had to turn this woman's world upside down and inside out. Most newly discovered Kyth reacted in a predictable manner: fear, denial, anger, and finally acceptance. It was hard to suddenly wake up and find out that the reality you'd always known was flat-out wrong.
He suspected Kerry was stronger than most, which made it difficult to predict what she would do. She might reject his claims outright, or she might embrace her newfound kin with exuberance. The only thing he was sure of was that it would be anything but dull.
The lights came up, and couples all over the dance floor separated, him and Kerry included. She seemed a bit hesitant about what to do next.
He made it easy for her. "I'm going to have another beer. Can I get you anything?"
"I'd love something cold and nonalcoholic." Her smile was grateful.
"Why don't you grab a table and I'll fetch the drinks."
He walked away, leaving the final decision up to her. When he returned, she was perched on the edge of a chair at a table on the edge of the dance floor. Her body language made it clear that if he pushed too much, she'd be off and running.
As he set her drink down, he smiled and took the chair opposite her. "I just realized that I never got around to introducing myself." He held out his hand. "I'm Sandor Kearn."
She accepted the handshake and looked startled at the small jolt of energy that surged between them. Pretending nothing had happened, Sandor gave her a questioning look.
"What? Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Kerry Logan." Her dark eyes slid past him to watch the dancers again.
"I'd ask if you come here often, but I'm afraid that would sound too much like a pickup line." He sipped his beer and joined her in watching those still out on the dance floor.
Her dark eyes twinkled. "Yes."
"Yes, you come here often, or yes, it's too much like I'm hitting on you?"
Kerry only laughed as she set her drink down and headed for the dance floor. He was about to follow her when he saw a familiar figure standing across the room. What the hell was that damn Viking doing there, and how had he found them? As soon as Ranulf knew Sandor had seen him, he jerked his head in the direction of the restrooms and disappeared into the crowd.
Rath
er than head straight for the Viking, Sandor made his way to where Kerry had staked out a spot in the middle of the dance floor. She immediately turned her back but eased closer to him. Talk about conflicting messages. He leaned close enough to make himself heard over the music. "Kerry, I didn't want you to think I was abandoning you, but I need to make a quick call to my boss. I'll be right back, if that's okay with you."
Without missing a beat, she nodded and let the music sweep her away. Sandor dodged between the dancers to follow Ranulf into the men's room, where they could talk without Kerry seeing them together.
Chapter Five
Ranulf leaned against the wall by the sinks and waited for Sandor to show up. It didn't take long, and the Talion wasn't bothering to hide his irritation over Ranulf's interrupting his move on Kerry Logan. Too bad.
"I see you've already gotten chummy with her." Ranulf was proud of how calm he sounded.
"That's my job." Sandor's eyes narrowed. "Look, Viking, I'm tired, so don't fuck with me. What are you doing here? And how did you find us?" He splashed water on his face and reached for a paper towel.
How could Ranulf explain that he'd happened to drive by the club and had felt Kerry's proximity? He didn't understand it himself. Her energy signature was resonating with his in a way he'd never experienced in all his years. He ignored the question and said bluntly, "We know who the arsonist is."
"We do?" Sandor straightened up. "Who is it?"
Ranulf held out the small sketch he'd taken off the dead investigator. Sandor didn't miss the splash of dried red-brown droplets, but it was the face he reacted to.
"Bradan?" he sneered with a bitter laugh. "You're saying Bradan set the fire? That's bullshit! I've known him my whole life. He's the last Talion I'd believe would go renegade."
He'd never hidden the fact that he thought Ranulf would be the first, and he was wrong about that, too. Ranulf took the paper back and tucked it into his shirt pocket. "Believe what you will, but I got that from Maynard Cooper, the arson investigator."
"I don't know where he got that sketch, but if it was part of his investigation, he sure as hell wouldn't have given it to you." Sandor started to walk away.
"I didn't say he gave it to me. I took it off his dead body." Ranulf waited until Sandor turned back around. His eyes burned bright with fury as he continued, "He'd been gutted and left to die. Whoever did it took pleasure in the act, and most likely took all of Cooper's files with him."
Sandor swallowed hard. "How did he miss that picture?"
"Cooper had it in his hand and died protecting it. Judith and I both believe it had more meaning than just a random drawing."
Ranulf understood Sandor's pain, but now wasn't the time for grief. That would come later, when Bradan was dead and buried. Ranulf would give Sandor another few seconds to snap out of it, or he'd have to take over protecting Kerry himself.
The music outside changed pace again, and Sandor jerked. "Hell, we're standing in here talking, and Kerry's out there alone!"
"Make sure she gets home safely. I'll stand watch tonight." Anything to get Sandor away from her for a while. Even now, he wanted to be the one to charge out to the dance floor to hold her close.
"I'll relieve you at first light. She's pretty damn skittish, so I may not be able to press her about her plans for tomorrow. I'll call you with whatever I find out."
"Fair enough." Ranulf braced himself for another explosion. "Just so you know, when I called Judith about Bradan, she sent me to check on Kerry myself since you were busy elsewhere."
"Son of a bitch! She knows Kerry is my half of this deal." He glared at Ranulf, a surge of energy dancing darkly in his eyes.
"Yeah, well, if it's any comfort, Kerry didn't like it any better than you do. She threw me out, and I can't see her welcoming me back anytime soon."
"Figures. Stay away from her, before you screw this up for all of us."
Now wasn't the time to get into a pissing contest, though. "Look," Ranulf interjected, "I'm not planning on getting in your way, but I thought you should know. Go distract her, so she won't see us together."
"Fine." Sandor started to leave, then abruptly stopped to check his appearance in the mirror. Under other circumstances Ranulf would have ribbed him about it, but he saw the real grief in Sandor's eyes over Bradan's betrayal. If Sandor needed a little time to gather himself, Ranulf would give it to him.
After the younger Talion left, Ranulf waited several minutes before leaving the men's room. His intent was to head for the nearest exit, but his steps faltered. Kerry had worked her way to the edge of the crowd, her back turned in his direction. She moved so well that it was as if the music had been hardwired right into the heart of her.
He'd always preferred his women tall, buxom, and blonde. Kerry was the exact antithesis, but his body didn't seem to care. His nostrils flared, trying to draw in her scent from across the room, his pulse stuttering with a hot rush of hard-driving need.
He wanted to go claim her right there on the dance floor. Maybe he was still a barbarian at heart. After all, he'd been born a Viking and raised in a time when warriors roamed the world taking what they wanted. Dame Judith might have taught him civilized manners, but obviously those old urges were merely buried, not dead.
He stood mesmerized by the woman he was supposed to protect, his mind filling with erotic possibilities, until he noticed Sandor glaring at him. The handsome Talion immediately moved to block Ranulf's view of Kerry. With some effort, Ranulf shook off his testosterone stupor and shoved his way out of the club. Outside, he sucked in several deep breaths of the damp night air to clear his head.
Bradan paced the floor, then returned to the stack of papers on the dining room table. With an angry jerk of his arm, he sent them flying up in the air. Kicking them as they landed, his temper reached a full boil. There was no use in asking how the investigator had picked his picture out of the crowd. Even if it had been his own damn fault for showing off in front of that woman, he didn't regret the human's death. Spilling the investigator's blood and then licking the knife clean while the bastard had breathed his last had almost made up for no one having died in the fire.
That was Kerry Logan's fault, too. If she'd been human, he would simply have tracked her down and killed her—horribly, painfully, gleefully. But she was Kyth, so he wouldn't rush into anything. Now that he knew her name and address, thanks to the dead man's detailed report, he could plan his next move. Right now she'd be looking over her shoulder, watching for his attack. She had to know that he'd be coining.
The only unknown was whether or not Dame Judith's intelligence network had picked up on the fire. He hoped so. Taking out her beloved Talions one by one would enhance his pleasure. Sandor would probably be the first one on the scene, and he wouldn't be much of a challenge. By all reports, the Viking had retired, which was too bad. Matching wits and strength against Ranulf would have been a challenge worthy of them both.
Bradan had been playing bloody games with humans for years on a small scale, but he'd grown weary of having to hide his particular tastes. Why should he have to operate under the radar of humanity when he was their superior in every way? Sure, they outnumbered the Kyth a million times over, but Mother Nature always made sure the prey far outnumbered the predators.
Picking up a newspaper from the stack he'd accumulated since the fire, he studied Kerry Logan's picture. Despite her bedraggled appearance, there was a lot of strength in the way she met the camera's eye head-on. The press had practically bowed before her, all because she'd saved a few worthless lives. They should have been focusing on him.
It was rather irritating, but no matter. He had bigger and better plans. Kerry Logan could bask in her fifteen minutes of glory, because that was all the time she had left. Once he had her, life as she had known it would be over.
He cut her picture out of the paper and taped it into his scrapbook. He flipped through several pages of clippings, smiling at each memory of pain inflicted and the satisfaction it
had brought him. Pleased with the start he'd made, he poured a glass of wine and settled into his favorite chair. Reaching for a pen and paper, he wrote down all of his plans for Kerry Logan. Lord, he loved making lists.
Kerry kicked off her shoes and sighed with pleasure. Though she'd had fun at the club, it felt good to be home. For a few hours she'd forgotten about the fire, although the specter of Coop's death remained fresh in her mind. At least Sandor had turned out to be an enjoyable companion, attentive but not pushy. She'd surprised herself by giving him her phone number and address when he'd invited her out to dinner. Normally she wouldn't have done that without knowing a man far longer than an evening of dancing.
She wasn't nearly ready to turn in for the night, so maybe she'd spend some time on her latest work project. Her boss had been most understanding about her wanting to avoid the office for a few days, as long as she kept up with her assigned projects.
And though she didn't want to admit it, she was afraid to turn out the lights and close her eyes. At the hotel she'd been able to sleep, since the arsonist didn't know her name or where she lived, but the headlines had ripped that security blanket to shreds. She felt exposed and vulnerable.
She picked up a small blown-glass dragon she'd found at a local street fair and traced its curves. The smooth, cool surface helped soothe her as she stared out her bedroom window into the darkness. Was he out there, watching and waiting?
No, he wasn't. Looking up at the stars, she got the strangest feeling that a guardian angel was watching over her. In that instant, for no discernable reason, she went from being fearful to convinced that she was safe for the moment. Maybe it was just exhaustion, but a sense of well-being and warmth that had been missing since the fire stole over her.
At last, her bed was calling. Tomorrow she would concentrate on getting her life back to normal. For now, she would sleep.
Standing in the shadows of the trees, Ranulf stared up at Kerry's bedroom window. He could just make out her silhouette, but his mind supplied all the details: the burnished silk of her hair, those huge dark eyes, and her body that moved with a dancer's grace. Kerry had come to the window, her fear of Bradan keeping her from going to bed. Ranulf had never experienced such a strong emotional connection with anyone, but he didn't question the truth of what he was feeling.
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