Relentless Seduction (12 page)

He grabbed up the box cutter and began unpacking bottles. He’d be damned before he let anything else be taken from him.

12

T
HE
TOMB
WAS
COLD
.
This might be the Deep South, but it was still February. The sunny morning had clouded over and Claire heard thunder rumbling in the distance. The walls were clammy and the air was getting chillier by the hour.

According to her cell, it was almost eleven. Claire had been pounding on the door and shouting for close to two hours. Her throat was raw, her voice was almost gone and her hands were sore. With her back to the door, she slid down the door, and dropped her forehead to her knees. At least she had her poncho with her.

As if to torment her, she thought she heard someone talking far in the distance. She stopped breathing, held very still and cocked her head. There was the rustle of leaves in the biting wind. The roar of traffic across town. But no human voices.

How cruel. Was she losing her sanity or had someone’s voice simply carried farther on the wind? She dropped her head again.

Then raised it. There it was again. A woman’s voice. A little closer now. Saying something about the eighteenth century. The woman’s words grew more distinct, louder now. She was describing the difference between a box tomb and a ledger stone. A tour guide? A cemetery tour!

Claire scrambled up and pounded on the door. “Hello? Help me!” she screamed. “Hello, can anyone hear me?” She repeated the words, and then listened. The woman’s voice was gone.

But a different voice floated through the hole in the crumbling bricks. “Hello?” It sounded like an adolescent, with enough of a touch of huskiness to be a boy.

She darted from the door to the wall and jumped and shouted as her mouth got close to the opening. “Help.” Another jump. “Hello.” Another jump. “Help me.” Her voice was going. She rubbed her throat and waited.

The young teen shouted to a friend. “Hey, man, I heard something in that grave.”

A second male teen voice said, “Yeah, sure. You think I’m gonna fall for that old trick?”

“No!” She jumped and yelled but no sound came out. She tried again. “It’s not a trick. I’m trapped inside! Please!” Her voice gave out on the last word and it sounded more like a croak. She waited and listened.

The second teen scoffed, “The tour guide is leaving us behind. There ain’t no one in there.”

“I swear, I thought I heard something.”

Their voices faded into the distance.

Her shoulders drooped. Why hadn’t she thought of a tour group coming? Then she could’ve saved her voice. But if there was one tour group, surely there’d be another coming by in an hour or so. And she needed to get her voice back for when they did. She needed water. Or the closest thing to.

Of course!

She dug in her purse, certain she had at least a breath mint or a piece of gum.

Jackpot! A granola bar! And a small bottle of water from the airplane, half full. And gum. And mints. She smiled, feeling as if she’d stumbled upon Aladdin’s cave with all its treasures.

She sat and ate the granola bar and sipped at the water, reserving it to make it last longer, just in case. Then chewed a piece of gum, willing her voice to heal.

She finally checked her cell phone for the time and realized it was already past noon. If the tours didn’t run every hour, hopefully they ran every two hours. What else was in her purse that she could use?

She sat in the small spot where the sunlight shone, rummaging around in her tote. Notepad and pen! Of course! She wrote
Trapped in tomb, Please help!
on a piece of notepaper and tried to slip the paper through the thin crack in the door. But it wouldn’t go no matter how she wiggled. Great. The wall was falling to pieces, but the door was airtight.

She tried jumping and tossing the note through the hole in the crumbled-out bricks, but unless she crumpled up the paper into a ball it only fluttered back down inside.

Hopefully the next tour would come by soon.

Giving up for the moment, she found a small rock and drew in the sandy dust, playing with a mathematical formula that had stumped her since college. Sometimes she’d try to solve it when she was waiting on test results in her lab.

After another hour had passed and she still heard no sounds of a tour, panic threatened, but she pushed it away. Positive thoughts would serve her best in this situation.

After another hour, emotions began to rear their ugly head, and then she heard it. Barely audible, a woman’s voice, the same woman, Claire thought, talking about the same stones in the cemetery. As the voice grew slightly louder, Claire jumped to her feet and banged and banged on the door with the flat of her hands and called out for help.

Then she darted to the opening in the crumbled brick and jumped again, waiting until her voice was exactly at the opening when she shouted. She jumped and shouted and jumped and shouted, repeating it until she couldn’t hear the woman’s voice anymore.

As she jumped the last time her foot landed half on a pile of crumbled brick and her left ankle turned. She fell hard onto her side, catching herself on her elbow and wrist.

Claire didn’t move as she strained to hear an answer.

But no one responded. This group didn’t seem to have straying teens, or straying anyone.

“No!” As she tried to scramble to her feet, her ankle throbbed in sharp agony. She half crawled, half pulled herself along the chalky floor until she reached the door. Panicked, she pounded on the door until her muscles ached.

Her teeth chattered and her body shook. She examined her ankle, testing its movement. Judging from the way it felt, she was fairly certain it wasn’t broken, just a bad sprain. But there was no way she could put her weight on it.

She let out a breath she’d been holding tightly along with every hope and positive thought she had left within her.

What if she really was trapped in here for days? Or even longer? What if no one ever found her? An infuriating sob escaped. She hated this place! Oh, why did Julia have to choose this crazy city in which to disappear and join a cult? Maybe she should’ve just left Julia here and gone home!

But this city, with its lush history and vibrant colors, its pulsing energy and unique flavors that filled the very air one breathed, this city worked a magic, a kind of voodoo on her that pulled her in and tempted her to bare her soul and believe she was someone more than she thought she ever could be. And she wasn’t sure she could ever go back to being the old Claire. New Orleans had made her believe in the ghost of possibilities and in a vampire bar owner who could whisk her away to a fantasy world of passion and romance.

This city had robbed her of rational judgment.

She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes.
You are Claire Brooks of Springfield, Missouri. Scientist. Pragmatist. Realist.

Logic and common sense had always been her allies.
Think, Claire.

But she couldn’t concentrate.

She sat up, grabbed a half broken brick and pitched it with all her might at the other side of the tomb.

Screw rationale. Screw logic and staying calm. She wanted to scream and cry and bash something. She’d never lost her temper and had a tantrum before. Not in all her twenty-nine years. She swore as soon as she got out of this place she was going to. She closed her eyes and fantasized about smacking Rowena, and Armand, and even Julia for getting her into this.

And what else in life had she been missing by always being the rational one? Passion. Romance. A true fling. Not just a couple of guilt-laden nights.

So, when she was done with her tantrum, she’d see what she could do about having a torrid affair. But there was no one back in Boston she could even remotely imagine having steamy, uninhibited sex with. In fact...the only man she wanted was Rafe.

But she’d burned that bridge with her behavior this morning. Oh, how she wished she’d appreciated what she had when she had it. She closed her eyes and relived every moment she’d had with Rafe Moreau.

* * *

W
HEN
R
AFE
HEARD
THE
dead bolt unlock and the door open and close, he checked his watch. Four o’clock. “Ro?” he called out, assuming she was here for her shift.

“Yeah?” Ro poked her head in his office door, her gaze darting around as if she were looking for something. “Is...everything okay?”

She must be exhausted after working back-to-back twelve-hour shifts. “Everything’s caught up. I’m not going anywhere, so if you want to take some time off, I can handle things tonight.”

“Time off isn’t what I need.” Ro stepped into the doorway and leaned her shoulder blades against the frame, raising one foot behind her. One high-heeled foot. She wore a black mini-dress that plunged so deep in the front she couldn’t have a bra on. Not that she needed one, she was fairly small-breasted. But she also wore black leather high-heeled boots that came up to her mid-thigh.

“You seeing someone after work?” He shouldn’t ask about her personal life. He didn’t appreciate when she pried into his. They’d had a thing a few years ago when he’d first hired her on as assistant manager. It had lasted a week or so and then every once in a while one of them would need an itch scratched. It’d never been more than that for either of them, and it hadn’t happened in a long while. But this look was different for her. She’d removed most of the rings from her lip and brow. It made her look softer.

“If I was seeing someone else, would you be jealous?”

Rafe frowned. What the heck was she talking about? “Uh...”

She pushed off the door frame, closed the distance between them and bent to trap him in his chair. “We got a quick half hour before Bulldog gets here.” She licked her lips and moved her hands to unbutton his jeans.

He gripped her wrists and lifted her hands away. He looked into her hazel eyes and knew he’d never sleep with her again. It just wasn’t right anymore. But how did he say this? He sighed. “It’s not going to work anymore, Ro.”

Her face hardened and her lips twisted. “I was only feeling sorry for you, anyway.” She pushed away and headed for the door. “I got things to do.” She sauntered off.

He almost went after her but his cell buzzed. “Moreau.”

“Good afternoon, this is Les Chambres Royale Hotel calling for Ms. Claire Brooks, please.”

Rafe’s heart stuttered. “Ms. Brooks left town this morning.”

“Oh dear, we were under the impression she was going to retrieve her luggage from us before leaving. Could you please let her know we can have them shipped to her if that would work best?”

“Are you telling me she never picked up her luggage?”

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir, she has not claimed them.”

“Did you try her cell phone?”

“Yes, sir. There was no answer. The manager said she left Once Bitten as her forwarding address.”

Damn it. She might not be picking up her cell because she was on the plane, or maybe her battery died. But why would she leave town without getting her bags? Every instinct screamed that she wouldn’t. Rafe ground his teeth, remembering the way she’d acted this morning. The way she had refused to even meet his gaze. And wouldn’t wait to let him give her a ride to the airport.

Because she wasn’t going to the airport! Because she hadn’t left town. Damn it. She’d gone out to that asylum on her own to rescue Julia. Eight hours ago.

If she’d been successful, wouldn’t she have gotten her luggage before heading to the airport? And if she wasn’t answering her cell, it might be because Armand had taken it from her and was holding her hostage. Or worse.

He shot out of his chair, climbed the stairs to his apartment two at a time, retrieved his jacket and his gun and was halfway down the outside stairs before he remembered Ro.

He cursed under his breath and headed back into the bar.

“Ro, something’s come up again.” He stuck his gun in his jeans at the small of his back and shoved his arms through his jacket sleeves. “You’ll be all right here?”

Ro looked up from sweeping up the glass he’d broken earlier. He allowed a twinge of guilt. But he’d make it up to her. Give her a bonus or a raise. Whatever.

“Where are you going now? I thought she’d finally left you alone.”

Rafe squinted at her. She sounded pissed. More. She sounded possessive. “She’s gone back to help her friend. I have to make sure she doesn’t get herself hurt.”

“Why?”

Ro dropped the broom, closed the distance between them and flattened her palms on his chest. “Let her get hurt if she’s too stupid to know better. Why do you care?” She ran her hands over his shoulders and curled her hands around the back of his neck.

Rafe grabbed her hands and jerked them down to her sides. “Ro. She’s been gone since eight this morning. She could already be hurt badly. Or being held against her will. That crazy vamp Armand said there was a special ceremony tonight to drink her friend’s blood. What if they decide drinking a thimbleful isn’t enough? Those Colony people aren’t all playing with a full deck.”

“Exactly. They could hurt you, too. Don’t go, Rafe.” Tears shone in Ro’s eyes. “I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you.”

Whoa. Where had all this come from? “Look. If it will make you feel better, call the police and have them meet me at the old Delacroix asylum.” He squeezed her hands. “I have to go.” He turned to head for the door, but she latched onto his jacket.

“Wait!”

“Rowena, what the hell?” He circled her wrists and pulled her hands away.

She stared at him with glittering eyes full of anguish.

Did he even want to hear this?

Her face crumpled and she swung around to face away. “She’s not there.”

Rafe blinked. His vision blurred and the air around him seemed to evaporate. He seized Ro’s shoulders and jerked her around to face him. “What are saying? How do you know?” Terror seized his chest. He shook her hard. “Ro, what did you do?”

Ro hung her head, her mascara running black streaks down her cheeks. “It’s always been you and me against them,” she whined. When she lifted her gaze her eyes were alight with a kind of crazy he’d never seen in them before. “I know those college sluts don’t mean anything to you. And when you slept with her the first time, I figured it was just another fling. But when you left me alone again last night to go up to
her
in your apartment, I knew then that she had her claws in you and she wasn’t going away. She’s got you under some sort of spell, Rafe, don’t you see that?”