She looked at him. “You’re just asking for it, aren’t you, Bailey?”
He nodded, not even trying to beat back his grin.
She reached up and pinched his neck, suddenly, as though testing readiness for the oven. “Ouch!” He let go of the champagne glass. Her tongue followed a second later, laving the vein, playing with the hollow, tracing its way to his ear. His breathing become ragged. She touched tongue-tip to the mapped roads of his ear and began running fingers through his hair, nails trailing the scalp, just above that ear. He gasped and his body jolted very slightly, as though a current had run head to toe. He turned into her touch, then turned further, facing her. He took that hand and kissed the palm, his gaze steady, leaping deliberately into those eyes.
Some time later she said, “Bailey …”
“What?”
“Why is the floor of heaven covered with shoes?”
He knew this game and smiled through the haze. “Well, it would make sense, you know.” Her lips were playing with his neck now; and the longer he could spin out this nonsense, the longer the beautiful torture would go on. “The floor of heaven is painful.”
“How do you figure?” Her breath was warm spice in his ear. She ran her palm over his forehead and he sighed.
“It shifts under your feet.” She moved on top of him, covering him with cool heat. “You need rubber-soled shoes.” Her hair swept past his neck like living silk. “Enjoy it while you can.” She’d zipped down his shorts and now she was playing with both ends of him, caressing his cock while she let the tip of her teeth remind his neck what it liked. So much for his concentration.
“Bailey?”
“Umm.”
“I liked that.”
“Umm.” Fortunately, the change in tone seemed to be carrying his response, because it was the best he could do just now.
She’d shifted position, her knee between his legs, just touching his cock, the extra contact making him dizzy. A new breeze rolled in off the ocean, unexpectedly cold, and Jesus, on his sensitized skin it was as erotic as the rest, making him shiver with pain and pleasure. He didn’t know the wind could do that.
He clutched her shoulders as the first touch of desperation took him. She held him then, rocking him through it, as his body, reminded now of what it had lacked for the last ten months, convulsed.
Lilith never took him after the first one. She could spin this out for hours, on a good night, and for most of those hours he’d be right there with her, delighting in the ride. Even delighting in the sudden, sickening descents of the roller coaster, because he knew what followed. But these moments, these were the hardest, when his body didn’t care about games or what came first or followed after.
Then it passed, and he was breathing hard. The cool, healing lips were on his, as though she could pass that inhuman strength into him, keep him going long enough for a dance humans weren’t designed to live through.
He sucked it in, opening his mouth, welcoming her tongue and its invasion. That army was on his side, boys. The cavalry was here for him …
There was a sudden change in her body. She pulled her mouth away, pushing him back.
He murmured, confused, “What …?”
She rolled away from him, staring toward the kitchen door. From which Teej emerged, looking as if he were about to be sick. His hands were clasped behind his head and he stumbled as he came through the door. A nine-millimeter automatic was about an inch from the back of his skull, held there by a man in a T-shirt and light nautical windbreaker.
Ron.
Shit. Bailey stared, appalled, as the knowledge cut through the haze in his mind like an icepick. Someone had gotten the license plate. Ron had more than one person helping him, and Bailey had missed the second confederate. He’d been careful, sure, just not careful enough to keep someone from putting an automatic to the head of a kid who was silly enough to think Bailey knew what he was doing.
Ron looked grim and nervous. Bailey zipped up his shorts hastily and rose to his feet. Lilith stood too, her eyes not leaving the gun. Ron’s gaze went to her and widened with surprise; then he turned back to Bailey.
You’re the guy who was on the boat. Let him say that.
“You’re the guy from Atlanta,” said Ron. “I heard about you.”
Death sentence. Ron would have to make sure he didn’t report back; it was too easy to trace someone off this tiny island, and Ron would have to change tactics and ditch the boat. And even then — once they knew, people would never stop looking for him.
“You called in yet?” Ron asked.
“This evening,” said Bailey.
Ron grinned. “That’s a lie. If you’d called in, I’d know about it.”
That would be an interesting statement, if the gun weren’t such a distraction. And Ron looked jumpy. He was holding the automatic like it might explode if he loosened his grip. Maybe he’d been nervous for a while; he had a few day’s growth of beard, and it occurred to Bailey in one of his compulsive empathic jumps, that maybe it wasn’t just for disguise. This guy looked like he didn’t trust his hands around razors.
Teej was starting to shake, and Lilith shifted on her feet, her predator’s gaze locked on Ron. No, she’d never make it. Not even a jaguar could take out Ron’s throat before that gun went off. Did she realize?
She did, thank God. She wasn’t moving.
“Maybe I’d be better off with your girlfriend,” Ron commented, following his glance. For a second Bailey almost smiled. Ron’s eyes shifted back and forth between them, deciding on his best move.
“Okay,” he said suddenly, looking at Bailey. “You’re with me. Get over here.”
So he wants to switch me for Teej, Bailey thought. This was marginally better, but not a stunning improvement. What was the score supposed to be here? Drive Bailey somewhere, put a nine millimeter through his skull, then come back for Lilith and Teej? Because he would want everyone.
No, not convenient, Bailey thought, moving slowly toward Ron. Better to take them all out now. First Bailey, whom he incorrectly considered the greatest threat. Then Teej. Then the unarmed woman in the halter top last. Damn, and they could have done something with the opposite order.
When he was close enough, Ron pushed Teej out of the way and grabbed Bailey.
He heard Teej sob. He felt the cold barrel against his scalp, Ron’s way of telling him not to move. It was moderately eloquent. Bailey faced Lilith — good, she was watching him. He threw everything he could into his expression. Do it. Do it. He’s only going to shoot Teej next, there’s nothing to gain by waiting, just do it.
She looked at him warily. Lilith, please, just—
She drew herself up to her full height and transferred her gaze to Ron with the air of one discarding the irrelevant. A low sound motored through the night: Lilith was growling. It made Bailey’s hair stand on end. He felt Ron’s start of surprise, felt the barrel move from his head.
Her fangs were enormous. Or maybe it was the fear that sound from her throat created in your guts, making those razors look like what they were.
“What the f—” said Ron.
Then she was on top of him. And the gun went off.
Pain tore through Bailey. He kept his head enough to move out of Lilith’s way.
He retreated against the other end of the L-wall of the house, putting his hand down to his leg to feel the wetness there. “Fuck.” The bullet had gone through his outer thigh. Nice that it hadn’t passed through his torso instead, but it stung like a bitch, and it was only going to get worse.