Bound to Shadows (23 page)

“Why on earth would they do that? I thought they were all hightailing it out of the state until
the crisis was over.”
His expression was grim. “They were ordered not to by the greater council, who plans to use them
as bait.”
I blinked. “Talk about a bloodthirsty method of getting your man!”
“And if they get the
wrong
man, things could get very nasty for all
of us.” He pointed his pen at me. “So you will wear something pretty to Dante’s and distract the
hell out of Starke.”
I glanced at my watch. It was after eleven, so I really didn’t have time to go home and clean up.
“I’ll need some fresh clothes if I’m going to distract Starke. And you need to let me know the
minute Kade and his people have finished so I can get the hell out of there.”
“We will. Now go. And don’t expect the Directorate to cough up huge amounts of money for the
outfit. Think budget sexy.”
“I’ll try.” I gulped down the last of the horrendous coffee, then headed up the stairs and down
the street to the Direct Factory Outlet Center to find something suitable to wear.
It was just after twelve-thirty by the time I arrived at Dante’s. I climbed out of the car then
adjusted my skirt, smoothing the tight material over my hips. I’d been tempted just to wear jeans
and a T-shirt, but Jack had ordered a complete distraction.
The tight black skirt with the teasing split that went high up my right thigh and the dark-green,
button-up top that was almost—but not quite—see-through were certainly that. And there were just
enough buttons undone to reveal a slight hint of breast. A tease, not a full-on show.
Now I just had to survive the full force of his “distraction” and try to avoid getting
laid.
Of course, the outfit made the knife and its protective sheath sitting at the base of my spine
somewhat obvious, but I wasn’t going to go into that place without some sort of weapon at hand.
In fact, I had several, because my purse held my laser as well as my keys—and in the right hands,
those little bits of metal could be quite dangerous indeed.
Especially when they had the power of a dhampire behind them.
I glanced at my watch, saw that it was time, and strolled toward Dante’s. The guard at the door
was new—to my knowledge, at least—and he eyed me intently, his face giving little away.
“I need to talk to Dante Starke,” I said, taking my badge from my purse and showing it to him.
“Is he in at the moment?”
His gaze swept the badge then he nodded. “One moment, and I’ll see if he’s available.”
His gaze went blank, meaning that, like the guard who’d worked here before him, he was a newer
vampire. Maybe Starke couldn’t afford more seasoned personnel.
“He said he’ll meet you in his office shortly.” He opened the door and I walked inside the gloom
of the club. Once again, the smell assaulted my senses, making me pause. The riot of hunger and
lust, all entwined with the scent of humanity, vampire, booze, and blood, had my stomach turning.
Yet once again, a tiny part of my soul was turned on by it.
I walked toward the bar. The same man was there, still chewing gum and looking
superior.
“Hey, you’re looking pretty special today,” he said, his gaze sweeping my body and lingering on
the length of thigh. “The boss is a lucky man.”
“This outfit is not for your boss’s benefit but rather for the man I have a hot date with after
this interview. So if you could hurry your boss along, it would be most appreciated.”
“If I had known such a delicious treat waited for me,” Dante said, his voice sliding up from
behind me and wrapping around me as seductively as a caress, “I would most certainly have been
here to receive you.”
I turned around. He was standing four feet away and I hadn’t even heard him approach. His golden
hair was tousled and his tight-fitting shirt was untucked and not fully buttoned, revealing
teasing glimpses of tight golden curls. He was wearing black pants that were neatly creased and
seemed to emphasize the sheer size of him, and his feet were bare.
He’d just come from his bed, I thought, and tried to shake the image from my mind.
“As I just said, the treat is not for you.” I might be under orders to distract the man, but any
sudden change of attitude was going to raise suspicions—especially if he
was
our man. “I just have a few quick questions, then I’ll be gone
again.”
“I’m shattered,” he said, his expression crestfallen but golden eyes twinkling. “Boris, a bottle
of our finest.”
“You know I can’t drink it.” I crossed my arms, forcing my breasts a little closer together and
making it totally obvious that I wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Of course you can’t,” he agreed, his gaze barely flickering to my chest, yet the heat of him
seeming to leap substantially—flaring white hot then just as quickly disappearing, as if he were
controlling it tightly. “With two glasses, please.”
Boris grinned and wandered off to wherever they stashed the good stuff. Starke waved a hand
toward the office. “After you, sweet thing.”
I snorted softly and led the way, trying but not entirely succeeding in keeping the distance
between us.
“That knife is an interesting addition to your outfit,” Starke commented, his voice low and
gently seductive. “And it does put an interesting twist on what you consider a hot
date.”
“That knife is for you.” I wrapped my hand around the handle of the office door and pushed it
open. “And if you get too touchy-feely, I
will
use it.”
He laughed. The sound rumbled pleasantly across my senses. “I shall consider myself
warned.”
But not frightened off, obviously.
The office was no less sparsely furnished than before, although one additional item had been
added more recently. As well as the two plush velvet armchairs, there was now also a huge chaise
longue.
Its message was obvious.
I thrust the images of golden skin and hard bodies delightfully entwined away irritably and
forced my feet firmly in the direction of the chairs. I sat down, crossing my legs and ensuring
the skirt’s split revealed plenty. Including, if he looked hard enough, the fact I was wearing
lacy black panties. I glanced at my watch and saw it was now twelve forty. The power should be
failing at any minute.
“I just have a few questions to ask,” I said briskly, entwining my fingers and resting them on my
lap. His gaze followed the movement and lingered on the skin being revealed. “It shouldn’t take
that long.”
“Please, take all the time you want.” He pulled the other chair closer and sat down, the action
grace itself. “I am quite enjoying the view.”
I made a slight attempt to adjust the skirt. “I would prefer it if you didn’t.”
“And I’d prefer it if you were naked and putty in my arms, but we can’t all get what we want, now
can we?”
“Thankfully, in this case, no.”
He smiled and touched a toe to my calf. Delight shimmered up my leg, heating me in ways I
couldn’t even begin to describe.
I shifted so that his touch fell away. His amusement grew stronger, twitching his lips.
“Do you know a man called Kye Murphy?”
He frowned, pretending to consider the question as his deep-lidded gaze slithered up to my
breasts then down to my legs again. “Should I?”
“We know he’s been to this club.”
He arched a pale eyebrow. “And how would you know that? I do hope you haven’t bugged the place.
That would be most inconsiderate, considering I’ve gone out of my way to help you.”
“It’s the Directorate’s business to be inconsiderate—especially when we’re chasing a killer.” I
paused, and allowed a small smile to touch my lips. “However, we haven’t bugged you. I saw him
when I was viewing the security camera tapes.”
“Ah, of course.” He laced his fingers and dropped them on his lap—drawing my gaze to the bulge
that was his crotch. I have to say, it seemed even more impressive now than it had before. But
then, if this guy
was
a flesh-shifting wraith who could alter his
body any way he wished, he wouldn’t exactly be gifting himself with small bits, would
he?
The lights chose that moment to go out, plunging us into darkness. I breathed a silent sigh of
relief. At least things were going to plan.
So far, at least.
A few seconds later, the lights flickered and came on again, but this time their glow was much
dimmer. A backup generator was powering the emergency lighting, obviously.
There was a knock at the door, and when Starke said “Enter,” Boris opened the door, a tray of
Bollinger and two glasses in hand. “The power has just crapped out, boss,” he said, placing the
tray on the little table beside Starke’s chair.
“Then deal with it,” Starke said, “and ensure I’m not disturbed for as long as Ms. Jenson is
here.”
“Which won’t be long at all,” I assured them both.
The barkeeper smirked. Starke merely looked amused. Once Boris had left and the door was once
again closed, he said, “So why is this Murphy fellow of interest to you?”
“Because he’s a hired hit man, and we don’t believe his reasons for being in town.”
Starke’s toe was somehow caressing my leg again, and desire began to unfurl inside of me. But I
didn’t shift my leg, if only because it was already hard up against the arm of the
chair.
“So you suspect that he’s behind these beheadings?” Starke poured two glasses of Bollinger and
handed one to me, his fingers lingering briefly against mine.
I pulled my hand away and placed the glass on the floor. He tut-tutted. “Come now, Ms. Jenson,
you know the rules. I cannot answer questions if you’re going to waste the nectar of
life.”
“I thought blood was the nectar of life for you vampires?”
“Only to those who do not have the good taste or the fortune to afford life’s true
necessities.”
“Which blood is to a vampire.”
“Only to some. For me, the only thing sweeter than Bollinger is the taste of a woman dripping
with desire.”
His gaze met mine, and caused all sorts of havoc to my breathing. I reached down, picked up the
glass, and tried to get my breathing under control.
Slowly in, slowly
out
. It was simple, really.
Only my mind fastened on the words and suddenly began imagining other things going slowly in and
slowly out. And
that
caused still more chaos.
I took a sip of the deliciously cool liquid, but it didn’t do a lot to stamp out the sparks
threatening to become a bonfire.
God, if this man
wasn’t
the wraith, then he was something just as
dangerous. Hell, the use of werewolf auras was restricted by law, and this damn well should be,
too.
I cleared my throat and said, “So, Kye Murphy.”
He shrugged. It was an elegant movement. “He could have come here. I don’t know everyone who
visits my establishment. But perhaps a description would help?”
“He’s several inches taller than me, with dark red hair, golden eyes, and a strong
build.”
“And a werewolf, like you?”
“Yes.” I took another sip of champagne.
“Then I doubt it.” His sudden smile was wicked. “We don’t really cater to their
addiction.”
“We like sex, but it’s not an addiction.” It might be a necessity during the full moon, but that
was different. I glanced surreptitiously at my watch. Little more than ten minutes had passed.
Time had obviously decided to slow to a crawl. I hoped Kade and his crew weren’t intending to do
the same.
“So, you’re admitting you like sex, and yet you refuse to have it with me. I find that most
disappointing.”
“I’m working. And did I mention my hot date?”
He smiled. It was lazy, insolent, and oh so sexy. “I simply thought I could get you primed and
ready.”
I was primed and ready to go right
now
, and if I didn’t do something
to distract this man—or whatever the hell he actually was—I was going to be exactly where he
wanted me to be. In his arms and naked.
But there was only one thing more I could think to question him about, and if he
was
our flesh-shifter, it would warn him we were onto him.
And yet, better he be warned than me having sex with him. That was my only other option right
now.
I exchanged my drink for my purse and pulled out the picture Kye had given me. “I don’t suppose
you know this man, then?”
He reached for the printout, his fingers briefly caressing my wrist before sliding down to grasp
the piece of paper. A tremor ran through me and I took a large slug of champagne. If Kade didn’t
hurry his ass, I was never going to get through this.
Either I was getting depressingly staid in my old age, or he just felt too dangerous for my wolf
to handle.
Or maybe I’d finally realized that the real joy in sex was not just the motion and the pleasure
but the emotions that clicked in when you became involved with that one special person.
Of course, I had two special people to contend with, but that was just fate being a
bitch.
“I think I have seen him around a couple of times,” Starke mused, looking at the
printout.
“And can you tell me anything about him?”
“Perhaps.” Amusement twitched his lips. “But I can’t possibly say anything without getting
something in return.”
“I am not going to get naked and sweaty with you.” I took another drink, and realized I’d somehow
finished the glass. “I already have a plan to do that with someone else.”
A full-blown grin erupted. It was stunning. “All I ask is for you to undo two buttons.”
“Two buttons?”
“Yes.” He picked up the champagne and refilled my glass, his knees pressing briefly and sensually
against mine. “Just two little buttons.”
I pretended to consider the request, then swiftly undid the buttons. The flimsy shirt fell
farther open, revealing the dark pink edges of areola.
“Lovely,” he all but purred. “Simply lovely.”
“The information, Starke,” I said dryly.
“Of course.” He filled his own glass then added, “He’s not a regular here, but I have seen him on
a few occasions.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why would you notice him when you didn’t notice someone like
Murphy?”
“Because this man didn’t come here to feed or be fed on. He had several drinks at the bar and
walked out again.
That
we notice.”
“When was the last time he was here?” I took another sip of Bollinger and a nice little buzz
began to fill my head. Champagne—and most other alcohol—didn’t really affect wolves to the extent
that it did humans, thanks to our higher metabolic rate, but it did provide a happy little high
before said metabolism kicked in.