Destin Jourdain didn’t immediately take the hand as he stood, imposing at his full, towering height, his voice a low, bass rumble she could feel in her chest. “No, Miss Rhys. You’ll find whoever this rogue is and bring the information to me. The Order will take care of it.”
Her hesitation was brief. Typically, rogue discipline was handed out by the vampire’s master, but if Rodolfo was condoning, perhaps even encouraging the murder of witches than not only was he no better, but it was doubtful justice would be meted out in any fashion. If Rodolfo was behind this, it would be fitting to leave him to suffer whatever retribution the Order chose to bring down upon the peacock’s head. “Consider it done.”
Chapter Seven
Jamie was awake and typing away on her laptop when Morgan entered her room. Kane was there as well, playing some game or another on his cellphone. “Did either of you get any sleep?”
“Not yet,” was Kane’s mumbled response while Jamie, not bothering to look up from her screen, lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “A couple of hours, I was too excited about cracking this.” The blonde shook her head. “Top tier stuff, let me tell you. No one has this much security unless they’re extremely paranoid or hiding something.”
Hearing that Rodolfo had impressive firewalls in place wasn’t a surprise, hearing that they were actually stymying Jamie, however, was. “Canyou crack it?”
Another lift of the shoulder, but firm conviction in her voice as she replied, “Eventually. I just hope I don’t go through all this trouble just to find a schedule full of dry-cleaning pickup dates and dentist appointments. Give me something juicy.”
“How about you, boss? When was the last time you slept?” Kane asked, standing from his chair to stretch, the action finally getting Jamie to lift her eyes from her screen long enough to admire the view as Kane’s navy-blue T-shirt rose just slightly from the top of his jeans to expose an inch of golden, muscular abs. Even Morgan had a hard time averting her eyes and she’d known Kane since he was a boy.
Kane was one of the unfortunate Born whose perfect looks had been a burden. With his chocolate brown hair just a shade lighter than his eyes, long eyelashes, high cheekbones, and full lips, he’d been downright pretty through his childhood and into his teen years, a fact that had drawn too much unwanted attention from both males and females alike. Morgan had actually come to his rescue one time when she’d discovered him at a mere thirteen years old cornered by a decidedly lecherous elder. The experience was no doubt responsible for the beard Kane insisted on keeping as well as the amount of time he spent in weight rooms bulking up. Kane Fletcher would never be in a position where he was unable to defend himself again. Not if he could help it.
Shaking off the rather disturbing memory, Morgan shot her teammate a weak smile and answered his question. “Going on almost seventy-two hours now. I’m due.”
“Well it won’t be tonight,” Jamie said with a nod of her head toward the back corner where a sparkling blue cocktail dress Morgan had never seen before, now hung. “Rodolfo’s throwing some kind of party. The servant left a dress for you as well in your room.”
Morgan groaned. She was tired and calculating the hours she’d been awake had only highlighted just how exhausted she was. She certainly wasn’t in the mood to put on a fancy dress, smile and socialize with a bunch of strangers. Especially these strangers. In this pit of vipers, she needed her leather, Kevlar, and a full arsenal of weapons at her disposal.
Kane grinned at her obvious displeasure and settled back into his seat. “How’d it go with your meeting?” he asked in low tones so as not to be overheard by any prying ears that might be hovering close by.
Filling them both in on the body she’d stumbled upon as well as her meeting with Jourdain, Morgan handed Travis St. John’s business card over to Jamie. “Take a break on what you’re doing for a minute and run a check on this guy for me, would you?”
“Do you think he has something to do with the murders?” Jamie asked, frowning at the printed card.
Not wanting to admit that whoever the male was, he threw her system all out of whack as well as the fact that her interest in him went beyond professional, Morgan offered, “He may be able to give us some more insight into the killings, but I need to know who I’m dealing with.”
Jamie gave a sharp nod. “On it, boss.”
It took less time than Morgan had imagined for Jamie to release a curious “Hm”.
“Did you find anything?”
“I’ll need to dig a bit deeper to be sure, it may just be a blip,” was the woman’s distracted response before Jamie tucked her lower lip between her teeth and hunched further over her laptop.
“What kind of blip?”
“The kind that tells me he might not be who he’s pretending to be, but as I said, I want to look deeper before I confirm that hunch. Give me an hour.”
Disappointment curdled in Morgan’s belly that Officer Travis St. John might not be one of the good guys like she’d assumed. She should have trusted her instincts, haywire or not, rather than drawing conclusions based on a keen physical attraction and a law enforcement uniform. After all, law-abiding mortals didn’t send her fight or flight instincts into overdrive from several yards away and leave her wanting to sink her teeth into them and drain them dry.
With a tired sigh, Morgan headed for the door. “I’m going to see if I can catch a quick nap before tonight’s torture session. Call me if you find anything.”
The first thing she noticed upon entering her room, was the black garment bag laid out on the bed. Unzipping it, she discovered a dress of scarlet silk, the fabric so thin and clingy she most likely wouldn’t be able to wear undergarments much less conceal a weapon. With a wry twist of her lips, she held it up to her form and stood in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.
Backless, with spaghetti straps, a deep plunging neckline and a slit up one side, the dress reminded her more of sexy lingerie donned to arouse a lover in the bedroom rather than something one would wear to a party. It definitely wasn’t a dress she wanted to wear for someone like Olivier Rodolfo. Travis St. John on the other hand…
In a moment of weakness, Morgan imagined descending the grand staircase in this dress to meet the tall, rugged police officer. With a look of admiration on his handsome face, he’d hold out his hand to her and sweep her into his arms as he whispered how beautiful she looked. They’d dance, barely making it a full circuit around the dancefloor before their mutual need had them hurrying to the privacy of her room like playful youths in the first bloom of passion. There, his strong calloused fingers would strip the dress from her body while his mouth devoured hers…
Morgan groaned as she pushed the tantalizing daydream away and turned her back on her reflection. Fantasies were all well and good, but she had to keep in mind that it couldn’t ever be more than that. Never mind that he had some weird effect on her that she couldn’t even begin to understand, the first night she’d seen him, she’d assumed she had been looking at a loving family, and while she hadn’t seen a ring on his finger today, an absence of jewelry meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Never would she trespass on another woman’s territory. He also, if Jamie’s hunch was right – which they usually were – wasn’t who he claimed to be, and that was a giant red flag, not to mention that Travis St. John was human.
Humans bruised far too easily, their bodies fragile, bones were broken with little effort in a moment of passion unless she kept a firm rein on her preternatural strength and the last thing a man like St. John inspired in her was a tepid, cautious coupling. She didn’t want to worry that her grip was too tight or that she might inadvertently hurt him in the heat of the moment. Such caution was guaranteed to take her out of the moment and spoil the pleasure for her, if not both of them. Best not to even bother, she decided with a sigh of disappointment.
With one last mental picture of Travis St. John naked in her bed, an image her brain had conjured with the sure intention of torturing her, Morgan ground her molars together until a twinge of pain shot through her temples. She needed to stay focused. This wasn’t a vacation, despite what she may have told Rodolfo. She was here on a job and distractions, no matter that they came in a sexy package, would only put her and her team at risk. She needed to stay sharp, ice-cold in all of her dealings, so super-hot cops had to go.
