Eve of Darkness (20 page)

Home. With Eve. His mouth quirked with morbid humor. The part of him that wasn’t homicidal was deeply enamored with that dream.

He nodded. When the traffic light changed, he altered his direction and headed for Eve’s place. This time, he didn’t need to wait for a resident to follow into the parking garage. Eve typed in the code and he rolled into the spot adjacent to the one that held her car. His and hers. The act of taking the place reserved for the significant other in her life affected him in an unexpected way—he grew hard. Dismounting from the bike became a difficult task, but he managed.

The knowledge that their time together was temporary . . . the threats against her . . . the fear that he might not be enough to save her . . . the pheromones her mark exuded . . . His body responded with a primitive desire to claim what was his. When she pulled the helmet off her head and shook out her hair, it was like waving a cape before a raging bull. He struggled against the sudden ferocious need to pin her to the wall and ride her to the finish. He backed away, putting distance between them.

She glanced at him and stilled. He watched the heat he felt spread to her, igniting her dark eyes with a sexual hunger that might match his. This wasn’t the timid, inexperienced girl he had loved ten years ago. That girl had quivered when he touched her and cried when he kissed her. The woman who eyed him now made
him
quiver.

Eve locked the strap of her helmet to the backrest loop on his bike and muttered, “Catch me.”

That was the only warning he got before she launched herself at him. As slight as she was, the mark gave her force and velocity. He stumbled back at the impact, his keys and helmet crashing to the cement floor. Her legs circled his hips, her arms wrapped around his neck. Her mouth met his without finesse, her soft lips slanting across his with a desperation that stole both his breath and his wits.

She tightened her thighs, levering up, forcing his neck back so that she hovered over him. Her position of dominance rocked him so hard there was no way they were going to make it upstairs before he got inside her. The scent of her lust was heady, sweeping through his senses and across his skin. There was no other fragrance in the world like it, the sensual fragrance of cherries, sweet and ripe. The mark intensified the smell, made it more luxurious, like whipped cream on top.

He gripped her ass with one hand and fisted the other into the thick silk of her hair. As Eve writhed over him, he tore his mouth away, gasping. In response, her fingers tangled in his locks and commanded his attention. His gaze was snared by hers. She was as hot for it as he was, but the determined glint in her eyes told him she wasn’t yet completely lost to lust.

Alec set his mind to making her that way. He released her hair and cupped her breast, kneading the full weight, groaning in pleasure as her nipple hardened between the clasp of his fingertips.

Eve leaned closer, their harsh breaths mingling, her tresses shielding their faces in an ebony curtain. “Someone’s watching us, right?” she whispered. “And listening?”

“What?” He urged her lower, notching the heated juncture between her thighs against his aching cock. He stroked her along his length. She took over, gyrating fluidly against him, making him shudder.

“My condo,” she persisted, her eyes feverishly bright. “The common areas. Cameras. Microphones. There is no privacy anywhere, am I right? Gadara is watching and listening.”

Reality pierced through the haze of his desire. “Probably.” He remembered that Raguel was trustee of the community and growled, “Most likely. Yes.”

“We can’t talk freely.”

“Who wants to talk?”

The clearing of a throat behind them jerked them both to an awareness of how public their ardor was. Their heads turned in unison to find Mrs. Basso standing by the mailboxes. She was facing away from them, awkwardly struggling with the lock to her box, but it was obvious she’d seen more than any of them wanted her to see.

“Put me down,” Eve hissed.

Alec set her on her feet. “If the kiss didn’t shock Mrs. Basso, my raging hard-on might do it.”

Eve smacked him. “Behave.”

“
You
attacked
me
, angel.”

She winked. “Made you smile.”

He stared at her a moment, lost in a déjà vu moment from a decade before. He laughed softly.

“I’m losing my touch,” he drawled, adjusting himself in an unsuccessful bid for comfort. “You were thinking about Gadara while making out with me.”

“I heard the camera move.”

Alec paused at that. He wasn’t too surprised that he hadn’t heard anything. Disgruntled, yes, but not surprised. For the first time in his life, he’d been given something he wanted and he was enjoying her to the fullest. It was Eve’s precise hearing that made the statement arresting. “You heard the camera move,” he repeated.

Her smile was wicked. “I guess we didn’t quite reach the brain cell frying point.”

“Next time,” he promised, bending down to collect his helmet and keys. “You’re a smart cookie, angel. Turns me on.”

“What if I didn’t have a fondness for James Bond and Jason Bourne? I’d be giving Pamela Anderson a run for the money in the sex tape department.”

He took the hit. It stung, but it was true. “I’ve never mentored before. I’m learning as I go.”

“Great.”

“I’m a quick study.” He glanced toward the lobby. Mrs. Basso was gone.

“You better be.” Sighing, she moved to the trunk of her car and opened it, retrieving her mail from earlier. “Or else we’re a sorry-assed pair.”

Alec grinned. There’d be no hysterics or drama from Eve. Bless her.

“Let’s go. We have a lot of work to do.” She headed toward the elevator with a determined stride. “And I have to think of something to say to my neighbor. How embarrassing is that?”

“Maybe she’ll act like nothing happened.” He followed, studying the way she moved and cataloging the self-defense techniques she might excel at. She had long, lithe legs and a hint of defined biceps. He thought kick-boxing might be good for a start.

“Ugh. I hate when people do that,” she complained. “I’d rather just get it out in the open and clear the air.”

Hard-charging,
he thought fondly. That was his angel.

A soft mechanical whirring followed them, the sound of surveillance cameras keeping them doggedly in sight.

 
“Mom?” Eve called out as she pushed the door open.

“She’s not here,” her mother called back.

Relief filled her. She smiled at Alec, who just shook his head. As he set his helmet and keys on the console by the door, there was a sparkle of amusement in his eyes, but nothing could hide the set of his shoulders. They seemed weighted by the world.

Miyoko appeared from the hallway. Her feet were encased in Hello Kitty house slippers, her hair was in pigtails, and her arms were filled with freshly washed laundry. She looked like a teenager. “Are you hungry?”

Eve’s stomach growled its assent. “Lately, I’m always hungry.”

“Maybe you’re pregnant.”

“Mom!” Her protest was weak, her startled gaze moving to Alec. She’d missed taking her birth control pills for a week while she acclimated to the mark, and they’d burned up the sheets for hours . . .

Alec’s jaw clenched. He gave a curt shake of his head. But how could he be sure?

It wasn’t a question she could ask now.

“Unless you’re a nun or sterile,” her mother said, “it’s possible.”

Eve went to the kitchen. Decades of work as a registered nurse had made Miyoko brutally blunt when it came to discussing health matters. Setting her mail on the counter, Eve grabbed a soda from the fridge and wished a shot of rum would be worth the effort of pouring. Then she thought of babies and the effect of alcohol on them. She returned the soda to the fridge and grabbed a single-serving orange juice instead.

“Don’t leave those letters there,” her mother said, dropping the laundry on the couch before joining Eve in the kitchen.

“It’s my house, Mom,” Eve retorted, twisting the cap open and drinking deeply.

“Who cleans it?”

“Who asked you to? I keep my house clean, and I’m an adult. Don’t act like I can’t survive without you.”

Miyoko’s face turned into a mask. “I know you don’t need me. You never have.”

Alec walked into the kitchen. “How about I make some sandwiches?” he offered.

“I made
onigiri
,” her mother said tightly.

“Wonderful.” Alec set his hand on the curve of Eve’s waist. His voice was low and even in an attempt to soothe ruffled feathers. “I love
onigiri
.”

So did Eve, which is probably why her mother had made the little rice “balls” to begin with. Steamed rice flavored with various sprinkled seasonings called
furikake
were shaped into triangular patties. Eve had grown up on them, and they’d always been a relished treat.

Closing her eyes, Eve exhaled slowly. She hated feeling defensive around her mother. After all these years, she should be able to brush off the occasional pointing out of her shortcomings, but her mother had always been able to trigger volatile responses in her. One moment condescending and critical, the next cheerful and praising. Eve knew their chafing was due partly to culture clash. Her mother had come to the States in her midtwenties and she returned to Japan for annual visits. While she was a naturalized American citizen now, Miyoko was still a Japanese woman at her core.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Eve said, setting her drink down and leaning heavily into the counter. Not for the first time, she made a small wish for a smoother relationship with her own children when she had them. “I’m having a really bad day. I appreciate everything you do.”

Her mother stood there for the length of several heartbeats, her small frame tense with indignation and hurt. “Does your crabby mood have something to do with your new job?”

“How did you know about that?” Eve was superstitious—she didn’t like to share anything good that wasn’t a sure thing.

“I’m your mother. I know things.”

Eve groaned inwardly.

“Someone stopped by while we were gone?” Alec asked, reaching into the container on the counter and pulling out a rice cake liberally sprinkled with beefsteak
furikake
. He handed it to Eve, then picked out another wrapped in seasoned
nori
—seaweed—for himself.

“Yes. Two young men. They left a briefcase and a box for you.”

Straightening, Eve asked, “Where is it?”

“I put it in your office.”

“Did they say anything?”

“They were very nice.” Miyoko managed a smile. “I made some coffee, and they talked a little about Mr. Gadara’s accomplishments. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity for you.”

Eve shivered at the thought of Gadara’s men around her mother, charming and impressing her. Winning her over. Snakes in the grass.

“So it that why you’re grumpy?” her mother repeated. “Changing jobs is one of the most stressful events a person can go through. You need to take more vitamin B.”

“That’s part of it.” All of it. She glanced at Alec, who eyed her orange juice with odd intensity.

“You didn’t tell me you were thinking about quitting.” Miyoko’s tone was peeved.

“I didn’t want to jinx it. Working for Gadara Enterprises is a monster leap, and I wasn’t sure I would make it. Besides, I only had an interview.”

“And it turned into an offer?” Her mother wiped the spotless counter with a dishtowel. “You shouldn’t be so surprised. You’re beautiful and smart. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Eve’s irritation fled completely. “Thank you.”

Miyoko shrugged. “It’s the truth. Is he Jewish? Or Middle Eastern?”

“Gadara? He’s African-American. Why?”

“His name. It’s in the Bible.”

“It is?” She glanced at Alec, who was reaching for another
onigiri
.

“Gadara is the place where Christ turned demons into swine,” he explained before taking a bite.

“Did he pick that himself?”

“Who picks their own name?” Miyoko shook her head. “Aside from celebrities. Anyway, I’m going to finish the laundry and go home.”

“Is Dad coming back today?”

“Tomorrow, but there are things I have to do.”

Eve sighed, feeling terrible for having hurt her mother’s feelings. “I wish you would stay.”

“You have a guest. You don’t need me.”

“I don’t have to need you to want you around, Mom.”

“Not today.” Miyoko rounded the island the opposite way and returned to the living room. She sat on the couch and folded laundry.

Alec rubbed between Eve’s shoulder blades. “You okay?”

“No. My life sucks.”

“I can help you forget about it for a while,” he purred softly.

She pivoted and faced him head on. Her mouth opened, then shut again. The kitchen wasn’t the place to talk about sex and the inevitable ramifications of it. Her hand fisted in his shirt and she tugged him to her office.

“I’m sterile,” he said curtly before she could speak.