He looked at her and nodded toward the post, holding the flashlight steady, and she stepped warily in beside him to look.
She saw scratches in the post, light marks where the wood had been scraped.
“What…?” she started, and then she had a sinking feeling she understood.
“Handcuffs,” Mick said tightly.
“What does that…?”
“It means he did have a kid here with him. The scratches are fresh, and the evidence fits with Mayo’s…proclivities.”
Barrie was opening her mouth to demand how he knew, when suddenly they both froze at the sound of the door opening in the outer room.
A male voice called from the living room, “Who’s in here?”
Mick killed the flashlight and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the closet. He silently hustled her inside, edging the door closed behind them. The closet was large, empty except for two plush terry-cloth spa robes hanging from the bar, an ironing board clipped to a rack and a shelf of spare pillows and blankets. He pulled her back against the wall and up against his side, behind the robes. Not enough cover by any means; if whoever was outside opened the closet door they would be discovered.
Barrie’s heart was pounding, and she could feel Mick’s heart beating the same fast tattoo beside her. He still had hold of her hand and even through her fear she was wildly aware of his body against hers, long, hard muscles and a faint musky cologne that only enhanced his purely intoxicating male scent. Barrie was faint with terror, adrenaline and a sudden, unwanted desire.
Footsteps approached on the hardwood floor. Whoever had been outside was in the bedroom now. A crack of light suddenly appeared under the closet door.
Barrie’s eyes widened, and Mick put his fingers over her mouth, locking his eyes on hers, willing her to be still.
Whoever was outside was silent, but she could feel his presence, hovering…and at the same time she was roiling inside from the touch of Mick’s fingers…her insides seemed molten.
Then the steps retreated and the crack of light under the closet door went dark.
Barrie breathed shallowly and silently, straining to hear. Someone just checking the room? Were they gone? Mick’s eyes were fixed on hers, and she felt a surge of relief…and attraction so strong her legs buckled underneath her.
Suddenly his arm was around her waist and he was leaning down to kiss her. Not a light brush of the lips this time, but a full-on, hungry, demanding kiss. Barrie gasped, shocked and terrified, but unable to push him away or protest. And then as his mouth opened hers and his hands moved on her waist, she didn’t want to protest; she was kissing him back, silently, greedily devouring him, biting his lips, her own hands slipping under his jacket, pulling up his shirt, to find hot, smooth skin. His hard stomach jumped as she stroked his skin, her hand moving lower… . His fingers were on her throat, and his tongue surged against hers, thrusting deeper.
She felt her body melting into his, opening herself to the hardness of his sex and thighs as he pressed her against the closet wall and kissed her neck, licking the hollow of her throat. her breasts were full in his hands, her nipples taut against his palms, and she wrapped her leg around his, and he lifted her hips so she could feel him hard and wanting, moving against her…seeking, straining through the fabric of their clothing… .
Barrie was breathing shallowly, aching to have him inside her. He pulled down the zip of her hoodie and bent to tongue her nipples through the thin cloth of her tank top, and she breathed into his ear, “Please…please…” and she didn’t know if she was saying please yes or please no…
And then terror overcame lust and she managed to push him away and they stood panting in the darkness.
In silence.
“He’s gone,” she said in a small voice.
Mick stepped forward, his face taut with desire. “Come here,” he said roughly, and reached for her again. She gasped and ducked and fled through the dark bungalow and into the night.
Driving was a challenge; her whole body was vibrating from Mick’s kisses, his maddening touches, the feel of his body hard on hers… . She was so weak with thwarted desire she could barely concentrate on the road.
But even in her confused—and aroused—state, she couldn’t rest until she swung back by the morgue to see Brandt.
From the time she was young, Barrie had been instructed never to speak of Keeper business on the phone or in email or a text; you never knew what conversation might be picked up in these zero-privacy days. She and her cousins had developed their own language to use if they needed to use the phone, and they had a code word they changed every week that clued the others in to a Keeper-related message. There was a whole set of codes used by Keepers and Others. But she needed to see Brandt to ask him a question she didn’t dare ask on the phone, even in code.
Five minutes in and out, and she had her answer.
Tiger’s tox screen had showed the same lethal combination of heroin, cocaine and belladonna as Saul Mayo’s.
Chapter 4
Barrie finally made it back to the canyon about dawn. the hills were bathed with rose-gold light, and the traf-fic…well, okay, the traffic had started hours ago, in the predawn dark, but she turned up the road toward the House of the Rising Sun, the compound she shared with her cousins, before the real gridlock kicked in.
She’d managed to curb the obsessive random images of sex with Mick in every conceivable position…by getting angry.
I don’t even know him. He doesn’t know me. And, okay, that was probably just the desk clerk outside the closet door, checking up on the room because he saw the light. But what if it wasn’t? Of all the stupid, dangerous, inappropriate things to do…
Her inner rant was momentarily silenced by another full-body flashback of Mick kissing her while he slowly ground his hard and oh-so-enticing length between her thighs… .
Stop it.
She clenched her fingers on the steering wheel and stared hard out the windshield to focus…and realized she was home.
The House of the Rising Sun—really a set of three houses—was protected by a tall stone wall that encircled it on multiple levels. She buzzed open the massive electric gate with a remote, and it swung wide to allow entry to the haunting drive, revealing the beautiful stone facades of the houses. Each of the cousins had her own, all part of the estate that had been left to their grandfather by his friend Merlin the Great: magician extraordinaire, aka Ivan Schwartz. The senior Gryffalds had passed the houses on to their three Keeper sons; Barrie had grown up in the house called Gwydion’s Cave, after a mythological Welsh magician. And now that their fathers had been called to council, the international gathering of Keepers, the three houses belonged to the three cousins.
Barrie parked her car in the circle and walked through the pool area with its gazebo and jasmine-covered trellises toward the Cave, as she thought of it.
The pool brought on another very unwelcome flashback of the dark sensuality of the Chateau and the feeling of Mick’s hands on her skin, her breasts… .
Stop it.
Barrie ran the last steps to her door and flung it open. Inside, she slammed the door behind her and had at least a moment of peace as she let herself relax in the familiar luxury of home.
Gwydion’s Cave was decorated with old peacock fans, marble pieces, antique mirrors and rich remnants of decadence from the days of the speakeasies. There was even a Victrola with a collection of recordings of the bawdiest songs from the 1920s.
It was a period Barrie especially vibrated to, a time when women threw off their corsets, claimed the vote and danced their way into independence in society.