Vigil (29 page)

“Oh, Callum.” My heart went out to him.

“Blake laughed at me. She made fun of me about it. She said it was funny that I was so gorgeous and so rich and useless as a man.”

“She didn’t say that,” I said.

“I told you she was never very nice,” he said. “Even when we were kids, she was just sort of self-centered and bratty.”

“I hate her,” I said.

“I know you do,” he said. “I don’t really like her either.”

“I hate Frank too. I hate him. If he weren’t already dead, I would kill him myself.”

“Frank was twisted,” said Callum. “The way he made sure we watched those videos. The way he seemed to get pleasure at our discomfort.”

“Do you think he wanted to hurt women too? Like Hayden does?”

“I think he
did
hurt women that way,” said Callum. “Maybe even killed them. Girls that I used to hire told me stories about friends they had that were hired for Frank’s private parties. But their friends never came back.”

I shuddered. “That’s horrible.”

“You ready for the most fucked-up part?” he asked.

“What could be more fucked up?”

“When I put on that suit… when I’m Vigil…”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” I said. “You said I should trust you.”

“And I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said. “But I’m different when I’m him. I’m sort of… controlling. Demanding. I tell you what to do.”

I hesitated. “Well, yeah, but that turns me on.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” I laughed, feeling embarrassed. “Maybe it’s something leftover from our animal brains or something. You ever watch National Geographic or whatever? I mean, when animals mate, it’s not exactly champagne and chocolates.”

He drew in a breath.

“What you do to me—what we do together,” I said in a small voice, “it’s hardly on par with a snuff film. You’ve never done anything that I didn’t enjoy.”

He crushed me against him, kissing my forehead, my eyebrows, whatever he could get his mouth on. “You really are the best thing that ever happened to me. You know everything, and you’re still here. You didn’t run away.”

“Of course not,” I said, searching for his lips, putting my own against his.

We kissed. It was desperate and wet and prolonged.

He broke away. “But I… when I found about your past, I was weird about it. I don’t deserve you.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “It’s okay.”

And then we were kissing again. This time it was a little softer. Slower.

He kissed the tip of my nose. My cheekbones. The top of my head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I burrowed in the warm circle of his arms. It was good to be close to him.

* * *

When I woke up, Callum was still asleep. He was lying on his back, and his silk pajama shirt had ridden up, exposing his tawny, muscled abs.

I couldn’t help but reach over and touch him, running my fingers over his skin.

He made a soft noise in his sleep, sounding pleased.

Feeling wicked, I sat up and began to unbutton his pajama shirt, baring his chest. I’d only seen it once, the time I’d initiated things after the photo shoot. He was glorious—rigid and tan and perfectly put together. I placed my palms on his pecks and dragged my hands over his chest, exploring every plane and valley.

He sighed, still not awake.

When my hands slid down past his belly button, I paused. I was right at the edge of his pajama bottoms.

Should I undress him further? I bit my lip, unsure. I wanted to, but I didn’t know if he’d wake up appreciative or freaked out. We’d never had this kind of intimacy before. I remembered that when I’d removed his mask, he’d been angry.

I ran my hands over his thighs, feeling his solid skin underneath the thin layer of silk.

But things were different now. There were no more secrets between us.

He shifted slightly, letting out a soft groan.

That was when I realized he was hard.

Ooh… Now I really wanted to touch his erection. It taunted me, straining against the cloth of his pajamas. It wanted me to touch it. I could tell.

Maybe if I started when he was asleep, he’d wake up and realize that there was nothing keeping him from performing exactly the way he did when he was Vigil.

I tugged at his pajama pants, exposing him.

His cock lay long and thick against his stomach. It wasn’t completely erect yet, but it was still a force to be reckoned with.

For a few seconds, I just looked at it. There was something delicious about being so close to a man’s aroused genitals. In that moment, he seemed so powerful and so vulnerable. The collision of those opposites made me giddy.

And besides… he was
pretty
.

I ran a tentative finger over him, starting at the tip and going all the way down the root, where his shaft met the sensitive skin of his scrotum.

I looked up at Callum’s face. No reaction.

Now that I had him so exposed, I wanted to explore everything. It was like discovering a new country. I wanted to see and touch it all.

I carefully traced the outline of his sac. I stroked his balls.

He moaned, but his eyes were still closed.

I made another soft stroke.

His cock stood straight up, stiff and thick.

It almost seemed to wink at me.

I licked my lips.

I wanted to taste him.

I repositioned myself so that I was crouched over his body, straddling him. This way, I could look up and see his face whenever I wanted. I took the head of his cock into my mouth.

I moaned as my tongue slid over his soft, hot skin. There was something incredibly sensuous about having him in my mouth like this.

I took him deeper.

His hips thrust into my mouth, startling me.

I looked up at him, but his eyes weren’t open. His lips were slightly parted, and he let out a noisy breath.

I slid my mouth down his shaft. I dragged it back up. He felt amazing in my mouth. I was getting turned on doing this. I reached down to rub my own clit.

I bobbed up and down on him, quickening my pace.

He grunted. He thrust again, momentarily gagging me.

I recovered, giving him a long lick up the stem of him.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Jesus. Was he awake? I looked at him.

His eyes snapped open.

We looked at each other for a minute. I halted my movement, just staring at him with his cock in my mouth.

“Cecily…” he managed, his voice hoarse.

I took that as permission. I took him deep down my throat again, swallowing him.

And he came.

Immediately, I felt him spasming, pumping his semen down my throat.

He pushed me away.

I reached for him.

But he looked too angry. He yanked up his pajamas and got out of bed. He stalked across the room to his adjoining bathroom, went inside, and slammed the door after himself.

I settled on my knees on the bed. Oops. I guessed that hadn’t gone exactly like I’d hoped. But it had been working. When he was asleep, he’d let me give him head with no problem. Whatever made him come prematurely like that, it was in his head. He was making himself do it. He needed to relax, to try to let himself just experience it, and I was pretty sure that the whole problem would go away.

The bathroom door opened. Callum stood in the doorway, hanging his head. He was holding a glass of water.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He came across the room to me and handed me the water.

He was really considerate about making sure I had something to drink after I swallowed, which was sweet of him. I took the glass of water.

He sat down on the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and sank his hands into his hair. “For a second, I thought it wasn’t going to happen. But you moved, and I couldn’t stop it.”

I touched his back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It was only that I woke up, and you were kind of hard, and I think your penis is mesmerizing.”

He laughed. He looked up at me. “Trust me, it was not a bad way to wake up.”

I twisted my hands together in my lap. “No?”

He kissed me.

I set the glass of water down on the bedside table.

The kiss deepened.

I pressed myself against him, and we fell back on the bed together.

He hugged me close, his voice low and rumbling. “You’re amazing. You’re too good to me. But I would have liked that to go on just a little bit longer.”

I stroked his jaw. “We’ll have to practice is all. It’ll be fun.”

“No,” he said.

“No?” I said.

“I can’t perform unless I’m in the costume. It’s just the way things are. I’m lucky to even have that. I just have to accept that.”

“That isn’t true,” I said. “You can perform out of it. It’s only that you haven’t done it yet.”

He rolled away from me, staring up at the ceiling. “See? It’s happening again. I’m disappointing you. Eventually, you’ll get so fed up with me that you won’t be able to stand it, and it’ll be over.”

I rolled onto my side. I kissed his shoulder. “I seriously doubt that. I told you I was mesmerized by your cock.” I propped myself up on my elbows. “Besides, we have really good sex. Like universe-bursting-into-a-zillion-pieces good.”

“You want me to be able to do it out of costume, though.”

“Well, it would be nice to feel your naked skin against my naked skin,” I said. “But I’m not dissatisfied, Callum. I want it more for you than for me. And I’m positive you can do it. We just have to, you know, practice.”

“I don’t know,” he said.

I leaned over him and kissed him. “I plan to work you up so much that you have tons of hard-ons. Plenty for practicing with.”

He grinned at me. “We’ll see.” He kissed me again.

* * *

We ate breakfast in the dining room that morning. Callum and I sat at one end of the long table. I felt like the room swallowed us. It was so elaborate and enormous.

Nolan served us, bringing in French toast and fresh strawberries with orange juice and coffee. He cast disapproving looks at me whenever he thought I wasn’t watching him. But I saw what he was doing. He obviously still didn’t like me.

As much as I tried to tell myself that I didn’t care, Nolan’s furtive glares got to me. To distract myself, I started to talk about Maria Shaw, whose legs we’d found.

“She worked as a secretary for Barclay, Barclay, and Price,” I said.

“She wasn’t a stripper?” said Callum. “Or a prostitute?”

“No,” I said. “That’s the weird thing. She doesn’t fit the pattern at all.”

“So why’d he kill her?” said Callum.

“Because his father made him watch fucked-up—”

“Don’t.” He gave me shocked eyes. He lowered his voice. “Nolan doesn’t know. I don’t want him to. He’d blame himself.”

I looked around. Nolan wasn’t in the room, but I supposed he could be listening in somewhere.

I squared my shoulders. “The point is that it’s out of character for him. And he hid her legs in that storage unit. And when he did it, he rented it as The Phantom, not as Barclay.”

“Well, he wouldn’t want that storage unit associated with his real identity,” said Callum. “And Maria blows his cover. She worked for his uncle.”

“Right,” I said. “He hid her legs because she was the key to uncovering his identity.”

“He probably saw her a lot,” said Callum. “He felt compelled to do it, drawn to her, and then when it was done, he knew he had to hide it.”

I nodded. He was probably right. But there was something about it that bothered me. Something that wasn’t right.

I ate a strawberry and puzzled over it.

“You okay?” said Callum. “You look like you’re concentrating really hard.”

“It’s only that it doesn’t fit,” I said.

“What doesn’t?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “Something…” I ate another strawberry.

“Something about Barclay? About Maria Shaw?”

And then I had it. “About protecting his identity.”

“What?”

“He was connected to Darlene,” I said. “She wasn’t his only girlfriend, but they were close enough that he rented her an apartment and everything. And he didn’t have any problem dumping her torso in the bay. I don’t think it’s about his identity.”

“Well, you do make a good point.” Callum sipped his coffee, looking thoughtful.

“You’re right, though,” I said. “He would have seen her a lot. Because the woman at the desk told me that he comes by the law offices every day and takes the stairs…” It all snapped together in my mind. “It’s about the building.”

“What?”

“He has some kind of lair or something, and it’s under that building,” I said. “I bet the rest of the legs are there.”

“Why do you think this?”

“The other night when I saw the two of you outside the law offices, the woman at the desk said he’d just come in. I remember thinking he was in the building. But then I saw him outside in the alley in his Phantom costume. He comes in every night as Hayden, and then he takes the stairs down to his hidden, secret place where he changes into The Phantom. That’s the secret he was trying to protect. He didn’t want anyone looking into that building.”

Callum raised his eyebrows. “I think you’re right.”

I grinned. “You do? Then we have to check it out. If we get pictures, if we find the legs, I think we have enough to take him down. And it’ll make a dynamite article.”

“Okay,” he said. “But it’ll have to be later tonight. I have this work stuff I have to do.”

“Work stuff? Do you even work?”

“I run a multi-national, billion-dollar corporation, Cecily. I work.”

“Yeah, but not that hard, right? I mean, you never talk about work.”

He pressed his lips into a firm line.

Okay, so maybe that was a little bit rude on my part to insinuate that he didn’t work. “Sorry,” I said. “How much later tonight?”

* * *

“You can’t be down here alone, Ms. Kane,” said Nolan. He was standing in the doorway to Vigil’s lair—the one that connected to the subway.

Apparently, as I’d just discovered, it also connected to the Rutherford mansion. And now that I was in here, I was realizing that there were lots of nifty weapons and gadgets that could come in very useful.

“Well, I’m down here.” I turned my back to him, surveying a wall of clubs—like police officer billy clubs. They were thick and black. I picked one up. “So, is this seriously just to like hit people over the head with?”