Love Your Entity (9 page)

“Good point.”

“Are the surveillance cameras in the house working yet?” Ronan asked.

“No.” Damon’s voice hardened again. “And I’m not happy about that. Neville says it’s a software problem and he’s working on it. What makes you ask?”

“I just thought it might provide some answers as to why Sierra can’t be compelled.”

“We will find out soon, I can promise you that,” Damon said.

Ronan managed to sidestep any further questioning but he didn’t relax until he’d left the bar. He was always on guard. Not that other vampires were the type to spill their guts. But being indentured made you different from your own kind. He knew it and Damon knew it.

Thanks to the still malfunctioning surveillance cameras, Damon didn’t know that Voz had paid Ronan a little visit and Ronan planned on keeping it that way.

*   *   *

“Have you come up with a plan yet?” Ruby asked Sierra.

“No.”

“What are you doing?”

“Research,” Sierra said.

“About what?”

“Hal.” Sierra shivered after saying his name. “Is he here?”

“He’s everywhere.”

“He can leave the house?”

“No. At least I don’t think so. He never has in the past.”

“Has he ever come downstairs in the past?”

“Not often.”

“What about the tunnels under the house? Can he go there?”

“I already told you that I can’t talk about that.”

“The tunnel under this house was an escape route, wasn’t it? In case there was a raid. It wasn’t just used to bring liquor in, it was used to smuggle people out.”

Ruby remained quiet.

“What happened to that driver you had a crush on?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby whispered.

“Tell me his name, and I’ll find out what happened for you.”

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

But Sierra could tell Ruby was tempted. “Come on, tell me.”

“His name was Johnny. Johnny Olivetti.”

Sierra did a Google search. Nothing. Then she tried other subject headings, like Capone’s drivers.

“He never drove Al,” Ruby said. “When Al came to the house, he used his own driver. Johnny was only used for the girls’ transportation. And liquor deliveries.”

“What about money drops? Is that why Al came to the house?”

“No, he came every once in a while to talk to Hal. Not very often. Maybe twice a year.”

“Where did Hal take the money?”

“Various bank accounts. Hal kept two sets of books. One for himself and one for the—”

“The Chicago mob. Was Hal skimming money off the top? That could be why he was killed,” Sierra said.

Sierra kept searching. Finally she found Hal’s obituary. “Died for undisclosed reasons. Wait, here’s another one that is tied to a police report. Died from a gunshot wound to the back of the head.”

“Who shot him? It wasn’t me. I was dead by then,” Ruby said.

“They didn’t find the shooter.”

“Maybe it was Johnny. If he knew that Hal killed me, Johnny would have done something about it.”

“We could always ask Hal.”

“Are you crazy?” Ruby turned even whiter than usual. “He’d go ballistic.”

“He’s already trashed my room. What else can he do?”

“Plenty.”

“Can he throw dishes at Ronan like you did?” Sierra asked.

“I didn’t like the way he’s been talking to you. And yes, Hal can do much worse.”

“How do you know? Has he done something to others in this house?”

“Your cousins, you mean? No, I was able to get rid of them on my own,” Ruby said.

“Then why…?”

“Shortly after his death, when he first was here in this house as a ghost, Hal shoved someone down the stairs.”

Fear shot through Sierra. “That’s not good.”

The temperature in her bedroom suddenly dropped and Sierra felt a thick stillness that did not bode well. She sensed an evil presence growing and she could tell from Ruby’s frightened face that she was aware of it as well.

The sound of the front door slamming made them both jump.

The next sound was Ronan swearing. The feeling of an evil presence disappeared and was replaced with the continued curses of Sierra’s clearly unhappy temporary housemate.

Yanking open her bedroom door to confront him, she said, “What is your problem?”

It belatedly occurred to her that it might have been smarter on her part to stay out of his way instead of confronting him.

“You,” he said. “You’re my problem.”

“Hey, I already told you that I did not throw those plates at you.”

“Right. They just happened to fly halfway across the kitchen on their own.”

“Stranger things have happened,” she muttered.

“Like what?” he immediately demanded.

“Like you smelling cigar smoke,” she said, silently congratulating herself for coming up with something that was in his bailiwick.

“That wasn’t strange.”

“You thought it was at the time.”

“I changed my mind.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t suppose you have the original blueprints for the house?”

“No.”

“
Any
blueprints for the house?”

“No.”

She thought she heard him mutter “Good” under his breath but she couldn’t be sure. What was he hiding? She knew what she was hiding—a pair of ghosts, one good and one bad. But Ronan had some sort of secret of his own.

“Where are you going?” Ronan demanded.

“I thought this would be a good time to check out the basement.”

“You thought wrong.”

“What do you have stashed down there?”

“There’s a lot of old stuff down there.”

“So?”

“So…” He looked deep into her eyes. “You don’t want to go into the basement.”

“I am not falling for that,” she said impatiently.

“For what?”

“For that I’m-so-sexy-look-at-me look. It doesn’t work on me.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he muttered.

“Doesn’t seem to stop you trying though.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

She put her hand on the doorknob.

He put his hand over hers.

She felt a strange kind of zing. His touch was responsible for making her heart go faster and her hormones to race out of control. He’d touched her last night when she’d had that terrible nightmare and she’d felt safe. Now she felt something else. Not danger exactly. Desire.

Yep, this was definitely desire. She hadn’t felt it for a while, not since … well, actually never. Not this strong. Not just from a man’s hand covering hers. Which made her wonder what it would feel like to have his mouth covering hers, or his naked body covering hers.

She already knew his naked body was damn fine. The chemistry between them was undeniable. Was this lust at first glance? She’d never wanted a man so badly so quickly. What was going on here?

She was still wondering about that when the basement door suddenly flew open, knocking her backward off her feet and into Ronan’s arms.

Chapter Eight

Ronan caught her in his arms, preventing her from falling. She felt the air humming, but maybe that was because her entire body was humming. Especially the parts that were pressed against his body, like her breasts.

Putting her hands on his broad shoulders didn’t help matters any. Instead, it seemed to make it easer for him to lower his head until his lips covered hers. She should have minded him taking possession of her mouth so totally but she didn’t because it felt so damn good. The touch of his tongue was darkly seductive.

He tilted his head to increase the angle and therefore the intimacy of their kiss … their slow, erotic, irresistible kiss.

But she should resist. She couldn’t remember why exactly because her mind was filled with the waves of pleasure and the excitement of the moment. This was far and away the best kiss she’d ever had. She should be thinking of ways to extend it not end it.

Every breath brought her closer to wanting more of him. She wanted his mouth on her naked body, his lips pressed against her breast, his tongue seducing her nipple.

No, wait, this wasn’t right. Ronan was kissing her to distract her from going into the basement and she was letting him. She surprised him by breaking off their embrace and sliding under his arm to hurry down the stairs.

Ronan rushed after her. “I can explain,” he began.

She kept racing down the stairs. Only when she was at the bottom did she turn and say, “Explain what?”

Frowning, he glanced around.

“What are you looking for?” she asked suspiciously.

“Nothing.”

“Did you kiss me to try and prevent me from coming down here?” she demanded. “If so, it didn’t work,” she added proudly.

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“So you’re not even bothering to deny it?”

“There was nothing in our agreement about kissing you,” he pointed out.

“About
not
kissing me.”

“Nothing about that either.”

“Because I never thought it would be a problem,” she said.

“It wasn’t a problem. I liked it,” he said.

“Liked it?” Talk about damning with faint praise. Here she thought the earth moved and he says he “liked” it?

“Didn’t you?” he said.

“No,” she said. A huge lie. So sue her.

“It certainly seemed as if you were really into that kiss,” he said.

“You’re mistaken.”

“Am I?” he said.

“Yes, you are. Definitely mistaken. As in terribly wrong. Big-time.”

“Prove it.” He snared her in his arms and kissed her again.

This time she was a little more prepared. Not much but a little. Her response remained anything but little, however.

Parting her lips, she allowed his tongue in to tangle with hers in a sexy thrust and withdrawal that once again made her want more. He had a talented tongue. Extremely talented. A touch to the roof of her mouth was followed by a teasing swipe across her teeth.

Kissing him was better than any sex scene she’d ever written. And that was saying something. Because she’d written some pretty damn good sex scenes. And this was just a kiss.

Just
a kiss? Right. Who was she kidding? Not him for sure as he kept devouring her and she kept letting him. No, not merely
letting
him but returning the favor.

She had to stop this. He was trying to distract her again. And dammit, he was succeeding.

She freed herself and pointed a finger at him. “Stay there! Do not come any closer.”

“Or what?” he mocked her.

“Or I will tear up our temporary agreement and kick you to the curb.”

He tilted his head and eyed her the way a tiger eyed fresh meat. “You’re cute when you’re—”

“Don’t you dare tell me I’m cute when I’m mad,” she said fiercely. She marched over to the far wall, examining it carefully for any sign of something that might be a trigger to the secret entrance to the tunnel.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“None of your business. Now go away.”

“And leave you all alone down here in this dark basement?”

“I’ve got a flashlight.”

“Who knows what’s down here?” Ronan said. “Snakes? Spiders? Rats?”

“You’re the rat,” she muttered under her breath.

“Seriously. You do not want to be down here.”

“Seriously. The more you tell me that, the more determined I am to be down here. Your lease only covers the second floor, not the basement. So leave.”

“I’ve got stuff stored down here.”

“Where?” She aimed the flashlight around. “I don’t see anything.” A second later, she truly couldn’t see anything as the flashlight went dead. She sensed a dark presence. Or maybe she was just sensing the enveloping darkness, period.

There was enough light coming down from the still open door at the top of the stairs to light the way back out. Sierra wanted to accuse Ronan of sabotaging her flashlight, but chances were that a ghost was responsible.

She really couldn’t waste more time on this. Giving up for now didn’t mean giving in. She’d come back later, when Ronan was out of the house and wouldn’t bother her.

An hour later, Sierra was sitting in front of her laptop, trying to write. She was behind on her daily quota of pages required to meet her deadline. She had to create five pages today, or what was left of today, to get back on track.

She’d never considered the possibility that moving into this house would be a distraction. Instead she’d thought it would be a great inspiration. The house was old enough to have been here during the Prohibition period that the ghost in her story lived through. The fact that two
real
ghosts, as opposed to fictional ones, were sharing the house with her was a distraction. The fact that one of them had trashed her room was definitely a problem.

But the main issue was Naked Ronan. Okay, she really needed to stop thinking of him that way, of visualizing him that way. That shouldn’t be as difficult as it was. She for sure should not be sitting in front of her laptop thinking about him instead of her characters.

She’d put on her headphones as a tool to increase her concentration. She created a playlist for each book, sometimes for individual scenes. She was about to write a sex scene between her heroine Nicki Champion and the Chicago detective who was giving her a hard time. She was listening to Imagine Dragons’ latest, which usually inspired her to get her thoughts in order and her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Instead all she could think about was her reaction to falling into Ronan’s arms and their resulting kiss. The song “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons should have been a warning that Ronan was radioactive to her. The man was a rival trying to steal her inheritance from her. Instead he’d stolen her breath and her common sense.

There was no way she was justified in returning his kiss. Of course, there was no way that he was justified in kissing her in the first place. Still, it was her job to remain the calm one. Instead she’d turned into a hot mess complete with weak knees and a racing heart.

At least she could brag that she’d come to her senses and pushed him away to end the kiss. She was glad she’d been the one to walk away.

Damn. There she went again, thinking about Ronan instead of Nicki.

No way Nicki, the heroine of her book, would be sitting here mooning over a guy. Instead she was rolling in black satin sheets with a hot cop. A naked hot cop. Right. There was the naked thing again, which led Sierra’s thoughts right back to Ronan.