Hunting Daylight (9781101619032) (17 page)

In the front seat, Vivi’s head popped up, and Fielding gently pushed it down.

“Should we go back for the other car, sir?” he called.

“No, that’s what they hope we’ll do.” Raphael eased down on the seat beside me, one hand on the dog, the other on my knee. I sat still, conscious of the weight of his palm and the smoothness of his flesh. The air smelled like cologne, gunpowder, testosterone, and sex.

Raphael lifted his hand and let out a whoop.

They say that extreme danger can set off an endorphin rush. But I was feeling something stronger. A bolt of sexual awareness rushed through me, stronger than the wind that was flowing through the broken window. My heart started thumping. My breath came out in a rush. Every part of my body felt hot and cold and damp.

If the smoldering look on Gillian’s face was any barometer, she was feeling the same way. She scooted in next to Raphael, pushing her breasts into his arm, and ran her tongue over her lips. She brushed one palm over the brown leather seat. “Gosh almighty, it’s so soft and luscious,” she said, squeezing the upholstery. “Like sitting on a chocolate pie.”

“Where are you taking us, Raphael?” I asked.

He grinned, showing a flash of white teeth. “To see polar bears.”

EDINBURGH INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND

As the Learjet taxied down the runway, Raphael felt his pulse bumping against his temples. Not because of the car chase. Not because of the explosions. Not because of the mad dash to the Edinburgh airport. His heart was pounding because he was sitting between Gillian and Caro, and one of them was emanating a pheromone that pushed him beyond arousal.

Mio dio
, he thought. The source of the hormonal storm was almost unbearable. He pretended to scroll through messages on his iPhone, but his senses were engaged. Using his peripheral vision, he studied Gillian’s lovely face and body. Her Southern accent and manners were alluring, the ditzy attitude was annoying, but he suspected great depth behind this façade.

Was she giving off the pheromones? He dipped into her thoughts.

This decoy thing won’t work. I know we negotiated a price and everything, but I’m not taking Raphael’s money. I make two hundred K a year. I can buy my own Chanel bags, and I do. But you know what? I bet Raphael has never found a woman who isn’t a gold digger. I’m not that way. And he’s so damn good looking. I can just imagine his porcelain body on thousand-count Italian sheets. Once you sleep with one of
them,
that’s it, you can’t go back to human dick. That’s why I’m here. Not to be a decoy. But because I can’t get this vampire-lust shit out of my system. I want him. We could go into the lavatory now and join the mile-high club. But he’s loop-de-loop about Caro. Wonder why? She’s not beautiful. Maybe she almost has a Ph.D., but I haven’t seen one drop of brilliance. Me, I’ve got a B.A. in English from LSU and a law degree from Tulane. If Raphael gives me trouble, I’ll tie him up in litigation for years. Though I’d rather tie him up with scarves.

Raphael pulled out of her mind, trying not to smile. He lifted his iPhone and made a note to introduce Gillian to a charming vampire from Milan. Signore Lucio Savoldelli would appreciate her mind, as well as her beauty. Perhaps it would be mutual.

A shudder ran through the cabin as the jet picked up speed. He turned to Caro. She held Arrapato in her lap, telling him not to worry. Her cheeks were flushed, and she smelled as if she’d just stepped out of a pine forest. A curl fell across her cheek, and she smoothed it back.

A warm prickle ran down Raphael’s spine. He tried to read her thoughts, but he couldn’t. She sighed
and buttoned up her cardigan. The wool outlined her breasts.

She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. He became aware of a fullness in his groin, as if his trousers were too tight, and his zipper pressed painfully against him. He needed to conceal his hyperaroused state. Caro was sitting on his coat, so he looked around for a magazine or a blanket.

Nothing.

He reached for Arrapato, and the dog snapped at him.

“Lord have mercy,” Gillian said breathlessly, glancing between his legs. “Somebody’s packing a mighty big picnic basket.”

He shifted away from her.

At the exact moment the jet angled off the runway, Caro looked up at Raphael and smiled. He smiled back. Why did it always feel so good to be around her? Maybe his brain had confused lust with chemical aftershocks. Danger possessed a confusing sexual element. After all, adrenaline had brought down dynasties and destroyed civilizations.

“A really big picnic,” Gillian said, fanning herself.

As soon as the Learjet was in the sky, Vivi flung off her seat belt and marched up the aisle, where Raphael sat between her mom and Gillian.

“All right, somebody better tell me what’s going on,” Vivi said.

“We’re flying to Norway,” Raphael said, his eyes noncommittal.

“That’s not what I meant.” Vivi crossed her arms. “You threw grenades! You blew up a car.”

He nodded, but didn’t defend his crazy actions. Worse, her mom just sat there, petting the dog. The plane leveled, and Vivi almost lost her balance. She sat down hard in the seat across from her mom.

In the opposite row, Gillian leaned forward, pressing
her boobs against Raphael’s arm. “Well,
I
thought it was exciting,” she said. “Raphael, you were fantastic. You threw those grenades like the captain of a SWAT team.”

Her gooey, sticky words dripped in the pressurized air. Vivi felt an urge to run to the lavatory and splash water on her face, but she forced herself to stay put. She glared at Raphael.

“Why did those men chase us?”

Her mom set the dog on Raphael’s lap and unbuckled her seat belt. She got up and crouched in the aisle, looking at Vivi.

“We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

“It’s because of me.” Vivi swallowed. “Because of that prophecy crap.”

Her mom gave Raphael a helpless look, which made Vivi more upset. Like they knew something but were afraid to tell her. Maybe this wasn’t about her. After all, they’d been perfectly safe for years and years. But the minute Raphael had shown up at Manderford, weird things began to happen.

“What is really going on?” Vivi asked Caro. “Is Mrs. MacLeod okay? Is someone chasing Raphael? Did he piss somebody off? Does he owe money to a casino?”

Caro shook her head. “Raphael hasn’t done anything but try to help us.”

“Liar,” Vivi said. “Why did he show up in Scotland before sunset? Why were guns and bombs in his limo? Why did a jet just happen to be waiting at the Edinburgh airport? He knew something bad was going down, and he dragged us along.”

Raphael glanced toward the front of the jet, where
Fielding sat on a beige leather sofa, hunched over a computer screen. “Our guests need refreshments,” he called.

“Vivi, you need to calm down,” Caro said. “And lower your voice.”

“No. Ask Raphael why he hired Gillian to be your decoy.” Vivi gave him a triumphant smile.

“No more talking, Vivi. I mean it.” Caro spoke softly, but her face looked tired.

“I’ll calm down if you do,” Vivi said.

Caro got to her feet and sat down. A few minutes later, Fielding brought their drinks. A Sprite for Vivi and two frosty glasses with brown liquid for her mom and Gillian.

The blonde leaned across Raphael and held out her glass. “Give Vivi a sip of my old-fashioned. It’ll calm her down.”

Caro’s eyebrows went up. “She’s only thirteen.”

“She’s also having a panic attack,” Gillian said. “I don’t mean to traipse in your beeswax, but she needs bourbon. My mama used to give it to me when I was in diapers, and I turned out okay.”

Yeah, right
, Vivi thought, and put down her Sprite. She didn’t want a drink; she wanted the truth. But she wouldn’t get answers while they were on this stupid jet because her mom was secretive and freaky. She wouldn’t say anything about the prophecy around Gillian, nor would she say anything mean about Raphael. He’d probably done something horrid, like bankrupted a small country. Or maybe he’d run off with someone’s wife.

Gillian was still holding out her glass, red lipstick plastered on the rim; her arm was pressed firmly against Raphael’s chest. “Raph, honey. Hand this to Vivi.”

Raphael took the glass, ice tinkling, and gave Caro a questioning stare. She lifted one shoulder, not a full shrug, but the little half-gesture that people do when they’ve given up. Raphael leaned across the aisle and put the drink in Vivi’s hands.

“Just one sip,” he said.

Vivi turned the glass until she found a clear spot, then took a long swallow. It tasted sugary and tart, but on the way down, it burned like jalapeño jelly. Other than that, she didn’t feel tipsy or happy or anything. She took another sip.

“Enough,” Caro said.

Raphael looked amused, but he plucked the glass from Vivi’s hand and gave it back to Gillian. Caro put down her drink and got up, then walked to the lavatory.

“Let her have another sip,” Gillian told Raphael.

“I don’t want it,” Vivi said. “It tastes like mouthwash. And I don’t feel a thing. So
there
.”

“Maybe you’ve got a hollow leg,” Gillian said, fishing a shriveled cherry out of her glass.

“I do not,” Vivi snapped.

Gillian cut her gaze at Raphael. “Where did you learn to be a ninja vampire?”

“Ninja school,” he said.

“Do you always carry explosives in your limo?” Gillian set down her glass.

He didn’t answer. From the front of the jet, Fielding called, “At least he didn’t bring the flamethrower.”

Vivi’s cheeks felt hot. She lifted her Sprite and slipped a piece of ice into her mouth. She wouldn’t ever admit it, but Raphael had been awesome. He’d thrown that
grenade like it was an avocado. She’d never seen anything blow up except on television. In real life, it was icky and cool, all at once. But loud. Her ears were still ringing.

She tapped the tips of her sneakers together, glancing at Gillian. Someday Vivi would wear a red dress, and her boobs would poof up like bread dough. She watched Gillian open a crimson leather pocketbook, pull out a mirrored compact, and finger her curls, humming to herself.

Vivi swallowed the ice, then shivered. “Why are you so calm?” she asked Gillian. “We almost got shot to death.”

“Because it’s over.” Gillian rubbed a finger over her teeth.

“But it could happen again,” Vivi said.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Gillian snapped her compact shut and dropped it in her purse. “Life is too itty-bitty to waste time on scary shit. You remember that, you hear?”

Halfway to the Arctic Circle, Raphael tracked the sensual smell to Caro. It moved out of her and burrowed under his skin. Or was he imagining it? He tried to look into her thoughts, but each time he tried, he felt a subtle resistance.

Was she blocking him? No, Caro wasn’t into games. She was the most honest, decent woman he’d ever known. But there was something else. Something that kept pulling him in. The first time they’d met, he’d felt an elemental attraction to her, but what had she felt?