Deadly Desire

interference. Clever.'

His smile was cool and calculating. 'You're not finishing anything without me, wolf.'

And one look into his eyes made me realize he wasn't just talking about the case. A shudder that was half anticipation, half fear, rolled through me.

He put down his cue. 'I'll go book now, then see what I can do about the cameras.'

'Sounds like a plan.'

'Meet you there, then.' He walked away without a backward glance.

I let out a breath, then smiled at the eager young man who rushed to pick up the abandoned cue and who couldn't have been any older than nineteen. I played out the game, giving him lots of little touches and glimpses of breasts and butt, leaving him flushed and smelling of desire. But he didn't say anything about a dance-either private or lap-so I walked over to the bar.

'Any bookings come through on my card?' I asked the heavy-set bartender.

He pressed a couple of keys on the computer, then nodded. 'One for twelve in the Arabian room.'

Twelve was a good hour away, so either he was taking time to cool down, or it was going to take him longer than I'd thought to take out the cameras.

'That's it?'

'Yeah, it's been a pretty slow night, although the patrons are drinking well.'

Which was good for them, bad for the dancers. 'Thanks.'

He nodded and served another patron. I turned around, saw two guys playing at the table I'd evacuated, and headed over there to chat them up and keep an eye on the door.

The money men did go through with the hourly clearings, but I didn't get a glimpse of anything more than another corridor. I couldn't see a safe let alone private living accommodations.

But if these doors just led to vaults, then where was the sorceresses' den? It had to be here somewhere, if only because both women actually lived here. I couldn't imagine they'd want to be too far from their place of deep magic.

Just before midnight I headed down to change into my 'Arabian' costume, which consisted of a barely there bodice with filmy sleeves, and a skirt piece that consisted of detachable scarves that were gradually stripped away to reveal a tiny jeweled G-string. Then I reached into my bag and grabbed the remaining bottles of holy water, taping them under my breasts. Big boobs, I thought with a grin, certainly had their uses, but hiding little bottles under them had to be one of the more unusual ones. I closed my locker and walked down to the hall to the private rooms.

The Arabian room was probably my favorite of all the fantasy rooms. Scrumptious golden curtains lined the four walls and framed the ceiling, so that it felt like you were standing in some sultan's luxurious tent. The furnishings enhanced this feeling, mixing rich wood tones with gold paint and deep red fabrics. The carpet was thick, lush, and patterned-just perfect to walk barefoot in-and the air had a light rose and cinnamon scent.

Kye was standing in the middle of the room when I walked in, and said telepathically, So what do we do now?

Obviously, he trusted the paper-thin walls as much as I trusted him.

I closed and locked the door. We pretend to discuss what you want while actually talking about why were here. How long have we got before the cameras go down?

Ten past twelve. Thought it was safer to seem 'involved' when the lights go out.

I raised my eyebrows and said out loud, 'How long did you take the room for?'

'A full hour.' He gave me a wicked smile that would have blown my socks off had I been wearing any. 'You'd better be worth it.'

I smiled slowly, and flared my nostrils as his desire surged. Such a sweet, sweet scent. 'Why don't you take a seat on the chaise lounge, and we'll find out.'

'It looks rather skinny,' he said, barely even glancing at it.

'But it's perfect for what we need.' I added telepathically, 'And if you don't sit soon, they may think something is wrong.'

As he sat down, I muted the lights and turned up the music. With the erotic, exotic music filling the silence, I walked over and straddled the lounge-and him.

'Now I see why it's smaller.' A smile teased his luscious mouth as he lay back on the lounge and watched me with hungry eyes.

'It would be awfully hard to be sexy when a normal chaise lounge is considerably wider,' I agreed, and slowly began to move in time to the music, my dance as sensual and erotic as the music.

I was only straddling his legs at the moment, allowing him plenty of time to admire my body and movement. As the tempo of the music increased, so did mine. Little by little, I edged my way up his body toward his crotch.

'Can I ask a question?' he said after a while, his voice several tones huskier than normal.

So much for being unaffected. 'You can ask anything you want. Whether I answer is another matter.'

What those strange bulges under your bodice, or is that a trade secret?

I smiled. A woman has to keep her holy water somewhere close and safe, because you just never know when another hellhound is going to pop out at her.

He snorted softly. You really are a most intriguing woman, Riley Jenson. It's a shame you work for who you do.

And why is that? I shook loose one of the scarves and tossed it lightly at his face.

He caught it with a smile, his nostrils flaring as he drew in the scents on it. Because you and I would make a rather good team.

No, we wouldn't. Were totally different.

We're both killers, Riley, whether you like to admit it or not.

That may be true, but I kill to save others. You kill for profit.

You kill because you like the kill. Admit it.

I kill because I've learned the hard way that others suffer or die if I don't, I don't deny I enjoy the chase, but the kill? Never.

I don't believe you. You re too good at what you do for it not to be enjoyable.

I opened my mouth to refute his statement, but the words never came out because the room suddenly got colder.

Colder in an all too familiar way.

Goose bumps raced up my arms and I looked away from Kye, my gaze doing a sweep of the room. There was no smoke, no insubstantial wisps, hiding in any of the corners, and yet there was no mistaking the fierce chill that suddenly rode the air.

There was a soul here somewhere, and it wanted to speak.

'What the fuck?' Kye said, his head suddenly whipping toward the right corner.

There was no soul to be seen there, yet it did seem to be the main source of the chill.

But how the fuck was he sensing it?

I glanced at him sharply, briefly stopping the dance then forcing myself to keep going as I remembered the watching cameras. What do you feel?

I don't know. He frowned. It feels like death. Cold, cold death.

And he should know, having dished it out often enough.

How the fuck are you feeling that? I wanted to grab him and shake him-hard-and finally get some answers out of the damn man. He wasn't clairvoyant-hell, he even admitted to not being telepathic-and yet here he was, telepathic one day and clairvoyant the next. He might be listed as having no psychic talent, but something sure as hell was going on. And maybe, just maybe, I knew what it was. Have you got some weird ability to siphon the talents of others?

He glanced at me, and though his expression had suddenly gone blank, he gave a short, sharp nod.