Feral Passion (10 page)

“Can you be there in five minutes or less? We
want to get ths cleaned up and closed off before people start to
notice and crowd.”

“I. . . Sure, yeah I’ll be there. See you in
a bit,” she choked out, ending the call before he could get a word
in.

For a moment, she felt and heard nothing but
silence. It hummed through her, making it as if she were deaf.

Crash
.

She screamed, jumping back from the bowl that
she had dropped. Her stomach heaved at the site of a cut on her
hand, her hands starting to shake worse than they had before.

Mary sat down slowly beside the broken
glass, head between her hands, struggling to breathe. Figures that
he would get so close to her, she thought in bitter despair.
Figures
that she was only
now
just realizing how close to death
she was.

Once she stopped shaking enough to know that
she would be able to stand properly, she slowly made her way to the
bathroom, fear chilling her. The ridiculous thoughts running
through her head made her feel silly, yet at the same time
paranoid.

Mary was out the door in two minutes, a wrap
around her hand and the mess left there for later. Instead of
driving as she normally would, she walked.

Was it bad of her to think that he would be
hiding in the backseat of her car, or that he had rigged it with a
bomb? Yeah, it was, but she couldn’t help it when the trembling in
her hands came back at just the thought of being in anything big
and mess-up-able.

The morning was bright, green and clean.
Everything that a beautiful day should be—except, this wasn’t
beautiful, was it? The death of another woman, the missing life
that everyone had been helpless to prevent.

A black, window-tinted car was just about to
pass her when it stopped.

And parked.

And then the door open.

A screech building up in her throat,
she stared wide eyed as a man dressed in all black stepped
out.
I’m going to die, he’s going to kill
me and I’m going to die and so are my plants, oh my god, I’m going
to die. . .

The sun behind the head prevented her from
seeing who it actually was, and her eyes watered at the fear she
was starting to experience. Mary started to back away, bones stiff,
when a voice stopped her.

“Ms. Waters?”

There was mild confusion in the mans voice.
Her breath rushed out of her lungs as she realized that it wasn’t
the killer and that it was someone she must know. The voice sounded
familiar enough, she convinced herself, pushing her paranoia
aside.

“Ms. Waters, are you alright?” The body
stepped out of the sun and into the shade, revealing the devilish
face of Jaques.

The fear drained out of her as quickly as it
had come.

“Mr. Jaques?” she asked, squinting. She
prayed that he didn’t notice the quiver to her voice.

“I saw you walking and wondered what
happened. You shouldn’t be out so openly right now, Ms. Waters,” he
admonished, the underlying of irritation in his voice.

“I didn’t. . .feel like driving.” How would
she explain that she was a paranoid freak to him? That’s right, she
wouldn’t.

“Get in the car,” he sighed, opening the
passenger side door for her.

She suddenly realized how awkward this would
look to someone on the outside. A lone woman, walking, and suddenly
a man drives up and forces her into a car.

Mary shook her head. “I’m fine, almost there,
anyways.”

“Are you going to the scene?” he asked,
raising a dark brow at her. This far away, she could barely see the
amazingness of his eyes. She found that. . . she didn’t like
that.

“Well, yes. . .” she said, fidgeting with her
hands.

“Then get into the car, that’s where I’m
headed too.” His voice said “no arguments and listen to Mr.
Macho-man”.

She swallowed then stepped off of the side
walk and into the vicinity of the car—which just happened to be
close enough that she could feel the heat of him. Inspite of the
cool autumn air, she shivered.

“You really don’t have to do—” she
started.

“Just get in the car, Ms. Waters. We were
supposed to be there five minutes ago,” he let her know, tapping
his wrist. Clearly, the man had a thing for staying on time.

Sighing under her breath at the look on the
mans face, she climbed into the car and he shut the door behind
him. Her eyes followed him through the window, hands absently
trailing over the smooth leather.

He walked with stride, with purpose. An
underlying aura of arrogance that suited him completely.

The door openeda nd he put the car in drive,
the silence deafening besides the soft purr of the engine.

“So what do you do?” she asked, and could
have slapped herself.

“What do I do?” He gave her a side
glance.

“Yeah. . . You have. . . a nice car,” she
said lamely, wishing she could bury her head in some sand.

Instead of answering, his brows lowered and
he looked her over. “Have a rough night?”

She shrugged. It wasn’t like she was going to
mention her screaming escapade last night and her chicken call to
her brother. “It was fine.”

His eye brows raised slowly, not believing
one word. “Alright,” he said, and then proceeded to park and get
out. She was just gathering herself and about to open the door when
he opened it for her, face blank besides a small twitch to his
lips.

She ducked her head and fought a blush as he
closed the door.

“Mary! Get over here, and bring Jacques with
you,” Romero shouted to her, several yards away, standing on the
inside of the yellow tape.

Knowing that he would follow her anyways, she
made her way over to the dark man, putting aside the events of the
morning and her unwanted frazzled emotions.

The rays reflected off of the new steel
around them, part of the building done, construction workers and
their advisers milling about, papers being signed on the spot. It
would have been a normal day—it
should
have been one. Instead, it. . .wasn’t. At
all.

Mary sighed, sending up a brief prayer for
patience and calmness.

“Same MO?” she asked, coming up behind
Romero.

He turned to face her. “Pretty much, just
some different signs.”

“How was she found?” Jaques asked, coming up
behind them. Mary tried to stop the shiver at how close he felt to
her back.

“Burnt to ashes, nothing but charred muscle.
Even her parents wouldn’t recognize her in this state. From the
rope and the burnt line around the rafter, we think she was upside
down again—just like the first one,” he said to himself, walking
around the scene slowly.

The ground was exactly how it had looked in
the first picture, the fire circle leaving ashs and burnt ground in
its place.

Mary swallowed deeply, wishing Kevin or her
brother were there. She frowned. “Where’s Ulrich?” she asked,
glancing around for him.

“He said he was going to be a little late,
had to talk to the security people about your house for a bit,”
Romero said, giving her a disappointing look. “Why couldn’t you
have just stayed with him?”

Behind her, she heard a growl. “You
didn’t stay with him? Do you know how
dangerous
that is?” Jacques snarled, hands
clenching at his sides.

Mary would have sighed, shrugged, rolled her
eyes, or something else, but the look in his eyes and the tone of
his voice stopped her. “You act like you know something about the
situation, Jacques,” she commented quietly, considering.

“I’ve been here no less than a week and I
know more about you and this whole town than you ever could. Now,
why didn’t you stay with him?” he asked, trying to calm
himself.

“I’m not going to hide behind my family. I
also won’t be putting them in danger,” she reinforced, crossing her
arms.

“So your going to get
cameras
to protect you?” he asked
incredulously.

“Well. . .”

“Darlin’, cameras can’t hit back,” he growled
low, the southern accent that vibrated between them making the hair
on the back of her neck rise. Her breasts felt tighter, and she was
too sure it wasn’t because of the heat.

“I can though,” she retorted, narrowing her
eyes on him.

“Will it make a difference? You may be
powerful, but you are still a woman,” he said, berating her.

Romero’s gasp joined hers, and then he
started laughing.

“Jacques, you have a death wish!” he hooted,
holding his stomach.

Mary rounded on her brother’s long-time
friend. “And you’ll be next,
after
I finish with him,” she threatened, jabbing a finger at
Jacques.

“The day you beat me is the day I kiss your
ass, Ms. Waters,” he said in her ear, the smirk in his voice
annoying her.

She got in his face, forgetting about who she
was and the people around them. “The day I let you kiss my ass is
the day I drop dead,” she hissed, eyes flashing.

“In pleasure?”

He smirked.

Chapter 17

Raffaele stared into striking green eyes that
he knew could become his permanent solace if only he had the will
to let it happen. Anger, passion hiding in her eyes, and the look
that she would cut him into little pieces if she got the chance did
nothing for his libido. In fact, it might have made it worse.

Amused, he leaned down closer, knowing that
Romero was too busy studying the scene to notice their antics. Her
slim finger came up to stab him in the chest; he only wished that
she would touch him in other places.

"Actually, no," she said, lip moving to pout
mode even though she still sounded angry. A gust of wind blew part
of her long pony tail into her face and she swiped at it
angrily.

He chuckled at her, nudging under her chin.
"Don't act so tough when the wolf is ready to hunt, babe," he
warned, flashing a fang charmingly

Her chin jutted into the air haughtily. "I do
believe that you aren't a wolf or any sort of animal like that, Mr.
Jaques."

Raff shrugged carelessly. "Whatever suits
you, Ms. Waters."

He watched her eyes widen right as a paw of a
hand clamped down on his shoulder. Freezing, all expression
dropping from his face, he turned slowly to meet familiar forest
eyes.

Pissed off
forest eyes.

"I see your paws on my baby sister again, I'm
going to chop them off and give them to her daddy," the big guy
growled, eyes flashing to a threatening black color.

Instead of coming to his aid, the brunette
imp behind him started to laugh and as much as he found the sound
pleasing, he was pretty sure no one would be laughing when the
man's hand was down his own throat.

Raff snarled at the feel of hands on him,
shaking them off and balling his fists. Right when he would have
given a fear-inducing threat, Romero came over to clap the man's
shoulder. "Got here fast enough," he said sarcastically, looking
the man up and down, considering.

Ulrich crossed his arms over his shoulders
defensively. "Macy didn't want to wake up," he said as an excuse,
then practically forgot the man as he walked over to his
sister.

They hugged, Ulrich's more gentler than it
would have been if it had been glass he had been hugging. "How was
the rest of your night?" Raff heard him ask, which piked his
curiosity.

He stared over the man's boulder shoulders at
Mary, noting the bags and wary glances around her. Not as she had
been yesterday, she was more… emotional, more prone to jump to
conclusions; which was exactly what she had done when he had gotten
out of the car.

Raff had noticed the scared look in her eye,
the waver in her voice, the hesitancy in her movements. He had also
noticed the damned wrap around her hand.

"What happened to your hand?" Ulrich asked
sharply, bringing the appendage up for his inspection.

She looked uneasy. "I dropped something this
morning, no big deal."

Ulrich's eyes narrowed on the small
woman—well, at least small for them. Compared to a human female,
she was taller, close to the average height of a man instead of a
woman.

Not that that was a bad thing, he mused
silently, eyes trailing down her body. Her long legs were encased
in black slacks, a trim white over-coat hugging her breasts and
waist. Maybe on the big side of breasts, the outfit looked splendid
on her, with her hair pulled back into a curly pony tail, barely
any make-up on that he could see.

Ulrich sighed. "We'll talk about this later.
I have the men at your house setting up the cameras right now, so
when you get back there should be some things that you'll need to
do and they said that they're willing to wait. I need to talk to
Romero for a bit about this, then call my secretary and have her
print out some forms…" he trailed off when he saw Raffaele watching
them.

The man's eye twitched and he looked at Mary.
"You don't talk to him."

With that, he walked off, leaving a confused
Mary and an amused Raffaele.

“That’s my brother,” she said, coming up to
him and ignoring the man’s order.

“I figured that,” he said darkly, staring
after the man with murder in his eyes.

Mary fidgeted with her hands, kicking the
dirt. “Think Imming wants to talk to us about something,” she said,
gesturing to a man with a camera who was taking snapshots of the
scene.

He nodded, motioning for her to walk.

“Hi, Mary,” he said, giving a sheepish
smile.

She smiled back briefly. “Find anything of
interest?” she asked, walking around him and examining the places
that he was taking pictures of.