Текст книги "Tempting Whispers"

Автор книги: T. A. Grey

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

A sob left her then she flung herself into his arms. He braced barely a second before he caught her.

Someone cleared his throat and Brayden looked over his shoulder. The butler stood there, his gaze on the ground. “King Brunes has a busy schedule. If you wish to finish your interview it must be now, sir.”

Brayden opened the passenger door then pushed Vanessa into the seat. He buckled her in, then reached across her to turn on the car’s A/C. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

Her eyes opened wide and scared. “Don’t leave me. He’s out there right now.”

He leaned in close to her and cupped her cheek. “He won’t do anything with me around, and I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll be just a minute. Lock the doors after me.” Then he pressed a quick kiss across her lips and shut the door.

He found Brunes in his office. “Everything all right?” Brunes asked in a voice that clearly said he didn’t care.

Brayden marched right up to him and got in his face. For the first time, Brunes’ temper flashed in his eyes. “You had something to do with her death, I know it. Maybe you even straight-up beat her and threw her off the boat like a piece of trash. Either way, I’m gonna find out. Then I’m taking you down.”

“Be careful whom you threaten, Justicar.”

“I’m also going to find out if you had anything to do with Justicar Daniel’s death. Be sure, if I do, you’re going down for that, too. You got me?”

Brunes’ cheek clenched, then he smiled. “The case is closed, Justicar. Let it go. Everyone else has.”

“Not everyone,” he said.

A flicker of emotion, anger, flashed in Brunes’ eyes. “Sarina never did adjust to her mother’s death. She’s got a bit of a soft side.”

“Maybe, because you killed her mother.”

Brunes’ smiled broader. “It’ll take more than your puny questions to break through me, Justicar. I have nothing to hide. Good luck with your investigation. I have a feeling you’ll be needing it.”

Brayden swung on his heel and headed toward the door. At the last second, he turned around. “Do you know what my track record is for catching murderers?”

Brunes lifted a bored eyebrow.

“One hundred per cent. Just think on that, why don't you?”

He slammed the door behind him.

Chapter 10

“Sit down and drink this.” Brayden shoved a cold can of Coke under her nose until she took it.

She popped the tab with a fizzy hiss and sipped the sweet syrupy drink. Her eyes searched his office. “Why are we here? Shouldn’t we be doing something about Joseph?” God, he knows where I am.

“We can’t do anything about Joseph except keep you away from him. I’m going to call your father and see if he’ll void the contract. If not...then we’ll move on from there.”

She set the cold can on the desk and dug her palms into her eyes. “And why are we here?” she asked again. She didn’t want to talk about Joseph now. Every time they did, the road led to a dead end with no possible out except to go back from where she came. And she couldn’t do that.

“King Brunes said Daniel was killed. I have to look into it.”

Her eyes shot to his. “The Justicar we just met with?”

He nodded, his expression grim. “Seems he got his skull bashed in by car tires—twice. Stay here; I’ll be right back.”

He left and closed the office door after him. She fidgeted in her seat, then finally turned the chair so she could keep an eye on the door. She didn’t like having it at her back...anyone could come in behind her.

She couldn’t help but notice his office. It looked as immaculately clean as his home did. The desk was black and shiny, his walls a shiny bright white that gleaned back the reflection of the fluorescent light overhead. It all felt very hospital-like.

A shadow appeared in the doorway. Some instinct inside made her freeze, as if by not moving, the shadow wouldn’t be able to see her and would go away. The thick-paned glass showed no features, only the figure of a man. The hairs at the back of her neck stood on end and her stomach muscles bunched hard like she was about to take a hit. She dared not even take a breath.

It could be him.

The figure turned to face the door and she sucked in a breath. She already knew what would happen next. The door would open and Joseph’s stocky face would be there with his angry dark eyes and hard fists. The head of the figure moved as if searching inside the office or reading the label on the door which read: Justicar Brayden Erickson. The figure might have stood there for only a few seconds, but it felt as though time had stilled. She wanted to leap from her seat and switch the light off, but then whoever it was would know someone was in there for sure. She wanted to turn the small lock on the handle, but she couldn’t move. She sat rooted in place in fear.

Then the figure turned and kept walking down the hall. Only then did she release the breath she’d been holding.

The door swung open and she screamed. Brayden eyed her curiously; he had a thick manila envelope in his hands. He checked her from head to toe, then closed the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. “Nothing. Just freaking myself out, I think.”

His gaze fell down, left her eyes. “You can stop gripping the chair like you’re trying to strangle it now.”

Startled, she looked down to find what he saw. She had a death grip on the arms of the chair. Slowly, she uncurled her fingers, but then they felt empty so she grabbed her can of soda two-handed and drank it. The taste fell flat and lifeless on her tongue.

He moved around her and took a seat at his desk. She didn’t even watch him move, just heard his soft steps on the carpet floor. Her gaze stay glued to the thick-paned glass, which made everything on the outside look milky and blurred, sinister.

“Vanessa.”

She jumped, then looked at him. She hated the look on his face. The concern. It made her feel like a crazy person whom he couldn’t dare leave alone for a minute without doing something nutty.

“Yeah?”

“Just give me a minute and I’ll get you out of here. You’re safe with me. You know that, right?”

She took a deep breath and let it out. The man had tracked down kidnappers just to save her. He’d killed them with his freaking hands. Yes, she knew he could be dangerous, and yes she trusted, so she nodded.

What she soon realized as she crossed her legs into an Indian-style position was that Brayden’s sense of time was way off. He poured over papers, his brow furrowed deep, occasionally scribbling down notes in a small black notebook as the hour hand on the clock on the wall ticked by. He didn’t speak. He didn’t even make a sound except when he flipped a page over or tucked it behind the rest of the stack.

Her skin felt itchy. She couldn’t stop scratching her nails across her arms. Pink lines had already started to appear across her forearms like she’d been under some kind of animal attack. Every few seconds or so, it seemed, she found herself staring at that door waiting to see if the figure would appear again. But it didn’t. He didn’t.

Seething inside, she scrubbed a hand through her hair and tugged until the strands pulled along her scalp nearing the point of pain—then she pulled harder until spikes of pain exploded along her skull. Her heart rate calmed then and her body relaxed, some.

Sighing, she looked back at Brayden and found him staring intently at her. A flush came over her. Had he just seen her childish little tug-of-hair bit? His eyes flicked up to her hair and she gulped. Yes, yes he did.

“All right, let’s get out of here.”

She was out of her seat and waiting at the door in a flash. “God, I feel like I’ve been cramped up in here all day.” Looking back at the clock, she moaned. More like three hours. Brayden’s sense of timing was way off.

He shoved the files back into the folder then led her out of the office. She glanced behind them but found only an empty hall with shiny white floors that looked freshly cleaned and buffed. No mysterious man waiting for her at the end of the hallway.

Cool air greeted her outside. It felt like a breath of fresh air after the stifling pounding of the A/C unit in the office. “Did you find out anything interesting?” she asked.

He didn’t answer for a moment. At the SUV parked in the lot, he opened her door and let her climb in. Only after he climbed in and took off did he answer. “The first car that hit Daniel was a hit and run. It happened late last night. Two witnesses saw it happen, but said it was too dark to get a license plate number. Only recalled that it was a ‘dark car’. The second car that hit him had been an accident from all accounts. The woman who’d done it is human with a husband, small house, and four kids. Paperwork says she slammed on the brakes as soon as she saw Daniel get hit. But the car who hit him sped off fast, and even hitting her brakes, it wasn’t enough to stop her in time. She ran him over.”

Vanessa’s stomach rolled with a curling queasiness. “God, that’s awful. That poor woman.”

“Reports said they had a hard time talking to her. She was nearly incoherent from crying. We’ll go have a talk with her soon.”

Vanessa's gaze slammed to his. “Say what? Why? After what she went through?”

He nodded and his voice grew harder. “Yes, we have to. Or rather, I have to. I need to talk to her myself. What kind of food do you like?” he asked.

The quick change of topic sent her fumbling. “Um, Mexican is pretty great.”

He nodded. A few minutes later, he pulled into a brightly lit and colorful restaurant. A folksy trumpet blared an uppity beat over the speakers outside. The aromas of spicy meat, corn, and flour instantly brought a smile to her a face and a growl to her stomach.

“Do you think he’s trying to cover this whole thing up since you’re looking into it?”

He grabbed her hand making her stomach clench with something warm and exciting. His was so much bigger, stronger than her. His palms were slightly coarse, his skin not quite as warm as hers, but still warm enough she’d like to cuddle against him and just let him hold her. Her stomach dancing with excited nerves when he threaded their fingers together. When his thumb made a pass across hers, her breath stuttered.

“That’s exactly what he’s doing.”

An hour later, she was fed. No, stuffed more like, with refried beans, chicken and beef enchiladas and a lot of extra guacamole and cheese. She’d even ordered a strawberry margarita under Brayden’s warning eyes. She’d hesitated, but ordered it anyway. She had one life to live, might as well live it up. And, by God, did she make the right choice. That margarita was delicious! She finished the whole thing while gobbling up her enchiladas in record time.

“Oh, my God, thisish sogood,” she mumbled with a mouth full of food.

Brayden watched her but didn’t say anything. With the last bite gone, she fell back in the padded seat and pressed a hand to her belly. Amazing, but apparently food had the ability to make everything seem so much better than it really was. Like she was under some kind of food high, because she couldn’t help smiling at Brayden. Her shoulders sagged, beyond relaxed, and her whole body had the lithe, puddingy feeling to it, like she had too much water in her.

“I feel great.”

“That’s the alcohol speaking.”

She leaned an elbow on the table, grinning madly and rested her chin on her hand. She loved the two points at the top of his lip, the long path of his nose. “Oh, really? And it doesn’t happen to be because I just ate the best enchiladas ever?”

He didn’t crack a smile. “I’m sure they tasted good, but no, it’s the alcohol. The margaritas here are somewhat famous for having a good bit of alcohol in them.”

She closed her eyes and slumped in her seat. “Mmm and damn good, too.”

She must have had her eyes closed for more than just a second. A warm hand curled around her shoulder, and a finger slipped across her collarbone in a single caress. Her eyes jerked open, then up to find Brayden there. And she’d never heard him move.

“Come on, it’s time to get out of here.”

She took his hand so he could help her up, which was good, because apparently she needed it. The room spun a full 180-degrees before it settled back again. And she could still feel his touch on her bare skin, minutes after he paid and tugged her out of the restaurant. She hopped into the car, bouncing in her seat with her hands tucked under her thighs. Brayden’s big body curled in next to her and she wished there wasn’t a console separating them. A pretty night like this, with good food and booze in her belly, she wanted to curl up against him with his arm wrapped around her shoulders and her head on his shoulder and just drive.

Of course, that was crazy thinking. They took off down the road with him firmly stuck in his seat, minus the seatbelt, and her firmly in hers, plus seatbelt. Lykaens could take a good beating, but they weren’t as impermeable to damage as vampires were. They lived long lives if some untimely death didn’t catch them, but even they needed seatbelts. A shiver raced through her. Her cousins had seen just how fast a car crash could steal life away when they lost their parents.

“I’m calling your father in the morning, then we’ll go see the human from the accident.” He flicked a glance at her and his brows pulled low. “Why are you staring at me?”

She laughed; okay, maybe it was more of a giggle. She tucked her left leg up under her right one then turned in her seat with her back to the door. “I was just thinking how your beard grows in fast. You’d just shaved it and already stubble is coming back.” He looked real good with that bit of stubble.

He ran a hand across his cheek as if to confirm this, then shrugged. “Guess it does.”

“I like it.” Maybe it was the way she said it, which may have been breathless, or the fact that she leaned forward in her seat toward him, but he shot her a look so hot she almost moaned. That wasn’t even a lie; she almost actually moaned at the look. A look that said he could tear off her clothes and be inside her in less than thirty seconds if he wanted to right now. And that he really did want to.

Her heart pounded way too hard and fast. She pressed her hand to it and took a deep breath. Only after his gaze returned to the road did her heartbeat return to normal. But the evidence of his scathing look still lingered with her, in her wet panties.

“What happened in the office?” he asked.

God, she really didn’t want to talk about that. She still didn’t know if it’d been her overactive imagination or really Joseph. It could have just been another Justicar looking for Brayden, or the janitor walking down the hall. But then, what had made me so scared? She screwed her eyes shut and expelled those thoughts. Joseph wasn’t going to ruin her good mood or any more of her life. She’d already let him do that for two years. No more.

“Nothing, just let myself get spooked. You know, I think you’re one of the few men who’d look really hot with a beard. I’m not talking ZZ Top beards, but a short one.” She sighed as the picture of him with a crisp, short beard came to mind. Yup, hot shit.

He didn’t say anything, and a little while later they pulled under the detached garage port. He let her in the house then headed to his office, manila envelope tucked under his arm, without a word. Well, that was that, she guessed. Did her hot beard comment set him off or something?

She must be stupid, or at the very least, overly emotional, because when he closed the door without a word, her heart actually felt squeezing pressure over it like some weight sat on her chest. Yup, it was stupid and silly, but it hurt her feelings. Cursing him with every bad name she knew, she treaded up the stairs and stopped at the hallway to her door. Actually, it felt like something stopped her, some instinct. She stared at her door, thinking through slow alcohol-muddled thoughts, then it hit her. When they’d left that morning, she hadn’t closed her door, but it was firmly shut now. A soft laugh escaped her. Gail must have been up here cleaning.

She let out a deep breath then opened the door. She hit the light, but didn’t go inside as her narrowed eyes surveyed the room. Empty, nothing. Her bed had been made and some of the clothes must have been washed because they were stacked neatly and folded on her dresser.

“God I need a shower,” she mumbled and headed for the dresser. She found even more clothes in the dresser drawers all smelling of lovely fresh lavender and folded into little squares. She had to remember to thank Gail, because she’d done all of her laundry, even washed the new clothes she’d just bought. Okay, that Brayden just bought.

She grabbed a T-shirt and pair of undies from the dresser, then stopped. A cold sweat came over her. Her chest pulled tight, making it hard to breathe.

“Brayden,” she whispered. Then louder, “Brayden. Brayden! BRAYDEN!”

Booming footsteps from the stairs sounded, hammering in time to the beat of her raucous heart. “What the fuck happened?”

She stepped back from the dresser, finger pointing. His body pressed against her back and somehow her breathing calmed if only a little. His body stilled, then he crossed in front of her to pick up the mating symbol pressed between her clothes. He’d been in here. In her things. He picked up the rope made from her and Joseph’s hair and clothing on the day they mated. The first day he’d taken her to bed and touched her. Her skin crawled like millions of ants dancing across her flesh with wet, scratchy legs.

“Take your stuff and go to my room.”

“He was here. He was actually here.” Her voice sounded faraway, distant.

“Vanessa, get your clothes and go to my room now.”

“But, he was here! In your house. In my things.” Her eyes landed on the mating symbol in his hand and something hot and angry came over her. “Give it to me!” She reached for it, but he held it away. Her jaw tightened but she didn’t stop reaching for it. “I’m going to burn the fucking thing. Just give it to me, Brayden!”

“Vanessa, calm down. It’s okay.”

His soothing voice sounded grating on her very last nerve. She stood on tiptoed, curling her hands into his shirt and yelled into his face. “I will not calm down! Give me the fucking symbol!”

He blinked, something flashing in his eyes. Her frustrated mind had no time to analyze it, to figure out what the look meant. But she figured out rather quickly when his arms banded around her waist and lifted her up so his mouth could claim hers. She growled at him, squirming in his arms to get away, but his grip at her waist only tightened, one hand coming up to cup the back of her head to keep her still.

And it worked. Then his mouth captured hers hard. His tongue tore through her defenses, laving her in a kiss of steamy fire, and anger turned to passion. Her stomach clenched in response, even as her mind warred with the different, startling emotions of anger and desire. He tasted good, and she didn’t want him to. His lips felt soft and sensual against hers, and she hated that even more. And when his kiss gentled and he softly took her lips over and again, she wilted against him like a flower, completely in his control.

He pulled back, his hand massaging her scalp in a way that sent chills down her neck and arms. “Go into my room, baby. The lock code is four, seven, two, nine. Can you do that for me?”

The protest started to erupt before she could quench it, but that was okay, because he did it for her. His mouth slanted across hers, their breaths mingling.

“Can you do that for me?”

She nodded, dazed. He stepped away from her and the room spun, but not from alcohol this time. She walked out of the room without feeling her limbs. She felt like a zombie, or a robot performing the programmed function necessary for the task. She found his door, entered a code on the pad next to it, something that’d escaped her attention before, then entered. The room was dark, very dark, but her eyes adjusted and landed on the dark coverlet of his bed sitting low to the floor.

She went to it, pulled back the cover and got inside. She suddenly felt exhausted. All the energy it’d taken today had sapped her. She pressed her nose into the pillow and sniffed his scent, Brayden’s scent. It made her feel warm and safe. With the heady masculine taste of Brayden on her tongue, her lips, she closed her eyes and fell asleep faster than ever before.