Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy (15 page)

He thrust harder but still too careful
to accomplish what I needed. “More. Really beg me,
Brandilynn.”

“Please, Sir. I want it. I want it so
bad it hurts. Please, I’ll do anything you want, just please,
please let me come.”

I nearly sobbed with agony. He drew it
out, the selfish pig, enjoying my torment. It almost made me want
to curse him with all kinds of filthy profanities. If he’d just do
it…

“Pleeeease…”

Tristan grasped the backs of my hips
and rammed himself in as far as he could. Again. And again. The
explosion bloomed, a thousand thermonuclear devices detonating all
at once, mushroom clouds billowing to decimate every cell of my
being, leaving me a wasteland. White hot pulses ignited over and
over, rupturing all in their path, ripping my world wide
open.

When my brain began to re-assert
itself, I still thrashed in the eddies of aftershock, my body
twisting in the throes of the greatest, most profound, mindblowing
big ‘O’ I’d ever had. Jeez Louise. If I’d been alive, I think it
would have killed me.

But what a way to go.

I lay flat on my back on the desk,
having apparently lost all ability to keep myself upright went the
shockwave hit. Tristan stood over me, gasping with his head thrown
back. It must have been good for him too.

Finally the rumbles within my
overwrought body quieted enough for me to be able to lay still,
weak as a plate of spaghetti. Tristan’s head lolled forward and he
looked at me with a cat’s self-satisfied grin.

“Let’s do that again. Soon.”

“Give me time to recover from this one.
Like a year or so.”

He laughed and pulled free. I hated to
feel him go, but he sat on the desk next to me, picked me up and
cuddled me on his lap. A good trade. I snuggled into the hollow of
his shoulder with a happy sigh.

I’d heard sex while giving blood to a
vampire was the most incredible lovemaking of all, but I couldn’t
imagine any physical sensation being more intense than what we’d
just had. I just had to ask. “What kind of lover are you as a
vampire?”

He kissed my forehead. “Probably no
better, though the glamour no doubt makes it feel otherwise. Being
bitten by a vampire gets some victims off without sex.”

“I wonder if my attacker had sex with
me.” The though erased almost all the good feelings I had, and I
shuddered. “I’m not sure I’d want to remember that.”

Tristan hugged me tight to his
wonderful body and kissed my forehead again. “I’m sorry to push
you, but we really need to know.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is this
business with the vampire serial killer hurting your political
aspirations?”

Tristan nodded. “You are a smart girl.
I’ve been accused of trying to cover up the killer’s identity by my
political opponents. The idea is getting a foothold in the
county.”

“I guess that comes with the territory.
You are the vampire leader of this community.” I regarded him. With
his GQ good looks, he was such a pleasure to look at. “Is it true
you’re planning to eventually run for president of the United
States?”

Tristan snorted and found something
else to look at. “That’s a rather lofty goal, seeing how vampires
have only been able to vote for the last thirty years.”

I ran a fingertip over his jawline. I
had fallen into the old routine of good conversation that made a
client happy after sex. My clients always appreciated that as much,
if not more, than my ability to get them off. I didn’t have to do
it anymore, but old habits die harder than we do,
apparently.

“Some of my clients have said if
there’s a para who could pull off getting into the White House,
it’s you.”

Tristan kept his expression and tone
noncommittal, but I detected the pleasure in his eyes. “The
community leaders here think Fulton Falls is a bigger deal than it
is.”

I grinned. “I got that from Congressman
Fletcher last time he passed through.”

Tristan looked at me in surprised
delight. “My, my, Miss Payson, you do have quite the clientele.” He
mused out loud, “So George is that impressed with me.”

From outside the closed door, Dan
called. “Tristan?”

“Yes?”

“I just checked out the coroner’s
office. They finished up Brandilynn’s autopsy. The cops are on the
way to get the report.”

Fun time was over. Tristan and I stood,
completely clothed again. He took up my hand and kissed the back of
it with courtly aplomb. “Thank you for a lovely time,
Brandilynn.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” Good Lord,
had it ever been.

“And now the unpleasant awaits us.
Let’s see what we can find out about your death.”

He preceded me to the door, opening it
to find Dan waiting just outside. My rugged Marlboro Man searched
my face. His lips thinned, apparently not liking what he
saw.

Not yours, I thought at him. I still
had a hard time not blushing as he glared.

What the heck was wrong with
me?

Chapter Eight

I had never been in the coroner’s
office, but both men had. Tristan transported me there. I stayed
away from Dan since he looked so grumpy.

We arrived in the autopsy room, where
three sheeted corpses lay patiently on their tables. Tristan and
Dan had no problems finding the place, and I wondered what had
transpired in their afterlives that they would have such
familiarity with the cold, steel-accented room. I decided I’d
rather not ask.

Four people walked in within moments of
our entrance. I only recognized Sheriff Grayson. Flanking him were
a woman in a white lab coat and two guys in suits.

Dan provided the one-sided
introductions. “That’s Coroner Kris Landry and FBI agents Heany and
Neuhaus.”

I almost stuck out a hand to shake with
the people who didn’t know I stood there. Silly dead
girl.

They gathered around one table holding
a covered stiff, and I swallowed. “Is that me?”

Coroner Landry, her dark hair shot with
gray and arranged in a practiced topknot, switched on a strong
overhead light. She then waited patiently as one of the agents
argued passionately with the sheriff.

Agent Heany was in his late thirties,
an earnest-faced man whose hair was thinning fast. Some guys look
good with no hair, and with Heany’s nicely rounded skull, I figured
him to be a perfect candidate for nude flesh. He should just get it
over with and shave off what hung on, I thought. It would take
years from his looks.

His accent sounded funny to me, a
little nasally without the down-home Southern twang I knew so well.
Still, his voice produced a pleasant tenor I didn’t mind at all. “I
agree on who is going to the World Series, but no way the Braves
are going to take the Yankees, Sheriff. Most of your boys are past
their prime.”

Grayson glowered at him, his bushy gray
eyebrows drawing low over his eyes. “I’m telling you, this is our
year. You may have a few hotshots, but experience will win out.
Look at our pitching game!”

I rolled my eyes. “Men and baseball.
That’s one thing I won’t mind not keeping up with for my
clients.”

Landry unknowingly agreed with me. She
interrupted so smoothly it seemed she didn’t interrupt at all. I
admired that. “Okay gentlemen, let’s talk about your
girl.”

A strong hand tugged me around hard,
and I found myself suddenly facing Tristan and Dan. Tristan spoke
first. “Don’t look, Brandilynn.”

Dan added, “Hearing this will be hard
enough.”

Soft rumpling sounds behind me let me
know someone pulled back the cover over my evacuated body. Quiet
sighs exhaled from the living, and I wondered if they
hadn’t

seen many dead bodies. Or had the
Ripper done something so violent to me that even hardened law
enforcement agents hadn’t faced it before?

The harsh antiseptic scent of the
autopsy room couldn’t mask the sweetish-sour odor of rotting flesh.
Thank God I didn’t have a real stomach to empty out on the floor.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw tiny dots of color. Maraschino
cherry red. Toenails freshly painted for a date with a client. A
date with harsh destiny.

Landry’s voice was all business,
soothing in its detachment. “Death by vampire draining. See the
fang marks?”

“That’s a vicious bite. It looks like
he gnawed on her.” Heany’s voice carried no emotion, as if he’d
locked his feelings up in a box and thrown it into a river to never
be found again. “Three days before the saliva tests come back,
right?”

“Maybe two. We put a rush on it.”
Landry continued her report. “She was dead a week before she was
found. The semen we discovered was found here and here. She may
have been violated in any of these other gouges you see, but with
the amount of damage she took, it’s hard to tell.”

The room around me lurched, and both
Tristan and Dan grabbed me on either side to keep me from falling.
Apparently ghosts can faint. I shook off my horrified reaction with
tremendous effort.

The other agent, Neuhaus, had a deep
voice. The tall, lanky man didn’t bother to disguise his anger.
“He’s all about the blood and brutality. Was she alive for any of
it?”

“Some.” Emotion crept into Landry’s
voice for a moment, and I had a flash of sympathy for her. Her job
totally sucked. “Most of the damage occurred post mortem, just like
the rest. The mutilations are getting worse though, as you can
see.”

Still fighting for control, I asked the
men, “What’s this about mutilations? I haven’t heard anything about
that before.”

“They’ve kept it quiet,” Dan answered.
He kept his eyes on my face, refusing to look at my remains.
Tristan looked at his feet, blinking shining eyes hard to keep
tears from falling. Good God, how bad was it? My head started to
turn.

Dan’s hand gripped my jaw hard, forcing
me to look at him. “No Brandilynn, you can’t see what he did to
you. I won’t allow it.”

Grayson’s voice behind me sounded more
gravelly than ever. Big chunks of concrete gravelly. “So it’s
definitely Fulton Falls’ Ripper again.”

“The saliva tests will confirm that,”
Landry said.

“If it is, we’ll be no closer to
catching him.” Neuhaus suddenly sounded ancient. “Unregistered
vampires are nearly impossible to track down.”

Heany’s spoke over the sound of my body
being covered again. “He’s moving up from prostitutes to
escorts.”

Landry snorted. “Is there a
difference?”

I suddenly didn’t like her
anymore.

Heany answered. “Maybe for the case.
Brandilynn Payson didn’t work the streets. She was employed for a
company that provides dates for exclusive clientele. They don’t
offer sexual services, but they admit the ladies might have
understandings with their customers.”

Neuhaus stepped into my field of
vision, stretching his long, thin frame and staring into space.
“Miss Payson had some very big names on her regular roster. The
scandal is going to be huge for your sleepy little
town.”

Grayson sounded worried. “Speaking of
big names, we still haven’t tracked down Todd Spaulding to find out
if she made her date with him. No one knows where he is. His
business partner has reported him missing, and we’re trying to
reach his next-of-kin so we can search his house.”

That got my undivided attention. I
turned to look at the sheriff. Since they’d covered my body again,
Tristan and Dan didn’t restrain me this time. “Todd?” I wondered
out loud. He was an architect, something of a local celebrity for
his innovative home designs. The rich loved his one-of-a-kind
structures. He was a neat, dapper man with a fondness for being
called ‘Daddy’ during sex.

Tristan grabbed my arm just above the
elbow. “What night would you have seen him?”

“I usually saw him Thursdays.” A sudden
flash of memory hit. “He couldn’t make our date because he went out
of town. We re-scheduled for Sunday, normally a day off for me. My
next regular client was scheduled for Wednesday, but I also had a
function on Tuesday with an out-of-towner.”

Dan looked at Tristan. “She missed that
date.”

Tristan seemed excited. “Our first real
lead. Let’s pay Mr. Spaulding a visit.”

* * * *

We arrived in the bedroom of Todd
Spaulding’s beachfront home, me gripping tightly on the two men’s
hands. When I recognized the room I landed in, I released Tristan
and Dan to applaud myself.

“I did it!”

Dan patted my back in congratulations.
“I told you that you could. You just have to clear your mind of all
distractions.”

Tristan looked around and frowned.
“This is Spaulding’s bedroom? The decorating is so … typical for
this area. Funny for a man who designs avant-garde
homes.”

Todd’s bedroom was unremarkable indeed.
The décor was fairly typical of the beach cottage style seen so
much on Hamilton Island, one of a string of islands which lay just
off the coast of Fulton Falls’ mainland. Pastel blues and greens
predominated, with tan wicker furniture scattered like shells about
the room.