by Meg Allison
“We’re ready, Sam. Don’t worry, okay? Just finish getting ready for your party and try to relax. As luck would have it, we also have several extra officers ready for the big event, as well. All of them in appropriate costumes. I think Max is actually looking forward to it.”
She smiled. “And what are you both wearing?”
“Now that, my darling girl, is a secret.” Adam leaned over and placed a kiss on top of her head. Samantha sighed. If anyone could make her feel safe, it was her big brother.
So why the lingering doubt?
Chapter Thirteen
The last person Nathan expected at his door was Davu Johnson. Yet the man stood there in the dim hall, smiling back at him as he held two garment bags a foot above the floor.
“Just what I thought,” the man said without preamble and pushed past Nathan into the living room. “You aren’t ready to go. You probably don’t have an appropriate costume, do you? Of course, not. But I’m sure one of these will do nicely. The invitation specified a literary hero of some type, and that’s what we have here. I don’t care what Samantha’s brother, Eric, says. Zorro is, indeed, a hero of literature. Anyway, we’re nearly the same size, even though I have a few inches on you in height, I imagine, so one of these should fit you nicely.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The masquerade ball, of course,” Davu stated as he draped the black bags over the sofa back. “You, young man, will be my plus one, as they say.”
“Now wait just a damn–”
Davu waved a hand to silence him. “Not like that, for pity sake. We both enjoy women much too much for that. But since I am allowed a guest, and your invitation has been, um, shall we say misplaced? Therefore, you can go with me. That way we can be each other’s wingmen, as it were.”
“You are out of your mind if you think I’m crashing Sam’s big night.”
“You won’t be crashing–”
“She doesn’t want me there, Davu. She doesn’t want me anywhere near her and it isn’t a good idea to push the issue.” He walked past the other man to the love seat opposite the coffee table. “Besides, the police know the next target. They have everything under control and there’s no reason in the world for me to go to this thing unless it’s to let Samantha kick me in the teeth again. No, thank you.”
“Now listen to me, Nathan Toshio Quinn,” the use of his full name had Nathan gaping, “Drop the martyr act and suck it up. The police are good at what they do, but they are not infallible. None of us are. Samantha knows that better than anyone.”
“She thinks I’d hurt her,” he told the other man. “I didn’t mean to—she lost her balance and fell but—”
“Yes, I know. It was an accident in the heat of the moment. She knows that as well.”
Nathan shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s enough.”
“So, you found her sore spot––you lied and treated her like a child. She may have deserved it, who knows for sure? We had to figure things out before she got herself killed and she can be a stubborn girl––excuse me, a stubborn woman. But what’s done is done. Now it’s time for you two to mend the bridge and quit acting like moping adolescents.”
Nathan sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. The man had a point. “You’re right.”
“Of course, I am,” Davu replied as he pulled garments from the bags and held them up by shiny metal hangers for Nathan’s perusal. “Now which do you prefer? Zorro or James Bond?”
“Huh?”
Davu shook his head and waved the clothing with a flourish. “Costumes, my dear boy, which do you prefer?”
“Hell, I don’t know.”
The other man made a disgusted sound before thrusting a long, black cape at him. “Fine, put this one on and don’t dawdle. We’ll be late for the ball.”
* * ‡ * *
Samantha twisted the long folds of her Spanish style scarf as she gazed around the room. So far everything seemed to be running smoothly. That, in itself, was enough reason for her to worry. At this point, there should have been at least three minor crises met, handled and diverted. But nothing had gone awry. Nothing.
She chewed her bottom lip and jumped at a hand on her arm.
“Calm down, Princess,” Javed soothed in his deep, throaty growl of a voice. He sounded annoyed as hell. Which was good. Samantha was itching for a fight.
“Don’t sneak up on a person.”
“I was not sneaking,” he insisted as he shoved a glass of something red in her direction and waited.
“Thank you,” she murmured before taking the wine. His callused fingers brushed against hers and sent a tingle up her arm. Samantha felt the blush coming and cursed to herself. She hated being so damn transparent to any man, especially the thick-headed shifter. Then as heat flooded her cheeks, Javed’s full mouth slowly turned into a wicked grin and she lost it.
“Just shut the hell up, okay?” she insisted before swallowing a mouthful of the wine. She almost spewed it back out again it was so damn sweet. “I am in no mood to deal with your overinflated ego tonight, believe me.”
He looked away, but the smirk remained. “I didn’t say a word, Princess.”
“You…” she took another long draw from her glass, swallowed, and continued, “You men are all alike. You in your pirate costume, and Nathan over there pretending I can’t see him behind that stupid Zorro mask. You think you’re the greatest things since sliced bread and wi-fi. You can do no wrong, can you? Every woman should just fall at your feet and wait their turn in your bed. Well, let me tell you something, Panther Boy, no sane, self-respecting woman would want anything to do with any of you.”
Javed’s gaze snapped back to her face, his good eye as dark as pitch. A slight flicker of doubt washed over her. Maybe she’d gone a bit too far? Samantha felt the blood drain away this time and took a hasty step backward.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he said and snatched the empty glass from her fingers. His amused smile had twisted into a mean, hard line. “I was going to let you off easy tonight, Princess. But now you owe me a dance or two.”
* * ‡ * *
Nathan stared from the sidelines as the beautiful redhead stood toe to toe with the tall, dark pirate. He clenched his teeth together hard as Javed’s hand went to her hip. Damn him. Who the hell said he could touch her like that? Then the thought came that maybe she had. His stomach knotted and for a moment he found it hard to breathe. No, it was his own fault, in part. He lied to her; manipulated her. This was her way of making him pay.
So, he continued to watch as Samantha frowned at the other man and said something that made him smile. Then he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out onto the dance floor. Nathan tensed as he watched, ready to pounce on the shifter if the situation called for it.
“Yes, I do believe it’s the eye patch,” Davu said at Nathan’s side.
Nathan turned to him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Javed’s ability to attract trouble—it has to be the eye patch.”
Nathan wondered just how much the man had had to drink.
“I’m not drunk,” Davu replied. “Not yet. But you must admit—the patch adds an air of rebellion to the man. Others expect trouble, seek after it even, and he obliges. God knows how he obliges.”
Nathan glanced at the dance floor as Samantha continued to argue and dance with Javed. Oddly enough, they didn’t seem to miss a beat of the song playing, although Nathan had no idea how either of them heard the notes.
“I have a feeling he’d be trouble with or without it.”
“Perhaps,” Davu said thoughtfully. “Do you know anything about glass eyes?”
Nathan stared. “Um, no, no I don’t.”
Davu shrugged, his gaze fixed on the couple arguing as they danced.
“Not that it matters. I doubt he’d agree to give it up.”
“Give what up?” Nathan shook his head. “Never mind, I have a feeling I don’t want to know.”
; “That is more than likely,” Davu agreed.
Voices raised drew his attention back to Samantha. Adam now stood toe-to-toe with the pirate as Samantha tried to get his attention. Big brother’s rescue attempt did not appear to be appreciated.
“Maybe we should do something,” Nathan suggested.
Adam shoved Javed hard. Samantha grabbed her brother’s arm, but he shook her off and she spun backward on her heels, ramming into another couple dressed as some sort of sheik and a harem girl.
“As I see it, there’s no need,” Davu said. “They can handle themselves quite well.”
Javed held up both hands and spoke to Adam. For a moment, it looked as if the two men would walk away. Then Adam reared back and swung. The sound of fist connecting with jaw made Nathan wince. Javed staggered backward. He shook his head as a scowl replaced his momentary surprise. Adam seemed to brace himself as Javed ran at him with a feral roar.
“Ian, do something!” a woman across the room shouted above the melee.
A tall man dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans ran toward the fray. He tried to get between the fighting men, but was knocked flat. Davu offered a resigned sigh, and handed Nathan his glass.
“Damn, just when it was getting good,” the man said, almost to himself. “I suppose I shall have to interfere before they hurt someone,” he observed reluctantly.
The dark man moved forward into the crowd. People stepped aside until his path was clear. A thud sounded as Adam’s fist landed to the shifter’s jaw once more. Nathan cringed. Davu reached them at last, and with an uplifted hand the men fell still. The crowd whispered in amazement mingled with relief.
Nathan pulled his gaze from the three men who stood in a wide huddle talking quietly. The lumberjack who had tried to interfere was being helped to his feet by a very curvy Red Riding Hood. While they didn’t look happy, it did appear as if the actual fighting had finished.
He frowned. Where had Samantha gone? He searched the room for her, scanning the crowd for that shining red hair that glowed like copper in the sun. He grimaced at his own thoughts. When had he become so pathetically poetic? He gulped down the whiskey and winced as it burned a path to his gut. He took a deep breath and set both glasses on a table, and then pushed his way through the throng.
Music picked up again as the excitement over the brawl subsided. Nathan barely registered it all as he continued to search for the familiar shade of red in a sea of brunettes and blonds. She couldn’t have gone far in the large, crowded room. She wouldn’t just leave after she’d spent so much time and energy into planning this event. But where was she?
* * ‡ * *
Samantha stared at the mirror and made a disgusted sound. All those hours of carefully applying her make-up, all to have it ruined in less than five minutes. Damn Javed and Adam. Damn all men, for that matter. Life would be so much easier without any of them to complicate things. She swallowed another sob and silently cursed her own stupidity and weakness. How could she let another man get so damn far under her skin?
“Bastards, aren’t they?” The feminine voice echoed sharply off the tiled bathroom walls and sent Samantha spinning on her heels.
“What…?”
The room appeared empty, but she wasn’t alone. Then a toilet flushed and one of the light green stall doors opened. A young woman with bright red hair piled high on her head emerged. The taffeta of her Edwardian style, blue-green gown caught for a moment on the hinge of the door, but she expertly swiveled her hips and ripped it free. Samantha gaped. It was such an exquisite gown, how could…? Then she caught the other woman’s eye and something deep inside her froze with fear.
“Men are bastards by nature,” the woman said with a sweet smile. “Don’t you agree, Samantha?”
“Yes, I suppose I do,” Samantha replied after a moment, even as she wondered how the other woman knew her name.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
She tried not to show her surprise, but she worried she’d had one too many drinks to keep the poker-face in position.
“Of course, I do,” she lied, then opted for a half-truth instead, “I’m just terrible with names, I’m afraid.”
The other woman smiled. It didn’t reach her cold, blue eyes, however. Then she turned and flounced her way to the sinks on the other side of the large restroom. She made a pouty face at the mirror before twisting the knob and setting the water in motion. She carefully washed her hands beneath the shiny chrome fixture. The sound of running water filled the room like a roar from a waterfall. Then it stopped.
“Ah, let’s not pretend, Ms. Bays, shall we?” the woman said as she approached the paper towel dispenser. “We both know you haven’t the faintest idea who the hell I am.”
“But–”
“No, that’s all right, really,” the red-head insisted as she dried her hands and tossed the wadded bits into the trash. Then she tugged the wig off her head and revealed her own blonde hair tucked underneath. “Ah, that’s better,” she said as she tossed the wig into the garbage with one hand and rubbed her scalp with the other. “I wouldn’t know you from the next whore if I hadn’t followed Nathan that day he blew off work to have lunch with you. He does seem to have a thing for redheads for some unknown reason.”
Samantha’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“Poor boy really has terrible taste in women, don’t you think? He can’t seem to help himself––always attracted to the tramps and lost souls while women of substance seem to confuse him.”
Samantha’s anger boiled and she moved to leave before she wound up in a fight of her own.
“No, you mustn’t be offended,” the woman insisted. Then she was suddenly at Samantha’s side, long pink nails digging into her arm like talons. “He’s much like my dear father was, may his soul burn in hell. But Nathan…well, he’s worth saving, don’t you think? I’m determined to do just that.”
Samantha stared down into the cold, blue eyes in disbelief as emotions rolled over her from the woman’s touch. Ice trickled through her veins from the point of contact. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what she expected at all…
* * ‡ * *
“Adam, where’s your sister?”
The man swung around, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean where…?”
Then he swept the room with his gaze and everything went suddenly, horribly still for a moment in time. A phone buzzed and Adam reached into his tuxedo to retrieve the device.
“Bays…” he stood and listened, his complexion growing more ashen by the second. “Find her, now.” He ended the call and stepped toward Nathan, grabbing his arm in a vice-like grip.
“That Kathy woman, Katherine Rose, she ducked out on our surveillance somehow. What do you know about her, Nathan?”
“Nothing,” he insisted. “She works at the design company––she’s just a secretary, you know, the office gofer.”
“Something isn’t right,” Adam insisted. “Why would she duck us? I put my very best people on her watch, she shouldn’t have even known they were there. How could she unless…”
“I didn’t say a thing,” he interjected. “I haven’t talked to her in almost a week.”
Adam took a step closer until Nathan could smell the mix of alcohol and sweat. “You dated her, didn’t you?”
Nathan shook his head and then stopped as a thought emerged. “No, not really, but we did have coffee together. Once. It wasn’t even on purpose, we just wound up at the same cafe at the same time and there was only one table and she invited me to share.”
“When?”
“Months ago, it was early March, I think.”
March, right before he bought the drawing at Liam’s auction. Right before he began drawing the murder scenes. Right before the women began to die.
“Oh, God, I was wrong,” he whispered, then frantically glanced around the room. “It worked, Adam. I turned the vision. Katherine isn’t the next victim, she’s the killer. Samantha…” he almost choked on her name, “
We have to find Samantha.”
* * ‡ * *
Samantha pulled her arm down and sideways, ripping it from the other woman’s grip. Then she backed up until her legs hit the oval shaped lounge in the middle of the room and almost lost her balance. The woman laughed.
“Good job,” she said. “I suppose big brother made you take defense classes at some point? Or was that your daddy’s idea?”
“We don’t have to do this,” Samantha replied. “I broke up with Nathan––he’s not the man I thought he was.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “You broke up with him? Like hell. I’m sure he finally saw through your disguise. He finally saw what a truly useless whore you really are.”
The insult had Samantha gritting her teeth, but it wouldn’t do to lose her head over petty insults from a crazy person.
“It’s true,” Samantha insisted. “I found out he’s just like every other man on earth—he’s a self-centered, manipulative bastard. I had one of those in my life, and I sure as hell don’t need or want another.”
“You are such a liar.”
“Kathy?”
The woman spun as Nathan’s deep voice vibrated off the tiles around them. Samantha could only stare at him in his long black cloak and Zorro mask. The confusion and hurt in his dark almond eyes almost took her breath away. She wanted to run to him, to fling herself into his arms and tell him how wrong she’d been to leave him alone. Instead she stayed where she was and hoped beyond hope that he understood the truth.
“Nathan? What are you doing here? I didn’t want you to see this,” the other woman stammered. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”
“It’s okay, Kathy…or may I call you Katherine?” He inched forward. “Katherine Rose, right? I understand it all now. The city scape with the small flower for the signature…and the drawings. I drew a rose in every one of them, didn’t I? But I’ve been so blind that I didn’t even realize…I didn’t understand why until now.”
“You-you understand?” she watched him warily for a moment. “How do I know you’re not lying to me? How do I know…?”
