Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels (84 page)

I parted my lips, trying to think of how to respond.

But he was across the bed before I had the chance, pressing me down into the pillows, his mouth on mine, his body settling against mine. The length of him pressed into me, and it made me feel warm and weak.

I kissed him back, running my hands over his back, over his muscular ass. His body was perfection.

His lips moved from my lips to my jaw, my neck.

I gasped. “We shouldn’t do that, Vigil. We shouldn’t splinter your personality like that. It doesn’t sound healthy.”

“I don’t care,” he said, his mouth moving over my collarbone. He was peeling the sheets away from my flesh, uncovering me.

My body felt loose and languid. God. I wanted him again. “You’re only one person.”

He bared my breasts. He closed his lips around my nipple.

I cried out.

“Whatever one person I am right now,” he said, “I’m yours.”

Three orgasms later, Vigil tried the door to my room and found it locked. He laughed helplessly against the door. “Trapped in my own house.”

Was it his house? When he was Vigil, did he think of himself as owning the things that Callum owned? Oh, hell, this was all too fucked up for words. I was an idiot to be part of it at all. I needed to start thinking with my head instead my… well.

He grinned at me. “I promised you breakfast, and I’m going to get it for you.”

I was lying on the bed, amid the scattered pillows. I was kind of starving, but I didn’t want to admit it, because once I did, we were going to have to broach the subject that he couldn’t eat breakfast with me in his Vigil suit. There was something too weird about that.

Maybe I could reconcile the sex part. After all, people sometimes liked to use costumes for kinky little sex games. We could call the Vigil costume that, and maybe it wasn’t that weird.

(Okay, it was, but…)

Eating breakfast dressed in spandex with a mask obscuring his face, though? That was crossing a line somehow.

“I’ll swing out the window,” he said. “And I’ll be back.”

I bit my lip. “You’ll be back, or… Callum will?”

He hesitated.

“You can’t eat breakfast with me as Vigil. It’s obscene.”

“No,” he said. “The way we were with each other yesterday morning when I wasn’t in costume.
That
was obscene.”

“It’ll be different,” I said.

He swallowed.

While he was gone, I took a shower, and then I put on the news when I was getting dressed. I wasn’t a big fan of watching the news on TV, preferring to get my news from the paper, but I didn’t have a paper, so I had to make do.

Yesterday, I’d spent the day vegging, not keeping up with current events. I needed to check in quickly, just to see what was going on in the world.

Not to mention the fact that being cooped up here had kept me from checking in at
The Sun-Times
. Even though I had the weekend off, I usually swung by the offices on my days off. The news moved fast, and being away for too long could mean missing something very important.

I found a local news network, but the minute I tuned in, my stomach turned over.

“…found last night with this message carved into her skin: ‘Keeping vigil?’” said a woman in a blue suit, her expression grave. “Clearly, this is meant for the masked vigilante that has been calling himself Vigil. The Phantom’s attempt to kill girls has been thwarted by Vigil until last night.”

A picture flashed on the screen of a seedy pub on the dock.

The woman’s voice continued. “This is the club where twenty-two-year-old Janis Lansky was found last night. Her legs were cut off, as is The Phantom’s M.O. Ms. Lansky worked as a dancer, and is survived by two small children.”

I felt cold and clammy all over. Last night?

So while Vigil was fucking me, The Phantom was killing another girl.

“Our correspondent, Tim Matthias is on the scene,” said the woman on the screen. “Tim, what can you tell us?”

“Not much, Sheila,” said Tim. “The police are still working on locking down the crime scene. Ms. Lansky was found this morning by a coworker. She had been brought back to her place of employment and put on some kind of display, but we don’t have any more information on it than that.”

“This is just a horrible thing,” said Sheila. Now the screen was split between them.

“Oh, absolutely tragic,” said Tim. “And I think the question on everyone’s minds is, ‘Where was Vigil?’”

“This is prompting conversation from all over the city on whether it’s a good thing for us to be dependent on a masked madman to save us from another masked madman,” said Sheila. “Is Vigil keeping us safe, or is he simply egging men like The Phantom on?”

“We have to ask the question if we’d have someone like The Phantom if it weren’t for Vigil,” said Tim.

The door to my room opened.

Callum stood there. He saw my face. “See, this is why I didn’t want to be here if I wasn’t in the—”

“No,” I said. I pointed at the television.

CHAPTER NINE

Nolan had brought food for us, but neither of us felt hungry. In fact, neither of us had said much since I’d switched off the television. Callum had switched between two other channels, making sure he got the entire story.

The Phantom had killed another girl.

Vigil hadn’t been on the street to stop him.

Because he’d been with me. It was my fault. I’d distracted him. We’d been caught up in each other, and we didn’t have any right to do things like that. Not when there were girls in danger.

But after the third time I’d heard a news anchor go through the whole sordid deal, I’d snatched up the remote and turned off the television. I didn’t need to hear it again. I got it. I knew what had happened.

Now we sat in silence, the blueberry pancakes on our plates growing cold.

“I made you a promise,” Callum finally said.

A promise? I didn’t know what he was talking about. “What?”

“I told you that I wouldn’t let him kill any more girls.”

Oh. That was right. It was our deal. It was my price for not revealing the identity of The Phantom. “Don’t worry. I don’t think exposing Barclay’s identity right now would help anything.”

He dragged a hand over his flawless features, his face blank. “I failed that girl.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s my fault,” I said. “I distracted you.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I kissed you. I undressed you. I started it. I was so intent on making sure that you didn’t write that damned article. You made me so angry I couldn’t see straight. But then… when I’m in that costume, everything’s different.” He sighed.

I studied my fingernails. “Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe we should take it to mean that we shouldn’t ever be together again.”

He looked at me sharply. “Don’t say that. You and that fucking mask are the best things that ever happened to me.”

I was? Really?

But why was the mask so important? He was a very rich man. He could have anything he wanted. How could being a masked vigilante be one of the best things that ever happened to him? I didn’t understand. There was so much I didn’t know about him.

And even though I’d been very intimate with him last night, the man sitting across from me at the table still felt to me like a stranger. He didn’t seem like the same man I’d made love to. It was disturbing and strange.

He got up from the table. “No. I just need to figure out how to balance it. I don’t want to stop making love to you. Ever.”

I felt my insides lurch. I liked him saying that. I couldn’t deny that I did. I took a deep breath. “It’s going to take more than balance.”

“What do you mean?” He went to the railing, gripping it the way he’d made me hold onto it last night.

Memories of the night before slashed through me, and for a minute I was engulfed in them. The feel of his hands on me, his shaft in me, his mouth against mine.

I gulped, pulling myself together. “We’ve got to stop The Phantom once and for all.”

“Stop him?”

“That’s right.”

“I already told you, Cecily, I won’t kill him. I can’t do that.”

“I’m not talking about killing him,” I said. “I’m talking about exposing what he does in the most public way possible, with so much evidence that no one will be able to deny that he’s guilty. I’m talking about the kind of story that I wanted to write in the first place. A story that blows it all open.”

He turned slowly towards me. “I don’t know. I don’t think it would make a difference. He’s still going to be Hayden Barclay. He’s still got tons of corrupt people at his fingertips.”

“Corrupt, yes,” I said. “But are they people who will condone the actions of a serial killer? I know that the mob is responsible for murder, but they don’t kill people for fun. They only kill them when it’s necessary. Even corrupt people who are making money from organized crime are going to think that a serial killer’s messed up in the head.”

“He’ll weasel out of it. He’ll make it look like he didn’t do it.”

“Well, that’s what we have to stop. We need iron clad evidence against him. We need to make it so obvious that he did it, that he can’t weasel out of it.”

“And then you publish that story?” Callum came back to the table. He sat down.

“Yeah,” I said. “But, of course, all the credit goes to Vigil, for taking down The Phantom.”

He considered. “Maybe it could work.”

“It will work,” I said. “You and I can work together to find the evidence we need.”

“What kind of evidence we talking here?”

“We need the legs, Callum.”

He grimaced.

“Seriously? Did you just make a face?” I said.

“No,” he said, sounding sullen.

“Vigil would not make a face,” I said. “Vigil would not use that tone of voice.”

“And you wouldn’t talk to me like that if I was wearing the damned costume.”

I sighed.

He took a deep breath. “All right, so you’re saying that we’re going looking for women’s legs. The legs of the victims.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Some of those girls have been dead for a long time now. What makes you think there’s anything to find?”

“They’re trophies. He removed them for a reason. He’s keeping them somewhere.”

Callum grimaced again. “Why would he do that?”

“Don’t you know anything about serial killers?”

He shrugged.

“Serial killers like to keep trophies.”

He looked at me blankly.

“They’re like keepsakes from the murder. Something to look at, so that the killer can relive the crime again.”

“Ew,” said Callum. “I would never do something like that.”

“No one’s saying you would.” I looked at him, feeling suddenly cold. “Why would you say something like that?”

He picked up his fork and cut off a bite of his blueberry pancake. “No reason.”

No reason? It was completely out of left field to personally identify with what the killer was doing. And to deny that he would do something like the killer, he had to have been identifying with him. Why would he do that? “I don’t suppose you feel like telling me how you’re connected to Barclay, do you?”

He popped a bite of pancake in his mouth and chewed.

That was strange too, wasn’t it? Two minutes ago, he’d been making grossed-out faces. Now, he was eating?

“I don’t think so,” he said. “You already know too many of my secrets.”

That reminded me of the strippers that he paid to be his girlfriends. Why did he do
that
? Was I sure that I could trust this guy?

No, I realized. I wasn’t. In fact, rationally, everything about him screamed at me to run away. He had identity issues so strong that he seemed like a different person when he put on a costume. He claimed to be connected to a serial killer. He’d been unsure that he could have sex with me if he were facing me. All of those things taken together sounded like they added up to something pretty weird and scary.

And yet, here I was, calmly eating breakfast with him after being intimate with him last night.

Well.

I was going to get a really good story out of this.

I was.

Maybe I could convince myself this was all in the noble pursuit of the news, not just some stupid thing I was doing because I was becoming cock whipped.

He caught my gaze with his blue eyes. “Cecily? You okay?”

I nodded. I was a little sarcastic. “Fine. Everything about this situation is just fine.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, things are crazy, I’ll give you that.”

“But you’ll help me with The Phantom?”

“You’ll keep my identity secret?” he said. “And you promise me The Phantom lives?”

“I promise not to kill him myself,” I said. “That’s the best I can do.”