Phantom Series Boxed Set (66 page)

Five successive beeps rocked the silence, followed by a long whistle.

Her security device had been deactivated.

This was not good.

Angry at Lauren’s inability to fully appreciate the severity of his situation, Aiden had acted uncharacteristically last night when he’d abandoned Lauren in her study and retreated to the garden for the duration of the darkness. Instead of spending the remainder of the night making love to the beautiful, deceptively fragile woman who’d devoted the better part of her evening researching the fate of his family, he’d thrown himself into seclusion, listening to the trickle and splash of the fountain and recounting memories of people and situations he’d spent centuries forgetting.

Only when daylight had been moments from dawning did he realize how he’d brooded more like his brothers Damon and Rafe might have. The eldest and the youngest Forsyth sons had earned reputations for dwelling on injustice beyond a reasonable period. Aiden, on the other hand, had been as likely as Logan or Paxton to drown his troubles with a pint of ale and perhaps the company of a lovely lady. Yet by the time Aiden had recognized his boorish behavior, the sun had risen and he’d retreated, unwillingly, into nothingness.

And yet, as the sunlight had streaked through her windows, he’d hovered above her bed, watching her fitful sleep, cursing himself for acting so much like her former husband that he was forced to wonder why she didn’t ship the sword off to some unknown land and banish him from her life forever. Her refusal to leave her home and ambitions behind to take him on a fool’s journey to England—where he might not find any more information about his family than he had on the Internet—had stung. Even after two centuries, he was not yet used to a woman denying his every whim and desire. In that regard he did not much like this new millennium.

Or perhaps he simply had to realize that some women deserved to honor their own heart’s desire over that of a lover. Lauren’s ability to focus on her own needs in sexual situations had excited him, but now, when his agenda contradicted hers, he questioned her choices and her loyalty.

He was no better than Rogan.

Except that he truly cared for Lauren in ways he had not experienced with any other woman. He might even love her, if he had any real notion of what that might mean.

But now he could prove his devotion by protecting her—or, at the very least, guarding her possessions. Though he suspected only one possession would be at risk.

The squeak of shoes announced the thief’s path across the marble floor in her foyer. The steps were tentative. Uncertain. Someone with permission to be inside would not walk with such a hesitant stride. And yet whoever had breached her security did so with knowledge and forethought. They had clearly entered the correct security code—and they knew she wasn’t at home.

With the risen sun blinding him anytime he ventured too close to the windows, he employed Rogan’s magic to search the house, sensing the interloper in the living room. Aiden manifested, invisible, just behind the couch. The man had masked his face in thick black wool. His eyes were unrecognizable slits.

The intruder bypassed several items Aiden had learned cost Lauren a considerable amount of gold—a television, several collectible art pieces small enough for a thief to pocket, and a diamond bracelet Lauren had been wearing last night, but had removed and left on the coffee table when it had twice snagged her costume. Clearly the burglar was not here for ordinary treasure.

The thief turned toward the staircase. Though Aiden wasn’t exactly sure where Lauren had stashed the sword, he’d felt a tug during the night that made him believe she’d taken it upstairs. With a thought, he positioned himself on the middle step. When the thief approached, Aiden focused all his power into his midsection, so that after the intruder bumped into him, he lost his footing and skittered down several steps before catching himself on the banister.

“What the f—”

Aiden
tsk
ed. “Such language,” he chastised.

The man dropped on his arse down two more stairs. “Who’s there?”

“Leave,” Aiden ordered. “Now.”

The message seemed simple enough, but the thief merely screamed in a tone not unlike a woman’s. Only when the interloper yanked off his mask to see more clearly was Aiden sure that his initial guess as to the gender of the intruder was correct.

A man. But not just any man.

Aiden’s smile seemed to fill his insubstantial body with needs he’d squelched for over two centuries. Like the need for revenge and retribution and justice.

“Nigel.”

Ross Marchand’s nasty butler nearly leaped out of his skin. He skidded the rest of the way down the stairs and landed in a heap on the marble floor.

“Who’s there?” he asked again, his voice cracking with fear.

Aiden chuckled. “Your conscience, Nigel. You’ve been a very naughty boy, haven’t you? Treating Ms. Cole with such rude disdain.”

“She’s an upstart! With no class and no…”

The butler stopped when he realized, judging by the look on his face, that he was talking to nothing but air. Muttering about medication, he made a mad dash up the stairs, passing through Aiden on his way, loudly questioning his sanity with every step. He stopped at the top, swung around and, with both hands braced on either side of the banister, waited.

“Come out, if you’re there!” he ordered.

Aiden remained utterly silent, the only noise a light scratching at the patio door two rooms away.

Aiden theorized that Lauren might have once owned this home with Ross. That would explain why Nigel knew the security codes and his way around. Aiden wondered about the guards, but as they were stationed on the far perimeter of the house, he could do nothing to alert them.

No, best to take care of this situation on his own. Well, maybe not entirely alone.

The scratching intensified, followed by a hungry whine.

In his mind, Aiden pictured the glass door to the patio. With a mental twist and a push, the portal swung open. He heard the telling beep, followed by the scuffle and click of four thick paws on the floor. He’d always been impressed by his lover’s choice of canine companions—especially when he recalled the enmity between the dog and the butler when they resided at the house overlooking the ocean. Aiden could only hope that absence hadn’t made the heart grow fonder.

Aiden whistled softly.

The dog stalked into the foyer, then turned his massive black and brown head quizzically toward the staircase, sniffed, then growled—a sound that was both low and menacing.

Aiden moved to the top of the stairs and whistled again.

The dog inched forward, then stopped dead and growled more loudly.

“Come now, Apollo. There’s a tasty morsel up here for you.”

The dog bent downward, his square jaw nearly touching the ground even as his hindquarters were raised high, the dog struggling between the instinct to protect and attack, and the fact that he could not see the man who had called him.

“Have it your way. I’ll bring your breakfast to you, then.” Aiden thought a moment before moving into the bedroom, where he found Nigel rifling beneath Lauren’s bed.

The man truly had no shame.

“Where is it?” he asked aloud. “Look at me, acting like a common thief. And…”

Nigel stopped his rant when he retrieved a long, flat box from underneath Lauren’s bed and whooped, triumphantly. He pried off the top, threw aside a layer of thin tissue paper, then gasped, pulling out what looked like a man’s private parts, cast in a rather authentic substitute for real skin.

“How disgusting!”

Aiden kicked out. The box skittered back under the bed and Nigel yelped in surprise. The cock and balls flew into the air. Aiden had no idea why Lauren owned such an authentic representation of a man’s family jewels, but he sniggered all the same.

He hovered so close to Nigel, he could smell kippers on his breath.

“Boo,” he whispered.

Nigel slammed backward, knocking the lamp off Lauren’s bedside table. He screamed, then scrambled out of the room and bolted down the stairs. Aiden did not need to watch what happened next. He heard the barks, the growls, the screams and the rending of clothes. With a yawn born of the time of day, Aiden settled into the nothingness and, satisfied, drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.

***

Helen cursed. The last vehicles she wanted to see parked outside Lauren’s house were two police cars and an ambulance. From behind the wheel of her Jeep Cherokee she scanned the street, looking for the paparazzi, but beyond two women with fluffy dogs and a guy chatting on his cell phone, none of the ravenous photogs had descended on the scene just yet. But they had police scanners, the vultures. They’d hear Lauren’s address and be here any minute. Helen could only hope that Lauren was still at the studio.

She parked on the curb and dashed by a uniformed officer to one of Lauren’s security guards, Gino, who was sitting on a stool beside his guard stand with a paramedic hovering over him and an ice pack pressed to the base of his skull.

“What happened?”

“Damned fool knocked me out.”

“What damned fool?”

Another set of paramedics was rolling a gurney toward them, and Helen’s heart jammed into the back of her throat. Only when she saw that an older man was lying prone and bloody on it did she regain her ability to breathe.

He looked vaguely familiar.

“Who was that?”

“Nigel,” Gino replied.

“Ross’s butler?”

Gino nodded, but the action made him wince. “Idiot drove up an hour ago. Used an old code to open the gate, then nearly ran me down when I blocked the driveway. Said Mr. Marchand had left something in the house that he needed or some shit, but I knew Ms. Cole didn’t want her ex or any of his employees anywhere near the place, so I told him to move along. He got out of the car. Must have had a tire iron hidden behind his back. He clocked me. Knocked me out cold.”

The paramedic pushed Helen aside and rechecked Gino’s pupils, declared him to be suffering from a slight concussion and insisted he get into the ambulance.

“I’ll be fine,” he claimed, but Helen could tell he was just being typically male.

“Go with the ambulance. I’ll call the studio and have them send over a detail to watch the house until you’re back.”

Unsteadily, Gino stood. Helen was watching him go toward the ambulance when she spied Nigel again.

“Wait! Gino, how’d he get so beat up if you didn’t—?”

“Apollo,” he replied. “Good thing Cinda brought him home this morning.”

Helen’s knees weakened. Police were traipsing up and down Lauren’s driveway. Another squad car had just pulled up. She could only imagine what they’d done to Lauren’s dog if he’d threatened the boys in blue when they first arrived. She started running up the driveway, hampered by her three-inch heels, only to find Gino’s counterpart, Billy or Bruiser or someone or other, holding the dog by the collar on the front porch while petting him soothingly.

Relief gave way to anger.

“Okay,” Helen said to the second guard, “your partner got clocked and the butler broke in. Looks like Apollo stopped him from taking anything, but where the hell were you?”

“Taking a leak,” the man shot back. “Bad timing, I guess.”

“Looks like.”

Helen bent down and gave Apollo’s ears a scratch. “You’re an ugly, scary beast, but that’s why Lauren loves you, isn’t it?”

The dog sighed, dropped to four paws with his head in the security guard’s lap and watched with keen eyes and a still tail as the strangers roamed his domain. Thank God he was well trained. Relieved that she didn’t have to break the news to Lauren that the police had shot her dog, Helen made her way into the house.

“No press,” a uniformed officer said.

Helen smirked. “Do I look like press?”

“Anchorwoman, sure,” the cop said, flirting.

She rolled her eyes. She was so through with men. “I’m the owner’s best friend. Was anything taken?”

“Doesn’t look like it, but you might want to give your friend a call so we can be sure.”

Helen pulled out her cell phone and reached Cinda on Lauren’s phone. After instructing the assistant to get Lauren home as quickly and quietly as possible, she disconnected the call and took a look around. Over the next twenty minutes the cops filed outside one at a time, speculating about whether the man who’d bypassed the security system was a crazed fan, or wondering who else had spied the dildo lying on Lauren’s bed.

Great. Just fucking great
. Helen made a quick call to Lauren’s publicist, and they hammered out a game plan for how to handle that little bit of choice news once it was leaked to the press, which would be in less than an hour, by normal Hollywood standards. Some cop would think it was funny to list that item in the police report and the rest would be history.

Helen decided to march up the stairs and make sure none of L.A.’s finest decided it would be a fun idea to take the sex toy into evidence or to sell it on eBay.

Once in the bedroom, she spotted it immediately, peeking out from between some pillows.

She leaned forward to get a closer look.

“I think I bought that for her,” she said.

“Why on earth would you do that?”

Helen jumped and spun, expecting to see Aiden behind her. But he wasn’t there. No one was. But she’d clearly heard his voice.

“Aiden?”

She leaned into the hallway. It was deserted. She explored the nearby rooms and found them all unoccupied. Had she imagined his voice?

It was possible, she supposed. She reached into her pocket and retrieved the tarnished gold button Ben Rousseau had given her just a few hours before. Okay, so she’d had two pomegranate martinis. She certainly wasn’t drunk. After her meeting she’d stopped into the hotel spa for a quick manicure and pedicure, allowing herself plenty of time to sober up before she got into the car. Unsure when Lauren was expected on the set and unable to reach her on the cell, she’d swung by the house on her way to the studio, hoping to smooth any residual hard feelings from the night before and to talk to her about Aiden’s long-lost nephew and his request for contact. She’d stumbled onto the break-in purely by accident.