Stake and Dust (Stake and Dust series, Book I) (15 page)

She turned away with a tired sigh and pulled
back the shower curtain and stepped in, letting the warmth of the
water sooth her sore limbs. She had nothing to complain about when
she still lived and breathed due to Tremayne's bravery. He didn't
have to dive in after her when the Lamia dragged her into the
water, but he had without a thought for his own safety. He'd been a
damn good partner despite her first reservations.

Buzzzzz…Buzzzz…

The annoying sound of her cell phone reached
her ears. She willed it to stop, but no such luck. She pulled back
the shower curtain and glanced at the number on the screen. What
were the chances it was simply a wrong number? "Should have set up
the voicemail," she grumbled and reached for a hand-towel to dry
her hand before she slid a finger over the accept button. She put
the caller on speaker.

"Hello?" she said and waited.

"Miss Hayes?" She recognized the voice as the
detective's she'd spoken to at the marina.

"Yes." She'd given him her number but hadn't
really expected him to need to call her.

"I just wanted to verify something with
you."

"Sure." She reached for one of the larger
towels on the shelf to dry off. "Shoot." She dressed as she
talked.

"You stated Lorelei Rivers used an explosive
at the hotel, but was still able to escape your capture by taking
the fire escape stairs."

"That's right," she said slowly. Sure she'd
made up the story, but there was no reason to question it.

"Miss Hayes, there were no fire escape
stairs."

"They must have fallen after she used them,"
she said.

"You misunderstand," the detective said.
"There aren't any stairs because there never were any."

She'd slipped a sweatshirt over her head and
stared at the phone. What did he mean there never were any stairs?
There had to be. Tremayne used them to come through the window when
they attempted to capture Lorelei in her hotel room.

"Miss Hayes?"

"I guess I'd assumed there were stairs. How
else could she manage to get down three stories?" She chuckled.
"She couldn't have jumped without seriously hurting herself. Could
she have used a rope?" She threw the question back to him and hoped
he bought the lie.

"Perhaps," he said after a moment. There was
a long pause again.

"Is there anything else, detective?"

"No, sorry to disturb you. If I have any
other questions, I'll give you a call."

"Sure." The detective had ended the call but
she just stood there with her hair dripping down her back. "There
were no stairs," she murmured. No stairs meant Tremayne had to
scale the side of the building or… "He leapt," she voiced out loud.
Leapt three stories high like an Otherworldly creature. "No." She
shook her head, but she'd had her doubts in the beginning.

He only met her in the evenings.

"Because he worked…undercover at the pub,"
she murmured and remembered when he met her before the sun had
fully set. "He wore a hoodie."

At the apartment tonight, Tremayne had pulled
her back to safety before she'd made a fatal mistake in pursuing
Lorelei. Not because the flooring was falling away… "Because he
knew there hadn't been any stairs," she said and pursed her
lips.

She shivered but not from being cold, but
from what she suspected. "What creature are you, Mr. Green?" Was
that even his true name? He wanted to be called Tremayne. Then
another thought crossed her mind. What if Tremayne had taken on Mr.
Green's identity? And if so what happened to the real Mr.
Green?

All good questions and she had every
intention of finding out the answers.

She reached for the hair dryer attached to
the wall. She blasted her wet strands, but all the while her mind
kept coming up with scenarios about Tremayne and she didn't like
any of them.

Sleep no longer an option, she chose to dress
in a clean pair of jeans and a sweater. She grabbed her cell phone
as it rang. It was her brother Derek. "What's up? I'm just on my
way out."

"We had a hunters' meeting last night at the
lodge. I have some interesting info on Gerard Green."

This halted her steps. "Yeah?"

"His sister has been trying to reach him.
Says he hasn't called in a while, nor has he answered her texts.
Has he been too busy to pick up the phone?" He let the question
hang there with meaning.

She debated on revealing her suspicions. If
she did, she knew Derek or one of her other brothers would be on
the next flight out. "I'm sure I don't know what you're hinting at.
We've been working a case. I'll let Trem…Gerard know about his
sister's concern."

Derek chuckled. "You do that. I guess I was
wrong about him. If he has family that's worried about him, he
can't be all that bad. By the way, how goes the case?"

"The Lamia is sea foam. The vamp will soon be
with the GOJ. It's all good. Just a few more loose ends to take
care of, that's all."

Derek sighed. "I usually like to take care of
the vamps quick and clean. GOJ might want to rehabilitate the
vamp."

She grabbed her jean jacket draped over the
chair and slipped it on. "I doubt it. The vamp was a serial
killer."

"They're all killers," Derek said.

"Maybe, but this one took it to the next
level and kept trophies of his kills. I'm pretty sure he didn't
pick his victims to feed upon. He enjoyed killing them."

"Sick bastard. Stake and dust is too good for
him."

"I'd say." She picked up her keys on the
table.

"When are you heading home," Derek asked. "Or
should I ask?" She heard the humor behind his words. He believed
she had a thing going with Tremayne, and she didn't correct
him.

"I won't be much longer. Just want to enjoy
the Hamptons. It's not everyday I have the opportunity to
vacation."

"Don't I know it? I'll see you at Christmas,
right?"

That was in a few weeks. "Sure." She should
be able to wrap up things by then – no matter what that may
entail.

Chapter Twenty

A knock at the pub's front door made Tremayne
frown. The place had been closed for over an hour, long after he
ushered the last patrons out the door. Only a sparse crew remained
to clean up and ready the pub to reopen at eleven today for the
lunch crowd. "We're closed," he shouted.

"Tremayne, it's Cassandra." Her voice was
warm and seductive or maybe that was simply wishful thinking on his
part. Georgina then Morris poked their head in from the back room
to peer at him with curiosity. "Don't you have dishes to put away,"
he grumbled.

Morris laughed. "Sure thing, Boss."

Georgina suppressed a giggle behind her hand
before disappearing into the kitchen once more.

He strode over to the door and opened it. Her
green eyes met his. She'd showered and changed, and even though her
cheek appeared bruised from her fight earlier, it didn't take away
from her stark beauty.

"Are you going to invite me in?" she asked
and her lips curved.

For a moment he wondered at her choice of
words, but then he stepped aside and she strode in and waited for
him to close the door and lock it once more.

"I thought you'd be in bed," he said and
questioned why he'd chosen those words, especially since she turned
and stared at him with a quizzical gaze. "You had a tough evening,"
he added and cleared his throat. "Thought you were tired." She said
she'd be by later today after she slept a few hours or more. She
couldn't have managed any shuteye if she was standing here in his
pub with her hair slightly damp from a recent shower. So why
exactly was she here?

"I could say the same for you," she said,
"That you should be tired and in bed, but here you are…" She let
the sentence hang between them.

The clanking of dishes from the kitchen had
Cassandra going for one of her concealed weapons.

"Whoa." He lifted his hands. "It's only my
employees. I run a business here. Remember? We're cleaning up."

She lowered her hand. "Sorry. Still a little
jumpy."

"I can see that. Are you interested in a
drink?" He pointed with a jab of his thumb toward the bar.

"Sure. Lead the way."

He headed toward the bar and she followed, no
doubt still fingering her weapon. He had the distinct feeling of
being stalked, and it wasn't often that he was the prey. Kind of
turned him on. Yep, no one ever told him he was smart when it came
to choosing his women, and he didn't see the point in changing
now.

"I enjoy a good ale," she said casually, but
there was nothing casual about this hunter. He could hear her heart
beating loud and clear, a bit faster than normal. She was on edge
and he didn't believe for a moment it had anything to do with what
went down earlier. Something was wrong.

He reached for a bottle and poured the ale
into a glass before sliding it toward her. She took her seat at the
bar.

He then poured himself a glass.

"To a job well done," she toasted and lifted
her glass to clink with his before indulging.

"Are you heading back home today?" he asked
as he took a sip of his drink.

"Thought I'd hang around until the end of the
week," she said. "Make sure the GOJ finds Gunthorn, and take in the
sights."

He lifted a brow. "Oh?"

"I'm in no rush to go home." She leaned her
elbow on the counter and rested her chin on her palm. "So what do
you do for fun, Tremayne Greer?" Cassandra asked. "Do you still
want me to call you Tremayne or should we go back to your real
name…
Gerard Green
?" She drew out the name.

Again, he had a distinct inkling something
wasn't quite right. Did she suspect he wasn't Gerard Green? What
had changed since taking down the Lamia and her going back to the
hotel to wash up? "I'm still undercover as long as I reside here,"
he told her. He in no way wanted to be called by the dead hunter's
name.

"Are you here permanently then?" she asked
and took another sip of her drink.

"Until they say otherwise, I suppose. You
know… someone's has to keep the preternatural world in check in the
Hamptons, aye?"

"Right. You've put down roots here, made
friends… Do you have a…"

"…girlfriend," he finished for her, believing
this is where her line of questioning was heading.

"I was going to say: Do you have any family?
Pets? But by all means, do tell. Do you have a girlfriend?" She
batted her long lashes, making him chuckle.

"Family…it's a long story. I have a dog
though."

"You do?" Her voice hitched and her eyebrows
furrowed as if she couldn't believe he told the truth.

"Well, don't act so surprised."

She sat back on the stool. "So tell me about
this mutt."

"Shakespeare is his name. I rescued him from
the pound a few years ago." He went on to tell her about his
faithful hound and he found himself relaxing. She wanted to know
more about him. Perhaps this was what he had sensed different about
her. She was flirting with him, and he found himself flirting right
back.

"So…? Do you?" she asked.

He frowned, not sure where her train of
thought had landed now.

"You never did say if you had a girlfriend or
not."

He leaned on the counter. "That would be no."
This won him a radiant smile that shot straight to his heart.

"Well then, as I recall, you promised me a
date after we took care of business."

"I did." He'd wondered if she'd call him on
it. Hope she wouldn't and at the same time prayed she did.

"Do you know how to show a girl a good time
or what?"

He cleared his throat. "That Miss Hayes is a
loaded question. Are you sure you want me to answer it?"

"Only if you're up to it," she added with a
sweet twitch of her lips, but he was in no way fooled.

Yep, he'd been right after all. He was being
hunted, but in a more seductive way. As much as he'd like to be
Cassandra Hayes' prey, he really should back down. The case was
over. She needed to go back to her hunter family, and he had to
stop pretending to belong to her world.

He opened his mouth to say…something…but she
had stood and leaned forward, gripping his T-shirt as she drew him
near. All coherent words fled his mind as the temptress planted her
lips on his.

What could he do? He kissed her back. She
tasted of ale and sweet temptation all rolled into one. When she
came up for air those lushes lips curved ever so slightly.

Her index finger slid over his lips as she
said, "I want to see him."

His eyes riveted to hers. "Huh? What?"

"Your doggy won't eat me, will he?" she
teased.

He laughed as he realized she wanted to see
his dog. Not exactly the words he hoped for.

"Shakespeare won't bite, but I might. Are you
willing to take the chance?" he teased.

She shrugged her shoulders as she sat back
down on the stool. "I'm willing. Besides I bite back."

Man the woman drove him to distraction.

He took a well-needed step away from her just
so he could focus on the dangerous game they were playing.

His gaze slid over her with lust, but she
didn't shy away as he met her eyes. "Sure," he said. "Why not?
Shakespeare loves the ladies." He grabbed his keys sitting by the
cash register then remembered the sun was probably rearing its
glorious head by now, and ready to fry him the moment he stepped
outside. This was why he'd come back to the pub instead of going
home. It had been closer than trying to make a run to his house. He
planned on waiting out the day in the pub where the light didn't
reach.

"Is something wrong?" she asked innocently.
He had a hunch it was an act, some ploy to see if he'd head outside
with her. Just what did she suspect? He'd been foolish to believe
she wanted him as in
wanted to take him to bed
. Oh, she was
attracted to him. He'd seen her looks, the way her eyes dilated
when he kissed her, but right now, she was testing him.