So Tempting (21 page)

"You are safe...stay with me...help me..." He forged ahead, a being made of starlight, his steps gliding along the yellow ribbon.

She felt...joy. Encompassing, overwhelming...after a moment, she relaxed, and the music swelled. She lost herself in the beauty of it, a song both poignant and ethereal, promising life and hope and comfort—

Something wrapped around her ankle.

Sent a chill through her blood.

She looked down, and a tentacle slithered, murky and cold, dragging her down—

She let go and began spinning violently. She was cold and terrified. "Dante!" she called, but around her was only darkness and ominous silence that exhaled menace and hate and—

"Justine!"

She plunged in a nauseating spiral, screaming and gasping.

He swooped in, grasped her. Gathered her in. "You're safe," he murmured. "I have you."

Memories of those words...of The Club...of him surrounding her, baring her...

"Stop," she sobbed. "What are you doing to me?"

"I am sorry." He brushed her hair back from her face, dried her tears. Touched her lips with one finger, his own eyes full of pain and sorrow. "I would release you from this if I could, I swear it." His lips barely tasted hers. So warm. So kind.

His kiss was a plea. A promise.

And Jace succumbed to tenderness as she could not have to desire.

Without warning, the charged atmosphere shifted from heartache and grief to a demand so powerful her head roared with it.

He gripped her hair in one hand, no finesse, no reserve, as his mouth ravaged hers.

She swiveled on his lap as he stripped away her blouse. She pressed her breasts against him, fed on his mouth. The air around them was redolent with blossoms, heavy and sweet. Leafy boughs overhead sealed them into an arbor that could have been Eden.

Jace couldn't get her breath, but she didn't care. She needed him so badly, craved what he had to give. Her mind reeled with images she couldn't credit, pictures of herself in his lap like this, naked, stripped of everything but him to protect her.

"Dante?" She panted, laboring to sort truth from illusion. "Why can't I remember? Did you..."
Sweet, cool liquid.
"Did you...drug me?"

She could see the torment in his eyes. Feel him tremble with the effort to remain still. Silent.

"Oh, God. You did."

His face went stark with pain and longing. "Justine, there is so much you do not understand." He tried to set her aside.

"Then tell me, damn it." She clasped his shoulders in white-knuckled fingers. What bound him so closely that even now, when she knew his very soul was within her grasp...when she'd bared her own to him...he could not yield?

A deep shudder wracked her. A voice that sounded like his echoed faintly in her mind.
You will see things...hear things that confuse you, arouse your suspicions. You must not yield to them.

Had he said that, or was it a dream? "Please, Dante. Give me something to work with."

She witnessed his struggle, the battle that was eroding his iron control. Time spun out on an endless, delicate filament, so fragile she was afraid to breathe.

His lips parted, and in that second, she knew that his choice would forever change her life.

The intercom crackled. "I'm sorry, Boss. I have to disturb you."

Dante jolted. "What is it, Manolo?"

"The police are here. With a search warrant."

Chapter Seventeen

Dante went rigid. Jace blinked in shock. Before she could gather her thoughts, he changed right in front of her eyes. No trace of the haunted, vulnerable lover; now he was the cold blade of steel she'd first met.

Stiffly, he rose, eyes wintry. "Tell them I will be right there, Manolo."

"Dante, I didn't—"

He rounded on her then, ice becoming the pure flame of hate. "Didn't what? Intend to be here when they came? Or was that your job, to make certain I'd be unprepared?"

"I swear I didn't know their plans. I—I've been suspended." The shame of that admission paled in light of what was slipping from her grasp. All trust had fled now; every sign of the man who regretted the need for silence had vanished. "Dante, I—"

"She will die now. Thanks to you, I can no longer protect her." His fury scorched her.

"Who?"

"Cassandra. She is missing. He has her."

"Who does?"

"Markos Petrakis."

"Who is he?"

"Someone who hates me enough to harm an innocent girl."

"I..." She shook her head stupidly. He
had
been protecting someone. "Tell me where to look. I'll find her."

"Do not interfere further, Justine. He is part of the evil, and he will kill her if you do."

"But—"

He hurled her blouse at her. "Get dressed," he snapped. "Unless you'd like your fellow officers to see just what you will do to make a case." He turned away, but not before she saw the loathing on his features.

She grabbed his arm. "Dante, you have to listen—"

He whirled, and she wanted to weep at what she saw. "Do not touch me." His jaw tightened. "Get out. Now."

And then it was too late. At the door of the greenhouse, Earl and Gabriel appeared, backed by three uniforms. Gabriel's eyes shot fury. Earl's held bone-deep disappointment.

Jace's fingers fumbled on the clasp of her bra. Her blouse lay on the floor in front of her, a white flag of her surrender of the last vestige of a good cop. She wanted to be anywhere but here, but fate had denied her an easy escape.

It was over. She was finished.

Her head spun with the protests she longed to make, the explanations she could offer. But no one in this room cared to hear them, so instead she leaned over, picked up her blouse. Concentrated on each button as though life itself swayed in the balance. Vaguely she caught Dante's imperious tone as he ordered Manolo to call his attorney. Coldly invited Earl to search, the warning beneath clear as crystal.

She hoped only she heard the contempt that was aimed squarely at her, at the circumstances into which she'd dragged him.

"At least you're good for one thing," Gabriel said, in tones laced with disdain. "You kept him here so we won't have to hunt him down to arrest him when we find the evidence. You can go now. We don't need you."

Jace saw Dante's shoulders stiffen as his suspicions were confirmed. "You're wrong. He didn't— I don't think he's guilty."

"Jesus Christ, Jace, what kind of hold has he got on you? Never mind. I know exactly what kind."

"That's enough, McMullen," Earl barked.

But the damage was done. The uniforms had heard. Before nightfall, the entire force would have the story. Jace had never felt so alone. She went ramrod-straight, gathering whatever threads of dignity were left to her, and walked to the door, her life in shreds behind her. Her bones ached with weariness, but it wasn't time yet to rest. Something wasn't right, and it was up to her to find out what.

Tonight was Tuesday. Midnight would come.

She had nothing left to lose. She would make the rendezvous and see what Simon could teach her.

* * *

Driving up the twisting mountain road late that night, Jace puzzled over Dante's words.
He has her.
  She felt little satisfaction that Gabriel must be grinding his teeth that Dante was already free. They hadn't found enough to convince a judge to deny bail.

Who was Markos Petrakis to Dante? Why did Petrakis hate him?
Do not interfere, Justine. He will kill her if you do.

Could she rely on her judgment anymore? Was Petrakis merely a smokescreen that she would buy into because she had wanted to believe in Dante's innocence?

But Dante had drugged her, hadn't he, even if he didn't say it in so many words?

This is more important than you can imagine. Other lives are at stake.

You are the key, you see, and I did not expect that. I thought you were a myth.

What the hell?

She almost missed her turn.
Snap out of it, Jace.
A gap in the trees teased her memory. It was like she'd been here before.

But when?

Turning up the road that was barely a path, she concentrated hard on dodging tree branches.

A figure stepped out in front of her, blond hair gleaming in her headlights.

Simon. He pointed behind him; she turned into the break in the trees, then jumped out of her jeep, tucked her side piece in her waistband and raced to catch up to his receding figure.

She lost him a couple of times and stumbled once in the moonless night. A large building loomed ahead; Simon disappeared inside double doors, leaving them open.

Jace slowed and drew her weapon, listening hard.

Footsteps sounded behind her.

Jace whirled.

A dark figure loomed from the shadows, black hooded robe covering the person entirely.

The
Magos
?

An arm wrapped her throat and squeezed; a rag with a sickly-sweet odor covered her face. The dark figure moved closer. Her consciousness wavered. Her weapon slipped from nerveless fingers.

The mouth near her ear whispered, low and gleeful. "Welcome to the dark side, Detective..."

Her vision narrowed to a pinpoint of light.

Then nothing.

* * *

The sound of soft sobs awoke Jace. Her eyes strained to see in the deep shadows, to comprehend what was going on. Where was she?

Struggling to sit up, she realized her hands and feet were bound. Cold concrete beneath her, a wall against one shoulder. A faint odor wafted up from beside her. She could see the merest outline of a rag.

It came back in a flood. Simon. The
Magos
. Memories of chanting voices...drumbeats and the plaintive notes of a flute—

Jace tried to sort out memory from dreams.

The soft cries continued.

Her vision adjusted to the dimness. Jace made out a cot across the small room, a small figure huddled upon it. Moving gingerly, she lowered herself to the floor and rolled like a log toward the sobbing figure.

"Cassie?" she whispered.

The sound ceased. "How—who are you?"

Thank God
. She'd found her. Now if she could just get them both out of here—wherever
here
was. "My name is Jace. I'm a friend of Dante's."

The girl sat up, dark hair wild about her head. "Dante sent you?" Then suspicion colored her tone. "Dante doesn't call me Cassie."

"But Jimmy does—did," Jace corrected, feeling the sharp pain in her heart. "He was my brother."

"Was? Jimmy's dead?" The girl moaned. "No!"

"Yes." Jace ignored the pain, focused on the immediate. "Don't let anyone hear you. I'll explain later. We've got to make plans. Untie me while you tell me where we are."

"I don't know." The girl's voice broke. "Somewhere in the mountains. Antonia brought me here, then Markos—"

"Markos Petrakis?" Jace held out her hands to the girl.

"You know him?"

"No, but Dante—"

Suddenly, the room flooded with light. Both of them froze, Cassie's fingers going rigid over Jace's bonds.

"Dante what?" A statuesque woman strolled into the room, long black hair cascading over a flowing red robe.

The bare-breasted priestess in Jace's dream.

Naked woman bound to a slab of obsidian marble...black-masked observers...

Or had it been a dream?

"Awake already, Detective?"

"Where am I? Who are you?"

"That's not important. You'll sit tight for a while. Cassandra, move away from her."

Fear crossed Cassie's face; she darted a glance at Jace, then scooted back on the cot.

"Sit tight and wait for what?" Any information would help her. "You're the Priestess, aren't you?"

"Very good, Detective."

"So where does Markos Petrakis figure in all this?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "He doesn't."

Jace heard Cassie's intake of breath. Still holding the other woman's gaze, she prodded. "I think you're lying. Are you part of his plan to frame Dante for murder?"

"Goodness, Detective. Such fancies. You have an agile mind; too bad your lust for Dante blinds you. Not that I don't understand. Dante is an unforgettable lover."

Oh my God. She'd seen this woman somewhere else before.

The couple behind the draperies. Her with...Dante.

Trust me. You will see things...hear things that confuse you, arouse your suspicions. You must not yield to them.
Jace struggled to ignore her taunt. "I see fine. Don't worry about me."

The woman laughed, low and sultry. "Oh, trust me, Detective. I'm not worried at all."

The door opened again. Jace sucked in a breath of surprise, barely hearing Cassie's whimper.

Simon. In purple robes.

A figure moving between the bound girl's legs, opening his robes..."Keeper," the Priestess had called.

The Keeper is dangerous.

"You're the Keeper," Jace said. "The one Jimmy told me would hurt Cassie."

How had she ever thought those green eyes friendly? Jace stifled a shudder of revulsion, recalling his hands on her.

Simon smiled, his eyes glazed, pupils too large. He was high on something. "Poor Jimmy...such a shame to lose a member of the faithful."

Jace lunged for him but fell heavily to the floor, her feet still bound.

He laughed. The woman smirked.

"You killed him, didn't you? You bastard—"

He grasped her hair in one hand and jerked it nearly out of her head. Jace willed herself not to react.

"He was a fool, a weakling who complicated my plans."

"He tried to save Cassie, didn't he?" Jace heard Cassie's gasp.

Simon yanked her hair again. Tears pricked at her eyes. "He had a foolish notion of playing her champion."

"You murderer—"

He gripped her chin until his nails dug into her skin. Smiled. "He was drunk. He slipped and fell down the stairs."

Rage roared through Jace, displacing the pain. "If he did, you pushed him."

"Now, now," he squeezed the joints of her jaws so hard that tears formed. "That's no way to talk, especially to someone who's seen how well you respond to the darker urges." His eyes reminded her of the first night at The Club.

She glared her defiance even as she shuddered at the realization that it had been his touch she'd felt that night, not Dante's.

He laughed again. "Remarkable how quickly you responded. Your partner was impressed, wasn't he, Antonia?"

The other woman's eyes gleamed. She licked her lips. "He was very—shall we say, responsive himself. He'd never touched me quite like that."

Jace thought she would be sick. Had it all been a game, an exercise in seduction? Everything she'd done, all she'd lost—just part of some depraved little diversion?

The woman called Antonia chuckled. "Oh, my. You really want to believe in his innocence, don't you?" She moved closer. "Goodness me, the cynical detective thought our Dante felt something special for her." She clucked her tongue. "I'm sorry to have to dispel your little fantasy. Dante is the one who taught me about the Light and my role as the Priestess."

No
. Jace's heart rebelled.

Antonia leaned over her, dark eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh, Detective, you disappoint me."

Her laughter cut like razors.

"How can you call yourself a detective and not realize that Dante is the
Magos
?"