Phantom in the Night by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Like maybe a sexy burglar in a business suit with a head of wild blonde curls? And a set of curves his hands itched to mold around. She had a body of pure sex wrapped in silky skin.

  He could have spent hours working his way down her smooth back last night, fingering her legs gently apart to touch...

  Shit. What was he? Some kind of masochist?

  Nathan cursed lividly. He was as hard as the headboard and damn tired of relieving that ache on his own.

  How about using his brain for something other than fantasizing over a woman he'd never see undressed again. He studied the room for only the hundredth time, yanking his thoughts back to his immediate problem.

  Jamie always left him notes, had since grade school Where would he have hidden information?

  Why had his brother gone to work for Marseaux? What could have possibly driven him to do that? Had Jamie known he'd taken a job in a shipping company that was a front for one of the drug lord's operations? In the last letter Nathan received in prison, Jamie said he was doing okay at the garage working on cars and helping out with the books. The kid was a whiz.

  The kid. Nathan smiled.

  Jamie used to grump at Nathan that he was only two minutes younger, but Nathan came out of the womb an old man. And Jamie came out with a load of brains and too naive to survive on his own. Had to be the genius intelligence at fault for Jamie's inability to size up a threat in advance or know when he was being played.

  Jamie had always been too busy figuring out some mathematical equation or working on an intricate puzzle to see the world around him. Once Nathan explained cars, Jamie came up with a simple way to improve performance. That's when Nathan had made up his mind Jamie was going to college. The world needed someone with his gift, and a genuinely good person.

  But naive to a frightening degree.

  Jamie had been oblivious to his appeal to females until Nathan clued him in.

  And given him the talk on women their dad should have.

  He'd been there the first time a woman had broken Jamie's heart. That was Jamie, all heart, and willing to do anything for anyone, starting with his mom and brother.

  Nathan realized he was squeezing the life out of a harmless pillow. He released the wad of foam. The world was never going to be the same again without his mother and brother.

  He wanted revenge to a degree he couldn't explain, especially not to Terri Mitchell. Nathan would not rest until justice was served. He'd rarely killed outside of his orders and only when the situation called for extreme measures, but he had no problem playing judge and jury when no one else would... or could.

  Trying to predict the future was futile. He'd make decisions as he faced choices. The army had taught him to execute a directive with calm, cool rationale.

  To terminate his target when the time came with the same detachment.

  Now his first decision was what to do about Terri. He sat upright and shoved the sheets away. Hold it. When had she become "Terri" to him?

  About the time he'd kissed her?

  Yeah, that would be the moment. That was one itch he needed to ignore.

  Speaking of an itch, he scratched his head and the burr on his cheek. He hadn't shaved since getting out of prison, but today was the day.

  He sighed over the simple pleasure of a hot shower, alone. A small joy and one he'd never take for granted again after being caged with predators for two years. Guilt came knocking mentally at the reminder of being out early and that the warden had helped him. He slapped the water faucets off and toweled dry. The warden had bet on a bad horse. Nathan had made it clear he wanted no one's help.

  Dressed in a clean pair of jeans and black T-shirt, he rambled back to the bedroom, considering if he could at least buy time by calling the parole officer. Couldn't hurt at this point.

  Nathan lifted the cordless phone and dialed the New Orleans number the warden had stuck in his paper bag.

  "Percy Philips is out of the office. Please leave a message... beep."

  "Jamie Drake checking in." Like that was going to cut it with a parole officer? "McLaughlin said to check in by tomorrow, but I, uh... stepped in a pothole and sprang my ankle. Swelled up like a mother. Not like I can afford a doctor. Going to be tough to make it across town to your office without crutches. I don't have a number to leave. I'll call back."

  He returned the phone to its cradle. Philips would probably still send the dogs out after him when Nathan didn't show tomorrow, but maybe he'd wait until Monday to do it.

  Nathan was headed to the garage when someone knocked on the door. Every nerve in his body went tight even as he acknowledged that most threats didn't knock on the front door.

  They kicked it in.

  Sliding the curtain aside a tiny fraction to peer at the porch, he would have cursed if not for the possibility his visitor might hear him. The tiny gray-haired woman leaning on a metal cane was Terri's grandmother.

  She tapped again, waited a minute, then shrugged and tottered down the steps and out the walkway. At the sidewalk, she turned in the direction of her home, paused, and glanced back with a smile.

  Terri's grandmother waved, then walked away.

  He couldn't stay here at night anymore. Not now that Terri Mitchell's grandmother had recognized his voice. He'd been tempted to ask her about his mother when she'd said, "You're the Drake boy. I'm sorry about Lydia. I miss her. She was a dear woman." Those words had almost broken him, had reminded him that he'd never see his sweet mother again.

  He forced that thought aside and focused on the most important part of the impromptu meeting. If Terri's grandmother knew his mom, then Terri might know more about his brother than she was letting on.

  Nathan had gleaned new information last night after leaving Terri, like the rumor that Jamie had been talking to law enforcement.

  For all Nathan knew, she might have been involved with a bust where Jamie got caught in the crossfire. For her sake, he hoped she had nothing to do with Jamie's death.

  If she had, it would take more than a towel and a nicely shaped ass to divert him from what he'd do to her. And this time, she wouldn't enjoy his next visit.

  *

  Terri drifted in and out of a restless sleep, running from strangers, then running to a man she could never see clearly enough to identify, but somehow knew it was him. Every time she got close, the shadows would swallow his head or he'd turn away.

  Darkness surrounded her. She lay facedown on a puffy cloud. Sensuous male lips teased her neck, then moved erotically down her back and over her bottom. No towel interfered. She floated in the mist. His hands cupped her waist, then slid up her sides, gently massaging. She burned for more. His fingers touched both breasts at the same moment. Her breath caught at the exquisite torture.

  His fingers caressed her flesh slowly, then brushed across her nipples, which hardened into sensitive buds. One hand drifted low, barely touching her abdomen, sliding between her legs. He teased the delicate folds.

  She shuddered.

  The roaming fingers moved away from her. She curled into herself, twisted into a knot of painful need.

  Aching to have him back, she moaned.

  He turned her over and whispered to keep her eyes shut. If she saw him, he'd vanish and that was the last thing she wanted. So she complied. He kissed her, sweetly at first, then urgently, pushing her for more.

  His fingers caressed her face, her neck, breasts, everywhere except the center of her need. She ran her hands through his hair, surprised to find it long and silky. Finally, his hand moved down, stroking between her legs where her body screamed to be touched.

  She arched, cried out, begged him not to stop.

  The wind swirled, spinning her cloud 'round and 'round as he slowed his rhythm, then moved her closer to the edge. His hands drove her wild with an expertise no mortal man could possess.

  She hovered, teetering so close to release, ready to take the leap when he was suddenly gone. She peeked, but it was too late. His face was nothing more th
an smoke.

  He faded away, muscular arms outstretched, reaching for her.

  No! Don't go. Her whispered cry vanished in the wind. She'd reached for him, too, but he'd disappeared into a black void.

  Terri came awake with a start, breathing hard and frustrated as hell after the vivid dream. Her skin quivered. She still felt his invisible touch on her skin like a ghost lover. Heat banked beneath the sheets.

  She brushed a swatch of hair from her eyes. If he was half as good as that dream, making love with that man would be unbelievable.

  Then again, that's why it was called a dreamnot real.

  And just thinking about climbing in the sack with a faceless stranger was grounds for BAD to reevaluate her mental health.

  Her gaze tracked to the digital numbers on her alarm clock, the only thing she could see in the dark room. The lusty fog cleared slowly.

  Almost eleven in the morning, but still early for her.

  Blackout shades and heavy drapes kept the room pitch black so she could sleep past noon when she needed to. Not this morning. She had an hour for a cold shower before she had to meet Carlos.

  Grandma would be gone already with her buddies.

  Terri froze. She expected the house to be quiet, but her skin shivered with the feeling that someone was in the room.

  "Don't panic."

  She should be used to hearing his deep-timbered voice in the dark by now, but she still jumped. "What the hell are you doing here again?"

  She squinted in the dark to where a tiny puff of light curved around a shape that could be a head next to the window. Had she said or done anything embarrassing while she'd been asleep?

  Like that was more important than having a stranger pop in without an invitation? An agency psychiatrist would fill up two legal pads with notes on that. She was getting damn tired of this guy showing up anytime he pleased and not even letting her see his face.

  "I have a question." His smooth voice slid across her irritation, rounding off the sharp corners, but not enough to get him out of trouble.

  "Tell you what. I'll give you my cell phone number so you can just call me the next time you have one, and save you all the effort of breaking and entering. Free up a lot of your day."

  She heard a sound in the darkness that might be a laugh.

  Or maybe a growl.

  There was one way to be sure. She inched her hand toward the lamp.

  "Don't."

  Terri snatched her hand back, fisting it. "Why not? What have you got to hide?"

  Silence answered her, then a sigh before he spoke. "That's not what I came to talk to you about."

  She wished he could see the peeved glare she sent him through narrowed eyes. "Ever notice how these are one-sided conversations? And no offense, but I'm not in the mood since I'm not a morning person. I don't even want to hear the sound of a human voice before noon and definitely not before I've had my coffee. So why don't you make an appointment for when I'm awake and in a better mood?"

  As usual, he ignored her less-than-friendly words. "Did you know Lydia Drake and her son?"

  Was he serious? "No. Are we done? I've got to get a shower and make a meeting."

  "How does your grandmother know him?"

  Terri leaned back against the headrest. "That was you last night. I knew it. Grandma said she recognized your voice, that you were Lydia Drake's son Nathan. Grandma is never wrong about voices." She waited for him to dispute that.

  Then again, if he was Nathan Drake, he'd know whether or not Nathan knew her grandmother and his mother...

  If he was Nathan Drake, then whose body had been at the morgue?

  A person could get dizzy trying to follow all that first thing in the morning.

  "I'm related," he said finally. "The boys in our family all sound alike."

  That made more sense than anything else, A male cousin maybe, new player in the mix no one had thought about. She'd put Sammy on researching the Drake family, "So you aren't Nathan?"

  "Who I am doesn't matter."

  She made a face at him since he couldn't see her in the dark. Or could he? He'd seen her reaching for the lamp.

  "I think you're working for a spook agency," she said. "Which one?"

  "Who do you work for?"

  Touche. "I really can't play twenty questions with you this morning," She swung her legs around to the side of the bed, preparing to grab her robe and head for the shower.

  "I want to know what happened on Fat Tuesday."

  She paused. "The night of the Drake shooting?"

  "Yes, I want to find out who killed him."

  "Sorry to put it this way, but I've got bigger problems than hunting down whoever killed a drug mule."

  "He wasn't running drugs."

  The threat to anyone who disputed his words was clear, Terri's arms rippled with a chill.

  "Okay, let's say we agree on that point," she offered cautiously. "Why would someone kill him execution style?"

  "That's the question, isn't it? Marseaux is part of the answer, but I don't know if he's the only one involved."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because Nathan Drake would not have gone to work for Marseaux unless he was pushed into a corner."

  She started to argue in defense of the DEA based on what Brady had told her, but she didn't know this guy or how he was associated with Marseaux. "So you think Marseaux killed him?" That's what everyone at NOPD thought and she'd bet that was the DEAs conclusion.

  "No, I don't." His voice had moved to the other side of the room near the door to the hallway.

  Terri frowned. "Why not? That seems to be a logical conclusion."

  "Did anyone find Marseaux's calling card?"

  "The outline?" The drug lords normal MO was to have his hitman spray a crime scene-type outline around the body because he mocked law enforcement.

  "Exactly."

  "No, but the body was" She hesitated. Where did she draw the line with this guy and her investigation?

  "found at the docks? I know that. If you want my help, you have to share."

  She considered what to tell him and chose enough to prove she'd share, but nothing critical. "Right. The initial review by the coroner was that Drake had been killed somewhere else and then his body was dropped at the docks."

  "Another thing Marseaux doesn't do. If he wants to make a statement, he has the victims hit at specific settings to let others know they're not safe from his reach. He wouldn't move one unless he intended to keep the death a secret."

  The fact that he was correct should scare her more than all the other weirdness about him. "How do you know so much about Marseaux?"

  "I've had time and access to better resources than you have available, I know how he operates and who he's connected to."

  "Then let's help each other." She needed an informant.

  But could she really trust another informant? She shivered at the memory of what happened last time, but informants were a necessary evil. She didn't have much choice at the moment if she was going to find Conroy's killer and fulfill her obligation to BAD. They suspected Marseaux of moving funds tied to terrorist activity, but needed solid evidence to move on those suspicions.

  "How can you help me?"

  She ignored the humor underlining his question. "You want to know about the murder. I have access to whatever information the NOPD has and I have a good friend in the DEA, I'll share what I find out on the Drake death if you'll help with Marseaux."

  "You should leave this case alone."

  "We've already had this discussion and you lost it. So do we have a deal?" she asked.

  He muttered something that rang of irritation, "I'll let you know, I'm leaving. If you get up before I close the door, I'll lock you in the room."

  "You can't do that."

  "You sure about that?"

  She had no answer.

  He hesitated. "One more question?"

  "What?" she snapped. If he wanted a sweeter tone he should have shown up with coff
ee.

  "What were you dreaming about when you woke up?"

  Her face was on fire. She jerked the sheets up over her gown in a purely feminine reaction.

  The door opened and closed so fast she was stunned for a second, then jumped up and ran to open it. The door gave about two inches, then stopped. She could see a string between the door and an umbrella that was crossways of the opening.

  Terri yanked once more out of frustration, then returned to her bed to flip on the lamp, which did not turn on. No surprise there. This guy took no chances with exposing his face. She felt for the nightstand and knocked something that bounced on the floor She had a sick feeling was her cell phone. When she found the drawer and opened it, she removed the flashlight she always kept there.

  Her cell phone was on the floor with another chip in the plastic. She shined the light on the nightstand, where she found the bulb he'd unscrewed from the lamp and a pair of scissors he'd thoughtfully left behind.

  Bastard.

  She should be stomping mad, but their relationshipif you call it thatwas so bizarre she just sighed, cut the string to open the door, and headed for the shower.

  *

  "I see no reason for concern just yet," Fra Bacchus argued I again, tired of this phone conversation. He leaned an elbow against his desk, supporting his head with that hand. "We will retrieve the vials this week."

  "I'm hearing conflicting reports from your area." Fra Diablo spoke with the authority allowed the superior fra of the twelve reigning fratelli of North and South America.

  "Since I'm the only person who should be reporting from this area, I feel it only fair I'm given the source of this conflicting information."

  Fra Diablo paused for a few seconds. "Just remember that you will be held accountable for everything in your area. That includes the actions of any discipuls."

  Bacchus didn't care one bit for Fra Diablo's sharp tone nor the insinuated threat. "I never forget my responsibilities nor has my loyalty to the fratelli ever wavered." He lowered his tone. "So I would humbly remind you of our oath to each other, which includes uncompromising support. Do I have it or not?"

  "Of course you do. I am only saying to make sure your discipuls do not disappoint you... or me. Hold on." He spoke muffled words away from the receiver, then said, "I have another call waiting I have to take. We'll speak more later."