Dalakis Passion 4 - Eternal Brothers (5 page)

He wanted to rage against the feeling even as he wanted to slide his cock into her
naked body and pound into her until they were both sweaty and crying out their
release.
"I can't tell you." He'd never trusted anyone with what he suspected. For that
matter, he'd never trusted anyone with anything. Not since his father had died.
He shoved that dark memory out of his mind. That was a long time ago and had
nothing to do with this.
She stood then, bringing her stomach right in line with his face. He'd only have to
reach up the tiniest bit to be able to take her nipple into his mouth. He barely
swallowed a groan as his cock began to throb again. Before he could reach out and yank
her into his arms, she stepped away and headed back to the door. There was no doubt
that he'd worn out his welcome and she was tossing him out on his ear.
He had a choice to make.
His head was advising caution. He could sneak back later when she was asleep or
the next time she went out again. But some deeper instinct was telling him to trust her.
Since his instincts had saved his life more times than he could count, he decided to trust
them.
"You can't tell anyone."
She stilled and turned slowly around. She stared at him long and hard, as if trying
to decide if she could trust him to keep his word. He deserved that, he supposed, but it
still made him bristle.
A series of raps came on the door. Zane was on his feet in a second, striding toward
her, drawing his weapon as he went. She blinked at him as he pushed her behind him.
"You expecting anyone?"
"Pizza."
She stepped out around him, eyeing the nine-millimeter semiautomatic he
had clutched in his right hand. "And I'm really hungry, so don't shoot the delivery
guy."
He grinned in spite of himself. Damn, but this woman had guts. "I'll just check." He
didn't wait for her consent, but went to the door and peered out through the peephole.
A bored teenage boy stood there with a large box in his hand and a bag in the other. He
holstered his weapon, unlocked the door and opened it.
"Delivery."
The young man rattled off the amount and Sophia all but pushed him
aside and handed several crisp bills to the delivery guy. He took the money and walked
away, sending a "thanks" over his shoulder.
Sophia hustled back to the living room, pizza in hand, leaving him to close and lock
the door. He guessed that meant that he was invited to stay for supper. The corners of
his mouth twitched upward into a slow smile. Maybe he'd be invited to stay for dessert
as well. Shutting the door and turning the locks, he followed her back into the living
room.
The delicious aroma of tomato sauce and cheese wafted from the box she was
carrying, but Sophia's appetite had disappeared. Zane York was a mystery. He wasn't
directly involved in the investigation, at least not in an official capacity. But he did
know something. Or at least he thought he did.
He sure was jumpy. He'd been by her side with his weapon drawn before she could
blink. For a large man, he sure could move quickly. She'd found herself staring at his
back before she could open her mouth to question him. It was
a strange feeling to have
someone try
to protect her. Not that she needed it. She was more than capable of taking
care of herself. She'd been on her own since she was sixteen. But still, it was nice that
he'd wanted to.
The living room, which was normally cozy and inviting, seemed almost too small
with him in it. Zane seemed to take up too much space and suck up almost all the air.
Sophia shook her head and sighed. She must be hungrier than she imagined. It was the
only reasonable explanation for such fanciful thoughts.
Dropping the box on the scarred wooden coffee table, she sat back in her chair. The
small sofa would have been better, but she needed some space from Zane. The man was
too potently male. He distracted her.
Digging into the bag, she drew out a bottle of soda and some napkins. Zane had
followed her back into the room and lowered himself to the edge of her sofa. Well, it
was a loveseat really. She didn't have room for a full-sized sofa. The blue fabric with its
smattering of flowers was comfortable enough, but most importantly, it matched her
chair and fit into the space.
"Help yourself." She opened the box and grabbed a slice of pizza, looping the
warm, stringy cheese around the crust before bringing it to her mouth and taking a
huge bite. She closed her eyes and chewed. Spices exploded against her tongue and she
groaned as she swallowed. Her stomach growled, reminding her it had been quite some
time since she'd bothered to feed it.
She opened her eyes to find Zane staring at her.
No, not at her, at her throat.
When
she'd closed her eyes and swallowed, she'd tilted her head back. His gaze wandered
upward to her mouth. Pure, unadulterated lust filled his gaze. She choked on what was
left of her pizza, coughing and sputtering as her eyes began to water. No man had ever
given her such a carnal look in all her thirty years.
Leaning over, he handed her the bottle of soda as he rubbed her back. She pushed
his hand away from her as she sipped some of the liquid and swallowed her pizza.
"You okay?"
She nodded, lowering her head for a moment, letting the deep, seductive tones of
his voice flow over her.
Sitting back, she tossed the remainder of her piece of pizza back into the box,
knowing she wasn't going to be able to eat with him sitting across from her watching
every bite. "Tell me what you know. Or," she grabbed a napkin and wiped her fingers,
"what you think you know."
Zane sat back and crossed his booted foot over his knee. It pulled the fabric of his
jeans tight against his thighs, outlining the thick muscles there. She forced herself to
look at his face and focus on what he was saying. Normally she had no trouble
concentrating on work. In fact, she was usually obsessed by her work. There was
something about this man that threw her off balance and she didn't like it. Not one bit.
It gave him power over her.
"Do you remember
Jethro
Prince?"
Sophia took a sip of soda as she searched her memory.
"Club owner.
Suspected of
dabbling in every crime from gambling to drugs to prostitution.
Found dead about
three years ago in an upstairs office at his club." She thought further, tapping her finger
against the edge of the sweaty bottle. "He and his right-hand man were both killed. The
police said it was gang-related."
"That's what they said."
It wasn't so much what Zane said, but how he said it that had her reporter's
instincts humming. "That's what they said," she repeated. "You don't agree?"
He didn't answer her, but asked her another question. "Do you remember that a
little while before that, there was talk that several of Prince's men went missing?"
Again she searched her memory. Leaning forward, she placed her bottle on the
table. "They never found any bodies."
"That's right."
Her mind was spinning, but she couldn't make any connections. "How are those
two incidents related to this murder?"
Zane shrugged. "I don't know. They might not be related at all, but my gut is telling
me otherwise."
She knew all about gut instincts. It was what separated ordinary reporters from
those who became the best. She'd always had a nose for sniffing out the truth and those
instincts were telling her that Zane was on to something.
Maybe something big.
"What do
you
think?"
He sat forward, planting both large feet on the floor and clasping his hands
between his spread thighs. "The incident in the alleyway involved a woman named
Delight
Deveraux
. She'd witnessed a murder and was caught when she ran from the
killers. The men turned up missing and she escaped. She claimed she didn't know what
happened to them."
Sophia nodded, remembering more of the details of the case.
"Trauma.
Fear.
It's
possible she blocked it all out." She couldn't imagine what that poor woman had gone
through.
"Then
came
the death of Prince a short time later. Both he and his man, Smith, were
found with their necks broken. No one saw anyone go up to the office. There was no
screaming, no fighting.
Nothing."
Sophia scuffed her slippers back and forth.
"Unusual, but then again, maybe not.
Most folks don't want to get involved, especially when it involves organized crime. It's
a good way to end up buried in an unmarked grave at the bottom of a swamp."
Zane raised an eyebrow, acknowledging her point. "One of the detectives on the
Deveraux
case was Sam Cassidy. He's a good cop--or at least I thought
he
was."
"You think he's hiding something."
"Maybe. He's not a cop any longer." Zane reached out and took her hand in his,
playing with her fingers. She tried to concentrate as he rubbed his thumb in slow circles
over the top of her hand. "He was also the first on the scene at Prince's club. He
discovered the bodies."
"Why was he there?"
"That's what I asked him. He said he'd gotten a tip."
"That's plausible." After all, she got tips all the time. That's how a lot of police work
and reporting got done.
"Plausible, except both times someone else was involved.
Someone with money and
power."
Sophia ignored the dip in her stomach and the shortness of her breath as Zane
turned her hand over and stroked the sensitive pads of her palm.
"Who?"
"Lucian
Dalakis
."
She froze, her blood running cold as she remembered the two words she'd found on
the note with the body last night. "What did you say?" She could feel all the blood
draining from her face.
"Delight
Deveraux
is now Delight
Dalakis
. She married him soon after the
incident."
"Maybe that's coincidence." As a reporter, she had to stay objective, but she knew
that Zane was right. There was a connection and it wasn't a good one.
Zane tilted his head to one side, studying her.
"Maybe.
But Sam Cassidy, the
detective in charge of both cases, recently quit the police force. You want to guess who
he works for now?"
It was easy to connect the dots. "Lucian
Dalakis
." She'd have to find out everything
there was to know about the man and his family. Maybe they were involved, or maybe,
like her, they were being pulled into a deadly game against their will. If she hadn't
taken the note last night, the police would already be questioning Mr.
Dalakis
.
"That's right." Zane's grip on her hand tightened. His face looked grim.
"And not
just Lucian, but the
Dalakis
family.
There are three brothers, but only two of them,
Lucian and Stefan, live in the United States. The eldest,
Cristofor
, lives with his wife in
Transylvania."
"Transylvania!" She knew she sounded like a parrot, but she couldn't help it. That
was just too unbelievable. Sophia shivered, but it had nothing to do with being cold.
Her mind was conjuring up all kinds of connections. Janice Barton's blood had been
drained from her body. She shook her head, unbelieving.
Zane sighed, his expression tight. "Did I mention that they're all vampires?"
"That's insane." She pulled her hand away from him. "Maybe they're involved in
some way.
Maybe some kind of cult or ritual killing."
She knew her voice was getting
louder and shriller, but she couldn't stop it.
Vampires
! She might not be from Louisiana
originally, but she'd lived here since she was sixteen. She knew all about the local
superstitions and beliefs, but she wasn't buying it.
Not for one second.
Chapter Four
Zane watched the color drain from Sophia's face, which was a feat in and of
itself
considering that she'd already been pale. She jumped to her feet, jarring the table and
tipping the bottle of soda that sat there. Only his quick reflexes allowed him to catch the
bottle and right it before the sticky liquid spilled everywhere.
Slowly Zane got to his feet and held his hand out to her. She ignored it and began to
pace. "You're crazy, you know that?" There was only room for her to take about six
paces. She turned when she got to the wall. "You're from New York, not New Orleans.
Besides that, you're a cop. You know better than to believe in mythical monsters."
"It's not myth, but fact." He hesitated, trying to figure out a way to prove it to her
without scaring her. "I've seen things in my lifetime." Some of them he'd do anything
to forget. He shook off the dark memory and focused on Sophia.
"Like what?" She skidded to a stop and crossed her arms over her chest, tapping
her slipper against the hardwood floor. The look in her eye told him he was on thin ice
and about five seconds from being tossed out of her apartment and probably her life as
well. His gut clenched at the mere thought. He wouldn't allow that to happen.
Something was happening between them, some sort of connection he'd never felt before
and he damn well wasn't going to lose it until he figured out exactly what it meant.
He sauntered over to her. One of her feet slid backward, but she stopped herself
from backing away and held her ground. He was ridiculously pleased with her show of
courage even though he knew it had nothing to do with him. When he stopped, he was
so close to her that the toes of his boots were brushing against the black noses of her
puppy-dog slippers. He could feel the heat of her body, smell the sweet scent of woman
and vanilla mixed with the mouthwatering aroma of tomato sauce and cheese.
What man could resist?
Leaning down, he watched as her lashes fluttered, brushing against her cheekbones.
When he pressed his lips against hers, she gave a slight whimper of need that set his
heart pounding. Her hands flattened against the hard planes of his stomach as if she
might shove him away.
He wasn't ready to be pushed away just yet. Flicking his tongue along the seam of
her lips, he traced it back and forth until they parted on a gasp. Taking his time, he