Seduced by the Night (3 page)

When the elevator stopped, they followed the detective down the hallway past several closed doors until they reached one standing open. This time, when Dirk stepped into the room, the blood scent was not as easy to detect— first, because there wasn't as much, and second, because the smell of chemical reagents filled the air, masking the odor. Nevertheless, he moved past the lab tables to the very back of the room, Mac close by his side.

"There." Dirk pointed at the bloodstains on the floor and the top of the counter. The small droplets were more in keeping with a cut from broken glass than from a mortal wound.

Dirk did a slow visual inspection of the destruction inside the lab. "Sloppy," he commented softly, for Mac's ears only, not referring to the debris but rather the method of attack.

"Definitely wasn't Harris or Patterson," Mac agreed. "They would have been in and out a lot cleaner than this."

"Agreed, but they must be involved. The lesser vamps  couldn't have planned this by themselves." Dirk moved about the room, studying the broken glassware and equipment. "Be nice to know what type of research was being done here."

"Mac? Dirk?"
Lanie
called to them from the front of the lab and the two men went to join her. She stood slightly behind the admiral and
John
, who were talking to a distinguished-looking man in a business suit. He appeared to be older, about the admiral's age. The woman standing beside him wore a white lab coat but Dirk couldn't see her face with the detective's body blocking his view.

At a break in the conversation, the admiral motioned the two men forward. "Mac Knight and Dirk Adams, this is Miles Van Home and his
fiancee
, Bethany
Stavinoski
."

"Mr. Van Home; Ms.
Stavinoski
." Mac shook hands with both of them and then moved to one side so Dirk could step forward.

Dirk held out his hand to the man first and thought Van Home's stance reeked with a confidence born of having an excess of money. Old childhood resentments stirred and he had to resist the almost uncontrollable urge to squeeze the man's hand just a little harder than necessary when they shook. Next, he turned to meet the
fiancee
and felt the impact of recognition hit him as their hands touched and a jolt of awareness shot through him.

Bethany
stared at the man before her and the rest of the room faded. She was almost positive that she'd seen him before and tried hard to remember where. Almost as if he knew she was trying to guess, he smiled—a slight lifting of his lips—and in her mind, she was suddenly back on the darkened street, staring at that same smile.

He wore the same black duster, dark, collarless shirt, black jeans, and boots. With piercing blue eyes and sandy blond hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in a while, there was a James Dean wildness to his appearance.

"
Bethany
?"
Miles's
voice cut into her thoughts and she turned to him guiltily.

"I'm sorry?" She was horrified to realize that, for a moment, she'd forgotten that he was there.

"Admiral Winslow asked if you knew why anyone might wish to harm Stuart?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't. As I told Detective
Boehler
, Stuart and I weren't that close. He didn't confide in me."

The admiral nodded and turned to discuss something with the detective, allowing her a chance to study him. He was about the same age as Miles, putting him in his mid-to-late fifties. His gray hair, combed straight back, and darker-colored, neatly trimmed beard and
mustache
gave him a Sean Connery appearance. She couldn't hear what he was saying to the detective, but soon lost interest in trying to listen when the feeling of being watched distracted her.

"What type of work were you doing here?" Dirk asked her, his voice filled with a natural male assurance that caused her to focus more on the man than the question.

"I was trying to produce a synthetic duplicate of a plant extract." His intense scrutiny unnerved her and she had to work to focus her thoughts. "I'm told it's a plant found only in the thickest part of the Amazon jungle. One of the local tribes uses it for medicinal purposes with miraculous results. Van Home Technologies was hired to see if it's possible to duplicate it"

"Who hired you?" Dirk asked Miles in a tone that indicated he expected an answer. Bethany tried not to show her own interest in hearing the response to a question that she, herself, had asked Miles countless times.

"I'm afraid that information is confidential—for now," Miles replied. It was the same line he'd given her each time she'd asked. Frustrated, she looked away and found
Lanie
giving her an interested look.

"How long have you been working on this project?" Dirk asked.

"About a month,"
Bethany
replied, turning back to look at him. She was struck again by the intensity of his gaze.

"Does it usually take that long to duplicate something?" he asked.

It does when I intentionally drag my feet
. "This extract is not like anything I've come across before," she offered by way of explanation, hoping that none of them knew enough about biochemistry to challenge her statement.

There was a pause in conversation and
Bethany
watched as the group exchanged meaningful looks with one another. She didn't have to wait long to find out what it meant.

"Here's the situation," the admiral began, sounding like he was about to deliver bad news. "Based on the method by which the guard was murdered, we believe a small underground terrorist faction is responsible. Until we can determine that their interest in Mr. Meyers is personal and not related to the project he and Ms.
Stavinoski
were working on, we have to assume that Ms.
Stavinoski
is also in danger."

"No, you must be mistaken," Miles insisted. "Stuart is behind this. I'm sure of it."

"Ms.
Stavinoski's
assistant didn't kill the guard," Dirk replied. "More likely, he's been taken by the group that did. If so, the odds of seeing him alive again are remote."

Bethany
felt a shiver run down her spine at his words. She was horrified to think that Stuart might have been kidnapped by the guard's murderers, might even now be dead. Worse still, it had never occurred to her that her own life might be in jeopardy. She folded her arms in front of her, feeling suddenly unsure and exposed.

"No." Miles shook his head as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, drawing her attention to him. "Given the type of person Stuart Meyers is, I feel confident that his abduction is personal. Frank died because he got in the way. That's all."

"Are you willing to bet your
fiancee's
life on that?" Dirk pinned Miles with a cold, hard look.

Bethany
saw the muscles of
Miles's
cheek work as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, trying to control his anger. He had opened his mouth to respond when the detective cut him off.

"Mr. Van Home, with all due respect, I'm afraid that in this instance, I have to agree with Admiral Winslow. This is not the first time I've come across this particular terrorist group, we call them the
Exsanguinators
, and if there's the slightest possibility that Ms.
Stavinoski's
life is in danger, she'll need protection." He paused and proceeded hesitantly. "I think it would be best if I placed her in protective custody. It's the only way to ensure her safety."

The suggestion stunned
Bethany
. She had no idea if the detective could actually do that, but she didn't like the sound of it. She opened her mouth to voice her objection when she was cut short.

 "There is another option." Dirk's voice was cool steel slicing through a thick silence. "Hire a bodyguard."

"It can't be just anyone," Mac Knight pointed out, joining the discussion. "It has to be someone who understands the unique nature of this particular threat. It'd have to be one of us."

Dirk stared at
Bethany
, making her uneasy. "I'll do it."

His announcement caught her off guard and she studied the unreadable expression on his face, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

"That won't be necessary."
Miles's
tone was chilly. "If
Bethany
needs protection, I'll make the necessary arrangements for a bodyguard." His tone brooked no argument.

The expression on Dirk's face darkened, but it was the admiral who spoke. "In that case, we should be on our way. It was very nice meeting you both." He shook hands with each of them. "If there's anything we can do to help, please don't hesitate to contact us.
John
," he said, turning to the detective, "may I have a word?"

As the two walked out of the lab,
Bethany
shot Miles a questioning look that he ignored. Instead, he turned his attention to Mac and
Lanie
, who were waiting to shake hands and say their farewells. The woman,
Lanie
, gave her a sympathetic smile as she shook
Bethany
's hand.

"It was very nice meeting you," she said. "And congratulations on winning the Rod O'Connor Award. That's quite an achievement and well deserved, I'm sure."
Bethany
's surprise must have shown on her face because the other woman smiled and shrugged. "I read it in the paper."

"T
hank
you."
Bethany
wouldn't have thought anyone outside the field would have noticed the article, much less read it. It wasn't what most considered exciting news.

"She was in the paper?" Dirk's voice dragged her from her musings as he looked first at her and then at
Lanie
. It was the latter who answered.

"Yes. I think it was a week ago, wasn't it?" She glanced at Bethany who could only nod in the face of Dirk's clear interest.

"What was the award for?" Mac asked in such a way that
Bethany
thought he sounded nearly as intimidating as Dirk.

"The award was for biochemical excellence," Miles announced proudly, draping an arm around
Bethany
's shoulders and briefly pulling her close. "
Bethany
is one of the leading researchers in her field." She blushed at
Miles's
praise and show of affection, trying not to let the condemnation that flashed across Dirk's eyes bother her. She'd seen it time and again since she and Miles first started dating, from people who thought she was a young gold digger after a rich man's money—or that Miles was an old lecher robbing the cradle in hopes of reclaiming his youth.

"It's time to go," Dirk announced suddenly. Everyone said their good-byes and as Mac and
Lanie
went to join the admiral and Detective
Boehler
,
Bethany
found herself waiting breathlessly for a second touch of Dirk's hand against hers, wondering if it would cause the same spark of awareness to shoot through her as it had the first time. Unfortunately, she wasn't given a chance to find out.

"Mr. Van Home. Ms.
Stavinoski
." Dirk nodded his head once in farewell and then strode from the room, leaving  her to feel irrationally disappointed and more than a little baffled at his abruptness.

"Are you all right?"

Miles's
question caught her off guard and it took a second to realize that he was referring to the break-in and murder, not Dirk's behavior. She nodded slowly.

Glancing around to make sure she and Miles were alone in the lab, she gave him a hard shove. "Do you think that maybe
now
you can tell me more about where you got the extract?"

Though there was no obvious change in his expression, suddenly her warm
fiance
was replaced by the cool, efficient businessman. "Not tonight,
Bethany
. It's almost morning and neither of us has had any sleep. Let's go back to my place. You can relax in a nice hot bath while I make arrangements for the bodyguard and then—"

"—we'll talk?"

"We'll go to bed."

His suggestion distracted her from the topic at hand. "Miles, I… um… I'm pretty tired. I don't know if I feel like… you know."

Smiling down at her, he was the warm
fiance
once more. "I only meant that we should sleep, my dear—but at my place. I don't think it's a good idea for you to return to your apartment tonight."

So much relief swept through her that she felt guilty. Miles had practically been her best friend—her only friend—for the last couple of years. In many respects, he was more her family than her parents and siblings. She didn't think there was anything wrong with marrying her best friend, but wasn't she supposed to
want
to "sleep" with the man she'd promised to marry? She shoved the thought aside, telling herself that with all that had happened tonight, it was only natural to feel uncomfortable with… everything.

"I don't have any clothes at your place," she objected in a feeble attempt to justify going back to her apartment.