Dark Carousel (Dark 26)

"She is safe and will be here soon," Tariq reminded, very gentle again. He stroked a caress along the back of her hand. "Breathe, sielamet; you have forgotten to take a breath. If you do not, I will have to do it for you."

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her entire body wanted to convulse with heat. How did he do that? She didn't respond to men, not with a terrible, almost brutal need that seemed to sweep through her with just his voice or the smallest of touches. It was crazy to be so completely attracted to a man when danger surrounded her and every move she made could be putting her niece and friend in even more peril. Deliberately she took a breath, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath the palm of her hand. Her breath followed his in the same way her heartbeat followed his.

"Thank you. If I didn't say that before, I'm saying it now, with tremendous gratitude. I was already terrified of that hideous man and afraid we might not be able to get away from him, but I had no clue he wasn't alone. He was afraid of you." She made the last a statement, wanting an explanation. If Fridrick was a serial killer, able to tear out throats and drain bodies of blood--which was too theatrical for words--and he was afraid of Tariq, what did that make Tariq Asenguard?

"We knew each other a long time ago. I've hunted him before. He's cunning and cruel and willing to sacrifice his friends in order to save his own hide. He respects me, but fear? I do not know if Fridrick is capable of feeling true fear. He wants to live, and he will retreat if he believes the odds are not in his favor. I had enough of my friends near, and when they showed up that tipped the scales against him. He wasn't willing to accept those odds or there might have been a bloodbath."

Fridrick had been afraid of Tariq no matter what spin Tariq put on it. That meant . . . Tariq was extremely dangerous, as every instinct she had screamed at her. She wasn't certain whether that was because he was dangerous to her heart, maybe even to her soul, certainly to her body--he could own her. She was certain if she ever gave in to the craving she was feeling for him, he would own her body and soul.

Charlotte looked around her at the high fence and the several houses. "Emeline is here?" Somehow knowing the woman she'd met in Paris was living on the property as well as the couple and children he'd taken in made her feel safer.

"Yes. She's staying in that little house over there." He indicated a two-story Victorian that looked beautiful even in the night. There were no lights on, but then it was three in the morning.

"You do not have to stay, Charlie," he said softly. "I am not holding you hostage, only offering you sanctuary until this is over. There is another house for Genevieve, you and Lourdes if you wish to take it. Tonight, the three of you are welcome to stay in the main house . . ." He turned and gestured toward the mansion. "As you can see there is plenty of room. In the morning, you can decide if you wish to stay longer and I can show you the other house. Maksim's property borders mine, and he guards as well. My friends are close and they will help to look after the safety of all the children as well as the two of you and Emeline."

He dropped her hand and stepped back, giving her space. Instantly she felt cold. Alone. Her body trembled as fear swept through her. He'd been holding all that at bay. She glanced at Genevieve, one eyebrow arched in inquiry. "What do you think, Vi?"

"I want to stay, Charlie," Genevieve admitted. "I'm so sick of being afraid all the time. It's beautiful here, and if we stay, I can't imagine Fridrick or those other three getting their hands on Lourdes or us."

Charlotte turned back to Tariq. "Then we thank you once again for this. We'd love to accept your offer of a place to stay." She wasn't going to commit to working for him, but she had to admit, the carousel horses were part of the draw. Mostly, it was Tariq. Still, staying close to him would be a danger in itself.

"It's settled then. Come with me, ladies. I'll show you the house, you can pick your rooms and then I can ask the police to come if you wish to speak to them tonight. I know a detective and I trust him. He would come immediately if I called." He stepped back to allow them to precede him.

"I should tell you those other three men may have followed us here, and they're just as dangerous as Fridrick. They've killed, too. I saw them drive a stake through the heart of a man and he was alive." Charlotte felt compelled to confess. "You have to know that if you allow us to stay here, those men might go after you. I don't know what they want or why they followed us from Paris, but I know they did."

Tariq's face was devoid of all expression. Lines were etched deep. He looked rugged and tough, but still as sophisticated as ever. Charlotte had to wonder how that was even possible. God, but he was gorgeous.

"Tell me about them."

"One is named Daniel Forester. When you called that young boy Danny, it reminded me. Mostly because Daniel made a big production about his name and how he didn't want anyone calling him Danny. His friends tweaked him a bit about that. He had two friends, Vince Tidwell and Bruce Van Hues, with him. I saw them as well at the murder scene."

"Where was this?"

She couldn't tell by his stony features, his cool eyes or his matter-of-fact voice if he even believed her. She wouldn't have believed anyone telling her such a thing without proof, especially after what she'd told him about Fridrick killing so many people. Thankfully, he knew Fridrick and had "hunted" him. What did that mean? She should have asked when she'd had the chance. It was such a strange word to use, especially for the owner of a nightclub.

She remained silent as they made their way along the stone walkway to the steps leading to the wraparound porch. There was no explaining that she "saw" Daniel Forester kill another human being by driving a stake through his heart while she held a cocktail glass in her hand. Tariq and the police would think she was the crazy one.

"I don't know where the murder took place, but it wasn't the only one." That made it worse. If Fridrick was a serial killer, then she was telling Tariq that there were two separate serial killers. She almost didn't believe herself.

"You do not know where the murder took place, but you know there was one. I take it you weren't there when it actually happened. Did someone tell you about it?"

"Of course not," Genevieve snapped, answering for her. Defending her. Getting her into even more trouble. "Sometimes Charlie 'sees' things. It's a gift. That's one of the reasons we went in for psychic testing. It may have been on a whim, but both of us have a

couple of very real gifts." Now she just sounded defiant. She glared at Tariq, daring him to dispute the possibility.

"So you do not have anything concrete to tell the police about these three men."

Tariq sounded as if he was talking to himself, not them. He didn't object or scoff at anything they said, and that was a relief to Charlotte. She hadn't realized until that moment that she really didn't want Tariq Asenguard to think she was crazy. He seemed to be taking them seriously. He'd admitted to having a gift or two of his own, so maybe that contributed to his believing them.

"No, not really. Not even with Fridrick. He admitted killing in Paris and again, here, with Charlie's brother," Genevieve answered, "but there's no proof. The best we can do is maybe point the cops in the right direction." She yawned and quickly tried to cover it. "I'm sorry. This is all very exhausting."

"Let me show you to a room. Enter of your own free will." Tariq held the door open for them courteously, using his old-world charm to let them pass first.

Charlotte glanced at him sharply, hesitating as Genevieve walked right in, even reaching for her as if to stop her. Genevieve was far too fast, moving quickly into the entryway and peering around her. Charlotte stood just outside the door, feeling the pull, the longing to go inside. A sanctuary of sorts, and somewhere, on this property, was her dream job of restoring very, very old wooden carousel horses. She'd seen the pictures, and she had longed to go with Ricard Beaudet to help restore them. She yearned to get her hands on them, to feel the life in them, the treasure trove of memories locked in the wood.

"Can I look around?" Genevieve asked.

"Of course. My home is yours. You are welcome to choose any room on the ground floor."

"Thanks. If I find one I like, I'm going straight to bed. I can barely stay awake. If I get up before you, Charlie, I'll take care of Lourdes."

"Thanks, Vi." They'd been trading off getting up with the little girl, and Lourdes already loved Genevieve, so Charlotte was grateful for the help.