Jameson came awake slowly, the scents of the night gradually filling his lungs and coaxing him away from the heavenly arms that held him in his dream. When he was half-awake, at just about the point where he'd decided he'd rather not wake up, he realized those arms were Angelica's. And those were her lips, and her soft moans he'd been playing in his mind all day. It made him angry that he couldn't control his mind while he slept. He wouldn't dream of her that way if he had a choice in the matter. Because it was too disappointing to wake to the harsh realization that she would never whisper the things to him in the realm of reality, that she did in the dreamworld.
He'd been resting against the cool stone wall. And he'd fallen asleep with Angelica close beside him. But as he wrestled himself more fully awake and turned to look at her, just to assure himself she wasn't truly as beautiful as his dream had painted her-though he knew full well she was-he didn't find her there.
She was gone. A tiny trill of alarm shivered up his spine, and he sat up straighter, blinking the sleep haze from his eyes.
"Good, you're awake," Roland said. "We need to get an early start if we're going to catch up to them before they have the child firmly installed in that building in White Plains." The others were up as well, Rhiannon brushing her long hair Tamara snuggling sleepily in Eric's arms.
"Not we," Jameson said softly. "I."
"Jamey-" Tamara began, sitting up straighter, but he cut her off.
"No, Tamara. I'm not willing to have you risking your lives for me anymore. You could have been killed.
And the risk is even greater now. They'll be furious that we escaped, and more determined than ever to kill us all." As he spoke his gaze kept darting toward the cave's entrance, but no sign of Angelica appeared there.
"Worried about her?" Rhiannon asked.
Jameson snapped his head around, met her mischievous black eyes. "Where is she?"
"She went out to scout the area. Said she wanted to be sure it was safe for us to emerge."
"She shouldn't be out there alone," Jameson said, and he started toward the entrance.
"Just what is going on between the two of you?" Tamara asked, and her tone suggested she might be thinking there was considerably more between them than there was.
"Don't start, Tamara," he said. "There's nothing between Angelica and me."
"Nothing but a baby," she countered.
"Oh, there's more than a baby," Rhiannon said, lifting her brows. "There's passion. The air practically crackles with it when they're close. And the way they look at each other." She smiled softly. "I think you love the girl, Jameson."
"Rhiannon," Roland warned, but she only smiled at him, and sent her knowing gaze right back to Jameson.
Hearing it stated aloud like that made him feel more miserable than ever. "Of course I don't love her," he snapped. He'd be a damned fool if he did, wouldn't he? Since he knew perfectly well she felt nothing for him. Nothing beyond the physical at least. "I feel nothing for the woman," he said.
A sound near the entrance brought his head around. Angelica's eyes met his, but she quickly looked away. There was no doubt in his mind she'd heard what he'd said. And for some reason, he sensed a shimmer of pain in her gaze. Ridiculous.
"I don't see any DPI men hiding in the trees," she said softly. A little too softly, in fact. "I think it's safe to venture out."
"Next time wait for me," Jameson told her.
Her violet eyes fixed on him, flashing with rebellion. "That's right. I'm still your prisoner, aren't I?
Forgive me for not asking permission before I went out of your sight. Foolish of me to think that saving your life would change things, wasn't it?"
"That's not what I meant-Angelica!" But she'd turned and hurried out of the cave again, leaving him there to wonder why she was so angry.
"Well done," Rhiannon said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Well done." He shrugged free of her touch and hurried out of the cave, stepping gratefully into the bracing coolness of the night. A chill autumn breeze snaked up his neck, eliciting a shiver. The moon was completely invisible tonight, obliterated by dark clouds that filled the entire sky. And the wind moaned and whistled in the pine boughs. He didn't see her at first. And then he spotted her, standing with her back to the cave, staring off into the forest. Her hair danced in the wind, long satiny fingers waving, crooking. As if to draw an unwary traveler close. As if to draw him close.
Stiffening his spine, he went to join her there, knowing full well he was letting himself fall victim to her silent allure. But then, that was what he'd been doing all along, wasn't it? Hell, he'd never been a man who found it easy to admit defeat. He stepped up behind her, standing very close. But she didn't acknowledge his presence. Didn't even look at him. It was a revelation, to know a woman who detested him so thoroughly. A new experience for him.
"I didn't mean that you needed to ask permission before leaving my side, Angelica. You know that. It's just that going out alone could be dangerous. I was concerned for your safety. That's all." And as he spoke he stepped up beside her. Still not touching her, though everything in him wanted to.
She slanted him a brief glance, but quickly returned to her contemplation of the forest. "Well I appreciate your concern, Vampire, but it's unwarranted. You may not have noticed, but I'm becoming quite adept at taking care of myself."
"I have noticed," he said. He scanned the surrounding trees, hoping to see what she found so interesting.
Seeing nothing unusual, he concluded she simply didn't want to look at him.
"I must have seemed like a pathetic wretch of a vampire to you," she said, her tone musing. "I've no idea why it took me so long to find myself again. But I assure you, Jameson, when I was mortal, I was never so needy or weak."
"I never thought you were weak."
She turned to him, facing him fully for the first time. "But I'm still your prisoner. Tell me, Vampire, do you really think it is still my intention to steal our daughter and take her away where you'll never find her?"
Her eyes were a pale lilac color in the centers, deepening to dark purple at the edges, glittering everywhere. "I don't know," he said, unable to look away. "Is it?" She blew air through clenched teeth, an exasperated sound, and turned away. "If it was, then why would I have come back for you? I could have left you there to die, and had my daughter all to myself when I found her."
"If you found her," he said. "As you pointed out, you'll have a far greater chance of getting her back with my help."
"And you believe that's the only reason I came back for you." She stated it flatly, neither confirming nor denying it.
"What else would you have me believe?" He leaned one shoulder against a sticky pine, folded his arms across his chest, and eyed her. She didn't care for him. Detested him. Had told him as much. It hurt that her desire for him disgusted her. It hurt far more than it should. "The lust between us is strong, Angelica, but I can't believe you risked your pretty neck just for the chance to have me again."
"You're an arrogant fool."
"Not so arrogant," he told her. "It runs both ways. You know that." He reached out, stroked the slender column of her throat with the backs of his fingers. Maybe...he just needed to make sure. Glutton for punishment, wasn't he? She slapped his hand away, but not before he'd felt the gentle shudder that worked through her. Yes, she still wanted him. And yes, she was still repulsed by it. He had his answer.
"Come along, lovebirds," Rhiannon called with barely concealed laughter in her voice. Jameson felt certain she'd witnessed that little slap. And it angered him all the more. "We need to get moving." He leaned in close to Angelica, and even before he spoke he knew that wounded pride was a dangerous thing. "It doesn't matter that my touch disgusts you, does it, Angel? We both know you crave it."
"Remind me of that when you touch me again and I'll tear the fingers from your hand, Vampire." And with those scathing words, she turned to join the others as they hiked through the forest.
No DPI forces surrounded the abandoned house where they'd left the car. So once again they all piled inside and started south. Their destination was DPI headquarters in White Plains. They knew that was where the bastards would have taken Amber Lily, and if it cost Jameson his life, he'd get the child back.
And once she was out of harm's way, he'd return there. To make the world a safe place for her.
They'd only traveled a bit more than ten miles, though, when they spotted a DPI van, and then several other cars with the familiar government emblem on their doors, all parked along the roadside, practically lining the tiny village of Petersville. Men in suits were knocking on doors, talking to people.
"What the hell is this?" Jameson whispered, as he slowed to a crawl, and drove carefully along the town's main street.
"Either they've decided to sell cosmetics as a sideline," Tamara said, "or they're doing a house-to-house search."
"For us?" Angelica asked, eyes widening.
"No." Rhiannon's comment drew all eyes, except for Jameson's. He kept his hopping between the road and the men who had apparently invaded the town. "We've never made a habit of seeking refuge in a mortal household," Rhiannon went on. "What earthly reason would they have to think we'd start now?" Jameson blinked. In the seat beside him, Angelica drew a trembling breath.
"The baby?" she whispered.
"Perhaps that guard wasn't lying when he said she'd disappeared," Roland offered.
"But that's impossible. Who would take her? And why, for God's sake?" Angelica's voice rose an octave, and Jameson knew panic when he heard it. "What kind of person would steal a baby from a parked car, while its drivers were busy changing a tire? What kind of sick, twisted person would-'"
"Angel." Jameson put his hand over hers, closed his around it, felt it trembling. It was odd the way he forgot his anger and frustration with the woman when he saw her upset. "Don't think the worst. We don't even know that's what this is. They might very well be searching for us."
"Keep driving, Jameson. We'll find out what's going on here in short order," Eric said. So Jameson drove. But he couldn't quite bring himself to release his hold on Angelica's hand. Before they got to the edge of town, though, he could see the roadblock set up farther along the road. A battered pickup truck ahead of him was stopped and then searched, its driver questioned.
Jameson looked around for another way out of town, but saw none. Stopping in the middle of the road would draw suspicion, and pulling a U-turn would likely get them all killed.
The hand he still held exerted gentle pressure, and when he looked at Angelica, she was nodding toward an oversize, modern log cabin at the very edge of town. It stood atop a small hill, with a long driveway leading up to it, and seemed set apart from the village proper. "There," Angelica said. "It looks empty.
Pull in the driveway and act as if we belong here."
"And what if it's not empty?" Why was it, he wondered, that he felt compelled to disagree with everything she said?
"Look, those scaffolds on the far side. And the roof. It's only partly shingled."
"She's right," Eric put in. "The place is still under construction. Pull in, Jameson, we don't have much of a choice in the matter."
Nodding his agreement, Jameson turned the car into the driveway, drove all the way to the house and then cut the engine. They sat silently at the cabin's feet, an elevated redwood deck stretching out above them.
"It's a beautiful house," Tamara said.
"It's nearly all windows," Rhiannon returned. "Foolish mortals and their damnable love of glass."
"We should go inside." Angelica sent a worried glance at the cars still blocking the road just south of town. "It will look suspicious if we just sit here."
"If we go all at once, and they see us..." Jameson bit his lip, to stop himself from disagreeing with her yet again.
"It's dark, Jameson," Rhiannon pointed out. "The moon is covered by clouds. They can barely see their own noses, let alone count heads from way down there." And since she was sitting beside one of the rear doors she opened it and got out. Roland and Tamara followed, and then Eric got out the passenger side in the front, extending a hand to Angelica. Always the gentleman, Jameson thought rather unkindly. But he got out as well. They trooped around the deck to the broad steps, mounted them, and entered the house from the deck through sliding glass doors. They'd been locked, but mortals had yet to develop a lock that could keep a vampire out.
Inside they were met by a broad cobblestone fireplace, with a glass face, a gleaming hardwood bar, wall-to-wall plush carpeting and a sofa, love seat and chairs that resembled fat brown teddy bears.
"This place is fabulous," Tamara said, sinking into one of the chairs. The thing seemed to hug her. "I wonder if the plumbing is finished? What I wouldn't give for a hot bath about now." Jameson stiffened. "You won't be staying that long." Tamara lifted her head, and eyebrows at the same time. "What do you mean? We can't very well go on, Jamey, with them blocking the road."
"You know damned well you can," he told her. "You just take to the woods, and skirt around them.
Borrow another vehicle south of town and continue from there." Roland tilted his head to one side. Eric crooked a brow. "What about you?"
"I'm staying," he said. "I'll stick around just long enough to find out what they're looking for. If it isn't my daughter, then I'll move on exactly the way you did."
"And go back to White Plains?" Eric asked.
He only nodded.
Tamara got up, pacing, running her hands over the crocheted afghan that was draped over the back of the sofa. "We'll all stay," she said, though it was obvious she knew he'd argue. "And then we'll leave together."
"Tam-"
"Jameson is right." It was Angelica who spoke, and they all turned to face her, with surprise in their eyes. "You're good friends, but you were already nearly killed in this search. I know you want to help us.
But think of what it would do to Jameson if one of you lost your life in the process. Think of how he would feel."
Grating his teeth, Eric nodded. Roland lowered his head. Even Rhiannon seemed resigned.
"There's time enough left tonight for you to get out of here," Jameson said. "I don't want you trapped in this town with DPI agents milling around like flies. I won't be here myself any longer than I have to." He saw Tamara's eyes moisten. But she nodded. "All right." she said. "I...I guess I'd feel the same way if I were in your place."
"You know damn well you would." He turned to Angelica, then, knowing the toughest battle would be this one.
"Don't even suggest it," she said.
He drew a deep breath. "I can find out what we need to know by myself," he said. "There's no need for us both to take the risk. Go with them. Meet me back in White Plains."
"And if Amber Lily is here? What then, Jameson? You might pass by her and not even realize it. No.
No, if you want me to leave you'll have to drag me out of here. Otherwise, I'm staying."
"Angelica-"
"I'm her mother," she said, staring at him with so much determination and fire in her eyes that he knew the fight was lost. "I have every right to be here. And here is where I'm staying." He closed his eyes, lowered his head.
Tamara came to him then, hugged him hard. "I love you, Jamey. Be careful. Please." He hugged her back. Then said his goodbyes to each of the others. He noticed, not for the first time, that they seemed just as reluctant to leave Angelica as they were to leave him. She had a way about her.
Worked right into a person's soul before he knew what the hell had hit him. Obviously, he wasn't the only one so beguiled by her magic.
Finally, the others slipped out the back and vanished into the forest's sheltering arms. Jameson watched them go, and then he paced. He needed a plan. He needed a solid, safe plan whereby he could find out what the hell was going on in this town without being seen. And without putting Angelica in danger.
But he was damned if he could think of any way to do it.
She sat on the sofa, her fingers absently toying with the afghan on its back. And he didn't like looking at her there, because he wanted her so much it was painful.
So he stalked into what would no doubt be the kitchen when finished. It was now no more than stark white wallboard with blotches of spackling compound in regular patterns. A stepladder stood in the room's center, with a painter's apron tossed over one rung.
He turned when Angelica came in behind him, knowing she was there even before he saw her.
"We can't just sit here," she told him. "We have to find out what they're searching for."
"And how do you suggest we do that, Angelica? Walk up to one of them and ask?"
"Not one of them, but one of the residents of the town. It should be a simple enough mission." She had the crocheted throw in her hands now. As he watched, she wrapped it around her like a shawl, complete with a hood that hid her hair.
"You're not going out there," he told her.
"They've seen you a lot more recently than they've seen me, Vampire. In fact, when I was held there, very few people ever saw me. Most of them wouldn't recognize me even without my little disguise. I'll walk back to that little shop we passed, on the pretense of buying something. It will be simple."
"No."
She came closer to him, put her hands on his upper arms. "Jameson, please. We have to do something. I can't just sit here, it's driving me crazy."
Jameson saw the desperation in her eyes. Dammit, he couldn't refuse her when she looked at him that way. What was wrong with him, anyway, that he found even the smudges on her face endearing? He sighed hard. "All right, if you insist on this, then I'll go with you." She rolled her eyes. "You shouldn't. You'd be too easily recognized, Vampire," she told him. "You told me yourself how often you've dealt with them."
But for once he was ready for her arguments. "I'll follow you. I'll keep to the shadows. No one will see me."
"And if they do, they'll think nothing of some dark stranger stalking a lone woman in the middle of the night," she said.
"My way or no way, Angel. I go with you or you don't go at all."
"While we argue over this, our daughter could be..." She closed her eyes, not finishing. "All right," she said. "You win." And she lifted her head to search his face.
He restrained himself from wiping a smear of dirt from her cheek. It wouldn't be wise to touch her just now, when she was looking so vulnerable...so beautiful. "Go on, got get cleaned up," he told her.
"You're sure to attract notice like that."
She looked down at her clothes as if she'd forgotten the state she was in. "Okay." He watched her go in search of a bathroom, listened to the sounds she made, the water splashing over her skin. She was quick, back in minutes, looking cleaner, but no less worried.
Not waiting for his permission, she walked past him, going back through the living room to the door they'd entered.
"Wait, Angelica," he said, hurrying after her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "If you're going on the pretense of buying something, you'll need cash. Here." He pressed several bills into her warm hand. Felt it shaking with anticipation of what she was about to learn. "Go slow," he warned, "and keep your head down. Be careful, Angelica. I'll be close by if you need me." She met his eyes, held them for one long moment, and he thought she might have wanted to say something. But then she seemed to change her mind. She turned, and hurried out the door.
Jameson turned in a slow circle, pushing his hands through his hair. He didn't like what he was feeling.
Didn't like it a bit, and didn't want to think about it. Not now, when he had to focus everything in him on finding his daughter. But soon. Soon he was going to have to come to grips with this thing that seemed to have taken possession of his very being.
Soon. Right now, he had an angel to follow.
I knew he'd kept his promise to follow me. I could feel the infuriating man, close to me, wherever I went, though I never once saw him. I glanced behind me often. I felt him close. But he seemed invisible.
The store was not far away. I found it easily, and thanked my stars that it was still open. Though nearly deserted. It seemed most people in this town had taken to their homes early tonight. Likely these troops of inquisitive government agents had frightened them half to death. The place was one large room, cluttered with bric-a-brac and snack foods. A bell over the door tinkled merrily as I stepped in from beneath an old-fashioned red-and-white-striped awning.
"Hello," a friendly, male voice said, and I looked up, startled. But it was only the man who stood behind the counter, and his eyes held no malice. His head was shiny pink, with not a hair to be found, and he wore rectangular bifocals low on his nose. "Can I help you find something?"
"Do you have postcards?" I asked, trying to keep any hint of fear from my voice. The shop smelled of fresh coffee, and peppermint sticks.
"Sure do." He came around the counter and led me to a rotating rack filled to overflowing with scenic postcards. "Lookin' for anything in particular?"
"I'll know it when I see it," I said with a tight-lipped smile. And I began scanning the cards as if in search of just the right one.
"So you're a tourist. Didn't think I recognized you."
"Yes, just passing through." I pulled a card with a photo of trees and mountains and blue sky. "Seems I picked a bad time to visit here," I said. "Judging by the roadblocks and those men roaming the town.
Was there a prison break or something nearby?"
The man shook his head, clucking like a hen as I handed him the card and he headed back to the register. "Crying shame, is what it is. What the world's coming to, I'll never know." He punched buttons and the register chimed. The drawer slid open. I handed him a dollar bill.
"What happened?" I ventured.
He shook his head again. "Kidnapping," he said. "Some young couple was traveling just north of town, and had a flat. Got out to change the tire, and when they got back in, their little baby daughter was gone.
Someone snatched her, right outta that car."
I lost my breath. My God, could what that guard have said been true? My baby had been stolen from me by DPI, and then stolen from them by...by whom?
"I know," he said, shaking his head. "It's a terrible thing. Can't believe it could happen right here in Petersville. Never had anything like this happen around here before. Goddamn perverts oughtta be shot." I caught my breath, tried to speak. "What are they doing to find the baby?"
"Well, they've got a roadblock set up south of town. Checking every vehicle that passes. They got search parties goin' through the woods, and more men going door to door askin' questions. Personally, I don't think it's gonna do 'em any good. One of those kind gets hold of a child...well, they rarely find
'em. Alive, anyway."
I braced my hands on the counter to keep my knees from buckling. "Alive?"
"Them kind usually go for the older kids. Can't imagine what they'd want with a little one like that. Sick sons-a-bitches." He dug for change and closed the drawer. "Here you are, miss." I held out my hand for the chilled coins. "Thank you," I muttered and turned to go.
"Don't forget your postcard," he called, and I turned back again. The card still lay on the counter. I picked it up, but I knew my hands were shaking badly. "You have a nice trip, now," he called as I left the shop. I only nodded, and stepped outside.
