Personal Demon (20 page)

“I’ll give you a lift.”

“Oh? Uh, sure. Where are you parked?”

“Just down the road.”

He put his hand on my elbow and started leading me along the darkened sidewalk. “I want to stop by the club first, grab my stuff.”

“Sure.”

“We could probably use a drink too.” A smile my way. “On the house.”

Shit. In other words, Guy still wanted to talk. I knew I should take advantage, but my brain was spinning with worries about Jaz, and worries about Karl now too, whether he’d know where I’d gone, whether he’d remember to sniff the balcony and under it.

So how to say no to Guy without sounding like I was giving him the brush-off?

“Miss?”

I turned to see Karl approaching. He wore an ill-fitting blazer, shoulders straining the seams—a jacket meant for a thinner man, probably from Sonny’s closet. He dipped his head deferentially.

“You wanted me to wait with the cab, miss?”

His accent was a Deep South drawl, copied from Clayton, if I was any judge.

“Uh, no,” I said. “I didn’t say that, but if you’ve been waiting, I guess I should—”

“Hold on.” Guy took a couple of twenties from his pocket. “There. Go.”

Karl took a hard look at Guy, then his gaze slipped to me. “This man bothering you, miss?”

“Yeah,” Guy said, words sharp. “I’m a black guy in a bad neighborhood. Of course I’m bothering her.

Now, beat it, asshole, or—”

“I was just asking, son. No need to get your back up.”

Guy took a step toward Karl. “I’m not your son—”

I jumped between them, which was what Karl was hoping for. Rile Guy up and give me an excuse to get flustered.

I turned to Guy. “Please don’t. Not tonight. I—I should just go, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Guy protested, but I made it clear I didn’t want trouble and he stood watch as Karl led me back to the Lexus.

“Seems someone was hoping for a little company tonight,” Karl mused. “Some mutual comforting perhaps in the wake of the crisis?”

“Trust me, Guy’s not interested in the opposite sex.”

Karl backed the car out. “Oh, I’m quite certain you’re mistaken.”

“Have a sixth sense for these things, do you?”

“No, but I have an excellent sense for signs of sexual attraction. It’s difficult to lure a woman someplace quiet and divest her of her jewels without them.”

“At the risk of being sexist, I’ll suggest your radar works better on women than men, Karl. I’ve had enough attention since I got to Miami that my self-confidence is flying pretty high, and I’m telling you, Guy’s not interested in me.”

He muttered something under his breath, but didn’t answer, just circled the block, then returned to check beneath the balcony.

“Too bad Guy interrupted,” I said as we snuck around the rear of the building. “Otherwise, I could have just walked you down here before you changed back.”

His look said he wasn’t dignifying that with a retort.

“I always wanted a dog,” I said, nearly running to keep up with his long strides. “My brothers were both allergic. Have I told you that?”

“Once or twice.”

“Maybe, someday, you could humor me and—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

I grinned and jogged ahead, found the right balcony, then waved him over. “Up in the apartment, you didn’t find any blood, did you?”

He shook his head and crouched.

“And scent trails? You could make out Jaz and Sonny, right? Oh, and now you know what Guy smells like—”

“Cologne. Which—” he glanced up at me, “—most men don’t wear to go hunting for lost friends.”

“Well, he didn’t wear it for me, considering he didn’t know I was at the apartment. Maybe he
was
hoping for company—heading out for some club-hopping to clear his head. But you could still smell his scent, couldn’t you?”

“Vaguely.”

“Well, then you have your four baseline scents including mine. Was there anyone else—”

He pressed a finger to my lips. “No, there wasn’t. Now, may I finish what I’m trying to do here? Before someone hears us?”

“Sorry, I’m just—”

“Anxious. I know.” As he ducked, I thought he brushed his lips across the top of my head. “Just a few minutes, and I’ll have your answers.”

He sniffed the ground without asking me to turn away. Then he tossed me the keys. “You go back to the car. I’ll finish up here.”

A few minutes later, he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Nothing.”

“No sign of Jaz or Sonny?”

“Almost no sign of anyone. There’s little reason for anyone to walk that way
unless
they were planning a break-in—there are no ground-level patios and it isn’t a shortcut to anywhere. The only trails I found were faint.”

“Meaning old.”

He nodded.

“And upstairs? Only the four of us?”

“That’s harder to tell. Obviously far more traffic and it’s hard for me to distinguish a day-old scent from an hour-old one. But I’m reasonably certain no one else was in that apartment today. And I’m absolutely certain no one climbed up or down that balcony. If the door was cracked open, it’s because one of those boys opened it, and didn’t close it right.”

“Damn it, this doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

HOPE: MATING INSTINCT

W
e returned to my apartment. As we walked into the building, I said, “Thank you, Karl.”

He hesitated, hand on the door.

I touched his arm. “I mean it. Thank you.”

He nodded. As we walked through the lobby, Karl cleared his throat. “I’m sure it might be busy for you tomorrow, but if you can find the time, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“Dinner? Uh, sure.”

“It’s my birthday.”

The admission was so unlike Karl that I was silent until we reached the elevator.

“I’d ask how old you’ll be, but I know I’ll never get it from you.”

“Fifty.”

I thanked God he picked that moment to push the button, leaving no chance to glimpse my reaction. I’d always guessed Karl was in his midforties, and fifty wasn’t much older, but it
seemed
a lot older.

I could say it didn’t matter—werewolves age slowly, so physically, Karl’s no more than midthirties, but all that means is that when I’m walking down the street with him, I won’t be mistaken for his daughter. In terms of life experience, he
is
fifty and that’s what counts.

The elevator arrived and we stepped on.

“Is your birthday tomorrow? Or today?” I asked.

He checked his watch. “Oh, I see. Today, then.”

I stood on my tiptoes and brushed my lips across his. “Happy birthday, Karl.”

Before I could step back, he leaned down. His kiss was almost as brief as mine, but firm. Like his hands on my hips, pressing, but not pulling me to him, making me strain forward, hoping for more. But I only got that one brief kiss. When he pulled away, I found myself arching onto my tiptoes, prolonging the contact until the last possible moment. Then I jolted back onto flat feet.

I thought about what I was doing, the door I was reopening. Was I trying to reopen it? And if I was, did that mean I was closing another? I tried to remember Jaz, but his image wouldn’t form. All I could think about was Karl.

My gaze down, I laid a tentative hand on Karl’s chest. I listened to his breathing, felt the rise and fall of his chest and the warmth of him through his shirt, sensed his gaze on the top of my head, waiting for me to look up. But I couldn’t.

“I hate this, Karl,” I whispered. “Who’d have thought we’d come to this? You and me, snipping and snapping at each other. I hear us doing it, and I can’t believe it. Not us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You?” I managed a laugh, harsh to my ears. “I’ve been just as bad.”

“But you had a reason to be angry.”

I looked up, finally meeting his gaze. “And, maybe, so do you.”

He inhaled. Exhaled. And looked away.

The elevator climbed another floor.

“Hope…”

His voice was so soft I wasn’t sure I heard him, and I looked up. He touched my chin, fingers gliding up my jaw, so light that when I closed my eyes, I couldn’t feel it. When I looked, his eyes were right there, inches from mine. He tilted my chin up—

The elevator dinged. As the doors opened, we both looked over. In unison, our gazes shunted to the button panel.

“That ‘stop’ button looks pretty good,” I said.

He made a noise in his throat that sounded like agreement. “Unfortunately, if it stops for more than a couple of minutes, we’ll be rescued by the building super.”

“Had some experience with that, have you?”

He gave me a look. “On a job.”

“That’s what I meant. Seducing the marks in an elevator. How déclassé.”

A growl and he grabbed for me, but I quickstepped out of his reach and darted through the doors. He swung in front, caught me and slammed me against the door opening. His mouth crushed against mine, knocking the breath from me. The door bounced against my back, but he only pushed me into it, hands going to my rear, fingers digging in as he boosted me up, pushing between my legs until I straddled his hips.

I wrapped my hands in his hair, legs clasped around him, pulling him closer as he pressed into me, fierce and insistent. My brain whirled, a high made all the richer because there wasn’t a chaos vibe to be found. It was all him. The smell of him, the taste of him, the—

The alarm buzzed right behind my head. The elevator, warning us that its door was blocked.

Karl snarled at it, and I laughed, and he turned the sound into a harrumph, with a glare that said I hadn’t heard what I thought I heard. His lips went back to mine, punishingly hard, and my brain reeled, body arching into his, the ache so sharp that he could have taken me there and I wouldn’t have noticed where we were. Noticed or cared.

He pulled back, my lip caught between his teeth. I shuddered and squirmed against him, and he let out a low growl, then swung me around, in two steps pressing me into the opposite wall, next to my apartment door. He thrust me against it, hard enough that he could let go with one hand and tug the keys from my pocket. Once the door was open, he tried to swing me through, but stumbled, and we crashed to the floor.

When I laughed, he gave me another “pretend you didn’t notice that” glower. I closed my eyes, braced for another bruising kiss, but his lips brushed mine, feather light. I shivered. When I opened my eyes, he was right over me, and in his face was everything I’d seen that Valentine’s night and later convinced myself I hadn’t.

I inhaled sharply and the shock hit me, like a whiff of smelling salts. That morning after flashed back. All the pain, the humiliation. My hands shot between us and I tried to scramble back, but his grip tightened. He leaned down to my ear.

“I won’t hurt you again, Hope.”

He kept his lips at my ear, his breathing shallow, caressing my jaw as he pushed back a lock of hair.

“Never again,” he whispered. “I promise.”

My heart skittered. This was what I wanted to hear. What I’d dreamed of hearing. That it had all been a big misunderstanding.

But it hadn’t been. He’d said so himself. There was no other way to interpret what he’d said.

His lips moved to my neck, gliding along my pulse, registering my reaction. He moved to my throat, light kisses that sent my pulse racing, but I stayed stiff in his arms.

He rose, face coming to mine. “I didn’t walk away from you that morning, Hope. I ran. Turned tail and ran.

My
problem. But it won’t happen again.” His hand moved to the side of my face, fingers brushing my cheek. “I came back, and I’m staying.”

His mouth came down to mine. The kiss started slow, almost tentative, as if testing his welcome. When my hands went to the back of his head, it was like a watershed breaking. He grabbed me, and rolled us over, moving on top of me, his weight crushing in the most delicious way.

When I gasped, he thrust against me, all smoothness gone as he fumbled with the front of my jeans. He cursed, as if undoing a simple button was beyond him, as lust-clumsy as any teenage boy, and I was thrown back to that night in the pool, that first kiss igniting, Karl pulling back, struggling to be suave, to be gentle, to be a perfect lover, only to be swept up again and finally giving up, slamming me against the side of the pool. Brutally passionate and unforgettable.

And how many nights since then had I spent trying to forget it?

How many nights would I spend trying to forget this one?

When I broke the kiss, he hung there for a moment, panting. Then he looked down at me and blinked, and I knew he saw the truth, that I didn’t trust him. His lips curved in an oath.

He cupped my face, lowering his until he was so close I could see only his eyes. “It won’t happen again, Hope. It was
my
problem.”

“And that problem was…?”

“Later. I’ll explain it all later.” He brushed his lips against mine. “I need you. Now. Please.”

I shivered, eyelids fluttering. God, how many times had I dreamed of hearing that? I could look into his eyes, and see it. He wanted me. Desperately. And I had to talk about it first? Was I crazy?

I squeezed my eyes shut. If I said yes, I’d never get that explanation. Right now, he might honestly intend to give it, but come morning, he’d brush me off with a, “Don’t worry, it wasn’t about you.” That would be that.

Every morning after, if I went to sleep beside him, I’d worry he wouldn’t be there when I woke, because I didn’t know what drove him away the first time.

I opened my eyes. “I need to know now.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Not now?”

A tightness in his voice turned the words into a query—or maybe a plea—and I sputtered a laugh.

He growled. “You have no respect for a mood, do you?”

I eyed him. Considered my options. Realized there was only one way I was getting my answers, as much as I hated to use it.

I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down in a kiss. His hands went to my shirt, and he had it out of my jeans and over my head so quickly, I barely realized we’d broken the kiss. A snap of the front clasp on my bra, then his thumbs tickled over my breasts as he pushed it aside.