Enlightened [Sexual Magic 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (19 page)

She acknowledged the truth of his words with a wry smile, then bid them good-bye. She closed and bolted the door then booted up her computer, ready to begin her assignment.

Just as The Deviant Kink came to life on her screen, her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number.

“Could be Mason or Griff,” she murmured and pressed the answer button. “Hello?”

A short sob crackled on the line. “He wants you. Help me.”

Then it went dead. “Hello?”

No answer. Emma redialed the phone number, but it just rang.

“Weird.”

The voice had been feminine, of that she was certain, but she had not recognized the caller.

She decided the call had a wrong number or a prank call.

Emma silenced her phone and returned to the computer. She pulled up the checklist and started to fill it out.

Three questions in and her pussy dripped with need.

It was going to be one long night.

* * * *

“God, shut up.”

Emma groaned and slapped at her shrill alarm clock. The blasted thing skittered across the top of her nightstand like it had legs and a mind of its own. It hung drunkenly on the edge by its cord, still squawking. Halo rumbled from the foot of the bed then pounced, landing squarely in the middle of Emma’s chest.

“Oof.”

Halo butted her furry head along Emma’s chin, the rumble growing louder with each pass.

“All right, you’re hungry, I get it.”

Emma tossed back the blanket, grabbed the damn clock, and shut it off. The silence was blissful.

Halo daintily leapt to the floor and stalked down the hallway, tail stiff and demanding. With a yawn and long, satisfying stretch, Emma clambered out of bed and headed for the kitchen. She poured some kibbles into the cat’s bowl and switched the coffeemaker on. Within minutes, the rich aroma of macadamia nut dark roast filled the air, and she sniffed appreciatively. Mug in hand, she stalked the pot until the final drips rained down, poured a generous cupful, then ambled to the bathroom to get ready for her day.

It took her two-and-half cups of coffee and thirty minutes longer than usual to do her hair and makeup, then find something to wear. Her brain just wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, she constantly found herself with an idiotic grin while delighted shivers coursed through her.

The night had been long, indeed, but well worth the late bedtime.

And tonight would be even better. Tonight, she’d be with Mason and Griff again. She was also in deep trouble because she’d come about a dozen times as the men watched her on the webcam, but those orgasms had been worth every stroke she accumulated.

Emma checked her watch, saw she was way late, and cursed as she dashed through the apartment. She gathered her coat, purse, and keys then scooted out the door and down to her car.

First she called in sick, and now she was going to be late. Ugh. That never happened.

She slowed as she approached the car.

“What the hell?”

Her beautiful little red Mustang listed to the right like a beached whale.

“No, no, no,” she muttered. “Not now.”

She bent over and checked. Sure enough, she had a flat tire.

Damn it.

Emma rose and popped first the locks on the car then the trunk. She shoved her bag inside the front seat and stomped toward the rear to get her spare and jack. She ought to call work and let them know, but that would take extra time.

Fortunately, she could change her tires by herself—her father had not allowed her to get her license without knowing how to maintain her vehicle—and it would take longer to call and explain than it would to fix it and go.

With a heave, she pulled the spare free of the trunk. She rolled it to the side and froze. “What the fuck?”

Her throat squeezed with a painful vise, and she knew a moment of absolute panic.

Her car sported not one, but
two
flat tires.

The spare fell from her fingers and clattered on the ground in a wild circle. She knelt down and felt around the second flat. Within seconds, she found a huge gash that punctured both radial and tube.

Panic melded with fear, and she swallowed the emotions as she scooted to the other tire —same damn thing.

Emma slowly rose to her feet and looked around. Why would someone slash her tires?

Who
would do such a thing?

Just as she opened the driver’s door and fished out her cell phone, a short little beep sounded at the rear of her car.

She pulled her head out and looked then swallowed a sigh.

Charles.

He rolled down his window and looked at her, a frown on his face. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” she said with a totally fake smile. “Thanks.”

He killed the engine and got out of his car. His tall, lanky form—encased in his usual brown slacks and matching sweater—towered over her poor Mustang.

“You drive through some nails?” he asked as he hunkered down. His hands ran along the tire, and he gasped, his eyes shooting up to meet hers. “Emma, what the hell? Your tires have been slashed.”

She rubbed her forehead wearily. “Yeah, I just figured that out.”

He leapt to his feet and spun in a crazy circle. “Who did this?”

“Don’t know, Charles. Look, you don’t want to be late for class. You should go. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you alone,” he said fiercely. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

She was almost warmed by his concern, but really, she just wanted him to leave.

“I’m going to call my friends Joel and Ryan. They’ll come help me.”

He scratched the side of his nose, gaze still flying left and right as though he expected the tire-slasher to jump out at them at any second.

“Emma, I know we didn’t work out as a couple, but I’d like to think we’re at least friends. And friends let each other help in times of need.” He kicked her tire lightly. “It looks like you are definitely in need of help.”

“I am,” she said and gave him a small smile. “But Ryan has a Mustang, too, and he’ll let me borrow his spare til I can get them fixed.”

She congratulated herself on the brilliance of her lie.

Annoyance flicked over his face before he erased it. Emma gripped her phone tighter and stepped onto the grass. “Really,” she said with an airy wave. “Go on. They’re just up the street.”

She punched the speed dial for Joel and prayed he’d pick up quickly.

“Lo?” His voice, though sleep-rough, was a welcomed sound.

“Joel! Hi. Sorry to wake you, but I need some help.”

“What’s wrong?” Concern lanced his tone now.

Charles continued to regard her with a hawk-like stare, hands shoved in his pockets.

She cleared her throat, stepped back to the car, and grabbed her purse. “Charles, thanks for stopping by.”

“
Charles?
What the fuck is he doing there?”

Emma ignored Joel’s demand and locked the car. “I’m going to go upstairs for more coffee until they get here. Bye.”

She spun and forced herself not to sprint up the sidewalk.

“Someone slashed my tires. Can you and Ryan come over?”

“Ryan got called in this morning. They think the Snapshot Killer left another victim.”

Emma froze on the top step. A scuff sounded below, and she threw a glance over her shoulder. She saw nothing.

“Why is Charles there?” Joel asked.

Shoving the key in her lock, she barreled into her cozy, warm,
safe
apartment and slammed the door hard.

“I have no idea. I was too busy freaking out over my tires.”

Two hard twists and both locks were secure. Why didn’t she feel the same?

In the living room, Emma tossed her purse onto the couch. She glanced at the matching overstuffed chair then tucked the phone between her chin and shoulder and hauled the red, heavy seat to the door. Its wooden legs squeaked in protest along the hardwood floor.

“Emma, are you okay?”

She closed her eyes and, though she felt nine kinds of a fool, could not stem the sudden tremors wracking her.

“No. Some whack job slashed my tires. I got a freaky phone call last night, and Charles appears at just the right time. It’s too weird for words.”

“I’ll be right there,” Joel said. “Stay in your apartment and don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

She gave a strangled laugh. “Isn’t that what they always say just before the killer gets his victim?”

“Not funny, damn it. Ten minutes, tops, and I’ll be there.”

“Hurry,” she whispered and disconnected.

Halo ambled from the hallway, froze, and blinked up at her. She meowed loudly then wove sinuously between Emma’s legs.

“Wondering what I’m doing home, huh? Me, too.”

The cat head-butted her in the calf, and Emma scooped her up. She buried her face into Halo’s soft fur. Tears burned her nose, but she held them back.

Kids had damaged her car. They were just a bunch of kids out on a lark and picking on the cool muscle car.

Halo snuggled tight to her chest, Emma wandered to the window and stared down at the covered parking area that hid her Mustang from view. Was Charles still down there?

Had he fixed the tire after she left?

God, she hoped not. She didn’t want to be beholden to him for any reason, good deed or not.

Not to mention, his whole “friends” comment did not set well with her, either.

She cursed whatever fate led her to meet him, anyway.

Halo mewed in a tiny voice and patted her cheek with a silky paw.

Emma realized tears fell despite her vow, and she sighed, stepped back, and sank onto the couch.

“Griff and Mason were right about boundaries, Halo. Too bad I didn’t exercise a little more caution and common sense when I went out with Charles, huh?”

The Burmese stretched, blinked her large yellow eyes, then leaped down and headed for the kitchen, tail pointed up and demanding caterwaul reverberating in the air.

Emma laughed as she rose. “Thanks for the sympathy.”

The last bit of cat food spilled into the bowl just as a furious pounding rattled her front door. Emma jerked around, sending kibble flying. Halo growled in disgust then bent her head and daintily began to eat.

“Emma!” Joel’s voice filtered through the wood.

She hurried down the hallway. “Just a sec.” With a shove, she pushed the red chair out of the way, though she winced at its squeaking protest.

She flipped both bolts and opened the door.

Joel barreled inside and hauled her into a tight embrace. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she said, face smooshed into his chest. “Can’t breathe.”

“Sorry.”

She smiled and shut the door, relocking it securely. “I’m fine, Joel, honest. I think maybe I let my imagination go crazy, that’s all.”

“Hell, Em, who wouldn’t go crazy with some serial killer on the loose then finding slashed tires?”

“Ugh, that so does not make it better.”

“Sorry. Okay.” He smacked his hands together and rubbed. “I don’t do manual labor, so I vote we call a tow truck. They’ll haul it to the tire place, and you’ll be fixed up in no time.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s the best idea.”

After she called the tow company, she contacted her boss, apologized profusely for missing another day, and promised to be in early tomorrow.

Peter was concerned, but seemed distracted at the same time, which suited her fine. She found it contributed less to her guilt.

Joel studied her as she hung up the phone. “So, what are you going to do with the rest of your day?” He wiggled his brow and grinned.

She knew exactly what he was thinking because calling Griff and Mason had been foremost in her mind for the last fifteen minutes. “Looks like I’m going to have another session of amazing sex.” 

“I like her.”

Griff nodded as he looked up from his book. “Yeah, I do, too.”

“A-ha!” Mason crowed. “I knew it.”

“She’s special, Mason, I’ll give you that, but it’s only been a couple of days.” He lifted a shoulder. “What are you looking for?”

Mason dropped onto the sofa opposite him, fingers laced together and an earnest expression on his face. “I wasn’t looking for anything except another good time. Emma, though, makes me think of other things. Like forever.”

Griff’s throat tightened. He’d been afraid of that because she stirred the same desire in him and it scared the hell out of him. He’d tried the forever route before, and that worked out for shit.

He wasn’t sure he was willing to put himself or his emotions through that again.

Just as he wasn’t sure he was willing to forgo the experience that was Emma because of some intangible fear. He raked a hand through his hair and exhaled but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, I hear you. She has me totally confused, too.” Mason cracked his knuckles. “You know, I laughed when Alec and Kade fell in love with Fi. Thought there was no way it would work. Yet, here they are. Happy and more than content.”

“It’s different, though.”

“How?”

He didn’t have an answer, something he was sure Mason already knew.

“Thought so. Want to talk about it?”

Restlessness gripped him, and Griff rose to pace the room. “I don’t think now is the time to be considering any sort of relationship beyond our contract with her. We’ve not finished our job.” Privately, he wondered if she would even want to be a permanent part of their trio. He bloody well remembered the disbelief, disgust, and sense of betrayal he’d felt when his ex-wife had proposed a very similar deal with him as the token male in the middle of their Sapphic liaison.

While Emma currently enjoyed this new experience, once she found her boundaries, would monogamy and only one partner be something on her list? Would two men to love be a hard limit she would not break?

A tight pang shuddered through him.

“So, you think we should cut her loose once we’ve trained her and hope she comes back? What are you, some sort of freaking eighth-grade poem? If you love something, blah, blah, blah?”

Mason’s annoyance grew by leaps and bounds, and Griff, irritated himself, channeled the emotion back at his friend, who let out an
oomph
of air.