Edge of Midnight (33 page)

But looking at Liv’s elegant back seated at the microfiche reader, he realized it was backwards. He wanted to handcuff her to his body, he was so anxious to keep her safe. He was so afraid of failing.

His track record sucked, so far. He’d never gotten there on time to save anyone. He’d been too small, when Mom died. He still remembered his fury. He’d dreamt of saving her with some act of glorious heroism. Woken up crying because it wasn’t real.

He’d been the one to find his father lying in the crushed bean vines, staring up at the sky. Eamon’s body had still been warm.

Kev had been burned to ash by the time he galloped to the rescue. He’d been too late to help his older brothers when they got into their messes, too. Thank God, they’d pulled themselves out of the shit with their skins largely intact. No thanks to him.

“Sean.” Liv’s voice vibrated with excitement. “Take a look at this.”

He leaped up, and stared over her shoulder at the screen, displaying an editorial, by Jeremy Ivers, dated November 2.

The Brain Drain: Young Geniuses Vanish.

Micky Wheeler was puzzled. Sunday morning, bright and early, his friend and classmate, Heath Frankel, a doctoral candidate in applied physics at the University of Washington, didn’t show for their climbing date. Messages were unanswered. His apartment was deserted. When Micky tried to get in touch with Heath’s only close relative, an uncle in San Diego, he found the uncle away on business. After days of worry, Micky went to the police and filed a missing persons report.

That same day, he heard of another acquaintance, Craig Alden, a computer engineering student at University of Washington. According to Alden’s girlfriend, he’d disappeared at the same time. Coincidentally, Alden also had little family to sound the alarm. As one friend put it, “He’s a genius, but he parties hard. He’s probably sleeping off a bender in a hotel in Reno.”

Sean skimmed the rest, pulled out his cell, and dialed Davy.

“Yeah?” Davy demanded. “So? What did the janitor say?”

“He saw bodies, blood, and a guy who threatened to eat his grandkids’ livers. He doesn’t want to be involved. Find me a guy named Jeremy Ivers. Reporter. Wrote for the Washingtonian fifteen years ago. Have Nick check on the status of these missing persons. Heath Frankel and Craig Alden.” He hung up, before Davy could bust his balls.

Liv blinked up at him. “And now?”

“Now Davy does his magic thing and finds the reporter.”

She looked up through her eyelashes. “I don’t suppose we could do anything so mundane as get some lunch in the meantime?”

He opened his mouth to say no when his stomach growled.

The seafood restaurant Liv picked had a great view of the surf. There was something surreal about ordering food in a restaurant with a woman. Like they were playing make-believe at being a normal couple.

He felt much more anchored to the ground after his combo platter. Lobsters in drawn butter, plus smaller portions of barbecued shrimp, pan fried oysters, grilled swordfish and batter fried halibut, with baked potato and Ceasar salad for sides.

Afterwards, Liv tried to drag him down to the beach, which is where he drew the line. “No way,” he told her. “We’re lying low.”

“Oh, come on,” she coaxed. “We’re just another couple on the beach. No one knows we’re here. We didn’t even know we were coming.”

That was when he saw it, and practically broke his own neck twisting to look. A stunt kite, the kind that could pick an unwary man off his feet on a blustery day and carry him to his death. He had several himself, but this one made his heart jump out of his chest. He recognized the hypnotic mandala on it. Kev had painted that design onto their bedroom ceiling the year their father had died. He’d spent hours lying on his cot, staring at it.

He took off after it, feet churning in the sand, dragging Liv behind him, his hand clamped like an iron manacle over her slender wrist.

“Sean? Sean!” she protested. “Hey! Ouch! Where are you going?”

He couldn’t answer. His heart was going to explode like a grenade. The guy flying the kite had a pointy goatee. He wore tie-dye, baggy canvas shorts. He saw Sean heading towards him. His eyes went big.

“Where did you get that kite?” Sean gasped out.

The guy’s jaw flapped. “I didn’t steal it—”

“I never said you did.” Sean could not control the snarling edge in his voice. “Just tell me who you got it from.”

The guy kept backing away to keep his kite aloft. “Uh…uh, at a sporting goods shop, in San Francisco. They specialize in—”

“Who designed it?” he barked out.

The kite sagged, and the guy scuttled backwards to take out the slack. “I dunno. I’d, uh, have to look at the packaging. Some outfit in the Bay Area. Hey, dude. I gotta catch this breeze. Take it easy.”

He darted away, casting nervous glances back over his shoulder.

Sean stared after him, heart pounding. Liv was saying something, but he could only make out the soothing tone. He hugged her fiercely.

“It’s OK, it’s OK,” she was murmuring, over and over.

He shook his head. It wasn’t OK. He was losing it.

“…was that all about?” she was asking him gently.

He took a deep breath, and blurted out the truth. “That kite,” he said, exhausted. “That black and orange design. It’s one of Kev’s. He painted it on the ceiling of our bedroom when we were kids.”

“Ah.” Her arms tightened. She pressed her warm, soft lips against his shoulder. “And did you think that—”

“No,” he broke in savagely. “I didn’t think. Kev’s been dead fifteen years. And I still didn’t think. See? That’s my problem. I never think.”

“No.” Her soft voice was stubborn. “You don’t have a problem. You think just fine. You just think…differently. But you’re brilliant.”

The burst of laughter hurt his throat. “Brilliant. Freaking out over a kite while I’m supposed to be protecting you? Yeah, babe. Genius.”

He stared into those black-fringed gray eyes. Felt sweaty-palmed hunger grip him, revving his engines. Adrenaline, shifting into lust.

She sensed it, and stiffened. “Don’t you give me that look, you sex freak. You’re not going to get lucky with me on a public beach in broad daylight, so get it out of your head.”

He saw a solution. Made for it, towing her behind him.

“And just where do you think you’re taking me?” she asked.

He jerked his chin at the building. “That hotel.”

Liv stumbled into the hotel room, backing up as Sean advanced on her. She circled the bed, putting it between them. He pulled the drapes closed with a hard yank. They stared at each other in the dimness.

That predatory look in his eyes made her feel like a quivering virgin who could barely guess what was in store for her. Heart hammering, belly tightening, breathless excitement. Her lips, her breasts, her crotch, all tingled and buzzed. Her laughing, teasing, playful Sean who wheedled and coaxed and patiently, skilfully seduced her into sex was nowhere to be seen.

This man would not coax. He would take what he wanted.

He made her stammering and stupid; his big, gorgeous body, the stark beauty of his battered face. Those eyes. He could ignite desperate yearning inside her with just one smoldering look.

And it was all the more potent for the silence, the waiting.

He ripped off the shirt he’d bought that morning. She just couldn’t get used to the lean, sinewy perfection of his body.

“You’re wearing some of that sexy underwear under that dress?” The seductive rasp of his voice dragged over her nerves like silken fur.

She tried to reply, but her breath was too uneven. A stuttering squeak came out. She opted for a nervous nod.

“Strip,” he said softly. “Show me.”

She leaned down, began unbuckling the delicate ankle straps.

“No,” he said. “Leave on the shoes.”

She straightened, running her hands over the curves of her body, modeling the stretchy sheath dress for him. It was sexy, comfy, a blend of rust, orange and brown. The nine hundred dollar price tag that had dangled from the sleeve was a blatant provocation. “Do you like my dress?” she asked shakily. “I hope so, because you paid enough for it.”

“I like it fine,” he growled. “Get it off.”

She took her time, tugging up the clinging skirt, in no hurry to reveal the lingerie she’d put on that morning. The thigh-high brown stockings, trimmed with brown and gilt lace that by some freak of masterful design actually stayed up. The chiffon panties, the sheer, clinging chemise. The transparent demi-bra, which hoisted her boobs up to unheard-of heights while still managing to look delicate.

She pulled the dress over her head, careful not to dislodge the wig, and shook the unfamiliar wavy locks loose over her shoulders.

“Take off the wig,” he commanded.

Liv ran her fingers through the curls. “I kind of like it. Pretending to be someone else is freeing, you know? I’m just some anonymous blonde in a hotel room. Who knows which way I’ll jump?”

“I’ve fucked lots of anonymous blondes in hotel rooms,” he said. “I’m bored with it. I want to fuck you. Lose the wig. Now.”

She peeled the wig off, muttering under her breath as she plucked out pins, and shook the dark mass of hair down into a kinky, tangled cloud over her back. She lifted her chin. “Happy now?”

“I’m getting there,” he rasped. “Soon. I’ll be happy very soon.”

She backed up against the vanity. He loomed over her, stealing all the oxygen, blocking all the light. Her bottom pressed hard against the cool, varnished wood. He kicked her legs apart and stood between them. The fine chiffon snagged on the rough spots on his hands.

He sank down onto his knees in front of her, took one of her feet, caressing it in his big, warm hands before draping it over his shoulder.

“Pull the crotch away,” he directed her. “Show me your pussy.”

She shivered with dizzy excitement as she tugged the damp scrap of chiffon out of the way. She was so aroused, puffy and pink and wet.

He let out a long sigh of delight. “Wow. So shiny and pink. You glow. Put your finger inside your pussy. Show me how wet you are.”

She bit her lip, shaking uncontrollably as she parted her labia and slid her finger inside herself. She wanted to do it seductively, like a strip tease, but she was too aroused to choreograph herself.

She pulled her finger out. Sean seized her hand, dragged her finger into his mouth. The hot, tight suction sent delicious shivers of longing through her. He pulled her finger out of his mouth.

“Hold your panties out of the way while I get my fix,” he ordered.

She couldn’t speak, or breathe, or do anything but watch. Her arm trembled at the strain of supporting her body while her other hand held the gusset of her panties aside so that he could have at her with his skillful, ravenous tongue.

He gripped her hips while his tongue lashed and thrust into her juicy folds, swirling around, stabbing deep, then trilling deliciously with his tongue. His position was submissive, but he was anything but. He took what was all his, laying claim to her pleasure. Every time demanding more from her, every time a deeper, wider surrender.

She quivered in his ruthless grip, pushing herself eagerly against his face. The mirror was cold and hard against her back, the edge of the vanity cut into her bottom, she didn’t even know anymore which way gravity was supposed to be pulling her except closer to his hungry, sucking mouth, closer, whipping her up to a screaming intensity—

Wave after wave of sweet hot pleasure throbbed through her, lapping over every nerve.

Far too soon after that, he pulled her up onto her rubbery legs, turning her so they both faced the mirror. She caught herself with her hands on the edge of the dresser, panting through flushed, shaking red lips as he kicked off his jeans. Naked and hard and huge.

“I like the mirror,” he said. “I want you to watch your own face while I fuck you. I want you to see how hot you look when you’re sighing and moaning and coming. Pull your panties down, Liv.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do it like this, standing up,” she said breathlessly. “No way. I’m…I’m jelly. I’ll melt. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” A merciless smile curved his mouth. “You will. You’ll do whatever I want. You like it that way. You like me this way.”

He had her, the arrogant bastard, but there was nothing she could do when he touched her like that, nuzzling the hair away from the nape of her neck while he yanked her panties halfway down her thighs.

“You jerk. You’re b-being ridiculous,” she forced out.

“Works for me.” He tugged her arms until they folded. “Prop yourself up on your elbows. I love your ass at that angle. I can see your pussy lips kissing my cock. I like to see your legs shake. I want to fuck you until you’re tottering on those heels.” He kissed her nape. The scorching contact of his skin against her body made her gasp.

“I love to make you tremble,” he murmured. “I love to make you weak, to make you wet.” His voice was hypnotic, almost chanting. “I love to make you moan and whimper.” He fitted the blunt head of his penis against her, easing it with licking, back-and-forth strokes between her labia. “Make some noise when I shove my cock into you.”