Touch of Evil Page 6

  Wide and cat-like, they were the most amazing shade of violet that Mark had ever seen, even from this computer printout. Dark, thick lashes surrounded them, making her seem mysterious. If this was what all Sirens looked like, why the hell did they need to sing to entrance men?

  Flora watched her surrogate son as he studied the picture like a blind man that had suddenly regained his ability to see. She bit back the smirk that threatened to play across her mouth and reminded herself that they didn’t have a clue if this girl was one of the “good guys”. Even though, it did her heart good to see the want flaring so blatantly in his eyes. And if that was his reaction from a picture—a bad one at that—how would he react to the woman in the flesh? Flora almost wished that she could be present for the encounter.

  “Pretty, isn’t she?” she asked.

  “Huh?” he managed, forcing his eyes away from the vision in his hand. He blinked once, focusing on Flora. The look of amusement in her eyes had annoyance drawing his brows together. “What?” he snapped, folding the picture and putting it in one of the books.

  “Nothing,” she replied a little too innocently.

  Mark sent her a scowl to which she only smiled. “Thanks. I’ll get these to Cy.” He turned on his heel, his duster flaring out behind him, and stalked out of the store.

  Flora let out a chuckle when the door clicked shut behind him. She was so delighted with his flustered reaction that she didn’t storm out after him and scold him for not giving her a kiss goodbye. With a glance at the clock and another chuckle, she moved from behind the counter and started to get the shop ready to open for the day.

  * * * *

  Eve had always been too curious for her own good and had never once been accused of being patient. From the time she was six and had sneaked downstairs to discover that her father was really Santa Claus, to the second she stepped foot inside The Emerald Room tonight, she was always wanting to know why, what, how and, most of all, when? She would read the last page of a book, her excuse being that she needed to make sure it had a good ending. Why would she want to read a book with a bad ending? If she wanted that, she’d read the newspaper. If she liked a show, she would scour the Internet looking for any clue that something bad was going to happen. Every birthday her mother had had to devise new ways and places to hide her presents. If a guy didn’t call her back after the first date, she called him to demand a reason why.

  And if three testosterone laden men had decided to give her the brush off when it came to helping her sister, well, by God, she would do it herself.

  Such was Eve’s mindset as she walked into the club, her annoyance level high that she had not been contacted by the trio of demon hunters. If they didn’t want to help her, that was fine. She was a strong, capable woman with a good brain. She would figure something out.

  Which was why she’d come here. She had a feeling that the easiest place to snatch her sister back would be here. Sebastian’s house was more heavily guarded than the Department of the Treasury and more secluded than a desert isle. But the club—that was a different story.

  The Emerald Room was on the main road through town, a restaurant on one side and a drycleaners on the other. An alley ran the length behind the old buildings, each with one door that led out of the businesses. She had a feeling that if the fire department chose, they could close down The Emerald Room for lack of fire exits, since there was only the back stage door and the front entrance to get in and out. However, all the proper permits were in place and on display behind the bar, lending proof to Eve’s suspicion that Sebastian’s reach extended very far indeed.

  Walking along the shadows in the back of the club, she sipped the drink she’d ordered as part of her cover, her gaze taking in every detail of the room. Elegant crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their dim light casting a warm glow over the patrons. Green silk wallpaper covered the walls, the shade reminiscent of the jewels the club was named for. Several, tall, leafy plants were set along the walls in huge brass pots. The tables were rich, dark wood, the chairs plush and comfortable. The bar and floors were done in the same wood as the tables, as was the stage. A man around Eve’s age, with blond hair and a wide smile, sat at the piano, his fingers expertly picking out the notes.

  This was not a club for the college students that made up most of the town’s population. This place was created for and catered to the businessmen that Sebastian sought to rule. The glass was Waterford, the dishes Wedgwood, the utensils silver. A gourmet chef ran the kitchen with the precision of an Army general and the wait staff was decked out in crisp white shirts and creaseless black slacks. A heavy, green velvet curtain covered the entrance to the backstage area of the club, and a guard was positioned directly next to it. The man on duty tonight was none other than Brie’s bodyguard, Mr. Silent.

  Eve studied him from her concealed position and wondered what it was about the man that made the short hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. He wasn’t particularly big, either in height or width. His face was craggy, with a day’s worth of stubble lining the jaw. His light brown hair hung limply against his skull, making it appear unwashed. For all Eve knew, it was. Every few seconds, his bored, brown eyes would scan the people laughing and talking at their tables, his demeanor suggesting that he wished something would happen. Something that would make him have to get physical.

  Eve almost felt sorry for his boredom, until she remembered that he was helping to hold her sister hostage.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” a voice growled in her ear, making her jump. Her drink sloshed over the rim of the glass to splash across the black silk of her bodice. She swiped at it with a napkin and glared up at the man in front of her. Ash looked angry enough to spit nails, and while it was an intimidating sight, she refused to cower under his hostile gaze.

  “What do you think I’m doing here?” she shot back, keeping her voice low so as not to attract attention. Her gaze left Ash long enough to make sure they weren’t being watched. When she looked back, she nearly staggered from the amount of heat blazing in the ice blue of his eyes. He cleans up nicely, she thought, taking in the charcoal-colored slacks and the black, cotton sweater. Each clung to his body like it was tailored to fit, exposing every ripple of muscle as he moved.

  “Are you trying to get you and your sister killed?” he hissed, his face bland, but his words biting.

  “What do you care? I recall getting told that I would get an answer today. Seems to me you guys blew me off. That makes what I’m doing here none of your concern.”

  “Fuck.” Ash let the word out on an exasperated huff of air and shoved a hand through his sable hair.

  “What?”

  “Cy was supposed to call you this morning and let you know that we were taking the job.”

  “Oh.” The smug look that had been on her face deflated.

  Well, score another one for impatience, she thought, not feeling too terrible about it. “Okay. So, what are you doing here then?” she asked causally, taking a sip of her drink. Ash looked like he wanted to haul her out of the club by her shoe straps.

  “Recon. Getting the lay of the place, then I’m going to go back to Cy’s.”

  “Oh, good. I can go with you,” she said, her eyes lighting up.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I can go with you. Then we can talk about how we’re going to save my sister.”

  “We’re?”

  “Well, yeah,” she answered as if her being involved with the rescue was the most natural thing in the world.

  Ash stared at her blankly for a moment, before a snort of laughter escaped him. “I don’t think so sweetheart.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth, ready to let loose the litany of not so ladylike words that sprang to her tongue, and to tell him not to call her sweetheart. Before the first syllable was uttered, she saw Ash look over her shoulder, his eyes suddenly guarded, just as she felt a cold hand cup her elbow. She turned and faced the person touching her.
Anger slammed into her at the sight of the benign smile on the man’s face.

  “Sebastian,” she said as pleasantly as she could, forcing a smile onto her suddenly numb lips.

  “Evelyn, my dear, what a pleasant surprise. I’m sorry to say that Brianne is not here this evening. She will be disappointed that she missed you.” Eve heard the malice under the smooth, rich tones of the man’s voice and bit her tongue not to call him on it.

  “Oh, I just came by for a drink, anyway.” She raised the hand holding the glass.

  “Yes. I don’t believe I know you sir.” Sebastian shifted his attention to Ash. Eve glanced over at Ash and nearly shivered from the predatory smile on his mouth.

  “No sir. I don’t believe we’ve met. Ash Marshall,” he said, taking in the slim, tall build of the man in front of him. Sebastian was dressed impeccably in a suit as dark as his hair and tailored to fit the body that wore it. Gold eyes studied him just as thoroughly. Ash offered a hand to the other vampire, his gaze never wavering.

  As the two shook hands, Eve thought that she might choke on the level of testosterone emanating from them.

  “Sebastian Cane,” Sebastian offered.

  Ash knew the second that Sebastian realized what he was. Sebastian arched a brow and offered a malicious smile.

  “It’s good luck that I ran into you this evening, Evelyn. It saves me from having to send this to your home.” Sebastian pulled out a slim, linen envelope and handed it to Eve.

  She looked at it for a second, before meeting Sebastian’s eyes. “What’s this?”

  “Surely you haven’t forgotten your sister’s birthday?” he scolded.

  Eve forced a laugh and mentally kicked herself, because, yes, she had forgotten. She had been so intent on trying to save Brie that the date had slipped by unnoticed.

  “Of course, I haven’t.”

  “Of course,” Sebastian conceded, his eyes telling her he didn’t believe her.

  Screw you buddy. You don’t have to believe me, she thought, hastily raising her drink to her mouth before she said any of the things swirling around in her mind.

  “We’re having a celebration here Saturday night. I trust you’ll come?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. She is my baby sister,” Eve answered, offering him a sweet smile.

  “Wonderful. Perhaps I will see you here, as well, Mr. Marshall.”

  “Perhaps.” Ash nodded slightly, not offering his hand this time.

  Sebastian looked at Eve, then back at Ash, his smile glinting of something nasty. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. Good night, Evelyn.”

  “Good night.” Eve looked down at the envelope in her hand, a sly smile replacing the sugary sweet one she had given to Sebastian. She looked back up at Ash and raised her glass in a toast, waving the envelope in her other hand. “Looks like it’s back to ‘we’,” she said with a chuckle, starting past Ash with a sashay to her step.

  Wonderful, he thought, letting his eyes drift closed in frustration before turning to follow her out into the night.

  Chapter Five

  When Cyrus opened the door to admit the determined looking Eve and the rather chagrined looking Ash, he didn’t know what to think. It took less than five minutes for him to decide that Evelyn Murphy was one of the most hardheaded females he’d ever encountered. And after knowing Flora for nearly fifty years, that was quite a feat.

  “Listen, Ms. Murphy, I understand you wanting to help your sister, but I’m afraid I can’t let you help us,” he said for the third time in twice as many minutes. His patience, which he didn’t have much of to begin with, was starting to wear extremely thin. The tiny auburn-haired woman glared up at him, her emerald eyes shooting sparks at him. He glanced over at Ash, silently pleading for help, but all the vampire did was shrug and grin. Cyrus scowled at him and looked back at Eve.

  “Well, if you knew me, Mr. Tanner, you would know that there is no way I would let you go in there without me. So, either let me go, or know that I will be there no matter what you say.”

  Ash watched the battle of wills with a great deal of amusement and more than a little bit of respect for the woman. She was standing toe to toe with the old man, arms crossed over her chest, eyes trained directly on Cyrus’. She wasn’t giving an inch, and Cy didn’t know how to deal with it.

  “Goddammit,” the old man spat, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.

  At that moment, Mark chose to finally show up. He walked through the door, carrying the stack of books that Flora had given him with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He paused with his hand on the door and looked at the couple facing off in the middle of the living room.

  “Did I miss something?” he asked, pushing the door closed with his foot and dropping the texts on the scarred coffee table. He shrugged out of his duster and took the cigarette out of his mouth to flick the ashes while he waited for someone to respond.

  “Nothing at all, Mr. Lynch. Your grandfather and I are just having a difference of opinion is all,” Eve answered, barely sparing him a glance.

  Cy glanced over at his grandson, the look on his face stating clearly that he thought Eve had lost her mind. “Well, if Ms. Murphy wasn’t so damn stubborn, we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

  Mark snorted and looked over at Ash who was grinning like a mad man at the exchange between the two.

  “What’s she being so stubborn about, Cy?”

  “This little lady here has gotten it into her head that she’s going to help us liberate her sister.”

  Mark’s brows shot up and his gaze switched to Eve. She met his gaze head on, her mouth set in determination. In all the years he had lived in this house, he had never seen Cyrus flustered. Not even when he and Flora were going at it, yelling loud enough to wake the dead. This little woman, who looked ridiculously like a child standing next to the barrel that was his grandfather, had him red faced and stammering for words.

  Mark didn’t know whether to congratulate her or step in and save Cyrus. When his gaze met her, he decided that the old man could hold his own.

  It was then that he realized his grandfather was looking at him to back him up. Mark bit back a grin and shrugged, his posture saying “you’re on your own”.

  Cyrus scowled at the boy he had raised, his eyes promising a painful retribution, to which Mark’s smile grew wider, then returned to glowering at Eve. “No,” he told her simply and with a finality that would have had Mark or Ash backing down.

  But Eve—either because she didn’t know him well enough to know that he was at the end of his tether, or simply because she didn’t care—tossed her hair, pinned him with a cold stare and said, “Yes.”

  Ash and Mark exchanged an amused glance, each wondering how much danger Cyrus was in of having a heart attack. The old man’s face was steadily turning a brighter shade of magenta, his eyes shooting sparks at her. After a second, Cy took a deep breath and Mark could practically see the mental gear shifting that was going on.

  “Ms. Murphy, I respect your desire to help your sister. But it would be a bigger help if you let us do the job you hired us for. We are professionals and we can’t have our attention split between keeping you safe and getting your sister out.” Cyrus’ voice was mild, his tone calm. He raised a placating hand, which Eve looked at as if it were a snake.

  “Don’t patronize me, Mr. Tanner. I am well aware of when someone is trying to blow smoke up my ass. The way I see it, this party is a blessing. It is being held at the club, the only place that it would be possible to get her out of. Sebastian has already seen me with Ash. His escorting me to the party wouldn’t be suspected. And while he is guarding me and keeping an eye on Sebastian in the front, you and your grandson will have the ability to be ghosts and get my sister out. If it’s done correctly, it can be done quickly and quietly, without all the loud explosions and gun play you men seem to be so fond of.”

  Cyrus had to admit—if only to himself—that she had a point.

  “There’s only one proble
m with that.” Ash spoke for the first time since they’d walked into the house.

  “And what’s that?” Eve asked, her eyes challenging him to tell her that her plan sucked.

  Ash had no such intention; he liked his skin where it was. Not only that, but it was a viable plan and he was amazed that she had come up with it in the short ride to the house. “The bodyguard. The one that’s always around Brianne when you see her. The one that was standing by the door tonight?” he waited until they were all looking at him to continue. “Werewolf.”

  Oh, this just gets better and better, Mark thought, lighting a new cigarette off the remnants of his last one.

  “So?” Eve asked with a shrug.

  “ Goddammit!” Cyrus spat, scratching a hand over his short hair. “A werewolf will be able to smell us coming from a mile away. Even in his human form.”

  “Their sense of smell is ten times better than a vampire’s, which is ten times better than a human’s,” Ash explained, pushing away from the wall and walking further into the living room.

  “And I say again, so?” Even as she said it, Eve knew it was a problem. She ignored the incredulous look Cy gave her and focused her attention on Ash. He gave her a dumbfounded look, as well, but it wasn’t laced with the questions about her sanity that Cyrus’ was.

  “It will be very difficult to get around him. Sebastian hired him for a reason, since werewolves and vampires notoriously don’t get along. I’m not saying it can’t be done, but there is really no fool proof way, aside from sending a silver bullet through his heart.”

  “And that would draw unwanted attention,” Eve finished, her voice full of disappointment.

  Ash gave her a sad smile and nodded.

  “You know, even with that little speed bump, her idea has merit,” Mark said thoughtfully. He rolled his cigarette between his fingers, staring at the tip as he thought through the problems.