After Dark

by Jayne Castle

  “Help yourself, pal.” Lydia reached up to pat him. “You deserve it. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  She picked up the wineglass and started toward the balcony. En route she paused to listen. The knocking appeared to have stopped. She told herself she was relieved, but deep inside she knew she was lying.

  The evening was warm. She opened the balcony slider and left it that way. She had just settled down onto one of the loungers when she heard someone open the supposedly locked living room door behind her.

  Fuzz continued to munch, placidly content. Lydia did not look back over her shoulder. She was pretty sure she knew who had just entered her apartment.

  “I don’t know what the hell is going on here,” Emmett said as he came out onto the balcony. “But if you think I’m going to let you pretend I no longer exist, you can think again.”

  “Believe me, I know you exist.” She took a sip of wine, hoping it would calm her. “You’re pretty hard to ignore, London.”

  “So I’ve been told.” He sat down on the opposite lounger. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Was it going back underground? Did it bring back some bad memories? Lydia, if you need to see a shrink, I know a good one in Resonance. A friend of the family.”

  “A friend of the family.” She slammed the glass down so hard that wine splattered on the table. “You mean a shrink with a Guild connection, don’t you?”

  “Well, yes, he has treated dissonance-energy para-rezes who work for the Resonance Guild, but that doesn’t mean he can’t handle an ephemeral-energy para-rez. He’s very well qualified.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he is,” she said through her teeth. “I’m sure he’s first-rate. But as it happens, I don’t need a shrink.”

  “Are you sure? You’ve been acting very strangely ever since we came out of the catacombs. Maybe going back underground so soon after your bad experience six months ago wasn’t good for you.”

  She leveled a finger at him. “Don’t start. If you tell me that you’ve finally joined the ranks of folks who think I’ve lost my para-rez pitch, I swear I’ll throw you off this balcony.”

  “I know you haven’t lost your pitch,” he said calmly. The way you handled the traps in the tunnels proved that. But there are other things that can go wrong.”

  “Yes.” She picked up her glass. “There certainly are other things that can go wrong.”

  He was beginning to look wary instead of concerned. I think I’m missing something here.”

  “You? Nah.” She took another sip of wine. “How could you miss anything? You’re a Guild boss—”

  “Ex-Guild boss. And I’ve told you, I prefer the term ‘CEO.’”

  She sniffed. “Pardon me. You’re the ex-CEO of the Resonance Guild. How could anything escape your all-knowing gaze?”

  “Lydia, I’m here because I’m worried about you. You haven’t been acting normal for the past two days.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” she said very evenly.

  “Is that so? Then why won’t you take my calls? Why won’t you answer the door when you know I’m standing out there in the damned hall? I’m not leaving until I get an answer.”

  She looked at him, anger bubbling inside, hot and painful, seeking release. “You want an answer? I’ll give you one. The only thing wrong is that I’m mad.”

  “Mad?” He hesitated. “At me?”

  “No. At myself.”

  He relaxed, but only slightly. “Why?”

  “For trusting you.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean? What have I done to make you stop trusting me?”

  “Let’s start with the way you called in those two guys from the Resonance Guild and posted them as guards outside the shelter.”

  “Harry and Ray? I know it didn’t work out the way I planned because of the trap Vickers left at the door, but it seemed a reasonable move. We didn’t know if anyone in the Cadence Guild was involved in the excavation work, so I didn’t want to risk using someone local.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? Why didn’t you tell me that you’d called in two Guild men from out of town?”

  He shrugged. “For the same reason I didn’t mention it to Detective Martinez. Because I hadn’t cleared it with Mercer Wyatt. I didn’t want anyone to know I’d imported some extra muscle without getting Wyatt’s approval. Guild politics are a little tricky at times.”

  “Guild politics.” She wanted to scream with frustration. “That’s what it was all about, wasn’t it? Guild politics were more important than keeping your partner informed.”

  He was suddenly very watchful. “You’re pissed just because I didn’t mention the fact that I brought in some out-of-town help?”

  “I’m pissed because I’m wondering how many other things you didn’t bother to tell me because Guild politics come first.”

  “Lydia—”

  “We were supposed to be partners, remember? Partners treat each other as equals. Partners keep each other informed.”

  “I kept you informed, damn it.”

  “You lied to me right from the start, London. First you tracked me down because you thought I’d stolen your lousy cabinet. Then you hired me to help you find it, but you neglected to mention that you were not only a ghost-hunter but a Guild boss.”

  “Ex-Guild boss.”

  “Once a guildman, always a guildman.”

  Without warning, icy anger enveloped him. “Once a tangler, always a tangler. I wasn’t the only one who didn’t lay all the cards on the table right at the start.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You had two objectives in this affair. You wanted to see Chester Brady’s killer caught, and you wanted to prove to yourself and everyone else that you could handle going back into the catacombs. You needed me to help you get the job done. You used me.”

  She was so outraged, she could hardly catch her breath. “You came to me, remember? You claimed you wanted to hire me, but all along you thought I’d stolen your stupid family heirloom. And then you had the gall to seduce me.”

  He was on his feet, reaching for her before she realized what was happening. His hands clamped around her arms. He hauled her up off the lounger as though she were weightless. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed little bursts of wild ghost energy. Flickers.

  Fuzz tumbled discreetly off her shoulder and vanished into the apartment.

  “There seems to be a misunderstanding here,” Emmett said, his voice dangerously soft. “I could have sworn that you were the one who seduced me.”

  “How dare you imply that I—”

  “That you used sex to manipulate me?”

  “That’s not true and you know it.”

  “Yeah? Then why did you seduce me?”

  “I did not seduce you,” she stormed.

  “What would you call it?”

  “We had sex, okay? It happens sometimes between two people who—” She broke off, unable to finish.

  “Between two people who are attracted to each other?” he suggested. “Is that what you were trying to say?”

  She seized on the only face-saving way out of what had become an extremely hazardous quagmire. “Yes. Yes. It was just sex.”

  “Not a deliberate seduction.”

  “No.” She wondered if there was a difference, but decided that this was not the time to go into the issue. “It just happened.”

  He lowered his mouth until it was only an inch above hers. “It was pretty good sex, though, wasn’t it?”

  Her mouth went dry. “That is beside the point.”

  “I don’t think this argument has a point. Not one that’s worth pursuing, at any rate. Let’s get back to the sex.”

  “Just like a man, to try to use lust to avoid having to discuss a relationship—I mean, to avoid having to talk about a business association.”

  “Uh-uh.” He did not sound particularly interested. His attention seemed
to be focused entirely on her mouth. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t want to talk about anything right now.”

  The telltale flickers had disappeared, but she could still feel energy crackling in the air. She was afraid that some of it was emanating from her. She swallowed.

  “Emmett?” He was so close she could feel the heat in him. She tried to ignore it. “Sex is not enough.”

  “You may not trust me completely, but we made a damn good team down there in the catacombs. That counts for something.”

  He kissed her before she could summon a response. For a moment she hesitated, trying in vain to marshal further arguments. But it was too late. Much too late.

  “You’re right,” she said against his mouth. “That counts for something.”

  He scooped her up and carried her indoors. She closed her eyes and did not open them until he lowered her onto the bed.

  He jerked at the buttons of his shirt, flinging the garment aside. Then his hands went to his belt buckle. She watched him undress, aware of the shimmering excitement coiling deep inside her.

  He was big, sleek and fully aroused. The heat in his eyes was hotter than melted amber. When he came down onto the bed and gathered her into his arms, she knew that she was very likely stepping into an illusion trap, possibly the most dangerous one she had ever encountered.

  But this was no alien nightmare. This was a dream of another kind. She had made her decision. She would revel in it as long as possible.

  And then his hands were on her and she stopped thinking about anything except the sensations that caressed her entire body. Sensual energy swirled through her as his fingers moved on her. She felt herself become hot and damp. She turned her head into his chest and kissed him, inhaling the scent of him.

  And then he was on top of her, his weight crushing her into the depths of the bed. He reached down to draw her knees up alongside his thighs, making a place for himself between her legs.

  He forged into her slowly, giving her time to adjust to him but allowing no room for retreat. Not that she wanted to pull back, she thought. She had never craved anything in her life the way she craved Emmett tonight.

  She sank her nails into the muscles of his back and tightened her knees around him. He made a husky, unintelligible sound and pushed himself deeper inside, filling her completely.

  He kissed her again, his mouth at once demanding and desperate. She understood the strange combination because she was experiencing the same driving need. She had to have him, had to find the release that only he could provide. She clutched at him, drawing him closer.

  He moved deliberately within her, withdrawing until he was almost free and then sliding heavily back inside. The pressure became more than she could bear. She knew that his control was close to shattering. His back was slick with perspiration.

  “Yes,” she whispered, clenching him tightly. “Yes, now.” She lifted herself against him.

  “Lydia.”

  He plunged back into her one more time. Her climax swept through her with shattering intensity. She was vaguely aware of the great, wracking shudders rippling through Emmett. She parted her lips on a small scream, felt his mouth cover hers, and then spun away into a darkness made brilliant with sparkling dreamstone.

  He opened his eyes a long time later and looked up at the ceiling. Lydia was curled snugly against him. She felt very good. He was intensely aware of her warmth and softness. She did not speak, but he knew she was awake.

  “You were right,” he said. “I didn’t tell you everything.”

  “No kidding.” But there was no anger left in her voice, only a wry resignation.

  “There were reasons,” he said slowly. “The Guilds are changing, but it’s going to take time. Old habits die hard.”

  “I know.” She groaned and stretched languidly. “I can’t blame you for keeping secrets. You had to protect Quinn, and you were right when you said that I had my own agenda in this thing. We used each other.”

  He felt his jaw tighten. “It was a partnership. Maybe we didn’t tell each other everything right up front, but that doesn’t mean we weren’t partners.”

  “I vote we don’t argue about it anymore, Emmett. I don’t think either of us can win. Besides, it’s over.”

  “Not quite,” he said.

  She went very still. After a moment she raised her head and looked down at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He hesitated. This was Guild business, after all. Very serious Guild business. But he knew he had already made the decision. She had a right to be in on the finish.

  “There’s one other loose end to tie up,” he said.

  29

  THIS IS GUILD business.” Tamara Wyatt turned away from the study window. The movement of her head caused her amber earrings to catch the morning sun. They glowed a dark yellow gold. “Whatever it is you have to say to us, Emmett, it should be kept within the Guild. There is no reason to involve Miss Smith.”

  During the drive to Mercer Wyatt’s mansion in the hills, Lydia had promised herself that she would keep her mouth shut and allow Emmett to handle this. It was his show, after all. But listening to Tamara talk about her as if she weren’t in the room was too much. She consigned her vow of silence to the garbage.

  “I disagree, Mrs. Wyatt,” she said briskly. “In the course of this mess, a friend of mine was murdered, as was a business acquaintance named Bartholomew Greeley. A young boy was ruthlessly terrorized by a rogue ghost-hunter. On top of everything else, my apartment was scorched.”

  Tamata whirled to face her. “The Cadence Guild is not responsible for any of those things.”

  Emmett looked at her. “Wrong, Tamara. The Cadence Guild was involved.”

  “Can you prove it?” Mercer Wyatt demanded coldly.

  Emmett held up the folder he had brought with him. “I may not have evidence that will stand up in a court of law, but I think I’ve got enough to convince you. And when it comes to Guild matters, that’s all it takes, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Mercer said steadily. “Convincing me is all that is required.”

  Tamara looked at Emmett. “If you actually have proof that someone in the Cadence Guild was responsible for what was going on at the youth shelter, you should discuss it privately with Mercer. He will deal with it. I still say Miss Smith has no business here.”

  “Too bad,” Lydia said. “Miss Smith is here, and she’s not leaving until this is over.”

  A soft, discreet knock on the door interrupted Tamara before she could argue further.

  “Come in,” Mercer ordered.

  The door opened. Lydia turned to see an earnest-looking man walk into the study.

  “Miss Smith,” Mercer said quietly, “allow me to introduce Denver Galbraith-Thorndyke. Denver is the administrator of the Guild Foundation. Denver, this is Lydia Smith.”

  Denver inclined his head in a polite nod. “Miss Smith.” He turned back to Mercer with a quizzical expression. “I got a message that you wanted to see me, sir.”

  “Emmett, here, has some questions for you concerning our Foundation grants.” Mercer looked at Emmett.

  Denver followed his glance. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and smiled slightly. “Yes, Mr. London?”

  Emmett did not move from his position near the bookcase. “You told me you ran a thorough background check on Helen Vickers before you funded the programs at the Transverse Wave Youth Shelter.”

  “That’s right,” Denver said. “Why? Is there a problem?”

  “Yes.” Emmett tossed the file folder down onto the nearest table. “There is a problem. I had my people in Resonance run a check on her, too. They turned up several interesting facts. Ten years ago Helen Vickers was involved in an underground excavation disaster. No charges were brought, but two people died and a valuable artifact went missing. The surviving members of the team blamed Vickers.”

  “Good Lord.” Denver stared at him. “I found no such information on Miss Vickers.”

  “Sh
e was using a different name at the time,” Emmett said. “You should have found it. My people did within twenty-four hours.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There’s more,” Emmett continued. “Two years ago the original founder of the Transverse Wave Youth Shelter, Anderson Ames, died in a mysterious fire. Helen Vickers was his sole heir.”

  Denver drew himself up. “Are you implying that I failed to do a proper in-depth background investigation on Miss Vickers before I authorized funding for the shelter?”

  “No,” Emmett said. “I think you did a very good background investigation.”

  His icy voice sent a shiver through Lydia. This was the shadowy, mysterious Emmett London who had once held the Resonance Guild in an iron grip, the man who had single-handedly transformed it. Ryan had told her that this Emmett London had made enemies along the way. She could well believe it.

  “I think you discovered everything that my people turned up and more,” Emmett said to Denver. “You had plenty of time to dig deep, and that’s just what you did, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re implying, but I certainly have no intention of listening to these wild accusations,” Denver said tightly.

  “Yes,” Mercer said, “you do.”

  Tamara looked at him. “I don’t understand. What is this all about?”

  “All in due time, my dear,” Mercer said. “All in due time.”

  Emmett contemplated Denver. “You realized that Vickers, whatever else she was, was no model of selfless altruism. So you did a little more investigating, didn’t you?”

  Denver clenched his hands into fists. He was trembling visibly now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You learned that she and the man who calls himself Bob Matthews were old lovers. Somehow you uncovered their hole-in-the wall dreamstone excavation project. My guess is that, acting anonymously, you blackmailed them into cutting you in for a piece of the action. In return, you promised to keep funding the shelter and to keep the Guild off their backs.”

  “This is outrageous! How dare you insinuate such things?”

  “You took charge of the entire operation—anonymously, of course,” Emmett said. “I’m sure Vickers and Matthews are already trying to tell their lawyers about the mysterious blackmailer, but no one will take them seriously. After all, there’s no proof. You kept your own hands very clean.”