Bad Boys of the Night: Eight Sizzling Paranormal Romances: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

by Jennifer Ashley

  “Think we could open some windows?” he asked, turning away. “It’s hot in here.”

  And obviously, miserly Caroline hadn’t ever put in air conditioning.

  The storm had picked up momentum in the short time they’d been there, but it hadn’t brought cooler temperatures. Still, it had to be better than the stale and stifling air inside.

  “They don’t open,” Jonathan said calmly.

  Doubtful, Reilly tried anyway, but none of them budged. Frustrated, he brushed the dust from his hands when a loud whirring came an instant before the feel of air blowing through a vent.

  Air-conditioning. Miracles did happen. He found the thermostat by the swinging door. It seemed anachronistic in its surroundings, but Reilly was relieved it existed at all. He laughed when he saw the control fixed at ninety-five. Leave it to Carolina Beck to install air, but refuse to keep it turned low enough to cool.

  “Do you mind?” he asked, not caring if Jonathan did. He moved the lever to sixty-five, knowing she’d go nuts when she found out, but too hot to care. Sorry, Carolina, but this is hard enough without being steamed alive.

  He turned around just as the front door burst open and Gracie Beck, two dogs the size of ponies, and a third drenched ball of fur, blew into the room. Reilly’s heart stuttered to a stop as he stared at the woman he’d never been able to forget, no matter how hard he’d tried. And he had. Every damn day since he’d lost her.

  She’d always been small—even before he’d filled out and shot up to his six-two height, the top of her head had barely reached his chin. She still was, but age had rounded the sharp angles of her shoulders, added fullness to her breasts, smoothed the slope to her waist. She wore khaki capris that followed the curve of her legs and a black T-shirt that had been dampened by the rain. He could just make out the faint outline of a lace bra. It drew his gaze and started a slow burn from a spark that had never really gone out.

  Her soft brown hair was drawn back in a ponytail, but a few wisps escaped to frame her face. Her eyes were still storm-cloud gray, overflowing with the kind of secrets that drove a man insane with wanting to know. But gone was the cocky defiance that had marked Gracie Beck from the cradle. Gone was the devil-may-care smile that had teased him into wet dreams as a teen. In its place was a somberness that had no place on a mouth so soft.

  A feeling welled up inside him, as powerful as the winds buffeting the house, as deep as the pitted crevices in the dried-up springs. A longing to touch her, to cup her face and taste her lips, to press his nose to her temple and breathe her in. It caught him unaware and put him on guard. Wary, he braced for her to notice him, too.

  She scanned the room quickly, eyes widening as they moved from one stranger to another while he waited with tension knotting inside him.

  “What ...” she began, and then her gaze found him and her words faded away.

  Their eyes locked and held. Confusion turned hers silver and made him want to charge across the room while at the same time urging him to run in the opposite direction. She took a hesitant step forward, as if she couldn’t help herself. He did, too, pulled by the same insane compulsion.

  “What ...” she said again, and then suddenly her eyes shuttered and she stiffened. “What are you doing here?”

  Moment lost, Reilly allowed himself a breath of relief. Only relief was hell and gone from how he really felt. “Good to see you, too, Gracie.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Gracie had driven across the desert at breakneck speeds, thinking of nothing but Analise. Now she was here, expecting to see Eddie Rodriguez waiting with her contrite daughter nearby. She’d never thought she’d find Reilly Alexander instead.

  “What are you doing in my grandmother’s house?” she demanded, staring at the man who’d destroyed her life with as much dignity as she could muster while wrestling two Great Danes on leashes and holding one wet Yorkie in her arms. “Where are Eddie and my daughter?”

  “Eddie Rodriguez?” Reilly said, shock widening his pretty eyes, reminding her of the boy she’d fallen in love with so long ago. The boy who’d promised to sweep her away and care for her forever. The boy who’d knocked her up and then disappeared with her hopes and dreams.

  He was a man now. Taller, broader through the shoulders and chest, bigger all around. She’d never forget those hazel eyes, though, or the face of the man who’d hurt her so badly she’d thought she’d never recover.

  What was he doing here? And where was Eddie with her daughter?

  She gave the dogs a sharp command to sit and put Romeo down next to them before pulling out her cell phone and hitting the last number dialed to reach Eddie. She’d talked to him a half hour ago and he’d said he’d be at the Diablo with Analise by the time she got here.

  As the phone rang, she took in her surroundings. Nothing looked the same as it had when she’d lived there with her grandmother seventeen years ago. Not the furniture, the pictures, the curtains. Not the strangers crowded inside, either. She tried to sort through her confusion as she stared at the clustered group of people. A man who looked as if he’d neglected to remove his Dracula costume after Halloween; an older, dark-skinned woman wearing an African turban and tunic. Hanging back stood a priest wearing dingy white gloves and rounding out the group was an older man with silver at the temples, wearing a gray sweater with leather patches at the elbows. He must be Jonathan, the caretaker Eddie said her grandmother had finally hired. He’d described him as distinguished looking, in a seedy kind of way. The man seemed to fit the bill.

  At their fringes stood Reilly Alexander. Her heart stuttered at the sight of him.

  Eddie’s phone kept ringing in her ear, but headlights shot through the windows and climbed the walls. Gracie hit the “end” button and hurried to the porch as Eddie Rodriguez got out of a police car and ran around to the other side. Sheltering his passenger from the rain, he hurried them both up to where Gracie waited. When he lowered the umbrella, Analise stepped forward into her mother’s waiting arms.

  Gracie cried as she embraced her only child, mumbling words that didn’t need to make sense as they held one another.

  “She’s fine, Gracie,” Eddie said, patting her shoulder awkwardly. “Dr. Graebel checked her out. She has a bump on her head and she’s shook up, but no permanent damage. He thinks the boy will be okay, too.”

  The boy?

  “Brendan?” she asked, pulling back to see Analise’s face. “Brendan brought you here? Why?”

  “He thought I’d like it,” Analise mumbled, wiping at her tears. She looked pale and Gracie suspected she was in shock.

  “He’s still at Dr. Graebel’s?” Gracie asked Eddie.

  “Yeah. He isn’t conscious yet, so the doc wants to keep overnight, but he says he doesn’t think it’s serious. Thinks the boy will be coming around soon.”

  “Mom,” Analise said, looking around. “Who are all these people?”

  Analise brushed her hair back from her face and scanned the cluster of strangers, giving Reilly his first clear look at her face. Gracie froze with dread, wanting to shove Analise behind her and race for the door, but a train was already barreling through the tunnel and at any moment, it would jump the tracks. There was no way to stop it, just as there was no way in hell Reilly could look at his daughter and not recognize her for who she was.

  The blood drained from his face and his mouth fell open. Uncomfortable with his fixed stare, Analise shifted and looked away. Fortunately, she hadn’t made the connection yet, but Gracie wouldn’t be able to keep it from her now. Scared, angry, and uncertain about what came next, Gracie lifted her chin and met the incredulous gaze that swung her way.

  Eddie had been scribbling on a notebook he carried. Now he looked up just as the woman in the turban stepped forward.

  “We have reservations,” she said with a smile, oblivious to the turmoil churning among Gracie, Reilly, and their confused daughter. She looked anxious as she went on. “Mr. Stevens assured us our rooms are ready.”

&nb
sp; “Reservations?” Eddie repeated like it was a foreign concept. His gaze moved suspiciously through the room until it landed on Reilly. He gave a bark of laughter, finally wrenching Reilly’s gaze away from Gracie.

  Reilly and Eddie had known each other most of their lives, but it still bothered Gracie when Eddie pulled him into an embrace and patted him soundly on the back. “Son of a bitch. Never thought I’d seen you here. How the hell are you?”

  Reilly made a sound that wasn’t quite laughter and stepped back. “I could use a drink.”

  So could Gracie.

  “What the hell are you— You with these guys?” Eddie asked.

  The suspicion was back in his voice. Good.

  “No,” Reilly answered at the same time the woman said, “Yes.”

  She smiled again, her turbaned head bobbing. “Nathan is looking for his next story,” she said. “He thinks he’ll find it here.”

  Eddie’s eyes narrowed at that. “What makes you think so, Reilly?”

  With a sick feeling in her stomach, Gracie tucked Analise against her and waited for Reilly to answer. He’d come for a story? Had he heard about Grandma Beck’s death and decided to sensationalize it? She wouldn’t put it past him.

  “Time out,” Reilly said, making a T with his hands. “Rewind. They”—he jerked his thumb at the small group—“are the story. Seriously, look at them.”

  Only the priest appeared to be offended by the comment. Jonathan cleared his throat to draw attention and then greeted Eddie with a friendly smile. Eddie returned it with a curt nod.

  “Ms. Lamont is correct. These people reserved their rooms a few days ago. Carolina took the reservation herself.”

  Gracie let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Ms. Lamont, but you’ll need to find other accommodations. My grandmother died tonight. The Diablo isn’t available for guests anymore.”

  “Carolina’s dead?” Reilly exclaimed in a deep voice. “Are you serious?”

  “Your grandma died?” Analise cried. “Tonight?”

  Cursing her own stupidity for blurting that out in front of Analise, Gracie pulled her closer.

  Eddie nodded, confirming it. “We found her body out by the ruins.”

  “By the ruins?” Analise said. “But ...”

  Reilly looked like he was having as hard a time processing everything as Gracie and Analise. He gave Chloe Lamont a hard, accusing look and the old woman stared serenely back, but deep within the black wells of her eyes, Gracie could swear she saw satisfaction.

  Disturbed, Gracie shifted her gaze to Reilly.

  “I’m sorry about your grandmother, Gracie,” he told her. “I didn’t know.”

  “I did,” Chloe said.

  Gracie’s jaw dropped. “What does that—”

  “Ms. Lamont is a spiritual woman,” the man who looked like Dracula said. “She communes with the dead.”

  “We’ve been studying Diablo Springs for some time now,” Chloe offered, her voice clear and strong, tinged with a compassion that seemed misplaced, considering the fact that she was a complete stranger. “There’s a psychic phenomenon here that’s beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s incredible, really. Like a vibration. I’m surprised even you can’t feel it.”

  The “even you” comment was the last straw. Gracie was too tired to even feign politeness. “For the love of God,” she said in disgust. “I’m sorry, but you and your friends will have to leave.”

  Chloe’s eyes widened. “Miss Beck, I understand you’re upset, but you can’t turn us away in the middle of the night. In a storm, no less.”

  “I’m afraid I can.”

  “We’ve already paid.”

  “I’ll give you a refund.”

  “Gracie,” Eddie said beneath his breath. “Take a look out the window. At least let them stay until morning. It’s only a few hours.”

  Gracie narrowed her eyes at him before turning back to woman.

  “Check the books,” Chloe insisted. “I’m sure you’ll find everything in order.”

  The leather-bound book Grandma Beck had always used to record the comings and goings of the Diablo’s temporary residents was on the entry table, just like always. Gracie traced her fingers over the word Ledger on the bright blue cover, thinking of the aged brown ledger she’d seen in her grandma’s hands just before Eddie called.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, Gracie opened it to the page marked with a strip of red ribbon.

  The entry was dated and written in Grandma Beck’s scrawl. Bill Barnes, four rooms. Beneath that, in small block letters: Paid in advance. Check with bank. Wire transfer??? Full price.

  Damn it, they’d been telling the truth. Reluctantly, she faced the group watching her. “Who is Bill Barnes?”

  Dracula stepped forward. Surely not?

  “She wouldn’t take a credit card, so I had Bill wire the payment to her bank account,” Chloe said. “She was very suspicious about it.”

  “Why didn’t you just pay her when you got here?”

  “Because I knew you’d throw us out if all the accounts weren’t settled.”

  The old woman’s dark voice sent a chill through Gracie. She didn’t like Chloe Lamont. Not at all.

  “I still might.”

  “No, you won’t. Not in good conscience and you are a person guided by your conscience.”

  Gracie wanted to spite this woman and damn the consequences, but Chloe cut her off.

  “She called to us,” Chloe said softly. Again, Gracie heard that ring of compassion. “All the way across the desert, we heard her. All of us.”

  “All of you?” Eddie repeated, staring from one face to another.

  Reilly leaned against the wall, looking up as if wondering how he’d come to be here. Gracie wondered the same thing.

  “What do you have to say about this?” she demanded.

  The look Reilly gave her was hard and filled with accusation. As if he had the right to be angry with her. “Not a damned thing,” he answered.

  Bill Barnes touched Chloe lightly on the arm and murmured something in her ear. Chloe nodded. “You’re right, Bill.” She looked at Gracie. “We think it’s best if we discuss this in the morning.” She looked at Jonathan. “Would you be so kind as to tell us what rooms we’re in?”

  Gracie glared at her, wishing with all her might that she could tell them to take a hike, but thunder shook the house as the wind rattled the windows.

  And damn it to hell, Chloe was right. Gracie’s conscience guided her and she’d have to be heartless to send them out in this when she knew there wasn’t another place to stay for at least a hundred miles in any direction. She was too exhausted to be heartless tonight. But that didn’t mean she’d be nice.

  With a tight-lipped smile, Jonathan led the guests upstairs, leaving Gracie, her daughter, Eddie, and Reilly alone on the first floor.

  Feeling like the day had lasted forever, Gracie looked around. “Now, would someone please tell me what the hell happened here tonight?”

  CHAPTER 6

  May 1896

  Somewhere in Colorado

  The first scream carried across the plains like the howl of an October wind. It brought my head up and around. I was on all fours, trying to pull some deadwood free from a tangle of roots. As the sound settled around me, I perched up on my knees like a prairie dog to see over the waving sea of grass, but that didn’t help much. All I saw was more of the same.

  I though it must have been a crow or a buzzard I heard. There’d been plenty of each on the way, and I hated them both. In fact, today I hated just about everything and everyone.

  I’d been angry for days, ever since my daddy came home and said we were pulling up roots and running away. He hadn’t said “running,” but that’s what it was all the same. I wasn’t old enough to argue, but I was old enough to be mad about it. I hadn’t even gotten to say good-bye to Charlotte or Willie Johnson, who’d been acting like he might want to be more than friendly with me. Seventeen
was only old enough to do a woman’s share of chores, not speak my mind.

  The fact that we were running like cowards bothered me as much as anything. I’d begged my daddy not to testify in court about the holdup, but of course he didn’t listen. Men. The bank sure didn’t deserve his loyalty, but he’d given it all the same. And look how it had paid him back. Momma had tried to sway him, too, but then he’d become stubborn and decided that, as the man of the house, he’d say where and what and why things got done.

  We were five days from Alamosa now, and I still hadn’t forgiven him. I didn’t like walking day in and day out. My momma looked like she was carrying a litter of babies, though we both prayed just one would come out. Even though her ribs must have felt like they were ready to burst, Momma still took in the scenery like she’d been blessed to even step foot on God’s green earth. I couldn’t see it that way. Not when I was sleeping on the hard ground with bugs sure to be creeping and crawling over me all night and my bed at home as empty and neat as could be.

  I picked up another stick, shifting the bundle in my arms and giving myself a splinter in the process. That only spurred my anger.

  And then I heard the next scream.

  This time, there wasn’t any doubt. That was no bird. I rocked back on my heels, looking over the swaying seedpods toward our camp on the other side of the hill. The sun arced low in the sky, dragging shadows out with the wind. A gun fired, and an instant later a gray puff of smoke wafted upward.

  I scrambled to my feet, dropping the wood I’d been gathering as I raced without thought toward the sound. More gunshots cracked the dusky blue day, followed by a triumphant whoop of glee that made my blood run cold. Indians? Was it Indians?

  I dropped to my knees at the top of the hill and scooted forward to look over. My skirts tangled about my legs and ripped when I didn’t heed them. Belly flat to the earth, I peered down at our camp. Five men on horseback rode circles around it, firing pistols into the air just for the fun of it, I guessed. Not Indians. These were white men, men who looked like they’d not seen a bath for many years. They seemed to be playing a game of some sort, turning and riding and darting around. I couldn’t see beyond the wagon, though, to what was at the center of their sport. I cupped my hands to my eyes to block the glare of the setting sun and searched for my momma and daddy, grandma and brother. Had they gone to gather wood or hunt? Were these bandits robbing us while they were gone? But even as I thought it, I recognized the flaw in my thinking. It was Momma I’d heard scream. I was sure of it.