Labyrinth (14 page)

He lifted from her neck and covered a breast with his hand as he kissed her. The warmth of his mouth mingled with the gentle upward strokes of his hand. His palm edge slipped over the nipple and she gasped in pleasure. His tongue slipped into her mouth, sparring in quick thrusts. She envisioned that tongue on her clit, teasing the engorged sex from its hood, and arched against his hard length.

McNeil pushed upright, straddling her, and pulled her into a sitting position. He made quick work of the small buttons on her blouse,
then
pushed the sleeves from her shirt. He shoved aside the pink lace bra from one breast, then his head dipped, and he closed firm lips around the nipple. Pleasure streaked through her. Margot laced her fingers through his velvety soft hair and pressed him closer. He leaned forward, forcing her head back so that she arched into his mouth as he suckled harder. She moaned.

He reached between them and tugged his jeans button loose and Margot shifted her head to see white briefs bulging to perfection. McNeil lowered her onto the bed,
then
stood. He unbuttoned the starched white shirt. Her pulse quickened at sight of the broad, tanned chest. He sloughed off the shirt, then pulled his wallet from his back pocket and produced a condom from within the leather.

“No need,” Margot said.

He looked at her.

“I’ve used protection since I was seventeen.” He blinked and she almost thought he looked scared. Margo lifted her brows. “You’re not going to stop now, are you?”

 He grinned and tossed the wallet and condom onto the corner chair, then shoved the jeans from his hips. His eyes held hers as he grasped the waistband of the underwear and shoved them down.

The long, thick shaft pointed to the ceiling, swollen and glistening with pre-cum. She could practically hear a
yes ma’am
. McNeil dropped the briefs to his ankles,
then
stepped out of them and onto the bed. He undid the button on her slacks and she lifted her hips as he tugged them down her legs. He paused, dropped a kiss on the tiny square of thong that pretended to hide her curls, then pulled the pants off and tossed them onto the corner chair.

He straddled her, and she braced for his weight. Instead, he leaned forward, gently kissed her lips, then trailed his moist mouth down her chin, along her neck, and to her breasts. Margot arched into his mouth and he took a nipple inside. A warm palm covered her stomach, and a quiver rippled through her when he slid his hand downward until brushing the curls. He slipped a finger beneath the tiny triangle of fabric and into her folds. Her body tightened with anticipation.

The finger plunged inside. Margot pulsed in several quick bursts. Pleasure rocketed to her core. He released her nipple. She laced fingers into his hair in an effort to pull him back, but his warm mouth made contact with her stomach and began working downward. Her flesh quivered when he slid across the sensitive area at her waist. He didn’t stop, his finger still fucking her as he pressed kisses downward to the edge of her mound. McNeil breathed deep,
then
released the breath, the warm air filtering through the lace of the thong across her swollen pussy lips.

He closed his mouth over her sex through the lace and sucked. Margot cried out. Pleasure crested with the intensity of a sudden rainstorm. She jammed shut her eyes. All thought fled and the approaching orgasm burst through her with the thundering of her heart.

Margot bowed off the bed like a young sapling yanked in the wind.
“Oh-my-God.”
She groaned and collapsed back onto the mattress.

McNeil came down on top of her and thrust inside with a single mighty stroke. The orgasm intensified. He shoved his fingers through her hair and kissed her long and hard, his thrusts picking up speed. Margot wrapped arms and legs around him and held on tight as he drove into her channel. Her walls tightened around him and this orgasm felt as though it would reach to her core. His warm palm covered her breast. She cried out when he brushed a thumb over her nipple.

He slammed into her. Her body tensed as he gave a deep groan.
Take that,
Colin Morrison,
she telepathed as McNeil thrust again. He locked his arms around her, crushing her against his solid chest, then thrust most slowly, then slowly again, then one, last time before collapsing on top of her.

Chapter Thirteen

The clock in Cat’s office struck a single gong in the early morning darkness. Margot’s hand jerked as she tapped the left button of the mouse connected to Cat’s computer. Colin Morrison’s picture loading on the brightly lit screen provided the only light in the dark office. Despite leaving McNeil only an hour ago, she hadn’t been able to get the memory of the Scottish lord’s dark eyes out of her head.

She drew in a sharp breath. A hint of disdain had crept into his expression. Margot leaned closer. That arrogance hadn’t been there when she saw the picture yesterday afternoon.
Ridiculous.
Tales of killer ghosts along with her obsession to prove Cat’s guilt had worked her imagination. She must have run out of the office before getting a good look at the picture and simply hadn’t noticed the hauteur. There was the dream she’d had the night before…the dream she had recalled while watching Cat and Williams together. The way Colin had pressed Margot against the wall had been rough, and tinged with a sense of restrained malice, now that she thought about it.

Cruelty was something she didn’t tolerate. She wanted strength, a man who knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it.
A man like Charles McNeil.
So why had she conjured Colin in his rougher version? She hadn’t created him that way that first night, despite his sarcasm—or this afternoon. She smiled at the warning he’d given in her first dream,
“You’ll return from whence you came, if you have any sense about you—and quickly.”

Freud would say it was sexual. He’d be right. Warmth spread through her at the recollection of his mouth on her. Margot stilled. In all her years in law enforcement, her pursuit of a criminal—a killer—hadn’t evoked such a fantasy life. Her pulse quickened. She didn’t want the dreams, the fantasy lover, to end. Sweet Christ, what the hell was going on with her?

She straightened and shifted her gaze to the picture. Desire vanished and she grimaced. His contempt probably fueled the rumors about the ghost of Lord Colin Morrison feeding on women. She closed the window, pulled up the hidden files she’d found earlier, and went to work.

Twenty minutes later, Margot copied the fifth of the eight files from the computer onto her Blackberry. She hadn’t been able to open them. Cat’s codes could stump an amateur like her, but Bobby would break them in seconds. The file copied, and she grabbed the next one and dragged it to the Blackberry window. Something scraped across the floor behind her. Margot yanked her head toward the sound. Behind the armor, in the left corner of the alcove, a tiny seam of light shone from floor to ceiling.

She squinted. What the—
a secret passageway
. And it was opening! Margot grabbed the mouse, and hit the button to close out the Blackberry window. The scraping grew louder and a sliver of light struck the desk beside her. She closed the hidden files window and yanked the retractable USB cord from the computer. The cord snapped back into the case with an audible snap as Margot dropped to the floor.

She scrambled under the desk and hugged the Blackberry to her breasts as she pressed into the corner. If Cat was returning for another
tryst
with Franklin Williams, Margot would shoot herself. The door swung fully inward. Cat stood in the entrance. Margot’s pulse jumped. On a desk behind Cat sat a laptop.
A hidden computer.

She was an idiot. She’d wondered where secrets would be kept in a three hundred year old Scottish castle, but hadn’t considered a hidden room. Some cop she was. This was one mistake she’d never recount to the boys back home. Cat stepped from the secret room and half a dozen flickering white candles on a silver tray came into view on a table to the computer’s right.

Margot’s blood chilled. The candles illuminated a small, white doll dressed in a pale blue dress that leaned against a silver box in front of the candles. Hair made of thin strips of white paper hung to the doll’s shoulders. Black eyes and a red, heart-shaped mouth were clearly visible on its face even across the thirty feet that separated Margot from the doll. White netting tied with white ribbon around the doll’s waist surrounded it. Margot froze at sight of the purple pin on the doll’s breast. She’d seen this doll, that pin, back home.

The overhead light went out, but Margot’s gaze remained glued on the doll, its tiny face illuminated by flickering candlelight. Her chest tightened. The clock chimed. Margot clamped a hand over her mouth, barely stifling a cry. A second chime followed, then silence. That damned clock would get her killed.

Cat edged around the armor and stepped from the alcove onto the carpet. She pressed a finger against a stone to the right of the alcove, and the door began a slow swing closed. Cat faced the desk and Margot tensed. If Cat sat down at the desk and stretched her legs, they would hit her. Cat walked around the desk and passed out of sight. The pad of feet on carpet paused, and the door opened with the barest of creaks. Another low creak followed, then the click of the lock.

Margot counted to ten,
then
scrambled from beneath the desk. She took two steps to the alcove and paused. A sweet aroma lingered in the air.
Perfume?
No, it was more like incense—or the scented oil used to cast spells.

She felt along the wall where she’d seen Cat press the button that had closed the door. A smooth spot the size of a dime caught her attention and she pressed it. The door began a slow swing inward until the doll came into view.

Candlelight flickered in the draft, and two black eyes stared as if the doll welcomed any challenger who dared enter her realm. Margot sidled past the armor and into the room. She groped along the left wall until she located a light switch and flipped it on. Light flooded the room and she crossed to the table. Behind the candles lay a black, fabric bag tied with a piece of string. A black feather stuck out of the bag.

Revenge gris-gris.

Disgust turned her stomach and Margot set the Blackberry on the desk beside the computer. She started to sit at the chair,
then
stopped. What had Cat used to make the
gris
gris
? Margot picked up the bag, tugged open the top, and peered inside. Anger tightened her mouth. No benign new-ager herbs, oils, or stones for Cat. No. A true southern voodoo witch laughed at such
magic
. Cat had used the backwater
Louisiana
variety of contents: hair, bones, nails and—Margot fingered the bottom of the bag and discerned something through the fabric that felt like dirt.
A chill coiled deep inside—
goofer dust
; grave dirt—if the dirt was consistent with the other
magical items
.

Who had pissed Cat off? 

Margot retied the string and set the bag back behind the candles, then picked up the Dream Doll. She rubbed a thumb across the heart shaped mouth, then down along the purple straight pin attached to the doll’s breast. Different color pins were believed to induce different kinds of dreams. Purple evoked psychic dreams. She recalled the three dreams in the last two days. What reason did Cat have for using voodoo on her? 

Margot grimaced. Damn voodoo dolls didn’t have the power to induce dreams. But that fact didn’t change Cat’s belief in the magic. So what revenge was she exacting, and why? Margot’s pulse accelerated. Had Cat used voodoo on Donny? Hell yes, she’d used voodoo, the most powerful voodoo a woman had: lust.

Margot placed the doll back on the table. “You shouldn’t have invited me to
Scotland
, Cat.”

Chapter Fourteen

Margot stared at the computer screen. Cat had stepped off a cliff and was plummeting a thousand miles an hour into the abyss of insanity. Spells, ghosts, and the search for a treasure that made the Holy Grail look like child’s play. The Scottish Templar armor in the alcove connecting the two rooms was real—had to be real. But the modest fortune the armor would bring wasn’t enough for Cat. She wanted the entire Templar fortune—and believed a ghost would lead her to it.