Nightwind (31 page)

She looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

He watched keen pleasure flit across her upturned face; happiness put a gleam in her eyes. He drew in a

long breath, held it then exhaled slowly. “Aye, Sweeting. I’m sure.”

They were gettinginto the car at Wal-Mart when Ben Hurlbert hailed them. Syntian turned, an annoyed

frown on his face as the newly elected Sheriff came hurrying over to them.

“Syntian,” Hurlbert acknowledged as he skirted the front of the Porsche and reached out to open

Lauren’s door before her husband could. “How you been, Lauren?”

“Good and you?” she asked, a little embarrassed by the effusive way in which she had been greeted.

“Can’t complain,” Ben answered, grinning. He looked over Lauren’s head to Syntian. “Found that office

yet?”

“Not yet,” Syntian replied. He helped Lauren into the sports car and then looked at the Sheriff over the

door rim. “Is there something we can do for you?”

A faint tug of dislike crossed Ben’s face then slipped away as he shrugged. “I was just wondering if you

two would like to come to a little shindig I’m having out at my place this Sunday.”

“That’s the day of the raft race, isn’t it?” Lauren asked, glancing up at her husband and wondering why

he looked so angry.

“Yep, it sure is,” Ben agreed. “I’m gonna set the grill up and burn some steaks; throw some bottles of

Coors in the river and watch the tubes go by.”

“I believe we have a prior engagement,” Syntian answered, firmly shutting his wife’s door. He looked

down at her and something in his expression demanded that Lauren not correct him. He watched the

puzzlement begin to form on Lauren’s face then turned away, locking his stare with Ben’s. “Thanks for

asking, though.”

Ben looked down at Lauren and saw the guilt on her face. He glanced up at the woman’s husband and

tried to get past the hostile look on Cree’s face. “That’s a shame,” he finally said, knowing he was being

told a lie and thinking he knew why.

“Maybe some other time,” Syntian told him.

There was a current running from one man to the other as Lauren looked up at them through the open

window of the car. Their faces were set, and she thought with a fleeting sense of the ridiculous, had they

been dogs, she was sure their hackles would have been standing. She had to look away from them

before she started laughing.

“Tell me, Sheriff,” Syntian said as he walked around the rear of the car and opened his door. “Have you

ever found any trace of who killed Beth Janacek?”

Ben’s face flamed and he glared at his tormentor over the top of the car. “No. If I had, it would have

been in the paper.”

Syntian’s smile was slow and malicious. “I don’t have time to read the paper.” He lifted one thick dark

brow. “Lauren keeps me busy doing...” His smile widened. “...Other things.”

The red glow intensified in Ben’s cheeks and the man tore his gaze from the deadly insincere smile that

was aimed at his jugular. He looked down at Lauren then told her he hoped to see her soon. With one

last angry look at Syntian he headed toward the store.

Syntian stood where he was, one foot in the car, the other on the pavement of the parking lot, his right

arm on the top of the car, and stared at Ben Hurlbert. The man was handsome, as mortal men went. He

had dark hair and eyes and he was tall, although somewhat lanky. His face held just a touch of

squareness and his jaw was firm.

“That was rude,” Lauren said.

Getting into the car, Syntian glanced over at his wife. “He’s in love with you.”

Lauren stared at him as he bent forward to crank the car. “You’re not serious.”

He eased up on the clutch and backed the Porsche out of the parking slot. “And he knows I know it.”

There didn’t seem anything she could say as he nosed the sports car out of the parking lot. She simply

stared at his profile, seeing the anger in the way he kept his jaw clenched. “The thing is,” he said, “he

knows I’m not going to let him do anything about it.” He looked at his wife. “You want an ice cream

cone?”

Lauren’s mouth dropped open. “An ice cream cone?”

“At Micky D’s,” he answered, shifting lanes.

“No, I don’t want an ice cream cone,” she snapped. “I want to know why you told Benny we couldn’t

go up to his place this Sunday.”

“I just told you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You weren’t listening then.”

They were silent all the way down Highway 90. He pulled into the fast food restaurant’s parking lot and

headed for the drive-thru. When he spoke again—as though there had been no silence between

them—his voice was firm.

“I said he was in love with you and I wasn’t going to let him do anything about it.” He rolled down his

window at the order kiosk.

“May I take your order, please?” came the hollow, girlish voice.

“A chocolate swirl and a glass of water,” he ordered.

“I don’t believe you,” Lauren said with exasperation as he rolled his window up and pulled in behind the

car ahead of them.

“What don’t you believe? The ice cream or the water?”

“Syntian,” she warned in that long, drawn out way a woman has of reprimanding her mate.

“I’m not taking you out to that bastard’s place so he can flirt with you, Lauren,” he announced as he dug

into his pocket for the change to pay for the cone. “And that’s all there is to it.”

A fierce pride went through Lauren’s heart, along with a hint of laughter at his stony face as he turned to

let her know he meant what he said. “You’re jealous.”

“No, I’m not,” he denied, lowering his window down to pay the girl. He took the cone and wrapped it in

a napkin before handing it to his wife.

“Yes, you are.” Lauren grinned.

“No, I’m not!” he hissed from between clenched teeth. He took his cup of water then rolled the window

back up.

“As jealous as you can be.”

He glared at her. “Whatever you say.”

She bit into her ice cream cone. “And I think I like it.”

He grunted, took a sip of his water, and pulled out of the parking lot into the traffic.

Ben said helloto the bartender at McGuire’s Irish Pub. He ordered a draft and nodded at the two young

Navy fly boys who were sitting at the bar. “You guys at Mainside or Whiting?” he asked as the frosty

beer was placed in front of him.

“Whiting,” one of them answered.

“Just got assigned here.”

“Where you from?” Ben asked as he wiped the foam from his upper lip.

“Pete’s from Tampa and I’m from Columbia, South Carolina,” the taller of the two said. He finished off

his beer and ordered another. “Name’s Mike.” He held out his hand.

“Southern boys,” Ben grinned, shaking hands with both young men. “That’s the best there are.” He took

a long gulp of his brew.

“What do you do?” the one called Pete asked.

“He turns a girl’s head is what he does.”

Ben jumped, hearing the voice almost in his ear. He looked around and saw a beautiful blond-haired

woman giving him an appraising grin. He smiled at her.

“I’m Raja,” the woman told him, running her hand up his back and onto his shoulder. “What’s your

name, darlin’?”

Ben swallowed the beer in his mouth. “Ben,” he answered. “Ben Hurlbert.”

The woman’s blue eyes glowed. “And what do you do Ben-Ben Hurlbert?” She ran her finger down his

arm.

“C...cop,” he stammered, feeling the path of her finger as it moved down to the back of his hand.

“That’s nice,” she said in a low, throaty voice. “I’ve always wondered what it was like to do it with an

officer of the law.”

The two Navy men chuckled, eyeing one another with knowing looks. The shorter of the two, the one

named Pete, slapped Ben on the back. “I think she wants to show you a little southern hospitality, dude!”

Raja sidled closer to Ben. She fused her gaze with his surprised one. “That’s not all I’d like to show

him.”

Ben stared at her, the bulge in his trousers becoming harder and harder as the woman’s blue gaze

traveled down his frame then settled with heat on his face.

“How about it, Ben-Ben Hurlbert?” she challenged, coming so close to him the tips of her lush breasts

poked into his khaki safari shirt. “Wanna play cop and hooker?”

Ben felt a shooting spark of pure lust travel through his belly and he stepped back, downed the rest of

his beer, slammed the stein down on the bar, and took the woman’s slim arm in his hand.

“Lady,” he said on a throaty grunt, “I’m placing you under arrest!”

“Place me under you, baby,” Raja said, “and I’ll show you what a real woman can do!”

The two Navy flyers nudged one another as they watched Hurlbert leaving the pub with the tall, willowy

woman in tow.

“I think he felt the need for speed.” The taller of them chuckled.

“He definitely ain’t lost that loving feeling!” his brother-in-arms replied dryly.

It hadn’t beenall that hard, Syntian thought, as he drove recklessly back to Milton from Pensacola.

Actually, it had been easier than he would have expected. Getting out of the house, lying to Lauren about

where he was going, had been harder than the rest of it. That was something he didn’t like to do: Lie to

Lauren.

By his calculations, he had a little less than an hour in which to do what had to be done. Less than that if

he got caught speeding down Highway 90. He eased his foot off the accelerator as he drove through

Pace. It wouldn’t do to attract attention to the black car and himself.

He’d done it only once before, he thought with a grimace of distaste. A long, long time ago. What had

been her name? He tried to remember. Theresa? Bridget? Siobann? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t

matter. She’d wanted a baby and he had provided her with one.

“And will ye be giving me one with bonny blue eyes and bright red hair, my lover?” she’d asked him.

“I will give you whatever you want, milady,” he’d told her.

The little girl had been born with her father’s flaming red hair and piercing blue eyes. Although he

couldn’t remember the woman’s name, he had never forgotten the man’s: Seamus.

Syntian shuddered, his gorge rising in his throat. No, he hadn’t forgotten the producer of the seed that

had given the Irish woman her wee bairn with flaming red hair and blue, blue eyes. And he knew he’d

never forget Ben Hurlbert, either.

Or the man’s mouth.

Or his hands.

Or his sickening thrusts.

Syntian’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He still smelled the musky, cheap scent of Hurlbert’s

Avon cologne. It had invaded his nostrils like the scent of putrefying flesh. He imagined it clung to his own

flesh and he reached out to open the car window to get rid of the smell.

The only thing difficult about the entire business had been making sure Hurlbert had not used the condom

he had insisted on using. There had been a moment when the Sheriff’s notion of safe sex and Syntian’s

own needs had come at loggerheads. Syntian had won out and the stupid bastard’s sperm was wiggling

around inside a body that was disgusted by it.

“Shit,” Syntian hissed, running his hand over his sweaty face. He stopped at the traffic light by the Pace

High school turn off and lowered his head to the steering wheel, overcome with nausea and loathing. He

squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to puke, wanting to rid himself of the smell and the feel and the seed of

Benjamin Hurlbert.

That he would have to inject that seed into his own wife filled Syntian with a disgust that bordered on

insanity. That Lauren would bear Ben Hurlbert’s child, was a torment that came close to the pain he had

felt when Tsahan had been murdered.

“It’s what she wants,” he mumbled to himself, unaware that the light had turned green. “She wants a

baby.”

A horn blared at him and Syntian jerked his head up, staring with anger at the car behind him. He stuck

his hand out the window and acknowledged the driver behind with a stiff finger. The horn blasted again

and Syntian just sat there, hoping the driver would get out and come at him.

Realizing he might have started something he couldn’t finish, the driver of the blue BMW behind Syntian

backed up, came around the Porsche with a long triumphant blare of his horn. The driver shot his hand

out the window of his automobile and repeated Syntian’s greeting before peeling off.

“Die, you bastard,” Syntian growled, narrowing his gaze. He watched as the driver lost control of the car

and the vehicle spun crazily around in the road before flipping end over end into the ditch. It landed on its

top and burst into flames. He drove past the crackling fire, ignoring it. His mind was on Lauren and what

he had to do.

It was almostdawn. He sat on the long back porch of his home and stared off into the dark pine thicket

that was becoming alive with birds and scavenging animals. In the master bedroom above him, Lauren

was sound asleep, her body already seeded with the child she wanted.

He hung his head, bloody tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Syntian.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Syntian, come to me...”

He slapped his hands over his ears to blot out the insistent sound of Angeline’s voice. “Go away!”

“Don’t make me send Del after you, Syntian.”

He lowered his hands, brought them around to press his fingertips over his eyes. His entire body seemed

to sag with defeat. “Leave me alone, Angeline.”

“Come, Syntian,”
was the demand.
“I command you, demon.”

“Why are you tormenting me like this?” he whimpered, his heart breaking
.