Dark Lover(64)

"Ah, not right now."

"Where are you going?"

"I have a date."

"With whom?"

She met his eyes with such deliberate calmness, he knew the next thing she said was going to be a lie.

"No one special."

Yeah, right.

"What happened to the man last night, Beth? Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

Her eyes never wavered from his. "If you'll excuse me-"

He gripped her arm. "Do not go to him."

The low sound of an engine filled the silence between them. A large black Mercedes with tinted windows pulled up. Real drug-lord time.

"Ah, fuck, Beth." He squeezed her arm, desperate to get her attention. "Don't do this. You're aiding and abetting a suspect."

"Let go of me, Butch."

"He's dangerous."

"And you aren't?"

He dropped his hold.

"Tomorrow," she said, stepping back. "We'll talk tomorrow. Meet me here after work."

Getting frantic, he put his body in her path. "Beth, I can't let you-"

"Are you going to arrest me?"

Not as a cop, he couldn't. Not unless he was reinstated to the force.

"No. I won't take you in."

"Thank you."

"I'm not doing it as a favor," he said bitterly as she walked around him. "Beth, please."

She paused. "Nothing is as it seems."

"I don't know. I've got a pretty fucking clear picture. You're protecting a killer, and there's a serious chance you're going to get stuffed into a pine box. Do you understand what this guy is? I've seen his face up close. When his hand was around my neck and he was squeezing the life right out of me. A man like that has murder in his blood. It's his nature. How can you go to him? Hell, how can you let him walk the streets?"

"He's not like that."

But the words were phrased as a question.

The car door opened, and a little old man in a tuxedo got out.

"Mistress, is there a difficulty?" the man asked her solicitously, while at the same time shooting Butch the evil eye.

"No, Fritz. No problem." She smiled, but it was a shaky one. "Tomorrow, Butch."

"If you live that long."

She paled, but rushed down the stairs, sliding into the car.

After a moment Butch got into his. And trailed them.



When Havers heard footsteps coming toward the dining room, he looked up from his plate with a frown. He'd been hoping to make it through his meal without an interruption.

But it wasn't one or the doggen coming in with news that a patient had arrived to be treated.

"Marissa!" He rose from his chair.

She marshaled a smile for him. "I thought I would come down. I'm tired of spending so much time in my room."

"I'm very pleased to have your company."

As she came up to the table, he pulled out her chair. He was happy that he'd insisted her place was always set, even after he'd lost hope she would join him. And tonight it seemed as though she was making an effort with more than just coming to eat. She was wearing a beautiful dress made of black silk that had a jacket with a stiff, stand-up collar. Her hair was down around her shoulders, flashing spun gold in the candlelight. She looked lovely, and he felt a flush of animosity. It was a total insult that Wrath couldn't appreciate all she had to offer, that this exquisite female of noble blood was not good enough for him.

Other than for use as a feeding trough.

"How is your work?" she asked as she was served wine by one doggen. A plate of food was set in front of her by another. "Thank you, Phillip. Karolyn, this looks wonderful."

She picked up a fork and gently prodded the roast beef.

Good heavens, Havers thought. This was almost normal.

"My work? Fine. Actually better than fine. As I mentioned, I've had a bit of a breakthrough. Feeding may soon be a thing of the past." He lifted his glass and drank. The burgundy should have been a perfect accompaniment to the beef, but it tasted off to him. Everything on his plate was sour on his tongue as well. "I transfused myself with stored blood this afternoon, and I feel fine."

Actually, that was a bit of an overstatement. He didn't feel sick, but something wasn't right. That normal rush of strength had yet to hit him.

"Oh, Havers," she said softly. "You still miss Evangaline, don't you?"

"Painfully. And the drinking is simply not… agreeable to me."

No, he would no longer stay alive the old-fashioned way. From now on it would be clinical. A sterilized needle in his arm, hooking him up to a bag.

I'm so very sorry, Marissa said.

Havers reached out, laying his palm faceup on the table. "Thank you."

She put her hand in his. "And I'm sorry that I've been so… preoccupied. But it will be better now."