Текст книги "Heat of the Night"

Автор книги: Sylvia Day

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They had a dozen men with them total. Of the eight who stayed close, four branched off at Connor's gestured command and began weaving through the parked cars.

"You know," Stacey began. "I just can't see Rachel stopping for the night in a place like this. Not when there are tons of other lodgings here in town and Mojave is so close."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. "I agree. They probably ditched the car, but even that's odd. Talk about sticking out like a sore thumb. Look at it. You can't miss it."

The cloud-filtered moonlight glimmered off the black paint, which made finding the sedan easy, despite its location in an unlit corner of the lot. They approached it slowly, cautiously. Connor took the lead; she followed a few steps behind with the others.

He paused several feet away and gestured to the nearby thick cement base that supported one of the lamps. "Wait over there and help look out."

"What am I looking out for?" she asked.

"Anyone coming by." His gaze was hard and fierce as he looked at one of the men in a nonverbal communication that was beyond her. "I need a closer look at that car and I don't want to be disturbed. Check your sides often and listen for any suspicious noises."

She was pretty sure he was just trying to get her out of his hair, but she'd promised to listen and she would.

Without another word, Stacey did as he asked, following the guy assigned to her to the requested position. Her gaze roamed the lot in a steady back-and-forth sweep. The lamp she stood under was dead center at the end, which afforded her an open view of the property. It also offered a hideous smell. It was her guess that more than a few animals-and perhaps even humans-had used the distant location as a urinal.

Her stomach roiled with a mixture of disgust and fear. Connor and the others worked almost silently, doing whatever the hell it was that they were doing to the car. The guy next to her said nothing and bore no expression at all on his face or in his eyes.

The temperature was chilly, but Stacey suspected it was her own fear that made her shiver so violently. The neon vacancy sign blinked off and on, coaxing her to stare briefly at the glass door to the front desk. That was as dirty as the rest of the place. Spattered with something foul and so grimy it obviously hadn't been washed in years.

Connor returned to her with such stealth Stacey wouldn't have been aware of him if she hadn't been keeping vigil. She raised her brows in query.

"Let's go to the office," he said with alarming alacrity, snatching her elbow and dragging her away.

"Why?"

"Because I said."

There was something underlying his tone that made her look back over her shoulder. Two of the men remained with the vehicle in defensive positions. She couldn't see what they'd done to the sedan, if anything.

Then a flash of glimmered moonlight caught her eye. She slowed.

Something was dripping from the trunk onto the asphalt, forming an ever-growing puddle. From the rate of seepage, the substance was thicker than water…

"Oh my god!" She stumbled and Connor kept her upright, his pace unchanged. "What's in the trunk?"

"Our friend with the teeth."

Her heart dropped into her stomach and she swallowed hard. "You thought Justin might be in there, didn't you? That's why you made me move away."

"It was a possibility."

His jaw was locked, his eyes forward, his step purposeful.

"You think he's dead, don't you?" Her voice rose and she fought his grip. "What did you see in there? Tell me!"

Connor halted and yanked her into him. "Keep your voice down, damn it!"

He gestured the other men onward with a quick jerk of his chin. When they were alone, he said, "There's nothing in there but a head and a body, neither of which belong to your son."

"Oh my god… oh my god…"

"This is where that trust I asked for comes into play."

Nodding violently, she pulled away to fight the feeling of claustrophobia.

"Stace." His brogue softened. "We're going to the office now. We need to disable any security cameras this sorry assed place might have and find out which of the rooms are presently occupied. Then we're going door to door until we're sure they're not here."

Stacey bent over, gasping. As cold as she'd been a moment ago, she was sweating now. "You don't think they left?"

"They probably did, but we have to be sure. Come on." He tugged her up and kept going. "You wanted to come; you have to keep it together."

How was she going to keep it together when she felt like vomiting? The people who had her son were the type of individuals who decapitated others and stuffed their bodies in trucks. "I feel sick."

He cursed under his breath and stopped again. "Don't do this to me," he said brusquely. "I've got to keep going. Do you understand that? I promised you I would get Justin back. I promised you that if you gave me a chance, I would deliver. Don't make me fail."

Gasping for air, she nodded, clearing her mind of terrifying images by sheer will alone. He was right. She knew he was right. She'd fuck everything up if she lost it now. "I'm with you."

Connor pulled her upright and tilted her chin skyward, opening her airways to facilitate deep breaths. "You're brave, sweetheart." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm proud of you. Now, let's go."

One foot in front of the other. Stacey knew she could make it in baby steps. At least she thought so until they reached the door to the office and one of the men intercepted them.

"You might want to keep the lady out, sir," he said.

It was then Stacey realized the dirt splattered on the glass was blood. And that was only a miniscule amount of the volume of gore that covered what she could see of the front desk area.

She gagged.

"You can't throw up," Connor growled, clamping a hand over her mouth and dragging her away. His voice came low and rough by her ear. "The authorities are going to investigate this. You can't leave any biological evidence behind. You understand? Nod, if you understand."

Stacey couldn't move. She was frozen in place by the horror of what she'd seen.

"Okay." He picked her up and moved her out to the public curb. "Let's get you back to the car. We'll lock you in. You keep the gun at the ready…"

Struggling, she managed to get him to set her down. "I can do this," she promised. "I can help you."

"You're a wreck," he said. "You're going to get yourself arrested and charged with murder."

"I'll be your lookout." Stacey watched him shake his head. Setting her hand on his chest, she said, "I'll never forgive myself if I don't help you."

"You can help me by calling Aidan back and bringing him up to speed." Connor cupped her face and stared down into her eyes. The emotion in the liquid depths was visible even in the darkness. "You are a precious, cheery light in my life. I want to keep you that way. Let me protect you from this much, at least."

She considered that a moment, but couldn't fight the feeling she was letting him down. Then she glanced over his shoulder at the front desk and her stomach churned violently.

"Yeah, you're right," she admitted. "I can't take it. Take me back to the car. I'll make the phone call."

Connor put his hand at the small of her back and directed her toward the Magnum with strides so long she had to jog to keep up.

"I'm sorry," she said, as he unlocked the door with the remote and assisted her into the passenger seat.

"For what? For doing the right thing? For knowing your limits?" He bent down and looked her in the eye. "I admire you, sweetheart. I'm not disappointed."

Straightening, he said, "I'll be back. Keep the gun ready in your lap. Call Aidan."

He shut the door and reactivated the alarm system with the remote. And then he was gone.

Stacey ignored the hands-free system in favor of direct use of the handset. Aidan answered immediately. "What have you got?"

"Hey it's me."

Aidan's voice softened. "Hey, Stace. What's going on?"

"We found the car. The driver's dead. Decapitated in the trunk. Someone's dead in the office. Or multiple someones. I couldn't go in. There's so much blood. T-tons of it. Ev-verywhere-"

"Shh, it's okay. We'll take care of it. How are you holding up? You doing alright?"

"Yeah." She blew out her breath and glanced toward the lobby.

"Where's Connor?"

"He went to see which rooms are occupied."

The office was located on the corner created by the driveway and the road. Two solid walls of the lobby were glass, providing a view to the interior from the street and also from the motel itself. Various brochure stands and a cloth-draped table with a coffeemaker atop it blocked the lower view to the inside. As she watched, Connor spoke to one of the men, who nodded in reply and then headed toward her.

"Where are you?"

"He locked me in the car."

"Good. Sit tight. There are others on the way. They'll be there shortly."

"C-Connor-" Her voice broke.

"Don't worry about him," Aidan said firmly. "I've fought beside him a long time, Stace. He's the best soldier I know. If it were my child, I wouldn't choose anyone but him to help me. He's just that damn good."

She gave a jerky nod.

"Stace? You okay?"

"Yes. Sorry. I forgot you can't see me." A crazed little laugh escaped her. "I can't believe this afternoon I was baking a pie." And making love with a man who makes me weak in the knees.

"Hang in there. Once we get the motel secured, you can ride the chopper back."

Shaking her head, she said, "No. I have to be there when they find Justin."

Aidan's sigh was audible. "Keep listening to Connor, then."

"Of course."

They disconnected. Stacey was left with a heavy silence and a guard by her door. She realized that her heart was racing madly and her breathing was shallow, both reactions were making her lightheaded.

"Jesus," she muttered, forcing herself to breathe slow and easy. "Get a grip, Stace."

A glimmer of light caught her eye.

Already on edge, her head swiveled to the left where the edge of the road met a slight embankment spotted with trees.

Rachel stood there with a horror of a grin, her once-beautiful face a nightmare of scratches and gouges that would have killed a human. She was missing a chunk of her scalp, the flesh torn so deeply bone was visible.

But that wasn't what caused Stacey to scream.

The full measure of her terror was for her son, who hung limp and unconscious in one of Rachel's arms. The woman's other hand was occupied by a wicked looking sword.

The guard, alerted by her piercing cries, spotted the macabre pair. Yelling into his headset, he charged in their direction. Stacey struggled with the door, feeling frantically for the lock, cursing in frustration until the damn thing gave way and freed her. Stumbling out, she gasped as Connor flew past. She attempted to follow, stepping around the bumper only to gag violently.

The guard's decapitated head rolled to a halt at her feet, his sightless eyes and gaping mouth forever frozen in terror.

Looking up, she saw at least a half dozen of the grinning, ghoulish creatures descending on Connor in a swarm. His blade glinted and flashed with extraordinary speed, his two-fisted swinging dismembering limbs left and right. He fought in a moving circle of steel, spinning and arching in a fatal dance. More camouflaged guards ran up the short rise, creating a scene straight out of a horror flick.

Stacey took in the awesome display in a daze, marveling at the grace and power with which Connor moved. He was so big, yet his agility and speed were impressive. It gave her confidence to see him engaged with such skill and focus. Without him, she was certain she'd be paralyzed with fear. With him, she felt capable of anything.

Taking off at a run, Stacey thrust her right hand into her windbreaker and wrapped it around the grip of the Glock. She yanked it free and took comfort in its weight. She'd never fired a gun in her life, but she was more than ready to shoot the hell out of something now.

Stumbling over a tree root, Stacey fell to her knees in a jarring, painful impact. She lumbered to her feet and pressed onward, but the brief delay was fortuitous. It slowed her down, affording her the time to spot the sole of a shoe beside a tree to her right.

Justin's shoe.

Stacey ran toward it. Picked it up. Looked beyond it. Saw the other.

That one was still attached to her son.

"Justin!" She scrambled over to him, her free hand feeling along his body for injuries. For signs of life. He was so pale, his eyes so bruised looking, the side of his face caked with dried blood spatter. She set the gun down and shook his shoulders. "Justin! Baby, wake up. Wake up, baby, please! Justin!"

She thumped his chest and slapped his cheeks. "Baby. Baby, don't do this to me. You wake up! Justin!"

He coughed and Stacey cried out in relief, her vision blurring with tears, her heart aching as he curled up on his side and groaned. She was so focused on him she failed to see the approaching danger until it was too late. A sharp, deep pain struck her arm, then an icy chill spread through the muscle. She screamed and flailed wildly.

A feral, masculine roar filled the air. There was a brief glimpse of golden hair, then Rachel was yanked upwards and tossed away as if she weighed nothing. The damaged woman rolled away with a gurgling laugh, leaving Stacey to find the massive syringe that hung from where it pierced her biceps.

"I will return for what is inside you," the woman hissed, leaping to safety with preternatural strength when Connor lunged blade first after her.

"You fucking bitch!" Stacey screamed, reaching for the gun and falling to her back.

Connor tackled Rachel and twisted along the ground with her. Stacey struggled for a clean shot, but as the unbearable chill moved up her arm and into her brain, she knew she was going to pass out.

Just as blackness began to narrow her vision, Rachel reared up and provided a perfect target. Aiming between her spread legs, Stacey fired one round after another, emptying the clip into Rachel's brutalized body. The woman jerked with each impact, then fell to the ground.

Laughing.

As Stacey lost consciousness, that laugh followed her into oblivion.

Chapter 15

"How are you doing, champ?" Connor asked, as he settled onto Stacey's couch next to Justin and handed him an oversized mug of hot chocolate.

"I'm freezing." Dark shadows rimmed the boy's dilated eyes and his skin bore unhealthy pallor-signs of shock. A lock of brown hair fell over his brow, making him appear lost and far younger than his fourteen years.

"I'll get you another blanket."

The front door was open, making the chill worse, but McDougal's men were still clearing out and Justin didn't want to go to his room. He preferred the heavy foot traffic and the drone of the ignored television, because it made him feel safe to be surrounded by so many people.

"Thanks, Connor."

The gratitude on Justin's face hit Connor hard. The Elders would pay for what happened tonight. Dearly.

"You're welcome."

Pushing to his feet, Connor moved toward the hallway and Justin's room. The boy had been given a dose of propranolol in the chopper and he would continue to take the medication four times a day for the next ten days. The "pill to forget" was still experimental, but clinical trials offered hopeful results and Connor had his fingers crossed the drug would work its magic on Justin.

The boy would still remember the events, but the emotions behind the memories would not be there. His recollections would be detached from his feelings, making him an objective observer more so than an emotionally scarred victim. Healers in the Twilight would help with the rest.

Connor was just opening the bedroom door when Aidan stepped out of Stacey's bedroom. "How's she doing?" he asked, his gut tightening.

"She's stable, although still unconscious." Aidan stepped closer. "There's something in her brain, Bruce. It's small-about the size of a grain of rice-but it's foreign. There's no telling how her body will react to it over time."

Reaching a hand out, Connor braced his weight against the wall and sucked in a deep breath. "Fuck… man." He gazed at his friend helplessly. "Do we know what it is?"

"She's talking in her sleep-" Aidan winced, "-in the language of the Ancients."

" What?" Running a hand through his hair, Connor groaned. "How do we get it out of her head?"

"Medically, we can't. Not here in this plane, not without killing her. Humans don't have the technology."

The door to the bedroom opened and a man peaked out. "She's conscious."

Connor straightened. "Can I tell her son? Can he see her?"

"She's lucid," the man said.

"Tell her I'll be there in a minute, okay?" Connor looked Aidan. "I have to get Justin."

Aidan nodded and Connor hurried back to the living room.

"Hey," he said, nearing the sofa. "Your mom's awake."

"Can I see her?" Justin sat up from his reclined position and set his half-empty mug on the coffee table.

"Yeah, come on." Connor helped dig him out from under the three or four blankets he had on and walked with him back to Stacey's room.

They entered the darkened space as quietly as possible. Beside the bed, various monitors beeped and flashed with lights. Stacey lay bundled in the middle, a tiny, fragile form that made Connor's chest tighten.

"Hi, baby," she whispered to Justin, holding out her arms to him. Justin immediately climbed up beside her and began sobbing. Stacey joined him, wrapping her arms around her son and pressing her teary cheek to the top of his head.

The sight made Connor's eyes sting. He looked away and found Aidan by the door. His friend gestured him over and Connor went, glad to be distracted from the emotion of the scene behind him. Emotion that was killing him inside, twisting through his gut like a knife.

"I spoke with her briefly," Aidan whispered. "She says Rachel intends to return for that thing in her head. Whatever it is, they think it's safer with us than them."

Connor's entire body tensed. "Or else they think we'd destroy it if it weren't inside something we couldn't bear to lose. Tell me McDougal's men found Rachel."

"They didn't." Aidan's countenance was grave. "They've been searching the area since you left. There's no trace of her. Despite her injuries, she managed to escape."

"Fuck!"

"Watch the language," Stacey admonished.

He turned to look at her. She stared at him with glistening eyes and puckered her lips in a kissing gesture. A low sound of longing rumbled in his throat.

"I don't know what to do," he said, facing Aidan again. "I don't know where I should go, or what I should do, or how I should feel."

"You do what I did," Aidan said. "You forget the 'shoulds' and you jump."

Connor snorted. "Nothing is ever that easy when it comes to women."

"I didn't say it was easy. But if you want her, make it work. It's worth it to be happy."

Happiness. Connor wanted it. He wanted it with Stacey. "Right." And just that quickly, he decided. "So, before McDougal's men totally clear out, let's get a security system out of them. They've got to have top-of-the-line shit. I want this house locked up so tight Ft. Knox will be jealous. I'll be gone a lot. I need to know they're protected."

"Great idea." Aidan smiled, opened the door, and gestured him out first. "Let's get my money's worth."

Stacey woke with a violent, skull-crushing headache.

Both palms pressed flat to her temples, she rolled and writhed, groaning. She bumped into Justin and he mumbled a protest. Whispering an apology, she rolled the other way and fell off the side of her bed. She hit the floor on her knees and cried out, biting her lower lip to stem any more noises. A quick glance at the clock showed it was nearly three in the morning. The way her head felt, she doubted she'd live to see the sunrise.

She crawled a few feet, then rose by necessity. It was too jarring to move on her hands and knees. How she made it down the hall, she'd never know, but it was colder in the open space of the living room and the chill eased the burning of her skin.

"Stacey?"

Connor's deep brogue curled around her spine and coursed down like warm honey. Relief flooded her and nearly brought her to the floor again.

"Where are you?" she gasped, afraid to open her eyes. The moonlight slanting upward to the ceiling from the shutters was too much light even from behind hastily closed lids. The full brunt would only increase the feeling of having an ice pick piercing straight through to her brain.

"Here," he rumbled, "I'm right here."

Warm arms wrapped around her, cradling her to a hard, nude chest lightly dusted with hair.

"I'm so glad you stayed."

"I'm not leaving you, sweetheart. Even when I'm not here, I won't really be gone."

"My head hurts," she whimpered, tears coursing down her cheeks.

"The doctor left some medicine for you. Let me-"

"No!" She clung to his waistband, recognizing by touch that he wore sweats. The thought of him here, sleeping on her couch, protecting her, made her feel loved and safe in a way nothing else in her life ever had. "Don't leave me."

"Sweetheart." His lips pressed to her forehead and some of the pain eased. "It kills me to see you crying."

"Do that again," she begged. "Kiss me again."

His mouth touched her skin, this time against her closed eyes and lashes, kissing away the tears. The throbbing in her head lessened.

Tilting her neck back, Stacey captured his lips with her own. The instant she tasted him, her blood heated and began to flow, her heart rate picked up. Miraculously, the debilitating pressure eased.

"Stace," he mumbled into her mouth as she grew more fervent. "What are you doing?"

"I want you."

She felt the surprise move through him, then the desire he couldn't control.

"You're nuts," he said, but his hands were on her hips, his fingers sliding beneath her cotton shirt to touch the skin of her back. His touch was soothing, calming.

The more he touched her, the less her head hurt.

"Make love to me," she pleaded.

"Justin…?"

"The laundry room has a door."

"You shouldn't-"

"Now, Connor!"

"Aw, fuck." He picked her up and carried her to the back of the house. Stepping into the laundry room, he kicked aside the basket that held the door open and pushed the portal closed. He sat her down atop the old desk she used as a folding table and stared at her with a bemused smile and hot gaze. "Now what?"

In the back of her mind a sharp squealing noise resembled tires burning rubber. "Don't stop touching me."

Setting his hands on either side of her hips, Connor caged her to the desk and nuzzled his lips against her neck. "Tell me what you need, sweetheart."

She reached for him, embraced him. Beneath her palms she felt hot, silken skin stretched over rippling, flexing muscle and she melted inside. She moaned when his teeth nipped her earlobe. "I need you."

"You've got me." He pressed her back onto the desk and his hand slipped between her legs. Even through the thick camouflage, his fingertips had no trouble giving her what she wanted. "I'm not going anywhere. We'll make this work."

"Yes… oh that feels good…"

"Hmmm," he agreed, deftly freeing the button at her waistband before pulling the zipper down. The whole time his lips, tongue, and teeth were doing something wonderful to the tender skin of her throat and his other hand cushioned the back of her head so that his big, hard body was literally wrapped around hers. The noises in her head fell silent. Or else they were drowned out by the rushing of blood in her ears.

"Connor." Her nostrils filled with his scent. There was no other scent in the world like his-spicy and exotic. Foreign. She loved it. Her very own man of her dreams.

He was right; time didn't matter. What mattered was the way she felt when they were together. He had been a rock of stability when she needed him and she knew he always would be. That was just his way.

She gasped as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her panties.

"How does your head feel?" His voice was dark as sin, his accent thick and dripping with lust.

"I-I…"

"Does your head still hurt?" Connor kissed her with fervent passion, his tongue gliding along hers expertly, taking her mind off everything but him. A rough, edgy growl rumbled in his chest as she grew wet against his fingertips.

"Oh god." Stacey moaned, her eyes clenching shut as he slid a finger inside her. "Fuck me, please! Hurry."

He hushed her frantic cries with his mouth and gently cradled her descent as he laid her flat atop the desk. He tugged her pants down to her knees, lifted her joined legs into air, and set them against his shoulder. When she felt the warm, silky smooth head of his cock, Stacey writhed with hunger, needing him inside her.

"Shh… Here you go, sweetheart," he purred.

Her hands wrapped around the curved edges of the desktop as his thick cock pushed into her. She cried out, arching in pleasure. She was tight in this position, forcing him to work his way into her with short, fierce digs.

Mewling with pleasure, she struggled to take all that he had. "You're too big like this," she gasped.

"You'll take me." He rolled his hips and slid deeper. Advancing. Retreating. Claiming her body inch by tortuously good inch.

Her nails dug crescents into the wood as he stroked deeper, massaging the broad head of his cock across that greedy spot inside her that could never get enough of him.

"Stacey," he breathed roughly, pumping his hips. "Your pussy is so damn tight like this. Like a hot, wet fist. So fucking good. I think I might come before I get all the way inside you."

"Don't you dare!" She cupped her aching breasts and squeezed. "You started this. You better finish."

"Oh, I'll finish." His gorgeous face was flushed, his eyes dark, his forehead misted with sweat. "Fuck… yeah… I'm going to finish. Deep inside you."

Dear god, would she survive it?

He was working her into a frenzy, thrusting harder and faster. The waistband of his sweats, lowered just to his hips, rubbed against her thighs. The sight was intensely erotic, as was her position, bound and positioned for his pleasure. His hips swiveled and thrust, in and out. Her cunt rippled along his cock, on the verge of orgasm.

Stacey's back arched, her entire body tense and expectant. This was what she needed, what she wanted. To be connected to him, wanted by him. "Yes…"

Connor stroked deeper, his heavy testicles slapping rhythmically against the curve of her ass, making her pussy clench tight around him. She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, taking in his passion-flushed features and the lock of golden hair that fell over his brow. His biceps and pectorals were defined by the effortless hold he had on her. His abdomen flexed as he fucked her, the golden skin glistening with sweat.

"You're mine," he gritted out. "I'm keeping you."

His possessiveness thrilled her, pushing her that last little bit she needed to climax. Stacey bit her lip to keep from crying out as the orgasm tightened her entire body.

Connor grunted and fucked through her spasms, increasing his pace until she thought she would scream with the pleasure. It was only the nearby door and their need for privacy that forced her to silence.

She felt him swell, grow impossibly harder, and then he groaned, " Stacey…"

His hips jack hammered against hers, rocking the old desk, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs. His cock jerked, then spurted, filling her in a thick rush of heat. He continued to take her, stroking through her clenching pussy, emptying his lust and love at the deepest point of her.

"Fuck," he gasped when it was over, resting his cheek against her calf. "You'll kill me."

"My head doesn't hurt anymore," she said in breathless wonder.

"I can't even feel my head," Connor replied. "I think you blew it off."

She laughed with pure feminine triumph.

Stepping back, Connor withdrew from her body. He dried his cock with a nearby towel and tugged up his sweats, then he took care of cleaning and dressing her.

"Come here, baby." Connor's voice was filled with tenderness as he collected her in his arms.

Stacey held on tight. "I think I'm falling love with you." she admitted shyly. "I hope that doesn't freak you out. I have a tendency to jump into things and with you-"

His lips pressed against hers, halting the spill of words. "Go ahead and jump," he urged hoarsely. "I'll jump with you."