Viper Moon (15 page)

Abby was silent for a moment. She sighed. “I suppose it’s my fault. I expressed concern about you being around that man, the one they call the Archangel. He is dangerous. She apparently agreed. She can see into the Barrows, I think, even if she cannot go there. I suspect she thinks Detective Flynn a better match for you.”

“That’s bullshit.” I rubbed my gun-hand callus, reminding myself who I was and what I did. Michael was . . . Michael. Somehow, I’d placed him in a separate class from the rest of them. “Everyone tells me that he’s evil, but when I press for specifics, I receive nothing. Flynn is the only person who has pointed out crimes, but even he admits there’s no real evidence.”

Michael had admitted he wasn’t perfect, but he’d suggested that his motives were what he considered acceptable. “Is Michael dangerous because he’s not one of hers? Or dangerous because she thinks he’ll seduce me away from her?”

“I have no idea, but, Cass, there’s more to it. In the years that I’ve known you . . . never have I seen—Your aura, and Flynn’s, which I can see quite well, are in harmony. They fit together like a complex puzzle. They’re different, vastly different, but incredibly close to a perfect pattern.”

The aura thing was a mystery to me, but, yes, it felt like he fit, like he belonged in my life. But what did he feel? I’d had few signals from him. He’d expressed a little admiration, but not enough to make me think it went beyond casual compliments to ease tension. And he irritated the shit out of me a lot. Not the most auspicious beginning to a great love affair of soul mates.

The meal went well. Good food and no talk of the problem we all faced. A charming woman, Amanda Flynn. When she left, Flynn followed her out to his truck. We didn’t get to hear that conversation. When Flynn came back, he thanked Abby. Polite, but not overly friendly. She accepted his words, giving him a warm smile I certainly didn’t think he deserved.

It was nine o’clock and full dark when we left Abby’s house.

“What now?” Flynn asked.

“I need to go home and feed Horus. He gets cranky when he doesn’t get his dinner on time. I don’t like going into the Barrows after dark unless I have a sure target. Too dangerous. We won’t help anyone if we get killed.” The look on his face made me want to reassure him. “I’m not finished, Flynn. I have a lot more area to cover.”

There was also a lot less time to cover it. If I thought of one thing I could do down there, I’d have gone. The whole situation had the feel of a well-choreographed dance. I also had a feeling it would come to the dark moon night and a final raging battle. The Mother made plans and let me in on them at her convenience, not mine. But bad things could happen to Selene and Richard before then. If I could end things before that, I would.

Flynn didn’t speak as we rode—the steaming air didn’t encourage conversation, but I was very aware of his presence. It was much like last night, when I woke to find him sleeping beside me. Even then, he’d provoked powerful emotions in me.

When I reached my apartment house, the lot was full and I had to park by the Dumpster. That meant my car would be incredibly fragrant in the morning.

Horus and the girls waited expectantly as we walked in the door.

To my complete surprise, Flynn produced two jars of caviar from his pocket and handed them to me. I mixed it with tuna. Yum!

“So, what do you usually do at night?” Flynn asked as I set the saucers of fishy mixture on the table. He glanced around the room. “No TV.”

“Cable costs too much. I read.” I pointed at the bookcase. “There’re some magazines. Help yourself.”

He walked to the bookcase and pawed through them. “
Gun Digest
,
Herpetology Today
.” He held up one. “
Farmer’s Almanac with Moon Signs
. No mysteries? No romance novels? You don’t even have Tolkien.”

“No Tolkien. Fantasy is the real thing for me. Mystery, too. I don’t want to read it.” I plopped down on the couch. I avoided staring at him, even though I wanted to. “And I don’t do romance.” I’d read Tolkien in high school, happily unaware that, someday, I’d meet the Barrows version of his Orcs.

Flynn came to sit beside me. Close enough to be intimate, but not close enough to make me uncomfortable. In fact, it felt quite good. I’m a woman who had snakes and a demanding, hardscrabble cat for friends. Unable to articulate my bizarre life to a stranger, I’d always preferred being alone most of the time.

“I don’t do romance, either,” he said. His voice was heavy with unspoken words. “Must be something wrong with us.” He shifted his body off the miserable cushion he’d had to sit on because I knew enough to pick the good one. “Now I remember why I didn’t sleep here last night.”

“Yeah, well, my decorator is happy.”

Flynn grinned at me. Oh, that smile—so provocative, so delightful. “Your decorator is salesman of the month at the Salvation Army thrift store.”

With no effort at all, he was drawing me in, making me feel things I had no right to feel. In my mind, Flynn was just as dangerous as Michael
. I don’t do romance
, he had said. Great. He could take me and eventually reject me. I stood. “If all you’re going to do is insult my furniture, I’m going to take a shower.”

I stuck my nose in the air and marched away. I went into the bathroom, showered, and dressed in a T-shirt. This time I put some stretchy leggings on instead of my panties. Just in case. I mean, he probably wouldn’t get in bed with me again. Probably.

I went back into the living room and found Flynn reading a copy of
Gun Digest
. His long legs were stretched out, and one of the dark curls of his hair had fallen on his forehead. He had a soft smile on his face, as if something in the magazine amused him. Nefertiti had draped herself over his shoulders. I’d told the girls and Horus that he was one of us. They accepted him, but it seemed odd that he would accept them.

“You actually like snakes?” I asked.

“No.” He frowned. “I like this one, though.”

He gently lifted Nefertiti from his shoulders, laid her on the couch cushion. She slid down onto the floor, crawled up the coffee table leg, and into her aquarium home.

“Why don’t you do romance?” Flynn asked. I saw no mockery on his face, nor did I hear it in his voice. “It can’t be only the snakes.”

“True. But all my romances end the same. I usually say, ‘Don’t mind the gun and knives, darling. I almost never use them. And, yes, I need to go out alone at midnight . . . You be sure you close the door on your way out.’ I’m told I’m too belligerent, too pushy.” My eyes narrowed at him. “What about you? No romance, either?” I was curious. Maybe he would tell me about the woman that had caused him so many problems, he’d sworn off relationships.

“The career. I work a lot. Living with a cop is hard on a woman. My mother’s proof of that. I watched her sit and stare out the window some nights when dad was late. I knew she was afraid someone would come to tell her he’d been injured or killed. And then one night . . . He’d walked in on a robbery. Never had a chance.”

“Didn’t your mother object when you wanted to become a cop?”

“Oh, yeah. But she knew it was what I really wanted to do. What I had always wanted to do.” He moved his arm and winced as he did.

“You’re hurt?”

“Old shoulder wound. I tried to disarm some distraught teenager rather than shoot him. He was acting out his frustrations with society by robbing a convenience store.”

I grinned. I lifted my sleeve and exposed the now almost invisible puncture wounds on my left shoulder. “This hurts sometimes, too, but Abby gave me something for it.” I went back to the bathroom and retrieved my jar of salve from the medicine cabinet. I wanted to know about romance and he talked career.

I went back to the living room. “Take your shirt off. This will help.”

He remained seated but stripped off the shirt. I sat beside him.

Oh, shit. Oh, damn. What had I done? Such a fine body. I opened the jar and hesitated only a fraction of a second, but . . . he smiled. Damn it. He knew he was getting to me. He told his mother I was
okay,
but that wasn’t an
okay
smile. I smeared the salve on his shoulder, rubbing it into the thick muscle. Abby had added sandalwood to the mixture and the sweet fragrance filled the air. A thin scar ran down his arm. I turned sideways, and as I did, he laid a hand on my knee, cupping it gently.

I swallowed hard. My mind screamed
Stop!
but my body almost vibrated in desire. I forced it away. He wasn’t for me. He’d called me a pagan gunslinger, after all.

“How strong are you?” he asked. He stared intently at me. His hand was still on my knee.

Was that a challenge? I could deal with that. “Stronger than you. Faster, too.”

“Prove it.” He cocked his head and gave me a sexy, playful smile. No man smiled at me like that.
Playful
described only one man in my life, and that relationship ended in tragedy years ago.

“Prove it? Okay.” Once I beat him, his masculine pride would send him sulking away. And, no, that was not bitterness I felt. It was practicality. If I didn’t stay practical, this man would break my heart. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” He raised an eyebrow and sounded surprised that I’d accepted the challenge.

“A place where you won’t get hurt again.”

I led him out of the apartment and up the stairs to the apartment house’s flat roof. It was late enough on a weekday night that we would be alone. Last year, I had joined the other tenants in purchasing a large weatherproof cushioned mat for the kids to play on when the weather was nice. It measured twenty feet by twenty feet and we rolled it up and stuck it in the basement during the winter. My contribution to the cause came under the heading of self-defense. It meant that at least part of the year, I wouldn’t have yard apes running up and down the hall screaming at the top of their lungs.

The roof soaked up the day’s heat and now released it in vast humid waves. Sweat instantly formed on my skin as my body tried to compensate. We’d both be soaked in seconds. A single lightbulb over the stairwell door cast a sickly yellow glow that barely reached the safety railing around the roof edges. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the promise of a storm teasing the parched city.

Flynn hadn’t put his shirt back on and he stood there, his skin shining and wet. Great Mother! I wiped my mouth to be sure I wasn’t drooling. Okay, but any desire would go away as soon as I pissed him off by beating him in a fight.

I planted my bare feet firmly on the mat. “Take me down.”

“You’re kidding.” He walked closer, moving with effortless grace.

“Not kidding. Take me down.”

He stood within reach now. “No. I don’t fight women.” Sexist bastard. My competitive spirit rose in me. “Hah! Afraid you’ll lose?”

He stepped closer and I circled. I spun and kicked out at him, knowing I wouldn’t reach him, but backing him up just the same.

Flynn charged.

The force of his attack sent me peddling back, but I ducked low and caught his ankle and jerked it out. He went down. Shocked, I’d bet, but he gracefully rolled and jumped to his feet. He charged again. I pivoted and danced out of the way. I swallowed. Excitement rose in me, so much I had to force myself not to shove my hand between my legs and ease the fire.

“This is fun,” he said. He laughed low and sexy, taunting me. “But how does it prove you’re stronger?” He held his arms out. “Come and get me.”

He didn’t take me seriously, of course. He didn’t even move when I caught his arm and jammed my shoulder into him midbody. But then I rolled him over my shoulder, straightened, lifted him, and tossed him ten feet across the mat. He landed on his back and a great whoosh of air burst from his lungs. Not easy, that move, even for me, but I was motivated. This is, of course, what drove men from my bed. Not the snakes or the gun, but my need to win, to be the alpha.

Flynn lay there for a moment, breathing deeply. Oh, shit. Had I hurt him?

“You okay?” I went and knelt by his side. I squeezed my hands into fists, trying not to touch him.

“Yes.” He sounded a little breathy. “How did you do that?”

“Magic. Same as the snakes.”

“Bullshit.”

“Tell Nirah and Nefertiti. Flynn, you accepted them. Can’t you accept that I’m different? That I might be telling you the truth. That there are some things in this world you don’t understand?” He groaned. I leaned closer. Had I hurt him?

Stupid. He grabbed me and rolled. I was on my back with him straddling my hips. He captured my wrists in a firm but not crushing grip.

“You’re heavy,” I said. Not really, but, damn, he looked good leaning over me. He drew a deep breath, his face flushed, but his dark eyes focused on me. He wasn’t exactly handsome, but he was perfect. I’d lost the fight. I freed indomitable, repressed desire and let it flow through me. I’d pay the price eventually, but I had to have him now.

“You tossed me across this mat like a kid.” He grinned. “What kind of vitamins do you take, the cavemen or the little dinosaurs?”

“No vitamins. Nutritious meals. The basic food groups—pizza, burgers, and cheesecake. If I make it to my feet—”

“You can’t.”

I could. I wouldn’t. We were playing a delicious game and I didn’t want it to end too soon. Every inch of my body demanded that he never let me go. So greedy. I wanted more.

“Tell you what.” He released my right wrist. “You can have one hand. How’s that?”

“I can do a lot with one hand, Flynn.”

“Such as?” His laugh came deep, low, and seductive. Great Mother, let him want me as much as I wanted him.

I grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and jerked it up to expose my breasts.

Flynn gasped. Ah, the power of the unexpected.

I arched my back and tossed him off. He landed hard and rolled, but I was after him. Then I straddled him as he had me and held his wrists as he had held mine. He struggled, but couldn’t break my grip. I wiggled against him. How totally gratifying. He was big and hard between my legs, rubbing me just right. Once I got our clothes off, got him inside me . . .