“Black and Blonde” (Part 7)

Clare was waiting for him in her suite at the Four Seasons. She had just come from the shower when he arrived at the door; she answered his knock wearing a loose terry robe bearing the hotel crest on the breast pocket. Her hair was wet, slicked back from her face to accentuate the prominent angle of her cheekbones. She grinned, pleased. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you.”

He brandished an old Army issue duffle bag. “I had to pack my gear.”

Her grin broadened over jagged white fangs. “Then you’re coming with me.”

“Make me an offer I can’t refuse.”

She caught him by the waistband and yanked him over the threshold, making him drop the bag and kicking the door closed behind him. “How’s this for starters?” she growled into his mouth. She pinned him against the door and wriggled free of her robe as her hands worked him out of his jeans. It was like being hit by a meteor: he saw stars, felt nothing, then every nerve lit up like a sparkler. Whenever he imagined himself accustomed to senses amplified by immortality, Clare proved him wrong. She took him higher and dropped him further than should have been possible. In his lucid moments, he wondered if it was in him to foil her—but lucid moments were few and far between when she was in his arms. The force of her nature overpowered his every time; he obeyed her because he didn’t know how to disobey her … and wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

“Clare—”

“Don’t talk.”

“Clare, I—”

She sank her claws into the tender flesh of his belly and he gasped. He felt her smile against his open mouth, felt her hands slip deep into his jeans. He tried to drive her back a step, stumbled over the duffle bag and went to his knees. Clare went down beneath him, laughing, snaking those long legs around his hips. Black gave up. Give her what she wants, he thought on the downward thrust, then she can lie to me and I’ll believe her and we’ll both be happy.

If only that were true.

She put on a good show. She broke a sweat on him and lay back sated, flinging her arms wide though her legs remained coiled around him. They hadn’t made it beyond the little alcove at the door before the wrangling had started. God knew what the neighbours had heard. He tried to get up but she locked her legs and held him in place, rolling her hips under his. “You like?”

He shook his head, fighting the creeping tingle at the base of his spine. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

She released a gale of crazy laughter. “That’s the beauty of it, Ariel. You can’t die.”

Oh, yes I can, he thought. He lowered his head and nipped at her breast. She made a noise of vague protest, urging him to violence but he didn’t take the cue. “We have to talk.”

“Not now. I don’t want to talk. I just want to feel you inside me. It’s so good, we should have stayed together from the start.”

“Yeah, it’s good, but we have to talk. So let me up.”

“Yes, Clare, do let him up. I want to hear what he has to say.”

Black swore aloud, recognizing the gravelly drawl. A pair of polished patent boots had appeared by Clare’s head, but Black didn’t bother lifting his to see who owned them. Instead, he looked accusingly at Clare. She stared back, revealing nothing—but she let him up.

Raymond bent to help her to her feet. Black used the opportunity to get up and shove everything back into his jeans. “I wasn’t expecting you,” he said, dryly.

The silken smile flashed. “Surprise.”

“Why do I have the feeling this isn’t the last one of the evening?”

“How astute of you, Ariel. Why don’t you tell Clare why you’re really here?”

“You tell her, then we’ll both know.”

Clare tried to look puzzled, but her close proximity to Raymond betrayed her. She knew why Black had come, and was worried enough to have called on her maker. Black saw no reason to hedge. He reached into his jacket and showed her the photo of Travis. “You know this guy.” It was not a question.

“I know a lot of guys,” she said. “Why do you care about this one?”

“He’s been dead for six months now, but there’s some debate about whether or not it was suicide. I don’t think it was. I think you killed him.”

Her jaw dropped. “You bastard; how dare you!”

“I dare because I know you. He was your type, for one thing. You’ve always had it for pretty boys with problems and when you met him, this boy had plenty. What I don’t understand is why you came back for him. Your usual style is to leave them wanting more.”

A knock came at the door before she could reply. “Answer it,” Raymond said.

Black nudged the duffle bag to one side and opened the door. Tess stood in the hallway. She had exchanged her jeans for roomy fleece pants that matched her sweatshirt, and the shell pink outfit made her look small and vulnerable. Jett the vampire loomed behind her. He grinned at Raymond. “I found her downstairs.”

Raymond came forward like a host welcoming the guest of honour to a party. He smiled warmly, took Tess by the hand. “Come in, my dear. It’s time that we met face to face, don’t you agree?”

She didn’t glance at Black as Jett steered her into the suite. Jett did. Black knew instantly that not all of them were going to get out of this alive. “You know him?” he asked Tess.

She shook her head. “Ah,” Raymond cooed, “but I know so much about you, little thing. You’ve been a very naughty girl, spying on Ariel. Not too smart, either, from the look of it. He wasn’t your best bet.”

“I don’t know about that,” she replied steadily. “He’s brought me to you.”

Raymond looked condescending. “And now that you’re here …?”

“I want to know which one of you murdered my lover.”

Raymond laughed. “What makes you think any of us murdered anyone?”

“You gave me the first hint,” Black told him. “You changed the subject when I asked if you knew who might have seen Travis before he died. Then you told me way too much about the blonde on my tail. You couldn’t have known that she suspected a vampire was responsible for her lover’s death unless she had told you herself.”

“You’re only guessing,” Clare spoke up. “You don’t know for sure.”

He rounded on her. “And you finished up by appearing on cue, hellbent on getting me out of town when you haven’t given a rat’s ass before now. You don’t want me with you, Clare. I’d be with you now if you did.”

“You can still come with me,” she said. “I want you to come with me.”

“I’d like to,” he said truthfully, “but it’s not going to happen. See, you and I don’t share the same point of view on very many things. You’ve always considered people as playthings; little mice to bat between your paws until you nail one with a claw. Well, sugar, you’ve nailed me one too many times. Tess, here, has offered me ten grand to take you out for Travis’s murder, and that’s the sort of offer I find hard to refuse.”

Clare was appalled. “Ten thousand? Is all you think of me?”

“Oh, no, honey, I think a lot less.”

Raymond drew Tess against his chest and embraced her from behind, placing his hands square on top of her breasts. His eyes gleamed on Black. “I’ll give you ten times that to take out this troublesome little thorn. She’s doomed anyway, and you would be so much more merciful than me.”

Black studied Tess’s face. She was pale but resolute, and though he expected her to bring up the dossier, she stayed silent. Even when Raymond’s fingers closed on her breasts, she gave no sign that it bothered her. Hang in there, honey, he thought, don’t let me down. “Maybe Jett would like her,” he suggested.

Raymond frowned, brushing his chin over the top of her head. “She’s far too delicate for Jett. Mortal women tear so easily, don’t they, big fella?”

Jett smirked. “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” Raymond replied, matter-of-factly. “This room is rented.”

“Let me have her,” Clare said. “Then I’ll have the pair.”

“Ah, but then poor Ariel loses his commission. What will it be, Ariel? Ten or ten times ten?”

Black’s eyes were fierce on Clare’s face. Even through his shades, she felt the weight of his stare. She set her jaw and turned to him, brown eyes faintly triumphant. She saw no way out for him or Tess. They had gambled and lost. “You did it,” he said flatly. “You killed Travis.”

She smiled.

“Why?” Tess burst out. She gripped Raymond’s wrists in white-knuckled hands, holding him to her breasts whether he wanted it or not. “What did he ever do to you?”

Clare turned her lazy eyes to Tess. “Oh, lots of things, in the beginning. Wonderful things. When we first met, we had great fun together—so much that I suppose he never got over it. When we met again six months ago, he wanted to resume the relationship, but I was done with him. I didn’t mean to kill him. He forced it on me.”

Black watched Tess crumble in Raymond’s arms. She tried to stay composed, but Clare’s venom was more effective than a rattlesnake’s. The colour drained from her face, and she seemed to shrink. “That’s not true.”

“Trust me, dearie. There isn’t a mortal alive who can be satisfied with just a little.”

Tess’s hands clenched on Raymond’s wrists. Her eyes closed, and for a second Black believed all was lost. He was on the point of saying he would take her when she suddenly doubled over and drove an elbow deep into Raymond’s gut.

Raymond released her with a surprised woof; she dropped, rolled and pulled the flare gun from the makeshift holster Black had strapped to her ankle before leaving the house. She tossed it blindly in his direction. Jett moved to intercept it and took a knife in the shoulder for his effort. Black caught the gun and aimed it at Clare, freezing her before she could get to Tess. “Get behind me,” he snapped at the blonde, and she scurried to obey.

Raymond had recovered and was warily eyeing the gun. Clare faced the barrel head on. “You don’t have the balls,” she said.

“Surprise,” he retorted—and fired.

to be continued ...