Final Cut Miami Voodoo You Love? (5 page)

As she edged through the doorway, he hid his smile of satisfaction, laying back and praying her dormant Siberian would do its part. Sure enough, she edged closer to the cot, sitting on the edge of it. She glanced at him, and then at the file on the floor.

“Would you like to know what I discovered these past couple days?” He knew she was intrigued more by the vampire than by Chloe, but he was sticking to his original plan and holding that part back. He raised his knees and without really noticing what she was doing, Coco leaned back to rest against his legs. He watched her profile, struck at how delicate her features were. It was incongruous beneath her mop of hair. His throat grew tight with emotion. His tiger was deeply distressed by the condition of his mate.

He was too. She was undernourished and dressed on cast-off rags. Under the cloud of dementia, her mind was sharp. She was already nibbling at the bait in the file.

“This lawyer, Chloe O’Shea, she’s good. One of the best. A couple years back, she won a big case against a major corporation which had financed a bunch of condos that were structurally flawed. Initially I thought that was the reason she’d vanished. But try as I might, I found only negligence on the part of the company; no criminal ties.”

She stared down at her hands, but Antonio could see she was listening.

“She had other cases as well, but this was the big one. And it was only a few months after this case ended that she began to tie up loose ends in her life. It was subtle. Most of her co-workers didn’t realize just what she was doing. It wasn’t until months had passed that they realized she’d behaved like a person who intended to leave… forever.”

“You think she killed herself?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. But I think Chloe O’Shea is gone. Maybe she’ll come back, when it’s safe.” He reached out and slipped a band from her snarled hair, beginning to untangle it from the ends. They weren’t true, groomed dreadlocks, but rather the result of neglect. Still, it would take hours of care to fix the mess.

“How will she know it’s safe?” The look she gave him was full of pain and confusion.

“You tell me.” He studied her face in the dim light, watching as she did her best to piece together the mystery. “Do you remember what happened? Was it sudden, or did it build up over time?”

“I don’t know. I just… I was on the beach with the water swirling around my ankles. I was sunburned and my hair was all matted. My clothes were filthy. As soon as I felt water, my mind cleared.” She didn’t move, content to let him work at her hair. “When I went to the shore for help, I got… confused. I forgot everything I’d just remembered.”

“Do you remember any of your other cases? Or anyone who might have hurt you?”

She was silent for a while. When she answered, he had trouble hearing her. “I remember a couple smaller cases. They were farmed out to other attorneys since I was wrapped up in the Smithfield property case.”

He smiled in satisfaction. She was coming around and his little crazy Coco was indeed Chloe O’Shea. A call to Jasper confirmed that “two” eyes indicated she had bi-eyes, a common trait in Siberians. Now what? Did he drag her back to her life, possibly traumatizing her further, or did he trust her tenuous sanity and involve her in the case? They had two cases, actually: hers and Gracie’s defense.

“So what’s the deal with the vampire?”

She was finished talking about herself, and in his opinion, Coco had earned her treat.

“How are you at defense?”

“It’s not my specialty at the firm, but I did a couple years on rotation as a public defender. I’m… I was pretty good.” She turned her head slightly, letting him see her charming profile. For a moment, he could only look, drinking in her magical features. Would she be this charming if she wasn’t his mate? Irrelevant. He’d been around the great beauties of the world and none had an ounce of her charisma. No doubt her personality contributed to her success in the courtroom.

“Good. Then you know the routine. Well, our little vampire is a baby. She was turned and her maker split the scene without teaching her the ropes. According to her, she was doing the best she could and ran afoul of an amateur monster hunter. She took him down and got arrested in the process. He survived, but is willing to testify against her. There was a drained body with her prints on it.”

She twisted slightly, looking back at Antonio. He wondered if she noticed his hard-on. Since her Siberian was faded, she probably couldn’t scent his arousal. That bothered him. There was so much they could say without words, but she couldn’t “hear” him.

“That’s self-defense. The prints are circumstantial.”

“True, but we can’t leave her in jail much longer. She can’t afford a long trial.”

“Well, just let me get our fearless vampire slayer on the stand. He won’t stand a chance once I start asking him questions about all the things that go bump in the night.”

Antonio smiled at her renewed interest. Unfortunately, he doubted her newfound lucidity would last long. He’d talked to her friends here on the beach and all agreed, she had a fairly tenuous grip on reality. Again, bittersweet sadness overtook him, causing his tiger to shake its head angrily. As far as the animal was concerned, she was healthy, but… troubled. It was very distressed. He wondered about that. The animal was rarely wrong. Was this a performance of some sort? He reached out and pulled the file from her hands.

“Jedidiah has decided the case won’t go to trial. She’ll plead guilty.”

“What? But I can…” She looked down at herself, taking in the ragged clothing. Coco didn’t look back up at him. “She won’t survive prison. And there’s a very good chance she’ll be exposed.”

“After sentencing, she’ll be transferred to prison. Somewhere along the route, she and her paperwork will go astray. There’s a small community of vampires in Canada who are willing to take her in. She’ll receive a new ID, and the mentorship and training she needs.”

She nodded but didn’t respond. For several minutes, they sat quietly there in the little shed, listening to the sound of the ocean under the floor. When she spoke, she didn’t look at Antonio. “Am I crazy?”

He wanted to lie, to tell her she was just frightened and confused. He wanted to tell Chloe her animal would return and all would be well. But this was his mate and oddly enough, the warm feeling in his chest told him more than his brain ever would. He loved her. Desperately. And he was afraid. “I don’t know, Chloe, but we’ll work together and make you better, if that’s possible.”

She looked at him then, tears bright in her mismatched eyes. “Thank you.” She turned and rested her chin against his knees.

Chapter Seven

How silly was this? A big, scary-ass man -- no, a big, scary-ass
tiger
was the first comfort Coco had known for months. She’d been scrambling along on her own, dodging starvation, homelessness and the everyday peril of the streets for so long she could barely imagine anything else. Now this big, dark, extremely pretty man was making her feel safe.

He was making her feel something else too, and she was incredibly glad she’d showered and brushed her teeth. He kept tugging at her mass of damp hair, picking the snarls apart one bit at a time, his hand occasionally brushing the skin of her neck. Every time, she shivered at his touch. She closed her eyes and savored his scent. She’d lost the acute sense of smell her husky had possessed, but she could still appreciate the magic of cologne mingling with the warm fragrance of Antonio. When his large hand slipped around to cradle her chin, her skin prickled.

“I can’t
not
touch you, Chloe.” His hand cupped her throat and he tilted her head back, gazing down into her eyes. He then brushed a gentle kiss on her lips. Deep inside, fear stirred, but she didn’t panic. Antonio was big, intimidating and dangerous. More dangerous than anyone she could recall meeting. But he’d never hurt her. Ever. The tight knot that had taken residence in her chest began to loosen. Her stagnant heart began to beat once again. She went soft, accepting, letting him take the lead and assert himself. Would it hurt to accept some comfort from him? The little uneasy voice that had whispered caution was suspiciously absent. And Coco knew she was already in too deep.

With a bit of maneuvering, Antonio had them both out of their clothes, and just a bit more maneuvering had her on her back, looking up at him as the tiger ran gentle hands over the curves of her body. When he followed with a rough tongue, she shivered. The first time had been crazy and impulsive; wildly out of control. It had been a feral, mindless mating.

“Oh shit,” she whispered. Antonio paused, looking at her curiously. “We mated.” He smiled, and to her surprise, she saw his face in the dim light. Was her night vision returning? “That’s why you’re being so nice to me.”

He ducked his head, sharply nipping her hip. Her spine curved and she bucked. “Was that nice?” Coco gasped as he nuzzled, and then nipped again, one hand cupping a breast, his hot, not-so-nice mouth journeying to her other breast. He bit her nipple and then soothed it with a long, deliberate lick.

“Okay… maybe not so nice…” She yipped as sharp teeth bore down on her over-stimulated skin.

“I-I don’t really get into pain…” She panted, waiting in anticipation for the next stroke, the next bite. Instead, a big hand parted her thighs; a gentle finger parted her folds, sliding through the slick moisture there. Wordlessly, he brought up his hand, and by the shining fluid on his fingers, she certainly did get into pain -- at least the pain he was administering so skillfully. He carried his finger to her lips, painting them with her own juice. He then bent down and licked her clean. When he was finished, Antonio slipped his finger into her mouth, and she obediently sucked. His golden-brown eyes burned with dark heat.

“You need nipple clamps.” As if to prove his point, his mouth latched on again, sucking, nibbling and licking until she was ready to scream. As she started to struggle, Antonio pinned her hands over her head, holding her in place with astounding ease. The nipple torture did funny things to Coco’s entire body. Her skin buzzed, and her back bowed, her pussy reaching… He ran a finger inside her body, finding and applying merciless pressure to her g-spot.

“Ah…” she gasped, doing her best to buck up against his hand. “Oh… damn…” Try as she might, he wouldn’t allow her to stimulate her clit. She felt impaled, suspended in a limbo of need and fullness and mind-bending heat. He pulled his hand down a bit, added another finger and returned to her g-spot.

Coco panted, her eyes wide, arms pinned, and she shuddered, feeling the pressure radiate through her pelvis.

“Come for me, Coco,” he commanded.

She shook her head in frustration. She was too far gone, and yet needed more. She needed friction, which he denied. She needed his cock, which was tantalizing her, long and solid and so swollen with excitement.

“Come…” His fingers began to move then, just slightly, still maintaining the pressure that was making her so crazy with need. She struggled against his grip, arching, trying to fuck his fingers. When she could take no more, he let go of her hands, pressing his palm flat down on her lower belly. Lights flashed behind her eyes and all she could hear was the static of white noise. She was only vaguely aware of his voice as he praised her.

Coco’s entire body clenched, convulsed, wracking her with an orgasmic wave that rushed through her and didn’t recede, not as long as Antonio worked her g-spot. He began to fuck her with his finger, and he finally bent to her body, his warm mouth enfolding her clit, starting the cascading orgasm once again. Through partially opened eyes, she watched him in amazement, seeing his cock draw up tightly to his body. Without so much as a touch, he climaxed, his milky seed spattering to the rough wooden floor.

She opened her mouth to scream, yet nothing came out but a strangled cry. As she fell back to the bed, drained and stunned, Antonio slumped forward, his dark head resting on her lower belly. She let her eyes drop closed and reached out, stroking his silky hair. They lay quietly, listening to the water lapping around the pilings under the floor. Her belly cramped with residual spasms and the scent of their combined release mingled in the briny air.

They both breathed hard, and when he rolled his head to look up at her, Antonio’s face held an expression that both frightened and thrilled her. He looked worshipful and possessive. With a flutter of apprehension, she suddenly remembered her brother’s demon boss and his tigers. They weren’t mated to him, but he was
theirs
. She was trapped.

* * *

Coco stepped away from the curtained off fitting room at the back of the board shop, neglecting to lift the long hem of the halter dress she wore. She tripped and Antonio had her steady before she realized she was about to go down. He heard a chuckle at the front of the store; the owner was enjoying his impulsive shopping spree with the resident squatter.

He’d talked to the man before going back into Coco’s little hut earlier. Dave Riley had opened the shop some months earlier and had found the little woman sleeping on the dock in the boathouse. She’d been filthy, exhausted and hungry.

Riley had struck a deal with the little homeless woman. She performed a few menial chores in exchange for a safe place to sleep and access to the shower and bathroom. He also made sure she never ran out of sports drinks and protein bars. She wouldn’t accept anything else. Riley had also noticed the odd shift in her personality; when she was in the water, Coco was almost normal. The rest of the time, she was mad as a hatter.

Critically, Antonio eyed the dress. It was long; the bright blue and white floral print looked spectacular on her tanned skin. The halter top showed off her rounded breasts and tiny waist. He worried about her tripping herself up in it, but shrugged. She was a walking disaster anyway.

“Do you like it, Chloe?”

She moved to the mirror and studied herself. She nodded. As he’d expected, she’d slipped into near aphasia and was painfully aware of it. If his guess was correct, the further they got from the ocean, the more she’d slip into the silly madness he’d first seen in her. He handed her another dress, this one was short and she was less likely to trip herself up in it, though he loved seeing her in the flowing cotton halter dress. She stepped back into the curtained cubicle.