The District

by Carol Ericson

  “Before.” He took her hand and toyed with her fingers. “He’s pretty old. Do you really think it could’ve been him?”

  “Maybe the stiff posture is all an act.”

  “I doubt it. Would help if we could locate Uma. She’s the one who told you to go out back.”

  “What about the guy you thought was Darius?”

  “Never got a good look at him. I think he left at the break, too.”

  “I don’t think any of those people necessarily want to help. It’s like they’re giving their tacit approval of the decimation of this coven.” Her gaze slid to the back of the driver’s head, but the radio and the street noise from his open window kept him oblivious to their conversation.

  “Why would they want innocent people hurt? Unless...” He rubbed the scruff on his chin with his knuckles. “...they’re not so innocent.”

  “By all accounts, Nora was a sweet girl.”

  “All accounts or just Libby’s? Nora worked for her. Do you think Nora would discuss her penchant for black magic with her employer?”

  “What about Liz Fielding?”

  “It’s in the report—junkie, former prostitute, petty thief.”

  “So, that makes her a devil worshipper?”

  “No, but she was no saint either.” Keeping possession of Christina’s hands, he turned to face her. “That meeting didn’t give us what we expected, but it did give us something. Someone thinks this coven is on the wrong track, and that someone has taken matters into his own hands.”

  Her hand wriggled from his grasp, and she pounded her chest with her palm. “But what about me? Why go after me?”

  “You came in wearing the symbol of your coven proudly.” He traced the circle with his nail. “What were they supposed to think?”

  “So the person who attacked me may not even be the killer or in with the killer. But why the formaldehyde? Were they expecting us?”

  The taxi shot across the tracks ahead of an oncoming cable car and squealed to a stop in front of their hotel.

  Eric paid the driver and grasped Christina by the shoulders before they went inside the hotel. “I don’t know if they were expecting us or not. I don’t know if the symbol on your car windshield and the near miss in the crosswalk were threats to you or warnings. But I think we need to dig a little deeper into the victims’ lives—not what they showed the public, but what they were doing behind closed doors.”

  When they got to their rooms, Eric followed Christina into hers.

  Eric wore a path from the window to the door, his hands clasped behind his neck. “What do you think this coven’s involved in?”

  Christina stretched out on the bed and toed off her shoes which fell to the floor with one clump and then another. “I don’t know.”

  She patted the bedspread beside. “You look so tense. Sit down.”

  He paused in midstride, dropping his arms to his sides. “I guess there’s nothing we can do about anything right now. I’ll add tonight’s festivities to my report. The cops are going to want to know why you didn’t report the attack.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t tell them.” She waved him over. “Let me work some of those knots out of your shoulders, and if you don’t mind, snag one of those bottles of wine from the minibar for me.”

  He crouched down in front of the minibar and selected a little bottle of white wine from the door. “Is this okay?”

  “I don’t care what it is. I just need something to take the edge off. Those people at the meeting alternated between boring and creepy. I’m so glad I didn’t sign up for that craziness.”

  “Did you ever have the opportunity?” He twisted the lid from the bottle and picked up a plastic cup. “I thought your mom put the brakes on that when you were a toddler.”

  “She did, but that didn’t stop Dad from checking in occasionally to see if I wanted training.”

  “Training?” He poured the wine for her and handed her the cup. Then he sat on the very edge of the bed.

  “According to my father, we come from a long line of very powerful brujos. He thought I was wasting my heritage.”

  “You have to be trained?”

  “Oh, sure, it’s like anything. The latent power or talent may be there, but if you don’t know how to develop it you’ll never reach your potential.”

  “Sort of like a school for witches?”

  “More like homeschooling.” She sipped the wine and closed her eyes as the warmth spread throughout her limbs. “Let’s give it a rest—for now.”

  She placed her cup on the nightstand and rubbed her hands together to warm them up. Skimming her fingers along the base of his neck, she asked, “Do you want me to give it a try?”

  His broad shoulders rolled forward. “Sure.”

  She dug her fingers into his warm flesh and kneaded. “Feel good?”

  “Feels great, but you’re the one who was slammed into a building tonight.”

  “My nerves are still a bit jumpy, but the wine will help with that.” She dug the heel of her hand into the top of his shoulder. “And don’t worry because I don’t make a habit out of self-medicating.”

  “I’m not worried. I can’t imagine you being addicted to anything.”

  Except you.

  Wasn’t the definition of addiction having a compulsion for something you knew was bad for you, but indulging anyway? That summed up how she was feeling right now.

  She knew Eric wanted her again. He said it with his touch, with his eyes, with his willingness to join her on the bed.

  But he wouldn’t be here if he knew the truth. Was it so wrong for her to enjoy one night with him before reality came crashing down around both of them?

  “Ouch!”

  “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “It hurt so much, it felt good.” He let out a long breath. “I don’t know how you have so much power in those long, thin fingers of yours.”

  Leaning over his shoulder, she flexed her fingers. “It’s magic.”

  He caught her wrists and pulled her onto his lap.

  She widened her eyes. “How am I going to massage your back from here?”

  “I have other body parts that are more in need of a massage.” He quirked his eyebrows up and down.

  She snorted. “Where did you learn that line?”

  “You mean, it didn’t work?”

  “Did I,” she said as she straddled his thighs and draped her arms around his neck, “say that?”

  He put his hands around her waist, pulling her closer. “I always was a smooth one with the lines.”

  The kiss he planted on her lips had the effect of ten glasses of wine as warmth flooded her body. She leaned into him, deepening the kiss, exploring his mouth with her tongue.

  It felt as if the two years they’d been apart had never happened. The taste of his mouth, the pressure of his thumbs on her rib cage, the way his beard scratched her chin—the feelings rushed back in, overwhelming her.

  He fell onto his back, whether from the enthusiasm of her embrace or his own desire to position her body on top of his, she didn’t know or care.

  Their legs dangled off the edge of the bed while their torsos met along every line. His hands swept beneath her blouse, spanning her bare back. He unhooked her bra, and then his fingers crept toward the waistband of her skirt. He felt for the zipper and slid it down.

  He rose to his elbows beneath her. “Can we stretch out on the bed so I don’t lose circulation in my legs?”

  She rolled from his body into the stack of pillows crunched against the headboard. “I don’t want you losing circulation anywhere.”

  Chuckling, he sat up and pulled off his motorcycle boots. Then he pulled his black T-shirt over his head and threw it over his shoulder.

  She crossed he
r arms behind her head and smacked her lips.

  “What am I, a piece of meat?”

  Her eyes roamed over his bare torso and zeroed in on the bulge in his tight jeans. “Mmm, yeah.”

  He grabbed her legs still hanging off the edge of the bed, and swung them around so that she was stretched out on top of the bedspread. Her skirt gaped open where he’d unzipped it before, and he pulled it over her hips and down her legs.

  She kicked it off. “Never liked that skirt anyway.”

  “I like it—off.” He ran his fingertip along the top band of her black thigh-high stockings. “These are kind of kinky.”

  “I can leave them in place if they turn you on.”

  “This,” he murmured as he rolled one stocking down over her thigh and calf and then pulled it off, “turns me on.”

  He gave the other stocking the same treatment. The bed dipped as he straddled her hips and fumbled with the buttons of her blouse.

  “You’d better take over before I pop these buttons.”

  She crossed her hands over her chest. “Now this blouse I like.”

  She unbuttoned each of the tiny pearl buttons until the blouse fell open. He’d already unhooked her bra and it lay across her breasts, barely covering them. She hoisted up to her elbows and shrugged out of the blouse and bra. She swept them off the bed with one impatient motion.

  His hands took the place of her bra as he cupped her breasts, running his thumbs across her peaked nipples.

  She watched him out of half-closed eyes, breathing in his scent. She’d never forgotten it. When he left her, he’d left a T-shirt behind in her laundry basket and she hadn’t washed that T-shirt for months. Slept in it even as her belly grew bigger with Kendall.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t think about the lie right now. Don’t think at all.

  He buried his face between her breasts and kissed the insides. “Some women have all the luck, don’t they?”

  “Like me? I am enjoying myself, but you’ve gotten a little cocky, haven’t you?”

  He swirled his tongue around one nipple, and she gasped.

  “I meant,” he said, touching his tongue to the tip of the other breast, “you’ve put on a little weight since I last saw you, but it went to all the right places. I’ve always loved your breasts, but now they’re lovable and luscious.”

  “I never realized you were such a breast man.”

  “I wasn’t—not until the precise moment I saw yours.”

  To emphasize his point, or maybe just to drive her crazy, he sealed his mouth over her right breast and suckled her.

  Her hips jerked up, and she moaned. “I think my younger, smaller breasts feel jealous.”

  He murmured something since he obviously didn’t want to release her. And she could totally live with that.

  She reached for the belt on his jeans. “Why do you even still have these on?”

  “Protection.” He laid a kiss on her mouth. “Did you always talk this much during sex?”

  “You’re the one analyzing my body parts.” She yanked on the buttons of his fly and thrust her hand into the gap. “Did any of your body parts get bigger in the past two years?”

  “Yeah, baby. Just you wait and see.”

  “I know your lines have gotten cornier.” She peeled his jeans from his narrow hips and tugged on his briefs. His erection filled her hand.

  She widened her eyes. “Oh, yes, much bigger than I remember.”

  “You don’t have to be sarcastic about it.” He staggered from the bed and pulled off his jeans and briefs, letting them drop to the floor. “One last item.”

  Hunching forward, he grabbed the waistband of her panties and yanked them down and off her body.

  She squirmed and reached out to him, wiggling her fingers. “You can’t just leave a girl naked without warming her up.”

  He fell on top of her heavily, and she accepted the weight of him, welcomed it.

  She wrapped her legs and arms around him as if to keep him in place.

  He showered kisses on her face. “I was such an idiot. I should’ve been doing this twenty-three months ago. Stupid pride.”

  She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think. Threading her fingers through his thick, wavy hair, she lifted her head to kiss his mouth. He sealed his body to hers even more, his erection probing her thigh.

  He growled in her ear. “Are you ready for me?”

  The ability to speak had escaped her, so she just nodded.

  “Let me see.”

  He inched down her body, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles and then thrust his tongue inside her.

  Gasping, she cradled his head with her thighs. And then the teasing began. He sucked her into his mouth, driving her to the edge of madness. Pulling back, he tested her with his fingers and she closed around him with a moan.

  His tongue circled her heated flesh again and she pumped her hips in encouragement. This time when his lips drew her into his mouth, she exploded.

  While her climax rocked her body, he drove into her, extending the exquisite pleasure that engulfed her. As their hips joined together, moved in unison, he buried his face into her neck.

  As his lips pressed against her throat, she could feel his bared teeth against her skin. She whispered, “Let go.”

  His body stiffened and then he plowed into her deeper and deeper, crying out his release, and she took all of him. She’d always take all of him.

  When her cell phone rang, it took her several seconds to recall where she was. Hell, it took her several seconds to recall who she was.

  Then the adrenaline pumped through her body. The phone.

  Eric growled, his voice muffled between her breasts. “It’s after midnight. Who’s calling you this late?”

  “I—I...” His body was still crushing hers and she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get to her phone.

  He reached it first, and the lighted display illuminated the scowl on his face. “Oh, my God. It’s your mother. And I was ready to go another round with you.”

  Christina huffed out choppy breaths. Kendall. It had to be Kendall.

  “Give it to me.” Her voice grated against her own ears, and Eric’s eyebrows shot up to the tousled lock of hair hanging across his forehead.

  He handed the phone to her, and shifted off her body.

  With trembling fingers, she tapped the phone to answer it. “Mom? What is it?”

  It must’ve been the quaver in her voice that made Eric’s head jerk up. Now he’d be listening to every word she said, and she couldn’t ask him to leave—not now.

  Her mother’s voice soothed on the other end. “I’m sorry to call you so late, but Kendall had a nightmare. You know—one of those nightmares.”

  “I-is she okay now?”

  “She’s shaky. I got her to stop crying, but only because I promised to call Mommy. She needs to hear your voice, Christina.”

  “Of course. Put her on.”

  “Mama.”

  “Hi, girly-girl. It was just a dream.”

  “I was scared, Mama. Where are you?”

  “I know they’re scary, but they’re just dreams. They can’t hurt you.”

  She could feel Eric’s eyes burning a hole in the side of her face.

  “Sleep with Mama.”

  “You can sleep with G-Ma. I’ll be home soon.” She made kissing noises into the phone. “I’m sending smooches to you.”

  “Got them.”

  Her mom came back on the phone. “She’s okay. She just needed to hear your voice. She’ll probably forget about it tomorrow.”

  “Was it the same nightmare?”

  “Same thing—people standing around chanting. Oh, she doesn’t call it chanting, but that’s what i
t sounds like to me.”

  Christina shivered. She’d heard enough chanting for one night.

  “Let Kendall sleep with you, Mom.”

  “I will, just like I did when you had nightmares.”

  Christina didn’t want to end the call and face Eric, but she didn’t have a choice. She cupped the dead phone between two hands and stared down at it.

  Eric’s low voice sounded a million miles away. “What was that all about? Who’s Kendall?”

  “Kendall’s my daughter.” He sucked in a quick breath, and she looked up finally to meet the green flame in his eyes. “And yours.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sledgehammer hit him between the eyes and he blinked. The room tilted. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

  Christina’s chest rose and fell, her eyes never leaving his, never flinching. Clear and full of truth for the first time since he saw her here.

  “How old?” He smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “She’s gotta be, what, two? Two and a half?”

  “Kendall’s two.”

  He clenched his jaw so hard it ached. “I was right about you in the first place, wasn’t I? You’re a liar, a deceiver.”

  Her dark eyes filled with tears, which rapidly rolled down her face. “You have to let me explain.”

  “Why?” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Why is it you’re always explaining yourself to me?”

  “Just let me...”

  “It’s late. I’m tired.” He scooped up his clothes from the floor and stalked to the adjoining door. He slammed it because it gave him something to do and made him feel better. Then he clicked the dead bolt, which made him feel even better.

  He dropped his clothes on the floor and fell across the bed. He had a daughter, a two-year-old daughter named Kendall.

  And Christina had kept her from him.

  The next morning he studied his face in the mirror above the bathroom vanity. He didn’t look any different. He didn’t look like a father.

  A million questions assailed his brain, and he didn’t want to speak to the one person who had all the answers. How long had she planned to keep him in the dark? Until Kendall was eighteen?