A Storm of Passion

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Then what’s it like, boo, because you coming in here saying you need a distraction kinda leads me down that road.” He stared at the shower curtain where he could see her shadow on the other side. It was the strangest way to be having a conversation, not one he was exactly good with.

  The water was beating down on his shoulders as he stood with his hands at his hips, keeping his secrets out of sight the same way Cady was on the other side of the cheap white vinyl keeping hers.

  His were of a physically personal nature; he didn’t hang it out for everyone to see. But her own package of mysteries was obviously pretty damn heavy. After all, it had sent her seeking refuge in a steamy wet bathroom when she had a perfectly comfortable bed to hide out in.

  King leaned into the spray, rinsed the shampoo from his hair, the soapy water from his face, neck, and chest. He was clean and ready to get out, but he was also butt naked, and she was standing between him and his towel.

  Except standing wasn’t exactly the right word. Even through the curtain he could see her nervous movements, pacing, rocking, leaning over the sink and talking into her hands instead of to him.

  He’d had enough. “Cady, either talk to me or get out so I can get out.”

  “I can’t go back out there.”

  Then talk it was. “Because?”

  “I just can’t. In the city, I felt safe. The incident with Alice aside,” she added. “In the city, I was just another nameless person in the crowd. It was easy to stay out of sight, lost, bland, blending in.”

  She was not bland. She was anything but. “And somehow that all changed with me taking you home.”

  “That place is not my home.”

  No, but it used to be. She had a lot of history there. Was standing out now what was bothering her? “You think the gossip mill is all churned up with tales of your face meeting your mother’s fist?”

  “It’s not the tales and the gossip that scare me.”

  Scared? That’s what she was feeling? He would’ve thought something like rejected, dejected. Embarrassed. Any one seemed more in order. “Then what scares you?”

  “That after all these years, they’re finally going to catch me. And kill me when they do.”

  Okay, now this was getting spooky weird, but the thing about feeling safer sharing a room? If she thought someone was after her, it made sense. Made him glad, too, he’d kept his gun close. At least until he knew more.

  Like whether she had a real reason to be frightened. Or whether she was some kind of schizo whack job. “They? Who is they?”

  It took her several seconds to respond. He sensed her move again, lean back against the wall beside the door. “I don’t know their names, or even who they are except for being friends of the guys who went away for Kevin’s murder.”

  Real enough. So far. “And you think they’re after you?”

  “They’ve been after me since the trial.”

  There were a dozen things he wanted to ask, all related to wondering why she was still living here in this part of the country when she had no ties. Why, if there was a legitimate threat, had she not found out who they were and filed a restraining order?

  But her fear was immediate, her need for a diversion urgent enough to bring her in here while he showered. He ended up asking, “And you think they’re here? Now?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just…When I looked out the window, I saw a truck idling behind yours, then rolling forward slowly and stopping as if searching for our room. Or searching for me.”

  He didn’t want to discount what she was feeling, or ignore what she thought she’d seen. But he’d been the one driving, and nothing about the traffic around them had struck him as strange or hostile.

  No, he hadn’t been on the lookout for a tail or had any reason to be, but those early years behind bars had left him with a good pair of eyes in the back of his head.

  As far as he knew, they were still working, and they hadn’t seen a thing. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  She bit off some not so nice words. “You’re sure I’m hallucinating? Is that it?”

  Women. Twist and turn everything a man said. “No, I’m sure you saw what you saw.”

  “But until you see it for yourself, then it doesn’t count.”

  “I didn’t say that either.”

  “You didn’t have to. You don’t believe me.”

  What he believed was that they weren’t going to get anywhere with this barrier between them.

  He shut off the water, grabbed his wet rag and held it with one hand in the most strategic of locations, then whipped the curtain out of the way and met her gaze.

  The hooks clattered the length of the rod, and Cady jumped, her eyes going wide as she took him in in all of his Garden of Eden glory.

  Then a smile teased one corner of her mouth upward, and a knowing brow followed suit. “Nice fig leaf.”

  He glared, moved his other hand to his hip to secure the terry cloth from both sides. “I can’t talk to you when I’m naked and you’re not.”

  “Are you saying you want me to take off my clothes?”

  That hadn’t been the response he was after, but now that she’d brought it up…“If you’re not up for doing that, then I’m going to put mine on. You can stay and watch, or stay and help, or you can turn your back until I’m dried off and dressed. And we can pick up this conversation then.”

  She’d lost a bit of her smirk during his speech, and though she hadn’t run screaming out of the bathroom, he wouldn’t be surprised if she turned and did.

  He wasn’t much to look at as it was, but dripping wet and naked save for his terry cloth fig leaf—the rag itself growing wetter with all the dripping going on—he could scare the chocolate out of an M&M candy shell.

  So it left him feeling strangely naked and vulnerable when she was slow to reach for the handle, and even slower to open the door, leaving him behind with an expression he swore was tinged with regret.

  And don’t miss Cynthia Eden’s ETERNAL HUNTER, in stores next month from Brava…

  She reached into her bag and pulled out a check. Not the usual way things were handled in the DA’s office, but…“I’ve been authorized to acquire your services.” He didn’t glance at the check, just kept those blue eyes trained on hers. Her fingers were steady as she held the check in the air between them “This check is for ten thousand dollars.”

  No change of expression. From the looks of his cabin, the guy shouldn’t have been hesitating to snatch up the money.

  “Give the check to Night Watch.”

  At that, her lips firmed. “I already gave them one.” A hefty one, at that. “This one’s for you. A bonus from the mayor—he wants this guy caught, fast.” Before word about the true nature of the crime leaked too far.

  “So old Gus doesn’t think his cops can handle this guy?”

  Gus LaCroix. Hard-talking, ex-hard drinking mayor. No nonsense, deceptively smart, and demanding. “He’s got the cops on this, but he said he knew you, and that you’d be the best one to handle this job.”

  Erin strongly suspected that Gus belonged in the Other world. She hadn’t caught any scent that was off drifting from him, but his agreement to bring in Night Watch and his almost desperate demands to the DA had sure indicated the guy knew more than he was letting on about the situation.

  Could be he was a demon. Low-level. Many politicians were.

  Jude took the check. Finally. She dropped her fingers, fast, not wanting the flesh on flesh contact with him. Not then.

  He folded the check and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Guess you just got yourself a bounty hunter.”

  “And I guess you’ve got yourself one sick shifter to catch.”

  He closed the distance between them, moving fast and catching her arms in a strong grip.

  Aw, hell. It was just like before. The heat of his touch swept though her, waking hungers she’d deliberately denied for so long.

/>   Jude was sexual. From his knowing eyes. His curving, kiss-me lips, to the hard lines and muscles of his body.

  Deep inside, in the dark, secret places of her soul that she fought to keep hidden, there was a part of her just like that.

  Wild. Hot.

  Sexual.

  “Why are you afraid of me?”

  Not the question she’d expected, but one she could answer. “I know what you are. What sane woman wouldn’t be afraid of a man who becomes an animal?”

  “Some women like a little bit of the animal in their men.”

  “Not me.” Liar.

  His eyes said the same thing.

  “Do your job, Donovan. Catch the freak who cut up my prisoner—”

  “Like Bobby had been slashing his victims?”

  Hit. Yeah, there’d been no way to miss that significance.

  “When word gets out about what really happened, some folks will say Bobby deserved what he got.” His fingers pressed into her arms. Erin wore a light silk shirt—and even that seemed too hot for the humid Louisiana spring night. His touch burned through the blouse and seemed to singe her flesh.

  “Some will say that,” she allowed. Okay, a hell of a lot would say that. “But his killer still has to be caught.” Stopped, because she had the feeling this could be just the beginning.

  Her feelings about death weren’t often wrong.

  She was a lot like her dad that way.

  And, unfortunately, like her mother, too.

  “What do you think? Did he deserve to be clawed to death?”

  An image of Bobby’s ex-wife, Pat, flashed before her eyes. The doctors had put over one hundred and fifty stitches into her face. She’d been his most brutal attack.

  Erin swallowed. “His punishment was for the court to decide.” She stepped back, but he didn’t let her go. “Uh, do you mind?”

  “Yeah, I do.” His eyes glittered down at her. “If we’re gonna be working together, we need honesty between us.”

  “We need you to find the killer.”

  “Oh, I will. Don’t worry about that. I always catch my prey.”

  So the rumors claimed. The hunters from Night Watch were known throughout the U.S.

  “You’re shivering, Erin.”

  “No, no, I’m not.” She was.

  “I make you nervous. I scare you.” A pause. His gaze dropped to her lips, lingered, then slowly rose back to meet her stare. “Is it because I know what you are?”

  She wanted his mouth on hers. A foolish desire. Ridiculous. Not something the controlled woman wanted, but what the wild thing inside craved. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Don’t I?”

  Erin jerked free of his hold and glared at him. “Few things in this world scare me. You should know that.” There was one thing, one person, who terrified her—but now wasn’t the time for that disclosure. No, she didn’t tell anyone about him.

  If she could just get around Jude and march out of that door—

  “Maybe you’re not scared of me, then. Maybe you’re scared of yourself.”

  She froze.

  “Not human,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Not vamp.”

  Vamp? Thankfully, no.

  “Djinn? Nah, you don’t have that look.” His right hand lifted and he rubbed his chin. “Tell me your secrets, sweetheart, and I’ll tell you mine.”

  “Sorry, not the sharing type.” She’d wasted enough time here. Erin pushed past him, ignoring the press of his arm against her side. Her body ached and the whispers of hunger within her grew more demanding every moment she stayed with him.

  Weak.

  She hated her weakness.

  Just like her mother’s.

  “You’re a shifter.” His words stopped her near the door. She stared blankly at the faded wood. Heard the dull thud of her heart echoing in her ears.

  Then the soft squeak of the old floorboards as he closed the distance between them.

  Erin turned to him, tilted her head back—

  He kissed her.

  She heard a growl. Not from him—no, from her own throat.

  The hunger.

  Sure, he made the first move, he brought his lips crashing down on hers, but…she kissed him right back.

  BRAVA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

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  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2009 Theresa J. Brisbin

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

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  ISBN: 0-7582-5024-X