The Order Boxed Set (73 page)

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Maybe one day, I’ll tell you.”

“Hmmm? Evasive or what. So Roz works for Christian Roth?”

“Not really. She’s in a relationship with a business colleague of his, and she’s friends with Tara, Christian’s wife.”

She frowned at him. “You’re being very free with information.”

“You haven’t asked me anything I don’t want to answer yet.”

“Except your age. So what does she do—what is she exactly?”

“She’s a witch.”

Faith scowled. She should have known he wouldn’t tell her anything useful. “Thanks for nothing.”

“You don’t believe me?” He studied her, head cocked on one side. “Why are you so certain she’s not a witch?”

He was the second person to question her convictions that day. It was starting to piss her off. She was the normal one. She wasn’t chasing after make-believe monsters. “I just am that’s all.” Perhaps she should suspend disbelief and see how far he would go. “So what is a witch? What does she do exactly?”

“Roz? She finds things.”

“What sort of things?”

He raised a brow.

Was she being slow? She thought about it and it came to her. “She finds people.”

“Sometimes.”

Shit, she’d found Jessica Thomas. Faith thought back to the other times she’d seen Roz at Scotland Yard talking to Ryan. She’d once asked him who Roz was and he’d told her that she didn’t want to know and she wouldn’t believe him anyway. And he was right. If he’d told her he was consulting some sort of clairvoyant “witch,” she would have laughed in his face. But the fact was, they’d found Jessica after Roz had become involved. Prior to that, they’d had no clue. Roz had come to visit Ryan in the morning and by lunchtime they had a photo-fit of the perp. Ryan had told her it was an anonymous tip. But it had actually come from Rosamund Fairfax.

For a second, she seriously tried to consider the witch aspect, but her brain refused to cooperate.

Instead, she sipped her wine as she tried to put the pieces together in her mind. Maybe there was no “magic” involved. Maybe there was a much simpler explanation—that she’d known who had taken Jessica because that person was somehow associated with Christian Roth. And Roz knew Roth…

But that didn’t explain the earlier cases she’d been involved with.

Faith rubbed her forehead, then pressed her fingers to the back of her neck. Her headache was returning with a vengeance.

“Are you okay?” Ash asked.

“Yeah, but all this supernatural crap is doing my head in.” She studied him over her glass. The room was falling into darkness casting shadows across the hard angles of his face. He was beautiful, all sharp cheekbones and the long lines. “Well at least I know you’re not a vampire.”

His full lips curved into a smile. “I’m not?”

She nodded to the window, where evening was just falling. “I’ve seen you in daylight.”

His smile broadened, showing gleaming white teeth, not a fang in sight. “Of course you have. And of course I’m not a vampire.”

“Good.”

He leaned across and filled her glass and they drank in companionable silence for a while. Considering he was such a scary badass, he was relaxing to be around. Some of the tension of the day drained from her and she sighed. After placing her glass on the table, she stretched, trying to ease the kinks from her shoulders.

Without speaking, Ash rose to his feet and moved around behind her. He pulled the grip from her hair and ran his fingers through the long strands. His hands moved to her shoulders and he kneaded lightly. Heat burned through the thin cotton of her shirt from his fingers, but it felt so good. It had been a long time since another human had touched her like this.

There was no point in telling herself there was nothing sexual in the contact, because she’d be lying. He might not mean it to be sexual, but little shivers ran across her skin, concentrating at her breasts and between her thighs.

His hands splayed, his thumbs digging out the tense little knots between her shoulder blades while his fingers continued to smooth the skin on her shoulders. Her breathing slowed, and warmth suffused her, spreading from his touch to settle low in her body. She bent her head giving him better access.

“Is that good?” he murmured.

“Oh yeah.”

He must have taken her words for license to go further, because his hands shifted and his fingers slid beneath her shirt to caress her bare skin beneath. He played with the strap of her bra and a jolt ran from her breast to her belly, every nerve ending coming alive. When she glanced down, her nipples were tight, little points pressing against the cotton.

His hand slid around to cup one breast over her bra and her head fell back against the cushions, the tension seeping from her muscles, leaving her limp and pliant beneath his touch. She had no thought of denying him; this felt too good. Just a while longer. His palm grazed over her nipple and brought it singing to life. She longed to feel his hand against her bare breast and a small groan escaped her.

He lowered his head and his hot breath feathered against her throat sending her heart rate speeding and her blood throbbing through her veins. As his lips brushed against her skin, she tilted her head to the side, giving him better access, and his teeth nibbled at her flesh.

Maybe he was a vampire after all, but at that moment, his hand slipped beneath her bra and he squeezed her nipple between his finger and thumb and all rational thought fled. She groaned when he withdrew, but then he clasped her upper arms and turned her so she knelt on the sofa, facing him.

His eyes had gone even darker, and were half-closed, framed by the thickest, blackest lashes she’d ever seen on a man. As he leaned in closer, she realized his eyes weren’t black but the dark sapphire blue of the midnight sky. And his hair wasn’t black either, but deep brown and glinting with rubies.

One hand moved to slide beneath her hair to cup the back of her neck and draw her closer.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered against her lips.

“You do?”

“Do you know how long it is since I kissed a woman, even wanted to kiss a women?”

“No.” And she wished he’d stop talking about it and do it. She raised her hands to his shoulders and pulled him the last inch. He laughed softly but then his mouth was on hers and she wasn’t thinking anymore.

Like his hands, his lips were hot. They slanted over hers, and she opened for him, heat flashing through her. There was nothing tentative about the kiss, his tongue pushed inside like hot, wet velvet. He filled her, forcing everything from her mind but the feel and taste of him. Sharp and sweet with a hint of spice. His kiss wrapped around her, sucked her under, until she could feel it with her whole body. In her breasts pressed against his hard chest, in the warm coil of flame in her belly, the moist heat between her thighs.

The back of the sofa was between them, and she wanted nothing to separate them, not the sofa, not clothes, nothing. Without releasing his hold, he shifted and came around the side, crawled over so he was kneeling in front of her. He pushed her backward with his body, and she sprawled onto her back as he came down over her, his mouth still fused with hers.

This was better, much better. The long superhard length of him pressed against her, his erection like steel pushing at her belly. She was going to go up in flames any moment. She was burning from the inside.

The pain came out of nowhere. One second she was drowning in the dark sensual promise of his kisses, the next, a red-hot poker was drilling into her skull. Every muscle in her body clenched.

Ash went instantly still against her, then slowly backed away.

“Are you okay?”

She heard the words through a fog of pain and for a moment, she couldn’t answer.

“Faith?”

He sounded really worried now. She forced her eyes open. At least her vision wasn’t blurred; she could make out Ash’s almost scared expression.

“I’m okay,” she ground out. It was a lie, but the pain was receding to a manageable level. “Just a migraine,” she said when he continued to stare down at her.

His eyes narrowed. “You have a headache?”

Chapter Seven

“A real headache—honest,” Faith said with a weak smile. “I have some painkillers in my bag. Would you get them for me?”

Ash stared down at her and tried to slow his heart rate. She’d scared him. And even now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something seriously wrong. Her face was so pale, and he could tell from the way she held herself that she was hurting.

“Pills,” she reminded him.

“Shit, sorry.” Casting her one last worried glance, he scrambled to his feet and headed into the kitchen where she’d left her bag. He grabbed it, then got a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the tap.

She was lying exactly where he’d left her, her eyes closed, her figure tense. After putting the glass on the table, he crouched down beside her. He opened the bag and found the bottle of pills, read the instructions, and shook two out onto his palm.

“Faith?”

When he got no answer, he touched her lightly on the shoulder. Her lids flew open and she gave a little jump.

“Here.” As he held out the pills, she parted her lips. The lips he’d been kissing only minutes earlier. He placed the medicine on her tongue and reached behind him for the water, cupping the back of her neck while she drank to hold her steady. Her eyes closed and he laid her back and straightened.

But she didn’t appear comfortable. He crossed the room into the hall and found her bedroom. After grabbing a pillow and the bedspread, he hurried back. She hadn’t moved, and he gently lifted her head, placed the pillow beneath, and covered her with the spread.

As he sank down into the chair opposite, he was shaking.

She’d scared him. Some big, bad demon, he was. It had been so long since he’d kissed a woman that his immediate thought had been he was doing something wrong. Or that he’d sprouted horns, or something equally demonic. Jesus. At least his dick had stopped throbbing. His erection hadn’t survived the shock.

It had been going so well. At least it had seemed to be. She’d been responding. She’d wanted him, he was sure, and he’d been all ready to let her have him. For such a prickly woman she’d gone all soft and pliant in his arms, and she’d tasted so sweet. He’d been planning to taste her all over. At the thought, his dick gave a little twitch.

Thank God.

He picked up his half-empty glass of wine and gulped it down in one go, then poured the rest of the bottle into his glass and studied her.

As though she could sense his scrutiny, she blinked open her eyes. “If I forget to tell you,” she murmured, “you’re a great kisser.”

“Thanks.”

Her brows drew together. “Which is sort of weird, because you’re really not my type.”

Her words were slightly slurred—he presumed the drugs must be taking effect.

“You have a type?”

“I do. Men in suits and ties. Nice men, with short hair…” She thought for a moment. “And definitely no tattoos.”

Ash rubbed Lucifer’s sigil wound tight around his upper arm. “Well, the tat I can’t doing anything about, but it so happens that tomorrow I’m due a makeover.”

This was his and Ryan’s I-will-if-you-will makeovers, ready for the first of their meetings tomorrow afternoon.

“You are? That will be nice.”

She closed her eyes and eventually, her ragged, little breaths evened out until she was breathing smoothly and he was sure she was sleeping. He rose slowly, leaned down, picked up her bag, and headed into the kitchen, closing the door softly behind him.

Humans were so fragile, but was this normal? Was she ill?

He pulled his cell from his pocket and punched in Ryan’s number.

Ryan answered after the first ring.

“Is Faith all right?” Ash asked without bothering with a greeting.

“Ash?”

“Yeah. Is Faith ill?”

“Where is she?”

“At her place and she had this headache.”

Ryan snorted. “Are you sure it wasn’t made up to get rid of you?”

“No, and she didn’t—get rid of me I mean—I’m still here. I gave her some pain killers she had and she’s sleeping.”

Ryan was silent for a moment. “My last night on the force, she had some sort of blackout. I didn’t think it was serious. She went to the hospital, but they said it was just for observation. Maybe it’s something to do with that.”

“Thanks.”

“You sound a little shaky.”

“It was a shock.”

“It can’t be anything serious or she wouldn’t be back at work. They’d make her get the all clear. Unless…”

“Unless…”

“Unless she didn’t report it. It was my last night and it didn’t occur to me.”

“Maybe I’ll ask her when she wakes.”

“Good luck with that.”

Ash ended the call and turned his attention to the contents of Faith’s bag. He examined the pill bottle first and took a note of the drugs. They were prescription—that was more serious, wasn’t it?

Humans were so fragile. The idea had never bothered him before, but strangely, he found himself wanting to protect her, keep her safe. A definite first for him.

He found the ID badge. Detective Connolly. MI13. Military Intelligence. He’d been reading up on them prior to his meeting with Ryan. But he’d never come across an MI13 before. They could look into it tomorrow.

There was nothing else of any interest. A purse with a couple of credit cards and her driver’s license. A comb but no makeup, not even lipstick, and he realized she wasn’t wearing any. Hadn’t been on either occasion he’d met her.

He had a quick nose around the house. As she’d said, it was functional at best with very few personal effects on display and spotlessly clean. Finally, he returned to the living room, sat back down, and watched her. Somewhere before dawn, he fell into a light doze.

…

“Thank you.”

Ash blinked open his eyes at her softly spoken words. Faith was sitting up opposite, the cover still wrapped around her, but at least her face had some color again.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Headache all gone. Thanks for looking after me, but you didn’t have to stay.”

“I couldn’t leave you alone.”

“Of course you could. I’m a big girl, and you owe me nothing.”

“What about family? Is there anyone I can call who can come and stay with you?”

Annoyance flashed across her face. “I told you—I’m fine.”

“Ryan said you’d been ill.”

“Ryan had no fucking right. And you had no right to call him and talk about me.”

“I was worried.”

She ran hand across her face and he watched as she brought herself under control. “Sorry. It’s a touchy subject. I blacked out one night. But they’ve done a whole load of tests and there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Except the headaches.”

“Yes, and they will go in time.”

“Good.”

She pushed the blankets away. “Well, I’m going to shower and head into work.”

“I’ll wait and give you a lift.”

There was that flash of annoyance again. Why did he get the impression that she wanted him gone? That she hated that he’d seen her vulnerable?

“You don’t have to. I have a few chores I want to do on the way in.”

He thought about pushing it but decided he would likely put her back up.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll leave now as long as you agree to meet me for lunch, so I can see for myself that you’re fine.”

Her eyes narrowed as she chewed on her lower lip. Finally, she gave a curt nod. “One o’clock where you picked me up last night.”

“Okay.”

She got up. He followed her out into the hall and watched as she disappeared into the bathroom, wincing as she slammed the door. The headache was definitely gone.

…

Faith couldn’t believe he had stayed with her all night. She hadn’t put him down as the caring type. Maybe because of all the leather and tattoos. But she could remember him looking after her. He’d been kind.

And he must have been disappointed. He’d taken her home, obviously expecting a torrid sex session and instead, he got to play nurse.

On the train into work, she’d thought about calling him to cancel lunch. But she didn’t have his number, so she would have to call Ryan. Then she’d have to put up with him asking about the blackout and no doubt asking why she wanted Ash’s number. Though if Ash had called him last night, he was probably already aware that his new partner was at his old partner’s house.

And why the hell would he care anyway? There had never been anything like that between her and Ryan, and if he was partnered with Ash, he must think he was okay.

In the end, she hadn’t bothered. If she decided she didn’t want to see him, she’d stay in the office. He was hardly likely to be able to get to her through the four layers of security he’d need to clear to reach her desk.

As she made her way to her desk, she nodded to a few people she recognized. Her workstation was in a large room with four others, the spaces divided into cubicles. Yesterday, only two of them had been occupied. Hers and the one farthest away. She’d winced when he’d looked up and she’d seen the dog collar. This place appeared to be staffed by priests and ex-soldiers. It was going to be so much fun working here.

She’d bought a coffee from the bar next door, which hadn’t gone down too well with security. They’d confiscated it as though it might be poisoned or contain a bomb or a hidden camera. She bought one from the coffee machine that was past all the security. She hoped it was better than the stuff at Scotland Yard. As she put her bag in her drawer, she realized she’d forgotten her gun; she wasn’t used to carrying, and it was still in the kitchen where she’d taken it off last night.

She switched on her monitor. This morning, she planned to go over the files on Rosamund Fairfax. The witch.

Rosamund Fairfax had turned up in London fifteen years previously, but there was no connection between her and CR International until about a month ago.
After
the murder of Julie Foster and the abduction of Jessica.

Bummer.

Faith had been so sure that must be how she’d known about Jessica’s whereabouts. “Shit.”

“Are you talking to me?” an amused voice said. She glanced up and found the colonel standing behind her. Again.

“No, just the world in general. So any sign of that clearance yet? I could really do with access to that evidence you keep talking about.”

“Not yet. The boss is away on business right now, but we’ll get to it as soon as he’s back. So have you contacted your old partner?”

She was in a bind, because she didn’t want to lie to her new boss, but she didn’t want to involve Ryan any more than she had to.

“No. I’ve tried and it seems he’s avoiding me. I went over there, but he was apparently ‘out.’ I spoke to his new partner, and I think he might be a better way in.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, he asked me out—I’m thinking about it.”

“What was his name?”

“Ashton Delacourt.”

“Move over.”

Faith slid her chair out of the way to give the colonel more room and he typed in the name. “Nothing.”

He pressed something else and finally his thumb to the keypad. No doubt getting access to those “interesting” files. “Still nothing,” he muttered. “We have no file on the man.” He cleared his access and stepped back. “Never mind, I suggest you accept Mr. Delacourt and I’ll get our researchers working on him.”

She felt a pang of guilt as though she was handing Ash over to the bad guys. Which was plain stupid. If he hadn’t done anything wrong, they wouldn’t find anything. If he had, then he deserved whatever he got.

Ryan had always said she was too black and white, that people weren’t bad or good but all sorts of levels in between. But she’d never believed that. You had choices in life, and what you made of those choices defined who you were. At some point in most people’s lives, they had to decide. Good or bad.

“So you visited CR International. Did you meet anyone else?”

“Rosamund Fairfax came in while I was there and another woman—Tara Roth.”

He raised a brow, a sign she was beginning to think meant he was surprised or even impressed. “Christian Roth’s new wife. And what did you make of her?”

“Didn’t have time to make anything. We met only briefly.”

He pursed his lips. “Well, if you can find some way to get closer to her—do it.”

“Yes, boss.”

After the colonel had disappeared into his office, she spent a while longer reading the files and finding very little of interest.

The only good thing about the morning was Faith’s headache had gone as though it had never been there. Actually, she felt great and grateful there had been no other symptoms.

It was nearly time to make the decision whether to meet Ash or not. But she knew she was going; she had to get out of here for a while or go crazy.

She stopped at the final checkpoint. “Did you enjoy my coffee?” she asked the guard. Ex-army she reckoned though he was dressed in a private-security-firm uniform.

“Yes, but next time I prefer two sugars.”

“Ha-ha.” She made to walk out, but paused. “Have you worked here long?”

A wary expression crossed his face. Probably cross-referencing her question against his list of things he wasn’t allowed to talk about. She’d been given one herself, and it had been long. “Two years.”

“And have you met the boss?”

“The colonel? Every day.” He sounded puzzled.

“No, I meant the colonel’s boss.”

“He has one?”

Obviously not then. She smiled and headed out of the building.

Stepping out into the open was like being reborn. For a minute, she stood, inhaling deeply. The air was hardly fresh. Late August in the center of London and it smelled of hot car fumes and too many people. But she loved it anyway.

As usual, she’d dressed in one of the black pants suits she always wore for work, but added her favorite top, a stretch red shirt that hugged her slight curves and made her skin appear white.