Eighth Grave After Dark (20 page)

“She catches on quick,” I said. “So, any luck with the information Kit sent over?”

The frustrated sigh that escaped her lungs told me everything I needed to know. “Nothing. Everything they have is right. Faris was supposed to go to the park after school, and then she and her friends were going to walk to a party.”

“A party her mother didn't know about,” I added.

“I don't get it, though,” Amber said, scanning a handful of pages, and I realized she had been going over the case with Cookie. “Why are the cops so worried about that party or the park?”

“Because according to all her friends, that's where she was going.”

“Which friends?” she asked as though we'd lost it. “Certainly not the one she was texting that day.”

I straightened and walked over to her. “What are you talking about?”

She pointed to a copy of Faris's texts that were in the file. “Right here. Did Kit talk to this guy? Nate something or other? Because according to these texts, they were ditching the party and meeting at a skater hangout.”

Cookie thanked Reyes as he handed her a piping hot cup, then stayed to listen in.

“Amber, where does it say that?” I asked.

She pointed again as I dialed Kit's number. I still didn't see it. She was pointing to a text that said,

COP at tunnel.

Feeling like an idiot, I said, “I don't get it, hon.”

Before she could explain, Kit picked up. I put her on speakerphone.

“Okay,” I said, forgoing the pleasantries, “you're on speaker. Who is this Nate kid that Faris was texting?”

“We don't know,” she said, sounding exhausted but not sleepy. I hadn't woken her. “She has a friend named Nathan, but he says it wasn't him in the texts. Still, there were only a few texts from Nate, and they seemed pretty innocent.”

“Nuh-uh,” Amber said. “There were only a few from him
as
Nate. He also texted her as Caleb, Isaiah, and Sean. It's their favorite show.”

“Yeah, we couldn't find any one of her friends with those names. What do you mean their favorite show?”

“
NCIS,
” she said as though we were daft. “It's right here.” She thumbed through the pages and pages of texts. “Back when he was Nate the first time.”

“The first time?” I asked, trying to see what she saw.

She rummaged through the pages until she got to a set of older messages. I'd remembered them talking about
NCIS,
but how on earth did Amber get the name thing out of it?

“Right here. He tells her if her parents catch on to let him know and he will switch to the next episode.”

This was getting ridiculous. I was still young, for goodness' sake. I wasn't
that
out of touch. Was I? The text read,

If PAW, will start next episode.

Clearly I was. “You're going to have to explain.”

“Don't worry,” she said, sympathizing with me. “Okay, this says if your parents are watching,
P-A-W,
then I'll start the next episode. I'll go to the next letter. Thankfully, when the phone company sent a copy of her texts, they sent them in order instead of by user. That's how we figured it out, because right after that, like ten seconds after, Caleb wrote this.”

She pointed at a text that read,

Starting next episode now.

“Caleb,” I said, realizing at last what they were doing. I'd have to go back completely and find all the transitions and texts from this same guy. “But what about a skater hangout?”

“Right here,” she said, pointing for the third time to the same text,

COP at tunnel.

“Isn't that just warning her away from a tunnel? That there's a cop there?”

“No, it says
C-O-P.
‘Change of plans.' And to meet him at the Tunnel. Aka, a skater hangout. Not that I've ever been there,” Amber assured her mother.

My jaw dropped open. “How did we miss this?”

Cookie shook her head, flummoxed.

“We missed it, too,” Kit said. “We just thought they were planning a little underage drinking and were trying to dodge the cops.”

“Which is probably exactly what he was hoping we would think,” I said. “This wasn't a crime of opportunity, Kit. If Amber's right, he planned this. Got to know her through texts. Spent weeks planning the abduction.”

“And he sent her pictures,” Amber said. “But that's not him.” She held up one of the shots he'd sent. “I can't believe she fell for that.”

“Why?” I asked. “Who is it?”

“It's the Target kid. The one who got famous when a girl snapped his picture and tweeted it to her friend? It went viral?” she said, trying to clue us in. “It was, like, everywhere? And this one,” she said, holding up another, “is a kid who got famous on YouTube for doing ‘Paparazzi.'” When we stared at her, she added, “Lady Gaga?”

“Oh, the song,” I said, finally getting it.

“Seriously, though, they don't even look alike.” She compared the pictures. “What was she thinking?”

I took the seat at my desk, the one opposite Cookie. “They'd been texting for weeks. She thought she knew him.”

“She thought she could trust him,” Cookie said; then she looked at Amber with a new determination. “That's it. Where's your phone? You're grounded from it for seven years.”

“Mom,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Kit spoke up then, sounding more energized than before. “Charley, this is it. I think you guys are on to something.”

“Not me,” I said, waving a hand, then pointing at Amber. “Amber Kowalski.”

“And Quentin Rutherford,” she added, gazing at him adoringly. It took true love to overlook drool. “He was the one who caught the
NCIS
thing. He loves that show.”

“We'll check out these numbers, see what we can get. I'm sure they're burner phones, but we might get a hit on one of them.”

“He went to a lot of trouble to get to Faris,” I said. “He had to have known her from somewhere. Became obsessed with her. Maybe a coffee shop she and her friends frequented or even their school.”

“I'll call Agent Waters, now. We're on this.”

I hung up and gave Amber a high five. “You may have just saved a life, Amber.”

She smiled bashfully. “I hope so.”

*   *   *

After scouring the texts one last time, making notes based on Amber's keen eye, we scanned them all and sent them back to Kit with our observations before wandering off to bed. I led Reyes to the communal bathroom and insisted he take a long, hot shower for two reasons. One, I wanted him to relax enough to fall asleep. Eight months without a wink? Unfathomable. How was I not married to a zombie? Two, I wanted to get a jump-start on this war.

Because the rooms were so tiny, we'd had to stash Reyes's clothes in the room next to our bedroom. I'd dubbed it his dressing room. He was a prince, after all. Sure, he was a prince of the underworld, but the title still counted. I hurried inside and carried out my dastardly plan, ransacking his dresser until I found every stitch of underwear he owned. I stuffed them into a plastic grocery bag—ever a champion of recycling—tiptoed back into our bedroom, and hid them in Beep's bassinet. Then, giggling like a mental patient, I grabbed the book I'd been reading and scrambled into bed.

My insides tingled when I heard him walk down the hall. Open the door to his dressing room. Pull out a drawer. Then another. I wiggled farther into the covers when I heard his footsteps get closer.

By the time he appeared at the door, a playful grin on his face, I lay reading in bed, completely innocent of anything he might accuse me of.

He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. “You wouldn't happen to know where my underwear ran off to, would you?”

I closed the book and thought. And thought. Then I crinkled my nose and thought some more. “Nope,” I said at last. “Weird that you don't, though, since it
is
your underwear. This could get really awkward.”

He dropped the towel and my gaze darted to his glorious nether regions.

“Not for me.”

Damn him and his rock-hard body. I tore my gaze away and went back to reading as he pulled on a pair of loose pajama pants, the kind that tied in front, and a powder blue T-shirt, all the while watching me like a panther readying to pounce.

“Going commando?” I asked as he crawled onto the bed. The mattress sank under his weight.

Ignoring me, he read the title of the book I kept firmly between our gazes. “
Lover Awakened
.” He nestled his head on my shoulder. “Weren't you reading this book last month?”

“No.”

He raised a brow.

“Yes. I can't stop. I've read it twenty-seven times in a row.”

He chuckled. “Do you need to be awakened?”

“'Parently.”

“You know, you don't need a manual for that. I can walk you through it step-by-step.” He ran a finger down the curve of my neck, his heat licking across my skin, soaking into my nightgown.

“That's okay,” I said, fighting a grin. “This author covers the basics. Her hero seems very well informed. I think I'm getting the general idea.”

“But can he do this?” He slid a hand under the covers and over my knee. Separating my legs, he wrapped one of his around one of mine, locking mine apart as he pushed the other knee, distancing them farther. He kissed my shoulder and slid his fingertips over the delicate folds between my legs, parting them, easing inside. His touch was like liquid fire. It rippled over me, settled deep inside, melted me until the warmth pooling in my abdomen ignited. I curled one fist into the sheets and opened even wider, greedy for more.

“Well, I can't say,” I said breathlessly. “I've never met him. But he seems very capable.”

“What about this?” He peeled back my nightgown with his free hand and took Danger's hardened nipple into his mouth. Sucking softly, he did the tongue thing. The fucking tongue thing that set me on fire. He had me squirming in seconds, begging for release as he tasted and teased.

I reached down and took hold of his rock-hard erection through the pants. He sucked in a soft breath and even through the material I could feel the blood rushing beneath my fingers. I started to turn into him, but he pulled me up from the mattress. Locking me to him from behind, he walked me to the full-length mirror, pushed my gown over my shoulders, and let it drop to the floor.

When I tried to look down, he wrapped a hand around my throat from behind and forced me to look into the mirror, as though wanting me to see what he saw. But what I saw was a very large, very round woman.

He must have sensed my misgivings. He tsked softly and placed my hands on the wall on either side of the mirror. Then he pulled a chair over with one foot and lifted one of my legs over the back of it. My toes barely touched the seat and by that point, I was shaking visibly.

He wrapped a hand around my throat again and whispered into my ear. “Now I'm going to do things to you,” he said, his voice deep and smooth and accented with a brogue, and I realized he was speaking in Manx Gaelic. “Very bad things,” he added, his brogue almost as sexy as he. It set my soul ablaze. “And you're going to watch.” He cupped Will. Kneaded her. “And you're going to learn.” He grazed his teeth over my lobe, his warm breath fanning over my cheek. “And you're going to understand exactly what it is that you do to me.”

What I did to him? Was he insane? I was just thankful for the wall; otherwise, I doubted I could have stood as his erection slid between my legs, so hard it pulsed there. I started to reach under and take hold of it, but he quickly set my hand back on the wall.

“Not yet,” he warned, giving my wrist a firm squeeze.

Then he did the strangest thing. He pulled back my hair, sweeping it into one hand so he could caress my face with the other. He watched me in the mirror, and while I got the feeling he wanted me to see what he saw, all I could look at was him. His eyes shimmering beneath his long lashes. His mouth full and parted ever so slightly. His jaw strong.

He dropped my hair and moved to my shoulders. Ran his fingertips over them until he came from behind and cupped Danger and Will. Massaged as he nibbled on my neck. Skimmed his fingertips over their peaks, causing a spasm of pleasure to shoot to my core.

But everywhere he touched, he left a scalding heat, and I realized he was doing it on purpose. He could control his heat, at least to some degree.

I needed to see. I needed to watch him from the other side. From the supernatural side. And while I had yet to master the leap from one plane to the other, I released the breath from my lungs, relaxed my body, and concentrated until I saw the flames that forever engulfed him. I'd seen them a couple of times before, but never like this. While normally he had blue flames licking along his skin as though he himself were an accelerant, this time he glowed with a bright orange fire. And everywhere he touched, every part of me he stroked, he left a trail of flames in his wake.

I watched mesmerized as the prince of the underworld set me ablaze. Literally.

His hands brushed over my belly, infusing his warmth deep inside me, and my legs started to give beneath my weight. I lay my head back against his shoulder as he found the cusp between my thighs again. Holding me to him with one arm, he breached the folds, brushing softly, stroking until the tinder he'd ignited in my abdomen blazed to life. I clawed at his arm, wanting more, but once again he placed my hand back on the wall.

Then he was gone.

I opened my eyes and he was on his knees in front of me. My nails dug into the plaster when he opened me further and branded me with a fiery kiss. I gasped. Pleasure pulsed through me as his tongue caused stinging tendrils to swirl inside me like a dust devil struggling to become a tornado. I sought that peak, but I didn't have to look hard. He grazed his teeth along the sensitive apex, then feathered his tongue in sweet, short sweeps, stoking the embers, coaxing me closer and closer until a riptide of raw lust engulfed me. The orgasm rocketed through me, sending out pulsating swells of unimaginable pleasure to every nerve in my body. I plunged my fingers into his hair and held him to me as the tidal wave rose to exquisite peaks, then ebbed slowly, the sharp contractions tapering off.