Blue Twilight (5 page)

You will tell them to come here. Immediately.

Jason Beck's eyes widened as he stared at the vampire.

Do it! Need I remind you what will happen to your sister if you disobey?

Beck closed his eyes slowly, nodded to tell the vampire he understood, and turned his attention to the woman on the telephone.

 

By the time Lou joined them in the office, Stormy was hitting the speaker button and setting the receiver down. He found himself a chair and waited, listening to the conversation.

“Jay? I put you on speakerphone, hon, so we can all get the full scoop. Now, just be calm. We're here for you. Tell us what the hell is going on.”

She listened. So did Lou. He came up out of his chair when Jason spoke, because he could have sworn there was a thickness to the other man's voice. As if his throat were tight, the way it would be if he'd been crying.

“I don't know exactly, Storm. But damn, it's good to hear your voice.”

“Yours, too.” She sent Max a searching look. “Are you okay, Jason? You sound—”

“Fine. I'm…” He sniffed. “Is Max with you?”

“I'm here, Jay,” Maxie called. “And so is Lou. You remember Lou Malone?”

“Your cop?”

Lou shot Max a look. Since when had he been considered
her
cop?

“Jason, what's happened to Delia?” Maxie asked quickly.

“I don't know. That's just it. She was on a trip with
her best friend, Janie. Headed up the coast to celebrate spring break. Senior year, you know? Then I got this call from her. She sounded terrified, Storm. Said she was in trouble. We got cut off after that. And to be honest, the entire call was broken, full of static, I could barely hear her most of the time. But I'm sure she said the name of a town—Endover, New Hampshire.”

“And that's where you are now?” Stormy asked.

“Yeah. It's like a freakin' ghost town here.”

“You've tried to call her back?” Max asked.

“That was the first thing I did. First through hundredth. No luck. It's freaking weird, Max.” He sighed, a broken sound. “But I believe she's here—I think they both are.”

“When did you get that phone call, Jay?”

“Earlier today,” he told her.

“And you haven't heard from her since?”

There was the slightest delay before he said, “No. Not a word.”

Stormy looked up at Max. Lou saw that they'd both heard the hesitation. Jason had started to say something else, then thought better of it.

“I need you guys to come down here. Immediately.”

Stormy opened her mouth, but Lou spoke first.

“Have you called the police?”

“Hell, Lou, you know as well as I do they wouldn't take this seriously. Not when she was out on a road trip with a friend. They'd think I was being overprotective, melodramatic, alarmist.”

“Are you sure you aren't?” Lou asked.

Max sent him a furious scowl and mouthed “Knock it off.”

“It's all right, Jason,” Stormy said. “Look, this is what we do for a living now. Right, Max?”

“Right,” Max said. “Jason, you're in Endover now, correct?”

“Yeah. The motel where I'm staying is at the north edge of town on 1-A, on the right. The North Star Motor Lodge. You can't miss it.”

“All right.”

Stormy had turned to the computer and was typing rapidly as Jason spoke. Lou looked at the monitor over her shoulder to see she had punched the information into an online map-making program. She hit Enter. About three seconds later the driving directions appeared, and she hit the print button. “Jay, it looks like it's about four and a half hours from here. Allowing time for us to pack a bag or two, we can be there by 5:00 a.m.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Lou said. “Jason, these two have already driven close to eight hours today. And not without incident,” he said with a sharp look at Stormy and Max when he sensed they were about to object.

Max sighed. “He's right. We shouldn't be driving without a few hours' sleep.”

She didn't surprise him. He knew her concern for Stormy would be the one thing that would outweigh her rush to help out an old friend.

“How about we get a decent night's sleep and leave first thing in the morning? We could still make it by noon.”

Lou hadn't realized he'd said “we” until he felt Max's
eyes on him, and by then it was too late. Then Jason voiced the question he was already asking himself.

“What do you mean, ‘we'? Look, Lou, I don't want the police involved in this.”

“I'm not the police. Not anymore. Retired a few months ago, kid. Any other reason you don't want me in on this thing?”

The suspicion and the hint of inexplicable animosity in his tone were not entirely unintended. He couldn't seem to keep them out, and he didn't particularly want to. This guy on the phone was sending up so many red flags, Lou could hear them flapping in the breeze.

“Of course not,” Jason said. “The more help I have on this thing, the better. Noon tomorrow will be fine. Thank you, guys.”

“You're welcome, Jason,” Maxie said.

“We'll see you tomorrow,” Stormy added.

Jason hung up without a goodbye. Stormy reached to hit the disconnect button, but Lou held up a hand. Sure enough, the second click came, just as it had before. They both heard it, and he saw their eyes widen. Then he nodded, and Stormy hung up.

Stormy looked at Max, then at Lou. “Something is wrong with him.”

“His sister's missing,” Max said. “It's like he said, it's amazing he can form a coherent sentence. You know how he adores her.” She snatched the pages off the printer and took a look at the driving directions.

“Seemed like more than that,” Lou said.

“Hell, Lou, you barely know him.”

“That makes me more objective. Besides, I'm a cop, remember?”

“Ex-cop,” she corrected.

“Once a cop, always a cop. And I'll tell you, kid, after twenty years, you get to know when something's off, and something about your friend Jason is definitely off. Way off. And then there are the monitored phone calls.”

“You can't be sure that's what that extra click was,” Max said.

He nodded, conceding that. “Can't be sure it wasn't, either.”

She shrugged. “I can be sure of one thing, though.”

“Yeah? What's that, Nancy Drew?”

She met his eyes and smiled the most triumphant, smug little smile he'd ever seen her wear. “You're planning to come with us.”

He couldn't even argue with her. Instead, he sighed and lowered his head.

“I need more pizza,” Maxie said. She walked out of the office, a little bounce to her step on her way to the kitchen, where they'd left the extra slices in a box on the island.

Lou watched her go and tried to quell the little voice that told him it was a mistake to give in to her yet again. But there was an even bigger feeling, one that was far more important. It sat like a brick in the pit of his stomach, and it told him that something very bad was waiting for Mad Maxie Stuart in Endover.

L
ou didn't follow Max to the kitchen right away. He didn't like the way Stormy looked: pale, shaky, shielding her eyes with a hand, as if the light of the computer monitor was too bright to bear.

Except for the kitchen, every other room in the place was cluttered with still-packed boxes and crates. Not this one, though. It was huge, fireplace on the far wall, French doors with the small patio just beyond, overlooking the rolling lawn all the way to the cliffs and the sea far below. It held two desks, though they'd all been gathered around one. The second one faced it from the opposite side of the fireplace. Its surface was still empty. No computer, no phone.

On the wall was a large oil painting of Max's twin sister, Morgan, and her beloved Dante. She wore a scrap of gossamer with thin straps, and sat in a fur-covered chair with her legs folded beneath her. He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. Lou got lost while staring at the portrait for just a moment. Morgan's facial structure, her deep-set green eyes, coppery-red hair and her
smile—so much like Maxie's. And yet she was pale, had been even before the change. Skin like porcelain. Hair straight and sleek. A body so waif-thin he wondered if she actually cast a shadow. Not that she would be spending any time in the sun from now on. She was frail. A hothouse orchid. Max was a wild rose. Tough, thorny, strong.

“Hard to believe they're twins, isn't it? I can't think of two women more different,” Stormy said, looking over his shoulder.

“I was thinking the same.” He dragged his gaze from the portrait to Stormy. “You all right?”

“I'll be fine. I just…I hate waiting.”

“You're exhausted. Why don't you get some sleep? Give yourself a break.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I will.” She hit the keys that would shut down the computer, then slid out of her chair as the machine whirred and clicked and finally went dark. “So I take it you're staying over?”

“Max isn't giving me much choice.” He drew a breath, sighed deep and long. “My bag still in your car?”

“Nope. I brought it in.” She reached under the desk and hauled out the black satchel. “Are you mad?”

“Hell, what's to be mad about? Even smuggling my bag couldn't force me to stick around with you two if I didn't want to.” He shook his head. “Max thinks she's playing me, but I'm only here because I want to be.”

“She'd sure love to hear that.”

“No way. I'm not giving her any more ammo to fire at my head.”

“I've got news for you, Lou. It's not your head she's firing at.” She studied him, tilted her head to one side. “How do you feel about her, anyway?”

“How do I…
feel
about her?” He shrugged, averting his eyes. “I like her. I've always liked her.”

“As a friend?”

He shrugged. “More like a guardian.” Stormy's eyebrows shot up so high he thought he must have shocked her, so he tried to explain. “I always feel as if she needs looking after, you know? She tends to just charge headlong, straight into trouble, without thinking first.”

“So you see yourself as her…protector.”

“That's one way to put it. Sure.”

“Like a big brother,” Stormy said.

“More like an uncle. I'm too old to be her brother.”

Stormy put a hand on his shoulder. “Lou, she doesn't want you to be her uncle. You do realize that, don't you?”

He frowned at her. “Oh, come on. You're not telling me you take all her teasing and flirting seriously, are you?”

“Don't you?”

“Not on your life. She's half my age.”

“Twenty-six is not half of forty-four.”

“Close enough.”

“That's bullshit. What's the real issue here, Lou?”

He met her eyes, then had to avert his because she was probing a little too deeply. “This is getting kind of personal, Stormy. If you don't mind…”

“Nope. Don't mind a bit. I'm going up to bed, but I'm setting my alarm. I want us to get an early start.” She picked up his bag and swung it into his chest. “And just
in case you didn't notice, Lou, there's room in this office for another desk. Hell, that spot over there almost looks bare without one. Don't you think?”

He looked where she was looking, at a large, vacant section of the room. “You'll find something to put there.”

“Or some
one
. 'Night, Lou.”

“Good night.”

She left. Lou didn't waste a hell of a lot of time wondering where she got her crazy ideas. Instead, he wandered through the vast house, crossing the dramatic formal dining room, heading all the way to the kitchen in the rear of the mansion. Maxie was sitting on a stool at the pink marble island, scarfing down a slice of cold pizza. For a second he marveled that anyone could look as good as she did while chewing. And then he stared a little longer, mentally contrasting her with her wisp of a sister. Where Morgan was whisper-thin, Max was curvy. He didn't often allow himself to think about her breasts, but they were nice ones. Full, rounded, bouncy. Her waist was little, and the curve of her hips just right. She had a round backside that filled out a pair of jeans in the nicest possible way. Her skin was pink, and her hair thick and riotously curly.

Her attitude matched her looks. She was feisty, impulsive, fun-loving, restless.

Stormy was right. Two women couldn't be more different.

She turned and caught him looking, swallowed her latest mouthful and sent him a smile.

“I'm going to get some sleep,” he said. “I'll check the locks before I go up, make sure the place is all buttoned up. Thought I'd say good night.”

She eyed the bag in his hand. “So you meant what you said to Jason on the phone? You're sticking with us for this one?”

“Looks like.”

“I'm so glad.” She hooked her foot around the stool next to her own and pulled it out. “Sit. You want a piece?”

“No thanks, I've had enough pizza.”

“Who said I was talking about pizza?” She sent him her trademark smile, full of mischief and danger.

He sighed, nodded. “Fine. I'll sit. I need to talk to you, anyway.”

“'Bout what?” she asked.

He sighed as he lowered himself onto the stool. “The truth is, kid, I want to go with you to Endover. I like working with you, and I'm scared shitless to think what kind of trouble you might get yourself into without me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your faith in me is overwhelming.”

He lowered his head, searching for the right words. “The thing is, while I like working with you and I want to watch out for you, I don't like some of the things you do.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “You don't?”

“No. Now, don't go getting all hurt and wounded on me, hon, but—”

“Ooooh,” she said, drawing the sound out into a sexy purr. “I just love when you call me ‘hon.'” As she said it, she leaned closer, so her breath warmed his neck.

Lou shot to his feet, slammed his palms on the marble. “Goddammit, Max, that's exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about.”

She jumped and stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Look, this isn't easy for me. It's goddamn embarrassing, as a matter of fact, but I don't know how to do this except to just come right out with it. I'm not a gelding, Maxie. I'm not a monk. When you play those games with me, I react, okay? My body—reacts. I'm a healthy, red-blooded man. I'm not too old to feel…” He let his words trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Lou?”

“I need you to stop, Max.”

She blinked at him.

He was sure he'd just fallen off whatever pedestal she'd placed him on. God, to confess to having sexual thoughts about her—sexual desire for her—it was mortifying. He wouldn't blame her if she threw him out of here once she had time to digest his words, to understand what they implied. “I'm going to bed,” he told her. “I just…had to get that said.” He turned and walked away. “If you still want me to come with you in the morning, I will.”

“Lou?”

He stopped, but he didn't turn to face her.

“You've got it all wrong, you know.”

“No, I don't. Good night, Max.”

 

Maxie paced her bedroom most of the night. Hell, she'd been nuts about Lou since her first year of college,
when she'd taken a self-defense class he'd taught. But she'd kept her flirting minimal back then. Since he'd come back into her life, she'd turned it up several notches.

But she hadn't realized until now how her efforts were being received.

There was a tap on her door. She hurried to yank it open, half expecting to find Lou there, ready to admit defeat and sweep her into his arms for a passionate kiss.

Instead Stormy was standing on the other side, framed by an elaborately tooled, walnut-stained casing.

She took one long look at Max's face and said, “Lou talked to you, didn't he?”

“How did you know?”

“Told me he was going to. Then I heard you pacing. Slamming doors or drawers or whatever. Figured I'd better come in before you broke something.” She smiled, a teasing sort of almost-grin. “So what did he say?”

Max pursed her lips. “He
claims
to think I've just been teasing him, that I see him as harmless. A
gelding.
He actually used that word.”

Stormy sighed, crossing the room and hopping onto the foot of the giant four-poster bed, where she folded her legs underneath her and sank into the softness of high-piled mattresses and bedding. “So, did you set him straight?”

“I was just so stunned. I mean, he caught me off guard. I didn't know what to say. Hell, I still don't.” Max padded across the thick carpet to stand at the French doors, where she stared outside at the stars, twinkling from a velvet canopy of midnight-blue sky.

“Well, clearly you have to tell him you've never thought of him as a gelding. I mean, if he really believes that, it can't be good for his ego.”

Max gnawed her lip for several seconds. “I know what I ought to do. I ought to put on that black teddy and march right into his bedroom and show him just how serious I am.”

She strode away from the gorgeous view, yanked open the top drawer of the dresser that took up fully half of one wall and pulled out the teddy. A crescent-shaped mirror framed in scrolled wood was mounted to the dresser, and she held the teddy to her chest and stared at her reflection.

“You sure that won't send him running back to White Plains at the speed of sound, Max?”

Max frowned and licked her lips. “I can't have him thinking what he's thinking.”

Stormy slid off the bed, came behind her and put a firm hand on her shoulder. “I have my doubts he really believes any of that crap, anyway. Deep down, I mean.”

“Then why would he…?”

“Maybe it's just easier that way,” Stormy said. “Telling you to stop teasing him is way easier than telling you to stop wanting him, don't you think?”

Max turned slowly. “You think he knows I'm serious, and just…isn't interested?”

“I know it's a possibility you've never considered, hon, but don't you think you have to?”

“But…but how could he not want me?” She blinked away the stupid, ridiculous moisture that had gathered in her eyes.

Stormy squeezed her shoulder. “Might not be about you. Might be about him.”

“Now you sound like a goddamn man.” Maxie crammed the teddy back into the drawer, then slammed it closed.

“Look, Max, you know the age difference bugs him.”

“That's an excuse, not a reason. It's only eighteen years.”

Stormy shrugged. “He's been married before. Maybe he was burned so bad he's sworn off women forever.”

Max paced the bedroom. “Okay, that could be a possibility. At least that's within the realm of reason.”

Stormy nodded. “You know anything about the wife? What went wrong?”

Max shook her head. “He never talks about it. If I ask, he changes the subject.”

“See? Doesn't that sort of prove it was bad?”

“Maybe it just proves he doesn't want to talk about it. The question is, what am I supposed to do next?” Max stopped pacing, spun to face Stormy. “How can I overcome whatever it is that's keeping him from even thinking about me as a—a love interest?”

Stormy blinked slowly. “Because giving up is not an option, right, Max?”

“Of course it's not an option. Lou is mine.” Max paced across the room in one direction, then turned and started back again. “He's meant for me. I'm certainly not going to let a little thing like his unwillingness to cooperate get in the way of that.” She stood still and smiled then. “Now that I think about it, he basically ad
mitted to wanting me, too. He said I had to stop because he was a normal red-blooded man, and that his body reacts to my flirting.”

Stormy sighed. “I suppose he might really believe you aren't serious about him, and that would make him feel guilty for having feelings for you.”

“Well, I'll get that out of the way first and proceed from there.”

“Have you decided
how
you're going to get it out of the way?”

Max eyed the dresser drawer. “I suppose the teddy's out of the question?”

“I think if you show up in his bedroom wearing that teddy, he'll be gone when we get up in the morning. The man's gun-shy.”

Max sighed. “I suppose I could just tell him.”

“That might be best.”

 

The vampire's mind was his most powerful tool. He knew that others of his kind shared many of the same abilities—to control the mind of another, to communicate without speaking, to hear private thoughts, to invade dreams, to enslave. But none, to his knowledge, had honed those skills to the degree he had.

The woman, for example.