Sixth Grave on the Edge Page 10

  At the same time I was exploring him, he was exploring me. It took me a moment to realize part of what I was feeling was my own skin being caressed. My own fires being stoked. His energy brushed over me and around me and into me like liquid smoke, fusing with every particle in my body as he stirred the arousal crackling inside me. I felt his hunger, hot and urgent between my legs, raw and powerful. The air in my lungs thickened as a series of aching spasms grew stronger with each beat of my heart, siphoning me closer and closer until a white-hot orgasm burst inside me, crashing and tumbling and reeling.

  I’d gotten lost in my own swelling desire, but it seemed my climax was all Reyes needed to release his own firestorm. His muscles tensed around me as I felt the sweet sting of his climax spill onto his stomach, the evidence warm on his abdomen.

  I felt him claw at his sheets as the orgasm coursed through him, ebbing only for a microsecond until it spiked again in time with his racing pulse. After a few agonizing moments, it slowly ebbed, leaving only Reyes’s labored breathing in its wake. He’d had a death grip on his sheets. He disentangled his fingers and ran them over his face before covering it with one arm.

  He spoke to me then, his deep voice husky, spent. “Come sleep with me.”

  When I didn’t answer, again unsure if I even could, he rose to clean himself off. I could see him more clearly now, but my touch was still more sensitive in this state than my sight. Something I’d have to work on, would have to strengthen like a muscle.

  I stayed with him until he crawled back into bed and dragged a sheet haphazardly over his bottom half. Then he pressed his hand against the wall, and his lids drifted shut almost immediately. Just before I left, he whispered it again. “Come sleep with me.”

  But he was out. It was odd sensing everything about him and yet not actually seeing him with my eyes but only in my mind’s eye. I could suddenly understand why, when he was growing up, he never knew if I was real or not. He’d thought I was a dream. That was exactly how this felt. Dreamlike. Real and yet not real. Tangible and yet untouchable, as though he would slip through my fingers if I actually tried get hold of him. But I’d done just that. Touched him. Caressed him. Milked him until he came.

  I fell asleep immersed in his essence, in his taste and texture and earthy scent. I also fell asleep with my hand against the wall, his heat warming my palm not six inches away from his.

  8

  Clothes? sufficient

  Keys? found ’em

  Coffee cup? full

  Sanity? sanity?

  —T-SHIRT

  I woke up what seemed like seconds later to a hand over my mouth, and that’s just never a pleasant way to wake up. Alarm spiked so fierce and so fast, Reyes was there instantly, incorporeally, engulfed in his black robe. It grew like a tidal wave around me, and I heard the sing of a blade being drawn. But I didn’t know what was happening. I held up a hand to stop him, trying to gain my bearings. A man in a black ski mask stood over me, a gun in his right hand, the tip of which was lodged against my left temple. A fact that made me very uncomfortable.

  Reyes growled, and I could feel his visceral need to slice through the man, to overtake him. He pushed it back. Swallowed it down. But it wasn’t easy, and his control wouldn’t last long. Which meant I didn’t have long.

  I forced myself to relax, to control my reactions, and sought the intruder’s intentions. Did he want me dead? If so, I was about to unleash an enraged son of Satan on his ass. But I recognized the reason for his presence instantly. He was carrying out orders. I could feel obligation, along with a disturbing sense of enjoyment, rush through him. He was a messenger, a fact that raised the question, whom was the message from?

  The man laid a piece of paper on my chest, then used that hand to clutch my throat. “You have forty-eight hours to find out where they’re keeping her or your friend dies.” He shoved into me, crushing my larynx and jamming the barrel into my temple as a warning. “And no cops.” He shoved again, pushing off me; then he was gone.

  Only as he was leaving did I realize there were two of them. They bolted through my bedroom door, having no idea how close they’d come to having their spines severed.

  I coughed and drew in a deep breath as Reyes’s robe disappeared. He rushed to me. “Who the fuck was that?”

  I held my neck, tested my throat with a quick swallow. “I have no idea. But I’m okay.”

  “Like hell you are.”

  “Wait, my friend?”

  Dread sent a rush of adrenaline shooting up my spine. I jumped up and ran to Cookie’s apartment. She’d locked it, thank God. I pounded on the door, then went back for my key, but she opened the door before I could find it.

  “Charley!” she said, hurrying forward. “What happened?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” Cookie glanced around, wondering why she wouldn’t be.

  “Amber,” I said a second before scrambling to Cookie’s apartment to check her room.

  Cookie was right behind me, as was a flesh and blood Reyes Farrow. He’d thrown on a pair of jeans and come out of his apartment. I opened Amber’s bedroom door and turned on the light. She was sound asleep, her long dark hair tumbling over her pillow like a princess from a fairy tale.

  Cookie whispered behind me. “Charley, what? What’s going on?”

  I turned off the light and closed the door. “I’m so sorry, Cook. Two men just broke into my apartment.”

  “Why the fu—?” Reyes began, his voice loud enough to wake Amber.

  “Reyes,” I said in a breathy hiss, “not here.” He was angry with me once again. Men and their mood swings. Women had nothing on them.

  I led them both back to my apartment, and the minute I closed the door, he tore into me. “What the fuck was that?”

  He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the button on his jeans had yet to be fastened, so it took me a minute to respond. “What? They threatened a friend. They said if I didn’t find some chick in forty-eight hours, my friend was dead.”

  “And?” he asked, getting closer to me. His anger undulated around me, hot and pulsing.

  “And if they are holding a friend of mine, I couldn’t have you severing their spines, now, could I?”

  He whirled away from me with an angry growl.

  Cookie was holding a hand to her chest, not sure what to make of everything. “Two men broke in?” she asked, glancing around.

  “Yes. Oh! The paper.” I hurried back to my room and brought out the paper he’d practically stabbed into my chest. It was a picture of a woman with a name underneath. That was it. “Okay, I have forty-eight hours to find this woman or my friend dies.” I shrugged. “Like I only have one. Which friend?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, lowering herself onto a chair. “Maybe we should call everyone we can think of. Make sure all of your acquaintances are okay. I mean, did it sound like they were actually holding a friend of yours?”

  “Kind of,” I said, thinking back. “I’m not sure. It happened so fast.”

  Reyes was busy pacing like a caged animal, and I couldn’t help but note the fact that he was becoming more attuned to my emotions. He’d appeared the moment alarm rose within me. It was uncanny.

  “I’m sorry, hon,” I said, walking to him. “I just couldn’t take the chance. I needed to know why they were there before I sentenced them to life in a wheelchair.”

  I stopped talking when I noticed the look on his face. He was still angry, but his expression had softened.

  I reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “What?”

  When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, ragged. “You called me hon.”

  A soft laugh escaped me. “It’s a term of endearment.”

  He blinked as though he didn’t know what to think.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever called you hon before? Honey? Sweetheart?”

  “No.”

  I wondered what his human parents had called him when he was a baby. “I bet you have, you just don’t remembe
r.”

  “You should have let me rip them to shreds.”

  “That may be and I may regret that later—in fact, if my track record holds true, I’m fairly certain I will—but for now, I’m fine.”

  He ran a finger down my forearm, not wanting to show too much in front of Cook, most likely.

  “Shouldn’t we call the police?” Cookie asked.

  “They said no cops. I’ll call Uncle Bob and fill him in tomorrow morning.”

  She nodded and rose to go back to her apartment.

  “Yes,” I said, following her out. “Go, get some rest.”

  “Rest?” She pointed to Mr. Coffee. “You start the coffee and I’ll get dressed. We’ll start making phone calls immediately.”

  God, I loved that woman.

  * * *

  We called every friend I’d ever had since the day I was born. Not really, but it felt like it. My friend Pari, a tattoo artist who’d been banned from computers for hacking, complained for twenty minutes that I’d woken her. After an eternity, she finally shut up long enough for me to ask her if she was being held hostage by a group of men in ski masks. Then I had to suffer through another twenty minutes of what a stupid question that was.

  “It wouldn’t have seemed stupid if you really were being held hostage by men in ski masks,” I’d argued. Either way, that was the last time I’d call her at four in the morning.

  By six, I was pretty much out of people that I could call friends. Not that it took me that long to go through the list. It just took that long for people to answer their phones. We had to call some repeatedly, a fact that they did not appreciate one bit.

  Next time, I’d just let the bad men keep them.

  Uncle Bob came over around six thirty, and we explained what had happened. He kept checking out Cookie, worried about the events but dying to know how her date went. I wasn’t about to tell him.

  “I’m hitting the shower,” Reyes said, nodding to Ubie.

  “Don’t hit George.” I scowled at him. His shower was magnificent. I’d named him George because he just didn’t look like a Tom, Dick, or Harry. “What did he ever do to you?”

  Despite Reyes’s rocky disposition, his full mouth showed traces of a smile that reached all the way up to his sparkling mocha-colored eyes, the green and gold flecks brilliant even in the artificial light. He offered me a soft kiss, his mouth brushing across mine before he took it farther, showering tiny kisses along my cheek until he came to my ear. His warm breath stirred my hair as he whispered, “George misses you.” Then he stood and winked playfully.

  But what he did next surprised everyone in the room. He bent down, kissed Cookie on the cheek, and whispered something in her ear, too. I sat stunned. That was the second time he’d kissed her cheek in as many days. After a curt nod to Ubie, he strode out the door.

  “Is there something I need to know about you two?” I asked Cookie.

  It took her a moment to travel back to Earth. When she did, a soft pink glow suffused her face. “He thanked me for being a good friend to you.”

  I put a hand over my heart. That guy. “He can be the sweetest thing when he’s not killing demons and shit.”

  “True,” she said.

  The kiss affected Ubie even more than it did Cookie. I could feel a tinge of jealousy in the mix of emotions radiating out of him. Among them were insecurity, worry, and doubt. Poor guy. If he’d just ask Cookie out, all this would be over. It would only take one of them to be bold enough to make the first move. Freaking wusses.

  “Yeah, I’ll go now, too,” he said, clearing his throat as he stood. “I’m going to send over a uniform—”

  “Uncle Bob, you can’t. They said no police. Just find out what you can about the woman in that picture. We have lots of protection right here.”

  Ubie cursed under his breath, then said, “I’ll send over a plainclothes. I know just who to send. He can be your nephew, Cookie. Do not let him leave your side.” He took a minuscule step closer to her. “Promise me.”

  “Thank you, Robert. I promise.”

  “I’ll come back by this evening to check on you girls.”

  “Oh, well, you could,” I said, thinking ahead, “but Cookie won’t be here. She has another date. Like I said, popular.” I winked at him.

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked. “Considering the circumstances.”

  Cookie was busy giving me the evil eye when she pasted on a smile and turned back to him. “Right, yes, I do. I almost forgot. But if you want to drop by, I could cancel.”

  “Oh, no,” I said, waving a dismissive hand, “Uncle Bob wouldn’t want to ruin your evening just to come by and talk shop—right, Ubie?”

  It took him a moment to force the words past his clenched teeth. “Right. No, you’re right. You go have fun.” He started for the door. “I’ll call this evening to make sure you’re okay.”

  “There’s really no need,” I said to him. My sentence was followed by a slight squeak when Cookie kicked me in the shin. I waved to Ubie, then turned on her. “What are you doing?”

  “What am I doing? What are you doing?”

  “What do you mean what am I doing? I asked you first.”

  “He was coming over,” she said, pointing toward the door. “He wanted to spend time with me.”

  “BS, Cook.” I got up and took my cup to the sink. But only to rinse it out and pour a fresh cup.

  “BS?”

  “Yes, BS. He comes over all the time. He practically lives over here some weeks, but has that gotten you two anywhere? Are you any closer to dating? To making out on my couch? To having hot monkey sex in the bathroom stalls at the Sizzler? I think not.”

  Her shoulders deflated. Slowly. Like a balloon with a tiny pinprick that made the slightest of squeaks as air escaped it. Only she didn’t squeak. “You’re absolutely right.”

  “I am?” I stopped and thought about it. “That doesn’t happen very often.”

  “I know. Enjoy it while it lasts.” When I gaped at her, she said, “What? Everyone knows I’m the brains of this here operation.”

  She had a point. “Okay, I’m going to shower the residue of smoky back rooms and men in ski masks out of my hair.”

  Cookie got up and started washing my dishes.

  “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. Please, stop.” I added a touch of melodrama to be more convincing. “Really, Cookie.”

  “Okay, I’ll stop.”

  “I’m just kidding. Wash away. Someone’s got to do the dishes, and God knows Mr. Wong isn’t pulling his weight.” I glared accusingly at him before heading to the bathroom.

  “I’ll just wash these while Amber finishes getting ready.”

  Amber, who was doing her hair at my kitchen table because Cook refused to leave her alone after our most recent adventures, protested. “I could’ve gotten ready in my own bathroom, Mom.”

  “We have to get a move on,” she said, ignoring her offspring, “or you’ll be late for school again.” She quirked a quizzical brow. “It’s weird how much that annoys them.”

  I shook my head, befuddled as well as I entered my bathroom and closed the door. Then and only then did I let the tremors wash through me, did I acknowledge the blurred vision and rapid heartbeat that hit me every time I thought of those men in my room, of that gun to my head. I looked in the mirror. I was better than this. I could overcome it. Fear would not take hold of me again. Not ever.

  I took out my toothbrush and squeezed a line of toothpaste over the bristles. But I was shaking, and the tube caught on the bristles as it glided past. When they bounced back, they flung a speck of toothpaste in my eye. Mint-flavored toothpaste with fluoride and tooth-whitening grit and shit.

  I screamed and covered my eye with both hands, falling back and knocking my Little Mermaid figurine off the shelf. “My eye!” I cried, trying to focus past the pain. “My left eye! It burns!”

  Before I could regroup, the door to my bathroom was ripped open and Reyes was standing on the ot
her side. He stood there panting, his alarm causing adrenaline to rush through him in hot waves.

  “Holy mother of God,” Cookie said, her hands encased in plastic yellow gloves.

  That was the exact moment I realized Reyes was as naked as the naked dead man sitting in my Jeep. And he was wet. Very, very wet.

  Reyes turned to her as she gaped at him.

  “Oops,” I said, realizing what I’d done. I’d practically summoned him with my screams of agony.

  He just stood there like an anointed god, not even trying to cover his junk, and said, “I was in the shower.”

  “How is George?” I asked, but before he could answer, we all turned slowly to the fairy princess standing behind her mother.

  Amber stood with jaw dropped and eyes like saucers. Huge, happy saucers. Cookie dived toward her and attempted to cover said eyes with those big yellow gloves, but Amber was quick. She stepped to the side and easily thwarted her mother’s plans, receiving a full frontal of the son of Satan for a solid twenty seconds.

  That was dangerous on any level.

  I bolted into action the minute I could tear away from his perfect physique: wide shoulders, steel buttocks, and that ever-popular dip in the hip. But I had a job to do. I rushed in front of him and couldn’t miss the playful wink Reyes gave Amber as Cookie ushered her out. She blushed and giggled under a cupped hand.

  “Holy crap, Reyes,” I said in my best scolding tone. “You can’t just expose yourself to twelve-year-old girls.”

  Cookie hurried back in to grab her things. “That’s right,” she said, fumbling with her list of things to do for the day while trying to avoid Reyes’s sleek, naked body sparkling in front of her.

  I rolled my eyes, retrieved a towel, and wrapped it around his waist. He smirked as he watched me from underneath his lashes, not bothering to help in the least.

  A hopeless sigh slid through Cookie’s lips as she finally looked at him. “You’ve set the bar too high now. No one will live up to—” She gestured to all of him. “—all of that. You’ve ruined my daughter.”

  “Sorry,” he said, but he wasn’t. I could tell.