Night's Promise (6 page)

“It’s this thing between us,” she said in a rush. “It’s so new and yet it’s so intense. It’s a little scary, and now you’re telling me you’ve got secrets you can’t share, and you say you’d like us to get to know each other better, and people are looking for you, and you don’t know who or why, and . . .”

Derek pressed his fingertips to her lips. “Whoa, girl, I’m sorry I asked.”

“I just think we need to be honest with each other or there’s no point in going on.”

Her words splashed over him like ice water. She was right: There was no point in their going on. “You’re a wise woman,” he said quietly. “I think maybe we’d better end this before you get hurt.”

When she started to speak, he shook his head. “There are things about me that I can’t tell you. That I’ll never be able to tell you. Things that would make you hate me if you knew.”

Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Good-bye, Sheree.”

Before she could ask him not to go, he was out the door.

Outside, Derek took a deep breath. The scent of rain was in the air. Overhead, the wind chased the clouds across the darkening sky. A sharp crack of lightning released a whiff of ozone, followed by a distant echo of thunder.

He stood there for several minutes, staring at Sheree’s house. A thought took him home.

For once, he was glad to find his mother and Logan in the living room when he arrived.

“We weren’t waiting up for you,” Mara said. “We just got home from a wrap party at Justin’s.”

Derek nodded. Justin Price was the grandson of Sterling Gaylord Price. Sterling had been a famous Hollywood movie producer in his day. He’d also been a notorious lech, a trait apparently handed down to his grandson. Logan had backed Justin’s latest project, a big-budget 4D remake of
The Ten Commandments
.

“This film’s got Oscar written all over it,” Logan said, glancing at the gold statue on the mantel. “I think Oscar is gonna have a little brother. But, enough about me. How was your evening?” he asked, then frowned. “There’s blood on the sleeve of your jacket.”

Derek glanced at the stain barely visible against the dark cloth. “Yeah. I got into a bit of a scuffle with a couple of hunters.”

Mara’s head snapped up. “Hunters? Where?”

“At the Den. Two of them.” He held up a hand, staying his mother’s next question. “They weren’t looking for you or for me, by name. Apparently they saw me with Sheree a couple of nights ago and recognized I was a vampire. They got a little too physical trying to get my identity from Sheree and I put a stop to it.”

“Did you kill them?” Mara asked.

“No.” He’d wanted to, but not with Sheree there, watching his every move.

“Did you catch their names?” Logan asked.

Derek shook his head. “They were both built like Mack trucks. One had a long scar on his cheek. Sound like anyone you know?”

“The man with the scar,” Mara said. “Was he blond, with funny-colored eyes?”

“Yeah. You know him?”

“His name is Aurland. Richard or Rudy, something like that. He’s from North Carolina. I’ve never known him to come this far west. He usually pairs up with his brother-in-law, Silas Fortenberry. Another big guy, dark hair.”

Derek nodded. “That’s them.”

“There haven’t been any hunters in this area for fifteen, twenty years,” Logan remarked.

Mara nodded. “So why now?”

It was a damn good question, Derek mused, but one for which he had no good answer.

“What are you going to do about the girl?” Mara asked. “Being seen with you could be dangerous for her.”

“I know. It’s over.”

“You care for her?”

“Yeah. She . . .” He scrubbed his hands over his face. How could he explain how he felt when he was with Sheree? She soothed him in a way he didn’t understand.

Logan stretched his legs out in front of him, his hands laced behind his head. “You know, she might still be in danger from those two thugs. Just because you beat them off once doesn’t mean they won’t come back.”

Derek nodded. “Yeah, I thought about that.”

“You should probably keep an eye on her.”

“I thought about that, too. It’s not a problem at night, but during the day . . .” He shrugged. “She’ll be going home soon.”

Rising, Mara stretched her arms over her head, then took her husband by the hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Don’t worry, son. I’ll keep an eye on the girl during the day,” Mara said. “Good night.”

Derek watched the two of them climb the stairs.

What had prompted his mother to volunteer to look after Sheree? It was another good question for which he had no answer.

Sheree slept late, her dreams filled with images of men chasing her, catching her, of a handsome knight in shining armor riding to her rescue, then leaving her behind. She shivered, remembering how terrified she had been when those two men had dragged her down the street. There was no telling what they would have done to her if Derek hadn’t shown up when he had.

With an effort, she got out of bed, showered and dressed, and then decided to go out for an early lunch. She couldn’t just stay home and worry about what might have happened, and she refused to sit around and mope over a man who didn’t want her. She was probably better off without him. Yes, lunch and a movie and maybe a manicure. If that didn’t cheer her up, nothing would.

Leaving the house an hour later, she drove to her favorite restaurant, where she ordered half a tuna salad sandwich, a cup of vegetable soup, and a glass of iced tea. Comfort food, she thought, that was what she needed. So she asked for a hot fudge sundae with double hot fudge and extra whipped cream for dessert.

She was leaving the restaurant when she saw Derek’s sister walking toward her. The woman was even lovelier in the light of day. Sunlight glistened in the wealth of her ebony hair, her flawless skin seemed almost radiant, her green eyes were bright and clear.

“Sheree!” Mara said, smiling. “What a nice surprise.”

“Hi. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Thank you.” Mara glanced at the restaurant. “Are you going in for lunch?”

“No, I just ate. I’m on my way to a movie. It starts in a few minutes.”

“I haven’t been to the movies in ages. Would you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Sheree replied, pleased to have company. “I’d like that.”

“Shall we walk?” Mara asked. “It’s such a lovely day.”

“Good idea,” Sheree said, thinking it would give her a chance to walk off a few of those calories she’d just eaten.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Mara said, falling into step beside her. “We didn’t get to talk the other night.”

“There’s not much to tell. I came out here to spread my wings, I guess you could say, but it hasn’t worked out. I’m going back home in a week or two.”

“Oh? I thought you and Derek were . . . never mind, it’s none of my business.”

“Yes, Derek.” Sheree bit down on her lower lip, wondering how much she should share with Mara, and how much, if anything, Derek had already told his sister. “It just didn’t work out.”

“That’s too bad. He seemed very fond of you.”

Sheree was searching for a reply when they reached the theater. Inside, she bought a small popcorn and a soft drink, then glanced at Mara, who stood beside her.

Mara shook her head. “Nothing for me.”

There were only two other people in the auditorium, a teenage boy and girl sitting in the last row, their arms wrapped around each other. Sheree grinned, thinking they were probably cutting class so they could neck.

“If you need someone to talk to,” Mara whispered, “I’d be happy to listen.”

Sheree shook her head. “There’s nothing to say.” Sighing, she stared at the bag of popcorn in her hands. “I was hoping he was the one, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, but . . .” She twisted a lock of hair around her finger, then shrugged. “He said it would be best if we ended it.”

“I see.” Mara patted her arm. “Perhaps he’s right.”

Sheree stared at the screen, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “I miss him already.”

 

 

Derek stood in the shadows, watching Sheree’s house. Lights burned in the living room window, the curtains drawn against the night. But he didn’t need to see her to know she was inside.

He shifted from one foot to the other. He was here to relieve his mother, who had spent the day keeping watch over Sheree. “How is she?”

Mara stood in the shadows behind him. “She told me she misses you.”

Derek glanced over his shoulder. “It’s only been one day.”

“So, you don’t miss her?”

“What are you now, my matchmaker?” he asked irritably.

“I just don’t like to see you alone.”

Derek turned to stare at Sheree’s house again. He was twenty-five years old and he’d never had a steady girlfriend, never dated any woman more than once or twice. While other thirteen-year-olds were discovering and appreciating the differences between boys and girls, he’d been learning how to hunt, how to control the ever-present urge to kill his prey, how to hide what he was from humans, how to defend himself against hunters, how to protect himself if he was caught out in the sun’s light. None of which had prepared him for what he felt for Sheree.

He knew it was possible for a vampire to find happiness with a human. His family was proof of that. Roshan and Brenna, Vince and Cara, Rafe and Kathy, Rane and Savannah—they’d all fallen in love and made it work. The only failed relationship was that of his father and his mother. Loving Mara had killed Kyle Bowden as surely as if she had personally taken his life.

“Derek?”

“What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“Happy, yeah. I’ll work on that.”

“I wish you would!” she retorted. “It breaks my heart to see you looking so miserable.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

Sighing, she closed the distance between them and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Of course not. I love having you here. You must know that.”

He grunted softly.

“Just think about what I said, that’s all I’m asking, all right?”

“Yeah.” Covering her hand with his, he gave it a squeeze.

“Good. I’ll see you at home later.”

A faint stirring in the air, and she was gone.

Derek stood there for several minutes, then dissolved into mist, crossed the street, and slipped under the crack in the front door.

 

 

Sheree glanced at the antique clock on the mantel, unable to believe it was barely nine. Would this day never end? She had considered going out, but she was somewhat unsettled after last night’s incident. She didn’t think she was in any danger from the two men who had accosted her, certainly not the one with the two broken arms. Still, going out alone didn’t seem very wise, all things considered.

She had called her parents earlier in the evening to let them know she’d be coming home, probably next week. Her mother immediately suggested a welcome home party, as if Sheree had been gone years instead of only a few months.

Thinking about it now, she wondered if going back to Philadelphia was such a good idea. Did she really want to get caught up in all those social obligations again? On the other hand, there was no reason to stay here.

Blowing out a sigh, she closed her eyes. And frowned at the sudden feeling that she was no longer alone. Sitting up, she glanced around the room, certain someone was there.

Rising, she grabbed the fireplace poker and tiptoed through the house, turning on lights as she went, peeking behind doors, peering into closets.

There was no one there.

Convinced she was imagining things, and feeling more than a little foolish, she dropped the poker on the bed, then went into the bathroom and turned on the taps in the tub, thinking a nice hot bath might relax her. And if that didn’t do it, perhaps a cup of warm milk or hot chocolate.

After adding some lilac-scented bubble bath to the water, she tied her hair up in a ponytail to keep it out of the way, then stepped into the tub and closed her eyes.

She was cracking up, she thought. First she was imagining an intruder in the house when there was no one there, now she was imagining the scent of Derek’s cologne.

 

 

Derek lingered near the ceiling in Sheree’s bedroom. Tempting as it was to slip into the bathroom and watch her bathe, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t a voyeur, after all.

Resuming his own form, he looked around her room, wondering if she had decorated it herself. The walls were papered in an old-fashioned blue and white stripe. Curtains the same shade of blue as the paper hung at the single window, the blue captured again in the quilt on the bed. The floor was hardwood, the furniture painted white. Several framed pictures—two landscapes, two seascapes—hung on the walls. A well-read copy of
Wuthering Heights
lay open on the nightstand.

He paused near the door. From the slow, steady beat of Sheree’s heart, he knew she had fallen asleep in the tub. He swore softly. Was she covered in bubbles? Did he dare look? What if she woke up? How would he explain his presence in her house, in her bedroom, uninvited?

He swore again, all thoughts of being caught taking flight when he heard movement in the kitchen downstairs. What the hell?

Dissolving into mist, he drifted down the staircase. The front door was ajar. Two men holding pistols stood with their backs toward him. One of them had a fat white bandage wrapped around his forehead. Aurland, the scar-faced man from the Den. The other hunter was a stranger.

Aurland waved his gun toward the second floor. “She must be up there.”

The second man had one hand on the banister when Derek heard Sheree’s footsteps in the hallway upstairs.

“Get out of sight,” Aurland hissed. “She’s coming down.”

Derek glanced at the landing, and sure enough, Sheree was on her way down the stairs, wrapped in a bathrobe, her slippers flip-flapping on the steps.

Shit!
He couldn’t materialize in front of her. Darting out the door, Derek resumed his own shape again, then stood just inside the threshold.

At the foot of the stairs, Sheree came to an abrupt halt when she saw him. “Oh, Derek, you startled me!”

“Sorry.” He glanced around, nostrils flaring. Aurland was hiding behind the kitchen door. The other man was in the hall closet.

Stepping out onto the porch, Derek gestured for Sheree to follow him.

She frowned at him instead. “What are you doing here?”

“Come outside,” he said softly.

“I’m not dressed.”

“Dammit, woman . . .”

“Louis! Now!” Aurland shouted as he emerged from the kitchen. The second hunter sprang out of the closet, both firing when they saw Derek. The first bullet took him in the shoulder, the second burying itself in his right leg. The silver burned through skin and muscle like acid.

The sound of Sheree’s high-pitched scream galvanized Derek into action. His fist a blur, he punched the hunter nearest him in the throat, killing him instantly.

Aurland fired a second time.

The force of the bullet slammed into Derek’s chest, just missing his heart. Before the hunter could fire again, Derek grabbed the man’s head between his hands and with a quick twist broke his neck and tossed the body aside.

A strangled sob reminded him he wasn’t alone. He turned in time to see Sheree sink to her knees, her eyes wide as she stared at the fallen hunters.

When he took a step toward her, she thrust her hands out to ward him off. “What are you?”

Damn! Capturing her gaze with his, he said, “Sheree, look at me. A couple of men tried to break into your house while we were talking. I scared the intruders away. You didn’t see anything unusual. There are no bodies in your house. But you didn’t want to stay here alone, so I took you home with me. Do you understand?”

When she nodded, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and punched in his mother’s number.

She answered on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to come get me.” Glancing at the blood leaking from his wounds, he added, “Hurry.”

Wise woman that she was, his mother didn’t waste time asking questions.

Three minutes later, Logan and Mara were standing on the front porch. Logan took a quick glance around and stated the obvious. “We’ve got to get those bodies out of here.”

Mara nodded. Unfortunately, they couldn’t go inside without an invitation from the owner, which meant, wounded or not, Derek would have to clean up the mess. “Derek, bring the bodies out here and then bring Sheree to me. I’ll take her to our place. Meet us there when you can. Oh, you might want to find a nightgown and a change of clothes for her.”

With a nod, Derek dragged the two men out onto the porch, then went back into the house for Sheree.

She stared at him blankly. “What are you doing?” she asked when he scooped her into his arms.

“Just relax,” he said as he carried her outside and lowered her into his mother’s waiting arms.

“Everything is just fine,” Mara said, her voice low and soothing. “Close your eyes, Sheree. That’s right. You’re going to go to sleep for a while, and you won’t wake up until I call you.”

Derek waited until Logan and his mother were gone; then he closed the front door and began setting things to right. Grabbing a dish towel from the kitchen he started mopping up his blood, no easy task since it continued to drip onto the floor with every step he took. Muttering an oath, he grabbed two more towels. He stuffed one inside his shirt and wrapped the other around his leg.

When he finished cleaning up, he went upstairs to find a change of clothes for Sheree. Downstairs again, he took one last look around, tucked her handbag under his arm, turned off the lights, and locked the door.

Moments later, he materialized inside the house in the Hollywood Hills. His mother was waiting for him in the living room.

“Where’s Sheree?” Derek dropped her purse on a small table.

“In one of the bedrooms upstairs. She’s resting comfortably. Go in the kitchen and sit down. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Lacking the strength to argue, Derek did as he was told. He clenched his hands against pain that grew worse with every breath as he climbed onto a high stool. Tugging the bloody cloth from inside his shirt, he tossed it into the sink. The one around his leg quickly followed.