Nightwalker (6 page)

S
triker forced himself to not think about kissing Takala. He felt the moment she stopped fighting him and grew pliant in his arms, her breasts a seductive weight against his chest. Then she was responding to him. Her warm hands reached around his neck and grabbed his ponytail, her lips softening. Her hands twined in the back of his ponytail, shooting hot vibrations along his neck. It took all of his concentration to shift his attention back to Culler and her contact.

Striker opened an eye and glanced over Takala's head. He had successfully diverted the serpent shifter's attention, and he and Culler huddled together at the bar, deep in a serious conversation. Striker tuned in on their words.

“Philippe, I need to get in touch with Raithe,” Culler said, speaking in French.

“You know the rules. He contacts you.”

“But he hasn't called, and I'm being hunted. Nightwalker wants me dead. He hired hover demons to kill me. Please ask him to contact me right away. He can't leave me hung out to dry here. He owes me.”

“Raithe owes no one anything, Lilly. People are indebted to him. You should know that. When he found out you were a snitch, he let you live, didn't he?”

“He made me set up those agents so he could get off on tormenting Nightwalker. We're more than even. The least he could do is help me now. I need protection.”

So, Raithe knew Culler worked for Striker. The killing of his agents had been masterminded by Raithe. Raithe had to prove that he was one step ahead of Striker, that he would always be superior. Well, Raithe wasn't perfect. He would slip up one day, and Striker would be there. He felt Takala squirming in his arms, and he realized he was crushing her. He loosened his grip, aware of her long, lean warmth against him.

She seemed content now, and he continued his onslaught of her mouth, letting the total awareness of her assuage his need to destroy something at the moment.

“I'll see what he says,” Philippe said.

“Please, tell him I'm desperate.” Culler finished off the drink.

“Aren't we all, sweetheart.”

Culler shot him a petulant glare, then weaved her way to the door.

Philippe shook his head at Culler's back, as if she had just signed her death warrant. Then he stood and walked toward the front door. His gait weaved a little, a sure sign he wasn't comfortable with human legs.

Striker broke the kiss, saw the dazed look in Takala's
eyes and knew she felt the same sexual attraction he was feeling. He didn't need that particular complication right now. Forcing his mind back on his responsibilities, he pulled out his phone and said, “Follow the target. But do not intercept.”

“Affirmative, sir.”

Striker closed the phone and pulled Takala toward the front door. “We have to go.”

“Wait a minute! What about Lilly?”

“She's gone.”

“Gone?” Takala glanced frantically toward the bar.

“You should be more observant.”

“Stop kissing me and I might.”

“Are you saying I distract you?” A smile turned up his lips while he guided her through the crowd.

“Not on your life. It's just damn annoying.” She jerked her hand out of his.

“I needed cover while I listened to their conversation.” He reached the door and forced her to wait a second or two; then they stepped out. This was the closest he'd ever been to finding Raithe, and he couldn't let Philippe out of his sight.

“What did they say?”

“Culler blamed me for the attack, when she knows full well it is someone else's doing. I think she's playing some kind of double-crossing game to pit us against each other and come out smelling like a rose.”

“Nobody wins in this deal.”

“Very true.” He laced his hand in hers and wondered if he had already lost.

She let him steer her down the street while he kept his eyes on Philippe, who was getting into a Tesla.

They were losing too much ground, so Striker picked her up and fast-forwarded them to the car. They moved so quickly her equilibrium hadn't caught up, and she staggered when he set her down near the car.

“Jeez, I'll never get used to traveling like that. My head's still on a merry-go-round.”

He had to hold her, and her body brushed his. Desire flared through him again, and he cursed under his breath.

“Did you say something?” she asked as he opened the car door and stuffed her inside.

“No.” He jumped into the driver's seat. In seconds he was in the flow of traffic, keeping a safe distance from the Tesla.

“You're following too close. I always keep four car lengths behind a target.”

Striker glowered at her. “Thank you for the advice, but I was shadowing suspects before you were born.”

“Did you lose any?” She cut her eyes at him.

“I always get what I go after.” Striker shot her a pointed look. He didn't know why, but it annoyed him that she questioned his efficiency.

“So do I.” She stared back at him, straight into his eyes.

In order to drive, he had to glance away first. He found himself wanting to grab her and kiss that superior look off her face. She really didn't know how close she was to danger.

His voice came out sharp as he changed the subject. “You put us both in danger by not staying in the car. Next time, obey my orders. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly.”

Her voice wasn't as compliant as he would have liked. In fact, he detected willfulness in the one word. Was she growing resistant to his power? He could hardly fathom it. No, it must be her pugnacious strength of character that affected her suggestibility. He had never known a human, charmed or not, able to resist his hypnotic intimidation. But then he had never met a woman as reckless and as physically powerful as Takala Rainwater. And he disliked it immensely. If she continued to defy him, she would get them both killed.

Silence fell between them, the only sound the purr of the engine. Irritation still nagged at him, and he knew why: his own weakness. That kiss. Twice now he had made the same mistake. And it was not because he hadn't had alternatives. He didn't have to kiss her in the plane. And in the bar, he could have pulled her into a shadow and not been seen. He had to stop touching her, smelling her, feeling her blood pumping through her veins. No one knew better than he that desire could destroy him and anyone near him. He had to get a handle on it. He would, he promised himself.

 

“How long are we going to sit here?” Takala shifted restlessly in her seat. They were somewhere in the Monnaie area of Paris. They had followed the two-skin to a four-story brownstone. The house looked well cared for, its black iron railings and fence sparkling beneath a streetlamp.

“A while, I think.” He hadn't bothered looking at her as he spoke.

As she stared at his attractive profile, replays of that last kiss repeated in her head; Striker's powerfully built
body touching hers, the aroma of butter rum mixing with the starch on his dress shirt and assailing her senses, his permanent five o'clock shadow abrading her skin in an oh-so-masculine way, making her shiver and want to feel that roughness move down to lower parts of her body. She could still feel his hands splayed on the small of her back, his powerful lips working their magic on her mouth. And she had turned to mush in his arms, kissing him back in a wanton way. Totally embarrassing.

Why had she responded to him? To a vampire, one she didn't trust? Okay, he was one of the sexiest vamps on the planet—a blond Hugh Jackman with fangs. And his golden hair was as soft as it looked—she'd found that out when she ran her hands through his ponytail in the bar. She kept wondering if he ever wore his hair loose. She'd like to see it down. And something about those pristine suits he wore made her want to rub her hands over every inch of the fabric and wrinkle it. Damn it, everything about him drew her to him, except the cold, distant expression in his eyes. It frightened her. Held every sin imaginable. Something about them was obscenely knowledgeable, able to pry the darkest secrets from her soul.

Hadn't she learned yet? All men were risky. Hadn't she promised herself after breaking up with Akando that she was done with men for good? Somehow she would stick to that pledge. All she had to do was think about all the breakups, the agony men had put her through. No, she was definitely over them.

She shifted in her seat, and her eyes strayed back to Striker. He sat so still. Hadn't moved a muscle since they
parked the car, nor had his dogged gaze shifted from the brownstone. He seemed preoccupied.

His stillness fascinated her. She didn't think she'd ever get used to his undead motionlessness. Was that the way it was with all vamps? Either they were stone statues, or they moved at light speed? No wonder they had proved to be man's most adept predator. How many women had Striker snacked on? A tiny shiver went through her as she considered that question.

“What are you doing?” she asked, hoping to get her mind off the fact that she was fighting an attraction to a guy who could kill her with one bite. “You seem centered on something in the house.”

“I'm listening to our target take a shower.”

“Wow, I didn't know vampires hear that far away.”

“We like to surprise humans.” A wicked half smile toyed with the corner of his mouth.

It turned butterflies lose in her stomach. “Humans that know about you,” she added, trying not to think about the kiss again.

“Consider yourself one of the fortunate ones.”

“I don't know if it's so good knowing what prowls the night.”

“Vampires aren't as bad as some of the things out there.”

“Yeah, but they aren't candy stripers, either.” She folded her arms over her chest and stared at the brownstone.

“In my line of work, I've seen worse,” he said, his voice full of ennui, as if the world bored him.

“I bet you have. You've probably got a few of them working for you, too.”

“Like Lilly Smith.”

“Don't talk about her like that.”

“You need to realize the truth. She'll get you killed.”

“See! That right there is annoying. You don't know if that'll happen.”

“She's been programmed to kill. She lacks a conscience. She'll have no compunction in having you killed.” His deep purple eyes didn't show a glimmer of emotion, but his words spewed venomous truth.

“I don't care. I can't just walk away, so stop warning me about her. I wish we weren't working together.” She heard the frustration in her own voice. “I work better alone, anyway.”

“Unfortunately, we're stuck with each other until I put you on a plane to America.”

“But you won't, not now.”

“Only if you follow orders. I know it is hard for you.”

She hadn't meant to argue with him, but he was infuriating. “What does that mean?”

“You have a problem with authority.”

“I guess I do when you're calling all the shots.” Takala realized she had raised her voice, but his tone had stayed at the same even keel. She bit back all the rejoinders she had for him. It wouldn't do to ruin her chances of keeping him close. At least she would know where Lilly was and that she was safe.

“My case, and I am in charge, but if you wish to leave, I can have you taken to a hotel.” He spoke to her as if he were humoring a child.

“Why do I have a feeling you'll have me watched?”

“I will not have this case compromised.”

“I know what I'm doing.”

“You are out of your league on this one. You should be grateful I'm offering you protection.”

“Gee, thanks. What about Lilly? Can you say the same thing about her?”

“For the time being, my people will see that she remains safe.”

“Do you trust your agents?”

“Absolutely.”

“You've already had one defection with Lilly herself.” She saw him flinch, which was a miracle.

He drew in a long, patient breath and said, “It happens with undercover agents sometimes. Unfortunately, they turn.”

“So why are we following this creep?”

“At the moment, he's my only other lead to Raithe.”

Takala felt her gut clench at the name. “Is this Raithe an old vamp?”

Striker nodded.

“Is his nickname Aconite?”

“One of many.”

“Then I've heard of him.” She didn't want to mention that her knowledge of Aconite's evil notoriety came from stories of previous Guardians, her ancestors. The less he knew about her background, the better. “So, Lilly Smith is involved with Raithe?” Takala wanted to believe her mother had more integrity than that.

“Deeply.”

She frowned and said, “You and Raithe have a history?”

“A long one.”

Takala picked up on the brutal overtones in his voice.
She hesitated a moment, then said, “You're settling old scores, and Lilly's caught between you.”

“She chose to betray and kill my men. I wouldn't say she's caught.”

“Maybe she had no choice.”

“You try to justify her actions?” His voice dripped with scorn.

“There's no justification for murder. I'm just saying Raithe might have forced her. You are assuming the worst.”

“Could someone force you into killing five innocent men?”

“No.” Takala pouted. She had reached the end of the line. Out of excuses for Lilly Smith. But she had to keep her out of harm's way. Striker obviously didn't care about Lilly's safety. He just wanted Raithe. Takala was all Lilly had, and she couldn't just abandon her own mother, even if she was a killer and had abandoned Takala and her sisters as children. Two wrongs didn't make a right.

She realized she was tired and hungry and sick of being ordered about and kissed by an arrogant vampire. Well, the kissing part really wasn't so bad— No, no, no! She was off all men. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Then she was sleeping and dreaming of vampires attacking her from all angles.