Authors: t
men might look like penguins in tuxes and looked about as comfortable as
mannequins, she’d bet Gavin would be perfectly at ease in the garb. He’d
have every woman raising tiny opera binoculars for a better look. And
probably drooling all over their expensive gowns as well. Chloe had to admit
that the cut of the coat he wore now fit him perfectly, its dark charcoal color
making his hair ebony and his eyes even darker. The stark white of his
shirt—no doubt custom-made as well—was snow-dazzling in its intensity.
And Lord, she’d love to slowly unknot that tie and unbutton— With a sigh,
she pulled herself out of the errant fantasy.
“You certainly won’t be needing a tux either. Not for the places where we’re
going. Come on,” she said taking his arm and tugging him toward The Gap.
“We can find everything you need to blend in right here.”
However, half an hour later she wasn’t so sure. The black t-shirt stretched
over perfectly-sculpted pecs and biceps and clung to his flat belly—she could
practically see the ridges of a six-pack, although maybe that was her
imagination, given her penchant for romance cover models. But the tight
Levis weren’t. They outlined well-developed thighs and really nice, tight
buns. Gavin wasn’t going to blend in anywhere. Already, as they were
exiting the mall, women were stopping to gape at him, including one
grandma-type with blue hair that ran into a stone bench.
“Where to next?” he asked as Chloe stared the car.
“I thought I might show you some of the spots the dragon was sighted,” she
said. “Then tomorrow, we’ll go over to the temp agency where Sara and
Michael worked and ask around.”
“Can we do that in the evening?”
“They’ll be closed.” Chloe slanted a glance at him as she eased into traffic.
“In the three days I’ve known you, I’ve only seen you at night.” She smiled,
her dimple showing. “Are you some kind of vampire?”
For a moment his eyes glittered like black diamonds as he stared back at
her. “What if I told you I was?”
She felt her eyes widen and then she laughed. “That’d be cool! I could use
that in a story. Sexy vampire—“
“My eyes are sensitive to light,” he interrupted.
“Oh.” That made sense, she supposed, although a little shiver went down
her spine. Not that vampires existed, but Gavin would make a really, really
sexy one— With a sigh, she put that idea on a shelf too. In spite of his looks,
he was almost as serious as Mr. Spock.
Geez.
****
temp agency. He glanced over at Chloe exiting the driver’s seat, her luscious
rump barely covered by another pair of shorts. Did the girl truly not have the
means to cover herself properly? Maybe she should have been the one
buying clothes yesterday—and then he felt a smidgen of guilt. He should
have offered to purchase some items for her. He certainly could afford it.
He’d spent time at Arthur’s court and others as well. It would have been the
gallant thing to do, but somehow, in this century, such deeds were perceived
as sexist.
He did manage to get to the door of the building and open it for her. She
gave him an odd look, but muttered thanks and he refrained from giving her
a courtly bow. Chloe seemed to have an odd effect on him. He hadn’t felt
knightly or even protective of anyone in centuries—not that she was asking
for protection. She’d probably shun the very idea. Gavin shook his head. She
reminded him of a faerie nymph—free-spirited and independent…
And faeries were usually trouble.
She’d gotten perilously close to the truth last night, asking him, if only in
jest, whether he was a vampire. Over the years, he’d learned to cover the
truth by sometimes telling the truth in such a way that people thought he
was the one who was jesting. Had it worked on Chloe?
“You can take the shades off now,” she said, showing her dimple again.
He slipped them off as a middle-aged lady approached them. “I’m
Stephanie, the manager. Can I help you?” she asked with a friendly smile.
Chloe showed her news credentials and turned to introduce him. “This is
Inspector Myles —”
“Private investigator hired by Mr. Smith,” Gavin interrupted before Chloe
spilled the beans about Scotland Yard and who-knows-what else. “He’s very
concerned about Sara Kincaid’s disappearance.”
Stephanie’s face fell. “It’s so sad. There hasn’t been a clue. I suppose we
should be glad a body hasn’t turned up.”
“That’s true,” Chloe said encouragingly. “When was the last time you spoke
to her?”
“As I told the police, Sara called me when she and that nice-looking Lucas
Ramsey were on their way to Maine. She was all excited about looking for
that weapon that Mr. Smith wanted.” The older woman’s lower lip trembled.
“The man already has a whole arsenal of medieval weapons. Why poor Sara
had to go looking for another one I don’t know. You’d think Mr. Smith would
be satisfied with what he has, but no. He got all excited about that old
manuscript and this spear being from King Arthur’s time. As if all that was
real in the first place.”
It was real all right, but the fewer people who knew how real, the better.
“I’ve found that collectors often get obsessed over such discoveries,” Gavin
said. “Lucas Ramsey was my partner which is why Mr. Smith hired me. Rest
assured, if Lucas was with Sara, he’d protect her with his life.”
Stephanie brightened a little and Chloe gave him another odd look, but
surprisingly, didn’t have a comment.
“Well, Michael did say he felt they might be safe-keeping the spear
somewhere,” Stephanie said.
The warlock again. “Why did he feel that way?”
She shrugged. “He didn’t say exactly, but Sara told me someone else was
looking for the spear too and it was important they found it first. Then
Michael—” Her eyes filled with tears. “—Michael got involved with Mr. Smith
too, looking for an old sword. And then he disappeared… I don’t know any
more. It’s just been hard,” she said, dabbing at her eyes as a young man
came through the front entrance. Stephanie managed a smile. “I can use
you here today, Troy, getting records uploaded to our new files.”
“Sure,” he said, glancing from her to Gavin and Chloe. “Is anything wrong?”
“No, dear. These people are trying to help find Sara and Michael.” She
turned to them as Gavin and Chloe stood to leave. “This is Troy Sutton. He’s
been a godsend since Michael and Sara have been gone.”
Gavin extended his hand. “Gavin Myles.”
Troy shook it, his blue eyes holding Gavin’s gaze, steady and searching. “I
hope you’re successful.”
Although Troy was young, the look he gave Gavin spoke of an old soul. As
they left, Gavin couldn’t help thinking that somewhere he had met this
young man before.
****
Balor inhaled deeply on his Cuban cigar and then blew a smoke ring as he
sat back in the heavily brocaded chair in his master suite. Alan Caldwell
suppressed a cough; he hated smoke and the hotel had an anti-smoking
policy, but what would Adam Baylor care about that?
Lucien chuckled as he handed Alan a snifter of brandy. “You’d better get
used to smoke, dude. I don’t think you’ll be going to the other place when
you die.”
Alan accepted the glass, avoiding swirling or sniffing it since his eyes were
already stinging. It wasn’t safe to show any sort of weakness around Baylor.
“I don’t believe in heaven or hell.”
Lucien arched an eyebrow. “That’s interesting. So you’re not afraid to die?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had no doubt that Lucien could be
every bit as ruthless as his brother, even if he did act more affable. As a
private investigator, Caldwell had been involved in enough good cop/bad cop
scenarios himself to recognize the tactic. He shrugged nonchalantly. “No one
wants to die.”
“Hear! Hear!” Balor said and raised his own glass in toast. “Today we
celebrate! Alan is firmly ensconced in Smith’s residence again. We’ll know as
soon as a clue comes in regarding the Dish. And,” he added as he swigged
some brandy, “there’s that woman reporter that’s sidled up to Smith and
gotten all cozy. Maybe this time you can actually get some information out
of her too.”
Alan winced inwardly, careful not to react. His attempt at seducing Sara
Kincaid had failed when Ramsey stepped in, and he’d let a stupid fencing
competition keep him from getting under the sheets with Sophie Cameron.
Getting females into bed was the easiest way to get information—women
loved to cuddle and talk after sex and all he had to do was ask the right
questions. “She seems like an easy mark.”
Balor took another long puff. “That’s what you said about the first two. Try
not to screw it up this time.”
Alan wondered if the use of the word ‘screw’ was intentional irony. He still
shuddered at the sexual torture Baylor had put him through the last time.
“You talking about that hot little number with the orange hair?” Lucien asked
as he poured another drink. “I wouldn’t mind getting a little information out
of her myself.”
Balor gave him an irritated look. “I told you before. Not this time. You’re
playing cop, remember?” Then he turned back to Alan. “Tell me more about
the man that Smith hired. I know he’s Scotland Yard. What’s he like? It’s
always good to know the enemy.”
Alan thought. Myles made him uneasy. His nearly black eyes were too
intense and penetrating, almost more predator than human, but Alan wasn’t
about to get fanciful with Baylor. “He’s aloof. Doesn’t say much. I got the
idea, though, that he didn’t miss anything.”
“Ummm. Perhaps I need to get Morgan to use her rather extensive skills on
him. Speaking of which,” he said as he glanced at his Rolex, “she’s late. I
don’t like late.”
Lucien’s eyes glinted. “I’ll be glad to punish her properly for you.”
As if on cue, a soft knock sounded on the door. Lucien opened it to allow
Morgan to come in. She gave him a sultry look and then glided over to
Baylor, sliding off her coat and loosening the pins that allowed her long, silky
black hair to flow down her back. She wasn’t wearing anything else except
five-inch heels.
Caldwell did a quick intake of air. God, she was beautiful. He’d always
thought she was hot, but he’d never seen her totally naked before. Full
breasts were firmly taunt, their hard, little nipples jaunting upward. Her
waist was tiny, her belly flat, her hips flared out gently and her shaven pubis
was already swollen and inviting. His own groin tightened.
Balor glanced at him and back to Morgan. His lips curved in what might be a
smile. “Would you like her, Caldwell?”
It was a loaded question. The bastard knew he was attracted to her. No
doubt he’d be forced to watch Morgan perform on Baylor while he watched.
It had happened before. “Who wouldn’t?” he asked.
Balor laughed. “Well, you’ve actually given me some important information
this time, so maybe you have earned a reward.” He gestured to Morgan.
“Service him while I watch.”
Caldwell started. Was she—?
Without a word, Morgan turned and gave him a seductive smile, swaying her
hips provocatively as she approached him. She brushed her bare mound
against his face, allowing him a delicious whiff of her woman scent before
she knelt to unzip his pants. His cock nearly jumped out and she smiled, her
soft hands manipulating his balls, kneading them and causing him to stiffen
even more. She pumped his shaft expertly, increasing and decreasing the
pressure while her tongue flicked over his head, teasing him with whisper
strokes, then lapping his ring with the tip of her tongue.
Caldwell felt like an untried schoolboy, about to burst without restraint. He
began to moan. Morgan glanced up at him through her lashes and leaned in
closer, taking him fully. He shut his eyes and leaned back. The sensation
was nearly unbearable as the hot wetness of her mouth closed over him and
her velvet tongue swirled around his granite erection, alternating with the
suction of her sucking him hard. He didn’t think he could hold out much
longer, but he never wanted this to end.
And then there was a subtle shift. His lashes fluttered and then his eyes
popped open. Lucien crouched behind Morgan, pumping into her in a frenzy.
Morgan gripped Alan’s thighs as Lucien’s rough thrusts pushed her face
against Caldwell, ramming his rod further down her throat. She mewled and
sucked harder, urging his release.
His breathing shallowed and the world dimmed, showering the darkness that
circled him with red sparks, only they looked like they were coming from
Lucien’s eyes—with a groan, he came, a strange power jolting through him
before he lost complete control of his mind.
****
of the vet clinic where Sophie Cameron had worked. The hem of the gauzy
skirt she wore caught on the shift, hiking it up to mid-thigh. “Darn it,” she
said and yanked it off, but not before she noticed Gavin had riveted his