Into the Darkness (4 page)

you soon,” he murmured.

Feeling like flotsam swept along on a roiling tide, Natalie resisted Rene’s hold for a moment and stared back into

her apartment. Chessa and Simon stood toe-to-toe, their

words hushed but heated by the looks of their rapid-fire

conversation.

“Don’t stop, now,” Rene said, pulling her down the hallway. “I’m takin’ you somewhere safe.”

“I don’t understand. Everyone else seems to know what’s

happening, but I feel like Alice falling down the rabbit hole.”

“C
hère,
you’ve just had a taste of my life working with

Chessa Tomas,” he said, his lips quirking into a small smile.

“She may seem like a ravin’ bitch at the moment, but she has

her reasons. She’ll fill us in later.”

“You trust her that much?”

“With my life.”

They exited the apartment building onto the sidewalk,

which was illuminated by a single streetlamp, the light dulled

to a pale halo by the heavy, moist air. Shadows encircled them.

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25

To Natalie’s already fried nerves, every darkened corner hid

menace—all directed toward her.

Natalie grew still. A sound, like rushing wind carrying

dozens of whispers, pricked her ears. “Someone’s here.”

Rene stiffened, and his gaze searched the darkness. “I

don’t see anythin’, but I’ll trust your instinct.” His hand

moved down her arm to grasp hers. “Ready to run for it?” he

whispered.

She grabbed his hand and nodded.

“Now!”

They ran, Rene taking the lead, pulling her along. Natalie’s

slides hampered her, so she kicked them off and ran barefoot

for his car, parked along the curb further down the street.

The wind whipped closer, bringing the smell of rotten

eggs—the same smell she’d detected when the birds attacked.

“Rene!”

“I know!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Run faster!”

The whispers grew louder, accompanied by a buzzing that

sounded like a million angry bees.

As they neared the car, Rene dropped her hand and aimed

his remote to unlock the vehicle. They dove inside and

slammed shut the doors.

Natalie screamed as a cloud of large winged bugs smacked

against the car.

Rene fired the ignition and pulled away, his wiper blades

smearing green carcasses from the windshield. After a few

moments, they left behind the angry cloud of bugs. Rene

blew out a deep breath and cast a quick glance her way. “That

don’t happen every day. You okay?”

Shaken, Natalie felt a little giddy after the wild run. She

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gulped air into her burning lungs and reached for her seat

belt. “I don’t know. How am I supposed to feel? Right now, I’d

love a big can of insect repellant.”

He snorted and glanced into his rearview mirror. “Pigeons,

locusts? What’s next? Your life’s a helluva lot more excitin’

than mine.”

The odd attacks and the murders of her parents—on the

surface they might not seem related, but her gut told her

they were. She hadn’t the knowledge to draw the necessary

connections. But who would?

Natalie leaned back against the seat and shut her eyes,

weary now the danger had passed. The smell of leather,

mixed with a hint of Rene’s spicy aftershave, permeated the

black sporty sedan. The seats were buttery soft. The engine

growled, low and controlled. The man liked his comforts and

power at his fingertips.

The car was like him, muscled and sexy, yet understated—

and comfortable. He made her feel safe. She almost wished

she could find something about him she didn’t like so their

inevitable parting wouldn’t be so hard. Although they’d only

met a couple of hours ago, she felt a connection—and an exhilarating attraction.

The car slowed to turn a corner, and she opened her eyes.

Rene’s face was taut, his glance constantly darting to his

mirrors.

She straightened in her seat. “Do you think we’re being

followed?”

“No. I’m sure we’re not.” He aimed a tight smile her way.

“I didn’t take a direct route home, and I haven’t spotted a

tail.”

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27

“We’re going to your place? Not some safe house?” Pleasure filled her, leaving her a little breathless.

“My house is safe.”

He was taking her to his home. They’d be alone.

Those unexpected sensual feelings returned. Her nipples

beaded. Desire curled inside her belly.

Rene’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, a muscle

flexed at the side of his jaw. His gaze didn’t stray her way

again.

The tension in the vehicle was thick—fragrant with unspoken yearnings. Or so, Natalie hoped.

They drove back into the French Quarter and turned into

a narrow alley that ran behind a row of tall narrow houses

with iron gates, postage stamp-size backyards and single-car

garages. He hit a button in the roof of the car, and one door

slid up.

After he pulled inside and the garage door lowered, he

reached into the back seat for her bag. “Home sweet home,”

he muttered, still not meeting her eyes.

Natalie followed him through a door that led into a mudroom, halting behind him as he paused to punch in the code to

reactivate the security system. Then she trailed him through

the kitchen and into a living room.

Her gaze took in the large fan suspended from a high ceiling

and tall windows with forest green curtains. The walls were

pale beige, the furniture dark and heavy. Finally, she turned

to find him staring.

A muscle in his square jaw flexed, and his back stiffened. “I’ll

put your things in my bedroom. I converted the other bedroom

to an office, so I’m taking the couch. Try to get some sleep.”

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He wanted to put some space between them.

Feeling a little deflated, Natalie nodded. “I’d like to

shower.”

Rene led the way up a narrow staircase and down a hallway

that ended in a door that opened to a balcony. His bedroom

was to the right and sparsely furnished. The bed loomed large

with a navy duvet and lots of pillows in the same dark blue

and wine.

He set the case on the mattress and pointed to a closed

door. “Bathroom’s through there.” He turned to leave and

then shook his head. “Damn. I’m sorry. I never asked if you

were hungry or wanted somethin’ to drink.”

Her stomach was in knots. She was hungry all right, but

not for food. She shook her head in denial.

“Anyway, if you’re hungry afterward, I’ll scare up somethin’ from the kitchen.”

She found it unflattering how quickly he fled the room.

Sighing, Natalie walked to the French doors and pulled

aside the curtain. The doors opened onto a long balcony that

overlooked a small courtyard paved with a pale stone which

reflected the lamplight from the empty street beyond.

Although the exterior echoed the shabby gentility of a

bygone era, she knew the old antebellum-era house had to

be a stretch on a detective’s salary. There was more to Rene

Broussard than met the eye.

She let the curtain fall back and padded across the beige

carpet to the bed and opened her case. The mystery surrounding the man was one she wasn’t destined to discover.

And the quest that had brought her back to New Orleans had

to go on hold for now.

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Pulling out her nightgown and toiletries, she focused on

mysteries more imperative than her late-blooming libido and

the search for her birth mother—like why she’d suddenly

become bug and bird bait, how Rene’s partner had known

about the changes occurring to her body, and why Chessa and

Simon had been arguing.

Rene closed his cell phone with a snap. Chessa hadn’t picked

up. Whatever “arrangements” she was busy making were

ones she didn’t want to communicate, and that was just fine

with him. The strange occurrences of the past few hours fit

squarely in Chessa’s dark realm. They simply underscored

the fact he was better off keeping the hell away from Natalie

Lambert.

Lying on the sofa in the living room, he listened to the

creaks of the house settling after the heat of the day. The overhead fan stirred the air, but did little to cool his agitation.

Although he’d stripped off his jacket and shirt and removed his shoes, he still couldn’t get comfortable enough to

let his mind wander away from the blonde in his bedroom.

Chessa had been right about those “fuck-me pheromones”

the woman oozed. Why else would he be hard as a rock hours

after he’d touched her soft skin?

Distance. Miles of it. That’s what he needed. As long as he

was down here and she was up there, he’d be fine.

Just a few more hours and he could hand her over to Chessa.

However much the woman in his bedroom intrigued him,

he’d seen enough in his time to know she was trouble—the

kind he was better off leaving to his partner and her kind to

handle.

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Chessa had known straightaway something was up, and

her instincts were always dead-on.

Although they’d been partners for over four years, Rene

wouldn’t say he knew her. While he didn’t have a bead on
who

the real Chessa Tomas was because of her spiny public demeanor and secretive private life, he knew
what
she was.

If the fact they were the only detectives assigned permanent

night shift hadn’t clued him in, the first time he’d seen her take

down a perp the size of a Saint’s linebacker clinched it.

Having a vampire for a partner did have its perks. Street

punks tended to squeal like piglets as soon as Chessa

flashed her fangs. And they had a certain autonomy within

the department to take on “special” cases—like Natalie

Lambert’s.

Only Chessa wasn’t usually so uncommunicative concerning the nature of an investigation.

When the call had come from the Memphis PD that Natalie had left the area, and they suspected she would return

to familiar territory, the details of the case hadn’t rung any

bells with Rene. However, Chessa had immediately noted

the similarities with this crime and several in the “cold case”

files. Crimes dating back over forty years. Young women,

twenty-two to twenty-five years old, and everyone living

with them—all savaged and drained of blood.

So the murderer was either pulling Social Security or not

human.

Since he’d worked “otherkin” cases with Chessa before, her

current reticence bothered him. Something bigger and probably closer to the real Chessa was at stake.

She’d said she wasn’t certain what Natalie was—but he’d

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31

sensed hesitation in her answer. Certainly, all signs indicated

something
extra
-natural was going on here.

Chessa had nailed it when she’d said the girl was a temptation he’d find hard to resist—because he’d thought of little

else other than sinking inside her moist depths since the moment he’d swept her off the bench in the park. He’d been in a

constant state of arousal since he’d felt the first brush of her

skin and breathed in her fresh lemon and apple scent. And

that wasn’t like him—he wasn’t a pimple-faced kid. He could

find plenty of sexual partners to take care of any urges he

found too compelling.

He preferred to keep his personal life and his work separate. Never had he been tempted to break that rule. Not

until today. Now, he felt like a silken tether bound him to the

woman standing naked in his shower at this very moment.

So for tonight, he’d take Chessa’s advice to heart and hunker down—keep his distance from the temptation just up the

stairs.

Intending only to adjust himself for comfort, his hand

smoothed down his naked belly to grasp his rigid cock

through his blue jeans. Instead, he squeezed and imagined

what it would feel like to rut against the soft juncture of her

thighs. He remembered the gentle grind of her ass as she’d

shifted within his arms in the back of the squad car.

“
Merde!
” He jackknifed to a sitting position, wincing at the

pinch of rough cloth against his sex.

The welcome sting reminded him to trust Chessa had Natalie’s best interests at heart—as well as his own. When his

partner arrived, he was backing far away, because he’d be a

goner if he came within ten feet of the sexy blonde upstairs.

chapter

3

atalie couldn’t sleep.

N Not because she was afraid. For the first

time in weeks, her stalker was the least of her

worries.

Instead, her present danger lay in her own body’s

betrayal.

Heat simmered beneath the surface of her skin—

a flush of warmth that spread across her chest and

belly. The air around her felt close and heavy despite the fan circling above the bed.

Her heart beat too quickly. Her breasts grew

heavy. Her nipples peaked against the thin silk of

her nightgown. Then blood rushed to the juncture

of her thighs, plumping her slick folds.

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