Tempted in the Night (36 page)

His face grew serious. "But right now, I'm only interested in—you."

In a blur of movement, he grabbed her and pulled her against him, her back to his front. She struggled to break free while his fetid breath whisked across the side of her face, making her sick.

"You won't get away with this," she warned. "John is just outside. He'll be here any second, looking for me."

Brody gave an asthmatic, wheezing laugh. "That's what I'm counting on."

At that moment, as if on cue, the door to the sanctuary opened and even before he appeared, John's voice carried to her.
"Jess, honey.
What's taking so long?" He came to a stop as soon as he saw them. Jess used her eyes to plead with him to be careful.

"Let her go, Brody."

"I don't think so, John." Brody brought up his free hand and she saw that he was holding John's gun with the modified bullets. "Recognize this? Yeah, I thought you might. I took the liberty of testing it myself and whatever is in these bad boys works like a champ on vampires. That's when I realized that your vampire buddy must not have survived." There was a pause. "I feel bad about that," he said, without sounding the least bit remorseful. "I was aiming for you,
Boehler
. I realize now that the toxin in these bullets might not hurt you like it does vampires, but tell me, you're not
bulletproof
, are you?"

Jess watched the frustration on John's face and felt Brody laugh behind her. "That's what I thought. Let's go." He motioned with the gun to the side door that led out of the sanctuary.

With hands raised, John walked in front of them while Jess followed, Brody's arm still pinning her to him. They went through the first door and down a short hallway to a second door that led to an outside courtyard, about the size of two tennis courts. In the center stood a massive oak tree, surrounded by both paved and
graveled
areas with benches scattered throughout where people could sit and read or relax. Right then it was empty.

Brody motioned them over to the large tree and when they reached it, he shoved Jess forward. John caught her before she fell.

"Please don't," Jess pleaded as he
leveled
his gun at them.

"Oh, but I must." He pulled the trigger.

John jerked beside her and fell back. Jess could only stare, feeling confused. It took a moment for everything to filter past the shock and then she screamed.

He'd shot John. Just like that. No warning. No nothing. In the dark, she couldn't see where the bullet had hit him, but he wasn't moving. She prayed he wasn't dead and dropped to her knees by his side.

Before she could touch him, Brody grabbed her by the arm and jerked her up.

"Forget it. He's dead."

"You killed him. You killed him." It seemed the only thing she was capable of saying. Her hand flew to her mouth as her mind shut down. John was gone and her life was over. He'd never even known that she loved him. Rage erupted inside her, pushing all other thoughts aside. She turned on Brody, no longer caring if he killed her, and beat at him with fisted hands and feet. "You killed him!" she screamed.

"That was the point," Brody shouted back, using both hands, while still holding the gun in one, to capture her fists. He forced her back against the trunk of the tree and pinned her there. "It never was about you. Writing your name on the walls? Breaking into your bedroom?
The attacks?
None of that was about you. I've wanted to kill this son of a bitch for a long time. You were just a means to an end." She stared at him in stunned horror and it made him smile. "Don't look so disappointed, angel. Now that he's gone, we can have our fun."

"You know your problem, Brody? You're too quick to assume you've won." A flurry of movement and a resounding click accompanied John's words as he jumped to his feet and pressed the barrel of a gun to Brody's temple.

Brody's eyes opened wide, but he didn't move. "How
… ?"

"Ever hear of Kevlar, asshole? Too bad they don't make helmets." John gave Brody a nasty smile and pulled the trigger of his gun.

Jess jumped at the sound and watched as Brody's body jerked and then crumpled to the ground. She stared at him, unable to look away, her mind automatically blocking out the details of skull and brain matter sprayed across the courtyard—or the fact that Brody was now missing half of his head.

She felt something damp and sticky all over her face, but refused to think about what it was. Only two things mattered to her at the moment. Brody was dead—and John was alive.

The latter seemed like a miracle too good to be true and she turned as if in slow motion to look at John, needing to reassure herself that he really was standing there.

"I thought you were dead."

"I know," he said gently. "And I'm sorry. I had a feeling he'd try something tonight, so I took precautions."

"But you didn't bother to tell me about it?" She was getting angry. "How come I wasn't wearing Kevlar?"

"He wasn't going to shoot you. That's not his style. You forget
,
I've studied this man for a long time. I knew that whatever he had planned for you, he'd wait until I was out of the way. I wanted him to think he'd accomplished that so I could catch him off guard."

He seemed almost proud of himself, which just made her even angrier. "What if he'd shot you in the head?"

"He didn't."

She punched him in the chest. "But he could have." He shrugged, as much as saying it was a moot point. She knew that if she thought too much about his cavalier attitude, she'd go
nuts,
so instead, she focused on what needed to be done next. "We need to stake him—or cut off his head."

"You really think that's necessary?" John gaped at her. "He's not going anywhere."

She tried to imagine the reaction of the priest—or a member of the congregation—walking into the courtyard. Even if they came upon Brody after sunrise, after the body had turned, the stone version of a man with his head blown off would be shocking. "We can't leave him here."

A breeze stirred around them in the courtyard and a shadow at the edge of the roof moved, catching Jess's eye. She turned and saw one of the stone gargoyles rise up on his hind legs. Standing almost six feet tall, he was darker than the night sky around him, but his crimson eyes pierced the black like beacons of impending doom. Diablo beat his wings and the wind he stirred rattled the limbs of the tree and buffeted them below.

Slowly, he rose into the air and for a moment, simply hovered, surveying all below him in the courtyard. Then his gaze found Brody's body and he flew toward them. John grabbed Jess's arm and pulled her back and they both watched as Diablo swooped down and grabbed the body, his sharp claws sinking deep.

Then he rose up into the sky, circling the courtyard, rising a little higher with each circuit until finally he disappeared from view.

"Come on," John said, grabbing her hand and leading her back through the church. They exited the front door and walked across the street, stopping once they were on the other side.

"There." John pointed to something in the sky that Jess couldn't see. She looked more closely and finally spied the white of Brody's shirt, a mere speck that gradually grew larger as Diablo began his descent.

Still well above the highest spire of the church, Diablo opened his claws and released the body.

It
plummeted
downward, arms and legs flopping against the air rushing past him, looking like a rag doll dropped from a great height. Then there was a sickening crunch as the body landed on the spire and the tip shot through the chest.

Too shocked to form coherent thought, Jess stared in morbid fascination while Diablo landed on the corner of the chapel.

She understood now what would happen. Diablo would sit there all night, watching over the body. In the morning, Diablo and Brody would both turn to stone; Diablo until the next sun set and Brody until the first stiff breeze reduced him to dust and blew him away.

Whether John's bullet had killed Brody or not, by dawn he was dead.
The nightmare was over.

"There's no need for us to stay," John said after a while. "Let's go home."

The drive back to the mansion passed in a blur as Jess's mind replayed the events of the evening. She couldn't believe it was all over. Brody was gone, and now there was no reason for John to stick around. The thought of never seeing him again depressed her like nothing else had.

"I need to shower," she mumbled as soon as they arrived. She didn't dare look at him because if she did, she knew she wouldn't be able to hide her emotions. She hurried inside and once she reached the safety of the bathroom, closed the door. She turned on the shower and when the water was hot, stripped out of her blood-spattered clothes and threw them into the wastebasket. She wasn't even interested in trying to salvage them.

Once in the shower, all she could do was stand under the pelting water, too tired to even try to soap off. She let the force of the spray wash away the blood and dirt and troubles. It also washed away the emotional
defenses
she'd kept erected so long. When the tears came, she couldn't stop them.

"Hey, what's this?" John's voice, gentle and warm, came to her moments later as he opened the shower door and stepped over the side of the tub to join her. He was completely naked and she was so shocked to see him, she wasn't sure how to react.

"I would have asked permission to join you, but I was afraid you'd turn me down," he told her as he pulled her out of the water's stream and gently moved a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I don't think my heart could survive your rejection. I love you too damn much."

He pulled her into his arms, and she couldn't have resisted him even if she'd wanted to. He bent his head, touching his lips to hers, hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure if she'd welcome his kiss. Her emotions already raw and exposed, she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss, sharing by gesture her love for him, her fear of losing him, and the grief that would come when he left her.

She had no idea if he understood any of what she felt, but when she swept her tongue against his lips in blatant invitation, he opened his mouth and the kiss turned heated. She clung to him almost desperately, branding the feel of him against her lips and body so she would always have it to remember him by.

And he felt so good. She couldn't touch enough of him with her hands; couldn't get close enough to him with her body. She needed him inside her, and it wasn't until she felt the blunt probing of his shaft between her legs that she realized he'd lifted her up so that her legs were wrapped around his waist and her back was against the wall.

He entered her with a single stroke and then lifted her slowly only to drive himself into her again. Water sluiced over them, teasing skin already made hypersensitive by passion.

"Again," she whispered when it seemed he was taking his time. He immediately responded by pulling out and thrusting himself into her. It felt like he was holding back, perhaps afraid that he might hurt her, but she wanted all of him. Everything he had to give. "Harder," she cried when he pulled out of her.

Finally, he seemed to understand and he
plowed
into her, repeatedly and with such force that all she could do was hold on for dear life. It was exactly what she wanted, what she needed.

The tension rapidly built inside of her until she wanted to scream. Her release loomed just out of reach and still the pressure grew. She knew that all she had to do was surrender to it and it would carry her over the edge into sweet release, but she resisted, wanting to
savor
each and every moment.

Then she felt John's mouth against her neck, felt the tip of his tongue making swirling motions against her skin, followed by the light scraping of his fangs. When he gently sucked the skin, she felt the pull on her nipples and the tension inside of her increased.

Faster and harder, John drove himself into her until she couldn't hold out any longer and with a breathless cry, she toppled over the edge and rode the wave, barely conscious of John's primal yell as his body stiffened and he spilled his seed into her.

It seemed to take forever to come down off the high of their lovemaking, but eventually, John pulled out of her, holding her to him until she was steady on legs that shook from the intensity of her emotions.

John smiled at her when she looked, almost shyly, up into his face. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. And you?"

"Never better."
He picked up a bar of soap and lathered his hands before running them across her shoulders. The feel of his hands on her body felt so good that she couldn't keep her eyes open. She wanted nothing to distract her from the sensation. "What are you doing? Not that I want you to stop," she said as his hands moved to her breasts.

"I didn't get to pay homage to your beautiful body earlier, so I'm making up for it now." He leaned forward and kissed her briefly, before running his hands up along her neck. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

It was her turn to smile. "No. You didn't even break the skin."

She heard the low rumble of his laugh. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh." She felt her cheeks grow warm. "No, you didn't hurt me there either. In fact, you were… it was… great."