Vampire Babylon - Midnight Reign Part 15

"I mean, I know you don't reveal sources"-especially when it came to Frank, the man whom an anonymous client had hired Matt to find-"but I got the feeling you were kinda willing to share."

"I am. Kinda." He turned very serious. "I'm going out on a limb here, but...I think Jessica might not have been murdered by a vampire."

She leaned back at his honesty because she wasn't used to it. "And what does Jessica have to do with Frank? Why would you even look into her death if it didn't have anything to do with my dad's case?"

"I thought, based on the similarities to Klara Monaghan's murder, there might be a connection."

"And how do you know Jessica wasn't killed by a vamp?"

Matt drilled a gaze at her. "Take the information for what it's worth. Sometimes that's the only choice we have." If she knew for sure whether or not he was a bad guy, the decision would be easier. Of course, she had no idea. She was just willing to take a chance that he was on their side.

"There are some details I find striking about both Klara's and Jessica's murders though," he said, "besides the whole vampire angle."

This was a start. "Shoot."

"First, it's like the murderer wants notoriety, whether it's the public kind or even a special, secret kind that gets them off in private.

I was reading up on other cases, like the Black Dahlia murder. That killer dumped the body in an obvious place, like he was making an announcement. And he left it in a grotesque, sensational state, just like our genius."

"Our killer wants to be famous?"

"That's why everyone comes to L.A., isn't it?" He tossed another popcorn kernel, this time at the table. "Our killer isn't exactly writing taunting letters to the police, but the signature is flashy enough."

"Like they're begging to be noticed, even if it's in a demented, pa.s.sive-aggressive way."

"Exactly."

"And this has nothing to do with Frank."

"I...d.a.m.n it, I don't know." He dumped the rest of his popcorn on a napkin that rested on the table.

Why wouldn't he tell her about the reason all this mattered in an investigation of her dad? What was his agenda? Was it as crazy as her own?

The remote felt alien in Dawn's hand. She tried to think up ways to get more information out of him, first of all because she'd promised Breisi. Second of all, because she knew she needed to do everything possible to make up for Kiko's psychic blindness with Milton Crockett and the Tomlinsons- Crack.

Just like that, her vision wavered, like something had disturbed the solidity of her world. Right on its tail, her peripheral vision caught a flash of silver?...red?...outside the window- She whipped her gaze there, catching the orange sway of a bird-of-paradise. Not silver at all. Not even red.

Had the movement come from the Friend who'd been sent to watch her?

Uneasy, Dawn put her popcorn and water down on a napkin. Her stomach felt light, queasy. Her body felt heavy and exposed- watched.

It was a Friend, she told herself. That was all.

"What's wrong?" Matt asked. "You look the way you sounded on the phone earlier."

"And how did I sound?" She tried to smile as she faced him, her back now to the window.

She knew she wasn't wearing her emotions freely. Because of training and life experience, he'd never know anything she didn't want him to.

"Scared," he said. "You're scared of something." "Bulls.h.i.+t."

She started to laugh it off-a nerve-laced compulsion-but he quieted her with a touch to her cheek. Immediately, she stopped with the bravado, jolted by the caress of his fingertips.

Real, she thought, thinking how much different this was than being with The Voice. She could feel, see how Matt's skin was rough, tangible, how it brushed against her own to cause friction.

The need for stimulated comfort took her over, jarring her heart to an erratic pump, sharpening the air in her lungs.

She wanted him to make her forget, like all the other men had. Forget the homeless woman, forget Frank and Eva, just for a little while....

His fingers traveled her face, sweet deliberation. When he got to her right lobe, where her long blood-moon earring used to hang with ruby-and-silver negligence, he stroked, as if mimicking the phantom fall and s.h.i.+mmer of it.

"I wish you'd tell me everything," he said.

"Same here." Was this one of their cat-and-mouse standoffs? Is that why he'd invited her over? She couldn't exactly be angry, because she was here for ulterior purposes, too.

"I'm not just talking about our work." He slipped his hands down her jacketed arms, coming too close to her shoulder-holstered gun while taking her hands in his.

She hadn't doffed her jacket because weapons were still in her pockets, plus, she didn't want to showcase the gun, even though he already knew it was there. In back of her, the window seemed to loom with whatever was watching her-Friend or foe. A chill flew down her spine and, not for the first time, she was glad she'd kept her a.r.s.enal handy.

But the reminder didn't chase away any of the heat churning through her. Steam bathed her, p.r.i.c.kling her skin, making it painfully aware of what might happen between her and Matt, now that he'd gotten over some of the bashfulness.

"Right now," she said, "I'm all about work. There's not much left of me."

As if to prove her wrong, he leaned forward, molding his lips to hers in lingering question. Wet, warm. She couldn't think anymore, not with the excitement of him mingling with the s.h.i.+vers of being watched from outside the window.

Impulsively, she parted her lips, demanding more while pressing forward. She wanted to wipe away the violence she'd faced earlier with violence of another type: something she'd dealt with so many times before, something she could control. Skin to skin, she came out the winner every time, whether it was over a partner or Eva or even herself.

As she entered his mouth with her tongue, engaging his with ravenous insistence, he fisted her hair, moaning. She levered him backward, intending to straddle him, to grind into him and make him her G.o.dd.a.m.ned slave.

"Wait," he mumbled.

"No." She sucked at his lower lip, sliding a hand down his chest as she kept pus.h.i.+ng him back.

With just as much force, he grabbed her wrist, the one that had never been injured. He grabbed it hard.

Good. Her body remembered how, one night, he'd lost a fraction of control, at the hospital, when she'd been devastated by Kiko's back injury and had been yearning for someone to take her away from it. Matt had responded to her rough kisses, her prodding seduction.

In the thrall of memory, she groaned, the sound vibrating in her chest, in a place that echoed with emptiness.Jonah, she thought. Be like Jonah again. Use me as much as I use you. You were almost there that one night....

"Hey," he said again, voice garbled, familiar in its l.u.s.t.

So familiar...

The shock of longing stimulated her, and she nipped at his neck. Her heart pounded like a broken, out-of-control machine stamping steel into jagged shapes. Condensation from its urgent thudding trickled down and down, lubricating her.

He seemed to sense that she was about to attack, as she'd done that time at the hospital. Maybe that's why he slowed things down now, loosening his hold on her wrist. He slipped his hand behind her head, cradling it, deepening their kisses.

At first, Dawn didn't know exactly what to do. Usually, she'd be down a guy's pants by now, guiding him out, shucking off her clothes to get him inside of her as soon as possible. After that, she'd be cleansed of him.

But Matt wasn't letting her do that. He was slow driving, taking his time with each suck, each nip, running his other hand over her neck.

Dawn tried to calm her breathing, but it was impossible. Her heartbeat skittered, her body becoming one long throb after another, one long melt.

Making out, she thought. Is this what it was?

When she tried to take things a step further, stroking her hand up his thigh, he blocked her, weaving his fingers through hers and ending the kiss with an easy sip of her lips.

His breath bathed her ear. "I've got something for you."

l.u.s.t nudged at her. "I'll bet you do."

"Dawn." He laughed, the vibrations of it tapping over her skin. "Humor me. You like games. You like pus.h.i.+ng things, don't you?"

She did a half wince, half purr, and he laughed again.

"Come here." He pulled her up to a stand. "I've got something that'll...You'll see."

G.o.d help her, but her gaze traveled right to his zipper, where she hoped to find an erection waiting. But his untucked s.h.i.+rt covered the details, d.a.m.n it.

He held up a finger, grinning, then went to his bedroom.

Without her.

"Am I supposed to follow you?" she asked, mentally crossing her fingers while fidgeting in pained frustration.

"No, stay out there." He was clearly amused.

Great. She waited, body belting out SOS codes in the most uncomfortable places.

What was he do-?

One of those s.h.i.+vers attacked her again, and she reached for her revolver, spinning toward the window, hoping-and not hoping-to discover something there.

Shoot, shoot! her dark half said, loving the power.But...there was nothing. Nothing but the wind and the bird-of-paradise.

"Okay," Matt said.

Adrenaline screeching to a halt, she shoved her weapon back into the holster before he could see it, then turned around to find him walking out of the bedroom.

You almost lost it again, she thought. Get it together, Dawn.

He was clueless to her drama. And it was pretty cute how he was just standing there with a grin, holding some folded material.

"Um," she said optimistically, "lingerie?"

"Not quite." He was blus.h.i.+ng. Blus.h.i.+ng.

Endeared by his shyness, stumped by it, she shook her head. "Come on, what is it?"

"I thought...It's..."

"Good G.o.d." Dawn strode forward, all her aggression surfacing. "It doesn't look like a French maid's outfit."

He made as if to keep the material away from her, but then he held up a hand. "Let me explain first-"

There was no stopping her. She grabbed at the material. It belled out, filmy and flowery, into a dress.

It took a moment for her mind to wrap around what she was seeing.

"I found it in the window of a vintage store," he said, blus.h.i.+ng even more furiously now. "Can you believe it?"

She was trying not to.

Dawn reached out, fingering the sheer material, not accepting what she touched.

It was a copy of the dress Eva Claremont had worn in her most famous movie, Daydreamer.

She remembered how his gaze had gone all goofy that day at lunch when she'd said Eva's name. Remembered how most men got that way with just a mention.

"You're not expecting me to put this on," she said, voice quavering, in what she told herself was only anger.

"Oh." He awkwardly looked at it. "I just-"

"Tell me this isn't the only way you'll find me attractive."

"Dawn, wait, wait. I didn't mean-"

"Is this a joke?"

He just shook his head, the dress hanging from one hand like the most loaded weapon she'd ever encountered. If it wasn't for the gleam of something in his gaze-disappointment?-she would've felt sorry for him.

Would've.

Ire surged, unreasonable, all consuming. She'd fought so hard against being her mom's daughter; it was the only way she could justify never living up to Eva's beauty. But now, even if she wasn't here, Eva was winning again. She'd taken over Jac and now, more hurtfully, Matt.

"Maybe that explains everything," she said, backing away. "You're one of those guys who gets off on my relation to Eva, right?

Were you closing your eyes when you were kissing me? Did it shut out my less-attractive face?"

"No, I-"

Pressure built in her temples. "Was putting me in a dress like hers going to make it easier to get it up, Matt?"

"Dawn-"

"Why did you bring this thing out just when we were getting somewhere?"

He heaved out a pent-up breath, gaze to the ground, shaking his head. He obviously had no other explanation.