The Mark of Cain (6 page)

It was fortunate that Hara, though her instincts
were incredible, just as obviously second-guessed them. For a moment he’d
thought that his plan to corrupt her wouldn’t work because she was bound to
sense his true nature. But now that he’d learned so much about her, he knew
that she would give him a chance no matter what her gut told her. He was lucky
she was so innocent and trusting. This would be a piece of cake.

As he hustled down the stairs toward his bullet
bike, he pulled out his cell to call the manager of Herod’s.

“Hey, it’s me.” He knew Étienne would know who it
was.

“Mr. Adamson, what can I do for you?”

“There’s going to be a couple coming in soon. I
don’t know the last name, but the first name will be Eric and he’ll be with a
gorgeous blonde.”

“Okay…?”

“After dinner, I want you to tell him that his
credit card is denied. Do whatever you can to force the bill on the woman.”

“And if
she
doesn’t have the money, sir?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m on my way to handle it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Inac didn’t say goodbye before hitting the end
button. Now finished with that stage of the plan forming in his mind, he made
another call.

“Go for Santoni,” a deep voice answered.

“I need you to do something for me….”

***

“What do you mean it was declined? I’ve never even
used it,” Eric argued, his face turning as red as the walls.

“Perhaps you forgot to activate it then, sir,” the
waiter replied. “I can try another one if you’d like?”

“Please do,” he said, handing over another card from
his wallet. He was extremely flustered, which only made Hara feel awkward with
the entire situation. Trying not to let Eric see her awkwardness, she played
with the bread crumbs on the beautiful pressed white cloth that covered the
round table they sat at.

When that one—and another three—came back declined,
she grabbed the silver clutch she’d brought and said, “Why don’t you try mine?”

“I’m sorry,” Eric said, almost crying from what she
guessed was a combination of frustration and humiliation. “I don’t know why
they aren’t working. I
swear
they aren’t at their limits.”

“I know,” she said with a smile. “How about I take
care of this and you can just owe me dinner some other time?” He cracked a
small smile back, probably thinking that she was asking him for a second date.

She took a card and began handing it to the
manager—who had followed the waiter over two cards ago—when a deep voice that
got her heart racing asked, “What seems to be the problem, Étienne?”

She began turning toward the voice she’d been
fantasizing about for days now when he moved up next to her. And wow, did he
look good. She thought he’d looked good in a tight T-shirt and distressed
jeans, but cleaned up…he looked like a cologne model from one of Crystal’s
magazines. His all black suit was draped perfectly over his broad shoulders, he
wore no tie, and the first couple of buttons were undone to show his muscular
chest underneath, as well as a tiny bit of the tattoo on his neck. From what
she could see now, it apparently moved down to the right side of his chest and
who knew where else. It was only then that she remembered that his left arm had
been tattoo-free, but the right one had consisted of the same design that was
on his neck….

“This gentleman’s cards have all been declined,
sir,” the manager said, his nose rising with a pompous air in response to Mr.
Adamson’s entrance.

“Have they.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, sir.”

“So his girlfriend was about to pay?”

“Yes, sir.”

A part of her wanted to correct him; to let him know
that she wasn’t Eric’s girlfriend. It was the human part of her responsible for
her carnal desires. The part that tingled in anticipation of his lips on hers.
The part that longed to be touched by him; to be held by him. It was so ridiculous,
though, that she squashed it down like Vinnie would squash down a spider that
dared to enter his club. Mr. Adamson was revolted by her. He
hated
her.
And she didn’t even know why….

“You should know that a woman as enchanting as she
is should never pay for her own dinner, let alone anyone else’s,” Mr. Adamson’s
perfect lips said.

Wait…what? Enchanting? He thought her to be
enchanting
?
Now her heart was
really
pumping. The butterflies in her stomach were
flying each and every direction so forcefully that she wondered if any would
fly out of her mouth. Puking all over his shiny black shoes was
bound
to
make a great impression….

Mr. Adamson grabbed her hand that was offering the
card with surprisingly soft, dark fingers—he had a very deep olive complexion
that was absolutely beautiful and different from any she’d ever seen—and
brought it to his mouth, lightly kissing a knuckle.

She couldn’t breathe as she looked up into his eyes.
Fire was flowing from his lips and taking over her body. She felt her lips part
slightly, waiting for his to descend upon them.
That
she had never felt
for a man before.

But he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he let go of her
hand, which didn’t move from its place in the air. It was stiff, begging for
another touch from him. It didn’t get it.

“Of course, sir,” the manager was saying, bringing
her back from the precipice Mr. Adamson’s lips had taken her to. “What would
you like me to do?”

“Comp it.”

“And the tip?”

Mr. Adamson pulled a thick black wallet out of his
slacks and handed a couple of bills to the waiter—she didn’t see the amount.

“Thank you, sir,” the waiter replied before walking
off, the manager not far behind him now that the situation was resolved.

“Yes, thank you,” Eric added, his voice full of
suspicion.

“You’re welcome,” Mr. Adamson said, though his eyes
were on Hara, who hadn’t moved her’s from
him
since he’d materialized.

“Do you two know each other?” Eric asked.

In a thick voice, Hara said to Eric, though her eyes
didn’t move to him, “Mr. Adamson’s thinking of buying the club I work at.”

“Actually, I already bought it. And please, it’s
Inac.” He said it like E-knack.

Her curiosity piqued, she said, “Inac? That’s an
interesting name. It almost sounds like a biblical name.”

He had been smiling before, though it hadn’t reached
his dark eyes. Now, however, his smile became larger and a mischievous sparkle
lit his eyes up like Vegas—which she’d driven through on her way here from New
Hampshire four years ago, so she would know. It was like he was enjoying some
private joke.

“And what about Anahara?” he asked, his eyes
twinkling. “That sounds like something even more ancient than the Bible.”

She giggled. “What can I say? My parents were
weird.”

“As were mine,” he said as he sat himself on the
edge of the table, looking at her and nothing else.

He was looking her directly in the eye, not wavering
one bit. If he was flirting—she couldn’t tell—then he was being quite forward
in his advances. You just didn’t look someone in the eye like that. Now
she
was getting flustered, but the kind opposite of what Eric had been.

Eric! Inac’s intense gaze had made her
completely
forget about him!

“At least Eric had normal parents,” she said,
forcing her eyes from Inac’s to smile at her date to bring him back into the
conversation. She feared that if she didn’t, she would become forever lost in
Inac’s obsidian eyes.

“Normal is overrated,” Inac responded as he stood
up, which in turn seemed to break the spell he had cast on her. “Well, you two
lovebirds have a good night. I have places to go and people to see. Come back
when you have money to pay for your meal,” he added over his shoulder. He had
yet to really acknowledge Eric.

“And you, my dear,” he said, grabbing her hand again
and saying to her in a voice that felt conspiratorial, “come back anytime you’d
like. It will be on the house.” He then kissed her hand again before
disappearing.

As soon as he was out of eye shot, she felt she
could breathe again, though her hand still burned. What was up with the effect
he had on her? It’s not like he was
that
special to make her body
respond the way it did.

Sure, he had a muscular body a god would envy. And
he had a defined jaw and a rugged chin with a cleft in it, all covered with
thick dark stubble the same length as the stubble on his head. He also had substantial
eyelashes as black as his slightly tilted, exotic eyes, and a straight,
aristocratic nose above his full, defined lips that spoke with a velvety tone
that was like the musical tinkling of water dancing over rocks. And then there
was that beautiful skin tone, dark against her alabaster skin, which made it
difficult to determine his nationality. He had angular cheekbones, so maybe
Italian, though the nose was somewhat Greek in nature? Whatever the case, all
his characteristics didn’t add up to her almost
fainting
over the guy,
no matter
how
gorgeous and masculine he was.

“Well, shall we?” Eric asked in a clipped voice. It
seemed that he had noticed the effect Inac had had on her and couldn’t help but
compare it to the lack of such effect
he
had on her.

Still slightly dazed, she nodded before standing to
follow him out of the restaurant. Now that she’d really studied Inac, she
couldn’t help but notice how ordinary Eric was. Where Inac was exotic and
alluring, Eric was plain and dull. He was like the rusted old penny next to a
cartload of precious gems.

They walked through the dark parking lot, empty of
people because everyone else had paid for valet. It seemed to help her come
back to her senses, and she realized how rude she was being to Eric.

Trying to remedy the situation, she said, “Thanks
for dinner, Eric. It was delicious.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he said, kicking a stone. His
feelings were hurt and she didn’t know what to do about it.

They were almost to his beat-up old sedan when she
heard a rustling. Suddenly, cold fear gripped her. Her paranoia was back in
full force as her primitive instincts kicked in. The part of her that had been
instilled when her ancestors had lived in caves was telling her that she was
being hunted.

“Give me your wallet!” a giant of a man with a
full-face ski mask demanded as he emerged from the shadows next to the car.

“Be cool,” Eric said, putting a hand in his pants
pocket, the other up in a stop motion. She didn’t understand exactly why Eric
was moving in such controlled movements until she saw the glint of light
reflecting off something metal in the man’s hands so large they resembled the
buildings around them. He had a gun.

Eric handed his wallet over, repeating over and over
again, “Be cool, man. Just be cool.”

Once he had the wallet, the man raised the gun and
swung it, hitting Eric across the temple with the brunt of it.

“Eric!” she screamed, springing forward to catch his
unconscious form. She didn’t make it, though. When she was almost to him,
something hard hit her across the cheek, the force throwing her down to the
rough ground.

Trying to right the world from its spinning, she
looked up at the figure between the stars in her head. He was bringing back the
hand that had hit her; the hand that held Eric’s wallet. At least she hadn’t
been hit with the gun.

“Don’t move!” the man yelled, pointing the gun at
her.

“I…I won’t,” she stammered, shrinking away from him.
Her cheek was
killing
her.

Just as she began to think that she was going to
die, a dark figure suddenly ran across her point of view, its arm grabbing for
the gun. She was too scared and disoriented to follow the action, but a few
moments into the struggle, the sound of a gunshot ripped through the otherwise
silent summer evening. The masked figure then turned and ran, each foot as loud
as the throbbing in her face.

“Hara? Are you okay?” Inac’s deep voice rang out,
calming her.

Looking up at his figure in the dark she nodded, one
hand to her burning cheek. “But Eric….”

“He’s okay. He’s breathing,” he said.

Relief flooded her veins.

“Here, I’ll help you up,” Inac said, offering her
his hands after he wiped them on his pants. As he pulled her to a standing
position, he faltered slightly. Odd. He seemed so muscular. Picking up
too-skinny her shouldn’t be a problem.

“Inac?” she questioned, feeling that she was missing
something. Her brain was just too slow right now.

“I’m fine.”

That was when she realized that something
was
wrong. Why would he even say that? Especially in a voice getting weaker by the
moment?

“Where are you hurt?”