Phantom's Touch: Sexy Paranormal (Book 2, Phantom Series) (28 page)

The sneer in his voice told Lauren he intended to do just that. She wondered if David would make it as far as the gate. Yet if he stayed, she doubted he’d live long. Farrow Pryce didn’t look like the type to leave loose ends.

David stepped forward and grabbed for Lauren’s arm. “I’m not—”

Lauren spun out of his reach. “Don’t be a fool. Get the hell out of here, or I swear to God, I’ll make sure that the only acting job you get in the next ten years is in commercials for erectile dysfunction.”

He hesitated, but she put every ounce of her determination into her eyes and stared him down, trying to broadcast her fears in her expression. His gaze flicked toward Pryce’s men. After a curt nod, he walked away, his pace increasing as he turned the corner. There. He’d saved her life. She’d just saved his. Debt repaid.

Farrow Pryce made no move to hamper David’s escape, so she turned her attention toward her original goal.

Lauren walked forward into the inner circle, beneath the wide awning that shaded the table where Farrow had laid the sword. She thought, for an instant, that she felt Aiden somewhere near, but since they’d never interacted during the daytime while outside, she wasn’t entirely sure.

Sunset loomed. The sky was now more purple than blue. The lowest curve of the sun kissed the horizon. She had to keep Farrow talking for just a while longer.

Farrow grinned up at her. He’d already filled in her name and the date on the check, as well as signed his name. He had only to fill in the amount.

“And why would I take a check from you?” she asked. “How do I know it won’t just bounce, or that you won’t stop payment?”

He twirled the pen around his long fingers. “Because then our transaction would not be legal. That could cause the very messy and annoying involvement of people like lawyers and bankers and, dare I say, law enforcement. No, no, Ms. Cole, I assure you my money is quite good.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, careful to position them so that her breasts were nicely emphasized. “Then let’s talk price.”

Only a few streaks of blue lingered in the sky that was now a blazing, fiery red—not unlike the opal set in the handle of the sword. Lauren spared the weapon a glance and saw the gemstone sparkle.

Unfortunately, the blade itself had also started to glow.

Lauren twisted her body, leaning against the table with her hands behind her, shifting so that Farrow Pryce was eye level with her waist and his view of the sword was blocked.

“How much?” she asked.

“How much would you like?”

“How much did you offer Ross?”

When he repeated the price, she laughed. “You must really, really want this sword. You know, swords are considered a major phallic symbol. Think that has anything to do with. . .?”

Farrow ignored her remark and started to fill in the amount. Lauren leaned closer and stayed his hand. “I want more than you offered Ross. If we’re going to keep this whole matter hush-hush, I’m going to have to pay off those Mexicans for him.”

“You’re a generous woman,” Farrow whispered. “How about if I tack on an extra million for your trouble? Will that satisfy you?”

She smiled seductively, inching just a bit closer, knowing that as the sky darkened around them, the sword’s glow would become more dazzling and more impossible to ignore. “Takes a lot more than money to satisfy me. Make it two.”

He inhaled deeply, then turned to write, but one of the guards must have noticed the sword, because he made a squeaking noise and nearly knocked over an urn positioned near the table when backing away. Farrow noticed, threw his pen aside and jumped to his feet, motioning wildly for everyone to move away, including Catalina, who seemed reluctant to release the blade.

“Don’t touch it! Let go! What are you doing?”

Ben grabbed Catalina by the shoulders and pulled her hard against his chest.

The blue and red lights emanating from the sword intensified. Connected to darkness sensors, the lanterns strung on the pool deck bloomed to life. Suddenly Lauren could feel Aiden’s presence strengthening. Unfortunately both of Farrow’s guards had pulled their guns out again in an instinctive reaction to the unknown.

“What’s happening?” Farrow asked, his eyes wide with such a mixture of wonder and pleasure, Lauren suspected he was going to orgasm right there.

The darker the sky became, the more pronounced the sapphire glow on the blade and the reddish glow from the handle. The effect was awe-inspiring and hypnotic, but Lauren tore her gaze away to make eye contact with Ben. He moved Catalina farther away from the table.

Lauren, however, took a step forward. When Aiden emerged to confront Pryce, she wanted a front-row seat.

Power surged through him like a deep inhalation of air. His form concentrated into a central point, growing stronger and more solid with each extinguished flame of the setting sun. Knowing he’d soon appear, Aiden focused on the space directly across the table from Farrow Pryce and manifested there. Instantly his hand was on the hilt of the sword, and before anyone could even gasp in surprise, he had the weapon in his hand, leveled at the heir to his centuries-old enemy.

Pryce reacted quickly, grabbing Lauren and pulling her in front of him like a shield, a small pistol suddenly in his hand where there was none before. The guards who’d transported Ben and the psychic to this place also had weapons, but as Ben and Catalina were prepared for what was about to happen, the couple took the advantage. Ben struck with his fists, knocking the first man in the face so hard his head snapped back and his gun went flying. Catalina relied on an elbow to the midsection of her assailant, paired with a backward head butt and a spinning kick to the groin.

She faltered, but retrieved the weapon nonetheless, as Ben had. Now three of them were armed against one enemy—Pryce.

“You are outgunned,” Aiden warned.

Pryce held the gun to Lauren’s temple, his hand clutched around her upper arm so tightly she hissed with pain.

“I don’t care who you kill,” Pryce taunted, sneering at the men Ben and Catalina had ordered to the ground. “But I daresay you’ll care if I blow this woman’s brains out. Who are you? What are you? Are you Rogan?”

Aiden held the sword steady, even though he could not strike at this distance. Yet he knew, as he’d not known since the day he boarded a schooner bound for England from the bloody battlefields of Scotland, that he could kill a man without regret. Though Lauren remained in the blackguard’s grasp, he saw no fear in her eyes. He saw only trust. And, dared he believe, love?

“I am Aiden Forsyth, sir. Let her go.”

Farrow laughed. “Not likely. What are you?”

“Your worst nightmare,” Lauren said quietly.

Aiden grinned.

Farrow jammed the pistol’s tip harder into her temple.

“Tell me! Did he trap you in the sword? Are you his minion, held by the magic to do his bidding?”

Farrow’s gaze was wide and wild, but did not waver. Aiden knew that when he acted, he’d have to be quick or else Lauren could die.

“I am his heir,” Farrow claimed haughtily. “You will obey me.”

Lauren exhaled audibly. “You, sir, have been watching too many movies.”

Her brazen comment distracted Farrow for the split second Aiden needed to act. He concentrated, and the table between them shimmered and then disappeared. He took a step nearer, but Farrow tightened his hold on Lauren and jammed the gun barrel deep into her flesh, making her yelp.

“Obey you?” Aiden sneered. “I was Rogan’s greatest enemy, sir, and no man’s slave.”

Aiden held out his other hand, called to the gun with his mind, and seconds later it flew from Farrow’s grip and landed in his. Lauren exploited Farrow’s surprise, then mimicked Catalina’s effective elbow and spinning kick, sending Farrow flying backward into the pool.

Lauren rushed toward Aiden, but he shunted her aside. Extending the sword over the glistening blue water, he called to the magic to seal the top of the water so that Farrow Pryce remained beneath the surface, which now glowed with an otherworldly luminescence.

“Don’t do it,” Ben warned.

Aiden spared him a glance. Ben’s eyes blazed with warning.

“The police are coming,” Catalina said. “Listen.”

In the distance Aiden heard a persistent whine.

Below him, Farrow Pryce was pounding his hands against the invisible barrier that kept him beneath the water. The instinct to drown the man, to watch the life eke out of his body, appealed to Aiden in ways that surprised even him. He’d left Culloden convinced he was not cut out to be a killer. But now his actions and desires contradicted that belief.

Murder felt good.

Just.

Deserved.

Until Lauren ran her hand along the length of his arm.

“Don’t,” she said softly.

“He is Rogan’s heir.”

“No, he’s not,” Ben supplied. “He wants the organization dedicated to Rogan’s corrupt magic, but he’s not of his blood. Rogan’s heir is named Gemma Von Roan, and as of this morning she kidnapped my father—your brother Paxton.”

“Paxton?”

Aiden lowered the sword. The violet glow firing across the pool burned out, and Farrow Pryce burst to the surface, heaving in great gulps of air. But he floundered, chopping at the water, too disoriented to swim to the edge. Aiden turned, uncaring now whether Pryce lived or died. He might not have Rogan’s cursed blood running through his veins, but he was associated with the sorcerer and had put Lauren in grave danger. Aiden handed her the pistol he’d magicked away from Pryce and charged toward Ben.

“Paxton is alive?”

The man Ben had been holding at bay moved to run, spurred, no doubt, by the increasing volume of the sirens now rending the air with their droning squeal. With a thought, Aiden conjured ropes that wound instantly around him and his compatriot until they were trussed and squirming on the grassy lawn.

“That’s cool,” Ben said, impressed.

Aiden glanced at his hands. The power to manipulate Rogan’s magic was convenient, but he paid a price every time he called up the magic. Something chipped at his soul. Something dark. Something evil.

“It is Rogan’s magic,” Aiden spat. “Not mine. Tell me of my brother.”

Lauren was coaxing Pryce to the edge of the pool, holding the gun steady and promising all manner of punishments and indignities once he was in the custody of the authorities. He had no doubt she could handle that pitiful man while he learned whether what he’d dreamed was true.

A brother? Alive?

“He’s old,” Ben answered.

“But very strong,” Catalina assured him.

“Old?”

“He was freed from the curse over sixty years ago. It’s a long story. One he should tell you himself,” Ben finished regretfully.

“Where is he?”

The sirens stopped. Voices on the other side of the house echoed across the expanse of lawn.

“Aiden, put down the sword,” Lauren warned.

“What?”

Lauren had yanked Farrow Pryce onto the white pool deck, but left him hacking on the ground as she joined Ben, Catalina and Aiden. “Put your guns down. Don’t you guys watch action flicks? The cops are on their way, and anyone with a weapon isn’t going to be treated like royalty.”

She tossed her gun into the pool. Ben and Catalina did the same. Aiden, however, held tight to the sword. It was his lifeline and his prison.

Lauren grabbed his shirt just above his heart. “They’ll take it as evidence,” she said. “This whole mess started with the sword. If they take it, you’ll go with them. We won’t be able to explain why you’re haunting the police station.”

“Free him,” Catalina said.

“What?” Lauren said.

Catalina grabbed Ben’s arm possessively. “Free him from the sword. Completely. Make him human again. Just tell him you love him.”

“That’s all she must do?” Aiden asked.

But his heart ached nonetheless. Though he and Lauren had made love many times since she’d touched the blade and released him into a phantom state between life and loneliness, they’d never admitted that depth of emotion. He loved her. He knew he did. How could he not when she was everything a man could want, but could not possibly have? She, on the other hand, guarded her heart with swords deadlier and more razor-sharp then any he’d wielded in his lifetime.

“She just has to mean it,” Ben confirmed.

Aiden’s brain swarmed confusingly as Lauren tugged him closer and kissed him with such passion he dropped the sword to his side. Their tongues intertwined in a familiar dance of sensations that he could lose himself in forever. But just as he slid his hands along her waist and tugged her close, she broke away.

“I love you,” she said. “I never thought I could ever love a man again, but you didn’t give me any choice.”

Their second kiss was a burst of awareness that shot through his veins like molten fire. In a flash of red light he lost his ability to stand, his ability to hold her, his ability to breathe. Distantly he heard his name screeched in terror, but he could not think, could not respond. Deep in his midsection he felt a rip not unlike the tearing of flesh, yanking his innards in a gush of blinding pain.

And then, again, the blackness.

***

“Aiden?” Lauren dropped to his side. He was white. Stark white. Clammy and cold. It was as if he’d never seen sunlight, never breathed air. Moisture drenched him, but when she touched her hand to his cheek, there was very little heat.

“What’s happening?” she asked desperately.

Catalina dropped down beside her and placed her hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Just give him a—”

It happened all at once. They were all so concentrated on Aiden that they did not hear the police come around the side of the house, or sec Farrow Pryce crawling across the pool deck on his way toward the sword. By the time the cops yelled for everyone to remain still, he’d grabbed the sword and taken off toward the infinity edge of the pool.

He was going to. . .

Jump.

He was there.

And then he was gone.

Ben made a move toward the drop-off, but the police yelled for everyone to stay where they were.

Lauren didn’t need to be told. She didn’t care what happened to Pryce or the damned sword. She only wanted Aiden, alive, solid. Permanent.

She shifted so that his head was in her lap. It was so dark. The glow from the lanterns hardly gave her enough light to see anything, especially once she realized that her eyes were filled with tears. She swiped them away and patted Aiden’s cheeks.

“Aiden, I know my admitting that I love you came as a huge shock, but you’re giving me a complex here. I went to all the trouble of opening my heart; the least you can do is tell me you love me back.”

His lips twitched, then, millimeter by, millimeter, curved into a cocky smile. “You couldn’t resist me.”

She nearly shot back with some stupid, snarky remark, but instead she kissed him, both hands cupping his face, and her hair curtaining them from view.

In the background she heard Catalina sniffle, then Ben assuring the police that they were all fine and encouraging them to pursue Farrow Pryce. Someone shouted for spotlights. The scuffle of Farrow’s thugs being dragged to their feet, protesting and shouting about crazy magic and invisible ropes and flying guns, was noise she barely registered as she concentrated on the feel of Aiden’s mouth on hers. Slowly the coolness of his skin surrendered under an intense heat, and when she pressed her cheek against his chest and allowed her tears to flow freely, the heartbeat beneath her ear blocked out every other unimportant sound.

He wrapped his arms around her, and though she was holding him, Lauren had never felt so cradled, so protected in her entire life.

“Ma’am, is he all right? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

Lauren looked up. The policeman, dressed in black and helmeted, threw back his night-vision visor. “He’ll be fine.”

Aiden groaned as he untwined from Lauren and tried to get to his feet, but with a quick assist from the cop he was standing, just as strong and proud as he had when he’d first emerged from the sword. “Thank you, sir,” he said to the policeman. “I merely took a bad fall.”

“Not as bad as your friend,” the cop replied, thumbing toward the cliff. “No way he survived that drop. We’re going to need a statement, if you’ll all take a seat over there. Nice costume, by the way. Doing a period piece next, Ms. Cole?”

“Something like that,” she replied.

Aiden chose the chair at the head of the granite table, where Farrow had held court, then tugged her into his lap. He kissed her thoroughly, his hands intent on touching every part of her, as if he were assuring himself that she was real. That he was real. That they were both alive and free of any curse, magical or otherwise.

Lauren lost all track of time until someone cleared his throat.

She blinked and focused on Ben, who was sitting behind Catalina, his arms wrapped possessively around her shoulders.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ben said sheepishly.

“No, he’s not,” Catalina amended. “The police are busy searching for that maniac, but they’ll be back soon. You need a cover story.”

Aiden looked perplexed.

“It’s not every day the Malibu police meet a man in eighteenth-century clothing who has no identification, no job, no address,” Lauren explained.

“ ’Tis untrue! I shall soon have documents from the Screen Actors Guild that will say precisely who I am. I heard Helen tell you as much. So apparently in this century I am an actor. And if I’m not mistaken, my address is a rather tony home in an area you call Beverly Hills.”

Lauren’s heart swelled. This couldn’t be happening.