Fangs for Nothing (8 page)

“That’s exactly what I meant. To apologize.”

“You mean for the unsolicited kiss?”

“Exactly.”

She gave him a dubious look. “You wanted it to be more than drinks. Admit it.”

“No,” he said. “Because that isn’t true.”

She made another face, one that hinted at dimples at either side of her mouth and made her lips look utterly kissable. His dick hardened more and poked out in front of him like Pinocchio’s nose when telling a lie.

He was telling a lie, too, and they both knew it.

But instead of continuing this conversation, which just appeared to be getting him in more and more trouble, he said, “I need to find some pants.”

To his relief, Josie Lynn let him walk away with as much dignity as his assless chaps would afford him.

But after walking a few feet, he realized he didn’t know where he was going exactly. Where the hell would he find pants—or any clothing—in this room? Now, if he wanted a ginormous purple dildo or a . . .

He tilted his head to study one of the items hanging on the wall. Was that a mace?

Yeah, he could find any item of sexual torture, but he was pretty sure a pair of size 34 Levi’s was not happening.

He glanced back to Josie Lynn, who stood in the same place, her arms curled around herself again as if she was cold.

Or protecting herself.

He moved back toward her, debating what he could say to her to help. She had that worried, almost defeated expression again, and despite her obvious dislike of him, he felt the need to comfort her. Of course that was all he’d been trying to do before their conversation went badly just moments earlier.

He paused, trying to think of the right thing to say, when he heard her say to herself, “This was not how this job was supposed to go. How the hell am I going to get the money now?”

Drake frowned. This job? The money? What was she talking about? Then a memory, although somewhat hazy, came back to him. One of the last he remembered from last night. Josie Lynn taking money. Taking money for what?

Could Josie Lynn be involved in whatever had happened to cause their memory loss? And now that he thought about it, where was all their stuff? His wallet was gone. His cell phone. Hell, even his pants. Maybe they hadn’t been just misplaced during a night of debauchery. And he imagined everyone else’s stuff was gone, too. Had this been a robbery of some sort? And was Josie Lynn somehow involved?

If she was, the plan had clearly backfired, at least for her. But she was involved in something. He knew he’d seen her take money and let some people in the back door. He thought about the people he’d seen, trying to remember what they looked like.

They’d looked like . . . Cher. Multiple Chers.

He frowned. Maybe the drug had already started to take effect at that point. Chers. That couldn’t be right.

He looked at Josie Lynn, who was again chewing at her lower lip and looking very, very anxious. Whether his memory of Cher en masse was accurate or not, one thing was for certain; he wasn’t letting Cupcake out of his sight until he got the truth.

* * *

JOSIE LYNN STARED
at the motionless body of the bride, Zelda.

Well, there was no denying this bride would remember her wedding night. Or if she was like the rest of them, remember that she didn’t remember her wedding night. Josie Lynn was also pretty sure she wasn’t going to be pleased to find her wedding dress, her gifts, and her groom for God’s sake, all missing. This was a nightmare.

Josie Lynn wondered if all of her catering supplies were gone, too. Her cookie tins and serving platters. Her mixing bowls and serving spoons. Everything could very well be gone, and she had no means to replace it. She didn’t see how she could recover from another major financial hit. If those items were all gone—stolen or whatever happened to them—she didn’t think she could salvage her catering career. If she could anyway. It was safe to say the bride and groom probably weren’t going to have anything positive to say about their wedding reception, period.

So much for rave reviews.

She immediately felt selfish. Everyone had lost things last night. And a person was missing. That was far more serious than her nonstick pots and pans.

She curled her arms tighter around herself. And there was another niggling thought that wouldn’t leave her mind. What if she was somehow inadvertently involved? Everything had gone crazy after she let those transvestites into the reception. But how could they be involved in the drugging? After all, they’d just entered the party moments before Josie Lynn had started to feel so funny.

It didn’t make sense.

But Josie Lynn didn’t have time to ponder other explanations, because her thoughts were interrupted by the other guy, Johnny, she thought she heard his name was, shouting to the pirate.

“Hey Drake, there’s an alligator in the hallway, so be careful.”

An alligator? In the hallway? This had to be a joke, right?

She looked over at the pirate—Drake, who was regarding her rather than reacting to what his friend had said. Looking at her? Rather than reacting to a deadly reptile on the loose? She didn’t think that could be a good sign.

He walked back over to her, and he obviously hadn’t found anything to use as pants or a diaper or even a loincloth. But she must have been growing accustomed to his state of undress, because she was definitely more concerned about the expression on his face than his wiener hanging out.

“Did they say alligator?” she said once he got closer.

He nodded.

She looked toward the other couple just as they called out they were leaving.

Josie Lynn gave Drake a startled look. “They are going into the hallway with the alligator? Do you think that’s a wise idea?”

“They’ll be fine,” he said, almost as if he were distracted. But still, there was an alligator out there. She’d grown up on the bayou and knew gators were no joke. And frankly, that French woman didn’t look like she could hold her own with a kitten, much less a vicious beast with a gazillion teeth and a jaw like a steel trap.

“I’m not sure they should go out there,” she said, and again he repeated that they would be fine.

She watched the door close behind the couple, feeling certain she would soon be hearing shrieks of terror and pain.

“Who were those people you let in the back door at the reception?”

Josie Lynn’s stomach dropped and all thoughts of impending gator death vanished. Slowly she looked back to Drake. He’d seen her take the money. Great, he thought she was involved. Hell, she thought she might be involved, too, but purely by accident.

“They were a group of transvestites who said they were friends of the bride.”

“All dressed like Cher, right?”

Josie Lynn nodded, and he looked almost relieved, but that expression quickly faded as his dark eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“You didn’t think it was weird a group of trannies wanted to come in through the back door?”

“Yes I did, but they said they wanted to surprise the bride, and given what the rest of the wedding guests looked like”—she gestured to the shirt she now wore, his shirt—“I didn’t think it was terribly weird that transvestites all dressed like Cher would be her friends.”

He didn’t argue that, but he did bring up the very thing that had troubled her for the moment it happened.

“So why did they give you money?”

She had wondered that, too. Would they have done that if they were just friends? There was something rather desperate about that action. And she’d been rather desperate to take the money.

“They just offered it to me as—a way of thanks, I guess.”

“Or as a payoff.”

“No,” she said shaking her head, even though she wasn’t sure that wasn’t what it was.

“And we’ve already figured out the one thing we have in common is the punch. And who made the punch?” He gave her a pointed look.

Josie Lynn gaped at him. Now that she knew she’d had no part in. “I did not tamper with the punch.”

“Well, you’re going to say that, aren’t you?”

“But I didn’t. That punch was right out in the open on the buffet table. Anyone could have laced it. Besides I drank some, too. Why would I drug myself?”

“It’s a pretty good alibi,” he said, eyeing her even more distrustfully. “If you are drugged-out and with us, then your band of Chers can do the dirty work and split the money with you at a later date.”

“That isn’t what’s going on. My stuff is missing, too. Including the money they gave me for letting them in.” She frantically gestured to the fact that all she wore was his shirt. She had nothing, just like everyone else. Except—

“That Frenchwoman with your friend. Who is she? And why is she the only one who has a purse? Or a cell phone? Maybe she’s somehow involved.”

He seemed to consider her suggestion, then shrugged as if he didn’t really care and he’d already made up his mind that Josie Lynn was the culprit.

“The way I see it, there is only one solid lead, and that’s to find the Chers and find out what they did with all the stuff you guys stole.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” she insisted more frantically. He had to believe her. His accusation was a whole lot worse than just losing her catering company. If he told his friends about her taking the money and his theory that she was involved, who were they going to believe? Even she could admit that she looked like a likely suspect.

“I want to help you find them,” she said, knowing she had to locate these guys—gals—to clear her own name.

“Oh, I have no intention of letting you out of my sight,” he informed her. “A woman who is willing to drug herself, even sleep with one of her victims—”

“One of
my
victims!” she exclaimed. He could not be serious. “You are not one of my victims. If anything, I was your victim. You forced yourself on me at the reception. You grabbed me and kissed me.”

“I seem to recall you grabbing me and kissing me, too,” he pointed out.

“One of my many stupid mistakes last night,” she muttered.

“Like getting involved with underworld Chers, who got you to do their dirty work, then left you out to dry?”

She clenched her teeth and groaned. There was no point defending herself to his man. He’d clearly already made up his mind about her, and the only way to defend herself was to find the Chers and find out the truth.

Which meant staying with this jerk. Great. And she likely did have sex with him last night. This was just great.

Behind them she heard the door open. She turned, expecting to see the handcuffed couple darting back into the room, but instead two women sauntered in looking so calm that Josie Lynn wondered if the alligator had somehow gotten out of the hallway and was now lying in wait somewhere else.

One of the women was tall and svelte with red hair and pale skin, while the other was petite and almost waifish with blond hair and a wide smile. They were both stunning and utterly unfazed by the scene before them.

“Drake, how unusual to see you with your pants down,” the blonde said with a laugh.

Drake gave her a look, although Josie Lynn could see fondness in the grimace. “Isn’t that part of the fun of living with me, Katie?”

This Katie lived with him? Josie Lynn suddenly felt all the more self-conscious to be standing there in nothing but his shirt. Although the blonde didn’t look upset. Maybe they were truly roommates. Maybe they had an open relationship. But no maybe about it, Josie Lynn did not like the sharp pang of jealousy that had shot through her when he’d said they lived together.

Why the hell would she be jealous—or feel anything for that matter—for this jerk? He was accusing her of being a thief, for God’s sake.

The redhead stepped closer to him and tilted her head, inspecting his look, then said, “It’s not really ‘with your pants down.’ They don’t seem to be intact. What
are
you wearing?”

“They are chaps, Stella,” Drake said with the odd air of haughty dignity that he seemed to acquire every so often. “I would think being married to a cowboy, you’d be quite familiar with them.”

Stella laughed. “Well he never wears them like that, that’s for sure.”

“See what you’re missing,” Drake stated. Clearly done with the women’s teasing, he gestured to the prone bride. “Zelda is over there. She’s breathing, but I do think she should be brought to the hospital.”

Josie Lynn wondered how he knew she was breathing. As far as she’d seen, he hadn’t gotten anywhere near her.

“Hi,” the blonde said, suddenly appearing at Josie Lynn’s side with her hand extended. “I’m Katie Cortez. I live with Drake. I’m married to one of his best friends.”

Josie Lynn ignored the wave of relief that washed over her as unexpectedly as the jealousy had.

You just don’t want to have had a potential one-night stand with a man who was involved with another woman,
she assured herself, not quite believing the reasoning even as she thought it.

She accepted the blonde’s hand. Her fingers were small and cool.

“And they are also in the band together. Maybe you’ve met my husband. Cort?”

Josie Lynn shook her head. It was on the tip of her tongue to say she didn’t even know Drake was in a band, but she didn’t want to reveal to this clearly nice woman that she was in a sex dungeon with a man she didn’t really know. And again, wearing nothing but his shirt.

“Okay,” Stella said, drawing everyone’s attention to her. For which Josie Lynn was very grateful. “I know where Zelda and Saxon’s room is—”

“I’m not even going to ask why you know that,” Drake said wryly.

“Because I’ve come over to feed Waldo, you perv,” Stella said.

“Waldo?” he asked.

“The alligator.”

“You knew about the alligator?” he asked, surprised.

“Yeah, it was Saxon’s one-year anniversary gift to Zelda. Although he’s normally not hanging out in the hallway,” Stella said. “Anyway, their room is two doors down on the right. Drake, go get Zelda some clothes. And something for yourself while you’re at it.”

“Like Saxon’s clothes will fit me,” he said.

“But Zelda’s probably will,” Katie pointed out.

Josie Lynn actually smiled slightly at the horrified expression on Drake’s face. God, this was all so weird.