A Taste of Love and Evil (15 page)

“Because I didn’t know what was going on. Violet was the only person who knew I’d gone to that hotel, and although I didn’t think she had a reason to want me dead, how could I know for sure? I spoke to her last night, and I don’t believe she was behind the shooting, but—”

“You spoke to her? When? You didn’t tell me that, either.” Her voice was cool, but the tips of her fangs peeked out again.

“I haven’t had much chance, Rose. You were asleep until
a while ago. Now, listen. I didn’t tell Violet I’d seen you, because I wanted you to weigh your options. Violet should be flogged for endangering you, and she doesn’t deserve your loyalty.”

“I have to leave. Now.” She took a business card from her handbag and held it out. “Tell Juma—”

“It would be better if you stayed,” Jack said.

“Better for whom?” She marched into the living room and tossed the card on the bed beside Juma. “Why should I believe a word you’re saying? For all I know you’re double-crossing Violet. Maybe that’s why you’re so set on keeping me here.” She poked him again. “In fact, that seems all too likely. I made a commitment to Violet, and I will not let her down.”

“I’m not double-crossing anyone.” Jack put his back to the door and crossed his arms. “It’s not a good idea for you to leave just yet.”

Rose’s fangs slotted fully down. She bore down on him, fists clenched. “You’re going to try and stop me?”

“Of course not,” Jack said, maintaining his position. “I’m concerned for your safety, that’s all. If you’re determined to deliver the gown, it would be prudent for you to stay here, where no one can see you or your very conspicuous van, until I get you another vehicle.” He paused. “In any case, Violet’s unlikely to be awake. She works till all hours at her club, so she won’t be up at dawn.”

“I don’t suppose the streets are swarming with thugs at dawn, either.” Little jabs of allure sizzled toward Jack. “Why would I be in any danger?”

Jack shrugged, fighting to ignore the fangs, to stave off his attraction. “I don’t have any specifics. I just think—”

“Move over.” Rose shoved at him.

He didn’t budge. Her fangs called to him, her allure tantalized and teased, and his stubbornness was morphing into simple stupidity, but he didn’t care.

Rose blazed. “Get out of my way!”

He was about to throw up his arms in disgust—seriously, he was thinking about it; really, he was intending to step aside—when she got right in his face and the allure locked him in. He couldn’t, really couldn’t, couldn’t possibly drag his eyes away from her hot delicious mouth, her tiny sharp fangs, her tongue ready to tangle with his.

Through drooping lids he watched her eyes close. Their lips touched.
Ahhh.
His hands dropped to his sides. His fingers itched and stretched and yearned toward her. He sucked in her heat, breathed back hot and hard in response.

A nagging voice in his head piped up.
You’ll be sorry.

Shut up,
said another, a voice with clear authority.
This is
Rose.
You have one chance. You have to get this right.

He dabbed his tongue against hers, parried her response, thrust past her defenses, and raked his tongue across her fangs. She shuddered and opened to him with a mew of pleasure. He pressed his advantage, testing, tasting, exploring that sweet mouth, capturing her tongue and slipping away, nipping her upper lip, dabbing, teasing at her fangs. Her handbag slipped from her shoulder to her elbow, from her elbow to her hand, from her hand to the floor.

Jack ran his tingling fingers across her hips, feinting with his tongue as he slid his hands under her shirt to pinch at her waist, fondle the edges of those glorious breasts, feather past the taut nipples.
Oh, love.
A distant terror ran through him, but he pressed on, taking the kiss deeper, stronger.

Rose pulled away, growling softly, and lunged back at him in a flurry of lips, fangs, and tongue, her hands clawing into his hair, her everything jammed lush and pliant against him. In a surge of relief and lust he urged her on, sucked and licked and pulled at her lips, lifted and dragged her across his erection, ran his fingers gently down her butt and harder back again, up the crack of her ass. She moaned and writhed against him.

Breaking the kiss, Rose ran her fangs down his cheek and sank them into his throat.
Oh, God. Heaven. If
—

“Jeez, take it to the bedroom, will you?”

Hell.

Rose jerked her fangs out. It hurt like the devil, but Jack sucked up a groan more of despair than pain and moved his arm quickly upward to hide her face, shifting Rose slightly so Juma wouldn’t see. “Sorry,” Rose gasped, sucking her fangs back into their slots. She took two shallow, shaky breaths, swiped her healing tongue across the tiny, stinging cuts on Jack’s throat, and licked her lips clean of his blood.

She took a few steps back, and Jack turned away to get his own mess under control. The last thing he needed was some teenybopper goggling at the rapidly healing cuts on his throat or the remains of his erection. Damnation. Although, if he had even a small fragment of common sense, he’d be thankful the dumb chick was here.

Rescued from the maw of heaven. Uh…of hell. Right.

He got his breathing under control and retreated to the kitchen. Better than standing there hopelessly, helplessly, tongue lolling out and gaping at Rose. One point in his favor: he’d definitely got her going.

Not a major accomplishment, with a vamp,
said a nasty, practical little voice.

“Juma, I apologize,” Rose croaked. She ran a hand over her face and cleared her throat. “That was so rude of us.”

Juma yawned and sat up. “No problem. Bedroom, like I said.”

Rose adjusted her clothing. “As a matter of fact, I was about to leave.”

“That was some good-bye kiss,” Juma said—and then, in a sudden panic, “You’re going? Where?” She sat up in a hurry, taking in the suitcases by the door. “Don’t leave me!”

Rose sat beside Juma on the futon. “I have to deliver the dress to my customer, sweetie.”

“You don’t have to take your suitcases to the customer,” Juma said. “You were trying to sneak out before I woke up. I should have known. You’re like all the rest. You make promises and then you break them.”

Rose put her arm around Juma. “I’m not breaking my promise. I will not desert you. I packed my suitcases because that bedroom is Jack’s and I don’t want to share it with him.” She picked up the business card and gave it to the girl. “Jack is making some excellent arrangements for you, but if you’re not happy with them, call me and I’ll come get you.”

“I don’t believe you.” Juma shrugged Rose’s arm away. “You’ll just say you’re too busy, or you don’t have a place for me to stay, or that I belong with my fucking family.”

Jack watched the emotions travel across Rose’s face, watched her hurt, think, care, give up on something, decide something else. A reprieve.

He put the first batch of muffins on a plate and set out butter and jam while Rose talked Juma into the shower. “I need to talk privately to Jack,” he heard her say. “I swear to God, I will not leave without letting you know first.”

She came into the kitchen and sat down. He poured her a cup of fresh, hot tea, put a muffin on a plate, and set it before her. “Eat.”

“I have to leave,” Rose said, not looking at him, inhaling the steam from her teacup, her knee jiggling under the table. “Stop trying to make me stay.”

“What’s your rush? I told you, Violet won’t be awake.”

Rose went to the window and fingered the curtain aside. The rose flush of dawn had given way to a blue and gold morning, and a mockingbird played jay outside the window. “I don’t see why Violet would send you. She knows I can take care of myself. Why didn’t she call and tell me about you?” Her gaze flickered to his and back. “Oh. She doesn’t have my cell number. She always called me at work.”

“She just wanted me to make sure you got to her place okay. At first, I didn’t know you were the one. I was sent to find someone in a Toyota from Chicago. Eventually it became obvious, regardless of your Montana plates, that you were the woman I was looking for.” Oh, hell. A spasm of something like grief twisted his insides.

She glanced at him again. “The Toyota was too small for my stuff. I got the van from a guy who just moved from Montana. I figured I’d get new plates here.” She was back to looking out the window, tapping her foot, uneasy for all the wrong reasons. Why couldn’t she just look at him and believe him? She was one of the few people who didn’t flinch from his gaze. He liked that. A lot.

“Rose, I’d be happy to bring you over to Violet’s place later.”

“No, thanks.” She scanned the street. “She had no reason not to tell me everything. Bringing the gown early was
my
idea.”

“Does it really matter? For whatever reason, she didn’t want me to approach you.”

Rose’s eyes flew back to his and away, following the mockingbird’s retreat. “Why not?”

Jack made an impatient noise. “How should I know? She’s a vamp.” Idiot! He struggled to recover. “You have to understand, Rose, that the vampires I’ve known have been irrational and self-centered, when not downright evil. Just because you turned out to be a—”

The bathroom door opened, and Juma came out. Shit.

“A what?” At last, Rose faced him. Flushed, hurt and angry, open, still aroused, God only knew what. He ached to pull her close and smother her in kisses, because kisses would speak for him, while the words stuck in his craw.

He shook his head and went to test the second pan of muffins. “They’re done.”

“A
what?”
Rose asked again. Juma was rummaging in her backpack.

Jack set the muffin pans on the counter and turned off the oven. “Different. Not like the rest.”

Rose picked up her cup and retreated to the window again. “I guess it doesn’t matter what you were going to say.” She swallowed the rest of her tea. “What else haven’t you told me?”

I love you.

His nasty voice jumped in.
Are you insane? You hardly know the girl.

Yes, but he knew everything that mattered. She kept her promises, honored her confidences, and was a stickler for the truth.

She’s a vamp.

Hell, yes.

Are you listening to yourself? What happened to just saying no?

“What else?” Rose demanded, strong and stunning and yet so heedless.

“There’s nothing else. Since you still want to go to her place, I’d prefer to fulfill my obligation to Violet and see you safely there.”

“Your obligation is not my problem.” She set her cup on the table and left the kitchen.

He followed. “Rose, I mean it. I believe you’re in danger. Please stay here with me.” Terror for her crawled through him, up into his throat.

“No. I have to take care of this myself.” She unzipped her suitcase and took out a necktie, which she tossed to Juma. “This is the one I told you about yesterday. I can teach you how to make your own ties, if you like.”

“Damn it all, Rose,” Jack said.

She ignored him and said, “Juma, call me when you get to where you’ll be staying. I want to know that you’re okay.
We’ll set up a date to get some cool fabric and make some unique ties.”

“I guess,” Juma said sullenly.

Rose dug further in her suitcase. She took out a small pistol and dropped it in her purse. “You can stop freaking out, Jack. If any thugs happen by, I’ll be armed.”

Jack felt himself scowl. “You know how to use that?”

She rolled her eyes, slung the handbag over her shoulder, and picked up the Elizabethan gown.

Jack threw up his hands. “Fine. I’ll follow you over there.”

“And leave Juma alone?”

“She’s not a baby,” Jack said. “Why don’t you start breakfast, Juma? Grits in the pantry, bacon and butter in the fridge. I’ll be back in ten minutes to cook the eggs. Fifteen tops.”

Rose huffed and took off down the stairs. Jack grabbed the keys to his Porsche and followed.

She had to get away. She couldn’t think straight with Jack around. She couldn’t look at him without yearning to trust him. She thought he meant well, but…He was holding something back. Uneasiness suffused his voice, colored his pleas.

Not his kisses, though.

Oh, God in Heaven, it was as if he’d poured his heart and soul into those kisses. She’d kissed far too many men, but no one’s kisses spoke to her like Jack’s. Like he was talking to her and her alone, like he belonged to her alone. Not a sexual thrall, not a besotted fool—she’d had plenty of those—but a strong, dependable, passionate man.

It wasn’t just skill. She’d had men with bedroom skills. Sure, he had a talented mouth and capable hands. And aggressive! He’d pushed her so high, so fast—but that wasn’t the point. He’d brought tears to her eyes. No man had ever done that.

She didn’t give him a chance to offer to lead the way. Rather, she tore out of the alley entrance while he was still peeling the cover off his car. At the first stoplight, she pulled the map she’d printed before leaving Chicago out from the pocket in the driver’s side door. She mustn’t let his prejudices and fears affect her. Soon she would be at Violet’s place, and everything would be fine. She would have a happy customer, maybe even a new friend, and a fresh start in life.

A dark Porsche idled behind her van. Judging by the size and shape, it might be Jack’s.

In less than five minutes, she reached the purple Victorian where Violet Dupree lived. No obvious thugs lurked nearby. She puttered past the house, down the live oak-lined street and around the block past the entrance to Blood and Velvet, which shared a back alley with Violet’s house, but nothing was going on. A few cars, a school bus, a TV news van, and not much else. The club district of Bayou Gavotte slept in the morning. The Porsche had disappeared, and no one else seemed to have followed her. So much for danger.

She pulled into the driveway of Violet’s house. The purple paint was just subdued enough to be pleasant, and the offwhite trim made the house look only vaguely like a gigantic cake. A porch swing, its chains motionless, hung below the veranda rail, along which sat five ceramic pots of pansies. From behind a glossy green bush—gardenia, maybe—a gray ceramic cat peeked with sly purple eyes. Cypresses lined the walkway to the rear, and camellias hung heavy with white blossoms on either side of the front steps.