Dark Flame (Flame 3)

Something else occurred to him. “You say this began five months ago? You mean around the time we met at the White Flame club?”

She tilted her head slightly. “The first time was that same night.”

Brannick knew he’d been a willing participant, and he knew why. The whole time he’d interviewed her, he’d been in a partial state of arousal.

He’d sat across from her in a booth. She’d sipped a mai-tai, while he’d worked on a scotch. He could even remember what she wore, a somewhat loose-fitting glittery black dress, not too different from the gauzy one she wore now, but made for clubbing. She didn’t seem to like snug clothes. Still, he’d thought her sexy as hell.

Nothing about her had been flirtatious, either. She hadn’t come to charm him, only to support the image of a couple on a date while he interviewed her. She’d kept the conversation serious and to the point. She wanted to help. Mary had been talking to her for weeks about joining the rescue operation and Juliet didn’t care that she’d be risking her life. She’d seen too many bad things in Revel Territory not to get involved.

After he’d made his assessment and welcomed her to the team, the conversation had shifted to their current lives and work. She was apprenticed to a woman named Agnes, a sage fae of great power, who served on the Board of Sages, which governed Revel Territory. Roche was on the same board and stonewalled most of the improvement projects the several good fae tried to move forward. No surprise there.

In turn, he’d told her about his work as a border patrol officer, the level of violence he faced every night and that he’d learned to carry a kit in his car to stitch up minor wounds. She’d asked what he considered a minor cut, and he said he measured it in inches—anything longer than a certain number and he’d head to the clinic to have a professional do the job.

Then she’d surprised him by offering a double-entendre about anything else he measured in inches and did he seek a professional to take care of that problem as well.

He’d been shocked at first. The woman had seemed so self-contained and somewhat prim. She didn’t even blush, though she did offer a smiling apology. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I was married to a great guy. We used to joke all the time.”

Of course, she’d looked away from Brannick at that point. Hurt had flashed in her eyes when she mentioned her husband, reminding him of the pain he’d suffered thirteen years ago when his wife had died. Jesus, sometimes, at the oddest moments and without warning, grief could come boiling to the surface.

Juliet had taken a big drink of her mai-tai and ordered a second. He’d done the same with his scotch. He should have left then and there, since he’d concluded his business with her, but dawn had still been a couple of hours away and he didn’t want to leave. Looking back, he realized his conversation with Juliet had been the first normal one with a woman in years, maybe since he’d come to Five Bridges.

“What are you thinking about?” The warm, musical quality of her voice brought him back to the present.

“About our conversation at the club, the night I met you for the first time.”

She inclined her head slowly, her lips parted. “I think about that sometimes as well. Of course my cheeks tend to warm up as I recall what I said to you. Do you remember?”

“Yeah. About what else I measured in inches.”

She smiled. “I’m still embarrassed.”

He caught her elbow in his hand. “I liked it. It felt so easy. But I was surprised because you didn’t seem like the type.”

“I guess I don’t.” Her smile grew crooked. “But I am.”

He continued to stare at her. He knew he was frowning harder than ever, but he couldn’t help it. He was trying to understand how he’d let this happen. He lived a controlled life, something necessary because of his simmering, ever-present rage about being an alter vampire.

Giving himself over to a dreamglider meant he’d had no control. So, why had he done it?

He searched her eyes, her face, looking for some kind of answer that she couldn’t possibly provide. He felt like he’d double-crossed himself and was now vulnerable in a situation that could easily spin out of control.

Finally, he let her go, then shoved a hand through his hair. “We should get out of here.”

“Yes, we should.”

He moved toward the door that led into the house and knocked quietly. His host, Carl, opened the door grim-faced no doubt because of the earlier unexpected visitor.

Brannick had already made his decision about what needed to be done for the host couple.

Carl led them into the family room. He moved off to the side of the sliding glass door, joining his wife. He slid an arm around her shoulders, then shook his head. “Sorry, Brannick, but we can’t do this anymore. It’s meant a lot to me and my wife that we could help these women, b

ut we won’t jeopardize our lives, not like this.”

Brannick lifted a hand. “Don’t worry about it, Carl. I hold to my word that if there was ever the smallest sign that your house was suspect, we’d be out of here, and that’s what’s happened tonight.

“I’ll have contractors here within the hour, sealing up the tunnel at your home’s exit point. They’ll build in the closet like we discussed, though they’ll dirty it up so it looks like it’s been there a while. We backfill the stairs with dirt and pack it in good. Even if someone tried to break through the closet, they wouldn’t get far. How does that sound?”

His wife burst into tears. Carl held her close. “Sounds real good. What about the van? Will you still wait to remove it?”