Crave (27 page)

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Authors: Karen E. Taylor

BOOK: Crave
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“Missing?” Fred never struck me as the kind of person who would just pick up and leave. “When we were in here last you said he was on vacation.”
“And he was. From the club, that is. But he stayed in town instead of going away. He would call me every night, here, after we closed out to see how we did. But the last time I heard from him was Wednesday night.”
“Maybe,” Mitch said, glancing around, “he changed his mind and went out of town anyway.”
“That's possible, I suppose. But his vacation was over on Sunday, he should have been back by now.”
“Have you contacted the police?”
“No,” Mark said, “that seems so drastic.”
Mitch nodded. “And a waste of everyone's time at this point, unless you have reason to believe that he was kidnapped or a victim of foul play. Do you have reason to believe that?”
“No, I sure don't. I suspect he'll turn up soon.”
“Could be. Keep us informed, though.”
“Will do. Now, do you all want to sit at the bar or at a table?”
“Actually, Marky, we didn't come to party. We came on business. Do you have an office somewhere we can use?”
He laughed. “Very funny. Just tell me if you want a table or do you want to sit in the bar.”
“Seriously, Mark,” and she certainly looked serious, “we need a place relatively quiet so that we can conduct business.”
“You, Vivienne? Sorry. You and business do not mix.”
I smiled. “Not yet anyway. But you should watch how you speak to the new owner, Mark.”
“Vivienne? You're buying the place?”
“Oui,
I am. Down to every rat's whisker and roach's leg.”
“Well, if that's the case, then you can use Max's office.”
“Max's office?” The words gave me a chill. I'd never expected to hear them again.
Mark noticed my reaction. “Weird, isn't it? Max has been dead for over two years and most of the staff here now never knew him, but that room will probably be called Max's office forever.”
I smiled. “A living legacy. Max would have appreciated the gesture.”
“Consider it done, Deirdre.” Vivienne extended her arm and we shook hands. “I'll even have a plaque made up to put on the door. Something ornate and gothic feeling. Max's office will go down in history.”
Chapter 30
T
he deal could not actually be finalized that night, because neither Vivienne nor I had our attorneys present. And sadly enough we discovered that we shared the same attorney, Ron Wilkes, and he was dead.
So we did very little business, but we did party. We stayed late into the night, paying the band extra so that we could dance. Vivienne discussed her plans for remodeling and redecorating eagerly. The new name of the club would be Dangerous Crossings and it would have a definite S&M theme.
“You're going to turn the Ballroom of Romance into an S&M club?” Mark had finished the last of his duties and had joined us around the table.
“No, no, you don't understand.” Vivienne sighed, she'd attempted to explain this repeatedly throughout the night. “It will not be an S&M club, but it will be decorated like one. People love this stuff whether they would ever use it or not. Black leather and chains and studs. And crucifixes.”
“Crucifixes?” I asked her, laughing at the thoughts of a vampire opening a club with crucifixes hung on the walls. “How on earth do these fit in?”
“You'll see,” she said mysteriously. “It has something to do with the name of the club. It has something to do with what we all are, deep inside.”
Right after she made that last statement, Mitch got up from the table. “Nothing personal, Viv,” he said, reaching over and patting the top of her head, “but that about does it for me. I need to get back soon. Anyone else want to go?”
I stood up. “I'm with you, Mitch.”
Vivienne remained at the table with Mark and one of the band members. “I'll stick around for a while, if you don't mind. I want to snoop into things around here that are none of my business.”
“Be my guest, sister. My business is your business.”
“So what do you think of Viv's plans for the club?” Mitch asked me, as we got into the cab.
“I think they're strange, no question about that. I also think that she's right and that after opening, Crossings will probably be one of the more popular night spots around here. She'll get rich.”
“Do you mind?”
“That Vivienne will get rich? No.”
“No, do you mind that she's taking what must be an icon in your life and completely changing it.”
“No,” I told him emphatically. “Life is change and growth. To expect anything to remain static for too long is ridiculous. The Ballroom of Romance has been dead for years. It's time to bury it and move on.”
“I'm starting to feel that way about this whole city. I want this all to be over. We have to find Larry Martin and finish this, once and for all.”
“I agree, Mitch, but how do you propose we go about it? Take out an ad in the personals? ‘Would Lawrence Martin please present himself to Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell Greer so that they can kill him and get on with their lives?' ”
He laughed. “You'd certainly get points for being original. And it could be that the direct approach might be the best one, especially when dealing with Larry. But how do we lure him out?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted as the cab pulled up to the Imperial. “Let's sleep on it.”
 
When I woke the next afternoon, I woke to an empty room. Mitch had been with me when I fell asleep, I knew. But he was gone now. I got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, slipped on my boots and went in search of him. The hallways were completely deserted and had an eerie feel to them. But I could hear a low undercurrent of voices coming from somewhere on this floor. I followed the sound and ended up at the door into Victor's office. I knocked softly and when there was no answer I opened the door and walked in.
Mitch sat at the desk with the phone to his ear. He looked up and smiled at me, beckoning me to come in closer. He looked tired, but seemed happier than when we had gone to sleep last night.
“And they seem to help your anxiety?” he asked the person on the phone. “Uh-huh, well if that's the case, then keep taking them. It's no shame, son, to take help when it's needed.”
“Tell Chris I said hello.”
“Deirdre says hello, Chris. Yeah, she told me she saw you and that the two of you have made peace. I'm proud of you for that. Thank you.”
I watched the expression on his face change as he listened to Chris.
“No, I do not think that's a good idea. And it's not even necessary. I'm close anyway. Some of the leads I've found this morning have paid off. I now have a general idea of where he's hiding. And an idea on how to lure him out.”
“Larry?” I mouthed the word and he nodded. “You've found Larry?”
He nodded again. I felt a flash of relief combined with a rush of fear. He'd found Larry. And had a plan.
“I promise I'll keep you informed. If you'll do the same. Okay then, you have a good evening and I'll talk to you later.”
He hung up the phone.
“How's Chris doing?”
“Better. Much better. Sam's got him on some sort of antidepressant now. Chris says they help immensely.”
“And you've found Larry?”
“Not yet, but I'm close. Very close.” He opened his top desk drawer. “Look what I found outside our door when I came out this afternoon.” He pulled it out, a black rose.
“He hasn't forgotten me. How sweet.”
“More importantly, he hasn't forgotten the game. I keep forgetting that Larry is no more than a child in some respects. I keep expecting him to make sense. Why did he back off when I threw away the roses? They were nothing more than a bit of melodramatic decoration to us. But they were important to him, because they were part of the game.”
“So he quit killing us when we quit paying attention?” I thought about that for a while. And shook my head. “Sorry, I don't quite get it.”
“Neither do I, yet. Except for the gut feeling that I'm right. That black rose outside our door is an invitation to play the game again. And we're going to accept it, but on our terms.”
“But we don't know the game.”
“Oh, but we do. It's king of the mountain. That's why he uses his powers so flagrantly. He wants to be the best. Larry Martin, King of the Vampires.”
“Why don't I like the direction this is taking, Mitch?”
He gave me a sheepish grin, “Because you know me too well. I'm going to step forward and offer Larry the chance to be the best, by beating me. If Victor hadn't stepped down, it would have been him.”
“So how do we issue the invitation to him?”
He picked up the black rose. “We send this back to him. He'll want to know if finding this has frightened you or made you mad or sad or anything else. So he'll be around waiting for our response.”
“Which is?”
“Basically, it's meet me out behind the school after class and we'll see who's the best. Although for Larry it needs to be dressed up just a bit.”
We worked until sundown on our response. It was simple enough to seem totally transparent, melodramatic enough that he couldn't possibly resist.
Eventually the note that we stapled to the rose read: “Enough. Let's settle this the only way it can be settled: Single combat, winner take all. Tonight at midnight in the Ballroom of Romance.”
“And if he doesn't get it today?”
“Then we just keep trying until he does.”
 
I threw the rose into the Dumpster at sunset. I didn't have to feign my apprehension, although it was purely for Mitch and not for me. And I didn't stay around to see if it was picked up. I didn't really want to know.
After that all we needed to do was wait. I called over to the club and told Mark, since Fred was still missing, that we would be closed this evening due to the impending sale and the staff should take the evening off with pay. He could go home or do anything he wanted as long as he was back at the Ballroom by eleven-thirty, waiting for us by the private entrance.
Back in our room once again, Mitch did not turn on the light, but locked the door and reached for me. I made a feeble attempt to push him away.
“Don't you think you should save your strength for the confrontation?”
He laughed. “As if making love to you could do anything but increase my strength. I need the time with you, Deirdre, the unity and the closeness. It may be our last time together.”
“Please, love . . .”
“Face the facts, Mrs. Greer. Larry Martin has more powers than I could learn from Vivienne in a year. There's no bloody way I can hope to match them, or even come close.”
“Then why meet him? We could leave, now. The Cadre is in such a shambles with Victor the way he is, they would never know. Or even care.”
“But we would know. And we would care.”
I sighed. He was right; I knew we couldn't abdicate responsibility, but the temptation to turn and run was great. And the risk of losing Mitch was too real.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “If I don't meet him now, Deirdre, I'll have to do it some other time. How many more deaths do you want on your conscience?”
“None,” I agreed, “but most especially I do not want yours.”
He pulled me to him and held me close, stroking my hair. “I don't want to die and I don't intend to. I'll live through this, I promise you. Have I ever broken a promise to you?”
“No.” I buried my head in his shirt to hide my tears.
“That's right. I don't plan on starting now.”
“But you said this might be our last time together.”
“Oh, that. I meant tonight.” His words were light and reassuring, but his voice was choked. I lifted my head, our eyes met and in his I could read determination, fear, love.
“Well, then,” I said, attempting to keep my voice light, “that's an entirely different story, isn't it?”
 
We filled the waiting hours making love. At first I still protested that he should save his strength, but eventually I could not deny that I wanted him as much as he wanted me. Finally, I gave myself entirely to the experience, savoring and treasuring each caress, each kiss, each stroke.
A wildness filled us both, as if our humanity fell away from us. Perhaps it did. I felt, in the touch of his tongue, the mouth of the wolf on me, felt the hair on his head thicken under my fingers. My nails dug into his shoulders and arms like the lethal claws of the cat, leaving bloody ruts that I licked clean and watched heal. We had no voice, we had no breath, but we had bodies that melded and fit so closely I could not tell where I left off and he began.
Mitch buried himself inside me; he threw back his head and howled. The sound of his passion made the hair on my body stand on end and I growled my response. Frantically, desperately, we strove, grappling together, biting and licking, riding out each shuddering wave before being overwhelmed by the next. Then he slowed his thrusts, a deliberate gentling, but still diving deep within, wrenching orgasm after orgasm from my shivering body. His breathing grew deep and labored and I knew he was close to his own climax. I opened my eyes, to see his, glowing silver-blue in the darkness of the room.
Suddenly, as his seed filled me, we exploded into one another. We were one in body as we had been one as a mist. Blended and combined, never to be separated again.
As we rolled from one another, and lay panting on the bed, I did not feel an absence. I knew he was with me still, and would be with me for the rest of our days.
I also knew that there would be no difference between his death and mine.
 
When we arrived at the Ballroom the place was black, the front of the building locked up solidly. But Mark was there to let us in.
“What are you two up to?”
“We're taking inventory.”
“Oh, sure.” He winked at Mitch. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, go on home and have a good evening.”
I waited until I heard the back door close before speaking. “Do you think he'll actually show?”
Mitch laughed. “I'd be very much surprised if he isn't already here.” He took off his suit coat and flung it over one of the tables. I was surprised to see that he wasn't wearing his holster, even though I knew that the bullets would not permanently harm Larry. Then I nodded and smiled, knowing that he had sufficient confidence in his own powers to do without it was a comforting thought. He embraced me briefly, then walked to the center of the dance floor.
“Hey, Martin,” he called, “did you hear me? I know you're here, why don't you just crawl out of whatever hole you're hiding in and get this over with.”

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