After Dark (26 page)

She seized on the only face-saving way out of what had become an extremely hazardous quagmire. “Yes.
Yes.
It was just sex.”

“Not a deliberate seduction.”

“No.” She wondered if there was a difference, but decided that this was not the time to go into the issue. “It just happened.”

He lowered his mouth until it was only an inch above hers. “It was pretty good sex, though, wasn't it?”

Her mouth went dry. “That is beside the point.”

“I don't think this argument has a point. Not one that's worth pursuing, at any rate. Let's get back to the sex.”

“Just like a man, to try to use lust to avoid having to discuss a relationship—I mean, to avoid having to talk about a business association.”

“Uh-uh.” He did not sound particularly interested. His attention seemed to be focused entirely on her mouth. “To be perfectly honest, I don't want to talk about anything right now.”

The telltale flickers had disappeared, but she could still feel energy crackling in the air. She was afraid that some of it was emanating from her. She swallowed.

“Emmett?” He was so close she could feel the heat in him. She tried to ignore it. “Sex is not enough.”

“You may not trust me completely, but we made a damn good team down there in the catacombs. That counts for something.”

He kissed her before she could summon a response. For a moment she hesitated, trying in vain to marshal further arguments. But it was too late. Much too late.

“You're right,” she said against his mouth. “That counts for something.”

He scooped her up and carried her indoors. She closed her eyes and did not open them until he lowered her onto the bed.

He jerked at the buttons of his shirt, flinging the garment aside. Then his hands went to his belt buckle. She watched him undress, aware of the shimmering excitement coiling deep inside her.

He was big, sleek and fully aroused. The heat in his eyes was hotter than melted amber. When he came down onto the bed and gathered her into his arms, she knew that she was very likely stepping into an illusion trap, possibly the most dangerous one she had ever encountered.

But this was no alien nightmare. This was a dream of another kind. She had made her decision. She would revel in it as long as possible.

And then his hands were on her and she stopped thinking about anything except the sensations that caressed her entire body. Sensual energy swirled through her as his fingers moved on her. She felt herself become hot and damp. She turned her head into his chest and kissed him, inhaling the scent of him.

And then he was on top of her, his weight crushing her into the depths of the bed. He reached down to draw her knees up alongside his thighs, making a place for himself between her legs.

He forged into her slowly, giving her time to adjust to him but allowing no room for retreat. Not that she wanted to pull back, she thought. She had never craved anything in her life the way she craved Emmett tonight.

She sank her nails into the muscles of his back and tightened her knees around him. He made a husky, unintelligible sound and pushed himself deeper inside, filling her completely.

He kissed her again, his mouth at once demanding and desperate. She understood the strange combination because she was experiencing the same driving need. She had to have him, had to find the release that only he could provide. She clutched at him, drawing him closer.

He moved deliberately within her, withdrawing until he was almost free and then sliding heavily back inside. The pressure became more than she could bear. She knew that his control was close to shattering. His back was slick with perspiration.

“Yes,” she whispered, clenching him tightly. “Yes,
now
.” She lifted herself against him.

“Lydia.”

He plunged back into her one more time. Her climax swept through her with shattering intensity. She was vaguely aware of the great, wracking shudders rippling through Emmett. She parted her lips on a small scream, felt his mouth cover hers, and then spun away into a darkness made brilliant with sparkling dreamstone.

 

He opened his eyes a long time later and looked up at the ceiling. Lydia was curled snugly against him. She felt very good. He was intensely aware of her warmth and softness. She did not speak, but he knew she was awake.

“You were right,” he said. “I didn't tell you everything.”

“No kidding.” But there was no anger left in her voice, only a wry resignation.

“There were reasons,” he said slowly. “The Guilds are changing, but it's going to take time. Old habits die hard.”

“I know.” She groaned and stretched languidly. “I can't blame you for keeping secrets. You had to protect Quinn, and you were right when you said that I had my own agenda in this thing. We used each other.”

He felt his jaw tighten. “It was a partnership. Maybe we didn't tell each other everything right up front, but that doesn't mean we weren't partners.”

“I vote we don't argue about it anymore, Emmett. I don't think either of us can win. Besides, it's over.”

“Not quite,” he said.

She went very still. After a moment she raised her head and looked down at him. “What's that supposed to mean?”

He hesitated. This was Guild business, after all. Very serious Guild business. But he knew he had already made the decision. She had a right to be in on the finish.

“There's one other loose end to tie up,” he said.

T
HIS IS GUILD
business.” Tamara Wyatt turned away from the study window. The movement of her head caused her amber earrings to catch the morning sun. They glowed a dark yellow gold. “Whatever it is you have to say to us, Emmett, it should be kept within the Guild. There is no reason to involve Miss Smith.”

During the drive to Mercer Wyatt's mansion in the hills, Lydia had promised herself that she would keep her mouth shut and allow Emmett to handle this. It was his show, after all. But listening to Tamara talk about her as if she weren't in the room was too much. She consigned her vow of silence to the garbage.

“I disagree, Mrs. Wyatt,” she said briskly. “In the course of this mess, a friend of mine was murdered, as was a business acquaintance named Bartholomew Greeley. A young boy was ruthlessly terrorized by a rogue ghost-hunter. On top of everything else, my apartment was scorched.”

Tamata whirled to face her. “The Cadence Guild is not responsible for any of those things.”

Emmett looked at her. “Wrong, Tamara. The Cadence Guild was involved.”

“Can you prove it?” Mercer Wyatt demanded coldly.

Emmett held up the folder he had brought with him. “I may not have evidence that will stand up in a court of law, but I think I've got enough to convince you. And when it comes to Guild matters, that's all it takes, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Mercer said steadily. “Convincing me is all that is required.”

Tamara looked at Emmett. “If you actually have proof that someone in the Cadence Guild was responsible for what was going on at the youth shelter, you should discuss it privately with Mercer. He will deal with it. I still say Miss Smith has no business here.”

“Too bad,” Lydia said. “Miss Smith
is
here, and she's not leaving until this is over.”

A soft, discreet knock on the door interrupted Tamara before she could argue further.

“Come in,” Mercer ordered.

The door opened. Lydia turned to see an earnest-looking man walk into the study.

“Miss Smith,” Mercer said quietly, “allow me to introduce Denver Galbraith-Thorndyke. Denver is the administrator of the Guild Foundation. Denver, this is Lydia Smith.”

Denver inclined his head in a polite nod. “Miss Smith.” He turned back to Mercer with a quizzical expression. “I got a message that you wanted to see me, sir.”

“Emmett, here, has some questions for you concerning our Foundation grants.” Mercer looked at Emmett.

Denver followed his glance. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and smiled slightly. “Yes, Mr. London?”

Emmett did not move from his position near the bookcase. “You told me you ran a thorough background check on Helen Vickers before you funded the programs at the Transverse Wave Youth Shelter.”

“That's right,” Denver said. “Why? Is there a problem?”

“Yes.” Emmett tossed the file folder down onto the nearest table. “There is a problem. I had my people in Resonance run a check on her, too. They turned up several interesting facts. Ten years ago Helen Vickers was involved in an underground excavation disaster. No charges were brought, but two people died and a valuable artifact went missing. The surviving members of the team blamed Vickers.”

“Good Lord.” Denver stared at him. “I found no such information on Miss Vickers.”

“She was using a different name at the time,” Emmett said. “You should have found it. My people did within twenty-four hours.”

“I don't understand.”

“There's more,” Emmett continued. “Two years ago the original founder of the Transverse Wave Youth Shelter, Anderson Ames, died in a mysterious fire. Helen Vickers was his sole heir.”

Denver drew himself up. “Are you implying that I failed to do a proper in-depth background investigation on Miss Vickers before I authorized funding for the shelter?”

“No,” Emmett said. “I think you did a very good background investigation.”

His icy voice sent a shiver through Lydia. This was the shadowy, mysterious Emmett London who had once held the Resonance Guild in an iron grip, the man who had single-handedly transformed it. Ryan had told her that this Emmett London had made enemies along the way. She could well believe it.

“I think you discovered everything that my people turned up and more,” Emmett said to Denver. “You had plenty of time to dig deep, and that's just what you did, isn't it?”

“I don't know what you're implying, but I certainly have no intention of listening to these wild accusations,” Denver said tightly.

“Yes,” Mercer said, “you do.”

Tamara looked at him. “I don't understand. What is this all about?”

“All in due time, my dear,” Mercer said. “All in due time.”

Emmett contemplated Denver. “You realized that Vickers, whatever else she was, was no model of selfless altruism. So you did a little more investigating, didn't you?”

Denver clenched his hands into fists. He was trembling visibly now. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You learned that she and the man who calls himself Bob Matthews were old lovers. Somehow you uncovered their hole-in-the wall dreamstone excavation project. My guess is that, acting anonymously, you blackmailed them into cutting you in for a piece of the action. In return, you promised to keep funding the shelter and to keep the Guild off their backs.”

“This is outrageous! How dare you insinuate such things?”

“You took charge of the entire operation—anonymously, of course,” Emmett said. “I'm sure Vickers and Matthews are already trying to tell their lawyers about the mysterious blackmailer, but no one will take them seriously. After all, there's no proof. You kept your own hands very clean.”

“You're insane,” Denver whispered.

Tamara frowned. “Denver, is any of this true?”

“No, no, of course not, Mrs. Wyatt.” Denver swung around to face Mercer. “You can't possibly believe this nonsense, sir.”

“I didn't want to believe it,” Mercer said wearily. “But this morning after Emmett called to tell me that he suspected you were involved in the illegal excavation at the shelter, I had your house searched.”

Denver blanched. “You sent people into my home? But that's illegal. You can't do that.”

“We found the London family heirloom,” Mercer said. “The cabinet of curiosities, I believe it's called. It was hidden in your basement storage closet. You stole it from Chester Brady's shop after he was killed. And later you posed as the new owner in order to set Greeley up.”

Tamara touched Mercer's shoulders. “Are you certain of this?”

“Yes, my dear,” Mercer said gently. “Quite certain.”

Right then and there Denver seemed to crumple. He sank in on himself as if suddenly too exhausted to stand. For a moment there was absolute silence in the study.

“How dare you?” Tamara's patrician face twisted into a mask of anger and disgust. “You've ruined everything.
Everything!
For a year I've been working on the Guild Foundation. It was the first step toward changing the Guild's image here in Cadence. And now this. If word gets out about the Guild's connection to the illegal excavation at the shelter, we'll be back to square one. The media will have a field day.”

“Don't worry, my dear,” Mercer said soothingly. “Word won't get out about any of this. It's a Guild matter. It will be handled in the usual fashion.”

Lydia snorted softly. “Figures.”

Tamara glowered. “What about her? She's not Guild. Who's going to keep her quiet?”

There was a short, brittle silence. Everyone, including Lydia, looked at Emmett.

Emmett shrugged. He said nothing.

Lydia gave Tamara a cool smile. “You want to start changing the Guild's image? Stop trying to police yourselves. Turn Denver over to the authorities. Take the hit in the press.”

“Impossible,” Tamara said instantly. “We can't risk the bad publicity. The media already classify the Cadence Guild as little more than a very powerful mob. Turning Denver over to the police would only feed that negative image.”

Denver removed his glasses and began to polish the lenses with a cloth. “You can't touch me, you know. My family will see to that. I don't care how strong the Guild is, the Galbraith-Thorndykes can and will protect me.”

Mercer studied Emmett, who was standing at the window now, hands in his pockets.

“What do you say, Emmett?”

“Turn Denver over to the cops,” he said quietly. “His family can afford good lawyers. My guess is he won't do any time. There's very little hard evidence against him.”

“Then why go through the motions?” Tamara protested. “And the humiliation?”

“Because,” Emmett said, “in the end the big story won't be Denver's involvement in the dreamstone scheme. It will be the fact that the Cadence Guild went to the mainstream justice system about the situation. Lydia's right. It's a major step toward shaking the mob image.”

Tamara whirled to confront Mercer. “Listen to me! We can't take the chance of destroying what we've been working for all year.”

Mercer looked thoughtfully at Lydia for a long moment. She had the feeling that she was being weighed and judged. Another little shiver went through her. She'd seen that same calculating intelligence in Emmett's gaze from time to time. Perhaps power always revealed itself that way.

Mercer turned his head to smile gently at Tamara. They're right, my dear. If we truly want to begin the task of reshaping the image of the Cadence Guild, it must start here. I will call the police myself.”