A Taste of Love and Evil (3 page)

She huffed and left the money where it was.

“Not everybody’s terrified of vampires,” she said, holding the door open and shoving the cart through. “Some people actually like them.”

Jack clamped down on a retort, wondering if he really heard bitterness and uncertainty in her voice. She had called him a jerk, and with good reason. His manners were deserting him at every turn.

From across the hall, the chambermaid asked, “Were you talking to me, ma’am?” Jack shut down everything he could and blended even more.

“No, just my invisible friend,” Rose said. “There’s a five in my room for you.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said the maid. “Everybody else left so fast they forgot to tip me.”

“Thank my invisible friend,” called Rose, already halfway down the hall.

In the elevator, she said conversationally, “I once dressed as a nun for a Halloween party, and the guys still swarmed over me like wasps on a jam jar.”

Jack said nothing.

“When I flaunt it, a lot of them are intimidated. Those who aren’t, I get rid of however I can.” Rose paused. “Not that I care whether you believe me.”

That’s a lie,
Jack realized, surprised again. He held himself still as she checked out of the hotel, narrowing his eyes to slits, but he could still see her long, bare legs, and her heady aroma harassed his nostrils almost beyond bearing.

She’s just sulking,
he told himself,
because I’m not all over her. That must be it.

Rose hurried the luggage cart through the parking lot. It was only a few hours’ drive to Bayou Gavotte. Unfortunately, she couldn’t wash her hands of this grumpy vamp hater until tomorrow, because of the supplies Miles was sending. She didn’t need them, but she couldn’t purposely waste Miles’s money any more than she could have sat back and let Titania steal the Elizabethan gown. Once the costume was delivered to Violet Dupree and paid for, she’d explain to Miles and return the unneeded supplies.

Not surprisingly, most of the hotel guests had cleared out in a hurry. No silver Cadillacs, thank God. Only an old Chevy pickup, a shiny white Lincoln, and the thug with the ponytail propped against a black SUV, smoking a cigarette and staring at the sky. Inside the SUV, a girl slumped against the window frame and sulked.

“You’re a stinking sadist, Stevie,” she griped through the open window. “That’s all I have to say.” She wiggled her fingers at Rose, who gave her a tight little smile in return.

“Does that mean you’ll shut up now, Juma?” Stevie blew three lazy smoke rings.

“The least you could do is listen to my side of the story, but you’re like every other grown-up in the whole stupid world. Nobody gives a crap about me,” Juma said.

“Watch your language, girl. Your grandma won’t want to hear you were cussing. Or that you were hitting on me. I might not tell her that one if you shut the fuck up.”

“You wouldn’t tell her that!” Juma shrieked. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“No telling what I might do if I get pissed off,” Stevie said, his eyes now on Rose. She kept her head down and tried to suck up all her allure and bury it somewhere deep inside. Not that it had ever worked before, and this man, by the look of him, wouldn’t be easily intimidated.
I’m an idiot,
she thought.
This guy would notice anyone showing skin.
Why had she let Jack get to her?

“Well, well.” Stevie handed Juma the cigarette.

Juma cursed and tossed the cigarette after him. Rose pushed the cart quickly around the far side of her van and slid open the side door.

Stevie was right behind her. “Little lady like you needs a strong man to help with those heavy bags.”

Rose slapped at his paw, which was already reaching for the larger suitcase. “Thanks, but I’m not little and I don’t need your help.”

He had a hard, country-boy face and a firm, stocky body. He grinned and grabbed the suitcase. “Sure you do.”

Damn! She needed to get him away from the cart so Jack could get inside the van. “All right, then.” She led him around the back and opened the double doors, scanning the dress dummy and the plastic tubs of fabric, relieved that they concealed the rear of the entire bench seat.
Quick, Jack, get inside!
“Just put it there. I appreciate it.”

Stevie was already way too turned on. He stowed the suitcase and said, “Gimme a thank-you kiss, baby.”

“No way!” Rose made a show of rearranging bum rolls and a bundle of steel hoops to make room for the other suitcase. Not a sound came from the luggage cart except Jack’s soft, slow breathing. Why didn’t he get on with it?

Meanwhile, Stevie was breathing down her neck. She elbowed him away. “I meant what I said. Beat it.”

“Not till you give me what I want.” He pressed his firm
body with its correspondingly firm erection against her butt.

“Beat it, creep.” Rose shoved backward, but Stevie didn’t budge. Neither did Jack.
Get in the van, you fool!

The thug nuzzled her neck. “You’re so hot, baby.”

“Stevie,” piped up the girl in the SUV, “my grandma won’t want to hear about this.”

“Shut up, Juma.” The thug’s nasty mitt crawled toward Rose’s breast.

Rose knocked it away and squirmed aside. “In a parking lot? You’re out of your mind.” He was, of course. That’s what her allure did to guys, but it was her own fault he’d gotten so hot so fast. She’d gradually become better at controlling her allure, but anger always made it stronger, and she was still way too pissed off at Jack.

Stevie grabbed her arm. “Plenty of room in your van, if you don’t like an audience. Come on, honey, you know you want me. I’m irresistible.”

No, I am.
And the longer he stayed this close, the stronger his need would grow and the harder it would be to fight him off.

“I’ll tell your mama on you, Stevie!” Juma yelled.

Rose twisted her head to avoid the thug’s attempts to kiss her, barely keeping her fangs at bay. “Let me go, or you’ll regret it.”

“I
need
you.” He’d reached the desperate stage, and because Rose was listening for Jack, her concentration was off, so before she got her knee anywhere near Stevie’s nuts, he had her plastered against the back of the van. “You
can’t
say no to me now.”

Finally,
finally
she heard movement from the luggage cart, and then Juma, bless her, hit the horn in the SUV over and over and over again.

“Shut the fuck up, Juma,” Stevie roared, his fly already open, ripping at Rose’s shorts.

“I’m warning you,” Rose panted, writhing away from his groping hand. Her fangs slotted down. “Get off me, or I’ll tear you to pieces.”

But Stevie was blinded by lust and didn’t hear, didn’t see what was coming next.

Fortunately, Random Jack did. “Don’t,” he said to her. His fist connected right below Stevie’s ear. The tough landed with a thud on the tarmac.

The girl in the SUV hooted and hollered. “Nice one, dude. Where’d you spring from?”

“Thank you,” Rose said furiously, pulling her shorts together. “If you’d gotten into the van when you were supposed to, it wouldn’t have come to this.”

“If you hadn’t insisted on wearing next to nothing,” Jack retorted, “he wouldn’t have attacked you.” He took hold of one of Stevie’s arms. Rose grabbed the other, and together they dragged Stevie’s unconscious body onto the grassy verge of the parking lot behind the SUV.

“That is so unfair of you,” Rose said.

Jack didn’t reply. He removed a small pistol from inside Stevie’s jacket, stuffed it into the waist of his jeans, and led the way to the open side of the van. He grabbed the smaller suitcase with his good arm and slung it into the van.

“Hey!” Juma called. “What about me?”

“I was distracting him to protect you,” Rose said. She hung the garment bag inside the van, then separated the bodice and skirt and hung them as well. “I would have fended him off just fine if you hadn’t waited and waited and
waited
until it was too late.”

“Right.” Jack rolled his eyes. He tossed the tackle box into the van.

“You are the rudest, most obnoxious, most ungrateful criminal I have ever met in my entire life.”

“I’m not a criminal. You are.”

Rose gaped. “I certainly am not!”

Jack took the mantle off the cart. “What about this?” He hung it up and motioned to the gown. “And this?”

Rose flushed. “I—It’s none of your business. If you’re not a criminal, why are those thugs after you?” She slid the side door shut.

“Hey!” Juma pounded the horn in the SUV. “Come back here! Help!
Help!”

“I don’t know.” Jack slammed the back doors as well and sent the luggage cart along the curb. “What the hell is wrong with that girl?”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Rose said, but Jack was already at the SUV.

“Stop screeching,” he told Juma, and then said softly, “Jesus Christ.”

Juma yanked on the handcuffs that attached her to the steering wheel.

“Don’t do that!” The tall, redheaded woman looked over the guy’s shoulder. She had a kind face. “You’re bleeding.”

“Where are the keys?” the guy asked.

Juma told him. “In the pocket of Stevie’s jeans.”

The guy went around the back of the car.

“Thanks for all the honking and hollering,” the woman said. “I’m Rose, by the way. Was he saving you for later?”

Juma shuddered. “Stevie and me? God, no. He just didn’t want me to get away.”

“No kidding. What does he want with you, then?”

“He’s taking me home. Back to hairdressing hell,” Juma said. Oh, crap. Why had she blurted out the truth? They’d never go for anything so lame.

The guy returned, jangling the keys, and opened the car door. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen.” Reflex; it was what she always said. Another mistake.

The guy had harsh eyes. Nothing else about him jumped
out at you, but those eyes were like weapons. “No, you’re not,” he said flatly.

No point bullshitting this dude, especially since he had the handcuff keys. “Oh, all right, I’m sixteen. What difference does it make? I can leave home if I want.”

He unlocked the cuffs. “Just don’t lie to me.” Then he and Rose said in unison, “You’d better come with me.” They stared at one another for a long, weird second or two, and then Rose took Juma’s suitcase and backpack while the guy ripped a cable and a couple of belts out from under the hood and locked the keys inside the SUV.

“Where are you going?” Juma asked.

“Bayou Gavotte,” Rose said. “Does that work for you?”

“Sure,” Juma said. “That’s great. Thanks.” It couldn’t possibly be that simple, but she’d take what she could get. She settled into the passenger seat of the van, a tacky yellow piece of junk she’d normally never be seen dead in. Never mind that Stevie lived in Bayou Gavotte now; he wouldn’t expect her to be there, and anything was better than being dragged back home to the boonies. She took the tissue Rose held out and cleaned the blood off her wrist.

“You’re going to leave Stevie lying on the ground?” Rose said.

“Why not?” The guy sounded slow now, as if he were drunk or on drugs.

“Jack, lie down on the bench seat.” Rose stuffed the reddish gold embroidered cloak and the fabulous costume with the snake on the sleeve inside a big canvas bag to make room for him. “You need to rest, and you’re probably dehydrated.” She gave him a bottle of apple juice and a pillow, slammed the side door shut again, and came around to the driver’s door.

“Does he have the flu or something?” Juma asked.

“Or something.” Rose backed the van out and took off through the parking lot just as an elderly couple trundled out the side door with their suitcases, headed for the white
Lincoln. Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror as she wheeled the van hard right toward the exit. “Shit.”

Immediately, Jack sat up. “What?”

“Lie down,” Rose said again. “You’ll be useless if you don’t rest. I can take care of things.”

“I need to know what things you’re taking care of,” Jack said.

Rose huffed. “The white car a few spaces from the SUV is parked nose out. When the people who own it go around the back to open the trunk, they’ll see Stevie. People notice bright yellow vans. If they saw me driving away, they might connect us with him.” She blew out a breath. “I hope they get him medical care.”

Juma couldn’t believe it. “Even though he tried to rape you?”

Rose hunched a shoulder. “He didn’t succeed.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Juma said. “Plus, he handcuffed me to the steering wheel.”

“That burns me up a lot more than him messing with me.” Rose accelerated along the on-ramp and hit the interstate. “It’s too cold to leave someone lying unconscious on the ground.”

“He deserves it,” Jack said, and lay back down with the pillow over his head.

“I agree,” Juma said. “You’re way too softhearted.” And therefore easier to suck up to. “But thank you
so
much for rescuing me. I really mean it.”

“Sure.” After a pause, Rose said brightly, “Tell me about hairdressing hell.”

Me
and my big mouth.
But Rose seemed safe enough, and nice, apart from her grooming. Juma could forgive her unpolished nails, but as for the way she’d yanked her ponytail back into place…Ugh. Split ends, too, and her clothes were classic Wal-Mart. Still, something about Rose felt reassuring.

“It’s boring.” Juma grimaced. “Tell me about that amazing costume in the back.”

Rose started, frowning. “What about it?”

“It’s gorgeous, like out of
Shakespeare in Love.
The snake on the sleeve is awesome!”

Rose had an absolutely lovely smile. “It’s a replica of one worn by Elizabeth the First.”

“The Rainbow
Portrait,”
Jack said.

Rose glanced at him over her shoulder, a tiny crease between her eyebrows, then faced the road again. “That’s right.”

“Elizabeth as Astraea, the celestial virgin, aka Lady Justice,” Jack said. “The serpent represents wisdom.”

Rose said nothing.

“Are you going to make the headdress, too?” he went on. “And the wings?”

“Yes,” Rose said, her tone clipped.

Juma gaped. “You
made
it? Whoa!”

“I make period costumes for a living,” Rose said. “I’m delivering it to a customer in Bayou Gavotte.”

“How fabulous,” Juma said. “I love history.” My
big mouth again.
But Rose was cool, eyes on the road, and in spite of the hair and clothing, she didn’t look like she thought education was a waste of time. Jack must have
loved
school, to remember such obscure stuff.

Juma leaned back, wondering what she would do when they reached Bayou Gavotte. Stevie had found her a week after she’d run away to New Orleans, a month ago. He’d found her at a friend’s place in Baton Rouge at three o’clock this morning after only one day away from home. Sooner or later he would find her again. When he did, he’d be more pissed off than ever. Not that she was all that worried about Stevie. He might tattle, but he wouldn’t hurt her, because he was more scared of Grandma than she was.

Juma slid her hand into her jacket pocket and caressed
the book of poetry her dad had given her for her birthday. Dad slipped her the coolest books, and Grandma hadn’t found this one yet. Time to start memorizing it, because…

No. She would not let Grandma find her. She’d get to keep her books from now on.

“About hairdressing hell. Besides boring.” Rose showed nothing but kindly interest, but so did a lot of adults—and then they betrayed you.

Still, Juma had to tell her something. “My grandmother wants me to go to beauty school and be a hairdresser like her. I refuse. End of story.”