Son of the Moonless Night (The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 3)
Page 17
Chapter 19
Turning her coat collar up against the chilly November wind blowing against her back, Kat waited anxiously in Public Square Park. Watching the colored leaves twirl across the pathway she tried to decide for the hundredth time today whether or not she would ask Owen back to the apartment after their date. Their first official date.
The dinner at her apartment, where she’d dropped the vase of flowers into the sink, had ended awkwardly after some passionate kissing which lasted long enough to burn the lasagna and the Italian bread she’d been baking. They’d vacated the smoke-filled apartment in favor of a quick pizza at Papa Perro’s. Finding the vampire bites on the corpse the next morning had iced the fallen cake. Their next meeting had been awkward, like a mating dance between one-legged birds. He’d been distracted, then attentive, sending all kinds of different signals. Until the goodbye kiss. Which had been pretty clear and very good.
This time would be different. She hoped.
As she spotted Owen approaching, she waved a gloved hand at him. The instant he saw her, he quickened his pace. Upon reaching her, he gave her a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.
“How’s my favorite lab technician?” he asked as he looped his arm through hers, tucking it tightly against his arm with his hand.
“Wow. Favorite status.” She grinned at him. “Do you know a lot of technicians?”
“Nope. That’s what makes you my favorite. Am I yours?”
“My what?”
“Your favorite?”
“Favorite forensic scientist? Favorite date? Favorite?”
“Favorite anything. I’ll take whatever you’re offering.”
The glint in his blue eyes told her he wasn’t kidding about taking whatever she offered. Sensuality exuded from him tonight. He was different. More primal. The heat from his palm soaked through her coat sleeve as if she was wearing silk, not wool.
“Favorite forensic scientist,” she said. “Although you’ve got some competition.”
“Another guy?” he asked, looking fiercely at her.
“Girl. We got a new hire yesterday. Olivia . . .” She paused. “Humm. I don’t think I know her last name.”
“You hired her and you don’t know her name? Weird if you ask me.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it. Orders came down from higher up. Don’t know why they think the cor—I mean the lab—needs another technician. Anyway, she’s got a killer resume, so you’d better watch your six or you might just lose the title of favorite.” Especially if she comes through and finds something unusual in those samples.
He grinned at the phrase killer resume as if she just complimented him.
“But let’s not talk work.” She didn’t want to think about corpses or vampires or anything paranormal tonight. “Where are we having dinner?”
“You like seafood?”
“Love it. Next to Italian, it’s my favorite.”
“I know a place in the Warehouse District which serves some fantastic seafood.”
“Nothing exotic, I hope. I don’t even do sushi.”
“What? You haven’t tried puffer fish or flathead with poisonous spines, sea slugs, or live octopus? Their suckers catch in your mouth. Makes them a challenge to eat.”
Kat’s hand clamped over her mouth, and she shook her head. The motion, combined with the rolling in her stomach at the thought of eating live octopus, nearly made her sick. “White fish and tuna,” she managed to choke out. She gulped some air, in hopes of calming her tummy. “I’d never touch puffer fish. They’re poisonous, aren’t they?”
“If they’re cooked right, they’re very tasty.”
“No thanks. I’ll just stick with apples, tomatoes, and lima beans. Maybe some rice and stir fry veggies.”
“All also poisonous,” Owen said. “At least parts of them or when they aren’t cooked or stored right, or in the case of tuna if you eat some with too much mercury in them.”
“Do you mean to spoil my appetite?” Kat asked.
“Not at all. The restaurant also serves safer, less adventurous, choices. I’ll be your guide to non-poisonous cuisine tonight.”
“That would be nice, especially if you want to come back to my apartment for a nightcap. Kinda hard to do if I’m lying dead on a restaurant floor.”
“Is that an invitation?” His eyes lit, the dark blue rings around the irises growing smoky as a seductive smile inched across his mouth.
“Only a nightcap.” She tightened her grip on his arm and bumped her shoulder into his. “So, why are you so knowledgeable regarding poisonous food?”
“Forensic toxicologist, remember? I’m obsessive over foods. I think it started when I watched my first Snow White movie and saw what the poison apple did to Snow.”
“Did you stop eating apples because of Snow White?”
“No. I started researching poisons, and by the way, only the apple seeds are toxic. You’d have to eat a lot before they would kill you. Not like some sea creatures.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “Can we change the subject?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you again. So, tell me about the new girl at work. Do you like her?”
Shrugging, she replied, “I think so. Seems to know her forensic stuff. She’s a toxicology specialist, like you.” Tipping her head, she stared at him. “In fact, she looks a bit like you. Do you have a sister?”
Beneath his jacket sleeve, Owen’s muscles stiffened. Why would that question make him tense?
Looking straight ahead, he said, “I’m an only child.”
“I’m an only,” she said. “It’s tough being an only. We onlies have to stick together.”
He relaxed beneath her touch and gave her a crooked, sizzling smile, his eyes dancing mischievously. “Nice to know you’d stick with me.” The expression nearly melted her into a puddle.
With you and to you and on you. Her face heated at her lascivious thoughts. Her emotions must have shown to Owen, because he stopped in the middle of the path and planted a long, lingering kiss on her mouth. Her knees gave out, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep upright.
“Get a room, you two,” a passerby said.
He pulled back, and the look in his eyes told her he was ready to do just that.
The tiny hurricane lamp in the middle of the table blocked Owen’s plate of calamari from Kat’s sight, but when she leaned to the side, ever so slightly, and peeked at the crispy fried delicacy, he speared a bite and held it out. “You sure you don’t want to try it?”
Holding out her hand as a barrier, she shook her head. “Looks like fried rubber bands. Does it taste like them?”
Pleased she’d begun to show a bit of interest in adventurous cuisine, he replied, “This is cooked right, so no. Overcooked calamari can taste chewy like rubber bands though. How’s the flounder?”
“Perfect.” She speared a hunk on her fork and popped it into her mouth. “And not poisonous. I think tuna is off my menu, thanks to you.”
“I can’t believe you don’t know about poisonous creatures. As a lab tech you must have dealt with some toxicology testing.”
She ducked her head, a guilty expression crossing her features.
Still trying to keep me in the dark concerning her job. What kind of a relationship could they have if she hid such a basic thing from him? Surely, if she planned to turn him into the cops she’d have done it by now. He debated whether he should call her on it or wait. She’d seemed receptive to his kisses earlier, and he didn’t want to mess up a chance at getting to second base.
He remembered his mother’s words. Love is geographical. A thing of convenience.
She was well within his geographical sphere. Definitely convenient. And a lot more normal than anyone he’d come acro
ss in the past year. A tiny spiral of desire for the normal life he’d had before Falhman kidnapped him last year curled around Owen’s heart. When he finished all this shifter business he wanted to go back to normal.
Wadding his linen napkin, he placed it on the table, still clutching it tightly in his hand. “Can I ask you something, Kat?”
“Are you okay?” she asked, glancing at his curled fist.
The knuckles on his hand were white with tension. Slowly, he released the napkin. “Why haven’t you turned me in yet? I need to know before this . . . before we . . . go any further in our relationship.”
“For killing a bear?”
His grip on the napkin eased. She still thought he’d only killed a bear. This was encouraging. “There must be an animal cruelty law I’ve broken. Offing an endangered species or something. I had a gun. I used prejudicial force to kill some . . . something. Didn’t it bother you? Make you wonder?”
Biting her lip, Kat asked, “Truthfully?”
“That would be nice, since I’m planning to bare my heart to you, and I want to know I can trust you.”
“I don’t know. I should have turned you in to the police when you came back.”
“Why? Because you’re not a lab assistant? Because you’re the deputy coroner and obligated to report crime?”
He heard her tiny gasp across the table as clearly as if she was next to him. “You know? How?”
“The day I sent you the flowers, I followed you from the diner to police headquarters. I found out you worked for the coroner’s office, not some nameless lab like you led me to believe. You’ve been lying to me about your job. I need to know you’ll be truthful with me if we take this relationship further.”
“If you knew what my job and civic duty are, why did you keep coming around? Why put yourself in danger if you thought I might turn you in?”
Scooting his chair around the perimeter of the table, he drew closer to her. “Because I like you,” he whispered in her ear. “Because you intrigue me. Because you saved me. Because I hoped you liked me enough to keep my secret.” Reaching under the table, he gave her knee a gentle squeeze, and a shudder ran over her. “You’re in pretty deep, keeping me under wraps.”
“Deep doesn’t even come close,” she said.
“So why did you do it?”
“At first, because you were hurt, and I promised not to take you to the hospital. I don’t break my promises. Later it was because I liked you. A lot.”
“And now?” His hand moved up her leg, and she gasped.
“Because of that.”
The words came out strained and tense. He hoped her tension came from his hand massaging her leg.
“And because you seemed normal, except for what happened in the alley. That wasn’t normal at all.”
His hand froze. “What do you mean?” Had she seen something she shouldn’t have?
She gave him a bug-eyed stare, her leg muscles under his hand tightening. “Please don’t tell me you go around doing that all the time. It’s not normal.”
“No. I don’t normally shoot bears.” He stabbed shifters with poison-filled syringes.
“Good,” she said. “Not shooting them, but that you don’t shoot them.” She clamped her hand down on his, stopping his progression under her skirt. “I’m babbling like an idiot.”
Grinning at her, he said, “I’m glad I affect you, but how long can I trust you?”
“I don’t have any more reasons for what I did, Owen. But you need to believe me when I say I’m in so deep I can’t go back. Legally or emotionally.” She removed his hand from her leg, entwining her fingers in his. “If you want to continue this conversation, we need to leave right now.”
“I’m in,” he said. As she grabbed her coat, practically yanking him from the chair and out the door, the look on her face told him she hadn’t missed his double entendre.
Owen backed Kat into her apartment as soon as she opened the door and dropped her wad of keys on the entry table. They fell to the floor, and she bent to retrieve them. As she did, he kicked the door closed and followed her down onto the entry rug, gently taking her to the floor, his hands roaming all over her. She returned his passion, yanking his shirt out of his pants, fumbling with the zipper. Her miniskirt bunched around her waist, and he slid his hands to her hips. Groaning, she arched toward his hand. As his fingers inched across her body, his cell phone rang, sounding the military march he set as Falhman’s ring tone.
Beneath his oversexed, and ready to explode body, Kat deflated.
“Crappy, rotten timing,” he growled.
“Let it go to voice mail.”
“I can’t.” Rolling to the side, he retrieved his phone and thumbed it on.
“I need the key. Now,” Falhman said.
“I’m a little busy, here. I’ll take care of it when I’m done.”
Kat unzipped his pants. Every fiber in his being wanted to pitch the phone down and take her right then. To hell with Falhman’s summons.
“The girl can wait, Owen.”
Falhman’s words put out his passion like a lid on a pan puts out a grease fire. He’d guessed, hadn’t he? He couldn’t know Owen planned to screw Kat. Pushing her demanding hands off, he sat and zipped his pants. Confusion clouded her face, and he indicated she should hush.
“What do you want?”
“My RFID key. Do you have it yet?”
“I’ll bring it to you in the morning.”
“Now, Owen. That’s an order. I’ll expect you within the hour. No. Make that thirty minutes. No time for a quickie.” Then he hung up.
“How the hell does he know what I’m doing?”
“Who?” Kat asked.
Ignoring her question, he went to the front window and surreptitiously looked out, searching for Falhman’s spies. Nothing seemed out of place. “I’ve got to go, but I want you to lock the door after I’m gone, and check all the windows and make sure they’re secured.”
“You’re scaring me, Owen. What’s going on?”
“I think someone’s following me.”
“Why?”
“Good question. You stay here.” He pulled her from the floor and gave her a kiss, laying his palm on her neck. Beneath his hand, her pulse beat a rapid tat-a-tat. Searching her face, he didn’t see the fear he heard in her voice or felt pounding through her. Instead, a steely resolve burned in her eyes. “I mean it, Kat. Don’t leave this apartment until I call and tell you it’s safe. Promise me.”
Moving to the entry table, she grabbed a piece of paper and wrote on it. “Here’s my cell number. Put it on speed dial. If you need me, call, and I’ll be right there.”
“You planning on rescuing me?”
“Why not? I did it once. Like I said earlier, I’m in too deep to turn back.”
Owen keyed her number into his cell. “Okay. Now do you promise to stay here?”
Grasping the sides of his head between her hands, she drew his face to hers and kissed him. “Yes, but if you go and get killed on me, I’m gonna be pissed. You won’t like me when I’m pissed.”
The fierceness with which she said the words made him want her even more. Gothic Amazons weren’t classy, but he bet they were more fun than the women he used to go after. He couldn’t wait to find out how much fun.
Chapter 20
As soon as he entered Falhman’s wood-paneled office, Owen slapped the RFID key onto the felt desk blotter. “Are your goons following me?” he demanded.
“Of course not.”
“Then why did you say I was with a girl?”
“I heard you, and her, panting when you answered the phone. You really should be more discreet with phone calls when you’re screwing someone. Take a breath before you answer. Let the tension out. Passion always sh
ows in one’s voice.”
“You can’t be that good.”
“My dear boy, you have no idea how perceptive I am, nor what I’m truly capable of.”
The arrogance in his voice set Owen’s teeth on edge. He was so going to enjoy it when he took the man down. “If we’re done here . . .” He turned to leave but Falhman stopped him.
“We’re nowhere near done. In fact, the adventure has just begun.”
He crooked a lean finger at Owen, motioning him closer. As he moved toward him, Falhman withdrew a sheet of paper, a syringe, a tin labeled isopropyl alcohol, and a bottle of iodine from the desk drawer. “See the man on this paper? I want you to shift to him now. Replicate the tattoo on his forearm.”
“Why?”
“I need to put this key in you.”
Hesitating, Owen looked at the photo. “He’s not a wanted criminal, is he?”
“We are all wanted criminals. Some of us the police know, others they don’t. Even if he is, it won’t matter. You won’t be breaking the law in his persona.”
As he spoke, Falhman dipped the tiny cylindrical RFID chip into the tin of isopropyl alcohol, and dropped it into the syringe’s end.
When Owen didn’t comply Falhman barked, “Change. Now.”
Concentrating on the photo and the tattoo, Owen pictured the man’s image in his mind. Bone and sinew twisted and turned, atom by atom, until the man stood before Falhman.