SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (215 page)

Taylor braided Audrey’s long golden hair, securing it at the back of her head with a pale pink ribbon. She gave her a playful push, saying, “Go, silly. Ida should be in the kitchen. I’ll tell Lizabeth to meet you down there.”

Audrey slipped back into her dress, then gave Taylor a quick hug before she dashed out the door and down the back stairs.

“Lizabeth?” Taylor met the girl halfway down the hall, and quickly described Audrey’s plans, and she ran down the stairs two at a time to join her friend.

The joy in seeing Audrey and Lizabeth’s newborn happiness served to offset some of the devastating ache of her own heart. She would hold onto her own improved mood, get dressed and cut fresh flowers for the house.

Dressed in a clean pair of cotton trousers and tunic, Taylor walked through the kitchen and out the back door. She could hear the enthusiastic voices of the girls, and definite sounds of encouragement from Ida. It sounded successful. It sounded right.

In that instant, she had no doubts it had been the right thing.

She scanned the garden, then walked to the shed and removed some garden pruners. The roses needed some obvious attention, and she began filling a basket with fragrant blooms.

As the voices inside the house faded, she had a strange feeling that her simple intervention had dramatically changed Audrey and Lizabeth’s young lives. Perhaps Audrey and Corey would fall in love, she thought. A perfectly happing ending.

And Lizabeth did have the knowledge to actually be a photographer, so why not? She was delighted for them both. They each deserved happiness and success.

Taylor sat on the grass beside one of the largest rose bushes in the garden. Each bloom was the deep red color of blood.

“I’m listening, child.”

Taylor inhaled sharply, her thoughts returning to the scene on the beach.
What about me, Dad? I don’t know what to do—what if I do the wrong thing again?

“It’ll be fine. You’re supposed to be here.”

She sighed and shook her head in frustration. She wasn’t getting much from her father, but at least he confirmed that some sort of path existed—and the possibility of a solution.

Dad?
Though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, Taylor was too tempted to pass up the opportunity to explore the unknown.
Dad, were you...was that really mom at the séance?

“Yes.”

But, how could it be? In the light of day, her instincts told her it had to be a combination of wishful thinking and the eerie atmosphere

“It’s hard to explain—all our spirits blend. Yours, mine, your mother’s. We belong together. That’s why you can hear me.”

But why was I the one chosen to be here?

“Because you believe, Taylor Rose.”

Once again Taylor became acutely aware of the instant her father’s spirit vanished. She shuddered at the contrast. Even with only his voice in her mind, she felt safe. Now she felt alone, and weakened by the emotional day that was finally ending. Craving even just the thought of peaceful slumber, she carried the basket of flowers into the kitchen.

Wordlessly, Taylor handed the blooms to Ida and declared her intentions to get a good night’s sleep. She had some investigating to do tomorrow, and she’d need her wits about her. Time was running out, and she felt the seeds of courage and determination beginning.

“Rose, wait...” Ida put the basket of flowers on the table, then reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope.

“What is it?’

“This just came for you by messenger.”

Taylor searched Ida’s face, hoping to see more than the question in her eyes. With slightly trembling fingers, she managed to break the wax seal, open the envelope, and pull out the folded linen paper…but couldn’t quite sum up the courage to unfold it.

Forever Rose: Chapter Twenty

A hot tear rolled down her cheek.

“What does he mean, Rose? Ida asked. “What did he say to you at the beach? Did he threaten you?”

Taylor swallowed the despair in her throat, determined to regain her composure. She didn’t want Ida to be frightened, nor did she feel ready to reveal the letter’s implication. She felt the very real sting of Jackson’s resolve within the few, carefully chosen words.

“Rose, answer me...”

“Ida, it’s okay. He said lots of things at the beach. Some good, some not so good. We’ll work it out.” Taylor smiled at her. She felt a strange numbed comfort in knowing that perhaps it was for the best. Without the distraction of her passionate feelings for Jackson, perhaps the search for solutions would be more manageable.

“I still don’t like the feel of this,” Ida grumbled. “You would tell me if you were in trouble, wouldn’t you? You know I’d do anything in my power to keep you safe, Rose. Believe that.”

Taylor stood and put her arms around Ida. “Yes, Ida. I do believe that. And you must believe that I’ll ask for any help that I need.” And, she would.

“Let’s have a cup of tea, then. I think chamomile would be best to soothe and calm us for the rest of the night. I’ll just have to trust that good head on your shoulders, Rose.”

Taylor nodded. She stared at the words that still caused her to shudder. Carefully, she folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket.

Out of sight, out of mind.

* * *

Jackson waited anxiously in the Reading Room of the Acme Saloon for Will and Dean McLaurey. The moment he’d gotten back into town from the beach, Jackson had made his way to the City of Paris store where Charlie had handed him the package he had hoped was waiting for him. Right afterward, outside in the shadows of the dark alley, Jackson had peeked into the bundle to see the small revolver that would fit neatly into his vest pocket. And the note inside had told him to meet the McLaureys that night at the Acme Saloon to finalize their plans.

Jackson shook his head in disbelief. How could Rose know? He had sent the messenger with his carefully worded note to her, praying she would heed its meaning. Otherwise...well, he preferred not to think in that direction. He just knew that he couldn’t...
wouldn’t
let her interfere.

The heavy stomp of boots interrupted his thoughts as Dean and Will entered the room carrying a bottle of whiskey and three shot glasses.

* * *

Will stared at Jackson, sniffing the air like a wolf suspicious of another predator nearby.

“Well now, Dean, it sure looks like our boy got the message—don’t it? On time, and lookin’ pretty darn serious, don’t you think?”

Will slammed the bottle down hard on the table in front of Jackson and watched him flinch.

Dean set down the three shot glasses next to the bottle, sat next to Jackson, licked his lips and smiled. “Looks like we won’t have to wait much longer. I can’t wait to get my hands on some o’ that money—”

“You got everything under control, Jackson?” Will interrupted Dean’s overeager reference to Pete Spence’s reward money.
That’s all we need, this kid’ll want some of that money for sure
. It had been a stroke of luck finding Jackson right after they’d heard Pete was offering a pretty hefty reward for Earp’s life to be snuffed out. He glared a warning to his mouthy brother, hoping his message was clear. Dean looked down at the table, hiding his eyes from the scowl of his older brother.

“Everything’s fine. Let’s just get on with it. The sooner, the better.” Jackson’s eyes narrowed.

“Let’s have a drink on it, then.” Will splashed the amber colored liquor into the glasses on the table. His skin still prickled with apprehension. Jackson seemed to be in an awful hurry. Or maybe he was thinking about changing his mind. Either way, he just didn’t quite trust him—he had too much emotion attached to the whole thing. Maybe he was more trouble than he was worth.

Jackson picked up the shot glass of whiskey and held it out to Will and Dean. “To success,” he offered.

Then Will observed the subtle change in Jackson’s eyes. Now they looked cold, without feeling.
That’s more like it
. He smiled, relaxing at the sign that perhaps his doubts were unfounded. He tossed back the shot, watching the others do the same, relishing the sudden burn in his throat, then he quickly refilled the glasses.

“The sooner the better, huh? Well then, this Saturday night’ll be that bastard’s last night on God’s earth.” Will raised his glass.

Dean clinked the bottom edge of his glass against Will’s. “To Saturday night,” he echoed.

Jackson nodded curtly. He drank his second shot of whiskey in a quick gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Both Will and Dean drank another quick shot, enjoying the excuse to finish off the bottle as quickly as possible. They both continued with more crude toasts, each one addressing their shared mission of killing the notorious Wyatt Earp. They attempted to refill Jackson’s glass with each round, but he refused.

“I have to go,” Jackson finally said.

“Jackson...Jackson...stay and drink with us. Where are you off to when we’re right here with a half-full bottle?” A noisy belch escaped from Will, punctuating his question, his words slurring.

* * *

Jackson waved off their protests, shaking his head as he pushed his chair back from the table. Watching Dean and Will get drunk was more than he could handle. He hated the fact that he needed them. Whenever they were around, the hairs on the back of his neck would rise in response. But, he admitted, having them as part of the conspiracy had at least prevented him from having to be a lone assassin, something he was pretty sure he hadn’t the stomach for. With them, he acknowledged, at least the plan was plausible.

Jackson finally stood, quickly making his way out of The Reading Room into the main part of the saloon. The noise level in the smoky room was high enough to at least partially distract him from his own thoughts. Saturday night couldn’t come soon enough, but after ten years, a few days should be tolerable. He’d just keep busy.

And stay away from Rose.

The trouble was, he couldn’t stop thinking about her—and his body craved her like crazy.

As he pushed his way through the rank crowd of drifters and sailors, Jackson felt his stomach sour and threaten to eject the cheap whiskey he’d forced himself to drink. He’d hoped to learn more about what Dean had alluded to…having no idea about whatever money he seemed to think was coming. It made no sense, no sense at all. Hungry for fresh air and eager to put some distance between himself and the saloon, he roughly shouldered his way to the door and out into the night.

Jackson gulped the cool air like water, hoping it would clear his head and relieve his nausea. Instead, an acrid taste filled his mouth. Ducking to the alley, he violently lost the contents of his stomach. “Damn cheap whiskey,” he cursed, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. At least he’d feel better with an empty stomach.

Church bells reminded Jackson that he would be late for work if he didn’t hurry. Taking a deep breath, he left the alley to return to the street and walked briskly away from the Acme Saloon, leaving Will and Dean McLaurey behind.

* * *

“So, wha’ d’ya think, Will?”

“I think you’re a stupid idiot, for one thing, Dean.” Will cuffed his younger brother’s ear with a sharp slap.

“Owwwww...wha’ d’ya do that for?” Dean rubbed his ear, cowering in his chair as though trying to create a smaller target.

“Wha’ d’ya mention the reward money for, huh? Jeez, you almost ruined the whole thing with your big mouth. I’m warnin’ ya...any more mistakes and yer outta this plan. I don’t need yer stupid mouth shootin’ off in front of that fool Jackson. I could send ya right back to Arizona, quick as that.” Will clumsily snapped his big, thick fingers.

“Aw, Will, I didn’t mean to say nothin’. C’mon, don’t get all mad. I’ll be careful, you’ll see.” Dean’s lower lip trembled.

Drunk and barely eighteen, Will knew Dean was more boy than man at that moment. “Quit yer whimperin’. Just work at keepin’ your trap shut, okay? All we have to do now is get some horses to have waitin’ for us outside the saloon Saturday night, and count the days ‘til Pete Spence pays us for the job. It’s gonna be easy—if you can keep your damn trap shut, that is.” Will glared at Dean. He hoped his little brother wouldn’t prove to be a handicap he couldn’t offset.

Dean grinned at Will, his eyes glazed with alcoholic good humor. “Whatcha gonna do with yer money, Will?  I’m sure gonna have me a good time…”

Will returned his grin with a menacing half-smile. “Well, little brother, I’m sure I’ll come up with somethin’.”

Forever Rose: Chapter Twenty-One

. . . Jackson watched through half-closed eyes as the satiny red robe slipped slowly off Rose’s shoulders, baring them seductively. She moistened her lips with her tongue and he found himself mesmerized by the simple act. His eyes focused on the pink tip of her tongue, watching it glide along her lips in slow motion. All he could think about was the feel of her full lips on his own. He longed to taste her again.

As she took a step closer to the bathtub, where he was submerged to his neck in steaming water, she let the robe fall away in one smooth movement. She lifted her arms, then ran both hands through her slicked back mahogany brown hair. Again he was mesmerized by her simple actions. In the light of the dozen candles that surrounded the porcelain tub, her hair glowed with fiery highlights and her skin looked like fresh cream, liquid and silky.

His gaze caressed her from head to toe. For a long time he lingered deliciously at her breasts, each pink nipple rosy-peaked. Slowly, he dropped his gaze to the dark triangle of wispy curls that seemingly called out to his own body, which painfully throbbed with desire.

He tried to speak. He struggled, forcing his lips to form the words that he longed to say. But as hard as he tried, no sound came from his mouth. She reached out to him, her face now frozen with worry. Silent words formed on her lips and he squinted his eyes, trying to understand what she was telling him. He sat up in the tub, his own arms reaching to her.