“The kind that tells me he might not be who he’s pretending to be, but as I said, I want to look deeper before I confirm that hunch. Give me an hour.”
Disappointment curdled in Morgan’s belly that Officer Travis St. John might not be one of the good guys like she’d assumed. She should have trusted her instincts, haywire or not, rather than drawing conclusions based on a keen physical attraction and a law enforcement uniform. After all, law-abiding mortals didn’t send her fight or flight instincts into overdrive from several yards away and leave her wanting to sink her teeth into them and drain them dry.
With a tired sigh, Morgan headed for the door. “I’m going to see if I can catch a quick nap before tonight’s torture session. Call me if you find anything.”
The first thing she noticed upon entering her room, was the black garment bag laid out on the bed. Unzipping it, she discovered a dress of scarlet silk, the fabric so thin and clingy she most likely wouldn’t be able to wear undergarments much less conceal a weapon. With a wry twist of her lips, she held it up to her form and stood in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.
Backless, with spaghetti straps, a deep plunging neckline and a slit up one side, the dress reminded her more of sexy lingerie donned to arouse a lover in the bedroom rather than something one would wear to a party. It definitely wasn’t a dress she wanted to wear for someone like Olivier Rodolfo. Travis St. John on the other hand…
In a moment of weakness, Morgan imagined descending the grand staircase in this dress to meet the tall, rugged police officer. With a look of admiration on his handsome face, he’d hold out his hand to her and sweep her into his arms as he whispered how beautiful she looked. They’d dance, barely making it a full circuit around the dancefloor before their mutual need had them hurrying to the privacy of her room like playful youths in the first bloom of passion. There, his strong calloused fingers would strip the dress from her body while his mouth devoured hers…
Morgan groaned as she pushed the tantalizing daydream away and turned her back on her reflection. Fantasies were all well and good, but she had to keep in mind that it couldn’t ever be more than that. Never mind that he had some weird effect on her that she couldn’t even begin to understand, the first night she’d seen him, she’d assumed she had been looking at a loving family, and while she hadn’t seen a ring on his finger today, an absence of jewelry meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Never would she trespass on another woman’s territory. He also, if Jamie’s hunch was right – which they usually were – wasn’t who he claimed to be, and that was a giant red flag, not to mention that Travis St. John was human.
Humans bruised far too easily, their bodies fragile, bones were broken with little effort in a moment of passion unless she kept a firm rein on her preternatural strength and the last thing a man like St. John inspired in her was a tepid, cautious coupling. She didn’t want to worry that her grip was too tight or that she might inadvertently hurt him in the heat of the moment. Such caution was guaranteed to take her out of the moment and spoil the pleasure for her, if not both of them. Best not to even bother, she decided with a sigh of disappointment.
With one last mental picture of Travis St. John naked in her bed, an image her brain had conjured with the sure intention of torturing her, Morgan ground her molars together until a twinge of pain shot through her temples. She needed to stay focused. This wasn’t a vacation, despite what she may have told Rodolfo. She was here on a job and distractions, no matter that they came in a sexy package, would only put her and her team at risk. She needed to stay sharp, ice-cold in all of her dealings, so super-hot cops had to go.
A prickle at her neck and a fiery rush of blood through her veins had Morgan whirling around and glaring at the shuttered windows. “You have got to be kidding me.”
∞∞∞
Travis stood outside the gates of Rodolfo’s villa, careful to stay out of the line of sight of the numerous security cameras on the grounds. Not that he was afraid of the Born, more that he didn’t want to tip his hand before he was fully prepared for a takedown. Someday soon, he’d have everything he needed to bust through those gates and finally deliver the justice coming to that slippery piece of shit.
Narrowing his eyes, he turned his attention to the shuttered windows on the upper floors. Was she inside? Was she even now having to hide her distaste in front of her family as Rodolfo arrogantly swaggered around her?
Judging by the amount of activity happening beyond the gates despite the sun still being out, Travis had to assume some sort of event was in the works – an engagement party? A wedding?
A low rumble of a growl reverberated through his chest and he stepped back deeper into the shadow of a large oak tree before he inadvertently gave himself away to the dogs that were patrolling the grounds right along with Rodolfo’s human minions.
On the heels of that thought, a white catering van pulled up to the gates and the driver rolled down his window to push the button for admittance. For a moment, Travis contemplated jumping on the back bumper of that van and hitching a ride in. Too bad they’d be on him within seconds. Olivier Rodolfo’s security was anything but lax and all he’d gain was Rodolfo issuing a formal complaint with the force that would see Travis moved as far away as possible from any cases involving the Born. He couldn’t afford to be reckless, not when he was this close to his goal and especially not to play knight in shining armor for a woman he didn’t know, not to mention one that might not even need his help.
The thought that she might actually wish to be exactly where she was, gave Travis a sudden case of indigestion. The truth of the matter was, she was a Born and potentially cut from the same cloth as the sociopath residing behind those walls. He didn’t know her, and assumptions about her character would likely see him disappointed at best, or worse, dead because he’d been too busy mooning over a female that should, by her very birth, be his enemy.
As if his thoughts had conjured her, the woman that had occupied far too many of his thoughts throughout the day strode purposefully out the front door and scanned the area he currently occupied. She could sense him then, even from this distance, even with thick walls of wood and stone between them. Interesting. Needing to see what she’d do, if anything, he stepped out from the shadows to make his presence known.
She was dressed as she had been earlier in jeans, paired with a short, black leather jacket that his gut told him she wore in an attempt to hide a weapon – or weapons – rather than ward off a non-existent chill. Her long legs carried her past the still open gates and straight to him in a matter of moments. “Officer St. John,” she said with a small closed-lip smile that didn’t quite banish the suspicion in her blue eyes. “We meet again.”
He didn’t have to be a mind reader to ascertain what she was thinking. Had he followed her? Was he here on official police business or was he some creepy stalker she was going to have trouble with?
Throwing her what he hoped was a non-threatening smile, Travis stuffed his hands into his pockets and lied, “Purely accidental, Miss…” he trailed off, hoping she wouldn’t correct his assumption that she was unattached.
“Rhys,” was her immediate response. “Morgan Rhys. Are you friends with Mister Rodolfo?”
Mister Rodolfo. He liked the way she worded that, implying that her acquaintance with the Born was tenuous at best. If that was the case, Travis would greatly like to keep it that way.
“I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the man, though I must say I admire his home.”
“Ah, so you’re a fan of southern architecture.” Her mouth quirked up adorably on one side and Travis felt his blood heat as his heartbeat picked up its tempo. This woman was dangerous to his equilibrium as well as a distraction he couldn’t afford. If he was a smart man, he’d bid her good night and get away from her as fast as his feet could carry him.
“Are you staying here?” He blurted because apparently, he was not a smart man.
Her lips pi
nched in displeasure for just a second before she fixed a bland expression on her face. “My friends and I are here visiting for a few days and Mister Rodolfo generously offered us accommodations.”
Friends, not family, and only for a few days, so she wasn’t being forced to marry the villain as he had assumed, and if the look she hadn’t quite been able to hide had told him anything, it was that she wasn’t happy to be housed under Rodolfo’s roof during her stay. Not that he blamed her in the least.
Now that his initial curiosity had been satisfied, he should have walked away. Too bad a host of other questions now plagued him. New Orleans might be a hotspot for human tourists, but she had to be aware of Rodolfo’s reputation, so choosing this location for a weekend, even staying in a house where she would obviously rather not be suggested that she was here for a purpose. To spy on Rodolfo perhaps? Had the Court of Elders sent her?
Yet another catering van pulled up to the gates and the intriguing Miss Rhys stepped a bit closer to him to make room for the vehicle to pass. He had to admit that he admired her strength. Being this close to him had to have her skin crawling or at least tingling or something. Being what she was, and what he was, it was unavoidable. She hadn’t been around him – or anyone of his kind, he was sure, since they were so few in numbers – enough to build up any sort of tolerance, though he couldn’t help but note that she was being very careful not to show off her teeth. Habit around an assumed human, or was she fighting the urge to attack and succeeding admirably?
The thought only increased his intrigue. “Would you like to go get something to eat? Or maybe a drink?” he asked before he could rethink what was most likely a disastrous idea.
She frowned and glanced back at the house before returning her ocean blue gaze to him. “I would, but Mister Rodolfo is throwing some sort of party. If I don’t show, he might consider my absence as a slight.”
Travis knew the way the Born operated enough to know that insulting her host could very well result in her being told to leave the territory, which again begged the question of why she was here – or more specifically, why she needed to be here. “Rain check?”
This time when she smiled, her eyes sparkled with pleasure as well. “Tomorrow night?”
Her eagerness to see him again despite the discomfort she had to be experiencing in his presence paired with that happy expression had him suddenly needing to turn slightly to cover his quite obvious arousal as his dick lengthened and throbbed behind the snug fit of his uniform trousers. Jesus, she was gorgeous. Add to that her admirable strength, not to mention he’d bet everything he owned she was as smart as a whip. The combination was incredibly arousing. This was no damsel in distress that needed saving. Nor was she a sheltered, shrinking violet. Morgan Rhys was a warrior, perfectly capable of saving herself. And depending on her reasons for being in New Orleans, she might even prove to be an indispensable ally in this private war against Olivier Rodolfo he was determined to win.
Chapter Eight
Morgan sipped her champagne and surreptitiously kept an eye on Jamie who was currently being chatted up by two very large male vampires while Kane was entertaining a bevy of fawning females both human and Turned.
She felt practically naked in the body-skimming red dress she’d donned for the party, though she had managed to strap one of her daggers to an inner thigh without creating a tell-tale line that would be a dead giveaway that she was armed. The red heels Rodolfo had provided to complete the ensemble pinched her toes and would more than likely leave blisters on her feet but she sucked up the pain. She’d done her duty to her host and made an appearance; another hour should suffice before she could make her excuses and get some much-needed sleep. Obviously, sleep deprivation had made her half-crazy. Why else would she have set a date to meet with Travis St. John? Sure, she could use the excuse that the man might be able to provide some much-needed intel on her current mission, but the truth was that she wanted to see him again, was looking forward to seeing him again, and this, after she’d already decided that anything personal between them wasn’t worth the aggravation.
“You’re enjoying my fair city, I hope?” Rodolfo breathed against her ear, making Morgan want to cringe at his proximity. “I heard you went sightseeing today.”
Ah, yes. His spies. They’d likely been able to tell their boss little more than exactly what he’d just uttered, however. She’d been too careful for there to have been any other outcome… except perhaps, her momentary distraction with Travis St. John at the cemetery.
With that man at the forefront of her mind, as well as the peculiar way he made her feel, Morgan asked curiously, “Do you have a lot of shifters in the area?”
Taking a sip from his flute of champagne, Rodolfo raised a single brow at her inquiry before he shot her a condescending smile. “This is New Orleans, my dear. One could argue we’re the hub of the supernatural.”
Morgan had to forcefully keep herself from grinding her teeth in frustration. While he’d answered her question, he hadn’t actually given her anything useful. She wanted numbers, types, perhaps for him to name a predator species she hadn’t ever encountered that would explain why her police officer made her feel like she was in the presence of a monstrous beast.
“Did a shifter give you some problems today?” His tone was patronizing, rife with the insinuation that she was too weak to ward off trouble from what he would see as a lesser species. Rodolfo only confirmed that last suspicion when he continued, “They’re nothing more than pests, and typically keep their distance, but if one approached you, perhaps upset you…”
Morgan very nearly rolled her eyes. The last thing she needed was Rodolfo terrorizing shifters for her benefit. Pasting an indulgent smile on her face, she informed him, “I was only surprised that I didn’t sense more today. As you pointed out, this is the hub of the supernatural. I expected more.”
Rodolfo frowned, perhaps taking insult at her implication that his city – as he termed it – hadn’t lived up to her expectations. She’d need to watch her tongue as well as her tone if she wished to keep Rodolfo compliant.
“If you’re looking to play with the dogs, the pack keeps to the bayou,” was his clipped response.
“Pack?” She prompted without thought now that he’d given her something she could sink her teeth into. She was needling her host in her desire to figure out this latest puzzle and she’d be forced to placate him later, but if the information he gave her was worth it... “Just wolves?”
“The wolves are the largest population in the area, though I’m sure there is an assortment of other species in smaller groups throughout the state,” he practically snarled, his tone impatient, his face stern a moment before the pleasant, charming mask dropped back into place. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant, shall we?”
Relenting, despite her dissatisfaction with the answers she’d thus far been given – she’d been around plenty of wolves through the years and none of them had come close to making her feel what Travis St. John had just by being in the same vicinity – Morgan put it aside for now. “Of course. Do tell me how you manage to keep such well behaved vampires at your beck and call.”
She knew the answer, of course, but the topic change had done as she intended. Rodolfo’s feathers were no longer ruffled and the preening peacock was back in place as he extolled the virtues of his management skills. Blah, blah, blah, gag.
It was a full twenty minutes later that Morgan was finally able to extricate herself and only because one of Rodolfo’s other guests had wanted a word with the Born, thank God. Another moment and she was sure she would have started bleeding from the ears.
Noting that Kane was getting rather cozy with a pretty little redheaded vampire and wouldn’t appreciate an interruption, Morgan made her way to Jamie’s side as the Turned vampire shot back a slug of what smelled like tequila. “How are you holding up?”
The blonde rolled her eyes. “I’ve never been much for people, give me technology any day. Code I can dec
ipher, small talk and innuendo? Not so much.”
“Speaking of code –”
Morgan didn’t even need to finish the sentence before Jamie grabbed her arm and pulled her into a corner behind the bar that afforded a modicum of privacy. “That cop you had me look into? Whoever he hired to create his identity was a pro. Name, social security number, transcripts, everything needed to pass a background check and more, really great stuff. Impressive.”
“But not real.”
Jamie shook her head. “The tiny inconsistencies would be almost imperceptible to pretty much anyone looking into him.”
Not Jamie though. Which was precisely why Morgan had recruited the hacker. Blowing out a disappointed breath, Morgan steeled herself for the answer before asking, “So who is he? A criminal?”
“I have no idea,” Jamie confessed to Morgan’s surprise. “The trail just stops, no threads for me to pull that lead to previous identities or who he might actually be. Your Travis St. John is a mystery.”
“Shit.”
“That doesn’t make him a bad guy, though,” Jamie offered. “I mean, he’s a cop, right? Fighting crime? Helping old ladies cross the street? Rescuing cats from trees?”
Morgan let out a chuckle. “I believe those last two are boy scouts and firemen, but I see your point.”
“Are you sure he’s not a vamp? I mean, we have to change our human identities every so often to keep from raising suspicion and really, I have to tell you, if you can find who created your guy, we need to hire whoever he or she is for our side.”
Shaking her head, Morgan muttered distractedly, “He’s not a vamp,” but Jamie’s line of thinking may not be too far off the mark. Thane Stroud had confirmed that there were angels currently in this realm, and while she’d heard tales of the fearsome winged warriors, including the immense power they carried within, she’d never actually met one to know how her senses would react if one was nearby. Travis St. John could be an angel. It made sense. It made a great deal of sense.
A Hunter Born (Hired Hunters Series Book 1) Page 5
