Crime & Punishment 2: Master Delacroix (8 page)

He stopped walking and touched his lips to hers. Warmth spread through him like an ocean wave, catching him by surprise. What was it about her that had him so captivated? He hadn’t been this attracted to a woman since…well, since his fiancée.

He hadn’t thought of Trish much lately. Not like he used to. He’d finally moved on, but was he ready for another relationship?

With a sigh, he sat down and settled Connelly on his lap. She wiggled and moaned as she tried to find a more comfortable position.

He watched her with amusement, then asked, “Is your ass a little sore, pet?”

“Yes,” she grumbled. “But I’ll live.”

She still hadn’t opened her eyes, so he tilted her chin up with a single finger. “Open your eyes, sweetheart, and look at me.”

He didn’t really need her to. He knew what she felt right now: satisfaction, warmth, slight confusion, and surprise. When she looked at him, all the things he felt from her were confirmed, and he grinned. She had such beautiful, expressive eyes. So pretty and dark. So easy to fall into and forget the world.

Careful, Nathan.

“How was your first experience?” he asked softly, curious as to what she would say.

Her eyes narrowed just a little, and her lips twisted in cynicism. “Something tells me you already know. How do you read women so well?”

“Years of practice.”

He told very few people about his gift. He’d heard the rumors, knew what some speculated. Hell, even the word
vampire
had been thrown around, but he never confirmed or denied any of it. Besides, he sometimes found it fun to keep them guessing.

“Sometimes I’d swear you read my mind.”

His lips twitched. “I believe that power is what we call a myth.”

She snorted and pulled her chin from his grasp. “I’ve interviewed registered psychics. Some of them are quite talented. When you were with the FBI, didn’t you ever work with any?”

“No,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. He’d never worked with another psychic. “I profiled. I don’t investigate.”

“Don’t the two sort of go hand in hand?” she asked.

He placed his palm on her thigh and gently rubbed his palm along her soft skin. He could easily get distracted while touching her, so he stopped and just let his fingers rest halfway between her hip and knee.

“Truthfully, it depends on the case.” He stared at his hand, lost in thought. Was it time to tell her he’d investigated the man who killed her husband and left her for dead? What would her reaction be? “I worked the Lenox case.”

He glanced down at her, and she blinked. “Lenox?”

“I know about your husband. I thought your name sounded familiar and asked my old partner, Josh. I came onto the case after your attack. We never spoke, but I read about you in the case report.”

“Oh,” she said.

He didn’t pick up any emotional reaction and stared into her eyes, wondering what she might be thinking.

“Lenox also killed my fiancée,” he murmured. “I got too close, and it was his way of making me back off.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Looks like you and I have something in common.”

“Yes, it’s a shame it’s a murdering dick.”

Connelly’s lips quirked at his sorry attempt at sarcastic humor. She sighed. “We both come with a whole lot of baggage, don’t we?”

They did. Nathan didn’t really want another relationship, despite the fact he felt he could possibly have one with her. And Connelly… He felt her pull away, putting a wall around her heart. She didn’t want a relationship either. So where exactly did that leave them? Saying good-bye now that she had her research?

Something about that thought made Nathan’s chest tighten.

“I should probably be going,” she said, and tried to climb off his lap.

“You’re naked, pet. Might want to dress first.”

She froze and looked at him wide-eyed. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

Nathan chuckled and waved to a man a few feet away in a tux. “Could you bring me Connelly’s clothes, please?”

The man nodded and headed quickly to do Nathan’s bidding. Once she had her clothes, she stood on wobbly legs. Nathan grabbed her arm, steadying her. “I’m not sure you should be driving home,” he said.

She gave her head a stubborn shake. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, anyway.”

Nathan stood close, offering help, despite her reluctance to accept. She was adorable when trying to be independent even though it was obvious she struggled. With his hand at the small of her back, he escorted her out to her car. The more she walked, the more steady she became.

As they waited for the valet to bring her car around to the front, she turned and smiled—one that instantly made Nathan’s heart skip a weird beat.

“I suppose I should say thank you, but that sounds a bit odd. You know…thanks for getting me off?”

Nathan laughed and tweaked her nose. “You are quite welcome, pet. I hope you got everything you needed, but if you should choose to return, you’re always welcome.”

Her face flushed. “Thank you. I’ll remember that.”

A bright orange convertible Camaro came to a stop just a few feet away. The top was down, the seats were black leather, and the radio blasted out a rap tune before the valet quickly turned it off and climbed out.

Nathan chuckled softly. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey,” she said, then slapped him playfully on his arm before pointing her finger at him. “Don’t make fun of the car.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with amusement.

She returned his grin and walked around the car to climb behind the wheel. She appeared much steadier now, so Nathan felt better about letting her leave. Now, every time he saw that particular sports car on the road, he would wonder if it was her.

She put her purse in the seat beside her and then turned the key. The motor started with the rumbling purr of a sports car, and he smiled softly. He’d always liked that sound. Liked it even more now as he envisioned her behind the wheel.

“Thanks again, Nathan.”

He gave a nod. “Anytime. I expect a very flattering acknowledgment.”

She giggled. “And I know just what to say.”

She gave a wave and headed out the driveway toward the main road. He watched until he could no longer see her taillights, the whole time fighting a lingering sense of unease. Something didn’t feel right. It was as though he’d made a mistake at some point, but he couldn’t figure out where.

Shaking his head in an attempt to dislodge the feeling, he walked back into the house. The unease grew, tightening his stomach. The entry hall was bright, and he squinted against the harsh lights. The lighting should be dimmed. They shouldn’t be that bright. He rubbed at his eyes, noticing that his fingers were trembling. With a frown, he pulled them away from his face and stared at them.

Blood covered his fingers, and he gasped. This wasn’t real. He wasn’t bleeding. He blinked in an effort to dislodge the vision, but it wouldn’t go away. The noise of the club faded, the air around him became cold…unbelievably cold. He shivered and folded his fingers into a fist.

From somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard someone scream his name. Was it female? Male? He couldn’t tell. It was too far away. Too faint. Trepidation made him shake, left him feeling nauseous and unable to move. What the hell was wrong with him?

Pain pierced his forehead, and he grunted, squinting his eyes closed against it.

He bent at the waist and growled, “Son of a bitch.”

Chapter Eight

Nathan would’ve fallen flat on his face if someone hadn’t gripped his shoulders and held him up.

“Nathan?” Daniel’s voice penetrated the painful fog, but barely. “Nathan?” Daniel snapped.

“I heard you the first time,” Nathan snapped as his brother led him to the small office off the other side of the entry hall.

“Then perhaps you should’ve answered me the first time.”

Nathan dropped onto the leather sofa, rested his elbows on his knees, and cradled his aching forehead in his hands. “Please don’t yell,” Nathan mumbled.

“What the hell happened out there?” Daniel asked.

“Sudden onset migraine,” Nathan mumbled toward the floor. “I should call my life ‘This Fucking Migraine: The Musical,’ with guest appearances by ‘oh my God, you can't be serious’ and ‘where the hell are my keys. ’”

“That’s not funny, Nathan.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“What’s going on that you’re not telling me?” Daniel demanded.

Nathan lifted his head and glared at his brother in the dim light of the room.

“I saw the look of horror on your face while you were studying your hand. What did you see?” Daniel asked.

Nathan sighed and sat back. “I saw blood on my hands.”

“Yours?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do the headaches have to do with it?”

“Don’t know that either, but they usually accompany these latest visions.”

“These visions?” Daniel asked as he took the empty spot next to him on the couch. “This isn’t the first one?”

The muscle in Nathan’s cheek jerked. “No.”

His brother stared at him with concern. “How long?”

“They started the day I met Connelly.” He narrowed his eyes at his brother. “You arrived that day too.”

Daniel frowned. “Do you think they might have something to do with either of us?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t see the future, or at least you didn’t used to, so what is this?”

Nathan sighed in agitation. Even Josh didn’t ask so many damn questions. “I don’t know, Daniel,” he snapped. He sighed and rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I need a drink.”

“In a minute,” Daniel replied.

Nathan dropped his hand and glared again at his brother. “Excuse me?”

Daniel stared angrily back. “What are you seeing?”

“Why is it so damn important?”

“You saw blood on your hands. To me that sounds important. What else did you see?”

Nathan pursed his lips and silently counted to ten. “Tonight that’s all I saw.” He didn’t tell him about someone screaming his name.

“What about the others?”

Nathan raised his hand and started to speak, then dropped it to rest on his thigh with a sigh before trying again. “Lots of disjointed images. Darkness, a gun, a flash of light, then the pain.”

“Pain?”

Nathan pointed to his head, and Daniel nodded.

“Sounds to me like someone is shot.”

Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. He initially thought the same thing. “The visions don’t always work that way. The images might not even be related in time but related to a specific person.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, the image of the gun and the flash of light may not be the same event. The problem with this is they feel different. I don’t see the future. I never have, but that’s what these feel like. I get the impression it’s an oncoming event that changes slightly with each…play, for lack of a better word. Sort of like a movie trailer, but each one has minor differences.”

“Do you think you can change what’s coming?” Daniel asked.

“Maybe. If I can figure out what it is and who it’s connected to.”

For all Nathan knew, it could be anyone. It just seemed odd to him that it had all started about the same time Daniel and Connelly had arrived.

“Do me a favor,” Nathan began. “Find John. He’s the tall guy in the tux—the only one with a mustache. Tell him to close up for me. I had a migraine and decided to call it a night.”

Daniel nodded. “I can help him with that. Just tell me what to do.”

Nathan shook his head. “John knows what to do. Offer to help and he’ll show you the ropes.”

Daniel narrowed his eyes. “You’re not driving, are you?”

“No, I keep a few things in the guesthouse out back. I’ll stay there tonight.”

What he didn’t tell his brother was that he stayed there most nights. He very seldom went to his downtown condo anymore. It was the one he’d shared with Trish. As much as he hated to, he really needed to sell it and buy another. He needed to move on. It was time. He’d said his good-byes, made his peace with her murder and his guilt. She would always hold a place in his heart, but she was gone, and he needed to continue to live. She would want it that way.

As he stood, he glanced down at his brother. “I don’t think I ever asked. Where are you staying?”

“The condo Dad keeps downtown. Why?”

Nathan gave a small shrug. “Just curious.”

“I’ll come back and check on you tomorrow.”

He could hear the worry in Daniel’s voice. Despite all their arguments and misunderstandings, they were brothers, and they both loved the other. They always would.

“Just make it after ten,” Nathan grumbled as he headed down the hall and out the back door toward the guesthouse.

* * * *

Connelly walked into the kitchen feeling tired and strung out. She’d been up until four in the morning typing everything into her computer—her impressions of the club, her emotions, her reactions. She’d masturbated before going to sleep, the whole time picturing Nathan and those intense, seductive eyes.

He’d been gentle and careful, even going so far as to warn his brother about the wax. His ability to read her was… Well, it was incredibly creepy in a way and, at the same time, so incredibly erotic. She reached for a coffee cup, causing her robe to rub across her still-sensitive nipple. She winced and then practically gasped aloud at the wave of heat that washed over her, making her horny all over again.

“There you are. Finally,” Peter said as he strolled into the kitchen.

She smiled at him over her shoulder as she poured coffee into her cup. “Thanks for making fresh coffee.”

“Not a problem.”

He sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island and slid his cup across it for her to add coffee. “I figured after last night you would need it. How was it, by the way?”

She slid his cup back to him and set the carafe on the granite. “I don’t even know where to start. You should see this place, Peter. Red walls, Goth accents, black chandeliers. It screams vampires.”

Peter chuckled as he lifted his cup to take a sip.

“People have sex anywhere and everywhere. Women and men are getting spanked, mildly tortured. It’s incredibly hot.”