Dalakis Passion 4 - Eternal Brothers (3 page)

the ground. Luckily for her it was Robert Cuthbert, an officer she knew, or she might
have found herself quickly arrested.
"Daring."
He propped his hands on his waist and
glared at her. "I might have known it was you when dispatch said a woman had
reported a dead body."
Sophia shrugged. "What can I say? Some girls have all the fun." Her words were
filled with bravado even as her stomach roiled.
His gaze softened as he shook his head at her. The clearing filled up with
professionals here to do their job, and now that she was no longer alone, her legs began
to tremble and her head began to spin.
Officer Cuthbert reached out and took her by the arm. "Why don't you come with
me back to the station? We'll get you a cup of coffee and you can tell us how you came
to be here."
She tipped her head up to the night mist, letting it wash over her face. Her skin felt
flushed and her stomach slightly ill. She definitely didn't want any coffee, but she'd
have it all the same. They'd expect it of her. If she had any hope in hell of getting even
the minutest of details from the cops, she'd have to act like the professional she
professed to be.
As they made their way back to the cemetery gate, Sophia took a deep breath. "It all
started with a phone call."
Zane stood several hundred feet away in the shadow of a large tomb and watched
as the uniformed officer led the woman away. His fingers curled into the stone as pure,
jealous rage washed over him. He wanted to rush over to the officer and rip his hand
off the woman's arm.
She belonged to him.
He shook his head and forced himself to breathe. What the hell was the matter with
him? She was just an ordinary woman and one he'd never seen before. Why was she
able to bring out these feelings of possessiveness in him?
His eyes narrowed as he heard her speak. The sound of her voice washed over him,
caressing his skin as it seeped into the very marrow of his bones. Every cell in his body
went on alert, his muscles tightening painfully. His cock stirred and thickened, pressing
against the zipper of his jeans. His instincts urged him to grab the woman and whisk
her from this place of death, locking her away from the rest of the world. Lust pounded
through his veins, a primal rhythm that threatened to overwhelm him. She was so
much smaller than he
was,
her bones more slender and fragile.
He needed to protect her.
Releasing his death grip on the tombstone, he took a step back and scrubbed his
hands over his face. Mist clung to his skin, making it feel clammy. He had to get control
over himself. Whoever the woman was, she was obviously a danger to him. That meant
he had to find out everything there was to know about her.
That wouldn't be a problem. He wasn't without certain skills, plus he still had a lot
of contacts on the police force. By dusk tomorrow night, he'd know everything there
was to know about her. He'd figure out why she was here and how she was involved in
this gruesome murder. Once that was done, he could dismiss her from his mind.
Simple.
He ignored the twinge in his gut that told him that it would be easier said than
done. He watched as she vanished from view and had to force himself not to chase her.
An emptiness
grew deep inside him, making him ache in ways he never had before.
Every instinct that he had was screaming at him not to let her disappear in the company
of another man.
Is this what his father had felt like when his mother had lost her mind? Zane
wondered. Was it this overwhelming void that had driven his father mad, eventually
turning him into a monster that had to be destroyed?
Zane had seen what love and relationships could do to a man and he wanted no
part of it. Whoever this woman was, he'd find out what he needed to know about her
and then stay as far away from her as possible.
Even as he finished that thought, his ears were still tuned to the woman in the
distance. He listened hard, but he heard nothing but the sound of a car pulling away.
They were taking her to the station for questioning. She would be safe for the rest of the
night.
Not that he cared. She was nothing to him.
His gut clenched and he broke out into a sweat at the thought of never seeing her
again. Although he might wish otherwise, that woman was nothing to him and she was
part of whatever had happened here tonight.
Swearing beneath his breath, he forced himself to slink closer to the crime scene
where he watched and listened as they processed the body. He wasn't sure what exactly
had occurred in the cemetery tonight, but he'd been drawn here by pure instinct and
the scent of fresh blood. Perhaps it was the unknown woman who had pulled him here.
Whatever it was, it was important to him and he wouldn't rest until he knew why.
Chapter Two
Less than twenty-four hours later, Zane stood in the shadows outside an older
Victorian-style home that had been converted into three separate apartments. Sophia
Daring lived in the smallest apartment on the top floor. He repeated her name silently
in his mind. She didn't look like a Sophia. Someone with that name should be dark-
haired with sloe eyes and
pouty
, red lips. That was nothing like the woman he'd trailed
to the police station last night.
After he'd finished at the crime scene, he'd made his way back to the station. Using
his contacts, he'd found out who she was and had been surprised to find out that she
was a reporter. That was the last thing he needed in his life. His business was his own,
and he certainly didn't want to read about it in the evening news. It complicated an
already messy matter.
But the cops he'd talked to had spoken of her with a grudging respect. They might
not like reporters in general, but they at least put Sophia a step ahead of the rest of the
pack. He'd heard some stories of how she'd stayed behind when the city had been in
peril, how she'd helped them rescue some folks stranded by the hurricane and, later,
pull bodies out of homes.
He'd lurked in the shadows studying her, watching as she was questioned for
several hours. He figured she was about five foot six and one hundred and twenty
pounds. Zane had always been drawn to women with voluptuous curves, but he'd been
unable to tear his eyes away from Sophia, with her slender build and slim hips. Even
her breasts were compact, less than a handful. His experienced eye told him she was a
B-cup, but just barely. Her torso was short, her legs long.
All the
better to wrap around
his hips as he pounded into her.
But it was her face that really drew him. She reminded him of a picture of a fairy
princess from a book that he remembered his mother reading to him when he was just a
child. Her hair was a deep shade of red that was cut so short it stood up in spikes on the
top of her head, and it looked as if she made a habit of running her fingers though it.
Her nose was pert and he'd bet his life's savings that she had at least a few freckles
sprinkled across it. Her lips were rosy and surprisingly full, begging a man to nibble on
them before he kissed her. Her forehead was high, her cheeks prominent and her chin
was narrow and slightly pointed, jutting out at a stubborn angle.
Her eyes were huge in her small face and her lashes looked almost too heavy for
her. He would have thought them false except she wasn't wearing any other makeup
that he could see. What he really wanted was to see the color of those amazing eyes, but
she'd never looked in his direction.
She never lost her cool throughout the long, relentless questioning. Although, near
the end, he could see she was tiring. Once again, he'd been filled with an unrelenting
urge to whisk her away and tuck her into bed, preferably with her stretched naked
beneath him.
He bit back a groan at the memory and glanced down at the front of his black jeans.
Sure enough, he was as hard as a spike again. What was it about this particular woman
that sent his hormones into overdrive?
It wasn't as if she was overly beautiful. He'd dated and slept with some
exceptionally gorgeous women in his lifetime, but none of them had made him feel the
way Sophia did. He had a feeling that nothing would satisfy him until he'd touched and
tasted every inch of her delectable body. His breathing increased as he imagined
thrusting deep into her hot, wet core. His cock flexed against his zipper, demanding
release. Swearing, he reached down and adjusted himself, but it didn't help.
Tipping his head back against the cool stone of the wall that surrounded the house,
he took a deep breath and slowly released it. This wasn't good. He needed all his
control.
Especially now.
He'd had to leave the station house before they were finished questioning her. He
hadn't wanted to, but it couldn't be helped. But what little he'd managed to glean about
the ongoing investigation hadn't been good. The victim from the cemetery had been
drained of blood.
His gut was telling him that the
Dalakis
brothers had to be involved in this mess
somehow. His instincts had led him to the scene of the crime last night and to Sophia.
Now it was up to him to discover just how she was involved in this whole mess. He
hoped, for her sake, that she was just an innocent bystander who had been dragged into
this. But once again, his gut was telling him that she, like him, was here for a reason.
Pushing away from the wall, he headed toward the front door. It was time to talk to
Ms. Daring.
Sophia stared at the far wall in her office. A large corkboard dominated the center,
and it was now filled with pictures and reports. The young woman now had a name.
Janice Barton had been a fulltime student, studying to be a teacher. Now she'd never
have a chance to finish. She'd volunteered at a soup kitchen once a month, was well
liked by her teachers and her friends and had left behind a family who was grieving
deeply.
Turning away, Sophia dug the heels of her hands into her burning eyes. She'd only
had a couple of hours' rest in the last forty-eight hours, and those few had come before
the phone call last night. But every time she closed her eyes, the gruesome scene from
the cemetery filled her mind. She could forget about rest, at least for now. Work was the
answer. She'd work until she was too exhausted to think any longer. Hopefully then
she'd fall into a stupor and sleep for at least a few hours.
She'd gotten home just after dawn this morning and had immediately written up a
story. It had been front-page news in all today's papers, and not just locally. Sophia
now had several contracts for follow-up pieces. Sometimes how she made her living
sucked, but it was what she did, who she was. What she really wanted to do was to
bring Janice Barton some peace by finding out who had done this to her.
Shuffling out of the room, the long ears of her puppy-dog slippers dragging on the
hardwood floor, she made her way to the kitchen. She hadn't really eaten all day either.
Didn't really want anything now.
But she knew that she needed fuel if she expected her
body to keep functioning properly.
The shower she'd had when she'd finally gotten home just after six this evening
had revived her slightly. Once she'd toweled off, she'd yanked on her cotton drawstring
pajama bottoms and a matching pink tank top and gone straight to her office. Now, two
hours later, she was no further ahead and her stomach was complaining loudly.
Opening the refrigerator door, she peered inside. Not much to choose from here.
She'd forgotten to get groceries.
Again.
There was a partial bottle of mayonnaise, some
French salad dressing, a part of a block of butter and a container of milk that she knew
had been there way too long.
The cupboard was no better--a partial box of cereal, some stale crackers, a can of
tuna and a jar of peanut butter. Slamming the door shut, she reached for the phone,
making her decision. Takeout it was. Dialing by rote, she tapped her foot against the
floor as she listened to the rings. A harried-sounding young man answered on the sixth
ring. Sophia quickly ordered a large pizza with the works. She figured that way she'd
have leftovers, so that took care of tomorrow's food as well. Hanging up the phone, she
decided to try to relax while she waited for her supper to be delivered.
Padding into the tiny living room, she sank her tired bones down into her favorite
chair. It was slightly rounded in shape, covered in plush blue velvet and was incredibly
comfortable. Sophia liked it because it was large enough for her to curl up in.
She'd placed a table alongside it and a reading lamp behind it. She'd passed many
an evening reading or doing a crossword or just relaxing. And how pathetic
was that
,
she thought as she drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. She really
didn't have much of a social life. But then again, she never had. Social interaction
wasn't easy for her. She felt awkward and gawky, just as she had since she was a child.
Give her work any day. When she was working, she had no trouble talking to people.
Of course, she wasn't really talking to them--more like just questioning them.
Tilting back her head, she closed her eyes and let out a huge sigh. She was too tired
for such introspection. Besides which, she'd been through it all before and had come to
terms with who she was. Two failed relationships had taught her that she was better off
on her own.
Reaching up behind her, she started to pull down the thick blue throw blanket that
was draped across the back of the chair. Before she could do more than touch the corner
of it, a loud, authoritative thump came on her front door.
She frowned as she uncurled her legs and pushed her tired body out of the chair. It
was too soon for the delivery guy. The more she thought about it, the more it sounded
like a cop's knock. Cops had their own way of announcing themselves.
She hoped it wasn't the detectives in charge of the case with more questions. She'd
had enough questions last night and again this afternoon when she'd taken her
answering machine tape in to them. She'd thought Detective Simpson was going to
blow a vein in his