Taming the Moon Page 7

  But what was done—or not done—was in the past. All he had was the present, and he would make the most of it.

  Besides, that was why he had underlings—to take care of the nitty-gritty things so he could focus on the bigger picture. And the bigger picture was Ryder Merrick.

  He glanced over at Zoe. He had other things to attend to first. With a ruthlessness he was quite proud to possess, he pushed aside thoughts of vengeance and death and smiled down at the doll in his hand. He pushed up one plastic arm, then pressed it back down to the doll’s side. “You sure you want me to be Barbie? Shouldn’t I be Ken? I am a boy, you know.”

  Zoe giggled and shook her head. “I like it when you’re Barbie. Your voice goes funny when you talk high.”

  He grinned. It was fun making his voice go falsetto so he could sound more like a woman. And listening to Zoe’s sweet giggles made his day, every day. “So shall we be retail workers today, sweetie? Or office?”

  Chapter 6

  Olivia closed the door of her hotel room—not the hotel where she’d told Sully and O’Connell she was staying—and leaned against it a moment. Closing her eyes, she replayed the events of the day, lingering over the sense of camaraderie she’d felt with Sully and his friends.

  Camaraderie she’d never gotten from her own pack. Probably would never get. Why couldn’t she have met these people first, before Eddy had ruined her life?

  Pelicia had been more than just a gracious hostess. She’d genuinely been interested in Olivia, wanting to befriend her with no agenda of her own that Olivia could discern.

  O’Connell had been a likeable devil, full of mischief and endearingly affectionate with his fiancée.

  Olivia could easily see herself becoming fast friends with those two. If things were different. They were hardly likely to become friends once she killed Sully.

  She gritted her teeth and fought back despair. Sully. He’d been charming and attentive. Alternately teasing and intense, leaving no doubt as to his interest in her.

  An interest that, in all honesty, she shared.

  But an interest that could lead nowhere.

  She straightened and walked into the room, sitting down on the queen-size bed. With a sigh, she toed off her shoes and plopped back onto the bed, arms splayed, and stared at the ceiling.

  What to do? What to do…

  Olivia brought one hand up and rubbed her forehead. She saw no way out of this. If she didn’t kill Sully, she knew Eddy would kill Zoe.

  And it wasn’t as if she could go to the police. The first “law” of lycanthropy was to keep it a secret, at all costs. It was something as instinctive as the urge to run free.

  Plus Eddy had enough clout with the authorities in New York that they’d never believe her about him. About any of it. Even if she could have him arrested for kidnapping, that wouldn’t guarantee Zoe’s safety. Olivia could take her daughter and run as far and as fast as possible, but someone, somewhere, would catch up with them.

  Of course, there was no guarantee that successful completion of her “mission” would necessarily guarantee safety, either. As long as Eddy was alive, she and Zoe would never be assured of anything, including their next breaths.

  He never really had explained—not to her satisfaction, anyway—why he was so desperate to have Sully and O’Connell killed. At least he hadn’t asked her to do both of them.

  Yet.

  Olivia drew in a shaky breath. God, it would never end. She closed her eyes against burning tears. Killing Sully was just the first step down that slippery slope. If she did this, if she took the life of another person, it would only be the first in a long line of what would become nameless, faceless victims. Eddy would see to it that she became as indifferent to taking life as he was.

  There are a lot of people on this planet, he was fond of saying. In the overall scheme of things, a few here and there won’t be missed.

  Becoming a killer would destroy her soul. Not becoming a killer would destroy her daughter. But what would it do to Zoe when she found out exactly how much of a monster her mother had become?

  Turning into a werewolf was a thing over which Olivia had had no choice. Turning into a killer…well, that was something she could control.

  With a sigh, she swung her legs up and turned to her side. She grabbed a pillow from beneath the covers and scrunched it under her head. She could just ask Sully for help. He was a cop, and O’Connell was former Special Ops or some such thing. They’d have the kind of combat training Eddy and his cronies didn’t. But they hadn’t been werewolves nearly as long as most in her pack. Eddy had been one for at least twenty years, and many of those in the upper echelons nearly that long.

  But even if Sully and O’Connell could help, why would they? They didn’t know her.

  She’d just have to let them get to know her. In less than a week. And convince them that they had to go to New York for a fight in which they had no personal stake and in which they might die.

  Good God. She sighed. It’d be easier to kill Sully, for crying out loud.

  But then whoever said the easiest road was the right road?

  Olivia flopped over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. It all came down to what she could do to save Zoe in the limited amount of time she had.

  Her date with Sully—to go up to the small town of Summerhaven on Mount Lemmon for dinner—could be the opening she needed. She’d play things by ear. Either she’d get a chance to ask him for help, or she’d have a window of opportunity to take him out.

  Whichever happened first, she had to act.

  Sully sat on the edge of the bed in the guesthouse and stared through the window at the desert beyond. It all seemed so surreal—do one little favor for a friend and have everything go completely sideways. In less than a fortnight he’d gone from being a highly valued member of the CID to one very close to official sanction. Not to mention he’d left the ranks of ordinary humans and had taken his place among movie monsters.

  Only this wasn’t a movie. This was his life.

  He heaved a sigh. Goddamn. If someone had told him a month ago that he’d literally howl at the moon one day, he’d have thought them deranged. And while he couldn’t deny the pluses that seemed to go along with turning furry once a month—the positives of which Declan continually reminded him—the negatives far outweighed them as far as Sully was concerned.

  Every man had a dark part to his soul—the part that enabled him to take another life, whether justified or not; the part that could destroy as easily as create—and in his limited experience the wolf brought out that dark side much too readily.

  His emotions seemed to roil just below the surface, especially the more aggressive ones—anger, hatred, fear. Always before he’d been able to channel those emotions into positive actions, notably when it came to bringing down the bad guys. This time when he’d brought the bad guy down, though, he’d done it literally, and those aggressive emotions had almost certainly cost him something when it came to his career.

  And very possibly when it came to his soul.

  The only good thing he could see coming out of this was Olivia. He would bet good money their paths would never have crossed if he hadn’t been turned into a werewolf. There would have been no reason for him to travel to Arizona. When he left the Isles of Scilly he’d have gone back to his life and found it just the way he’d left it—neat, orderly, and sane.

  He certainly wouldn’t have entertained the notion of biting a suspect.

  Or his sexual partner. Christ. He’d had strong reactions upon meeting a woman before, but never anything on the scale of what he felt with Olivia. Perhaps it was because everything seemed magnified because of the wolf. His senses and his emotions were enhanced.

  Though he’d certainly never been careless enough to have unprotected sex before. But, God! What sex it had been. He was looking forward to getting her onto this nice, soft bed.

  Not like that was going to happen any time soon, the way Declan kept poking his nose
into things. First he’d almost interrupted them out in the desert and now, when Sully had invited her on a date, Declan had invited himself and Pelicia along as well.

  Just what Sully needed. A double date with O’Connell.

  He sighed and stretched his legs out in front of him, and leaned back with his palms braced against the mattress. He had a feeling there was more happening with Olivia than she was letting on. It was something he’d seen in her eyes—a hint of desperation, of…panic.

  But except for that fleeting glimpse, she’d played it cool. Her laughter had come easily and had seemed genuine. He thought she’d enjoyed herself. Certainly she seemed to have relaxed her guard, though every once in a while he sensed her tensing up and a shadow moved over her face as if her thoughts had turned dark. It was so fleeting he would have missed it if he hadn’t been so focused on her.

  He was determined to get to know her. To uncover her secrets.

  And her body. He’d hoped they could make use of this big bed tonight, but with the way Declan was horning in on things…

  Well, at least according to Pelicia, he’d get some decent pie up on the mountain.

  “Mack, you’ve outdone yourself,” O’Connell said as he sat back in his chair and looked up at the owner of the restaurant.

  From behind him Olivia could see the outdoor patio where a few people sat at tables in the sun.

  O’Connell went on. “That chili has to be the best yet.” He lightly patted his flat stomach.

  “Well, I hope you saved room for dessert.” Mack propped his hands on his hips. “We make a killer chocolate cake here—the best Mt. Lemmon has to offer.”

  Olivia thought about telling him she was too full, but she had a definite weakness for chocolate and found herself ordering the cake. After the server placed a piece of three-layer cake in front of her, she was glad she had. The aroma of chocolate and raspberry—with the light scent of vanilla from the melting ice cream—was too tantalizing to pass up.

  Licking her lips, she cut into the cake and pushed it through the raspberry sauce drizzled onto the plate. When the decadent flavor hit her tongue, she moaned and leaned back in her chair, her eyes fluttering closed.

  A slight shiver of delight went through her, and she couldn’t hold back another low moan. It was just so good.

  She became aware that the others at the table had gone silent. Opening her eyes, she saw her companions staring at her, amusement on their faces. She also realized Mack was still standing there. With delicate care she placed her fork on her plate and lifted her napkin to her lips.

  A grin creased the owner’s face. Shaking his head, he murmured, “It’s a pleasure to see someone enjoying my food the way you do.”

  Heat flooded her face. She must look like a piglet, eating like there was no tomorrow. While there was no denying that she’d always enjoyed food—the tastes and the textures—there was more to it than that. It was yet another aspect of the increased metabolism thanks to her inner wolf—which had apparently eaten the little pig.

  Or all three of them.

  Mack’s hand fluttered near her as if he meant to pat her on the back but was unsure if he should touch her. “Oh, please, I meant it as a compliment.” His cheeks colored as well.

  Olivia couldn’t help but feel bad. Her embarrassment had embarrassed him. “I was hungry,” she said, trying to ignore the amused glances she was getting from her dinner companions, especially Sully. Amusement was so not the reaction she wanted from him—not if they were going to have wild monkey sex later on.

  Which was certainly on her agenda.

  “It’s really good,” she went on to assure the restaurant owner.

  He smiled. “Well, I’m happy you like it.” He looked around the table. “Dessert’s on the house, folks.” He dipped his head and headed into the kitchen.

  She saw Pelicia glance from her to Sully and back again. “Um, Declan, let’s take our cake and coffee out onto the terrace, all right? It’s too nice outside not to take advantage of the sun.” Without waiting for his response, she stood and picked up her plate and coffee cup.

  O’Connell shrugged and followed suit. “Guess we’re goin’ out onto the patio where the sun’s shinin’. But it’s bloody cold,” he muttered and followed his fiancée.

  Olivia’s eyes partly closed as the smorgasbord of aromas hit her nose again. She looked down at the cake. Just one more bite, she promised herself. She forked up a piece and popped it into her mouth.

  Okay, maybe two.

  As before, she couldn’t contain a low moan of almost orgasmic delight at the decadent taste.

  “It’s almost as good as sex, isn’t it?” Sully’s voice came as a low rasp.

  Olivia looked at him. Gone was the humor. His eyes were heavy-lidded and glittering with sensual awareness. It gave him a dangerous, feral look that, combined with the testosterone oozing from him, brought her to instant, heady awareness. He was a big man, tall and broad, and she knew firsthand how he could use his size to his advantage over smaller, weaker prey.

  That wasn’t what worried her.

  It was those hooded emerald eyes burning with restrained carnal hunger. If he didn’t stop looking at her like that, she was going to jump his bones—well, one of them, anyway—regardless of how many onlookers there might be.

  It was getting harder and harder to think about killing him.

  She swallowed the bite of cake and licked her suddenly dry lips. His gaze tracked the movement. He leaned forward in his chair with a casual grace that made her heart beat a little faster. God, this man was sex on a stick. She’d never felt so aroused so fast by a man before, and it made her feel a little out of her element.

  But, never one to run from a challenge, she took a deep breath and lifted her chin. She could give as good as she got. “Yeah, it’s almost as good as sex,” she agreed, if untruthfully. She couldn’t imagine anything even coming close to how good sex was with this man.

  Sully reached out and swept his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “You missed some,” he said, his voice low and husky.

  Before he could move his hand away, she turned her head and sucked his thumb into her mouth. Keeping her gaze on his smoldering one, she brought her teeth lightly down on his thumb, trapping it between her lips, and licked the chocolate off, swirling her tongue over the pad of his thumb.

  His eyes darkened, the pupils dilating and amber specking his irises as arousal built. Lips parting, he stroked his index finger along her cheek and pressed his thumb a little farther into her mouth.

  Oh, Lord. Her body responded, her core tightening, her clit setting up an insistent throb.

  He slowly pulled his hand away and picked up her fork. He speared another piece of cake and held it to her lips.

  “I shouldn’t,” she demurred, not wanting to ruin the erotic moment. She wanted him to think of her as a sexy beast, not a little pig.

  But, dayum. That cake was too good to leave on the plate.

  “I admire a woman who doesn’t pick at her food. Besides, there’s always room for…chocolate.” Sully’s voice dipped at the end, running over her nerve endings like rough silk. “Or so I’ve heard said.”

  Olivia let him feed her the bite. As her lips closed over the fork, his eyes glittered with heat. His face darkened with desire, and his other hand clenched on the table. He dropped his gaze long enough to scoop up another piece of cake.

  She waited until he looked at her again to run her tongue over her lips. His nostrils flared, but he said nothing as he put the fork to her mouth. She clasped his hand, gently taking the fork from his fingers, and cut into the cake. She lifted the piece to his mouth, gaze focused on those kissable lips as they parted.

  What was it about this man that made the simple act of eating cake such a turn-on? The muscles in his jaw bunched as he chewed. As he swallowed, the strong muscles of his throat making his Adam’s apple bob, she drew in a breath.

  A murmur of conversation from a couple at the next table brought
her back to the realization that they were in a public place. And she wasn’t that adventurous.

  Olivia set the fork onto the plate and looked around the room, casting about for something to start up a conversation that didn’t include sexual innuendoes. She leaned back, picked up her cup, and took a sip of coffee. The slightly bitter flavor blended with the chocolate, and she took another sip before saying, “It’s really very pretty up here. So different from the valley.”

  Giving a mental roll of her eyes, she fought back renewed embarrassment. How lame, but it was the best she could do given the way he was looking at her and how her body was responding.

  Holding her gaze, Sully speared another piece of cake and brought it to his lips. She watched, mesmerized, as his mouth closed around the tines of the fork. As he drew it away, his tongue swept out, licking away a smear of chocolate and leaving his bottom lip deliciously wet.

  “So, Olivia,” he said, leaning back in his chair and apparently willing—for the moment at least—to cease and desist in the sensual teasing department, “tell me why you’re here.”

  “You invited me,” she quipped. Even though she’d told herself to take an opening when it came up, she didn’t want the conversation to head that way. She wasn’t ready to end the day.

  And end it most likely would, if she told him the truth.

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  She sighed. This was an opening, and she should take it. “It’s…complicated.” At his narrow-eyed look she faltered. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  Not that she’d thought it would be.

  With the ease and grace of an animal—a large, predatory animal that was looking at her as if she were good enough to eat—he leaned forward again and captured one of her hands where it rested on the table. Idly playing with her fingers, he murmured, “Uncomplicate it for me.” He looked up at her then, his steady gaze snagging hers.

  She stared down at his big hand, the blunt-edged fingers gentle around hers.