Kissing Sin (28 page)

He shook his head. “Wouldn’t know. The general doesn’t always get involved with the charities. He’s on base a lot, apparently.”

“With a wife that looks like that, who can blame him?” I muttered.

Kellen grinned. “That’s why a man should pick his woman carefully. He has to live with his choice for the rest of his life.”

“Humans don’t.”

“Humans don’t do a lot of things—which is why I’m glad I was born a wolf.”

I smiled. “So how come you’re here tonight?”

He shrugged. “It’s my building, and my dad is one of the sponsors. I’m here representing both parties.”

“Not at the moment, you’re not.”

He placed an arm over my shoulder, and slid me closer. “At the moment, the only thing I’m representing is self-interest.”

“Well, I’m here on work’s time, and I really should be going back downstairs.” But I didn’t get up, didn’t pull away. It felt too good being close to him.

“You’ve only been gone half an hour or so. No one important will have missed you yet.”

Quinn would have—but I had a feeling that was who Kellen meant when he said “no one important.”

His lips met mine and thought went south, not returning until a good hour later. By the time I did make it back down to the main ballroom, meals were being served. Energy caressed my mind, a tingling warmth that curled through my soul. Quinn, wanting me to open the psychic door and talk to him.

Which was not something I wanted to risk given what I’d just been doing. I didn’t need the hassle he’d undoubtedly throw my way. So I ignored him and made my way back to our table, sitting down and picking up the napkin like nothing at all had happened.

“Where have you been?” His voice was short. Annoyed.

“Out scouting around.”

“Scouting where?”

“Oh, here and there.” I resisted the urge to say it was none of his business and took a sip of wine. “What do you know about Mrs. Hunt?”

He glanced around. “We cannot have this conversation here.” His voice was little more than a stroke of sound. “There’s too many ears.”

“So why not just touch their minds and tell them all to ignore us?”

“The room is full of psychic-deadeners, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

I hadn’t, but then, I rarely used my telepathic skills so there was nothing unusual in that. “Since when have psychic-deadeners worried you?”

“They don’t, but they do stop you from chatting back.”

Which I would have thought he’d actually enjoy. Still, we
did
need to talk about Mrs. Hunt, so we’d have to do so with the very link Quinn had tried to use moments ago. While the deadeners meant normal telepathic channels wouldn’t work, the bond we’d created worked in a whole different area of the brain, and owed its existence to the fact we’d once shared blood.

With a slight grimace, I imagined that psychic door in my mind and threw it open. It was certainly easier to do than the first few times I’d tried.

Why do you ask about Mrs. Hunt?
he asked immediately.

His mind-voice was as rich and as sexy as his regular voice, flowing through every corner of my being like a hot summer breeze.

I found the scent I remembered, only it belonged to Mrs. Hunt. And Mrs. Hunt’s scent is very similar to the scent of a man from my past.

Then you must have the wrong scent. No two persons have the same scent. Besides, it was a man who abused you in the center, not a woman.

Don’t you think I’m more than aware of that fact?
I thanked the waitress as she placed an entrée plate in front of me, and picked up my knife and fork.
I’m just telling you what my senses are telling me. I can’t help it if it’s not making sense.

I tucked into my meal as I tried to remember the name of the man who had smelled like Mrs. Hunt, but my memories refused to cooperate. Maybe he’d been a one-night stand. I didn’t do it regularly, but I was a wolf, and I didn’t
not
do it, either.

Once I’d finished my meal and the waitress had come back and collected the plate, I asked,
How well do you know the Hunts?

He frowned slightly, and somehow managed to carry on a polite conversation with the woman sitting on the other side of him as he said to me,
I’ve only ever seen them at charity events like this.

And has Mrs. Hunt always looked so…dowdy?

His quick glance was somewhat irritated.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and not always evident on the surface.

Says the man who is never seen with someone less than stunning.

Quinn’s amusement shimmered through me.
I have an image to uphold.

I snorted softly. In so many ways, this old vampire was so typically
male
in his responses. And a human male at that.

What pack does Mrs. Hunt come from?

I would have said brown, except I’ve never seen a wolf from a brown pack with eyes quite like hers. But there again, I wasn’t exactly well traveled. Quinn, on the other hand, was.

He sipped his wine, flashed a toe-curling smile at the waitress as she picked up his uneaten plate, then gave me a somewhat darker look. And had me wishing he’d flash a few toe-curling smiles my way occasionally.

Mrs. Hunt isn’t a werewolf.
His tone suggested I was an idiot to believe otherwise.

But while my memories might be whacked, my instincts were working just fine.
Trust me on this—she’s a wolf.

No, she’s not.

Well, the Mrs. Hunt in this room is.
I paused to look around the room. She had to be on one of the tables near the stage, which I couldn’t see thanks to a pillar.
Could she be a doppelganger of some kind?

Doppelgangers are ghostly replicas, not human tissue.

You know what I mean.

Yes.
He paused.
If she’s a wolf, then she’s obviously not the real Mrs. Hunt. The question is, when did the exchange take place?

Kellen’s comments came to mind.
She apparently disappeared from the charity scene for three weeks a couple of months ago. Wouldn’t even talk to her friends, apparently.

How do you know this?

I asked.

Who?

People,
I said airily.

Annoyance ran through his gaze. And was that a hint of jealousy? Did the vampire suspect?

The vampire suspects, all right. Who the hell did you fuck to get that information?

I met his gaze, and shook my head.
That is none of your damn business.

We are here to do a job—

Which I’m goddamn doing, so stop acting like a cuckolded husband.

He looked away. But his anger swam around me, breathtakingly sharp. Well, tough. And it wasn’t like our deal had even started yet.

So, why would someone want to replace Mrs. Hunt?
I said, more to get the conversation back on track than any real desire to continue conversing with the stubborn, stupid man.

The why is easy. Hunt’s a general. He’d have access to many top-secret military areas.

Including Landsend?

He looked at me, eyebrow raised.
Possibly.

But would Hunt be the type to share military secrets during pillow talk?

Having talked to the man, no. But he might not be doing it knowingly.

Wolves aren’t often telepathic.

You are.

Yeah, but that’s thanks solely to a vampire background.

So your mother wasn’t telepathic?

I gave him a sideways glance.
That comes under the heading of “none of your business,” doesn’t it?

You are such a bitch sometimes.

I grinned.
When you share, I share. It’s as simple as that, buddy-boy.

At that point, an MC got up and started proceedings, which included a charity auction. Having no money to play with, my attention wandered back to my original problem—who was the lover in my past that smelled of pine and springtime?

You’ve had so many you can’t remember?

If I could have hauled off and hit him, I would have.
Are you going to tell me you can recall the name of every woman you’ve slept with?

No. But I sure as hell can recall their faces.

Of every single one? Right through all of your twelve hundred and forty odd years?

Every woman I’ve slept with for pleasure, most certainly.

Yeah, right. I was really believing that one.
But that’s not every woman you’ve slept with, is it?

No.
He raised a hand, bidding for a weird-looking painting.

I’ve danced with wolves out of the same sort of need. I couldn’t tell you what they looked like let alone what they smelled like.
I paused, but couldn’t resist adding,
Remember what you said a few months ago? That a wolf will jump anything with a dick when the need was on her? I guess it’s true.

I didn’t put it so crudely.

Maybe not, but the intent was there.

He raised his hand again.
I believe you told me you’d never got to that stage before.

I believe I may have lied.

And here I was thinking you were at least honest.

I’m a werewolf—we’re all lying whores, aren’t we?

He looked at me for several long seconds, his expression vampire clean, then just shook his head and looked away.

The auction continued. Quinn bought two paintings and a dinner for two at some fancy restaurant while I got more and more bored. If this was a sample of the high life, then the high life wasn’t for me.

The auction finally finished and dessert arrived. I started to tuck in, then saw Mrs. Hunt on the arm of her husband, heading for the door.

“Time for us to go,” Quinn said, wrapping his fingers around my arm as he exchanged quick good-byes with our tablemates.

And do what, precisely?

Follow them.

We grabbed my coat from the cloakroom, and headed out into the foyer. The air here was cooler, and I shivered.
We have our orders.

We have half an hour before we have to head back to the airport. I’d like to see where they go.

Probably straight home after such a fun-packed night.
The Hunts had already disappeared. We caught the other elevator and headed down.

It’s unusual for them to leave a function like this so early.

I shoved on my coat, and quickly did up the buttons.
Maybe the general’s feeling randy.

He gave me a flat look but didn’t bother saying anything. I resisted the impulse to grin. It might not be wise, but damn, baiting him was fun.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened. The Hunts were already out the main doors and walking down the stairs. We hurried after them, slowing only when the foyer doors opened to let us out.

The night air hit like ice, freezing the bits that were exposed. I crossed my arms, trying to stop my teeth from chattering as Quinn pulled me to a stop on the bottom step, then made a quick call to his driver.

The Hunts walked to the leading cab in the rank, the general opening the door for his wife. In that instant, the sensation of danger hit so hard that it left me gasping for air. Air that screamed a warning that something fast and deadly was tearing through the night toward us.

I threw myself sideways, knocking Quinn out of the way. He cursed, his arms going around me, instinctively cushioning my body with his as we fell to the ground. He grunted as we hit, and his eyes widened. Something burned past my ear, and I twisted around in time to see one side of the glass doors shatter.

Someone had shot at us.

A woman screamed. A high-pitched, wailing sound of horror.

Gut churning, I twisted around again.

Martin Hunt lay on the ground, his face little more than a pulpy mass of blood and bone.

Quinn thrust me off him, and I scrambled to my feet.

“Two shooters,” he said. “One from the building directly ahead, one from the right.”

“I’ll take that one,” I said, pointing to the building directly ahead as I kicked off my stilettos.

He nodded, and blurred into night. I grabbed my heels then ran with vampire speed across the road and into the office building. Hitting the guard telepathically, I made him forget he’d seen me as I ran into the nearest stairwell.

There was undoubtedly more than one set of stairs, but right now, the important thing was getting to the roof as fast as possible. I could track the assassin’s scent from there.