Embrace the Night (6 page)

She moved past him, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Tatiana, wait. Are you gonna tell me what the hell is going on?”

She looked back at him, saw the hundred questions in his eyes. “Someday,” she said, and then took off at a run. She was out the door before he could speak again.

**

Ralph snapped his fingers in her face. “Hello, Earth to Tatiana.”

She blinked twice, realizing where she was. Her best friend still sat next to her on the couch. She clutched the near empty glass of milk in her hand so tightly, a crack was running in a jagged line down one side. Sitting the glass down, she took a series of deep breaths.

He touched her shoulder, looked at her. “You never told me where you went that night.”

She leaned back on the cushion behind her. “Looking for Wyatt, where else? When I found his ass smoking weed in the park around the corner, I...” She stopped, because the memory became fuzzy at that point. She could, however, clearly remember Wyatt's terrified, feminine screams.

He shook his head. “Maybe I don't want to know the rest of that story. I know Wyatt turned up missing and no one has seen him in the last four years, so I can let that go.” He stretched his arms behind his head. “But staying with your sister that night, I noticed some things.”

“Like?” She wanted him to elaborate.

“Like within an hour of your leaving, her bruises were healed. She was up and reading a bedtime story to Ava before I knew it.”

She nodded. “That's part of the gift we have. Tara told me she called Mom and Dad to let them know she was okay, then shooed you out.” She let her gaze wander the ceiling above her. “I can't believe I forgot all that.”

“You know, folks block unpleasant memories all the time. I knew there was something supernatural and strange about you, and your sister for that matter, but I never would have guessed what you told me.” His gaze turned thoughtful for a moment. “Come to think of it, Ava did say something about 'the kitty in mommy.'”

“There's more.”

He put his hand over his chest. “Good Lord, what more could there be?”

“I'm in an organization. I can't go into detail about it, but we're good guys, helping the government fight crime. I'm on a case right now and one of the guys on my team...”

“So, it is a man! I knew it!” He clapped his hands together.

“Shut up.” She punched him in the shoulder, with very little force. “His name is John, and I can't stand him. But there's something about him, something I don't have a name for. Anyway he's been flirting with me.”

“You like him. I can see it all over your face.” Ralph shook his head. “Well, I'm sure you can handle him, being a hair pressing, ass kicking, shape-shifting crime fighter and all that. But I'll give you advice if you should need it.”

She sighed. In a way, she felt relieved to share the burdensome secret with someone else. If only dealing with John could be this easy. “Now you remember what I said. You can't tell anybody.”

Ralph waved his hand, dismissing her statement. “Girl, please. I'm not about to get mixed up in that. Besides, who in the hell would believe me if I did?”

He chuckled, and she joined him. Before long they were both laughing like kids with a corny joke book.

When they finally got over their hysteria, Tatiana wiped a tear away from her cheek. “Thanks for being so understanding about this. I know it's pretty weird.”

“No problem. Besides, I'm from bayou country in Louisiana. This ain't the first time I've encountered weird.” He paused, glanced at his watch. “Shit, it's already three. I gotta go, my oldest daughter has a gymnastics meet in about thirty minutes.”

“Alright, go do the daddy thing,” she said, smiling as they both rose from the couch.

At the front door, she hugged him. “Thanks for being such a good friend, Ralph.”

He winked. “Don't get all mushy on me. Later, T.”

A few minutes later, as she closed the door behind him, she smiled to herself.
Ralph may be the last good man on Earth.
So far, she held no such aspirations for John Groves.

CHAPTER 6

John hung his coat on the wooden rack in the wide foyer of PHOENIX regional headquarters. He'd just stepped out of the chilly early October winds, and braced himself to face the even chillier presence of Tatiana, the snappy tigress commanding his team. Straightening his suit outwardly and “girding his loins” inwardly, he made his way to the conference room.

When he walked in, he found Junjie already seated at the table. The sorcerer Marcelo was nowhere in sight. After exchanging a wave of greeting with his buddy, John's eyes fell on his superior.

She was at the whiteboard on the east wall, her back turned to him, furiously writing on the board's surface. His eyes lingered on her tall, curvaceous frame, draped in a dark blue blouse and a black pencil skirt that hugged her hips like a lover's caress. Long, black pantyhose encased legs extended beneath the skirt, and she wore a pair of blue high heels with confidence.

His groin tightened, and he drug his eyes away from her tempting ass, only to find J watching him with a knowing look. “What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

Junjie shook his head. “I didn’t say anything. Just hope she doesn't turn around, man.”

Without halting her frenetic writing, or turning around, she called over her shoulder. “I don't need to. I can hear every word you're saying.”

Feeling like a student caught talking in a middle school classroom, John took a seat next to his friend.

“Busted,” Junjie whispered.

John rolled his eyes, just as Marcelo entered the room. He joined them at the table, and they exchanged pleasantries until Tatiana stopped writing and faced them.

“Alright,” she announced. “If you're all ready, we need to get started.”

John and his counterparts nodded, and she launched into a speech.

“As I'm sure you've been informed, some sports memorabilia was taken two nights ago from the Sports Hall of Fame inside the museum of history.”

“Meadowlark Lemon's Globetrotters uniform,” Junjie volunteered.

“Correct.” Tatiana produced a retractable pointer from her shirt pocket, extending it. She gestured to a spot on the word 'suspect' on the board. “This time the perpetrator revealed herself to a security guard, but only briefly.”

Marcelo asked, “Is there security footage of the person?”

She shook her head. “No. She probably knew where the cameras were, so she positioned herself in a way that blocked her from being filmed. Another display case obscured the view of her.”

John scratched his chin.
She?
So they were dealing with a female suspect. He didn't know what intrigued him more, the idea of pursuing a lady burglar, or the idea of sliding his palm up Tatiana's silk encased thigh, watching that black skirt rise over those plump, tempting hips...

“Ahem.”

Her voice broke into his fantasy. “I'm sorry, what did you say?”

She rolled her eyes. “Pay attention, or I'll impale you with this damn pointer.” She turned the tip toward him and he assumed she meant business. “I said, we got an excellent description from the security guard, but our perp was wearing a Mardi Gras type mask. What we know about her is written on the board.” She slapped the words with her pointer for emphasis. “Write it down.”

Junjie elbowed him. “Take some notes, man. You're slacking.”

John pulled out the small legal pad he kept in the pocket of his sport coat and looked at the board again. He took a felt tip pen from his outer pocket and jotted down the details:
black female, five feet three inches in height. Brown hair, brown eyes. Approximately sixteen years of age. Wearing blue jeans, white sneakers and turtleneck top, and white domino style mask.
Looking at the words when he'd finished writing, he frowned.
Sixteen? Kids are turning to antiquities theft that young?
It seemed ridiculous to him; at sixteen he'd only been interested in archeology, girls, and getting his driver's license. “How sure are we on her age?”

Tatiana shrugged. “It's not set in stone, but we know she's too young to remember Aaliyah's first album.”

He nodded. That little tidbit revealed she was a fan of the dearly departed R&B songstress, as was he. He hoped for the opportunity to used the knowledge to his advantage—maybe it would help put a crack in the wall of attitude she surrounded herself with.

"So, we've got one very young female suspect, whose face was obscured," Marcelo mused aloud, his hand wrapped around his chin. "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us."

"I agree." She retracted the pointer, tucked it into her pocket and advanced toward the table where they sat.

John watched those tempting legs, moving ever closer to him, and swallowed hard.
She's a whole lot of woman.
Not wanting to be caught staring, he feigned writing on his note pad.

"There's something else. This girl is a confirmed sublimer," she continued, pressing her palms on the tables' edge and leaning in. "The security guard, as well as the cameras, picked up a visual of the uniform passing through the museum's south wall."

He had to stop himself from licking his lips as the buttery tops of her brown breasts were revealed at the open collar of her blouse.

Junjie blew out a breath. "So she can sublime with anything she's touching, it appears."

"We doubt she's working alone; she and her team won't be an easy catch." She turned those piercing hazel eyes on him. "But nothing worth catching ever is."

Their eyes locked for a moment, and he saw a glimmer of invitation in her gaze. Then she turned away, and went back to her business like demeanor just as quickly.

After that, the meeting continued, but he wasn't really present. Junjie and Marcelo’s voices took on the quality of Charlie Brown's teacher and faded into the background. His sole focus was Tatiana. He saw her glossy lips moving, knew sound was coming out, but nothing she said really registered. He was too busy imagining the wicked, lacy lingerie she could be wearing beneath her business attire.

**

At the end of the briefing, Tatiana gave her team of brutes homework assignments. Her demeanor serious, she announced, "Junjie, you'll be studying the sketches our artist has made of the perpetrator." She handed him a manilla folder. "Marcelo, keep working on that containment spell."

"I'm just about finished with it," the sorcerer responded. "When we catch them, we'll be able to hold them."

Her eyes fell on John, who asked, "What do you need me to do, Lieutenant?"

Something rose in her chest like a curling plume of smoke. John Groves might not be her type, but he appealed to her in ways she couldn't fathom. With a sly smile, she answered. "Your assignment is going to require some extra explanation. I'll need you to stay after the briefing." Perching on the edge of the table, she glanced over her shoulder at the other two men. "You two can go."

Junjie and Marcelo exchanged a look, but said nothing. Within moments they'd gathered their things and made themselves scarce.

Left alone with John, she returned her focus to him.

He leaned back in his chair, tucked his hands behind his head. "So, Lieutenant, what's on the agenda?" His tone said he knew what was coming was likely not work related.

"Oh, plenty," she said, surprised at the come-hither tone her voice had taken on.

A self satisfied smile raised the corner of his lips. "Is that a flirtatious tone I detect in your voice, Lady Tigress?"

"Maybe." She leaned in a bit, deciding she liked their banter.

He changed position, sitting forward in his seat. "I hope this means you've decided to quit running from me."

"A good friend reminded me of something a few days ago."

His bushy left eyebrow edged up with curiosity. "What's that?"

She swung her legs around and scooted her bottom until she was sitting on the edge of the table, directly above his lap. Crossing her legs in a slow, provocative manner, she drawled, "I can handle you."

He groaned low in his throat, obviously affected by her display. "Is that so," he said, his eyes focused on her thighs instead of her face.

She nodded. "Yes. I am, after all, a 'hair pressing, ass kicking, shape-shifting crime fighter'." She recited Ralph's words, thinking they sounded even better coming from her own lips. Ralph had been simply making an observation, but she was making a declaration of her own prowess.

John's eyes locked with hers, and before she knew it he dragged her down onto his lap and kissed her. Strong, well toned arms wound around her as if she were simply a part of his body, returning to the source. His lips were soft, much softer than she'd expected. They pressed into hers with such force and intensity it left her panting. His tongue searched the depths of her mouth through her parted lips until she felt she might melt into a puddle on the floor. Finally, he pulled back and allowed her a breath. The hard evidence of his arousal bored into her lower abdomen.