They talked for only a moment before Bricker stood and moved to the medical refrigerator she'd earlier noted held a stock of blood. As she watched, he opened the glass-fronted door to retrieve a couple of bags.
Jo frowned, wondering what on earth he was going to do with them. Her confusion only increased when he tossed one of the bags to Mortimer, and she eased up a little higher to see better, only to drop quickly out of view again when Bricker suddenly glanced in her direction.
Biting her lip, Jo waited, sure she'd been spotted and that Bricker would come bursting into the garage any moment. But a moment passed and then several more without the sudden sound of the garage door opening. Still, she gave it another
moment and then eased up just high enough to see through the windows again. What she saw was Bricker throwing out what appeared to be a now-empty blood bag as he followed Mortimer out of the office.
Jo ducked back down and waited until she heard the slam of the outer door.
She then eased back up to peer through the
windows of the SUV again. The office was empty, Mortimer and Bricker were gone. Jo hesitated and then got to her feet and moved to the large garage door in front of the SUV she'd been hiding behind. Rising up on her tiptoes, she managed to peer out the high window and saw Mortimer and Bricker moving off across the lawn toward the house. She watched, waiting until they entered through the sliding glass door, and then turned to peer around the garage.
Unlike the office, the garage lights had been on when she'd entered the building and still were. Jo had no idea why, unless some of the partygoers had arrived in some of the SUVs in here.
Which meant they'd be coming in to collect their
vehicles when they wanted to leave. She had to get moving.
Jo moved quickly to the long worktable along the back wall of the garage, her eyes quickly scanning the tools hanging from hooks in the pegboard above it. There was everything from screwdrivers to chain saws on that board. Jo briefly considered the easy route, taking the chain saw and just cutting through the bars, or failing that-because she wasn't entirely sure even a chain saw could cut through metal bars-simply cutting through the plasterboard walls. How ever, chain saws were bloody noisy, and the sound might reach the house or the front gate and bring someone running, which meant she had to do it the hard way. She'd have to pick the lock. It wasn't an impossible task, but she was rusty and it might take a bit of time. She hoped the men didn't return for a while as she grabbed up several likely-looking tools.
Moving quickly, Jo hurried out of the garage, but instead of heading right back to Nicholas's cell, she made a quick detour into the office for a brief look out the window. Reassured to find the lawn empty and still, she hurried out of the office with determined strides.
Fate was a fickle bitch with a very bad sense of humor, Nicholas decided, lying on the cot in his cell and staring up at the ceiling. Here he was, caught and about to meet his Maker, and Madam Fate throws a life mate at him just to muddy the waters. How sick and twisted was that?
He grimaced at the ceiling, his ears straining to hear any sounds of movement in the building. Mortimer and Bricker had arrived not long after Jo had slipped away in search of keys. Since there had been no uproar or stir after they'd left him, it seemed obvious her presence hadn't been discovered. She must have hidden, he supposed, and wondered why he hadn't warned the men of her presence.
That would have been the responsible thing to do, Nicholas knew. Her being here and the fact that she'd regained the memories that Decker had wiped could cause problems. However, Nicholas hadn't been willing to give up the opportunity to talk with her again, maybe even steal another kiss, and possibly even escape. He'd like to take her with him, but he had nothing to offer her except life on the run, and that was no life for a woman like Jo. He could already tell she was the free-spirited type, and they couldn't be free-spirited when they were on the run. They had to be cautious and careful about every little thing they did.
Mind you, he hadn't been much of either lately, Nicholas acknowledged.
He'd been taking too many chances and too
many risks. It was what had gotten him caught this time and nearly got him caught at the beginning of summer. But he couldn't regret what he'd done in either instance. Even if he died tomorrow, Nicholas wouldn't regret saving Jo from Ernie. The rogue would have either killed her, or hurt her badly and gone after Dani and her sister, or have simply taken Jo back to his father. None of those conclusions was acceptable to him. He might not be able to claim Jo as his life mate, but Nicholas would do what he could to keep her safe while he could.
Unfortunately, that meant he couldn't explain the situation to her. Not that Nicholas had it in him to tell her the truth anyway. He had no desire to see the horror and disgust enter her eyes when she learned what he'd done fifty years ago.
If she even believed him and didn't simply decide he was spaced out on drugs or just plain crazy. After all, he didn't look like he could have been around for fifty years, and explaining the whole I'm-a-vampire bit wasn't likely to be that believable to her.
Nicholas smiled faintly at the thought of her expression if he tried to explain that. Really, I am a vampire, but a good vampire... except for that one time I murdered an innocent.
He grimaced. Yeah, except for that one inexplicable evil deed he'd performed while in the throes of grief, he was a swell guy.
The slam of the outer door caught his ear, and Nicholas opened his eyes, straining to listen for other sounds in the building, but the steady hum of Mortimer and Bricker's voices from the office was gone. Absolute silence seemed to resound from the hall. He waited another moment, but there wasn't any noise at all now except for his own breathing.
Nicholas was starting to worry that his life mate had decided to leave him to his fate and had slipped back to the safety of the house when he heard the soft "shush" of air being moved as a door opened. It was followed by the scuff of someone walking quickly, and Nicholas smiled to himself. He was sure it was Jo and that she was still here. It might be selfish of him, but he was glad. He could talk with her a little bit and maybe learn something about this woman who could have been his salvation had he not made one stupid, irreconcilable mistake all those years ago.
Standing, he moved to the bars to peer out. She appeared just moments after he reached them, expression fretful and eyes nervous as she hurried down the hall toward him.
"I couldn't get the keys, Bricker has them," Jo babbled as she approached.
"But I found these and think I can pick the
lock."
"Pick it?" Nicholas asked doubtfully.
"Yes. I worked as a locksmith's assistant the summer between high school and university. He taught me a few tricks. I can do this," she assured him, dropping to her knees in front of his cell door.
She examined the lock briefly and then
grimaced. "It might take me a little time, but I can do it... and if not, I'll go back and get the axe and just chop through the wall."
Nicholas found himself smiling for no reason. Really, the woman was adorable, he thought, and asked, "So you've worked with a locksmith and now manage a bar. What else have you done in your short life?"
Jo paused and raised her eyebrows as she met his gaze. "My short life? You make it sound like I'm a kid and you're an old man. You're what? Maybe twentyseven or so?"
"Or so," he muttered, mentally adding, Give or take five hundred and thirty-three years. "So what else have you done?"
Jo shrugged, her attention back on the lock as she stuck her tools in and fiddled with the inner workings. Her voice was absent when she said, "Loads of things. What about you?"
"Loads of things," Nicholas echoed wryly, and suspected he'd worked a hell of a lot more jobs than she had.
"Are you married?"
That question surprised Nicholas, and he glanced away as the usual shaft of pain shot through him at the thought of his late wife. Oddly enough, for the first time in fifty years, the pain wasn't crushing. The memories of his Annie and losing her hurt, but not with the brutality he was used to. His gaze shifted back to Jo. She was concentrating on the lock, but paused to raise a suspicious eyebrow his way.
"Are you?" she asked.
Nicholas shook his head, but then admitted, "Widowed."
Surprise flashed across her face, and then she turned her gaze back to the lock, murmuring, "My sympathies."
"It was a long time ago," he said quietly, and for the first time, it felt like that was true. It had been fifty years since Nicholas had lost his Annie, but for most of those fifty years the loss had felt as raw as if it were just yesterday. Yet now... His gaze slid to Jo and he frowned, feeling guilt writhe in his gut at the knowledge that he was finally letting go of his grief and moving on with life.
"You must have been babies when you married if she's been dead awhile,"
Jo murmured, squinting into the lock as she
worked her tools.
He didn't comment to that, but instead asked, "Do you have a boyfriend or-"
"Nope," she interrupted. "No time. Full-time school and full-time work kind of leaves little time for guys. Besides, I see the worst of man at work."
Nicholas raised his eyebrows at the comment. He'd thought being a rogue hunter showed him the worst of mankind, but she sounded pretty certain. "How's that?"
Jo shrugged. "Given enough alcohol, even the nicest guy is an ass. You'd be amazed how many guys come in with their girlfriends, have a spat, and then when she marches out all upset, he leaves with another girl. Then he'd show up the next week with the original girlfriend again, who's probably completely ignorant that he was messing around the week before. Or-and this one just bugs my ass," she paused to add with a disgusted sneer before finishing, "there's no spat and they're all 'coochie coo I love you,' but the minute the girlfriend heads off to the bathroom, he's hitting on other girls."
"Hmm," Nicholas murmured, thinking stories like that were enough to make him glad he was an immortal and immortals tended to be monogamous.
"And the women are just as bad," Jo continued. "I always thought it was just the guys who screwed around, but I've learned different. The gals are just smarter about it. More cautious and discreet, not as loud or obvious so that you aren't really aware they're flirting, but then they disappear to the bathroom for a bit, and return rearranging their clothes and a smirking guy following doing up his pants."
"The same women whose men are hitting on other women while they're gone?" Nicholas asked curiously, thinking perhaps that explained the men's behavior. Maybe they had some sort of agreement, he thought, but Jo shook her head.
"That's the weird thing. As far as I can tell, cheat ers rarely hook up with cheaters. It's like they recognize their own and avoid them, because Lord knows a cheater wouldn't want to be cheated on,"
she said wryly. "It seems like one is always
faithful and the other does the cuckolding... Although it does occasionally happen where they're both stepping out on the other. I prefer seeing that. I figure they deserve each other."
"It sounds..." Nicholas hesitated. It sounded like her job at the bar had given her a very dim view of her fellow man and woman.
"Got it!" Jo exclaimed.
Nicholas had heard the click before her triumphant announcement and now watched with wonder as she withdrew her tools and stood to pull the door open. She did so with a little flourish, waving her hand and bowing as she gestured him out. It made him smile, but instead of stepping out and moving past her, he stood in front of her and waited for her to glance up before reaching for her, saying, "It seems now I owe you a thankyou."
Jo blinked in surprise. She'd expected Nicholas to rush out and flee as fast as his feet would carry him the moment she had the cell door open, but instead he caught her arms and drew her forward, his head descending toward hers. She didn't resist. Thankyous were nice... at least with Nicholas. She already knew that and wasn't adverse to enjoying more passionate thankyous with him, she thought, and then his mouth was covering hers and she was overwhelmed by the same amazing passion she'd experienced earlier.
Damn, he was a fine kisser, definitely worthy of the title rogue, Jo thought, letting the tools she held drop from her fingers so that she could slide her hands around his back. She hardly heard the varying clangs as the tools hit the hard concrete. Her mind was consumed by the waves of passion building and rolling through her, each one slamming against her brain with more strength as his mouth devoured hers. She wasn't aware of Nicholas moving, but suddenly felt the cold metal of bars against her back and briefly opened her eyes to see that he'd backed her up against the cell door opposite his, and then her eyes closed again on a moan as he pinned her there with his body, grinding his hips against her.
When his hands cupped her breasts through her top, Jo arched her back, pressing herself into the touch. Her hands moved to cover his, and she squeezed them encouragingly before reaching to run her own hands over his chest, wishing he wasn't wearing the shirt and she could touch his naked flesh. It was a rather startling thought for Jo. She wasn't a prude or a virgin, but she hardly knew this guy. In fact, other than his name, the fact that he was a widower and that he'd risked himself to help her, she didn't know a thing about him. But her body was acting like it knew him very well, or
wanted to. She wanted to. She wanted to know every naked inch of him. She wanted-Jo's thoughts died on a gasp as Nicholas suddenly tugged her T-shirt upward, baring her breasts. She wasn't big on bras.
They all had ribs and wires and all sorts of nasty little things to dig into a body. Other than wearing them to work, she tended to avoid them and hadn't worn one tonight. Jo was very glad she hadn't when Nicholas covered one naked orb with his hand and then broke their kiss to bend his head and claim the other with his mouth.