Tempting Whispers: The Kategan Alphas 6 (12 page)

A shadow appeared in the doorway. Some
instinct inside made her freeze, as if by not moving, the shadow wouldn’t be
able to see her and would go away. The thick-paned glass showed no features,
only the figure of a man. The hairs at the back of her neck stood on end and
her stomach muscles bunched hard like she was about to take a hit. She dared
not even take a breath.

It could be him
.

The figure turned to face the door and
she sucked in a breath. She already knew what would happen next. The door would
open and Joseph’s stocky face would be there with his angry dark eyes and hard
fists. The head of the figure moved as if searching inside the office or
reading the label on the door which read: Justicar Brayden Erickson. The figure
might have stood there for only a few seconds, but it felt as though time had
stilled. She wanted to leap from her seat and switch the light off, but then
whoever it was would know someone was in there for sure. She wanted to turn the
small lock on the handle, but she couldn’t move. She sat rooted in place in
fear.

Then the figure turned and kept walking
down the hall. Only then did she release the breath she’d been holding.

The door swung open and she screamed.
Brayden eyed her curiously; he had a thick manila envelope in his hands. He
checked her from head to toe, then closed the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. “Nothing.
Just freaking myself out, I think.”

His gaze fell down, left her eyes. “You
can stop gripping the chair like you’re trying to strangle it now.”

Startled, she looked down to find what
he saw. She had a death grip on the arms of the chair. Slowly, she uncurled her
fingers, but then they felt empty so she grabbed her can of soda two-handed and
drank it. The taste fell flat and lifeless on her tongue.

He moved around her and took a seat at
his desk. She didn’t even watch him move, just heard his soft steps on the
carpet floor. Her gaze stay glued to the thick-paned glass, which made
everything on the outside look milky and blurred, sinister.

“Vanessa.”

She jumped, then looked at him. She
hated the look on his face. The concern. It made her feel like a crazy person
whom he couldn’t dare leave alone for a minute without doing something nutty.

“Yeah?”

“Just give me a minute and I’ll get you
out of here. You’re safe with me. You know that, right?”

She took a deep breath and let it out.
The man had tracked down kidnappers just to save her. He’d killed them with his
freaking
hands
. Yes, she knew he could be dangerous, and yes she
trusted, so she nodded.

What she soon realized as she crossed
her legs into an Indian-style position was that Brayden’s sense of time was way
off. He poured over papers, his brow furrowed deep, occasionally scribbling
down notes in a small black notebook as the hour hand on the clock on the wall
ticked by. He didn’t speak. He didn’t even make a sound except when he flipped
a page over or tucked it behind the rest of the stack.

Her skin felt itchy. She couldn’t stop
scratching her nails across her arms. Pink lines had already started to appear
across her forearms like she’d been under some kind of animal attack. Every few
seconds or so, it seemed, she found herself staring at that door waiting to see
if the figure would appear again. But it didn’t. He didn’t.

Seething inside, she scrubbed a hand
through her hair and tugged until the strands pulled along her scalp nearing
the point of pain—then she pulled harder until spikes of pain exploded along
her skull. Her heart rate calmed then and her body relaxed, some.

Sighing, she looked back at Brayden and
found him staring intently at her. A flush came over her. Had he just seen her
childish little tug-of-hair bit? His eyes flicked up to her hair and she
gulped. Yes, yes he did.

“All right, let’s get out of here.”

She was out of her seat and waiting at
the door in a flash. “God, I feel like I’ve been cramped up in here all day.”
Looking back at the clock, she moaned. More like three hours. Brayden’s sense
of timing was
way
off.

He shoved the files back into the folder
then led her out of the office. She glanced behind them but found only an empty
hall with shiny white floors that looked freshly cleaned and buffed. No
mysterious man waiting for her at the end of the hallway.

Cool air greeted her outside. It felt
like a breath of fresh air after the stifling pounding of the A/C unit in the
office. “Did you find out anything interesting?” she asked.

He didn’t answer for a moment. At the
SUV parked in the lot, he opened her door and let her climb in. Only after he
climbed in and took off did he answer. “The first car that hit Daniel was a hit
and run. It happened late last night. Two witnesses saw it happen, but said it
was too dark to get a license plate number. Only recalled that it was a ‘dark
car’. The second car that hit him had been an accident from all accounts. The
woman who’d done it is human with a husband, small house, and four kids.
Paperwork says she slammed on the brakes as soon as she saw Daniel get hit. But
the car who hit him sped off fast, and even hitting her brakes, it wasn’t
enough to stop her in time. She ran him over.”

Vanessa’s stomach rolled with a curling
queasiness. “God, that’s awful. That poor woman.”

“Reports said they had a hard time
talking to her. She was nearly incoherent from crying. We’ll go have a talk
with her soon.”

Vanessa's gaze slammed to his. “Say
what? Why? After what she went through?”

He nodded and his voice grew harder. “Yes,
we have to. Or rather, I have to. I need to talk to her myself. What kind of
food do you like?” he asked.

The quick change of topic sent her
fumbling. “Um, Mexican is pretty great.”

He nodded. A few minutes later, he
pulled into a brightly lit and colorful restaurant. A folksy trumpet blared an uppity
beat over the speakers outside. The aromas of spicy meat, corn, and flour
instantly brought a smile to her a face and a growl to her stomach.

“Do you think he’s trying to cover this
whole thing up since you’re looking into it?”

He grabbed her hand making her stomach
clench with something warm and exciting. His was so much bigger, stronger than
her. His palms were slightly coarse, his skin not quite as warm as hers, but
still warm enough she’d like to cuddle against him and just let him hold her.
Her stomach dancing with excited nerves when he threaded their fingers
together. When his thumb made a pass across hers, her breath stuttered.

“That’s exactly what he’s doing.”

An hour later, she was fed. No, stuffed
more like, with refried beans, chicken and beef enchiladas and a lot of extra guacamole
and cheese. She’d even ordered a strawberry margarita under Brayden’s warning
eyes. She’d hesitated, but ordered it anyway. She had one life to live, might
as well live it up. And, by God, did she make the right choice. That margarita
was delicious! She finished the whole thing while gobbling up her enchiladas in
record time.

“Oh, my God, thisish sogood,” she
mumbled with a mouth full of food.

Brayden watched her but didn’t say
anything. With the last bite gone, she fell back in the padded seat and pressed
a hand to her belly. Amazing, but apparently food had the ability to make everything
seem so much better than it really was. Like she was under some kind of food
high, because she couldn’t help smiling at Brayden. Her shoulders sagged,
beyond relaxed, and her whole body had the lithe, puddingy feeling to it, like
she had too much water in her.

“I feel great.”

“That’s the alcohol speaking.”

She leaned an elbow on the table,
grinning madly and rested her chin on her hand. She loved the two points at the
top of his lip, the long path of his nose. “Oh, really? And it doesn’t happen
to be because I just ate the best enchiladas ever?”

He didn’t crack a smile. “I’m sure they
tasted good, but no, it’s the alcohol. The margaritas here are somewhat famous
for having a good bit of alcohol in them.”

She closed her eyes and slumped in her
seat. “Mmm and damn good, too.”

She must have had her eyes closed for
more than just a second. A warm hand curled around her shoulder, and a finger
slipped across her collarbone in a single caress. Her eyes jerked open, then up
to find Brayden there. And she’d never heard him move.

“Come on, it’s time to get out of here.”

She took his hand so he could help her
up, which was good, because apparently she needed it. The room spun a full
180-degrees before it settled back again. And she could still feel his touch on
her bare skin, minutes after he paid and tugged her out of the restaurant. She hopped
into the car, bouncing in her seat with her hands tucked under her thighs.
Brayden’s big body curled in next to her and she wished there wasn’t a console
separating them. A pretty night like this, with good food and booze in her
belly, she wanted to curl up against him with his arm wrapped around her
shoulders and her head on his shoulder and just drive.

Of course, that was crazy thinking. They
took off down the road with him firmly stuck in his seat, minus the seatbelt,
and her firmly in hers, plus seatbelt. Lykaens could take a good beating, but
they weren’t as impermeable to damage as vampires were. They lived long lives
if some untimely death didn’t catch them, but even they needed seatbelts. A
shiver raced through her. Her cousins had seen just how fast a car crash could
steal life away when they lost their parents.

“I’m calling your father in the morning,
then we’ll go see the human from the accident.” He flicked a glance at her and
his brows pulled low. “Why are you staring at me?”

She laughed; okay, maybe it was more of
a giggle. She tucked her left leg up under her right one then turned in her
seat with her back to the door. “I was just thinking how your beard grows in
fast. You’d just shaved it and already stubble is coming back.” He looked real
good with that bit of stubble.

He ran a hand across his cheek as if to
confirm this, then shrugged. “Guess it does.”

“I like it.” Maybe it was the way she
said it, which may have been breathless, or the fact that she leaned forward in
her seat toward him, but he shot her a look so hot she almost moaned. That wasn’t
even a lie; she almost actually moaned at the look. A look that said he could
tear off her clothes and be inside her in less than thirty seconds if he wanted
to right now. And that he really did want to.

Her heart pounded way too hard and fast.
She pressed her hand to it and took a deep breath. Only after his gaze returned
to the road did her heartbeat return to normal. But the evidence of his
scathing look still lingered with her, in her wet panties.

“What happened in the office?” he asked.

God, she really didn’t want to talk
about that. She still didn’t know if it’d been her overactive imagination or
really Joseph. It could have just been another Justicar looking for Brayden, or
the janitor walking down the hall.
But then, what had made me so scared?
She screwed her eyes shut and expelled those thoughts. Joseph wasn’t going to
ruin her good mood or any more of her life. She’d already let him do that for
two years. No more.

“Nothing, just let myself get spooked.
You know, I think you’re one of the few men who’d look really hot with a beard.
I’m not talking ZZ Top beards, but a short one.” She sighed as the picture of
him with a crisp, short beard came to mind. Yup, hot shit.

He didn’t say anything, and a little
while later they pulled under the detached garage port. He let her in the house
then headed to his office, manila envelope tucked under his arm, without a word.
Well, that was that, she guessed. Did her hot beard comment set him off or
something?

She must be stupid, or at the very
least, overly emotional, because when he closed the door without a word, her
heart actually felt squeezing pressure over it like some weight sat on her
chest. Yup, it was stupid and silly, but it hurt her feelings. Cursing him with
every bad name she knew, she treaded up the stairs and stopped at the hallway
to her door. Actually, it felt like something stopped her, some instinct. She stared
at her door, thinking through slow alcohol-muddled thoughts, then it hit her.
When they’d left that morning, she hadn’t closed her door, but it was firmly
shut now. A soft laugh escaped her. Gail must have been up here cleaning.

She let out a deep breath then opened
the door. She hit the light, but didn’t go inside as her narrowed eyes surveyed
the room. Empty, nothing. Her bed had been made and some of the clothes must
have been washed because they were stacked neatly and folded on her dresser.

“God I need a shower,” she mumbled and
headed for the dresser. She found even more clothes in the dresser drawers all
smelling of lovely fresh lavender and folded into little squares. She had to
remember to thank Gail, because she’d done
all
of her laundry, even
washed the new clothes she’d just bought. Okay, that
Brayden
just
bought.