“Nothing…yet. But we have to leave. Now.”
A fist pounded on the door.
Too late.
Roz glanced from Maria to the door, her mind working furiously. What to do? Go hide under the bed and pretend they weren’t here? Or let them in and plead ignorance?
Much as she liked the hiding under the bed option, she wasn’t sure they would take the hint and go away. No, she’d have to call their bluff. She peered down at herself and for the first time ever, wished she were wearing the habit. Did she have time to put it on?
The knock came again, louder. More insistent.
“Just a minute,” she shouted toward the door. “Maria, get in your room and don’t come out unless I say.”
“What is it? Are they back? Is it the man from the convent?”
“No. I think it’s the people we met in London. They’ve probably just got a few more questions for us. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ll deal with it.”
Christ, she was a good liar.
But Maria’s face cleared of the panic, and she nodded. As she disappeared into her bedroom, Roz ran for her own, stripping off her clothes as she went. She dragged the dreaded habit out of the bin—again—and tugged it on over her panties and bra—no time for nun-like underwear. They were banging at the door again—no time for the headdress either—but then she wasn’t likely to have been wearing that in bed anyway. This would have to do. She still had her heeled boots on as well, but as long as they didn’t peek under her habit, no one should notice. And no one was going to peek under her habit. Were they?
She ran a hand through her hair and gave herself a quick glance in the mirror on her way out. Shit, she was wearing makeup—what sort of nun wore make-up to bed? Maybe they wouldn’t notice. Maybe they didn’t know anything about nuns. Except Asmodai had said Piers had had a thing for nuns. The pervert.
Taking a deep breath, she walked slowly to the door. When she opened it, Piers had his hand raised to bang again.
She faked a yawn, covering her face with her hand. “Mr. Lamont? It’s the middle of the night. What are you doing here?”
He stared down at her. A long way down—why did he have to be so tall? Or rather, why did she have to be so short? His eyes narrowed as he examined her small, bristling figure.
“What?” she said belligerently. She took another deep breath—belligerence was not going to help right now. “How can I help you?” she said, her tone conciliatory.
“Sister Rosa, have we caught you at a bad time?” It wasn’t Piers, but the man behind him who spoke, his tone tinged with amusement. It was Christian Roth,
“Yes,” she snapped. “I don’t suppose you’d consider going away. Perhaps you could come back in the morning.” Yeah right, like that was going to happen. The blood-suckers would be tucked up in their coffins by then.
Piers stepped to the door but hesitated, a frown forming on his face. “Invite me in,” he growled.
For a brief moment, she considered ignoring the request. Weren’t vampires supposed to be unable to enter a home without an invitation? But she had no proof that the two other men were even vampires—there would be nothing to stop them breaking down her door, and she didn’t want things to get nasty. She’d bluffed her way out of bad situations before. She could do it again. Maybe.
“Come in,” she said grudgingly and stepped aside.
Piers strode by her, followed by Christian, who gave her a grin as he passed—she was glad someone was finding this amusing. But the expression settled her nerves a little. The two other men stayed out in the hallway. She followed Piers into the living room and studied him while he looked around.
“Go check if there’s anyone else here,” he said to Christian.
Christian nodded and started opening the doors to the other rooms. She had her back to him but she knew when he reached Maria’s because there was a little squeak. Quite restrained, really.
Roz whirled around as Christian appeared in the doorway, his hand around Maria’s upper arm as he ushered her into the living area.
“Roz, what’s happening?” Maria sounded close to panic.
“Hey, leave her alone,” Roz said. “She’s a goddamn nun.”
Piers’ eyes narrowed on her. “Is she?” His gaze left her to drift down over Roz in her habit. She glanced down and realized that half the buttons were undone, revealing the black lace of her bra. She pulled the edges together and glared at him even as the heat flushed through her. Was he still hungry? She felt a twinge of pleasure in her belly at the memory of what he’d done to her. How it had made her feel.
“And what about you, Sister Rosa?” he murmured. “Or is it Roz?”
She pursed her lips. “What about me? I may be having a brief crisis of faith right now, but Maria’s the real thing, so leave her alone.”
Christian released her.
“Go sit on the sofa,” Roz said. “These…gentlemen will be gone in a few minutes.”
“Don’t count on it,” Piers muttered.
She strolled across the room and picked up her mug of coffee, took a sip, tried to appear nonchalant. “So what brings you here? Barging in on two poor defenseless women in the middle of the night.”
“I want to know why you lied.”
“About what?”
“You told us you were going to the mother house.”
“So? Is that a crime? We are going to the mother house… tomorrow. It’s in Devon, and we were too tired. They keep this apartment for any of the sisters who have to stay in London.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She didn’t blame him; it was a pathetic story.
“You might as well tell us now. We have ways of making you talk.”
Roz rolled her eyes. “I don’t believe you just said that. That is so corny.”
“Maybe so, but it’s also true. Why don’t you sit down with your friend over there and we’ll be with you in a minute.”
Roz plunked herself down on the sofa and glared as Piers and Christian started a methodical search of the place. She was so glad she had given Ryan the Key.
Maria’s hand slid into hers, and she clutched tight at her fingers. Roz gave her a reassuring squeeze and tried to think what her next move should be. At least she’d contacted Shera—so Asmodai would hopefully guess she had his Key. If he believed that, he might make some effort to get her out of the Order’s clutches before they found out what she was and killed her.
Could they find out? A flicker of excitement burst into life deep inside her. What was she? Piers had said she had fae blood—but what did that mean? Maybe he would tell her before he killed her. Despite the danger, she felt as though she was on the edge of something wildly exhilarating.
Piers had vanished into her bedroom. Christ, was he searching in there? She was trying not to think about what he might find when he appeared at the door, a smirk on his face, her vibrator clutched in his hand. For a second, she closed her eyes. Unfortunately, when she opened them, he was still there.
“Now what would a nun do with this?” he asked.
“One of the sisters must have left it. The spirit is strong but the flesh is often weak, Mr. Lamont. We shouldn’t judge others.”
“And why was your hat in the bin?”
Her horrible headdress was dangling from his other hand. “I must have dropped it in my hurry to answer the door.” She kept her tone serene, but it was an effort, and he didn’t look convinced.
Her eyes narrowed as he put the vibrator into the inside pocket of his jacket and tossed the headdress back in the bin before disappearing into her bedroom. A second later, he emerged waving the file on Jessica Thomas, and she swore under her breath.
