Midnight's Captive (Dark Warriors) (2 page)

She knew from her many hours of covertly observing him every contour of his face, from his razor-sharp cheekbones to his high forehead and square chin. She knew how his lips could look soft and inviting when he wanted something, but if he was angry, they were hard and thin as he pressed them together.

In the two years from working closely with Charon, she’d seen all his emotions. None had made her stomach knot like the one on his face now.

The way he looked at the inn as if he were in another time or place made her skin tingle with some emotion she could neither name, nor explain.

Her mouth went dry when his tall, muscular frame unfolded with liquid grace from the car. She never tired of looking at him. He was utterly virile, wonderfully male.

Completely, wickedly gorgeous.

His dark, seductive eyes, which she had seen promise other women sin and satisfaction, now appeared haunted. Troubled.

Her gaze raked over his frame that lounged nonchalantly against his car with one ankle crossed over the other. He wore his jeans low on his hips, as if they had been custom-made to show off every wonderful angle of his trim hips, firm butt, and long legs.

Laura bit her lip as her eyes traveled up from his narrow waist to the wide
V
made by his impressive chest and shoulders. She might not be able to touch him, but she knew every inch of his upper body from watching him move huge barrels of whisky.

In the summer he’d remove his shirt while working, and that’s when it took every ounce of her willpower not to ogle his striking body and honed sinew like some love-struck teenager.

As drawn in to his body as she always was, Laura didn’t miss the way his jaw was clenched. He stood strung tight as a bow, so tense he appeared as if he might crack into a million pieces at any second.

There were many secrets her box had, and she respected them. Yet, she found she wanted to go to him and wrap her arms around him. To give him the comfort it seemed he so desperately needed.

It was silly. Charon didn’t need anyone. At least not usually. This was the first time she’d seen him look so … ravaged … by whatever ate at him.

He was rarely alone. If one of the men about town wasn’t with him wanting something, there was a beautiful woman on his arm. Women flocked to him, but then who could resist such confidence and carnal sexuality combined into one man?

Thankfully, he didn’t bring the women back to his rooms. It was one of his own rules. No woman he dated had ever seen his office, much less his home or the inside of his bedroom.

Laura didn’t know why he kept to that rule, only that it saved her from having to see women with that pleasured look on their faces as she came into work.

She was used to the Charon who always had answers, the Charon who fixed any and all problems. The Charon who nothing seemed to affect.

But he was affected now. That much was obvious, and it worried her, settling into her chest in a tight knot.

She wished she didn’t care about him—or long for him. But she did. At night when she closed her eyes, it was his arms, his eyes … his body that held her captive, his mouth that kissed her into oblivion.

If there had even been a hint he was interested in her, she’d have let him know her interest. Charon, however, was her employer and friend. Nothing else would come of the longing, the … need she had for him.

Laura narrowed her eyes and turned her head to try to see what it was he pulled from his pocket. It was small and he studied it as if it held the answers of the world.

All the while, he rubbed his chest where it appeared his shirt had been cut. Concern spiked through her that he might be injured.

The only thing that stopped her from rushing down to him was that she didn’t see any blood on his hands.

She put her hand on the window when he turned his head to the woods. As if hearing some silent call, Charon pushed away from the car and started toward the forest.

His strides were quick as they ate up the ground. Long after he disappeared into the thick trees, she stood there, thinking of him, wanting him. She knew that look upon his face. He always went into the forest when he was unsettled.

Laura turned away from the window. He could be out there for hours. Still, she’d seen the tear in his shirt. She hurried into his office, where he kept spare shirts for when he had to break up fights in the bar.

There had been a time she hadn’t wanted to walk into his office. It was so very … male. So Charon. She loved the dark furniture, the gray walls, and all the wood, but it made her take notice of her handsome employer when she couldn’t afford to.

This time she ignored the desk and large leather chair and pulled open a drawer in the filing cabinet. She took the shirt on top and draped it over her shoulder as she headed to the small half kitchen near her desk.

Just a few minutes before, she’d put on water for tea, which she now poured in a large carafe and added tea bags. She dunked the bags three times, then added one teaspoon of sugar before screwing on the top.

She unlatched the sliding glass door that opened onto the second-floor deck and stepped outside. Laura positioned Charon’s shirt near the top step on the railing, and then set the carafe on the small table in case he came back sooner than she expected.

Once inside the office, she closed the door and found herself looking through the dense trees for a glimpse of Charon.

It was the ringing of the office phone that took her away.

CHAPTER TWO

Jason Wallace took slow, deep breaths through the pain, but it didn’t help to dull it. Nor had he been successful in finding a Druid with healing magic. Which meant he’d most likely have the five gashes along his left check as scars.

All thanks to Arran MacCarrick. But Jason’s revenge on the Warriors would happen sooner than any of them realized.

He reached for his mobile phone and dialed a number. There was a muffled hello on the fourth ring.

“Is everything in place?” he asked.

The man on the other end of the phone grunted. “Oh, aye. The wench is almost too easy.”

“I wouldna say that. You’ve no’ even managed to get her to agree to go to dinner with you, Ben.”

“Oh, doona worry. She’ll be yours to do with verra soon, Wallace. I’ve given my word.”

Jason squeezed the phone. “And I’ve given mine. If you fail, your life is forfeit.”

“I willna fail,” Ben declared.

Jason ended the call and looked out over the kitchen sink to the long drive overgrown with low-hanging trees limbs in desperate need of trimming. Any moment, Dale, his only remaining Warrior, would return with Mindy.

Mindy would be furious she’d been left behind, but she had to know getting out had been his only priority. It was up to everyone else to find him. Just because they were lovers didn’t afford her special privileges.

Mindy was a hellion in bed. Her white thighs would part for him with just a smile as she waited for him to tell her how he wanted her and when she could come. As fun as she was to fuck, it was her propensity for evil that drove him wild.

As he watched, a small dark green car came into view. A moment later it parked and Mindy bounded out of the car, shouting Jason’s name.

He turned to the door as it was thrown open. Mindy’s eyes glared daggers at him, and her lips—coated with her usual red lipstick—were flattened in fury.

“You left me,” she stated.

“You didna keep up.”

“I could’ve been killed.”

He leaned a hip against the kitchen counter and shrugged. “Aye. But you were no’. You’re alive.”

She took a step toward him, and her feet faltered when she caught sight of his face. The anger drained away, replaced by concern with a hint of disgust. “What happened?”

“The damned Warriors happened. Arran, point in fact.”

Mindy closed the distance between them and put her hands on his chest as she gazed up at him adoringly. “Have you tried to heal yourself.”

“Aye. Nothing works.”

“We’ll kill Arran together, and then we’ll take his woman and make her suffer. No one harms you. No one.”

Jason pulled her into his arms and smiled.

*   *   *

Laura rolled her head from side to side to stretch out the tight muscles from sitting at the computer all day. She saved her current spreadsheet after entering in the week’s total sales before pulling open another document to place an order for the alcohol they were running low on.

Four orders later, she glanced at the clock to see it was half past six. Charon still hadn’t returned.

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth and clicked her e-mail instead of leaving. Upon seeing a message from Dreagan Industries, she quickly opened it.

Dreagan had the best scotch in all of Scotland, but they were choosy about who they allowed to sell their liquor. She had been writing them for over a year now proving how well Charon’s business was doing and why the sale of Dreagan scotch would be a boon for both of them.

So far they hadn’t bothered to answer. So why the sudden response now?

Laura was too excited to care. She opened the message and hastily scanned it. When she didn’t see a refusal, she paused and read the message more slowly.

“Good,” she said as she leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh. “I’ve finally got some great news for Charon.”

Laura looked behind her to the deck where the shirt she’d set out and the tea—replaced three times already—still sat untouched.

Charon had to be deeply bothered to stay away from work so long. He rarely left, and when he did, it was usually for something important.

Though he kept his whereabouts a secret from her, if she called him, he always answered the phone. Except for this last time. She’d called to let him know there had been a brawl in the club with several broken windows.

When he hadn’t answered, she’d grown concerned. When he didn’t return her call, she had almost phoned Scotland Yard. Charon always kept in touch with her.

Always.

She hadn’t realized how worried she was until she looked out the window that morning and saw his car. The brief glimpse she got of him had been enough to know something wasn’t right. Was it regarding the business or personal? She didn’t know.

At least when he returned she could tell him the news about Dreagan. The fact they wanted a meeting could only mean great things. Their first hurdle was over with. Now, all Charon had to do was charm them as he did everyone, and the deal would be sealed.

Laura rose from her chair and walked to the row upon row of CDs lining the far wall. Charon’s offices weren’t like most employers’. Few people ever had the opportunity to come upstairs, and when they did, they were treated to a spectacular sight.

The office was an extension of Charon. The floors were a dark wood, the walls painted a soft, muted gray. There were highly prized—and coveted—swords and shields dating back to the fourteenth through seventeenth centuries. A vase from eighteenth-century China, paintings from British artists during the nineteenth century, and other highly prized items.

Mixed with the historical items were photos of Scotland in varying sizes around the room. The rugs, drawing in the various shades of green, bronze, burgundy, and navy only helped to accentuate the warm feel of the room.

There was a cream-colored leather couch sitting near the hearth but facing the windows looking out over the forest. Charon sat there often, sipping on his favorite scotch, Dreagan.

Laura’s desk was situated in a corner so she could see anyone coming up the stairs. The way her desk was arranged, it also prevented anyone from peering into Charon’s office unless she allowed the visitor.

She looked at the closed door to Charon’s office. The door was the same color wood as the floor and moldings. It was one area she rarely ventured into when he wasn’t there.

He’d never told her she wasn’t allowed, but just like the rooms above used for his residence, they were private. And she kept them that way. It just seemed wrong to venture into the places that were his when all it made her do was think of how it would feel if he would look at her with desire, as he did other women.

Laura looked back at the rows of CDs and let her gaze wander the titles. Charon had eclectic tastes. He loved hard rock, classical, soft rock, rap, and everything in between.

Last night she listened to Beethoven, and she was in the mood for something faster, something she could jam to while filing the mound of papers on her desk.

With a smile, she pulled out
Whitesnake’s Greatest Hits
and put the CD in the player. In seconds, the riffs of “Still of the Night” filled the room.

She kicked off her heels and sang as she picked up the stack of papers and walked to the filing cabinet behind her desk.

*   *   *

Charon watched the sun make its way across the sky. The bright ball of light turning from yellow to a huge orange sphere as it sank into the horizon, casting the clouds to shades of tangerine and lavender.

Even as the darkness began to descend, he wasn’t concerned about finding his way back. He knew the lay of the land like the back of his hand, and the god within him allowed him to see in the night as easily as he saw by day.

He wasn’t ready to leave the peace of the woods. It was stunning during the day, but once night fell, a different kind of beauty took hold. There had been many nights he’d slept under the stars, listening to the night.

Yet he knew the time had come for him to return. Slowly, he stood and after one last look at the valley, turned on his heel to make the trek back to town.

Before he could see his building, his enhanced hearing picked up the strings of music from the tavern as well as his nightclub next door. There was a third set of music. This one he knew came from his office.

Laura loved music, and he had given her access to his collection. Every day she picked something different. He had long ago stopped being surprised by her love of vastly diverse music. It nearly matched his own.

Her choices also told him how she was feeling on any particular day. There were days when he knew she was troubled by the slow, soulful melodies she chose. Whether she was in a somber mood from missing someone or just lonely, he didn’t know. And never asked.