Red Heat  

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Red Heat ISBN 9781419922435 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Red Heat Copyright © 2009 Lynne Connolly Edited by Briana St. James Cover art by Syneca Electronic book Publication July 2009 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

RED HEAT Lynne Connolly

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Aston Martin: Aston Martin Lagonda Limited Macy’s Department Store: Macy’s Department Stores, Inc. Mercedes: DaimlerChrysler Ag Corporation Samsara perfume: Guerlain S.A. Corporation

Red Heat

Chapter One Caroline’s heart pounded double time as she stepped through the huge glass doors of the New York flagship hotel of the Timothy group. Not for the first time she doubted she could accomplish her mission but she’d rehearsed this part so many times, she could have done it in her sleep. One of the premier hotels in New York, the Timothy was imposing enough from the outside but the entrance hall staggered her, even though she’d seen pictures of it before. The reality was so much more. Taste and opulence combined to create one of the most admired interiors in the city. Crystal drops spiraled down from the central chandelier high above, like a static waterfall, spreading sparkles of fractured color over the cream marble floor. Dark mahogany and brass fittings emphasized the sparkle. In one of the most expensive areas of real estate in the world, this space stated its disdain for mere money. Except that was a double bluff, because the cost of a suite here for a night would keep an average American family for a month. She tried to despise the kind of lifestyle that required this level of display but she couldn’t quite make it. She wanted to call it vulgar but it wasn’t. She wanted to condemn it but walking into the space lifted her spirits. A shame the owner was a Talent who refused to share his gifts with mankind for the common good. Caroline was here to persuade him to change his mind. Not that he knew that yet. This beautiful place served as nothing but a façade for deception. Because this world-famous hotel was a center for beings calling themselves Talents, who didn’t care if humans lived or died and refused to share their gifts with mankind. And she was the first line of attack. She had to remember that her name wasn’t Caroline but Jillian. For this mission, her name was Jillian. If she thought of herself as Caroline, she’d make a slip, so from her entrance through the great glass doors, she had to become Jillian. She repeated the name in her mind, sinking into the role as her trainers had taught her. Posing as his lost love, with extensive plastic surgery aiding her masquerade, she would do what nobody else had managed to achieve. The organization that had sent her today, the IRDC, the International Research and Development Clinic, needed Talents to help, otherwise the organization couldn’t distill the precious essences of what made Talents so special. Only Talents like shape-shifters, vampires and Sorcerers had gifts like longevity, strength, the ability to shift form, and to flash from place to place instantly.

5

Lynne Connolly

This Talent was a Sorcerer, descended from a race of people originating in Hungary, people with incredible powers of the mind, telepathy in particular. Talents claimed that everyone could use a certain amount of telepathy, that everyone was born with it but developed a strong shield that few pierced in their lifetimes. The IRDC believed a shortcut to the ability would come if Talents allowed experiments and study. Talents constantly refused to allow the IRDC access, paranoid in their refusals. Now that Talents had come out of their particular closet and faced the light of day, it should have been easier to persuade them. No such luck. So here she was. On a mission, if not from God, then from the IRDC. People stood at the checkout desk and three bellboys pushed laden luggage trolleys across the floor. The information desk was clear, so she walked up to it, each subdued tap of her shoes on the cold marble ticking the countdown to her fate. The staff at the desks wore dark business suits that were only recognizable as a uniform by the T monogram on the lapel, so distinctively the Timothy that the hotel had made the letter into a brand, even trademarked the custom designed font. You could buy towels and robes with its distinctive flourish. As the advertisements in the glossies said, “We sell them to you so you don’t have to steal them.” She’d bet the guests still stole them, just for kicks. The man at the desk, who wore a badge with his name, Malcolm, gave her a professional smile but his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. Some of the guests here wouldn’t like eye contact. It made Jillian feel even more isolated. “May I help you, ma’am?” “I-I don’t have a reservation.” She watched the smile melt away. “But I wondered if room 139B was available?” Did Malcolm’s eyes widen just a fraction? “My name’s Jillian Miller.” Oh yes, they had. He glanced down. “We are very busy,” he looked up at her, sharp eyes assessing, “but I believe that room is free. I’ll make a note and get someone to take you up.” She was on the brink of saying she’d find her own way but a bellboy stood at her side as soon as Malcolm raised a finger. She took the keycard Malcolm handed her and signed the register. Only on her way to the elevators did she realize that he’d forgotten to ask for her credit card. She’d just given the code word, a mixture of her assumed name, Jillian Miller, and the number of the room, 139B. Maybe credit cards were irrelevant. In the elevator, the bellboy passed a card through the base of the control panel instead of hitting a button. And where there should have been a button for the thirteenth floor, the one she wanted, there was only a brass dummy button. Nobody would think anything of that because superstitious people wouldn’t book rooms on the thirteenth floor, so many hotels just skipped it. It seemed they’d put it to use in the Timothy. The elevator had an old-world feel, with art deco grilles over obsidian marble. Very classy. “Ma’am, if you swipe your keycard, it will take you directly to your floor,” the

6

Red Heat

bellboy said in a voice as dark as chocolate. He was larger than the average bellboy too, his muscles clearly evident through his maroon uniform. She hadn’t known they made bellhop uniforms that big. It was really happening. This was for real. All the way here she’d fought to persuade herself that her handlers at the IRDC trusted her with this operation and finally she believed it. When they arrived and the doors slid silently open the bellhop stopped her leaving the elevator. “You see that painting?” He indicated a distinctive watercolor of a landscape hanging on the wall directly opposite. “Yes.” “There are copies opposite every elevator door and they tell you you’re on the right floor. The same watercolor, the same view. It works as a double check. Come this way, ma’am.” She followed the man, who pulled her wheeled case, until they reached a door at the end. He took her keycard, swiped it through and she watched a unit slide out from the wall. The bellhop stood aside. “Press your left forefinger on the pad and look into the viewer. It will register your fingerprint and your iris print.” Jillian bent and peered into the eyepiece and put her finger on the pad. A click, a blinding flash of light and the unit silently slid away. The door opened and Jillian caught her breath. The door opened straight on to a huge room. Huge for a hotel, especially a hotel in New York. Sure, the Timothy was five star, one of the city’s best, and it provided a temporary home for celebrities and millionaires but still—Jillian couldn’t remember ever being inside anything this luxurious. A queen-sized bed dominated one end of the room, the deep red draperies above it caught back on gilt hooks. The colors of deep red and cream, enhanced by glints of gold and clear crystal sparkled in the autumn sunshine. Everything spoke of luxury and the people born to expect it. Not this girl, Caroline Cross from the boondocks. And that was the very last time she’d think of herself as Caroline. No more. Jillian Miller was Chase Maynord’s old flame, the woman he thought was dead, and she was more than used to rooms like this.

***** Chase ruthlessly dragged his mind back to the meeting, a discussion of the conferences scheduled for the next six months. He’d allowed a new consulting group to review the situation and make recommendations and now he heartily wished he hadn’t. The Timothy group got its bread-and-butter from conferences, as did most big hotel groups. The luxury traffic paid well as did the income from the honeymooners and ordinary rich folks but the conferences saved on administrative costs. The price they

7

Lynne Connolly

charged for the conference rooms more than paid for the reduced prices of the guest rooms. Just as this person was telling him. Dressed in a good quality off-the-peg suit, the young man, fresh from Harvard, with all the arrogance of the newly qualified MBA, continued to tell him how to run his business. So far they’d told him nothing he didn’t already know. He wondered how much longer he could stay awake. A waste of time. His phone vibrated in his pocket and although he’d told them emergencies only, he sighed in relief. Breaking up another fight between a “happily married” celebrity couple, even arranging for a B-list couple to move out of a suite so an A-list couple could move in, anything would be better than this. The young man didn’t stop in his flow as Chase drew out his cell phone, switching off the blinker as he did so. He touched the screen and read the message. “Jillian Miller checked in to 139B.” “Shit!” He shot to his feet and headed for the door, only then turning around with his customary charming smile, facing the row of shocked people at the conference table. Perhaps only that news would have jolted him from his usual suave calm. He turned his attention to the young man at the table’s head and shrugged. “I’m very sorry. I can’t ignore this emergency. May we re-convene?” And next time, he’d send one of his deputies. No way would this fucking pompous ass take any more of his time. He couldn’t even remember the man’s name but to do him justice, the youth gave him a bright smile. “Sure. But we’ve dealt with most of it. I can send you my report first thing in the morning.” “Fine.” Chase remembered to bestow another smile and add, “It was nice to meet you. You’re doing great,” before he left the room. If he’d cared about the guy, he would have stopped to give him some advice, like “cut to the real meat right at the start” or “remember your audience”, but the presentation had been so lackluster he couldn’t work up the interest to do it. Outside the room, where there was no one to see him, he leaned against the wall, put his head back and took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Every time Jillian’s name came up, he felt this way, adrenaline rising, heart rate quickening and breath shortening. Three years and still he felt this way. Even watching a Talent on TV didn’t affect him like this. But it would be another agent from STORM, not Jillian. Jillian was dead. He ran the safe house or more accurately, the safe floor, in her memory. That was why he used her name as part of the code. It hurt to think of her but he never wanted to forget. He took a moment to remember her laughter, the way she leaned against him to cop a feel at the most inappropriate times, her eyes flashing with delight when he responded with outrage or shock. Her smoky gray eyes had dominated her piquant face, her near-black hair provided a frame for her pale skin, almost vampire-like in its clear, transparent pallor.

8

Red Heat

It helped to think of her but when he remembered the car crash that had ended her life the familiar grief descended on him—a black cloud that never faded, never eased up however much he invoked it, like poking his tongue into an aching tooth to see if it hurt any less. It never did. But life went on and right now a STORM agent needed him. Chase straightened up, pulled his jacket straight and headed for the elevators. Jillian heard a discreet click. It had to be him. Her heart quickened its beat. She kept her back to the door and stared out over the view of Manhattan’s swankiest district. The distinctive brownstones down below proudly reminded the gleaming high-rises and modern, more pretentious palazzo-style buildings of the city’s origins. She’d read about this city all her life, visited it a couple of times on retreats with her parents and one memorable school trip but never had she dreamed she’d be here in one of New York’s flagship hotels, waiting for the owner. No, that was Caroline. Someone she mustn’t think about now. She had to become Jillian Miller, sassy big city girl, born in Queens, worked her way up in the garment district until she was managing a big outlet producing buttons and beads for the world and from there to jewelry designer, a profession she’d only just begun when she’d had the disastrous car crash. She knew New York because it was her home town. Jillian, the woman who’d met Chase Maynord at the first pitch for her jewelry and fallen instantly in love. Or so legend had it and all she had was the legend. Because Chase Maynord, hotel entrepreneur, was also a Sorcerer and a Talent. The genes he carried from some Hungarian ancestor made him a deviant, someone whose mind worked differently than everyone else’s and so formed a target for the IRDC. Odd that no other member of his family had the trait but his family was small, so maybe it hadn’t had the chance to come out in any other. She felt his presence, standing by the door, staring at her. A tingling awareness she couldn’t recall ever knowing before spread through her, starting at her spine and radiating out. Did all deviants give out this sensation? No, they couldn’t, or they wouldn’t have remained hidden for so long. He took a step and she heard his voice for the first time, speaking her name. Sure, she’d studied the films of him, heard his voice secondhand but this was real. And it sent shivers up her spine. Shivers of sensual need, shivers of—recognition.

9

Lynne Connolly

Chapter Two Slowly, Jillian turned around, keeping her eyes averted until the last moment, working hard to keep her expression clear. His eyes widened and he fixed her with a stare as blue as the ocean but much hotter. She couldn’t look away. He scanned her from the top of her head to her shoes and back again. “Jillian.” The sound barely passed his lips but it broke the tense hush. She opened her mouth, tried to speak but found her lips too dry and she passed her tongue over the lower one before closing her mouth again. His groan was a little louder but not much, more of a sigh, an exhalation that seemed to release something inside him. He took a step toward her but stopped when she instinctively shrank back and planted his feet wide apart instead, shoving his hands in his pockets. He seemed bigger in reality than in any of the photos she’d studied, more vital somehow. “Where have you been?” His voice was level but she saw the effort it took him to keep it that way from the strained tendons in his neck and the taut lines around his mouth. “Getting better.” She had her story pat but now she faced him, she found it far more difficult than she’d ever imagined. And she’d imagined it a lot, practiced it until she could do it in her sleep. Until now, when she faced him for the first time. “I couldn’t come back. Not before. I was too ill.” “The car crash?” She nodded, trying to remember the script or something resembling it. She’d been through this so many times in preparation for this moment. But it was too late. It had all gone, fled from her memory at the sight of this devastating male. From the top of his gleaming golden head to his highly polished Italian shoes, he exuded powerful masculinity and it took her breath away. “You’re better? Recovered?” She nodded again. “That’s all I need to know for now.” He took the three strides separating them and swept her into his arms, his mouth crashing down on hers as she gasped in shock. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as he devoured her like a man starving for her taste. His scent, hauntingly familiar, a cologne she knew but couldn’t place, mingled with the unmistakable aroma of hot, needy male. And it was her he wanted. Her or the person he thought she was.

10

Red Heat

At that moment, she wanted him. Whatever, whoever he was. When he flicked his tongue across her lips, shaping, tasting, then returned to the seam, she opened her mouth to him. And her body. She was lost. Anything he wanted, he could have. When she imagined this scenario, tried to prepare for it, this part was the hardest of all to prepare for. Not that Chase Maynord wasn’t the most powerful, gorgeous man she’d ever met but he would want her and she thought that would make her feel cheap and degraded. They’d known the sight of his lost love would lead to this but never had she imagined how much she’d want him too. He’d refused to take part in vital experiments her bosses had proposed to him but she couldn’t hold that against him now. Not with what he was holding against her. She wanted his hard, long, hot cock with a ferocity that astonished her, but she couldn’t deny her need. He tore his mouth from hers, only to search her face with a hunger she’d never experienced before. No one had ever wanted her with such intensity and it burned her shame and doubts away. She could do this. More than that, she wanted it. “Tell me you’re okay now,” he whispered, the intimacy searing her heart. “I’m okay now.” She felt far from okay, but she didn’t feel lost and alone anymore. “Do you still feel the same about me?” She choked. He was opening himself completely to her now and instead of feeling good about it, he made her feel cheap, because she was the liar here. She decided to lie as little as possible. “I don’t know.” He touched her cheek with one finger, as tender now as he’d been passionate a moment before but she saw in his eyes that he’d only banked it down. “What happened to you, sweetheart? Where have you been?” “I—I—” With one impatient gesture, he waved it away and curved his hand around her waist. “That doesn’t matter. Not now. Only this does. Do you still want me?” Still? “I want you.” That was no lie. She wanted this man, wanted him to take her and fuck her brains out so she wouldn’t have to think anymore. This man was gorgeous and right now he only had eyes for her. “I never stopped wanting you. Even when I thought you were dead I never stopped. It’s been driving me insane.” The fires returned to his eyes and he bent his head, stealing another kiss before he lifted her into his arms and headed for the bed. He laid her down and his hands went to his tie, ripping it off without looking away from her. His shirt lasted about ten seconds before it landed on the floor and she had an unimpeded view of his chest. Powerful, lightly sprinkled with hair a shade darker than the golden hair on his head, the expanse was marked with ridges that showed developed muscle. She wanted to touch it, know if it tasted as good as it looked. She sat up but when she would have lifted her top over her head, he leaned down and touched his lips to hers in a fleeting kiss, leaving her starving for more. He urged her down and she lay on the soft bedcover while he climbed up and over her,

11

Lynne Connolly

straddling her yearning body, owning it. She lifted her hands and pressed them on his hard, beautiful chest. It felt so good, hot and smooth with the slight roughness of hair and when she moved her hands, his nipples pressed hard against her palms. She wanted that heat against her skin. The only recent touches she could remember were impersonal ones from the doctors or friendly pats from her mentors. Nothing like this. She arched up to him and felt him grasp her blouse. When she opened her eyes all she could see was him, drinking her in. She wanted this. Whatever came next, she’d have this. He stripped the silk sheath over her head and returned to deal with her bra. He didn’t pause there but unzipped her pants and dragged them down her legs, taking her panties with them. He stripped away everything that lay between them with an urgency that echoed the raw longing she felt deep inside. Her pussy settled into a heavy throb and with every pulse she wanted him more. She’d worn pretty lacy lingerie that had cost a fortune just to tease him with and maybe give her a little more time to stay at least partly covered. That had been when she imagined this would be an ordeal and tried to work out how to keep out of bed for as long as she could. Now she wanted this with everything she had, needed him to fuck her hard, fuck her now. She tried to rationalize her thoughts, tell herself he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen but it was more than that. Much more, although right now she couldn’t tell and didn’t much care. Her thighs were wet. She could feel the hot dampness when she pressed them together but his knee came between them, urging them apart. Shyness assaulted her and she whimpered. He stopped and drew back, leaning over her. “What is it? Do you want me to stop? Please say you don’t want me to stop.” She looked up at him and caught her bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it and answering him. “It’s just—” “I’m going too fast.” He grimaced and dropped his chin. A lock of dark blond hair fell over his forehead and she watched it, fascinated, as it swept his brow. Everything about this man fascinated her. She’d studied him, learned him but it was like learning the pictures in the Sistine Chapel from a computer screen, then walking into the building itself and feeling the sheer impact of the paintings like a punch to the gut. How had she known that? She’d never been to Rome and she’d surely remember if she had. Just one of the mysteries that had plagued her recently, but her trainers had told her not to worry. False memories, they’d said. Oh God, when he looked at her like that she couldn’t remember anything. Passion soaked his eyes with an intensity that would have scared her if she hadn’t felt the same way. He lifted his leg as if to climb off her but she whimpered again and he stared down at her, a question in his eyes now. She tried to smile. “No, don’t stop. Try to imagine this is our first time together. It’s been so long…”

12

Red Heat

He rolled to one side of her and curved his arm around her waist, drawing her close. “I was too needy and I’m sorry.” He laughed. “I’m too overjoyed to have you walk back into my life. Do you want to get dressed?” She shook her head. “Just kiss me.” He did, taking her mouth so sweetly, so completely, she gave herself up to him right that moment. He cupped her cheek in one hand and she stroked his side, from chest to waist and back and a little lower. This time he didn’t stop her when she stroked just inside the waistband of his pants, searching for the fastening and unhooking it, going straight for his zipper. He groaned into their kiss before he pulled away to kiss the corner of her mouth, her chin and her throat, making a chain of kisses to the hollow at the base, lifting so she could push his pants farther down, hook her thumbs inside his underwear and pull that off too. He pushed her back and kicked off the rest of his clothes, his cock rising hard against her lower stomach, pressing damply against her, but she wanted him inside, hard and deep. Oh she wanted that so much and she pushed everything away except this man, this moment and this bed. When he discovered what she wanted, he’d hate her but not yet. Behind the mental barriers her handlers had helped her to erect, barriers even a powerful Sorcerer like Chase couldn’t break without hurting her, she let her senses relax. Regret simmered through her until he kissed her breast and everything dissolved in a sea of desire. His lips feathered over her nipple, then returned to lick. He curled his tongue over the rising peak and then his mouth opened and he took her in. One long draw left her gasping with the intensity of sensation that traveled from her nipple right down into her pussy and she squirmed until he put a hand on her hip to steady her, lifted away and blew cool air over her breast. At her anguished, “Chase!” he growled and lavished the same treatment on the other side. He licked and tasted her, taking his time, driving her crazy. But where he’d been urgent and needy a few moments before, now he seemed determined to learn every bit of her all over again. A thread of fear passed through her, that he might sense she wasn’t the person he thought but she forced it back. When he drifted over the thatch of curls at the apex of her thighs, she gasped and pushed up to him, all modesty gone. “Please.” He lifted his head. “Please what? Do you remember what you used to say?” She didn’t, but she could improvise. “Eat me, drink me, fuck me.” “Oh yeah, you remember fine.” His voice deepened with passion, he did what she wanted and nuzzled between her curls. His nose touched her clit and she flinched in shock. She’d never felt so sensitive before. Just that touch sent arcs of passion shooting through her. He sighed out over her, and she felt his breath touch every part of her sensitive slit. Shivers penetrated through to her center and she no longer cared what sounds she made.

13

Lynne Connolly

“God, Jillian, I’ve missed this. Tasting you, hearing those little noises you make, having your scent all around me.” And he buried his face in her pussy and she screamed. He sucked her clit into his mouth, stroked it with his tongue, tortured it. Better than any inquisition, any mind probe, right now she’d tell him anything he wanted to know. Just as well he wasn’t asking. When she would have squirmed out of his control, his sucking too much for her to bear, he growled, more like a shape-shifter than a Sorcerer, and held her down, his hands on her hips, stopping her moving away. He opened his mouth wider and drew on her pussy, her opening now wide, yearning for him to fill it. Just as she’d demanded, he drank her, devoured her and the thrills pulsing through her body increased, and she knew she’d bear more, but she needed to come. Needed it like she needed to breathe. Maybe breathing was overrated. Panting, gasping, she cried out his name and arched, moved into him as the ripples coalesced into one perfect moment and she came and came and came. Unaware of the pulses of her orgasm, just one big wave that overwhelmed her senses and anything she had left. Did she scream? She didn’t know, didn’t care. By then he had her mind concentrated on one thing. His cock in her pussy, deep, hard and please God now. “Chase, please!” “Shhh.” He slid back up to her, kissing her as he returned the way he’d come, giving her a moment to regain at least some of her senses. She gripped his wrist. “If you don’t fuck me now, I’ll kill you.” Dear Christ, she meant it. So much for rigorous training. He reached past her to the nightstand and found what he needed in the drawer and smiled when she gasped, shock filling her. She hadn’t even remembered that. Most Talents couldn’t pass on disease but Chase was a Sorcerer, the closest a Talent could get to being human, normal. She was on the Pill, but they still needed that condom. Chase paused, touched his lips to hers. Tasting her juices on his lips rocketed her straight back to needing him. “This is a very good hotel. We think of all our customers’ needs.” He tore open the packet and sat back on his heels to sheath himself, pausing when he lifted his gaze, lingering to caress her visually. “Jillian, you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this, how many nights I’ve tried to pretend that you’re with me, just out of reach, that if I stretched out just a little I’d find you and pull you close. Now it’s real. It is real, isn’t it?” His open vulnerability shamed her but desire superseded everything. “Oh yes.” She smiled up at him, delicious apprehension suffusing her. “It had better be.” He came down to her, braced his hands on either side of her and kissed her, while he nudged her legs farther apart, slid between her legs and came to rest at the top of her cleft. He slid his cock against her clit and she arched and rubbed herself against him.

14

Red Heat

“You could come again just like that, couldn’t you? So could I. You feel so good. Fuck, so wet and hot.” With a sigh, he slipped down and into her. Drenched as she was, she still felt a slight resistance when he entered her and the tight fit when he pushed deeper inside. His low groan echoed hers. He withdrew and sank back. “Open your eyes, Jillian.” She hadn’t realized she’d closed them but when she obeyed, she saw him staring at her, fire flickering in the blue depths of his irises. The sight made her clench her pussy muscles around him and tension filled her in an instant of excitement that drove her to a new level of awareness. He touched his lips to her forehead, the tip of her nose and her lips in a series of gestures that felt like a ritual, a solemn sealing of a promise made long ago. No way could it be anything like that but when he lifted and drove inside her again, he caught the spot that drove her up and over the top, stimulating a part of her she wasn’t aware even existed. Her cry sparked something inside him and he went wild, fucking her hard, reaching deeper with every stroke until she felt completely open to him and wanted to open more. His breaths became the timing by which they both existed, each exhalation punctuated by a tiny sound at the back of his throat, a nascent groan she wanted— needed to hear. An alarm bell sounded deep inside her but she ignored it. This is how they do it, the voice of her handler said, as clearly as if he stood inside the room with them. This is how they seduce and entice people to do exactly what they want. But Chase hadn’t persuaded her, not in that way, no mental coercion, just pure want. She was doing what they wanted her to do, getting him to let her in completely, trust her with his life. He took her flying again, when he lifted his upper body away from hers and thrust into her so her breasts quivered with each stroke. He watched and she met his gaze with a collision that forced her to believe everything she’d been told about him. He was a sorcerer in every sense of the word and he’d enchanted her with his body, with his words, with his total acceptance of her as the woman he wanted above all others. She held on to every speck of her mind but he didn’t try to enter her there. She expected an attack but he seemed intent on their fierce fucking. Not a wisp of sensation not her own touched her mind and she’d know it because they showed her the signs. Someone as powerful as Chase might force his way in, might insinuate his mind into hers to perform the control Sorcerers were famous for but he didn’t. He closed his eyes and groaned. His balls, nestled against her, tightened and throbbed and she pulled him close for a kiss and gripped his hips with her thighs when his cock jerked deep inside her body. Holding him close, not letting him go. Ever. The thought jolted her. She couldn’t mean that, it had to be the heat of the moment, nothing else. With Chase Maynord slumped against her, catching his breath, his body

15

Lynne Connolly

still propped on his elbows so as not to squash her, Jillian knew bliss. For the first time ever nothing mattered but this moment of togetherness and mutual vulnerability. He rolled to one side, taking her with him, his cock still deep inside her. Gradually, his breathing quieted and his chest raised and lowered regularly as if he slept. He couldn’t have been getting much rest recently, because even after sex as great as that he would have surely tried to join their minds. That was what Sorcerers did. They used sex to slip inside their lovers’ minds, making a place for themselves so they could enter at will and do whatever they wanted. Jillian lay still, trying to make sense of what had just happened, trying to reconcile it with her mission and what she knew about Talents. Untamed, unfettered Talents were dangerous. They were capable of so much they had to be assimilated and contained. And although they didn’t have the long lifespan and superhuman strength of other Talents, Sorcerers were the most dangerous of all because they controlled minds. Yet this man, breathing deeply, his arms securely around her, his heart beating next to hers, held her as gently as she would hold a small bird. He cherished her, cared for her and to betray him was, at this moment, unthinkable. But she would have to think about it. That was why she was here.

16

Red Heat

Chapter Three Chase looked down at Jillian’s slumbering form. He’d taken her in such a whirlwind of passion, he hadn’t entered her mind, his body too hungry to be denied. He wouldn’t do it while she was asleep, he couldn’t do that to her. He would wait. He picked up a strand of her hair and wound it around his finger. So soft, so silky, gleaming in the light streaming through the windows. He’d made love to her first in this room and she’d lived here for a while. That was why he’d made this floor the safe area for STORM, so he could keep this room. On the opposite side lay his apartment, on the two other sides were the cells and the guest rooms, where Talents could stay or prisoners were contained. He’d move her to his place soon. He wasn’t letting her go now. Although he didn’t know where she’d been or what she’d been doing, when he walked into the room the intervening years slid away. A time when Talents were still hidden, the world was simpler and Jillian was his. The nightmare of the car accident haunted him day and night. He always had his suspicions but nobody discovered anything other than it was an accident. She was driving across an intersection and some fucker without insurance hit her broadside. And that was it. No witnesses, just a sickening empty feeling in his stomach that made him get out of bed at three a.m. to go look for her. And he’d found her. What was left of her. His stomach lurched but he steadied himself by looking at her. Alive. Unscathed and his again. This time he’d hire a chauffeur for her, he’d take such good care of her she’d never—no, that was stupid. The Jillian he knew wouldn’t take that from him. He smiled, remembering the arguments when he’d wanted to spoil her and she’d turned him down. He wanted to hold her tight but he’d wake her, so he’d wait. Carefully, he laid the lock of hair back and frowned when he saw a light mark just behind her ear. A thin white line, easy to miss but this close he saw it. A deliberate cut and so fine it had to be from surgery. She opened her eyes and he saw the flare of shock before she masked it. Why would she do that, deliberately cover an emotion he could understand only too well? Shock came in many forms and he wasn’t immune to it. When he thought of the way he’d first seen her today, it still thrummed through him. But now she brought only pleasure. Her skin warm against his, just as it should be. “Hi.” He stroked the back of his forefinger down her cheek and neck to touch her throat.

17

Lynne Connolly

She lay still when he wanted her to move into him but he wouldn’t force her. Besides, he remembered, he needed to know more about her, where she’d been for the last three years. Why she hadn’t come to him before. Now she smiled and answered him. “Hi.” But now he didn’t need his psi senses to spot her wariness. She waited for him to speak, so he took his cue. “What happened, Jillian? Where have you been?” Now that she was awake, he could enter her mind, so he slipped in and felt the contact like silk against his skin. Perfect and right. He recognized the patterns, the way her mind fit and worked. It was all so familiar but when he tried to slide deeper, he met resistance like he’d never known before. New, different and unwanted. “Who did that?” She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I did.” He stayed where he was, leaning up on one elbow, but moved a little closer. “Tell me, Jillian. From the beginning.” She closed her eyes and because he had his mind in hers, he felt the way she gathered her thoughts. She’d always done that and in the same order—gathered everything together. Opening her eyes, she stared up at him. He frowned but didn’t say anything. Something was different. But then, after three years, he could expect that. “I don’t remember the accident at all. Nothing. I know there was one because I woke up in hospital and people were calling me by a name I didn’t recognize. Caroline, they said. Caroline Cross. I didn’t know any Caroline Cross, at least I don’t think I did. But I was badly hurt, and they didn’t think I’d live. And in any case, I couldn’t remember who I was.” She swallowed. “So I assumed they were right and I was wrong and I was this Cross person.” He caught it then. Something wrong, something disturbing the pattern, a thread of a lie. He drew back and watched her carefully. “You know I’m in the outer part of your mind.” She nodded. “Yes. It felt good. Feels good.” “Yes it does.” Like velvet against the most sensitive part of his body, soft, warm and perfect. “So tell me more. Everything, Jillian.” She blinked and the movement enabled her to break eye contact. He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Hey.” He felt her distress. But he had to know. He’d been shown a mangled corpse they told him was Jillian. They’d identified her dental records and confirmed it. So how did that happen? A single tear glimmered in each eye but she blinked them away before they fell. He felt her efforts to retain her equilibrium and he lent her strength, because he wanted what she wanted. “Try to tell me more. What happened?” “I can’t remember, Chase. I have to go on what they told me. They said it sometimes happened after a trauma.”

18

Red Heat

“Retrograde memory loss. Yes, it happens. The mind blocks out the trauma and the incidents leading up to it.” “More than that, Chase. I lost everything. The head trauma caused it, they said.” She stared up at him so guilelessly he had to believe her but that thread, the thin, glimmering thread of tightly entwined lies remained. Maybe she did remember but didn’t want to. He’d find out. “They scooped me up and came straight to hospital, found my details in my purse. The woman with me, the driver, had died instantly and the car caught fire. I was lucky to get out alive, they told me.” He hadn’t known there was anyone in the car with her. They hadn’t said anything about that. Something didn’t add up. All in good time. He touched the scar behind her ear. “But not completely unscathed.” She shook her head, dislodging his finger. “No. The next year I had lots of operations. Caroline had good health insurance, so maybe it’s a good thing they thought I was her.” Chase quelled his instinctive rejection of that. He could have afforded anything she needed. If only he’d known! Her hand touched his face, so gently, and wiped away the single tear he hadn’t known he’d shed. “They found me an apartment and when the worst was over, I went to Caroline’s home town. She lives—lived—in New York State, near Alberton, worked as a housekeeper for a wealthy family. You know it?” He shook his head but said nothing. “I found out more about her. I thought I was her, you see. She didn’t have any family. So there was no one to check with or research but I saw photos of Caroline they said were pictures of me.” She swallowed and reached for his hand. Chase was only too glad to give it. Anxiety crept through his gut. Something was wrong. He had to know, so he could prepare himself for whatever was to come. Because there would be repercussions. Nothing was straightforward anymore. He interlaced their fingers. “Tell me, sweetheart. You thought you were Caroline?” “Yes.” “And the burned-out corpse in the car was identified as you.” He paused, remembering that nightmare. “There wasn’t enough of her left to identify her but they said the dental records proved it. Something’s wrong here.” She shook her head. “Just the confusion in the accident.” “Who was Caroline Cross?” “Me. As far as I knew.” “You didn’t know anyone called Caroline Cross, although you had contacts in the jewelry trade. You used to design pieces, do you remember?” She shook her head. “I don’t remember anything, Chase. At least, not until the other day. And it never came back, not all of it.”

19

Lynne Connolly

He lifted his arm to cradle her head. “I can help with that. Go on. Tell me what happened.” “I was badly hurt, Chase. My face was cut up from the broken glass and I had broken limbs. Both arms, one leg. Broken ribs, bruises, you name it. Hurt so bad they didn’t think I’d live.” He frowned. It didn’t make sense. If Caroline and Jillian were in the same accident, someone should have contacted him. They hadn’t made a secret of their affair and Jillian had contacts she could have used to reach him. But nobody from the hospital ever contacted him or anyone else he knew. “Which hospital?” “St. Jude’s.” Easy enough to check. And he would check. “They moved me to a specialist unit when they knew I wasn’t going to die. Not right away, anyway.” “Were your lungs damaged?” “No.” “But the fire that destroyed the car started immediately after the crash, they said.” She bit her lip. “Someone dragged me clear. They never found out who.” She was lying again. He sensed it in her mind but he didn’t show any of it in his face. He had to delve deeper but when he tried, her mind resisted and she winced in pain. And he didn’t know why she’d lie. In any case, how did she know that was a lie? After the accident, she’d be unconscious. “Go on.” “Do you believe me?” He gazed down at her face. “Of course I do.” He bent to kiss her and the touch of her soft lips against his nearly drove him to consign everything to perdition. Fuck everything else, he had her back and that was what really mattered. Too many years of interrogating suspects nagged at him. He had to know, to clear it up between them, so he drew back but kept his expression soft and caring. It wasn’t difficult. He’d never cared so much before. She passed her tongue over her lower lip, as if she were collecting his taste. He loved it and he wanted nothing more than to follow his tongue with hers, touch her lip and then delve into her mouth. He summarized, trying to keep his mind off her, but he knew that wouldn’t last for long. “So the accident, the one they’d told me you died in, involved two people, not one, and you were taken to a hospital and told you were Caroline Cross? So where have you been since you got out of hospital?” “Being Caroline.” A small crease appeared between her brows. “But last month I started remembering. I thought they were dreams at first, just shadows. I remembered you, I could see you but I only had your name, Chase. I hadn’t had memories before but these were real, they felt real. I couldn’t rest. Then I heard a name in my mind, Jillian Miller. And the number of this room.” She swallowed. “Last week I saw a show on the 20

Red Heat

TV about the deaths. You know, one of those shows about dangerous driving in the city but they talked about the death of Jillian Miller in a car crash, they showed your picture, then one of us together. Me, the face I saw every morning in the mirror. So I thought I’d try it out, follow the lead and see if it was real.” No longer able to resist, he bent and kissed her, drawing back with a wry smile. “And I pounced on you.” “Yes.” “And you didn’t resist.” She shook her head, her dark hair clinging to the pillow. “When you kissed me, it felt right.” “It is right.” He stroked her face, drifted his fingers down to the hollow of her throat and then to the underside of her breast, a caress she’d always enjoyed. She enjoyed it now, half-closed her eyes and sighed softly. “It’s us, sweetheart. You’ll stay?” She opened her eyes and laughed. “You can’t mean it.” “Every word.” “When I remembered you or recalled your name, I knew you and I knew that you would have made a new life for yourself. Then I watched more TV and found out who your friends were. I’d never bothered before. The celebrity channels didn’t interest me. And the TV and all the news.” He didn’t know if it was from fear or repulsion. He couldn’t tell. “You know what I am?” “Some.” “I mean precisely.” “A Talent.” “Do you know what kind, sweetheart?” At least she didn’t flinch at the endearment. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it? “No. I was so shocked when I saw you, I didn’t take it in. You see, all while this was happening, when—Talents came out of their closet, I was in and out of hospital. I saw you on the hospital TV when I was waiting for a checkup and I didn’t turn the volume up in time for the introduction.” His mouth flattened at the reminder. “Yes. The bastards caught me off-balance when I was coming out of STORM headquarters and I was so sick of the whole business I told them what I was. My father would have hated that.” “Why?” “Don’t you know?” He’d told her, he remembered it. But now she shook her head, so he told her again. “My parents are old money. Old New York money. They hated any difference from their norm.” His mouth tightened when he remembered just how much they hated it and what they’d done but no time for that now. Brief explanations were best. They couldn’t catch up completely in one afternoon. “Dad didn’t disown me, I was his only child and likely to remain that way because there weren’t any after me. 21

Lynne Connolly

So I was it for him, his heir. He trained me to take over the business but threatened me that if I ever joined the animals, as he called them, he’d disown me. When I was old enough, I called his bluff. But by then he’d divorced my mother and started on a series of bimbos. As he got older, they got younger. My mother saw it as a desperate search for a fertile woman, to prove he could have kids after all. He wasn’t having any more kids so he was stuck with me but he hated me from then on. Worse that I could do the job he’d trained me for.” She touched his cheek and it felt like a benison, forgiveness for something he hadn’t done and all the sweeter for it. “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head and felt her skin brush against his. “It doesn’t matter anymore. The old man was vindictive and mean. Utterly selfish. And as he told me, mongrels weren’t welcome in his social circles.” He smiled at her small whimper of distress. “I don’t care, truly. I didn’t care for his friends or anything else. But I owed it to the people who worked at the Timothy hotels to make a success of it and I did my best. Still do.” “So what are you?” She raked her fingers through his hair. “Apart from a gorgeous specimen of a man, of course.” He laughed and caught her hand to kiss it. “Thank you for that. Do you remember what a Sorcerer is?” “Kind of.” A flash of fear shadowed her eyes, immediately gone. He was used to the fear when people looked at him, knowing what he was and what he could do, but the easy way she vanquished it filled him with happiness. “Every human being is born with infinite possibilities. One of those is psi powers— telekinesis, telepathy, those kinds of powers. We all have them. But most babies lock them away and the psi senses starve and die from lack of attention. Sorcerers are born without the ability to block. We have to construct our own barriers against psychic bombardment and we have to learn how to control what we have in order to do that. Nobody knows a mind like a Sorcerer. We’re descended from a race of mid-Europeans centered in Hungary who have a genetic anomaly, so we are abnormal deviants, like some people call us.” “No!” He kissed her again for that. “Yes. But it made us stronger, not weaker. The strongest among us choose to remain virgins and conserve their powers.” She wriggled against him and reminded him, not that he needed the reminder, of his cock, hard once more and yearning for her. He laughed and rolled, swinging her on top of him. “What can I say? I’m not one of those, in case you hadn’t guessed. So you’re here and I’m here—what do we do now?” Still laughing, she sat up and regarded his cock, now rearing between them. A drop of juice seeped from the tip and he caught his breath when she dipped her head and lapped it up. Her tongue across his skin was close to heaven and when she sucked it into her mouth he was there.

22

Red Heat

She let her teeth graze the groove where the head gave way to the shaft and he groaned, arching, shoving more into her mouth. Her reaction was to dip lower to take even more. Her hand grasped the part of him not enclosed in her mouth and worked it as she sucked and released, sucked and released, her mouth so like her pussy and yet so different. It drove him insane. Insane enough to merge their minds deeper, something he’d tried not to do until she was ready but this was an instinctive move, without thought, only the need to get closer to her and share the incredible sensations she was giving to him. Beautiful, she was beautiful inside and out. And he wanted it all. He wanted to possess every part of her, own it, use it, make her his. Thrills chased up his spine, each stronger than the last, each more than he expected. He pushed his hands into her thick mane of hair and cradled her skull. At first the ridges and bumps seemed natural but he discerned straight lines, fine ridges. Jesus, she’d been hurt bad. Even through his current ecstasy he knew a deep regret that he hadn’t been there for her when she’d needed him most. He’d promised to love her for eternity but he hadn’t looked for her hard enough when she’d needed him the most. He’d never forgive himself for that. His pang of guilt mingled with what felt like the top of his head blowing off as he came. Hot, shuddering throbs filled his body and he lost the ability to think. He nearly lost the ability to breathe. He couldn’t articulate anymore, only cry out and he found himself crying her name. Joy filled every pore of him and he held her steady while she milked him of every drop of cum. His cries filled the room, uncontrollably heating him even more. She slid away and only then did he realize what he’d done, how he’d held her so she couldn’t release him if he wanted to. He released her with a cry and bent to lift her into his arms. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. You make me insane.” Instead of pulling away, she nestled closer. “Why are you sorry?” Her voice sounded thready and unsure and he wanted to comfort her. He was such a bastard. “I wouldn’t let you pull away.” She growled and pressed a kiss to his throat. “If I’d wanted to pull away, you would have let me.” She drew back and looked up at him. “Wouldn’t you?” He sank back down on to the bed, taking her with him, holding her close because he never wanted to let her go. “I don’t know. You do something to me, Jillian. Every time with you is deeper, harder, more intense and I lose control.” Taking her chin in his hand, he tilted her face up. “You know I’ve been taught from before I can remember to retain control. I never lose it, never. Except with you.” She caught her breath, he heard the indrawn gasp. “You can’t mean that.” “I do. I’m in deep. And I’ll never forgive myself that I wasn’t here when you needed me. I should have looked closer, should have believed my instincts that refused to believe you’d died. After your accident you didn’t feel dead to me but they insisted, they told me there wasn’t any doubt.” He frowned. “Why did they do that?” 23

Lynne Connolly

“I don’t know.” But she did. He felt a movement in her mind. He only penetrated the exterior part, the part that any Talent could access but even there some things puzzled him. Everything was too perfect. People’s minds were usually messy, especially non-Talents, with thoughts scattered around, like a computer that hadn’t been defragmented. But Jillian had an uncluttered, beautifully ordered consciousness. Everything was where he expected to find it and nothing was out of place. Like a virgin Sorcerer or an automaton. Or someone whose thoughts had been put there, instead of growing naturally. It could be the result of the accident. “How long were you unconscious afterward?” She frowned, thinking, and pulled up the answer. “I don’t remember much for around three months after but it was all operations. They put me under for some spells, when they were doing some of the painful procedures. They did some of the operations together when they could, like when they were setting the bones and the plastic surgery—” she broke off. “Do I look like I did?” “Exactly.” He cupped her head again. “Stunning. All I want to see.” She wriggled against him and he knew, if he didn’t leave this bed now, there was no hope for him, so he sat up. “Come and shower. Then we need to go into STORM.” He didn’t imagine the fear that shadowed her eyes or the shot of terror that crossed her mind before she repressed it. “What are you talking about? Why do I have to go there?” “I want you back in my life, sweetheart. Every part of it. So I want you scanned and I want you to get it all back. The security clearance, everything.” “But it’s not covert anymore, everybody knows about Talents now. There’s no need, surely.” “You still have to be cleared. We still have our secrets. Don’t worry. I’ll be with you.” She swallowed and he wanted to soothe the shadows from her eyes but he knew the sooner they went in, the sooner they could make plans for their future. And details niggled at his mind, things he needed to clarify. Perhaps if someone not directly involved with her could give him advice, he’d feel more comfortable. Jillian had taken him so completely by surprise that his emotions were still whirling and she didn’t seem to realize how unusual that was for Sorcerers. Trained from childhood onward to control his emotions and his powers, in full control for years, even when she’d been with him before, he still had to come to terms with what she’d done. Their love had grown before but when he’d seen her standing before the window, everything returned in full force and hit him with the impact of a subway train. All the “should”s flew out of his mind the minute he had her in his arms and all he could think of was taking her one more time before she left him again. It now seemed she was going to be here a lot longer.

24

Red Heat

He didn’t let her out of his sight, taking her into the shower, washing her, inevitably making love to her again and waiting while she dressed before finding a pair of jeans and t-shirt in the closet for himself. Talents used this room to change and rest in and since shape-shifters could arrive naked and often did, he had clothes on hand for them. Since they were going to STORM, he didn’t bother with the business suit he left on the floor. Specially trained staff cleaned and served this part of the hotel, staff who knew better than to gossip. He’d find his suit cleaned and pressed and delivered back to his apartment tomorrow. As far as he could see, all Jillian had in her case were dark pants and pale tops, either shirts or t-shirts. He’d have to see about that and her distressingly plain underwear. But they couldn’t linger. Now that he’d made up his mind to take her in, he wanted it over and done and the confirmation of her identity secure, her acceptance back into the Talented community as his partner complete.

25

Lynne Connolly

Chapter Four Jillian walked by Chase’s side out of the hotel. Only the staff recognized him, and they smiled or nodded as he walked by, even the more junior members. “You’re friends with them all?” she wondered. “I try to be.” He put a hand against the small of her back and they walked toward the doors at the side of the building. The porter opened the door for them and exchanged a smile with him on the way through. His car waited outside but he paused to answer her question, although he took the keys from the attendant. “My father ruled by fear. If a member of staff put a foot wrong, he fired him on the spot. Plenty more where they came from, he said. When I inherited, the Timothy group was just another in a group of luxury hotels, with no distinctive mark that put it apart from the others. So I decided to go with the ‘what you’d like your home to be like’ angle and insist on friendly, efficient service. If you treat the staff well, they’ll respond well, on the whole. Have you seen the ads?” She nodded. “Very clever.” She recalled the “home from home—and then some” ads currently running on billboards and in the upmarket magazines. “Thanks. But the ad agency I put on to the idea refined it and made it a talking point. So I employ people I want smiling and friendly. That means giving bonuses, time off when they need it and trying to foster the pleasant atmosphere.” “Wow.” He grinned and took her around to the passenger side, opening the door for her. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s still a business. They don’t work hard, they take advantage of me and they’re gone.” His explanation only made the burden of her guilt heavier. She’d expected to find a tough man, someone who drove his staff hard and employed the cheapest labor around. She’d expected a selfish person, so although she’d been prepared to sleep with him as part of her mission, she hadn’t expected this. From the moment he’d faced her in that room upstairs, things had started to go wrong. Or right. The perplexity only added to the uncertainty she felt every day and had learned to live with as part of her condition. Any more and she’d die of terminal confusion. She hadn’t expected his total possession of her, the way he saw to her satisfaction before his own and her own emotional response to him. His staff actually seemed to like him. According to her handlers at the IRDC, he was a hard man and a slave driver. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. In Washington, the politicians were making plans to compel Talents to enter exploratory laboratories, so their gifts could be explored and used to benefit all. The news always contained an item about a Talent who had used someone, exploited a human being or a demonstration of another of the awesome 26

Red Heat

powers Talents owned. People were scared. So was she, until this morning. Until she’d met him face-to-face and instead of sacrificing herself, found herself treated with consideration and a deep passion the likes of which she’d never known before. But the more she repeated the lessons she’d learned, the less they convinced her. Chase got in the car and paused to lay his hand over hers. “Don’t worry. I’ll be with you all the time.” So perhaps it would start now. Perhaps his previous behavior was all to calm her, prepare her for what was to come. She’d felt his mind in hers earlier but her handlers had been careful to make sure she knew about that. They’d used a sensitive to simulate the sensation and teach her how to cope with it. The powerful barriers they’d helped her to erect would take care of the rest. She might never be Caroline again but one day she might go back. She missed it now. Here, in a luxury sports car, sitting on butter-soft leather seats next to the most handsome man she’d ever met, she wanted her own apartment, her own kitchen, her own bed. Although she’d worked as live-in help, she’d always had her own space, somewhere of her own. Chase drove well, piloting the sleek car through the heavy traffic. “What kind of car is this?” He cast a smiling glance at her. Even his gaze bathed her in warmth. “An Aston Martin DBS. Would you like one?” She caught her breath. Before she could utter the revealing affirmative, she steeled herself to reply. “I can’t drive a car like this, especially in the big city.” He frowned. “You’ve driven others. You never had any problem before. Did you forget how to drive?” He made a right. Shit, what a stupid mistake to make. It served her right for letting her mind drift back to Caroline. Jillian, she was Jillian. “The accident took some things away from me. Caroline didn’t like to drive in the city.” He nodded and swung the car into an underground car lot. Jillian couldn’t repress a shudder. Even though this wasn’t the main entrance, she’d studied as much of this building as they could discover. And she knew this entrance. STORM, once covert, now out in the open, was the specialist agency for Talents. A place where people who turned into creatures of myth, where people who needed blood to live met and planned their next move. A place of nightmare for someone like her. And she was about to subject herself to examination. She had her plans. She would only allow Chase to do it and because he was invested in her, he’d agree. After that, she’d be in, ready to follow orders. For the good of everyone, she reminded herself. While Chase parked and came around the car to let her out, she had breathing space to still her mind and prepare herself for the ordeal to come. This would be her most testing time. She had to pass this.

27

Lynne Connolly

Nobody was about but behind them a steel door closed off the daylight, leaving them in the gloom. Chase took her to the elevator and stole a kiss while they waited for the car to arrive. “You want some elevator sex? She forced a laugh and, shocked, felt her arousal dampen her panties. How could she do that with the tension she was under? It was as if she had a switch he knew precisely how to push and what pressure to apply. He held her loosely by her upper arms but his heat seared through to her bare skin, although she’d worn a light jacket against the early autumn chill. “We’ll have to see to that. You never know who’ll find you when you do something like that.” His hand smoothed her waist, lingered over her bottom. “You remember?” Her arousal spiked, zooming up to a level where her juices increased and she felt herself softening for him. Chase didn’t seem surprised but held her closer, nuzzling her temple with soft kisses. “Still haven’t lost that particular urge, eh?” She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant but the elevator arrived and the doors slid open. She shuddered when she got into the little steel-encased car but frowned, not knowing where that crazy reaction had come from or what it meant. Sure, she could get excited when he talked to her but something had spurred a reaction. Elevator sex? No, that wasn’t it. When she thought of elevator sex, the only way her body heated was if she thought of Chase as the other participant and she already knew he made her hot under any circumstances. She was still pondering the problem when the elevator doors slid open and a curious pair of eyes regarded her. They belonged to a heavyset man in a security uniform, who nodded to Chase. “Ms. Reynolds is expecting you, Mr. Maynord.” Chase nodded and bent to peer into the eyepiece of a machine. It clicked. He stood aside, motioning her to come forward. “Your turn. It’s an iris print.” He grinned. “Shape-shifters have to record their prints twice.” The distraction of her unexpected arousal had actually helped Jillian to get her tension levels down, so now she bent and peered at the bright light in the machine. A click and it had taken her print. She gave her forefinger prints when requested and let Chase take her hands to wipe them clean with the towelette the security man provided her with. His touch soothed and aroused her. He let her go first but now his hand on the small of her back felt like restriction rather than guidance. They walked through an office with cubicles, with doors off to one side. It looked like the IRDC office Jillian had been in. Or any number of others. People sat in front of computer screens, or chatting at the photocopier, or grabbing a cup of water. People. No dragons, griffins or vampires that she could see. But how would she know?

28

Red Heat

Chase didn’t say anything until they reached a door at the end. They passed through an outer office. Chase nodded to the young man sitting at the desk there and rapped on the inner door. After a peremptory “Come!” they entered. To find a well-furnished office redolent with the scent of freshly made coffee and a middle-aged woman, a little on the short side. Her short, gray hair should have made her appear masculine but although this woman was obviously in command, nobody would ever mistake her for a man. She wore a dark green skirt and short-sleeved taupe top. The jacket that matched the skirt hung loosely on a chair behind the massive desk. And she exuded control, although nothing about her person shouted it. “Jillian Miller.” She stated it like a fact and Jillian relaxed a tad. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Welcome back.” She indicated the leather sofa. “Take a seat.” On the table before the sofa rested a pot of coffee, cups and cream and sugar, as well as a green cardboard file. Jillian sat, Chase took a seat next to her and Ms. Reynolds sat opposite. After she poured coffee, she picked up the file. “I had this pulled from archives when I heard.” She glanced at Chase. “You should have called me earlier.” “I was engaged.” “I bet.” She flipped through the file and Jillian caught sight of photographs and typed forms. “We checked out her address, the one you told us, but they’d all gone. Everyone, no one left. We searched the place, but they’d cleaned it out. No leads there. I’m running a search on Caroline Cross. So far we have her living in an upscale house as a housekeeper and coming to New York occasionally for shopping and the theater.” She glanced up at Jillian. “Do you know how you knew her?” Jillian shook her head. “Until a few days ago, I thought I was Caroline Cross.” She still did. She shoved the thought aside. Not here. “I didn’t remember any Jillian Miller.” Ms. Reynolds shot her a sharp glance. “Then your memories were probably superimposed on you.” She shook her head. “I didn’t remember Caroline Cross either. I was told I was her in hospital and I had to believe them.” Chase squeezed her hand then moved away on the pretext of picking up his coffee. Jillian felt alone. “So you took her life.” Jillian picked up her own coffee and cupped her hands around the warmth. “I thought it was mine. They told me Jillian Miller died, that she had just given me a ride to the station to get my train. I didn’t know any different. I couldn’t remember a thing. Caroline had extensive medical insurance, which I needed, so it was probably best I didn’t question it at the time.” “Yes.” Ms. Reynolds flipped over a page. “In fact, Jillian Miller was at university with Caroline Cross. That’s where you met and you had an on-and-off acquaintance. You didn’t know each other very well but enough to say hello. The IRDC obliterated Caroline’s presence in the accident, removed you before the police arrived and then claimed you were the body in the car. They planted dental and other identification, so

29

Lynne Connolly

you could switch. Then they went to work to heal you and make you what you were before. “What work did you have done, Jillian? Do you remember that?” Jillian hated the cynical tone but for all she knew, Ms. Reynolds could be like that with everyone. A knock sounded on the door and after another “Come!” several people entered the room. Now Jillian understood why more cups were stacked on the table. Two men entered the room and one of them stared at Jillian, shocked. The second, of whipcord build and haunted eyes, just stared. “Wow.” The tallest man spoke first, one with sharp features and glittering, dark eyes. When he turned to cast a questioning look at Ms. Reynolds, Jillian saw his swath of dark hair was tied back neatly. It didn’t soften his hard-edged features, the blade of a nose or the intense dark eyes. “A clone or the real thing?” Jillian stiffened but Chase put his hand over hers and squeezed again. This time he didn’t take it away. “The real thing.” Ms. Reynolds turned a frowning look onto him. “That remains to be seen. I will let you do the examination. I know you planned to ask.” “Demand,” Chase said quietly. “You’re in no position to demand.” This woman, Ann Reynolds, had no softness about her character. The pale, carefully powdered face, the light makeup and pink lipstick indicated a woman of compassion but Jillian doubted she had any. At last, someone who vindicated her opinion of Talents. Soulless, selfish, determined on her own agenda. She stared at Chase but he didn’t give way. His hand tightened over Jillian’s. “I meant,” Ms. Reynolds said, “that if I find your examination cursory or unsatisfactory or if you hold anything back from me, I’ll ask another Sorcerer to do it again.” Without waiting for him to reply, she turned to Jillian, gave her a beatific smile that made her look more like everyone’s favorite grandmother rather than the head of an organization that suddenly wielded immense power on the world stage. “Do call me Ann, dear.” Shocking. Jillian tried hard to feel shocked at the mild endearment but amusement colored her thoughts instead. “Ann.” It sounded right for this formidable woman. She’d seen her on TV from time to time, talking about the rights of Talents and their meek-asmild-kitten qualities but she was mortal, human, whatever, just like Jillian herself. Until she ran into the sheer personality that was Ann Reynolds she hadn’t fully understood. That was how a balding, portly, middle-aged man could run a company full of young, fit, ambitious executives and how a seventy-year-old could control a sports team full of the best athletes in the world. And how a mortal woman could control an organization of powerful, long-lived beings. Sheer force of personality. Now Ann indicated the two men, one lounging by the door, the other now sitting by her side, helping himself to coffee. “Jack Hargreaves, jaguar shape-shifter and the

30

Red Heat

nearest to human we have. He was converted and he’s only been a shape-shifter for six months. He’s currently acting as the researcher for Team Red.” Jillian exchanged a nod with the man still standing who, despite his height and powerful but athletic build, could pass for an ordinary executive. Nothing about him stood out except a brooding, morbid power and a sense of containment that made him slightly scary. Ann indicated the man still standing. “Ricardo Gianetti, dragon shape-shifter.” Ricardo’s smile reached further, his dark eyes gleaming with warmth. “Very pleased to meet you, Jillian. Again.” His smile broadened as he regarded Chase, who had stiffened. “If she had total amnesia, perhaps there’s hope for me yet.” “Not a chance,” Chase growled. “Keep your distance, Gianetti.” Gianetti gave a mock bow. “Anything you say.” “The other member of the team is currently unavailable.” Ann checked her watch. “He’ll arrive when the sun goes down.” Jillian frowned. Ann gave her a sweet smile. “He’s a vampire. He works best between sunset and sunrise and he’s been on extended night shift recently.” Rare, secretive, vampires rarely came out of the closet with their Talented colleagues. Rumors about them abounded, although Reynolds and other spokespeople for Talents claimed they were just like anyone else, apart from their tendency to need blood. Fresh blood from the vein, not donated. Vampire bars were springing up all over the city but there were more wannabes than the real thing there. There had been reports that vampires were being kidnapped. So vampires didn’t come out as readily as other Talents. And she had no desire to meet one now. Chase got to his feet, holding out his hand for her. “Let’s get this over with.” She stared at him. “We’re not doing it here?” Chase shook his head, his mouth grim. “We’ll do it properly, in one of the security rooms. I don’t want to have to do this twice.” Ann rose too. “Quite right. A waste of time and resources to have to put another Sorcerer on the job. But one way or another, before you leave this building, we’ll know for sure.” Then she knew why the other two men were here. They weren’t here to meet her or reacquaint themselves with her, they were here as bodyguards. Or just guards. To stop her running and to stop Chase doing it too. She might have Chase on her side but these people were most definitely not. They left the office and went back through the large one outside. The sound stilled as they passed through but Jillian didn’t fool herself that it was on her account. Those three men were purely gorgeous in their own ways. Handsome, superior Chase, Ricardo Gianetti with his air of barely controlled violence and Jack Hargreaves and his air of loss and indifference. Indifference could draw a woman where violent passion couldn’t. It was a challenge and Jillian would have bet her last dollar that Jack could draw his fair share of women on that alone.

31

Lynne Connolly

And one of those men was hers, at least until he discovered what she was or when she delivered him to her handlers. A pull anchored her to him, not only because he held her hand and guided her toward where they were going. Leaving him would be a wrench. Betraying him would be far worse but she couldn’t give up now. It was unthinkable. So why was she thinking about it now? Chase took her to a featureless room painted in a sickly cream. Usually Jillian liked cream as décor but this managed to look like nothing as much as dingy white or the color milk goes when it turns bad. Or maybe it was her mood but the room felt wrong. It felt ghastly. Chase must have sensed her tension because, regardless of the others who accompanied them, he turned and took her in his arms. “I’ll do my best not to hurt you,” he said. “It would be like hurting myself.” She shook him off. “I’m okay.” She didn’t want his sympathy. It would disarm her as nothing else could, so she sat at the table and watched him take his seat on the other side. They were alone but the table was alongside a large mirror, incongruous in this space, so she knew they’d be watching her from the other side of it. On display. Strangely, that made her feel comfortable. She’d been through this scenario so many times she could do it in her sleep. This was the crux, the most vital part of her training. Pass this and she was in. “Relax as much as you can, Jillian. Let me in. I’m going to explore your mind, every part of it. Consider me your doctor and understand we’re under the same rules here. If it doesn’t concern the security of Talents, I won’t say a thing and I’ll forget anything you want me to.” “Can you do that?” “Selective blanking.” He smiled. “Yes I can.” “Wow.” Just like that, he was in. His sense insinuated itself into her mind. That didn’t hurt at all. It was easy. Jillian concentrated on relaxing the blocks she’d built where she wanted him to go. He took the easy way and slid through her mind, reading all the memories she had of the last three years. She let him see the pain of the operations, her despair when they told her she’d need another procedure and the struggle to keep her life as normal as possible, working whenever she could. The operations were necessary if she planned to live an ordinary life. If she hadn’t, she’d bear the scars and by now they’d be almost impossible to deal with. Flying glass had cut her face, superficial injuries that they’d dealt with when they were removing scar tissue from more critical areas, mostly on her legs where they’d burned before she’d been dragged clear from the car. She let him see the memories and felt his pain when he submerged himself in them. It was almost like going through the experience all over again. 32

Red Heat

Chase murmured quietly and Jillian realized it must be into a recording device. He moaned. “The pain was so bad but she wouldn’t take more pain killers than she absolutely had to. She didn’t want to get addicted to them. So she put up with the agony and only complained when she couldn’t bear it anymore. The fatigue was the worst and the depression that went with it. At first the pain wouldn’t let her sleep and then she’d virtually pass out and sleep for a day.” He paused and because their minds were linked, she felt his agony. He hadn’t had time to get used to the pain that deepseated burns caused and the consequent operations to remove the scar tissue, so she would be able to walk properly and be relatively unmarked. He took a sharp breath, as if he were experiencing her pain, which would be difficult because she only had the occasional twinge these days. But he could detect memories in her. Already he was so deep, deeper than her people who had helped her plant those memories had reached in six months. She quelled her fear. Chase was powerful and now that she felt it for herself she was beginning to realize just how powerful. But he couldn’t unlock the memories buried deep inside her. As she thought that a sting like the finest needle inserted into her tenderest parts made her cry out. Chase sucked in a deep breath and the sting went away but it was followed by warmth seeping into her. Spreading through her. “More pain. Not from the accident this time. From something else. Pain trying to remember. Who you are, what you are, what your place in the world should be.” He took another breath. “Your life in the last couple of years. Trying to get back to normal—but you don’t know what normal is.” He spoke to her telepathically then, as if the words were torn out of him. I’ll show you what normal is, sweetheart. A wry smile quirked the corners of his lips but he continued to speak before she could say anything. “You tried so hard to restore your life to what it was but it never felt right. Then a memory broke through.” The warmth went further, spread like blue ink through water, feathering through her mind. “You remembered me. You saw me on the TV and you recognized me. You remembered a name too. Jillian Miller. And the room number. So you came to see me. You thought I had answers.” He smiled. “And I did, didn’t I?” Even in this neutral, slightly chilly room, she felt the warmth of his body against hers, the heat of his arousal against her thigh, as if he was there. Was he doing this with his mind? Wishful thinking, he said ruefully. His presence spread and flooded her. “Someone has been at your mind, Jillian. There are barriers here that I can’t break. I think more memories lie behind those.” A disembodied voice broke in. Not psychic, rather a hidden speaker. Ann Reynolds. “Why can’t you break through? If you can’t, I’ll send someone else in.” “Nobody can. Because they’ve been sealed from the inside. She has to break through them on her own.” He sounded dispassionate but their minds were linked so

33

Lynne Connolly

deeply that she felt his pain. How did he keep such strong emotions within himself, so people thought of him as cold and clinical? Practice, sweetheart. Nobody knows but you. That meant so much to her. More than it should but this man had gotten in so deep she doubted she’d ever get him out. Another pain and this time she cried out with the intensity of it. Abruptly, Chase pulled out of her mind and got to his feet to stride around the table and take her in his arms. “Enough!” he called. “I learned all we had to know. She’s Jillian Miller and she has clearance.” “That’s for me to say,” said the disembodied voice as Jillian shook in Chase’s arms from the violence of the pain. “But you may bring her out of there. I’m satisfied.” Just before they left the room, she added, “For now.” Chase slid his arm around her waist and led her out of the room. Jillian couldn’t do much more than rest her pounding head against him. “I never want to see that room again.” “You won’t have to. Let me handle this now, sweetheart. Just rest and let me take care of you.” Guilt racked her. She told herself that she never expected this level of care and concern, didn’t ask for it and didn’t want it. Except that she did. Now she’d had a taste, she didn’t know how she’d do without it. She’d have to. Once this mission was done and Chase brought into the IRDC fold she’d have to go on alone. Try to bring her life back to normal, whatever that was. Ann took one look and her face creased with concern. That was even more disturbing. Jillian had felt sure Ann Reynolds was as soulless and uncaring as she’d been told, as she seemed to be when she appeared on TV. But now even she was showing an uncomfortable tendency to care. Jillian turned into Chase’s body, an instinctive gesture that she hadn’t realized she was doing until it was too late. Chase curved a protective arm around her. “I’m taking her home.” “And where’s that?” “With me.” He led her toward the exit, which fortunately didn’t mean passing through the large office again. Jillian felt vulnerable and her head throbbed as if she was starting a migraine. He helped her into the car and walked around to the driver’s side. When he got in the car, he closed the door gently. “I’m sorry.” The soft leather upholstery muffled the sound, making his words bearable. “If you let me in again, I can get rid of most of the pain for you. When we get home, you can take a pill and go to bed.” “It’s not my home.” Tired of fighting, Jillian told the truth for once. “Yes it is, sweetheart. It is. I know what you believe but it’s wrong.” His voice grew harder. “Enough. Let me in.”

34

Red Heat

She couldn’t fight him and when she felt the warmth enter her mind, she welcomed it. He slipped into her mind, deeper, through the openings he’d made when he examined her and she felt him spread a blanket of soothing heat over her. Miraculously she felt the headache ease. “Poor sweetheart. I should have known that kind of examination would start one of your migraines. I’ll do what I can and it’ll all be over soon, I promise.” “I don’t get migraines.” “You’ve always had them.” He started the car and backed it out of the parking space. If she closed her eyes, she felt nauseous, so Jillian stared out the window all the way back to the hotel. Once there, he got around the car and helped her out before tossing the keys to someone to park it for him. She leaned against him while he crossed the lobby and took her up in the elevator to the private floor. When she tried to turn right for her room, he guided her the other way. “I’ve had your things moved, what there was of them.” He used a keycard and fingerprint pad to gain access to another room. Jillian let him guide her through a large space to another bedroom. The heat was low here and she gulped in the welcome coolness. When his hands went to her clothes, she let him strip her. The only things she had to hide from him were in her mind and she’d kept them. At great cost but she’d done it. At least she thought so until he slid her between the sheets and covered her. He sat next to her and she heard liquid pouring into a glass. When he slid an arm behind her and lifted her, she barely opened her eyes. “Take this.” She stared suspiciously at the two white pills in the palm of his hand. He huffed a laugh. “Aspirin. Nothing more.” She had little choice. She took the pills with the water he’d poured for her. He laid her tenderly against the pillows. “Sleep now.” She slept until the next morning.

35

Lynne Connolly

Chapter Five The next day Jillian found her energy so depleted Chase insisted she stay inside the apartment and relax. She had no choice but to do so and she dozed the day away, watching the TV after she’d taken a long bath. If he’d been really ruthless he’d have attacked her now, while her defenses were down but instead he went to work in the hotel. He returned in mid-afternoon and smiled when he saw she’d eaten most of the lunch he’d had sent up. “I’ll change into something more comfortable and join you.” At her look of alarm, he laughed. “Vegging out on the sofa. Find a mystery movie or something. Let’s take it easy.” It sounded good to her. He was crossing the room when the phone rang. Chase picked up the phone, listened and said, “Yes, I see,” tonelessly before he replaced the receiver gently in its cradle. Then he cursed, long and low with a fluency that had Jillian wide-eyed with admiration. He shoved his fingers through his hair and glanced at her with a rueful smile. “Sorry. I forgot the day. My mother comes for high tea on the second Tuesday of every month.” Jillian smiled back and something inside her jolted. “No, that’s okay. You must look after your mom.” He slanted her a puzzled frown. “I keep forgetting your memory’s not back yet. I’ve never called her Mom. She doesn’t like it. I’d like you to come with me, so she knows you’re back, if you feel up to it. She’s bound to have heard. I swear, the East Side information network finds out everything long before either the FBI or the CIA do.” “So if she does know and I don’t go with you, she’ll think you’re hiding me away. And if she doesn’t know about me, you want her to.” “That’s about it. I’ll tell her you’re tired this afternoon, if you want.” “No, that’s okay. Give me fifteen minutes.” At least she was clean. Jillian studied Chase. He didn’t want this. She knew from her research that Bunny Maynord was one of the stalwarts of the old money society of New York. The photos of Bunny never showed her less than perfectly groomed and slim to the point of emaciation. Doubtless to get into the array of designer suits and dresses she habitually wore. She shouldn’t be catty about Bunny, she really shouldn’t. After all, she’d produced a vibrant person like Chase, so she couldn’t be all bad. Jillian caught herself. The man fucked like a sex god but that didn’t make him perfect. Even if he’d understood her fears, spent far more time with her than he should have done and—shit.

36

Red Heat

By the time fifteen minutes were up, Jillian had brushed her hair and put it into a wide clip at her nape and applied some basic makeup. In the closet she found a neat blouse and skirt in understated colors, pale blue and chocolate brown, with a jacket to match the skirt. Not clothes she’d brought with her but she guessed clothes that had belonged to Jillian in the past. Too structured for her present taste but smart and she guessed Bunny would approve. Chase smiled at her when she re-entered the lounge. “Are you sure you want to come?” She smiled back. “I need to face her sooner or later, don’t I?” She glanced into the large gilt-framed mirror. She wore no jewelry except a pair of gold studs in her ears and she wore a pair of neat, low-heeled brown slides on her feet. The perfect outfit. At least she thought so until she saw Bunny. Not a hair out of place on her carefully coiffed ash-blonde bob and her lavender Chanel suit fit like a dream, no doubt custommade. Underneath, the blouse was a perfect ivory shell, the folds slipping silkily over her beautifully toned form. But the face gave her away. Bunny’s age showed—more than that, she wore it with pride. Lines at the corners of her eyes and between her nose and mouth showed what a West Coast matron would have taken care of chemically but it wasn’t the East Coast way, obviously. Chase leaned forward and kissed his mother on one softly powdered cheek before he stepped back and murmured, “No doubt you remember Jillian.” Bunny gave her an ice-blue stare, sweeping over her with the kind of allencompassing regard that made her feel deeply uncomfortable. “I do. I thought you were dead.” It sounded like an accusation. “I was badly injured and I lost my memory.” “How singularly inconvenient.” Jillian couldn’t tell from Bunny’s guarded expression if she believed her or not. Chase offered his mother his arm to rest her hand on. Bunny set her white-gloved hand on his arm at a perfect angle and turned away, leaving Jillian to follow behind. She guessed that was no accident and her jaw firmed. Nobody would make her feel inadequate, not anymore. Never again. All through her training they’d felt sorry for her, helped her until she wanted to smack the understanding smiles off their faces. She’d been poor babied to death and she’d had enough. Chase hadn’t done that, she realized with a shock. He wanted to look after her, sure, protect her but he took her seriously and listened to her. It was obvious his psi abilities were awesome but he never took that as an excuse to act superior. Now she knew why not or one of the reasons. The trim figure in front of her must have had a lot to do with it. The tables in the Grill Room were set for tea. It stood by the window, in full view of the whole room, and although the place wasn’t full, it held a fair amount of guests who watched curiously as they progressed across to the table. Chase held a chair for his 37

Lynne Connolly

mother but Jillian took her own seat, to one side of the lady, facing the window. Chase had chosen the seat that gave him the best view of the room and the scene outside. Jillian guessed why. His protective instincts rarely slept. She eyed the china cake-stand in the center of the table, laden with cream-filled cakes and French tarts. Ranging it on it were plates of crustless sandwiches. No doubt cucumber, if the full English tea advertised was on show. And a plate of scones. Biscuits by any other name. Waiters with impassive faces arrived to place two china pots of tea on the table, on the matching stands laid out ready. Bunny gave Jillian an icy stare. “Would you like to be mother?” Startled, Jillian blinked and then glanced at Chase who smiled and covered her hand with his briefly. His warmth comforted her. “She means will you pour. It’s an English expression.” “Oh.” Her first test of social suitability. Or at least, the first test that she could remember. She felt some satisfaction at having failed it. Bunny frowned but immediately raised her brows, probably to discourage wrinkles forming. Too late but it might ameliorate them. Her makeup was too good to allow powder to settle in the fine lines scoring her forehead and Jillian suspected she didn’t intend to hide them anyway. “Haven’t we had this conversation before?” “Her accident gave Jillian amnesia. She remembers nothing of the crash and little from before it.” Jillian checked the cups were correctly ranked in front of her and lifted the pot, careful to put one finger on the lid. If it fell off while she poured, that would be an epic failure. The brown liquid sparkled as the light from outside hit it. At least it meant she didn’t have to look at Bunny and suffer that icy stare. But the lady’s carefully modulated voice pierced the atmosphere. Bunny would never shout. She wouldn’t need to. “How very inconvenient.” Not to mention déclassé but Bunny didn’t mention that. She didn’t need to. Jillian put the pot carefully on its stand before looking up and meeting Bunny’s gaze with a guileless one of her own. “Indeed it was. I was living as someone else for a while, wondering why I had no memories of Caroline Cross at all.” Bunny wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I know anyone called Cross.” “Neither do I.” With a shock she realized it was true. Everything about Caroline Cross had been told to her, she’d learned it. She put the idea aside to think about later. Now she lifted the small jug. “Cream?” “Oh I do hope not. You should never put cream into tea.” The nose-wrinkle became more decided before disappearing. “If it’s cream, no thank you, I’ll take lemon. If it’s milk, I’ll take a smidgeon.”

38

Red Heat

It was milk. Jillian delivered the smidgeon and handed the cup across the table, wondering if she was performing some kind of social solecism by doing so but not caring too much. Bunny took the cup and put it by her plate. She chose a sandwich and placed by it a sprig of watercress. “Thank you.” Jillian chose a sandwich too and after they had made their selection, Chase took one from the other plate. “Cheese,” he said. “The waiters here know I can’t stand cucumber.” Perhaps because he’d been force-fed it in his youth. I heard that and no. He gave her a secret smile, intimately warming. It makes me fart. Jillian had to fight to suppress her spurt of laughter. As it was, she shared a glance with him and her lip twitched before she could stop it. What would Bunny think? Why should she care? Exactly. Bunny shifted in her chair and reached for her bag. “I thought you might like to see the pictures of Amelia McFarlaine’s wedding.” She drew out a packet. “You didn’t attend.” Chase shrugged. “Since you tried to match us up a year ago, perhaps it was better I didn’t. You embarrassed her horribly, Mother. She already had a fiancé.” “An unsuitable one. The man’s in construction. And I don’t know any of his family.” Bunny glanced at Jillian and handed the photos to Chase. “She made a beautiful bride but her husband was too obviously dressed in something expensive and Italian. And brand new.” Chase shuffled through the photos. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to wear for your wedding? Something smart and new?” “Morning suits are far more suitable. Or since Amelia is Scottish, kilts would have worked just as well. I like a man in a kilt. Very masculine.” Somehow Jillian knew Bunny didn’t mean sexy, like the men posing for romance novels. She meant flaunting their ancestry, although the ancestor was probably some dispossessed peasant who happened to have a name starting with Mac. Sacrilege, probably, in Bunny’s social circles where ancestry meant everything. A shame she didn’t have any. Or any worth discussing. She flirted with the idea of inventing an English duke for a forefather but that probably wouldn’t impress Bunny. Not if he hadn’t come over on the Mayflower. Jillian gritted her teeth before she picked up her cup. She wasn’t especially fond of tea but she needed something to take her mind off her dilemma. How come she knew all this stuff but nothing about herself? Nothing that resonated or felt true? Oh she knew the scientific explanation but it wasn’t fair, wasn’t right. Maybe she did come from Chase’s social circle after all, although she doubted it. She would have known these things if she knew Chase or watched TV or read magazines and newspapers. Or just by living here and watching. But she couldn’t remember, dammit. What she knew, she knew. That was all.

39

Lynne Connolly

Chase gave his mother the photos after raising a brow at Jillian. She shook her head. “I didn’t know Amelia—did I?” Ignoring Bunny’s weary sigh, he leaned forward to take her hand in his. “Sweetheart, it will come. Don’t force it.” She loved that he understood without her telling him and hated that she loved it. Already her uncertainty affected everything she’d learned, the whole point of her mission. Chase had shown her nothing but understanding and tenderness. How could a man like that hard-heartedly refuse to share his gifts with the world? What didn’t she know? Everything. She bit her lip. Bunny blithely ignored the exchange. When Jillian looked up, she saw the older woman making a fuss of putting away the photos. “I can’t understand why you won’t live at home, Chase, or at least buy somewhere more suitable. I’ve never approved of you living over the shop.” “Even if the shop is one of the exclusive penthouses in one of New York’s best hotels?” He quirked a smile at Jillian, taking his time releasing her hand and leaning back in his seat. He made his message clear, for Bunny and for the other guests in the room. She meant something to him, important enough to speak to her in a caressingly intimate way and to take her to meet with his mother. Jillian couldn’t remember anyone treating her in that way. In all her training and all their care with her, they hadn’t made her feel so special, so wanted. And she’d always known that they could have taken another woman, given her the same surgery and training. She was expendable. But not to Chase. “I’m surprised you even have to ask, Chase.” Bunny took another sandwich and although her gaze passed over the tiered cakes, Jillian knew she wouldn’t eat one. It might make that stick-thin figure swell out of control. So Jillian took the tongs lying by the stand and helped herself to a cake. Much more fun than cucumber sandwiches. A waiter crossed the floor and bent to murmur to Chase. He frowned. “I’m sorry, ladies, I have to attend to this myself.” “Sometimes the hired help just won’t do,” Bunny said and gave her son a tight smile. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can manage without you for ten minutes.” “I’ll be as quick as I can. I employed a new consultant agency to look at the conference procedures. Now they’re asking for access to my private apartment.” His lip curled as he got to his feet. “It seems some bright spark has identified it as the perfect conference center. I want to know how he got to see it, then he’s out of here.” He glanced at Jillian and his expression softened a tiny bit but when his gaze returned to his mother, it had sharpened to diamond-hard again. “I don’t think I’ll need ten minutes. Those incompetents are only coming back into this hotel if they pay for the privilege. And the way they’re going, that won’t be for a long, long time.”

40

Red Heat

He strode away, his progress followed by several admiring gazes of the female variety. Jillian wasn’t ashamed to admit hers was one of them. A slight shift in Bunny’s position, a rustle of fabric reminded her she wasn’t alone. As if she could forget. “Now,” said Bunny, her expression all business, “you can tell me what you’re doing here and how you intend to ruin my son’s life this time.” Several smart answers circulated in her head. “I’ve come to steal all his money” vied with “I thought I’d strangle him in his sleep” but eventually she settled on, “What we told you is true. I was in a car accident, I lost my memory.” “For three years and then you suddenly get it back? Please don’t insult me.” Jillian lost any desire for the cream-laden pastry on her plate but held on to her fork. She needed something to grip. Hard. “Believe what you like. And I didn’t get all of it back. I remembered Chase and I came to see if he knew any more about it. I wasn’t sure of anything. It’s only coming back gradually and what I know is what Chase told me. Do you have anything else to tell me?” She might as well let Bunny have her head and get it over with. Otherwise, the lady sitting opposite her might give Torquemada a run for his money. Bunny stared at her, the ice-blue eyes so like her son’s but without the humanity. Jillian suffered the stare, even gave a slight smile before she attended to her plate and cut a small piece of the pastry to eat. It turned to cardboard in her mouth, although she would bet that it wasn’t. Otherwise Chase wouldn’t have it served. “You should leave.” Bunny’s voice was as cool and unemotional as the rest of her conversation that afternoon but Jillian looked up to see a spark in the eyes, gone as soon as she noted it. “Why should I leave?” She would leave but not because of anything this woman said. “Because you ruined my son’s life once and I won’t have you doing it again. You arrived in his life, made him promises and disappeared.” She held up a hand marked by liver spots but still elegant after a lifetime’s use. “I know you can say you lost your memory this time but really, dear, couldn’t you think of something better? Jillian shrugged. “It’s true. And it’s not like the books. I remember some, now. I hope to remember more soon. But the people who dragged me from the wreckage confused me with the woman I was with. They told me I was her and they sent me back to her life. I thought my lack of memory of her was part of the accident and the rogue memories I had were just weird side-effects.” Bunny raised a brow. “Strangely, I find myself believing you. But still, you’re not hopeless. And since you don’t remember, I’ll help you along a little. My son was mad for you. Almost literally. It’s bad enough, him being what he is and falling in with those people without acquiring extra baggage.” Her lip held the hint of a curl Jillian opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again. Because that was exactly what she was. She had no means of support, nothing to fall back on. If she had a degree, all she could use it for was to get a job because she couldn’t remember the course. 41

Lynne Connolly

It made her wonder what the IRDC planned to do with her when she completed her mission. Send her somewhere else perhaps? But she was tailored for this job; she would never be so useful to them again. It could be a hara-kiri job but they’d gone to a lot of expense, making her, paying her healthcare fees and then training her. Despite what she’d told people, she knew the story about Caroline Cross’s health insurance was false. The IRDC had paid for it all. Bunny ate the corner of a cucumber sandwich and Jillian ate her cake, more for something to do than for any desire for sweet food. She remained aware that they had snagged the attention of everyone in the room, just because Chase had brought them. And they were sitting in silence, something Bunny seemed quite happy to do, an insult in itself because Jillian felt sure she was perfectly capable of making small talk with someone she considered worthy of the honor. So she said something. “Was Chase a good child?” Bunny’s eyes opened wide as if she had forgotten she wasn’t alone. “Of course,” she said. “The trouble didn’t begin until he was five years old.” “I thought Talents’ abilities didn’t emerge until puberty?” “I prefer not to think of Chase in those terms. However, sometimes his kind can develop earlier. Most of them have some kind of telepathy.” She stared at the teapot until Jillian got the message and lifted it to refill the cups. Those cups were almost useless, holding a couple of swallows of tea, if that. Pretty but useless. Like Bunny. The thought came unbidden. She hoped Bunny wasn’t psychic. But if she were, that would explain how Chase became a Sorcerer. His kind were born, not made, and if left unchecked would find their gifts more of a burden than a blessing. Bunny stared at Jillian, unabashedly studying her. “If you need any help restarting your life, I’ll help you.” Jillian blinked, surprised at Bunny’s seeming generosity. But her next words explained her sudden change of heart. “You did me a favor, the kind only you and I know about, so I owe you for that, at least.” What on earth did that mean? Jillian had no idea. But Bunny hadn’t finished. “How much do you think you’ll need?” It took a couple of seconds for the meaning to sink into Jillian’s stupefied mind, which gave the older woman a chance to pursue her course. “I know quite a few suitable women who will make my son an excellent partner. When you disappeared like that, he went into deep freeze, wouldn’t look at anyone else. But now he can finally get you out of his system. Chase has never stayed with anyone for very long. You were the only exception. I believe it’s because he never finished his obsession with you. But it’s clear from what you say that you’re on your own, so I don’t object to hastening matters a little and helping you in your new life, whatever that is to be.” Before Jillian could push her chair back to leave, she felt hard hands on her shoulders, pressing her down. “You won’t be the one leaving, Jillian.” She heard fury in Chase’s hard, curt tones. To someone who didn’t know him, he’d sound cold but she knew about the fires he habitually banked down. “This is not the place for a discussion

42

Red Heat

of this nature, but you always insist on having your tea in public, Mother, so you must reap what you sow.” His low tones might be audible and certainly people around them were trying to listen in. Conversation had almost stilled. “I was never good enough for you, Mother dearest, but it was all your fault. I discovered years ago who my real father was.” Because she was watching so closely, Jillian saw Bunny’s flinch. A small nerve to one side of her mouth twitched. Chase didn’t relent and he kept his voice at a normal conversational level. If any journalists were present, they’d have a field day. “Because all those rumors you paid so much to have suppressed are true, aren’t they? Father had a defect, he couldn’t have a child. So you had an affair. With someone dynamic and sexy. That was a problem for you, I’m guessing, because you began to feel something for your lover. What was wrong? Was he totally ineligible?” He snorted, most inelegantly. “Don’t tell me, because I know. When you desperately tried to find someone to teach me my gift, to make me control it, suppress it if possible, you found someone who knew my real father. It’s a small world, the world of Talents. And the Hungarian laborer who fathered me was part of it. Did you know he was related to the Hungarian royal family?” He strolled around Jillian to retake his place at the table. He reached out for her hand and although his words were hard, his touch was gentle. “He didn’t care. It’s what you are now, he said, not who you’re related to. Did you love him, Mother?” He used “Mother” like a weapon, rather than the endearment it should have been. Every time he used it, he made the word colder, more sneering in tone. Bunny sat poker-straight in her chair, her face reflecting no emotion now, although that tiny twitch had betrayed her more than another person getting up and yelling would have done. “Love doesn’t last long. You have to know that, Chase. In fact, with your history, I’m sure you do. You enjoy a fleeting emotion while it’s there but it’s gone in weeks. The only times I’ve been in love, it lasted precisely three weeks. What I had with your—with my husband lasted longer and was far more valuable. It ended eventually but it had been good for us both.” “But one of my parents can’t claim to belong to the society you hold in such high regard. And that half of me has regrettably emerged over the years, hasn’t it, Mother? Did you long to remind me of that? If only I’d known. But I did know, didn’t I?” Chase leaned forward and selected a sandwich. As he spoke, he tore little pieces off it, dropping them on the pristine tablecloth. Grease stains from the butter and liquid from the torn pieces of cucumber stained its perfect surface, turning the tablecloth transparent in places, smears of yellow butter and crumbs littering the perfection. “Mother, I worked hard, went to the right schools, gained the gloss you wanted for me, studied to be the perfect son. But I also went to a tutor, who taught me to use my abilities and control them. I’m now an irrevocable part of Talented society. I belong there as much as I do here. And make no mistake, I belong. I will continue to pay your allowance, of course, but I have a feeling that I won’t be available to join you at tea from now on. Bring a friend, if you have one.”

43

Lynne Connolly

He met his mother’s gaze and when she rose, he got to his feet too, the perfect son, his impeccable manners never out of place. But he didn’t accompany her to the door and he didn’t watch her leave. Jillian did. Bunny’s erect posture and her impeccable deportment didn’t falter but she’d just seen a woman challenged and pulled apart by her son. For her. Chase smiled at her. “Have you had enough to eat?” “More than enough.” She would never have high tea again, if she could help it.

***** Back in Chase’s apartment, she watched him loosen his tie and throw his jacket over a nearby chair. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m so sorry, Jillian. I had no idea she’d talk to you like that.” “How long were you there, standing behind me?” “From when she asked you how much you wanted. She knew I was there, of course, but she wanted you to name your price so she could prove to me that you only want my money. For the record, if you had, I would still have done what I did.” “I thought about it. Taking the money and running but I don’t need a new life. I want my old one back. And I couldn’t leave you.” She’d meant the last statement as one she was supposed to say but it sank into her with a veracity she hadn’t been consciously aware of before. And it didn’t have anything to do with her mission. “You meant that story, it’s true? About your father?” Chase nodded. “All of it. Chase Maynord the third, my nominal father, couldn’t have children. When they discovered that his little swimmers wouldn’t swim, they decided to do their own version of fertilization treatment. When my father had some alterations done to the hotel, my mother came on to one of the workers. With Father’s permission.” His lip curled. “They had that kind of marriage. All business. I’m glad I knew my real father before he died. He had a heart attack ten years ago. I mourned for him and paid for his funeral but I never told my mother I knew what she’d done. My biological father asked me not to, to try to make the best of what I had. So I did.” That hurt. That someone could do that to him and hide it from him for so long. “Do you look like him? Your biological father?” He frowned. “No. I look more like my mother and her relations. Otherwise I might have guessed earlier, because my father was dark. A big, dark man. The only thing I inherited was his eyes. The man I called Father was medium height, lightly built with sandy hair.” “And I’m guessing he didn’t know he fathered a child.” “Not until much later. As far as he was concerned he had a fling with my mother and she told him to get lost a couple of months later. Nothing much he could do, because he wasn’t into using his Sorcerer powers in that way.” He grinned and his eyes gained a distant look. “Being taught by other Sorcerers isn’t much fun. You have to

44

Red Heat

learn how to distance yourself and cut yourself off, so lessons are hard and cold. I did it well enough but my father taught me how to live with my Talent and accept it.” Jillian needed to think about this and why her heart broke when she heard his story. Especially when he related it in such a matter-of-fact way. She walked over to the kitchen area and took the jug from the coffee maker over to the sink. Coffee might take the taste of tea away. “I don’t have anything, Chase.” She watched the cool, clear water fill the glass receptacle, swirling around until it found its level. She went through the actions of making coffee. “How many times have I made coffee like this, I wonder? How can I do this but not remember who I am, what I can do?” “Don’t worry about it. It will come.” He sat on the other side of the long bar area dividing the kitchen from the eating area. A laptop sat to one side, closed, and a TV hung from a bracket a little higher up. All so normal. “And you do have a life. You still have a small jeweler’s workshop in midtown.” “Do I? How come?” “A long lease on the place. I kinda held on to it for you. It seemed like my last link. Anyway, when you’re feeling better and out of danger, you could go there, see if you can remember that.” Caught in the process of measuring coffee, Jillian stared at her hands. If she could make coffee, would her skill making jewelry be the same thing? More complex procedures to be sure but it might work. Hope crept into her mind, weaving insidious tendrils around the unknown parts of her. She still didn’t know who she was, what had been done to her, but perhaps she could become an amalgam of Caroline and Jillian and so find her own self. Would it be possible? But she wouldn’t let him distract her from this. Chase was letting her in. That was what her controllers wanted but she was no longer sure she’d take anything to them. Least of all Chase, least of all personal information about him. “You shouldn’t have spoken that way to your mother.” “Yes I should. I suspect you’re not the only woman she’s done that to. When I was at college, a woman I took an interest in suddenly found the money to go to her dream university, the Sorbonne. Her parents couldn’t have afforded it on their own. That kind of thing. My mother has tried to control my life for years and every time she fails, she just tries harder. No more. Just—no more.” “So it wasn’t really about me?” Half of her wanted him to say no, it wasn’t about her and the other half screamed at him to want her enough to do that for her. She turned around and faced him. She’d bet her last dollar that Chase’s mother had never seen that particular expression on his face, a mixture of tenderness and raw need. He let her see everything he was and his honesty touched her deeply.

45

Lynne Connolly

“Of course it was about you. But she won’t drive you away, because I don’t want her to. With the others I didn’t care as much, I didn’t want them as I want you. She has to learn that.” “Will you see her again?” “Oh yes, I don’t doubt it. But that little ritual will stop. She knows I mean it now and she won’t insult you anywhere. Ever. Because she knows I’ll cut her completely if she does that. She never realized it before, because I let her have her way but she sure as hell knows now.” He smiled. “Come here. Please.” She couldn’t have denied him if his clothes were on fire and he’d invited her to share the conflagration. She walked around the island unit straight into his arms. He held her close and she held him back, neither of them saying anything for a full five minutes. Chase felt good, right, his warm body healing her pain just by being there, by holding her tight. She didn’t know if he was hurting but she guessed he must be because of the scene with his mother. “You didn’t have to do that for me.” “Yes I did. Because if I hadn’t made it clear, she would have continued. Taken you shopping, given you expensive gifts and made you beholden to her so you’d do as she said. That’s her way. So it stops now, before she can begin her campaign. And anything less wouldn’t have gotten the message across.” The other side of the unit, the coffee bubbled and gurgled its way to completion. Neither of them took any notice of it. He looked up with a smile. “And I fired the consultants. They wanted to use this apartment.” His eyes fixed on hers, so warm where before they’d only been icy. “This is ours. Nobody else’s. And it will stay that way until we decide otherwise. You hear me?” Just before her lips touched his she smiled. “I hear you.”

46

Red Heat

Chapter Six Another headache had assaulted Jillian. They’d become common since the accident but what wasn’t common was the way Chase cared for her, undressed her and put her to bed to sleep it off, telling her to rest. When she awoke, the drapes were drawn over the windows and Chase sat in one of the chairs facing the bed, reading a book. He looked up the minute she opened her eyes. “Better?” She blinked. The only light was a small reading light on the table next to Chase but it didn’t hurt her when she stared into it to test her reaction. “I’m tired but the headache has gone.” “Good.” He put down his book and crossed the room, his footsteps muffled on the thick carpet. The bed dipped as he sat down. He reached for her hand. She had no resistance against him right now, her weariness seeped through her body, sapping her of strength. She’d need all that for the mental tussle ahead, if there was to be one. “Time to talk, sweetheart. I want to know why you think you’re not Jillian Miller.” Jillian stared at Chase. His chiseled features remained impassive but she felt the power of his mind in hers. She gathered what she had, remembering the lessons she’d learned with such difficulty. “I—what are you talking about?” “You know. You’re convinced you’re Caroline Cross. I didn’t tell Ann everything when I examined you because I want to know first. This is between us but make no mistake, if I need to, I’ll take you back to STORM. I was hoping this would be something caused by the accident but it isn’t, is it? You think you’re Caroline Cross, the woman killed in the accident.” “But—” “Let me talk now. Then it’s your turn. And I want it all. I will get it, you have to know that.” Lying down made her feel at a serious disadvantage, so she tried to sit up. He slid his arm around her and helped her, banking pillows behind her so she had something to lean on. Half of her reveled in his care. The other half hated it. He should be doing this with someone else, the woman he loved, not the woman she was. They’d fabricated her to look like Jillian, they’d trained her, they’d taught her to hide her innermost secrets, even from a Sorcerer as powerful as Chase Maynord. And still he’d found her out. The more she knew, the more she’d have to armor herself with but the more she knew of these people the less sure she became. But they’d told her that too, made her decide which side she belonged to. And there were sides, she knew that. Every day

47

Lynne Connolly

Talents made deeper inroads into society. Nobody knew about them, nobody knew what they wanted, not for sure, and they had to, before these incredibly powerful people took over. They’d targeted Chase as a Sorcerer, the nearest to human and the most vulnerable. It didn’t hurt that he was wealthy either, and could make sizable donations to the IRDC if he had a mind to. Chase leaned over a side table and switched on a bedside lamp. The gentle light cast a soft glow on his face. He stared at her in silence for a few seconds then he spoke, his voice firm but soft, dropping into the intimate space between them. “I want to know what’s going on. Ann would have asked me to read you even deeper and that would have harmed you, perhaps for good. There are locked areas in your mind, Jillian, areas I can’t access because they’re locked from the inside. If I force my way inside, I run the risk of damaging you. Perhaps damaging both of us.” “What do you mean?” He took her hand, stroking his thumb over her palm in a gesture she found immensely soothing. He smiled. “You always liked that.” “But I’m not…” She bit her lip. “That is, I don’t remember…” “That’s the thing, sweetheart. Yes you are. You don’t remember, that’s for sure.” His thumb stilled but he didn’t let go her hand. “You are Jillian Miller. Caroline Cross really died in that car crash. Her body was identified as yours by dental records but those records were planted for the authorities to find. And I can guess who planted them. Can’t I?” She wanted to deny it but the words faded in her throat. “You thought I’d be so easy to fool? Jillian, we were closer than breathing. And I’m a very observant man. I remembered what turned you on, what you liked in bed and what you didn’t like. I did them almost instinctively but when I found you loving what I did, I did it some more. Later, I tried something I knew you didn’t like. You still don’t like it. I know your mind, your body, despite their efforts to cover them all. The plastic surgery was as much to fool you as it was to put you back together. You think you’ve had a boob job, you think your face was reshaped, don’t you?” She stared at him but didn’t answer. What he said made a lot of sense but she knew to expect that. They’d trained her thoroughly. “I know you, inside and out. You loved me and I loved you and I want that back. If you’ve stopped loving me of your own accord, I can live with that but not when someone comes between us, when you were manipulated and told to believe things that aren’t true.” His grip on her hand tightened. “Nobody should do that. Talented society forbids it because it’s so dangerous but a Talent has been at work on you. Not all of us wear the white hats.” He sighed and released his hold but she let her hand remain in his. To remove it might be to clue him in and she wanted to remain passive, to let him talk.

48

Red Heat

He talked. “I know that beneath those barriers is the true Jillian. But I can’t release them without causing too much damage. You have to do that yourself and you have to do it willingly.” “How can I do that?” Hope entered his eyes, she saw it warming the blue depths, felt it in her mind. “I know a way. Do you want to? Will you trust me?” Chase saw the fear shadowing her eyes but he couldn’t help that now. She had to make this decision for herself. If she didn’t trust him and wouldn’t attempt it, he would have to work harder to gain her trust, let him guide her into the world she used to love but he knew she’d forgotten. What they’d done to her beggared belief. Someone had taken her mind and distorted it, used it, pushed true memories away and made her block them or disbelieve them. The last time he’d penetrated her mind to the depths, he felt the pain along with her and knew what they’d done. If he forced the barrier open, she would release such agony it would swamp them both and probably kill them, bursting blood vessels and maybe even paralyzing the heart and lungs. Pain could do that. He’d seen it for himself, although he tried to forget it. And that he could cause that kind of pain without harming himself. Although not a powerful virgin Sorcerer, Chase had worked hard to hone his skills, concentrating on certain areas, and telepathy was his thing. He could dissect a mind, read it as nobody outside the Talented community could but it came at a cost. He’d seen and even vicariously experienced things he wanted to forget but couldn’t. Jillian had helped him over some of the worst parts of his life and now he desperately wanted— no, needed—to help her. After he’d restored her to what she should be, he’d hunt down the people who’d done it to her and kill them. Fucking slaughter them where they stood. They wouldn’t do this to anyone else. What they’d done to her reminded him of another case he’d seen. Ricardo Gianetti, dragon shape-shifter, now part of the Team Red at STORM, spent months in captivity and they’d tried to work him over the same way. But Ricardo resisted, holding out until they managed to find him, due in no small part to Ricardo’s brother Alessandro and his woman, now his wife. When Chase had worked with Ricardo afterward, he’d seen similar patterns in his mind. Sandro wasn’t in New York anymore but Chase knew where to find him. In Washington, heading up a team backing the Talented Senators and Congressmen. But he doubted he’d have to trouble his erstwhile teammate, except perhaps to get him to confirm what he was beginning to suspect—that Bennett had reared his ugly head again. So intent on capturing the others and closing down the sleep clinic that had been a cover for the IRDC, they’d let Dr. Bennett get away. This was their punishment. Or rather, his, specifically. If he was right. So Bennett would have been working on Jillian

49

Lynne Connolly

at the same time he was working on Ricardo. Both members of STORM. Could that be a coincidence? Somehow he didn’t think so. He tried a simple question, resting in her mind so lightly she wouldn’t be aware of his presence. “Have you heard of an organization called the IRDC?” He knew she had but he wanted to make his question as unthreatening as possible. Her fingers tensed infinitesimally and he felt a similar reaction in her mind, her senses tightening, going on alert. “Yes. The International Research and Development Clinic, isn’t it? They want to persuade Talents to share their gifts with the rest of mankind.” Chase forced a smile. “And you think we can? Yes, some people do think like that, don’t they? We have our own clinics, our own research that doesn’t damage the people who volunteer to be tested. I’ve had to rack the security up at the hotels since I came out as a Talent. The IRDC send people to capture me and they seem convinced that I’m setting up strongholds in all the cities with Timothy hotels.” He watched her watery smile and hated it, knowing she was doing it for him. Knowing he was right. “I have a business to run, that’s all. And it’s no more a stronghold than it was before. This floor is all I allow in any of the hotels. Rooms for Talents who need shelter or special treatment. And holding cells.” She tensed further, as he knew she would. “For humans, for Talents, for when the community needs to restrain someone. Sometimes the IRDC will plant false memories in a Talent or a human and send them to us.” Her eyes widened and he knew she’d listen, if not believe. “Like they’ve done with you, my love.” He hated the way she pulled her hand out of his grasp and shrank back against the pillows. “No! I don’t know—” “Please, please don’t lie to me now. I can’t bear it. I truly can’t.” She closed her mouth on her protests, then opened it again. “You really think they’ve done that? You think I’m Jillian?” “I know you are.” He reached for her hand again, sighing in relief when she let him take it. “I know your mind, your heart. I know the way you make love, what you enjoy. Probably better than you do. I know it as much from your actions, the way you move, as I do from what I can read in your head. Enough to know they’ve used compulsion on you.” He took a risk. This name could destroy anything between them or open her up but he had to know who he was dealing with. “Your contact at the IRDC. Is it a man called Bennett? Or someone who looks like this?” Gently, he projected an image of the man into her head. Middle-aged, slightly thin on top, none of the evil that lurked inside reflected in his pale eyes, Bennett not as he’d last seen him, a feral creature filled with hate and fear but the Bennett he presented to the world, a kind, understanding doctor, only there to help and reassure his patients. “No!” With her free hand she made a gesture of repudiation, letting the sheet that had covered her fall to her waist. “I mean—yes—I mean—what do I mean? Tell me, Chase. Oh God, I’m confused. How can people mess with your mind like that? Is it even

50

Red Heat

possible?” Tears fell and she dashed her hand across her face to wipe them away. He wanted to kiss them away for her but he couldn’t, not yet. “Yes it is. But you won’t believe me fully until you break those final barriers. And you have to do that yourself. Bennett persuaded you to do it, probably under a cocktail of drugs that made you highly suggestible but now you have to find the key and break through.” “Chase, I…” He couldn’t stand firm anymore. Unable to resist the appeal in her eyes, the glimmer of tears, he swept her into his arms and held her close. That warmth was real, her soft skin was real. “Don’t think about it anymore. Not yet. Let’s wait until you’ve rested, gotten over the examination. I did more than I wanted to then and I pushed you too hard.” “No.” Her voice came softly, tremulously but behind it lay strength, the strength his Jillian had always possessed. “Maybe you didn’t push me hard enough.” “I cleared what I could. I swear I did nothing else. I read you, I cleared some of the barriers. That’s why you can remember more about the series of operations you had.” “And the way people used to look at me sometimes. When I went home—what I thought was home—I’d catch people looking at me as if they didn’t know me or they wondered but they never said anything, not even when I asked.” “That’s because your background as Caroline was entirely false, the people you worked with in the pay of the IRDC. Let me share something else with you.” He eased back a little so he could see her face. That hadn’t been marked in the car crash. The scars behind her ears were there as much to fool her as they were direct results of an operation. He’d bet his last hotel on that. She stared at him, suspicion in her gaze. “Do you swear not to mess with my head?” “I swear. I’ll only do it again if you ask me to.” He wouldn’t have to. Either she’d believe him or she wouldn’t. “This is just facts. You remember the file I was reading when you woke up?” She nodded. “It was yours. You can read it yourself if you want to. And it includes what we’ve managed to discover about Caroline Cross.” He felt her slight shock, shame at her instinctive recognition of the name as her own. “Caroline Cross was a member of the IRDC but you probably knew that already. They didn’t disguise that because it would help you. Caroline Cross lived in New York, not New York State. We think we know why she was in your car that day. She kidnapped you. One of the reasons for the initial confusion was that she was behind the wheel of your car. You were probably drugged. The accident was probably just that but we can’t be sure, as apart from leading to the death of Caroline Cross, it played right into their hands. They must have known I’d never stop looking for you if I thought you were still alive.” “Can you prove that?”

51

Lynne Connolly

“Every word.” Still lodged in her mind, Chase felt the world shift under Jillian’s feet. That more than anything would persuade her that what he had to say was real. They’d fabricated a life for Caroline Cross, one that would contain her and persuade her, without taking too many agents away from their jobs. Her boss, her friends and anyone who knew her in that town would be agents and with that in mind, Ann had dispatched the team to pick them up. They had all gone. The house she’d stayed at was stripped bare of any identification, all personal belongings gone and wiped clean of prints. “Chase, I don’t know what to think…” “Hold on to me, sweetheart. I swear everything I tell you is true. You can read the file for yourself and verify it as much as you want. We have public records for Caroline Cross, her social security number, where she worked and we can introduce you to people who know her. Knew her.” She trembled in his arms before taking a deep breath and steadying herself once more. Chase helped her as much as he could but her next words made him tremble. “Make love to me, Chase. It’s the only real thing that’s happened to me. I know I can trust you but with everything turning to shit, that’s all I have to hold on to. Please.” “Sweetheart!” He took her mouth in a gentle kiss, relishing the touch of her soft lips against his, but he drew back after one taste. “You should rest. We shouldn’t—” “I’m tired of doing what I should do and not what I want to do. Sick of it. I did what I thought was right for the last three years and it turns out not to be what I should have done after all. So now I want to do this because—just because I want to.” He understood and he let go. He’d been fighting his need for her since she’d woken up. Every breath, every movement reminded him of their lost years and how he’d missed her, waking every morning with a hard-on for a woman who’d never come back to him. His cock rose to the challenge, never completely at rest around her now it stood to attention. But he’d be gentle. At least he’d try. But when he wanted to take her, surround her, prove to her that nothing else mattered but this experience, now and this bed, protectiveness and care warmed his body. “You can enter my mind any time you want to. It’s all there for you, if you want to read it.” They were the last words before his lips covered hers and he gave way to the passion heating between them. He drew her close, dying to drag her to him, hold her tight and never let her go. That, he knew, had been one of the problems before and something he hadn’t told her about. Too possessive, she’d said. He prayed he’d never have to tell her. He’d do better this time. She responded to his kiss in a way that made his thoughts skitter apart, dissolve into unthinking pleasure. Jillian could always do that to him and he loved it, every time. How could he have done without this for so long?

52

Red Heat

He drew his mouth away a little, just enough to murmur to her. “I missed you so much. I don’t need to know who you are—my body tells me. The minute I saw you it screamed to let me at you. And I have no idea how you do it. You—just—do.” He paused to dot kisses on her nose, her brow and then returned to her mouth to feast. He delved inside, tasting, soothing then returning to devour. He ate at her, wanting never to stop. She was warm and welcoming and when he pulled her closer, she found the hem of his t-shirt and touched him, fingers to bare skin. He shuddered at her touch and when she flattened her palms over his back, he moaned into their kiss, firming his hold on her. When she pushed him away, concern filled him and he drew back. That and a sick fear he couldn’t quite quell, that she wanted him to leave. He would do it. His main role right now was to protect her and care for her. If she didn’t want this, he’d stop. However much it hurt him to do it. Then she pulled him back. “Not so tight. I couldn’t breathe.” His laugh had more than a little relief in it. “I’m sorry, darling. It’s a bit overpowering to have you back. In my life and in my bed. Our bed.” “No. This is yours. I can’t just move in.” “If you don’t, you’ll make me miserable. I want you here. We’ll make this apartment our own or find another. Whatever you want, Jillian.” “I want you.” He smiled against her lips. “That’s good. Because I want you. In the worst way.” With a sudden movement, he flipped back the sheet and comforter. Chase redoubled his efforts and stripped out of the few clothes he wore so fast he came close to tearing them. Not that he’d have cared. He kicked his slacks away as he joined her on the bed. “Darling, let me love you tonight. That migraine was a killing one—” “How do you know that? You helped to soothe it away but did you somehow…?” She stared at him, her eyes wide. He smiled down at her. “You’re too quick. I bore as much of it as I could. As much as you let me.” “You did? You could have borne it all if you wanted. I didn’t want any of it.” His laugh surprised him as much as her. “You’ve changed.” “You think?” He pulled her close and dissolved into laughter. It felt so good, to hear that dry sense of humor, something else he’d missed in the dreary months since he’d lost her. He wouldn’t lose her again. No way. No. That wouldn’t help, he couldn’t shelter her and it would be wrong. She’d been incredibly strong to get this far, to cope with everything she’d learned in the past few

53

Lynne Connolly

days. Chase doubted he could be as strong in the same circumstances. Not knowing who he was would kill him. Her nipples rubbed against his chest and brought fresh heat to his body, stealing through him with an insistence he couldn’t deny. “Now where were we?” he murmured, drawing her over his body. She opened her legs and his rampant cock slid between without any help from him or her. It slid along the hot wetness gathering there. It knew where it belonged. So did he. He took her in another kiss, melting into her mind to share the experience with her. Together they explored, together they touched. Her breasts became miracles to him. As he cupped and touched each tiny part of the impossibly soft skin she offered to him. She moaned softly when he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, feeling the tips peak against him, hard little nubs thrilling to his stimulation. Only his. He read it in her mind, felt her need for him and gave back his need for her. “Two ways, sweetheart,” he whispered against her. “We need this, both of us.” “Yes, we do. Oh Chase, Chase!” He kissed her and rolled her onto her back, his cock nestled between her legs. He lifted and lowered, not enough to enter her but catching her clit with every stroke, until they both moaned. Unable to resist, he lifted until the head of his cock touched her clit and let the tiny pearl of moisture at its tip enter the hole at the end of his penis, now weeping for her. “See?” he managed and gasped when his internal passage caught the hard bead of flesh. “Me in you, you in me.” “Ah, Chase!” She gasped and wriggled, dislodging him, but in doing so he slid down her slippery cleft and entered her. Only slightly. His shock reverberated through them both and he pulled out. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Wait—” He leaned over her, reaching for the nightstand where he kept a supply of condoms. “No.” She laid a hand on his chest, curving her other hand around his waist to draw him back down to her. “I’m on the Pill. They—they made sure, they said it wasn’t safe for me. They told me I’d have to sleep with you…” He drew his arm back and propped it on the other side of her head, holding himself above her. “You know what you’re saying? You’ve been sent by the IRDC to trap me?” “Yes I know. And there’s more. But not now. I’ll tell you but not now.” She had to trust somebody and all her instincts were to trust him. If she was wrong, she didn’t much care. She let him read her as a gift, opening simply and sweetly to him. He bent to touch his lips to hers. “Later, sweetheart. Much later, when you’ve remembered who you are and what we mean to each other.” A shadow crossed his heart but he dismissed it. That too would come later but he didn’t want her to be anything less than what she’d once been. “We know who sent you. I read it in your mind this afternoon. That’s all we need. The rest can wait.” He smiled and lifted up again. “Are you sure about this?”

54

Red Heat

“About the condom?” She smiled up at him, not a shadow of doubt in her face or her mind. When he caressed her, using his mind, his eyes and his cock, she shivered and lifted up to him. “Positive. I want nothing between us, Chase. And you trust me too. For all you know they’ve infected me with—well, something nasty.” “If they’ve infected you, then they’ve infected me. I don’t want protection against you.” She huffed. “Well that’s just plain silly. But they haven’t. I—I had an AIDS test. I wanted to because of all the blood transfusions I had but I’m clear.” “Sweetheart, it would take more than that to keep me away from you right now. What we are, we are together. If you never recover any more of your memory, this is enough.” But he knew he’d freed enough to give her doubts, enough to make her think and remember her feelings for him. Being told and experiencing for herself were two very different emotions and what he felt in her mind was firsthand. Vague, unspecific but he recognized some of the patterns. And welcomed them back. He slid down again, into her, wanting nothing more. “Every day you’ll remember a little more and one day you’ll wake up and realize you’re yourself again.” She closed her eyes at his entry, her mouth falling slightly open and a soft gasp eased between her lips. She opened her eyes again. “But who am I?” “It doesn’t matter what name you go by or what you think you are, your personality will always shine through. And that’s what I want. Just that.” He touched his lips to hers as he sank deep inside her. Lost himself in her. He would always trust her to take him, take care of him and if one day she regained everything she was, he’d rejoice. But he’d take her just like this. The depths of her body felt like home to Chase, more than any other home he’d ever known. He opened his mouth over hers, felt the lush recesses of her mouth and explored them with his tongue, lingering on the parts of her no one else knew as well as he did. He lifted and thrust, keeping up a steady, driving rhythm, but he longed to do more. He wanted to take her, make her his for good and recognized the feeling for what it was—possession. An obsession to care for her, keep her safe, because he knew how dangerous this world could be, especially for him and people like him. And the people associated with them. But she’d been out there on her own and she’d survived. Barely but she’d come back to him. As sensation swamped him, Chase recognized that he’d changed too and he’d come out loving her as much as ever. He rolled so they lay on their sides and lifted her leg over his. Their connection continued as strong as before but in this position they were equals. And he loved it. Before, he’d wanted to give her everything but not take, but now give and take were more important to him than ever.

55

Lynne Connolly

“You’ve changed.” She stroked him from underarm to thigh and he smiled, letting her know how much her caresses meant to him. “You remember?” He kept up the insistent rhythm, reveling in her response, the way she held her body taut for him, pushed back at the deepest point. “No. I think I read you. Something, like a twinge at the back of my mind.” He smiled. “You feel this?” One hard thrust and she threw back her head and gasped. Her hand, lax at his waist, curled into a grip, dragging him closer. “No, sweetheart, tilt back. I can go deeper that way. You want me deep, don’t you?” “Ye-es!” She released him again and leaned back, curling her leg around his to grip him closer, harder. “Fuck me, Chase. Just keep doing it.” His rhythmic movements increased in power, thrusting hard now, and Chase welcomed the sensation of losing himself in a woman’s lush, soft body. But not any woman’s. He’d know Jillian’s anywhere, the way she woke all his senses, all the time, without trying. Warmth spread from his cock through his balls to his spine and suffused his body. All her, everything she brought him. Blindly he reached out and encountered her breasts, quivering with every deep stroke he gave her. He curved his fingers over one, caressing it, the most precious sensation in the world, her soft skin under his rougher fingers. The differences in texture fascinated him. Her mind warmed, heated, as they both felt her orgasm build. He didn’t want this over too quickly, he wanted to stay here forever, building and building to a climax just beyond their grasp. Her hands gripped his arms, holding on as if for dear life, the contact between them growing with each deep, hard drive. Their bodies made music, the wet sounds of his thrusting the most beautiful he’d ever heard, the scent of their lovemaking more alluring than the most expensive perfume. She froze in that instant of connection and he connected with her, so deep he knew there would always be a part of him left in her and he took a small part of her for himself. Giving and taking. As it should be. Then he could think no more as he erupted in a paroxysm of pure lust, his body completely embedded in hers, helpless to do anything but hold on and experience. “Ah Jillian, oh God!” He might have passed out—he wasn’t sure but when he opened his eyes she was staring at him with something that could have passed for adoration. He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, surprised to find his fingers trembling. “That was us, Jillian. That’s what we do together. Whoever you are, whoever you think you are, never doubt that.” When he urged her forward, she came sweetly into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder while he tugged the bedcovers over them. “We should shower. Or something.”

56

Red Heat

“Later,” he murmured. “All I want to do now is hold you and wake up holding you.” He touched his lips to her forehead before taking her in a deep, heartfelt kiss. “Sleep for a while.” “Mmm.” She snuggled in and Chase felt himself drifting in a haze of euphoria into sleep.

57

Lynne Connolly

Chapter Seven A harsh scream awoke him. The room was still lit dimly by the bedside lamp. Above him, a woman hovered, her mouth drawn back over her teeth in a grimace of hatred. She held a knife, the blade gleaming wickedly in the light as she drove it toward his heart. Chase had a bare instant to react and thanks to his training with STORM, that was plenty. A two-pronged attack, piercing her mind with a sharp command and paralyzing pain, froze her into temporary immobility and made it possible for him to grab her wrist and bear her down onto the bed, making her drop the knife. He heard the dull thud as it fell. Jillian stared at him, eyes glimmering with tears that began to fall as he watched her. He held her under him, his legs pinning hers down, his hands on her wrists in a grim parody of their lovemaking hours before. The knife lay on the covers by his thigh. Where the fuck had that come from? A swift glance told him it was one of his kitchen knives. Two rooms away. Two large rooms. But when he read her mind, he found bewilderment and confusion there and no remembrance of getting out of bed and finding the knife. He recognized the attack for what it was—he’d triggered it somehow, some movement, even a scent. He glanced at the nightstand and saw her cell phone, the clamshell open and active. Not him, then. Someone else had triggered the attack. When he stared down at her he wanted to commit murder. To the person who’d done this to her, not to Jillian, the cloudy confusion in her eyes and her mind urging him to hunt down and kill whoever had done this to her. “It’s not you. It’s not you, sweetheart.” Releasing her wrists, he gathered her into his arms, keeping his mind firmly in hers. “Please don’t cry.” But it was too late and maybe she needed the catharsis of a good cry. God knew he did. As he held her shaking body, he felt a telltale dampness leak from the corners of his own eyes but he fought it back. No time for two of them to collapse. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Jesus, they’d slept the night through. He’d assumed it was early morning since light filtered through the window blinds but if that clock was right, they’d slept half the morning away. That meant Jillian had slept the clock around and then some—with a break to make love, of course. She must have needed the sleep; the torture he’d put her through yesterday would have exhausted her on its own but the constant worry he sensed in her would put added stress on that. “How could you hold me after—that?”

58

Red Heat

He kissed the top of her head. “Hush. It wasn’t you. Someone planted that compulsion in you. It’s a reaction. I threatened your innermost self, made you doubt what they’d told you to believe, so they planted that inside you. An implanted reaction to threat, that’s all.” He broke off abruptly, giving himself time to get over his fury. Otherwise his voice might shake and she’d suspect his anger was directed at her. It wasn’t. He wanted to tear the IRDC buildings down brick by brick and bury everyone inside in the rubble. They’d broken a fundamental law of Talents and any Talents they sheltered were subject to the law. Except they might not be in this brave new world. Compulsion and telling anyone outside the Talented community used to be punishable by death, with no appeal. Now the laws of the countries Talents lived in would want a say. But he’d fight to the death before he’d allow compulsion to be legalized. Because they could control the world by the power of their minds. Suggestions were allowed, because suggestions didn’t negate free will but compulsion was evil. He’d wipe all the fucking bastards out and not look back. That they’d hurt his woman only added to his fury. Increased it, so he had difficulty controlling his emotions. He pressed another kiss to her head. “What are you doing to me?” “T-trying to kill you, it seems.” She sniffed and he reached over to the nightstand for a tissue. It would take more than one but he’d make a start. He gave her the tissue and grabbed another handful. “It wasn’t you. It was someone else, acting through you. He would have implanted a trigger and whatever it was, it went off and you lost control. You weren’t you, Jillian.” She lifted a tear-stained face to stare at him in wonder. “How can you say these things? I tried to kill you, Chase. And you haven’t even moved the knife…” She glanced down and stared at it in horror. Chase sat up and grabbed the knife to throw it away, sending it spinning across the room. It landed with a clatter just under the window. He did it because he couldn’t bear the look on her face, not because he believed she’d try it again. Because she wouldn’t. She’d soaked his chest and shoulder and tears stained the perfection of her eyes, redrimmed now. Now that she’d finally lifted her head he could kiss her as he wanted to. He pressed soft kisses to each corner of her mouth, then to the soft, trembling lips and moved to her eyes, tasting the salt of her tears. “Hush, love. Wait here.” He deposited her gently on the pillows and swung his feet out of bed. He didn’t waste time but found two washcloths and wet them, making sure the water was warm enough to soothe with the second one. He washed her face, wiping the traces of her tears away, then folded the cool one and held it to her closed eyes. “Let’s hold this here for a few minutes.” She sighed in contentment and leaned against him. “I’m sorry, Chase. I don’t cry.” “Yes you do. I have proof.”

59

Lynne Connolly

Her shaky laugh warmed him, as did the slow acceptance growing in the forefront of her mind. “And I don’t try to kill people in my sleep either. I woke up just as you did, I think, because I don’t remember much before you grabbed my hand.” “We’re linked now, telepathically, so my alarm probably woke you. But I think you woke me. You yelled and I heard it in my mind too. That was you, Jillian, trying to wake me up. You couldn’t stop what you were doing but you knew I could, given warning.” “Something like that.” She tensed but he drew her back. “It means we can’t sleep together again, doesn’t it?” He grunted. He didn’t like the suggestion but he knew it was a possibility he’d have to face. Last night he’d decided that now she was in his bed, she’d stay there but there might be more triggers. He decided to force the issue. She was strong enough and if she could dismantle those barriers on her own, the resulting trauma would be much less and she’d be more willing to accept the truth. “It might. But I want to try something else. Tonight. I’d thought to wait until you’d settled in a little more but in the light of recent events I think we’ll bring it forward.” He was pleased when she laughed at his turn of phrase. “What?” “Do you mind if I don’t tell you? I’ll take you out. Dress as you would for dinner at a restaurant.” “Why won’t you tell me?” He touched his lips to hers in a soft kiss, softer than a whisper. “Because going in unknowing might help you to learn the key to your barriers. This is to help you open up, to unlock the impulses those bastards put in your mind. If I open them, they’ll hurt and could cause you the kind of trauma you won’t recover from, so I want you to do it for yourself. You understand?” She nodded and smiled. Sure but understanding and knowing were two completely different things and she had no idea how to do what he claimed she could do. Unlock her own mind? It sounded like science fiction but her behavior and other people’s conviction that she was Jillian helped to convince her. Ann Reynolds, Ricardo Gianetti and Jack Hargreaves had accepted her as Jillian, looked at her as if they knew her. She’d even felt their minds brushing hers in the Talented way of greeting, something she’d steeled herself to experience before she discovered it wasn’t distasteful after all but actually quite pleasant. Everything her handlers had told her turned out to be a distorted version of her experience. They’d told her that too, that Talents had the mind power to turn experiences around in her head but the more she repeated it to herself, the less convincing it sounded. And no one had threatened her or detained her since she’d entered the hotel. She couldn’t forget how the house she stayed in had locks on all the doors. The only locks in Chase’s apartment were those at the entrance.

60

Red Heat

***** After a sleepless night back in her own room, with two locked doors and a hallway between her and Chase, Jillian knew what she had to do. She sat up in bed, knowing she wouldn’t sleep now and watched the light filter through the blinds at the windows. She could believe her trainers, the people who had shown her kindness and patience during her recovery, or she could believe Chase, a man she hardly knew, someone who worked for the enemy. Easy, really. Because deep down niggles squirmed in her mind, little worms working through the heavy barriers she hadn’t known existed before Chase had broken some for her. Everything he’d promised, he’d delivered but so had the IRDC and they had a point. Talents were cagey about what they could do and what they couldn’t and many refused to reveal themselves. They should share what they had. But according to Ann Reynolds they had worked on it for years without success. The IRDC said she was lying. She had to let him take her one step further, the step he asked her to trust him over. After all, she had very little to lose at this stage. Like this, she couldn’t even trust herself. She had no memory of when she’d gotten the knife or what had triggered the attack and it had scared her like nothing else. If someone had tried to turn her into some kind of unthinking automaton, she wanted to know who and why. And she wanted to know the truth. Part of her suspected Chase was fooling himself, wanting Jillian back so much he would take her as the real thing. Part of her wondered, almost convinced he was right and they’d switched the people in the car because a live Jillian could go where Caroline couldn’t. She couldn’t recall much about the time immediately after the accident. They’d kept her drugged, sometimes with opiates to dull the pain and this had affected her recollection of events. Several operations to set her broken bones, followed by others to give her plastic surgery. Maybe she hadn’t had the procedures on her face they’d told her about or maybe they hadn’t been quite so extensive. Even if she got all her memory back—if she’d lost it in the first place—she didn’t think she’d regain that part. Too many drugs, too much confusion. Chase had a meal sent up for her at lunchtime and a note to say he was dealing with hotel business but he’d take her out that evening, as arranged. That must be the mysterious place he wanted her to visit. Where she’d regain her memory. Or not. She had to do it. Both sides, the IRDC and STORM, were fucking with her mind and she wanted to know for herself. If she thought about it anymore she’d go mad, so she switched on the TV and searched for something innocuous to while away the time. She should have known better. Talents invaded the screen, discussions about them, film of them, still rare, in their other forms, shape-shifters, vampires, scary stuff that everyone had to accept belonged in the world now. Panicked people claiming a 61

Lynne Connolly

vampire lived next to them in their trailer park, feeding off their children, even a program “I Slept With a Vampire”, which she stuck with for all of five minutes. Then she found an old movie. A vampire movie of course but far enough away from reality for her to lose herself in it. She admired the clothes, wondered how the heroine’s hair stayed so fucking perfect and laughed when the girl screamed fit to rip her tonsils out. At least it took her mind off her dilemma and she let herself drift into the next film, some nonsense about secret agents falling in love. Why did everything seem to relate to her own life? Chase was an agent, of a sort; he lent his Talents to an organization that scared her, even now. But he could probably take this wuss of an actor down without breaking a sweat. She closed her eyes, remembering what else those muscles could do. And opened them again on the dim glow of night in the city. By the time Chase arrived at her door, she was ready. She’d made a trip back to Chase’s apartment to collect some stuff and opted for simplicity, choosing a black sleeveless dress several inches above the knee, with sheer black hose and a gold-tone necklace. At least, she thought it was gold-tone but she purposely didn’t explore it to find hallmarks. She’d found it in a small box in the closet allotted to her. The shoes fit beautifully, plain black slides, but the label inside made her gasp. She’d never worn anything so expensive before. Or worn three-inch heels so comfortable either. She’d dressed her hair up in a simple twist, with a clip at the crown of her head. It was worth every minute of the preparation she’d taken. His gaze raked her up and down and up again and gave a low whistle. “Wow.” “Thanks. Wow yourself.” Relieved to see he wasn’t in dinner clothes but a pair of black Chinos, a soft sweater in azure blue and a leather jacket she’d bet cost more than a whole suit from Hugo Boss, he looked good enough to eat. Or kill. She stepped back but he followed her. “How good is that lipstick?” “I don’t know.” She had no time to say any more before he covered her lips with his in a welcoming kiss. His arms held her and she lifted hers to settle them at his waist. That sweater felt fantastic under her hands but not as good as the heated skin beneath. He drew away, laughing breathlessly. “Hey, we could stay in but I have plans for the evening.” Brought to a reminder of the present, she stepped back, on the pretext of collecting the soft velvet jacket she’d chosen and picking up her purse. “Leave that,” he said. “So this lipstick had better be good because I won’t be able to reapply it if I leave my purse here.” She tried a smile but it wouldn’t quite come. He touched her chin, turning her face to look at him. “Don’t. After tonight we’ll know, one way or the other. Give me what you need and I’ll put it in my pockets for you. Do you trust me?”

62

Red Heat

That was what this was about. “Yes, I trust you.” Only after she said it did she realize just how much she trusted him. With her life. She had no reason to think that way, the sense came from somewhere deep inside her, somewhere she wasn’t aware of before. “But do you trust me?” He nodded. “If I can’t trust you, my judgment is severely at fault and I need to go in for reassessment.” Taking her elbow, he steered her toward the door. She handed him a few items—her keycard, lipstick, powder compact and a couple of bills and he shoved them in an inside pocket. A car waited for them outside and this time Chase took the wheel. “There’s a car lot where we’re going.” He drove his Aston Martin, so the car lot must be secure. Leave that in the average New York car lot and it would either be gone or mutilated when they returned. No, she was still thinking like Caroline Cross. She had to give Jillian Miller a chance, keep her mind open to possibilities. This man had done that for her. If he hadn’t insisted on honesty she would still be trying to entrap him. She might yet but he’d forced the choice on her—to go with her instincts or to believe what she’d been told and taught. So far, instincts had it but only just. Tonight would persuade her for sure. Then she’d ask him the awkward questions, the ones she wanted answered. They drove downtown and to a street near Chinatown, to a building whose entrance was lit by a single neon light of a man and woman dancing. Discreet by New York standards. Chase got out and tossed the keys to a waiting attendant before he walked around to her side to help her out. While she knew she should object from a feminist standpoint, Jillian enjoyed the illusion of being a weak and feeble woman. Next to Chase, she felt weak and feeble. Under those tailored suits and leather jackets lurked a body far more powerful than was at first apparent. When he cupped her elbow to guide her into the club, she felt the effortless power of the man and knew he could compel her to enter just by that touch. But he didn’t, he asked her and waited for her agreement, then guided her inside. She still didn’t know what to expect, except that it included dinner. A perfectly attired waiter took them to a table once they’d signed in. It looked like an upscale restaurant with stiffly starched white linen tablecloths, a large candle on each table and atmospheric lighting. People sat at the tables, dressed in smart casual clothes, mostly in couples but with the occasional threesome. “A restaurant for intimacies,” Jillian murmured as the waiter pushed her chair in for her. Chase caught her expression and grinned. “More than you know.” He ordered and at her nod ordered for her too. A light meal, she noted, salmon on a bed of spinach, with vegetable soup to start. A freshly made, tasty soup, she discovered when it arrived. Chase poured her a glass of the crisp white wine that he’d ordered. She found it good. “I thought you were supposed to taste it,” she commented as she picked up her spoon. “I tasted it when it was purchased.” He watched her over the rim of her glass and gave her a slow smile.

63

Lynne Connolly

She didn’t take long coming to conclusions. “You own this place?” “Part own it. It’s a joint investment. I invested in it for you. For us.” She frowned at him. “I need a restaurant?” He shrugged and put his glass on the table. “What does need have to do with it? It turns a nice profit but that’s not why I invested either.” “Then why?” He gave her an evil grin. “Wait and see. I bought it for you.” The waiter returned and replaced the soup with the fish. Jillian had just taken her first bite when she noticed the group to her left, about three feet away, a stunning African-American woman and two men, one African-American, one Caucasian. The woman leaned over to plant a kiss on the African-American’s lips and he lifted one hand to slip the strap of her dress off one shoulder. He eased it down to expose her further. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Hastily, Jillian looked away, the heat rising to her face— and between her legs. The flirting had aroused her. Well, she reasoned, the men were hot. Chase reached across the table and touched her hand, making her look at him. “No. Eat, sweetheart and watch. They want people to watch them.” “What?” She stared back at him, startled. Chase gave her his easy, relaxed smile. “That’s why this place turns such a good profit. It’s for people who watch—and like being watched. But there are so many dangers in that if you do it on the street or an unregulated place, especially for public figures, that places like this have quietly grown. This one is discreet and you can go as extreme as you want.” He gave her a smile, heat warming his eyes and she felt her pussy dampen. She squirmed a little, rubbing the sensitive skin of her labia over her clit, easing her moisture over her folds, almost an automatic gesture, and she felt her clit come to life and tingle with awareness. “There are rooms where you can record yourself, give a performance on a stage, go on the Internet even—we help you to do it safely—but the big point is the discretion. Everyone here is vetted as deeply as possible and we don’t advertise—we don’t need to.” She licked lips suddenly gone dry. “Are the people here all—Talents?” He shook his head. “No. A few maybe. That’s not the focus for this place.” “What?” “Just watch for now. Be honest with yourself. I’ll be in your mind all the time. Eat your meal and watch.” As she lifted her gaze, her attention went inevitably to the threesome. The African American nuzzled at the woman’s breasts and pushed aside the material of her green silk dress to reveal a naked nipple. Jillian only got a glimpse of the dusky tip before the man sucked it in and pulled, his cheeks drawing in as he sucked. The heat inside her glowed and began to burn. Chase’s low voice penetrated her concentration. “That’s

64

Red Heat

Sylvia with her husband Rob—the white guy—and her lover, Gabe. At least they’re the names they use here.” The woman thrust her breasts at Gabe, the African American, and the other man, Rob, wrapped her in his arms from behind, cupping the breasts for his friend to enjoy. Her eyes half-closed, her dyed blonde hair drifting away from the jeweled clasp at the back of her head, the woman gasped and turned her head. The man holding her swooped down for a kiss. Jillian couldn’t look away. Mechanically she brought another forkful of fish to her mouth, just for something to do, something normal to touch. The meal, once so appetizing, now tasted of nothing. She gave up and reached for her glass. The touch on her hand made her draw away in shock, so absorbed was she in the spectacle before her. His soft voice intruded on her thoughts. “What are you thinking? Describe it.” She found her voice. “Can we go home now?” “If you want to. Do you? Do you, Jillian? Be honest with yourself. Tell me. How does this make you feel?” She swallowed. “Embarrassed. Hot.” A bead of sweat trickled down her spine. More moisture gathered between her thighs. Waves of heat coursed over her body but she couldn’t identify it. She wasn’t sure she liked it, the intensity swamping her usual state of mind. He traced the shape of her hand with his fingers, feathery sensations adding to her shivers. “Keep watching. This place is not for staged sex acts but for people who like to put on a show. Those people at the next table come here for that reason but they don’t have to. Look over there.” She tore her gaze away from the threesome only to see a couple at a table farther off, nearer the door. The woman lay on the table, her blouse pulled down to expose her breasts, her skirt hiked up to her waist, revealing her panty-less state. A man stood, only his pants undone and his sheathed penis about to push inside her. The woman glanced around and her tongue emerged to sweep over her lower lip. When she saw Jillian watching, she smiled slowly. Her attention returned to the trio at the next table. Rob held Sylvia so Gabe could feast. His tongue circled her nipple, and when he sucked it again he glanced up at Rob and they exchanged a look so dark and hungry no actor could have duplicated it. Heat simmered through Jillian followed by sharp chills that made her shiver. Chase’s murmur heated her ear, and he lingered to lick and taste. He’d slid to the chair next to her instead of sitting across the table and she leaned back into his arms now. His touch seemed almost innocent compared to the display going on at the next table. Jillian watched, unable to look away or unwilling, it didn’t matter which, not now. With a wicked grin, Gabe lifted his mouth away from her nipple. It pointed, hard and glistening, at the light above the table. Someone had pointed a brighter light at 65

Lynne Connolly

them, casting them into their own spotlight, the dimmer atmosphere cast into sharp chiaroscuro. Dimly, she became aware of other people watching, as the clink of fork against plate slowed, and low murmurs punctuated the display. Rob cupped his wife’s breast, lately tortured by her lover, and kissed Sylvia’s forehead, murmuring to her. She glanced up at him, her eyes gleaming in the brighter light, and she smiled, a seductress to her core. Gabe had slipped the zipper that held her ruby silk dress together at the front right down. It separated at the base, opened and became irrelevant. He freed her other breast but he didn’t remove the underwire bra that had contained them. Instead, he used it as a platform to help hold up the heavy breasts, thrusting hungrily toward everyone’s gaze. Jillian wondered if the other diners watched as avidly as she did, but she didn’t tear her eyes away to check. She heard the low murmurs, and knew they did, although she couldn’t detect words, the timbre and soft sighs telling her all she needed to know. Chase lifted and turned her, chair and all, so she faced the group and she couldn’t deny watching them. The pulse between her legs ached and throbbed, and she separated her legs a little, dying for his touch. She didn’t receive it. Instead he nuzzled her neck and whispered to her. “Keep watching, Jillian. You know you want to. If we’re lucky, they’ll both fuck her. Would you like to see that? Do you want to know what their cocks look like? “Mmm.” The agreement left her throat before she became aware of it. She couldn’t deny this turned her on, powerfully. She had to go with it to see what happened next. Gabe slid his thumbs between Sylvia’s panties and her skin, the soft, lush flesh indenting under his thumbs. Sylvia was no stick-thin model type, but had large, full breasts and generous hips. Her navel, deliciously indented, was decorated with a single ruby that gleamed invitingly under the light. Gabe took the invitation, his tongue snaking out to taste the skin around it, then taking the jewel into his mouth and tugging gently. Sylvia moaned, turning her head so Rob could kiss her. He took her mouth, his cheeks indenting as he plunged deeply inside with his tongue, before withdrawing and playing at her open mouth, his tongue flickering around her lips as if he rimmed her, before returning for a deep, mouth-to-mouth caress. Sylvia’s skin quivered under the onslaught of the two men. Rob found her nipple, and tugged and tortured them, stretched the tips, pinched them between his fingers. His wife moaned and pushed her nipples into his hands, but he continued to torture her. Such delicious torture. Chase murmured again, his breath hot on her ear. “Can you feel his touch? Can you imagine what it’s like to have a hundred people watch you as your husband and your lover drive you wild and make you helpless to resist?” “Ohhh.” Liquid flooded her pussy and she opened her legs a little. Chase gasped, then drew in a deep breath. “Oh yes, yes, I can smell you now. Gorgeous. You can’t feel my cock, but I’m hard, wanting you. Shall I take you here? Would you like that?”

66

Red Heat

She caught back her instinctive “Yes!” shame flooding her but accompanied by such unbearable need she knew she would find it hard to resist him. Gabe drew down Sylvia’s panties and stood to unzip himself. Jillian could hardly believe she was about to watch them but something lurked at the back of her mind. Maybe she’d seen him before, that darkly beautiful skin, exposed when he pulled off his shirt with impatient hands to let Sylvia reach for him and spread her palms over the expanse of his chest. Or maybe she recognized the situation. Her mind rejected that immediately, but that was her consciousness speaking. Something else, deep inside, murmured to her, the insidious voice growing stronger. Gabe knocked Sylvia’s legs apart, staring down at her pussy, which was shaved smooth. He glanced up at Rob and smiled again. Rob nodded, a terse one completely at odds to the way his hands continually caressed, smoothed and shaped the woman at his mercy. Gabe’s cock jutted before him, thick and long and as she watched, he smoothed the pre-cum over it, circling one finger below the flared base, around and back up to the slit at the top. He looked up again, but this time at Sylvia, the way her mouth opened, as if to receive that hunk of man right inside. “Do you think he’ll fuck her mouth or her pussy? Do you want a bet on it?” “What are the stakes?” she managed, her voice none too steady. “Hmmm. How about we get it on too?” She shook, her body trembling in his hands. Could she? Did she want to? Fantasy was one thing, but this—this surpassed anything her mind could make up. Feet away from her was a living representation of one of her secret fantasies. She could at least admit that to herself. And, probably, Chase. His hand moved, coming to rest just under her breast, a little less harmless than before, when it had lain at her waist. Now he threatened to cover it and she knew she wouldn’t stop him. “Oh yes, Jillian, yes. That’s it. Let your fantasies ride. Go with it, don’t resist it. You want to do this, be there, be my Sylvia.” She did. Fuck, she did. Gabe moved between Sylvia’s legs but didn’t enter her. Instead he stroked his cock up and down her cleft, collecting her juices, before he grasped it and slid it farther up her body. Rob lifted Sylvia, slid her down the table, so Gabe could reach her navel and anoint the ruby with his essence mixed with her juice. Jillian saw the trail of fresh, clear liquid before Gabe bent and licked it off. He stood and pushed inside Sylvia in one smooth movement. Sylvia cried out, hiding Jillian’s low moan, one she wasn’t aware of before it left her lips. Chase growled, his hands gripped her before he flattened them again to hold her tight. From where they sat they had a perfect view. Sylvia’s vagina grasped Gabe’s cock, hungrily devouring it when he pushed inside, releasing it with reluctance when he pulled nearly out. Jillian nearly came when she saw Gabe holding his cock barely 67

Lynne Connolly

inside, the base of the head clearly visible for a moment before he pushed deep inside again. Without Rob’s grip, holding his wife firmly so she could receive her lover’s hard, thick cock inside her, she might have tumbled to the floor, so wildly did she buck and push back against the invasion. She hadn’t seen Gabe sheathe himself but the thin rolled edge could clearly be seen against the dark skin. She had never taken an African American, but now she wished she had, or that the small town she’d grown up in had been less rigid in its prejudice. She could think of several college friends she would have gladly fucked had she had the opportunity or the daring. Now, here, in cosmopolitan New York, it seemed stupid that she’d even hesitated or taken the opinion of others into consideration. She’d been scared, that was it, scared of the repercussions in case anyone had found out. That was how prejudice spread. Fear and shame. The trio before them had nothing to be ashamed of, displaying their bodies and their undoubted passion for each other for anyone who cared to look. An epiphany swept through her. That was why Talents remained hidden for so long. Because they could. She’d read an interview with Sandro Gianetti, where he’d said that dragons became the prey of choice at one time, that they received the blame for everything that went wrong. They’d nearly died out in Europe before they went underground, into hiding for so many long years. And she grew afraid that she was part of it now, a continued persecution. Did Caroline’s beginnings drive her to this, or was she afraid too? She didn’t know and watching Gabe power into Sylvia, watching the woman curl her legs around her lover to draw him deep inside her, it all seemed unimportant. Right now this was all that mattered. The sounds of their fucking reached her, the soft, squelching sounds combined with the collision of flesh against flesh and the woman’s moans, increasing with every stroke. She stiffened, the muscles in her stomach and arms taut for one still moment before she screamed, and with a low groan, Gabe succumbed to her charms. His back arched into her as gripped her hips and spent his seed into her. Jillian could feel it, the hot stream of liquid pushing against the thin barrier, fighting to get into her. Gabe pulled out, and his hand went down to his cock, removing the condom and smiling up at her. They said nothing. They didn’t need to, but Sylvia stretched out her hand and he took it, for a link that said everything about their feelings for each other. He stepped around to her head, after pulling up his pants, zipping them as he went, but he didn’t retrieve his shirt. Jillian stared at Sylvia’s pussy in awe, the open slit leaking fluid. But they weren’t done. Once Gabe had curved his hands around Sylvia, supporting her just under her breasts, he freed Rob to replace him. Rob had his pants off already, his cock bobbed as he walked, already sheathed, ready for his wife.

68

Red Heat

And she was ready for him. She grabbed him as he walked past and he allowed her a moment to caress and grip him before he freed her hand and continued on his way, stepping between her legs as her lover had just done and entering her in one smooth thrust. As if he couldn’t wait. The contrast of skin against skin, soft peach against milk chocolate was almost too beautiful to bear. Heightened by the harsh light shining down on them, every movement emphasized by the sighs and moans and the squelch of body against body, Jillian was almost there, could feel the contrast between Gabe’s thick cock and Rob’s longer, slimmer one. “Rob will probe deeper, reach the depths of her. Gabe would fill her, stuff her with flesh, force her into coming. Gabe will touch her every time he thrusts, tempt her and lead her into orgasm. Which would be the better, do you know, or is the contrast so delicious she can never choose?” Chase read her thoughts and answered them effortlessly. She’d be afraid, if she didn’t trust him so much. Rob pushed forward, thrust hard, then moved his hips in a rotation that caused Sylvia to wail and scream. Jillian’s senses skyrocketed. She couldn’t deny it any longer. This turned her on like nothing else, watching and sharing the experience. They climaxed in a vortex of heat and light, naked bodies colliding in ecstasy. And Jillian loved it. Chase’s voice, so soothing and calm now, continued to flow over her. “This isn’t an orgy, people don’t usually share. And I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. But I want to make love to you. Naked, up there.” She tore her attention away from the trio before them, now helping each other dress with small, intimate touches that said so much and she gave a shocked stare at the small stage. She’d assumed it was for cabaret acts, a singer, maybe a pianist but she was wrong. Lights flickered on, illuminating the area, as the light over the trio at the next table snapped off. “This is what I meant, sweetheart. This is how we’ll jog your memory, get your mind working again. I can’t break those barriers in your mind without hurting you and perhaps killing myself but you can dismantle them from the inside. But to do so, you have to know for sure that you are Jillian Miller. No amount of me telling you so will persuade you, only the sure and certain knowledge will do that. Jillian loved coming here, loved sex in public. Let me show you.” “I-I don’t know.” Jillian knew that hot, uncomfortable feeling was desire. She couldn’t hide it now, wouldn’t hide it from herself. Sex in public. Jesus. The woman opened her eyes and made a slow sweep of the room, smiling when she saw the attention everyone paid her. All but the couple at the other end and they were attracting their fair share of admirers. She thought she recognized the man but she couldn’t be sure.

69

Lynne Connolly

As if he read her mind—of course he did—Chase murmured, “We also assure absolute discretion. Outside those doors, this place ceases to exist.” So she wouldn’t recognize the man, even though she knew him now. An actor on a daytime soap but further than that she couldn’t go, even if she wanted to. She rarely watched soaps. She gasped. Caroline watched them all the time. Jillian didn’t. But she’d had the thought naturally. Her pussy throbbed and moisture eased down her thighs. Her breath quickened. Chase’s touch on her hand firmed and he stood. Jillian took her gaze away from the threesome with reluctance. She did enjoy watching, she couldn’t deny it anymore. The small-town girl that was Caroline wouldn’t have liked this, she knew that for sure. Not because she was from a small town but because she was naturally closed-minded, never daring to share new experiences or anything risqué. Jillian was different and although the experience intimidated her, she trusted Chase. He drew her close. “I promise I’ll stay in your mind all the time and we’ll stop the minute you want to. Really want to, that is. I’ll take care of you.” “I know you will.” Her pussy still throbbing almost painfully, she knew she wanted this. Needed this. She knew it in her heart. Even if she couldn’t remember Chase from before her accident, she knew him now and everything he did and said, everything he showed her, proved him a decent and honorable man. Fuck her training. With her memory so full of holes all she had to rely on was her sense of right and wrong. Enough. She took Chase’s hand and allowed him to lead her to the small stage. Her breathing constricted from a mixture of terror and arousal, sending adrenaline pumping through her. He took her up to a light smattering of applause and she smiled, despite her apprehension. Chase murmured in her ear, “Think of it as a kind of karaoke night.” That made her smile for real. To compare this experience with standing up to sing something didn’t compare at all. Or did it? When she felt his hands at the back of her dress, she shuddered and her head tilted up, resting on Chase’s shoulder. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he crooned into her ear, his breath sending frissons of heat along her sensitized skin, “Relax and let me take care of you. Give yourself to me.” “Yes.” That was what she wanted, what she truly wanted right this minute. The sound of the zipper came unnaturally loud to her ears and before she could think, he stroked his fingers up her spine and spread them flat on her shoulders, pushing her dress off. It slid down to her feet. “Step out of it.” He bent to pick it up and throw it over one of a row of chairs at the side of the stage. For a brief instant she stood on her own, dressed in an electric blue silk bra, panties and black stilettos. She’d never felt so alone. He returned and curved his hands around her waist from behind. The warmth spread through her body, heated and excited her. She would have forgotten the diners except that most eyes were now trained on her and unlike a theater, she could see them, 70

Red Heat

dim shapes in the candlelight that adorned most tables, their eyes gleaming in the gloom. The couple making out at their table had resumed their seats, except that the woman sat on the man’s lap and they had both remained naked and the threesome were still busy, stroking and soothing now, but their gazes strayed in their direction. At first, Jillian couldn’t meet their eyes but at a slight moan from the front of the gathering she jerked her head toward the sound. Her gaze met the man’s, a middle-aged man with a shiny bald head and a powerful body. Vin Diesel but a bit shorter, she thought. And not so good looking, she added when he moved a little and the light caught his features. But she wouldn’t push him out of bed. As long as I’m in your bed, there’s only room for two. The warning words in her mind reminded her he’d promised to remain there. Amusement filled her now. I’ll have to be careful what I think. You will. Dark humor colored his voice. His hands curved around her waist and cupped her breasts, still cradled in the silk bra. He rubbed over the tips, the abrasion raising her nipples to taut, sensitive peaks. She leaned her head back against his supporting shoulder and he nuzzled her neck and her ear. “Don’t close your eyes. Remember why we’re here and keep in touch with yourself. Watch. See how high you can go. How high I can take you. I’m going to fuck you here, Jillian, fuck you senseless and everybody will be able to see it. Watch it. Share in your orgasms. But they don’t have psi senses, so they have to rely on the others. Everything except taste and touch. They belong to me.” Sight, smell, sound, she had to give them those things. And give them freely. Would he eat her out in front of this crowd? Somehow that seemed impossibly intimate to her, but he answered her. “If it sends you higher, I’ll eat and drink from you, and not stop until you beg me to.” She loved oral sex. She couldn’t imagine begging him to stop, but maybe she’d go for it. “You’re here to rediscover yourself, remember what you were—and are.” Right. Here to get in touch with herself, to try to find some trace of who she really was, memories that occurred before the accident. But it was hard to remember when he stroked her like that, when he eased the straps of her bra down to kiss her shoulders before he unclipped it at the back and eased it away from her. Then he cupped her naked breasts and offered them up to view, lifting them high so her nipples stood proudly confronting her audience. Jillian heard an intake of breath from several sources and dared to focus her view. Watching them watching her sent a shot of arousal right into her pussy and she knew her panties were dampening. And it turned her on. She arched her back to push her breasts out and heard Chase’s chuckle. “Now you hold them. Show those pretty breasts to our friends, tease them with what they can see but not touch.”

71

Lynne Connolly

The tremor in her hands denoted excitement now and she let the audience see just how much they shook as she lifted her breasts for their approval. The small sounds they made, grunts and the low murmurs, told her they were there, they were watching her. Chase slid his hands down to her waist and lower. He stroked her pussy, one finger lingering in the cleft between her labia, dampness seeping through her panties. “They can see how wet you are,” he murmured, his voice just loud enough to reach as far as the first few tables. “The dark patch on your panties, so beautiful.” He raised his voice and it gained a sterner tone. “Take them off.” Cool air swept over her when he stepped back. “Show them, hot stuff. Show them that beautiful cunt.” Chase rarely used the word “cunt”, but she knew why. For now she was an object, a source of excitement, and he would handle her like one. Oh wow, who would have thought that would turn her on? Amazingly, her second thought was about her last bikini wax, a long time ago but she kept the shape neat recently by shaving the edges and trimming her hair. Chase didn’t like a completely shaved woman. It took her a second to realize that since she’d hooked up with him, he hadn’t stated a preference. Not this time. But he had—he had—she choked and almost looked around but he spoke to her intimately, mind to mind. Take them off, Jillian. You’ve done it before, on this stage. Concentrate on that. He was right. She’d faltered when she realized the memory was something she just knew, not something she remembered him telling her. She concentrated on hooking her thumbs in each side of her only remaining garment and sliding her panties down her legs, stepping out and handing them to Chase, who put them on the chair with her dress and bra. He lifted another chair and brought it onto center stage. The chair was a plastic one with a wire frame, like the chair in the Christine Keeler photograph, reproduced so often with different people over the years, but he didn’t turn the chair around and ask her to straddle it. Instead, he put it down and asked her to sit. “Legs open. Then open your pussy with your fingers and let them see how wet you are. No touching. Leave that dripping clit alone for now.” She swallowed but sat and after the merest hesitation, she opened her legs wide, planting her legs on either side of the chair. The rustle of clothing told her Chase was stripping and the appreciative murmurs took on a more feminine tone. Until she slid her fingers into her cleft and speared her pussy open, avoiding her clit although it throbbed and begged for her touch. At this point she would have invited the bald guy in the audience up to touch, and wondered if anyone did that. Chase picked up her thought. Some do, but not you. Never you. You’re mine, Jillian, every delicious bit of you. The adjective made her wonder if he’d eat her pussy after all. “Maybe. Touch your cunt, babe. Let them see you push a finger deep inside your body.” The air that burst over her most sensitive flesh had a masculine heat to it. Knowing she controlled what they saw, knowing her actions were turning them on, made her so hot she squirmed on the chair. Then she slid one finger down and inside.

72

Red Heat

Words reached her now, words of appreciation and finally she let her gaze span the dining room. Nobody was eating now although she caught the glint of a few glasses as they tilted toward dry lips. A woman swept her tongue over her lower lip. One woman sat on a man’s lap, their half-eaten meal forgotten, and she wriggled, making her man groan. Jillian loved that she was helping this couple get off with each other. It made her feel good. Even better when Chase’s hands descended onto her shoulders and she heard his voice commanding her. “Up.” She removed her finger, stood and he turned her. His eyes burned into hers, no coldness left in the blue depths, like the center of a white-hot storm. He touched her chin with two fingers and took her mouth with his. She opened to him, pressing against him and she felt his warmth suffuse her mind. But she didn’t need his reassurance now, only his heat and the hard cock currently pressing into her belly. He shoved her thighs apart with his, pushing his leg up and hard against her clit. She wanted this so much. Rest in my mind. When you can’t see, I’ll let you look through my eyes, see what I see. Wow. Not her most articulate word but the only one she could manage right now. She had her back to the audience and when she let Chase take control, she felt him in her mind, almost unbearable intimacy as he brushed her with a velvet soft touch. She saw their audience watching, avidity in every pair of eyes. Some fondled their partners, some sat rigidly still. One man had his cock in his hand as they watched, she and Chase, as he slowly stroked it from balls to tip and back again. The trio at the back had paused and now the woman sat on the naked lap of the African American, while the other man sat close, touching her breasts. But they weren’t fucking. Somehow Jillian knew they were affording her and Chase that honor. And it was an honor. She felt it. They’d enthralled the whole audience. She opened her legs over Chase’s thigh, felt the rough hair caress her, felt her juices soak them both. He lifted his mouth from hers and his attention left her briefly. A crackle of foil and she stared at the packet Chase had in his hand. He grinned. “House rule,” he said. “Everybody has to use one.” He tore the foil and sheathed his cock, wasting no time in niceties. He withdrew his thigh and when she tried to close her legs, he stopped her, his free hand on her waist. “No.” She knew he meant them to see. He retrieved the chair and sat on it, his cock jutting lewdly up toward her. He spread his legs and patted one in a gesture that invited her to sit. When she made to straddle him he stopped her again. “Turn around.” She moved away enough to turn and face the audience once more and she felt her secretions, already liberally coating her inner thighs, increase. A drop trickled down her leg, teasing her oversensitized nerves. The whole audience watched the course of that single drop. Every eye burned her flesh with the attention. Behind her, Chase groaned and touched her skin, catching the drop on his finger. He put his hands on her waist and she felt the extra dampness when that wet finger touched her heat. It should have

73

Lynne Connolly

turned into instant steam but she didn’t watch. She was too busy watching that straining cock as she backed up until her ass touched his chest and she slowly lowered herself onto him. When it touched her labia, the shock of it arced through her body and she had a vision of another time but this place. Her hair was shorter, barely brushing her shoulders, and her body leaner, with none of the thin scars in secret places that showed where the plastic surgeon had done his best to minimize the damage to her body. So that she could seduce Chase. So that she could do this to him. Except that he’d seduced her too and now she didn’t care what happened so long as she had him. Always. The word shivered into her mind and at the same time he penetrated her. Barely, his cock kissing the inside of her pussy, sliding in, with that slight resistance that told her it was Chase inside her, Chase making love to her, Chase fucking her. Wherever they did it and in whatever circumstances that remained the same. It always had. He penetrated her body and her mind, his heat, his presence all she wanted now. His hands gripped her waist, her own moisture a slight presence in the heat pouring from his body, both of them sweating now. If she’d imagined the immaculate Chase Maynord sweating when she’d studied those reports about him back at her IRDC home, she’d have dismissed it as fanciful. Now she felt it and knew him. And a barrier in her mind burst open, like a flower exploding to expel its pollen over the surrounding area and everyone in it. His cock deep in her cunt, he lifted her and urged her to move. Then she saw herself and him, as if she were in the audience. In her mind’s eye. She closed her eyes and felt Chase in her, explaining. There’s a Talent in the audience. He’s letting me use a telepathic connection so we can see it for ourselves. He isn’t intruding into our inner selves, he can’t hear us communicate. Strangely, that thought reassured her. She didn’t want to expose all of herself to the audience, only her body and the great sex. Everything else belonged to them. The Talent had a magnificent view. Chase sat on the chair, his legs together, forcing his cock hard inside her and as she moved, she saw the slickness that was all hers, coating them both, the hard, red shaft sliding in and out of her, each plunge easing the way for the next. “Oh God, fuck me, never stop!” “Not until I’m done. What do you think, should we ask the men to oblige until you can’t move? Fuck you until you can’t stand up?” She knew he wouldn’t, but the thought turned her into a wild animal. She screamed, her pre-orgasm rocking her body higher, harder. Chase tilted her forward slightly until his cock met her sweet spot. She saw her muscles flinch in her lower stomach when he found it and she moaned. Half the audience moaned along with her. She opened her legs, making the view better. Below her, a man cried out. He hadn’t lasted until the end of the performance. Score.

74

Red Heat

But she no longer cared. Now she and Chase were the only people who mattered, the only ones here, their experience unique and shared between them alone. She placed her feet on the lower rung of the chair for purchase and she worked him, fucked him hard. Shocks reverberated through her body with each stroke, each plunge of his body in hers. His balls hardened under her ass and she knew he was about to come. His hands stiffened where they held her and he forgot to help her move, so she did all the work, moving by rote, by habit as if this rhythm was all she had left. She couldn’t tell if the little explosions in her mind were the barriers Chase claimed she had or mini orgasms, teasing and fulfilling, reminders of what would follow. Then her whole body convulsed and she felt open, exposed and she loved it. She came around him and he cried out, dragging her close, his cock pulsing inside her as he emptied himself in her. He pushed his fingers between her labia again, teasing her clit, driving her into a harder, higher climax. Body and mind, all merged, all became the same. Where she was, even what she was didn’t matter anymore. Only Chase, only what he was giving her, what he knew she’d need, she wanted. They sat together and he hooked his arms around her waist, cuddling her close before he eased her off him. She sat on the chair staring at the audience and heard the patter of applause before Chase returned, their clothes draped over one arm, to guide her off the stage and back to their table.

75

Lynne Connolly

Chapter Eight “I can’t believe I did that.” Chase shot her an amused glance over the table. They were back in his apartment at the hotel. After helping her to dress, they hadn’t stopped for dessert, although the trio on the next table had taken over the show and were liberally decorating each other with what looked like lemon mousse, ready for their second act. Jillian stirred the foam around her cup and watched it as if it were the most fascinating cappuccino in the world. She looked up then and he snagged her, his perceptive ice-blue stare perversely warming her. “You did it. And you opened up. Can you tell, have you thought about it?” “No. I couldn’t think of anything else but…” She felt herself blush, the hot blood coursing to her face. He reached out and stroked her face with gentle fingers. “If that hadn’t helped, then we would have been in deep trouble. I won’t enter your head deeper than the outer layer until you want me to. Take your time. Tell me what you remember but only when you want to.” She lifted her cup to her lips and took a deep, appreciative sip. He’d offered champagne but she was intoxicated enough to go without alcohol and she wanted a clear head to think about what happened. Chase made excellent coffee. “I tell you what. You tell me about that club and where Jillian fitted in to it.” Smiling, he took her hand. “We discovered it by accident. You haven’t been in my office here yet. I’ll take you. It looks out over the foyer but it has one-way glass on an off-on switch, so I can keep an eye on what’s going on without anyone seeing me. My father had ordinary glass there but it’s not my style. He liked to be the Big Boss. I prefer a less autocratic approach.” He paused and stroked her palm. “Most of the time. Anyway, you were in my office and I started talking dirty to you. You didn’t realize the glass was one way so when I teased you, you thought the people below could see us. You did more than steam up the glass.” He laughed when her blush intensified but it was a kind of laughter she hadn’t heard before from Chase—carefree, truly happy. Memories floated in her mind, vague recollections of Chase pressing her against a big desk. “Is your desk dark wood—walnut, maybe?” “Mahogany.” “And it’s a very big desk. With gilt fittings.”

76

Red Heat

His smile broadened. “Brass. It’s an art deco desk, one of the original fittings in the hotel. That was where I discovered we had a mutual interest. After we fucked there, it had special memories for me.” She ducked her head but he kissed her hand and she looked up at him. “Hey, it’s me. Can you see the office in your mind?” She shook her head. “Only the desk.” “Good enough. That first time you opened yourself to everyone who wanted to see, as far as you knew, and I’d never known you so wet. So I found the club and bought in.” “Oh!” Visions of what she’d done tonight flooded her mind but now she recognized the arousal mingled with the flush of embarrassment. And instead of backing off, she savored it. “The security on that club is the best. There is a limit of three hundred members and four key staff at each venue know them all. By sight. Faces and names. They’re utterly reliable and we do have contingency plans if by chance somebody undesirable gets past the vetting procedure. One of those members of staff is always at the door when the club is open. Safer than any fingerprint ID.” She chuckled. Images flashed past her, of cameras, BDSM dungeons, even a slave auction. The last one made her melt. Chase chuckled and kissed her palm. “We are so trying that one out. Except that I get to buy you. Then you have to do everything I order you to do. Everything.” The heat in her pussy grew. “So you like it too?” “We wouldn’t be such a good match if I didn’t. Oh yeah. Doing it to you and watching those people watching us, knowing I’m the only man in your bed—oh sweetheart!” His arousal nudged at her and she wanted to forget it all and go to bed. Make love in the old-fashioned way. “That too,” he murmured. “We can do both. I want to make love to you, maybe we’ll take a soak in the tub first—or afterward—or both.” He groaned. “I think they call this spoiled for choice.” New resolve shaded his eyes. She knew what he wanted before he asked it. “Sweetheart, can I see? Watch you masturbate in the bath? That would so turn me on.” Tension gripped her but then she remembered—this was Chase. She had nothing to fear from him. She took her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded. He released her hand and stroked her lip, sending shivers through her and she sucked the tip of his thumb into her mouth, releasing it after passing her tongue over it. He gasped and flushed but he didn’t move although his smile turned wicked. “I owe you for that. And I don’t forget my debts.” He moved into her mind, his presence a soft caress, and he touched her, deep inside. “I thought this would hurt.”

77

Lynne Connolly

“I would never hurt you.” His soft tones melted as his presence softly explored her in such an intimate way she felt her arousal rise. She’d thought herself incapable after the episode at the club but it seemed she was wrong because the now familiar warmth spread deep in her body. His slow “Mmm” told her he’d noticed and his touch grew even gentler, close to tickling. She stared into his eyes, losing herself in the blue depths, the very thing she’d been afraid of when she first arrived. It didn’t frighten her at all now. When had that stopped? She didn’t know, it had grown gradually but as Chase searched her mind, she looked too. Caroline had gone. She still had Caroline’s memories but they were like a story someone had told her, something apart from herself. Jillian. What she’d repeated to herself when she’d entered the hotel now became real. She was Jillian Miller and the fragmented memories, bits and pieces, were hers. What there was of them. She knew who she was and she could remember her childhood and most of her teen years. After that—nothing or little snippets that meant little to her. But she recognized Chase instinctively, knew him as her lover and her friend. She couldn’t remember where they met or how but she knew him. The scrape of his chair alerted her to Chase’s rising, then he walked around the table and jerked her to her feet, taking her mouth with a savagery she responded to with everything she had. In between kisses he growled against her mouth. “Jillian, Jillian!” She gasped and pulled back but only to get her breath. She leaned against him, resting her cheek on his chest, and felt his heart thudding against her. His arms held her tightly, protectively. “I saw it, some of it anyway. They hurt you badly. They took your memories away, excised parts of your brain. Butchers. Bastards. Fucking barbarians.” He let rip with a stream of invective Jillian admired for its inventiveness. None of it bothered her, aimed as it was at the people who’d used her. Bennett and his cohorts. At least she remembered that part. She looked up. “I can tell you their names and where they are, if they haven’t moved.” His hand came up to cup the back of her head. “That’s okay. We picked a couple of the people up who were persuading you that you were Caroline Cross. Your employer, Alison. They left the house but we tracked them down. Ann called to give me a progress report, but I didn’t have time to tell you before we left.” She shuddered. “I shared everything with Alison. All my hopes and fears.” “And now she’ll share everything with us.” His eyes turned icy and she saw the Chase Maynord the rest of the world had to contend with. Aloof, immaculate, even now his shirt hadn’t lost its crispness or his tie its precision. All served to distance him. And now she knew why.

78

Red Heat

Chase gazed at this woman he loved more than life and knew she didn’t love him. He held her closer, her sweet breath heating his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt. “You know I love you.” “Yes.” She would have spoken again but he stopped her. “I know you don’t love me. No, don’t say anything. I just saw it. But you like me and you think I’m an exciting lover. That’s a start.” God knew how he kept his voice steady. He wanted all of her. He’d hoped tonight would open memories for her of them both but the bastards who’d operated on her had taken much of it away. It wasn’t all a Sorcerer’s work or even a sensitive, those with lesser but still potent abilities. No, they used the surgeon’s knife. And he couldn’t put back what they’d taken away, only wait and love this new Jillian until she loved him back. Because he still loved her. Even though she remembered nothing, he loved her. A challenge maybe but he couldn’t keep her forever if she failed to love him back. He had to prepare himself. A mixture of the old Jillian and Caroline, this woman was neither but her own self. One day, when she was no longer in danger, she might want to leave. He had to let her, had to remain aware of what she really wanted. And make the most of her while she was here. If she was willing. He stared down at her, wondering how he would cope if she wanted another man. Hell, he couldn’t even share her, much less give her to someone else. Johann, vampire, devilishly handsome with a light tan he perversely preferred to keep up, Ricardo Gianetti, sensitive dragon shape-shifter, sensitive, but with the Machiavellian taste for violence and revenge, and Jack Hargreaves, wounded after the death of his lover Carilla. Maybe Jack was ready for another woman now. If Jillian wanted one of the members of his team, he’d request a transfer or stop working for STORM. No, he couldn’t do that but he’d move cities, hell, move countries. This wasn’t the only country going through the painful transition of realizing that the human race didn’t come in only one version. She was here, now, in his arms and if he had anything to do with it, she’d stay there. He had this chance and he wouldn’t waste it. He kissed her, deliberately holding back, making his kiss gentle and loving rather than hungrily passionate. She’d had that side of him once tonight. Time for something different. And he needed it too but only from her. He drew back a little and smiled into her eyes. “Enough for tonight. This isn’t going away—you’ll be the same in the morning. What you are now is what you’ll remain and perhaps time is the best healer, after all. Come to bed, sweetheart.” “Yes.” The word, murmured against his lips, tasted sweet. “Bed.” He led her to the bedroom and undressed her. Quietly, without flourish, for his own delight and for nobody else. Both had this urge to perform that made them both happy but not all the time and certainly not now. Now was theirs, a time for loving.

79

Lynne Connolly

After he’d undressed her, he drew back the covers and helped her into the huge bed. He liked his sheets changed every day, with high-count white Egyptian cotton. Jillian looked gorgeous against them, the stark white bringing out the lushness of her hair and the honey tone of her skin. He loved that she didn’t shave her mound, only trimmed, so her clit was clearly visible, peeking through the light cover of black curls. He enjoyed their pubic hair meshing, blending, his dark blond, hers black as pitch, loved watching it. When she held her arms out to him, he stripped quickly, not caring where his clothes landed, but stopped short of tearing them off. That wasn’t the mood he wanted to create. Not now. He joined her wearing a smile and nothing else. He took a moment to look at her, just look, with his hand resting on the delicious curve of her waist, before he drew her closer and kissed her. Everything he wanted, everything he needed lay under his hands and his mouth. How could she ever doubt it? Not now. He dismissed his gloomy thoughts and set himself to loving her. Not a difficult task with her beneath him, beautiful, her skin sending tremors of excitement through him every time he touched her. Her response to his kiss excited him, made him want to taste every inch of her, remake her as his after he’d shared her with other people. He kissed down her sweet throat, lingering on a pulse point no vampire would ever be able to resist, her soft moans music to his heart. She put her hands on his shoulders and kneaded, her fingers rhythmically digging in and releasing him, a kind of massage that aroused rather than relaxed and he savored her touch. He continued down her body, caressing her with hands and mouth, tasting every inch of her skin and noting the differences. The slightly saltier taste in her sweet folds, where the sweat had gathered earlier, the gentle sting of perfume on her pulse points and the individual, wonderful flavor of her most intimate places. He saved her clit until last, teasing around it, licking and tasting, rimming her pussy with his tongue until she squirmed under him. He wanted to make her flow for him, wanted to drink every drop until he knew he was the only man in her mind. In her heart. Stretching out his mind, he slid a little deeper into hers. When people said the best erogenous zone was the mind, they didn’t know the half of it. Stroking in time with his tongue, he tried to coordinate all his actions, the warmth he sent to her, his hands and his tongue. From the way she squirmed under him and her little cries of “Yes!” and “Oh God!” he must be doing something right. She came almost as soon as he closed his mouth over her stiff clit, her sweet fluid flowing over his chin. He licked, sucked and blissfully brought her to climax and beyond, ending lying between her legs, lapping up her come. It belonged to him, all of it. The sessions at the club and elsewhere had always ended with him reclaiming her as his own—it was part of the appeal, for him. For her, he knew the thrill of public display came from another place. He’d been born to privilege, always in the public eye and it pleased him to flout that, to offer something lewd instead of his usual polished, 80

Red Heat

professional appearance. She’d had a typical middle class upbringing, working her way up via university to manage several bead and gemstone outlets in Midtown and then start out in designing. All her own work, so to tease and display meant something else to her. For a change she didn’t have to demand that people looked, people listened, as she constantly did in the conferences, meetings and selling exhibitions. They would look anyway and they’d look at her, not at the merchandise she had for sale. Complex reasons, going far beyond the thrill of the experience, not invalidating but enforcing it. They understood each other but more than that, Chase responded to Jillian in a way he’d never responded to anyone before. And having given her his heart, he wasn’t about to do it again. So this was his one hope at a life companion, someone to understand him as well as he understood himself. He heard her derision echo in his mind. I don’t even know myself, how can I know you? You do. You will. Without giving her a chance to protest, Chase swung up on one elbow and came back up the bed to give her his wickedest grin. “And I’m about to show you how well you know me.” He pressed his lips to hers in a lavish kiss and brought his body in line with hers. “You want this?” “What a time to ask!” He’d distracted her from her melancholy thoughts although, knowing Jillian, she’d be back. But not tonight. Tonight was for celebration. She grinned. “Yes.” “I do too. I’m not going to force you into any direction.” He didn’t even know if her injuries had rendered her sterile, although right now that didn’t concern him one bit. Except that he meant what he said. “Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart, when you’re ready, so am I but not today.” Her smile gained a wistful edge. “No.” “Genug. Enough for now.” He thrust forward the inch necessary to bring him into her pussy. Both sighed, a mixture of relief and a feeling of rightness Chase hadn’t experienced with anyone else. He could almost believe in soulmates. Fuck that, he did believe. Jillian was his other half, for sure and certain. Her heat enveloped him, the sounds of their lovemaking a dulcet symphony of sex. His thrusts counterpointed her movements, when she pushed her hips up to join him and link their bodies. Sunk deep in her body, they opened their eyes and smiled at each other. “This is how it’s meant to be,” he murmured, just before he joined their mouths in a deep, penetrating kiss. Their orgasms followed as night follows day, naturally and as an evolution. A gentle tingle, then a surge and a rush of heat, until emotions and bodies joined in a rare moment of communion. Clever minds stilled, only physical reactions mattered and they became one in a perfect, shared climax.

81

Lynne Connolly

***** Jillian woke and stared at the face so close to hers on the pillow. They hadn’t separated in sleep. She lay in his arms and he in hers. His long lashes, luckily for him brown rather than blond, brushed his cheeks, moving slightly as he dreamed. Although she could have slipped into his mind and discovered his dreams, she didn’t like doing it. Close as they were, it still felt like an unwarranted intrusion. Even in sleep and tousled from loving Chase was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, although “beautiful” wasn’t quite the right word because there was nothing of the feminine about him. Even his lustrous blond hair was springy, wavy but she could never imagine it in a female style or that it would even work on a woman. Handsome didn’t work either. Elegant, stylish, refined, maybe. She remembered. That was what she’d thought when she first saw him. Across the proverbial crowded room, a jewelry exhibition, to be exact, when the organization she’d belonged to, a conglomeration of jewelry designers and importers, held a joint exhibition in the magnificent foyer of the Timothy. So when she’d walked in the other day it hadn’t been her first time, after all. Not even close. Dressed in her best evening gown, a wine-red silk number she’d bought in a Macy’s sale, her hair twisted up into a jeweled clasp, she’d felt good until she’d met the immaculate guests invited to view the goods. Her company, a relatively small one, specialized in semiprecious stones, highly polished daring creations for the avantgarde. She’d even designed and made a few pieces herself and was thinking of doing more, perhaps venturing into freelance design. But she hadn’t the luxury of not having to earn a living, so she’d have to do it at night and on her own time until she’d built a clientele. Meantime, managing the outlets in New York served her well and challenged her ability to turn a dollar or two. Two stores on Fifth, one on Madison and Eighty-first, near the Met, taxed her ingenuity. She tried to give them different identities, so one was for casual and daywear, another for evening and formal and the other for retro and art pieces. Her bosses were pleased and so was she until she heard the dark voice behind her. “Is everything to your liking?” A shudder passed over her and she gave herself a minute to regain her professional face before she turned around and met the most amazing eyes she’d ever seen in her life. Across a crowded room or alone, it didn’t matter. She’d have known him anywhere. He’d asked her back to bring a sample of her work, with a view to selling it in the hotel stores, and they’d hooked up. Her memories stopped there and nothing but scraps and patches remained, try though she might to regain it. The IRDC had stolen that from her, together with her identity and her free will. But she remembered Chase, what he’d told her of his life and how anguished she’d felt that she hadn’t been there to somehow make it better for him.

82

Red Heat

She tried remembering further back and then forward and she saw them in her mind’s eye, sitting on the terrace outside this apartment, talking. A perfect evening, sharing histories and confidences over a bottle of wine. Jillian was an orphan, losing her parents in a car crash just short of her twentieth birthday but they’d reared her well and despite the inevitable grief she’d coped with the loss and found herself a complete person. She had no one else, except some distant relatives in Europe she’d never met. But with a circle of friends and a busy social life, she’d never felt alone. She would have to look them up, if she could remember their names. Perhaps Chase could help. He stirred but only to draw her closer so she felt his breath on her neck. She closed her eyes, wondering if she could get a little more sleep and let her mind drift on to the lover she’d gained but never looked for. Chase had a privileged upbringing, a charmed childhood. Born into New York old money, his grandfather one of the founding members of the committees that had built New York up into the modern wonder it was today, his grandmother from European aristocratic stock, he’d gone to the right schools, gained the right qualifications and learned the hotel business. At the time, the family had little to do with the day-to-day running of the luxurious establishments that were the Timothy’s trademark. His father had used the New York hotel to meet his lovers and to make the occasional business decision, but he’d been on show rather than taking a deeper interest in the business. Chase had wanted a more hands-on approach. His family tolerated it, so once he left Harvard he’d gone into learning the trade from the bottom up. His father had expected him to spend a few days in the mailing room, half a day in the laundry and so on but he’d insisted on learning each task as much as he was able. And he’d discovered waste and corruption so that when he’d finally gained control of one of the hotels, he’d turned it around so completely his father had given in and allowed him his head. By that time, he knew his father, Henry Maynord III, wasn’t his real father. Chase’s first name was Henry but he’d refused to use it and by the time he’d reached puberty it was obvious his father had nothing to do with his biological conception. His psi Talent also made it obvious that his mother had taken on more than she’d supposed when she’d had sex with the hotel worker she and his father had chosen as the lucky sperm donor. For Henry Maynord III was sterile, shooting blanks. If the scheme had remained a secret, nobody would have objected. No doubt there were a few cuckoos in the crowned heads of Europe too. Not that they could compare in any way to a Maynord, of course, but the principle remained. And Chase looked enough like his mother to render any lack of resemblance to his father unremarkable. But that uncanny ability to read minds and move objects was not only scary, it was Not Done. Unacceptable. So Chase was accepted and trained but not loved. It was doubtful that any child of the Maynords would have been loved but his ability and his need for special education made it impossible for any bond to form, other than the political and economic kind. Every year Chase had improved profits, every year looked to his father for approval and every year been bitterly disappointed when his father had merely glanced over the 83

Lynne Connolly

balance sheet and gone on to discuss their upcoming trip to Cowes or Biarritz. They spent, Chase worked. Until he’d realized he’d never get affection or love and developed a cold, hard mask nobody had penetrated. Sorcerers learned to develop a mask, to conceal the ultra-sensitivity their gifts brought to them. All were icy, calm individuals or tried for it. Some balanced the control with kindness and compassion. Others couldn’t manage that feat and Chase was one of the latter. Until he’d met Jillian. Soon after their affair started she’d discovered that she was the lucky one, not Chase, something she’d considered ridiculous at first, when he’d taken her to first nights, special exhibitions, exclusive restaurants and she’d seen the respect his name and wealth brought him. But once Talents came out into the open that severed any connection he might have had with New York old money. Too different to fit in, too unusual. He’d given her everything and she’d rewarded him by running away, befriending Caroline Cross, the woman who’d sought to destroy Chase. Was Caroline even dead? A stirring in her mind told her he’d awoken and then his hand covered hers. “She’s dead all right. Good thing too. I might have killed her otherwise.” Jillian went into his arms. “I think it must have been an accident.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Possibly, but what happened afterward tends to indicate otherwise. An accident or maybe something her IRDC bosses cooked up. She was taking you in, heading for the Brooklyn Bridge, toward their offices. I’m sure of that now. A bit coincidental that she should be killed on the way.” He drew her closer. “Typical of that bastard Bennett as well. That he’d betray his own as well as you. That man has his own agenda and it’s not idealistic.” “What does he want then?” “My guess is money, power and fame. The worst kind of swelled-headed egomaniac. I don’t know for sure and frankly, I don’t care. He ran the sleep clinic at the John McIver University, trying to pick the bits out of Talents’ minds that made them different. Nasty stuff. It nearly killed two friends of mine, Ricardo and Sandro Gianetti. Remember them?” “I remember Ricardo from the other day but not Sandro.” “He’s in Washington now, heading up a team of bodyguards.” His mouth thinned. “The world is a dangerous place for Talents these days, especially the ones in positions of authority. They need all the protection they can get.” He leaned up and gazed down at her. “We need to restore what we can of your memory and then get on with our lives.” Her heart sank. She wouldn’t have this gorgeous man forever. He’d loved the Jillian he’d known, the fearless, kickass Jillian he’d first met, not her shattered self.

84

Red Heat

Almost as soon as she thought it, he dispelled the notion for her. He leaned down and touched her lips in a kiss so gentle she thought she might melt. He owned her with that kiss. His body pressed against hers in a warm, heavy blanket of possession and she gave him everything she was. He opened to her. She knew he found it hard to open completely, even to her, so when he did so it arrived like a blessing. What she saw staggered her. He loved her. With everything he was, he loved her. She closed her eyes but not soon enough to trap the tears that flooded them and a couple escaped. He kissed them away, his lips soft on her skin. “It doesn’t matter, Jillian. If you don’t want this, it doesn’t matter. I’ve had so much and you came back to me, you made me whole again. Don’t think you have to give me any more.” She felt so weak. She didn’t know if she loved him or not, she didn’t even know what love was, what it should feel like. Sensations and scraps of memory floated around her brain, owning no specific home. She thought of something that caught her unaware and she laughed. “There must be a lot of space in there.” She opened her eyes and saw he wasn’t laughing. His mouth was set in a hard, straight line. “There isn’t. They tried to take the ‘scientific approach’.” His voice took on a sneering tone with the last two words. “They haven’t the faintest idea what they’re doing but their arrogance pushes them to do it. So Bennett operated on you. Then used your loss of memory—memory he took—to persuade you that you’d had plastic surgery. I don’t think you were badly hurt in the crash, he just kept you high with opiates and did what he wanted. He even implanted a few memories of his own, memories of Caroline Cross.” He frowned. “I think they wanted her dead because of that, so they could replace her with you. Jesus, what they could have done to you!” He crushed her in a tight hug and she couldn’t breathe but she welcomed his embrace. She only felt safe in Chase’s arms. He rolled, taking her with him so she lay on top but their embrace wasn’t sexual any more. Comforting, loving and entirely welcomed by both. “Chase, if I hadn’t come back, what would you have done?” “Carried on.” He sounded lonely and friendless and it didn’t take her long to realize that was exactly how he felt. He had colleagues, people he respected and trusted but kept none of them close. The nearest was Sandro Gianetti and he wasn’t here anymore. An image of Sandro floated through his head, near the surface where she could pick it up. Like his brother but with a broader face, powerful, hiding everything. Just like Chase. He smiled. “He’s not like that now. Ever since he found Meghan. But after you died, he kept me going any way he could. He took me on flights—he rarely gives people flights—he took me home when I drank too much and made sure the staff didn’t see me at my worst. He stopped me using my powers indiscriminately. If I’d done that, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to survive.” He paused, gazing up into her eyes, and she lost herself in the blue depths. “Sorcerers are taught to control what they have. It’s as much a part of me as,” he paused and stroked his hand down her back, “as you are. But we can choose to let go. I wanted to do that when I stood on that street corner viewing the wreckage of your car. I wanted 85

Lynne Connolly

to crush and destroy, in the hope that whoever had done this would be in the vicinity and die. The body they left behind was burned too much to do anything but send the dental records to be identified. Ann Reynolds never closed the case. Not, she said, until we knew for sure. Well we know now. So what did they do? Exactly? Do you remember any more about the accident?” She bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m not going to remember that part, Chase. Ever. I know that now. I woke up in a private hospital. They told me I had good health insurance and I believed them. I was hardly in a state to do anything else, just grateful I could afford the treatment. It was only later they told me the truth. They operated some more, told me who I was, explained that I’d been on a mission to persuade you to join them and that they’d send me back as Jillian once I felt better. They said my face was destroyed, so they rebuilt me as Jillian.” She wouldn’t cry anymore. They weren’t worth it, the people who’d abused her. “They surrounded you with people to reinforce the story. They knew I would recognize an impostor, however cleverly they did the surgery or twisted your mind, so they left a little of Jillian there. Enough for me to find. But they forgot.” He bared his teeth. “I taught you how to hide your secrets. So you kept something back, more than they thought. And they can never do with a knife what I can do with my mind. Bastards.” His face relaxed and he drew her closer. “I will never hurt you, Jillian, and whatever you decide, you will get your life back.” “Even if it means leaving you?” His face and his mind were completely free of guile. “Even then.” She was almost sure he meant it. Almost.

86

Red Heat

Chapter Nine “It’s Bennett.” Chase, thin-lipped, his hand gripping Jillian’s, entered Ann Reynolds’s office with a bare knock on her door and without waiting for her to answer. She looked up, glaring at him through a formidable pair of square-shaped, blackrimmed glasses. “We worked that out for ourselves. Only one thing.” “What?” Chase nodded to Johann and Jack Hargreaves, who sat on the leather sofa in the so-called relaxation area, files sprawled over the coffee table in front of them. They nodded back and Johann, vampire extraordinaire, was next to speak. Ann glanced down at the paper in her hand and then back up again, straight at Chase. “They wanted her as an assassin. She was supposed to kill you, although she believed she was to recruit you. She had an extra command, one triggered by a phone call. Then she’d inherit your possessions, as Jillian, and bring them to the IRDC. What have you done about that?” She glared at Jillian. “I gave orders to ban her unless she came in with you. I trust you to keep her safe. You’ll be required to remove any secrets she learns while she’s here.” The hot blood rushed to his cheeks and he marveled at it, the first time he could remember revealing his inner thoughts involuntarily. This woman would finish his reputation as an ice-cold agent. “She’s not an assassin, that response was a trigger that Bennett or his cohorts put there to protect the inner memories that were locked away. When I came close, one of them went into action.” His mouth flattened in a grim line. “I’ve removed them all and yes, I’m sure. She’s Jillian now. I’ve opened every part of her mind. No triggers, no hidden commands. I’d stake my life on it. I do stake my life on it, without a qualm.” Jillian suffered the cold scrutiny of the three men and one woman until she had enough. He felt the flash of anger in her mind. “You don’t want me, say so. I walk. I came in to see if I could help but if you don’t trust me or you don’t want it, I’m leaving.” Ann Reynolds raised a brow and Johann gave her what looked like an ironic round of applause. Not so ironic, as it turned out. “Congratulations, little sister. We’ll make a spy of you yet.” Jillian snorted. “Not if I can help it. I’ve had a snootful of that and although I’m willing to help now, I don’t intend to join your jolly band of soldiers, any more than I’ll shoot off to the IRDC and do the long-lost agent act.” Ann leaned back in her chair. “Actually, that’s exactly what we want you to do.” Chase’s face went totally still. “Pardon me?”

87

Lynne Connolly

“You’re going in. You love Jillian so much that you will do anything for her. Plus, you’re disenchanted with STORM and the way we’ve gone public.” Ann arched a brow. “Any questions before we get to the details?” “No, ma’am. Let me hear it.”

***** Half an hour later, Chase drew a visibly reluctant Jillian out of the building and straight into the gaggle of newsmen who waited outside. There were always a few around these days and once news of Chase’s entrance went around, a few more had gathered. He eyed the mikes thrust in his face with disfavor but didn’t try to avoid them. “Are you ready to talk, Chase? Did your ability help you seduce women?” Chase glanced at Jillian. “Did it?” She gasped, unused to such public acknowledgement of their relationship, but regained her nerve. “No. You don’t need any of that.” He smiled at her, for one instant letting the warmth in his heart show. That moment would be all the media needed to get the message—Chase Maynord, a man in love. And Jillian couldn’t help it—she glowed back. “Can you tell us what your ability is precisely, Chase?” He turned to face them. “I’m what’s known as a Sorcerer. That’s a race of people rather than a profession. We’re born without the natural barrier that separates people from their psi senses and we don’t have the ability to develop it. Plus, our psi senses are enhanced. It’s all natural, genetically inherited.” “Do you use them in negotiations? With your bank manager?” “Never.” He didn’t hesitate with that response and she believed him. “I run a successful business and it’s not because I persuade every person who stays at the Timothy to do it as a personal favor to me.” The chuckles told her he was winning them over. “Do you live forever?” The fascination with the probable lifespan of Talents was a burning issue with the press. So far, no Talent had admitted to a longer lifestyle but it was just a matter of time before someone did. “I get the regulation threescore years and ten. Just like you guys.” “If we’re lucky!” some guy quipped from the back and more chuckling followed. “Does this mean you’re a member of STORM, Chase?” That question stopped Chase’s smile. If Jillian hadn’t known better, she’d swear it was real and she recognized the tingle that meant Chase was projecting, a very little, just to enhance his change of mood. “I help them sometimes. Because I’m not a full-time employee, I’ve agreed to be their representative in any coming negotiations with the IRDC. But I’ve also decided to distance myself from STORM in the future. This is

88

Red Heat

entirely a personal decision and does no way impinge on STORM and what it’s trying to do.” “What’s it trying to do, Chase?” He frowned. “Its stated aims are about to change. STORM wishes to represent Talents and their needs.” “Is that what you disagree with?” “Not necessarily.” He turned to draw her closer. “I dislike the exclusivity STORM advocates but I’m still discussing that factor with them.” That seemed like a good enough excuse for Chase’s bad-tempered withdrawal today and hinted at serious disagreements in the organization. Bait, in fact, dangled for the IRDC to take. “Don’t Talents breed true?” A random question from a known extremist organization, fronted by a newspaper that had tried to expose them for years. “You should know,” Chase said. “You tell me.” “So you’re a couple then, Chase?” He turned to her completely then and lifted her hand to his lips. “You bet,” he said softly but loud enough for them to hear. “In fact, I have a very important question for her. I’m going to ask her to marry me, guys.” In the stunned silence that followed, he flashed a blinding smile at the cameras, now flashing in reaction to his statement. “But I don’t intend to do it in public. So if you’ll excuse us now—” “I thought Ann Reynolds was a personal friend!” someone called just as they moved away. Chase turned back. “She was, once. Now she’s just someone I know.” He’d called a limo for them, a sleek, black, gleaming symbol of wealth and exclusivity and Chase helped her into the car as if she were too precious to touch the doors. He walked around to his own side. He only relaxed when they were inside and reached for her with one arm, loosening his tie with the other. “Vultures.” “I hope you mean the press and not STORM.” He flashed a steely glare out of the tinted window as a flash went off close outside. “Go,” he said through gritted teeth at the driver. He took off and Chase pulled her close. They sat together in silence for around four blocks before she broke the silence. “And your bombshell? Chase, that wasn’t fair.” His face had lost the set look when he turned it to meet her gaze. “Everything I said was true, except the part about Ann Reynolds and the resignation. She’s an operator, a player but we need those right now. Ann’s the best asset STORM has and she is a friend. Or will be again, once this is over.” “I didn’t mean that.” “No, I know.” He kissed her but moved away after a sweet meeting of lips. “I meant that part. But I’m not going to do it until you and I are both in the same place. It might not come to pass, you know. I won’t pressure you, you can be sure of that. Or I’ll 89

Lynne Connolly

try not to.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “You make it harder every day. So let’s just get this next part over with fast, okay?”

***** Within the hour Chase had received a phone call in his office. Seated at the huge mahogany desk, he watched the crowds going in and out of the hotel. Orderly and wellheeled for the most part, with the occasional tourist coming in to take a look at the famous people and their famous setting and perhaps visiting the carefully situated coffee shop where they could watch comings and goings without getting in the way. The coffee was outrageously expensive but when he’d set it up, Chase figured the viewing was part of the price. He gave orders not to move people on too fast unless they tried to take pictures. They’d need permission to do that. Some of the guests were camera-shy. He checked the digital display on the phone and lifted the receiver. Designed to look like an old-fashioned fifties white dial phone, it contained all the comforts of the modern instrument, together with a receiver that actually felt comfortable to use. The display merely read “Unknown caller”. It seemed to reflect the opinion of his PA who’d proved scathing in her response when he asked her to put all calls through. “Not that we have any work to do,” she’d said. If he wasn’t deeply in love with Jillian, he might have considered Pamela. She had the sassy edge he liked in a woman but she was far too good at her job for Chase to mess with her personally. But if she’d dumped that city hotshot she lived with before Jillian had arrived back in his life, she was the nearest any woman had come to tempting him. Maybe because she never went out of her way to do so. Not in the job description. Criticizing him seemed to be though. The call wasn’t the press, asking for an exclusive interview. These days of accelerated media, hardly ten minutes passed between breaking news and responses. Bored office workers had running news on the bottom of their screens, either that or sports results or even society gossip. In the last hour, two out of three would have his name on it. “Yeah?” “Chase Maynord? Busy this afternoon?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. So get on with it, will you?” He sent out his senses and sat upright. This was no media man although he might try to project that. A feeling of uneasiness shot through with sheer anger came down the phone to him, plus an intelligence he was sure he’d sensed before. High, arrogant intelligence, the kind college professors might show or politicians convinced of the rightness of their cause. “You want an interview?” “Yes, if it’s not too much trouble. And I have a little information for you, if you want to listen.” “Sure.”

90

Red Heat

“I represent the International Research and Development Clinics. You know us, right?” “Oh yeah.” He could safely make his answer a growl. He looked up to see Jillian enter his office. She looked around as if she didn’t remember this from before. He waved at her to sit down but she wandered around instead and stood with her back to him, staring out of the huge window that fronted the main floor of the hotel. Chase turned his attention back to the voice on the phone. “As I’m sure you know, we looked after your lady after her accident. We paid for her care and we made sure she was okay. We think she’s told you something about us that doesn’t include the propaganda STORM likes to use.” “Propaganda?” “We think so. You know there are two sides to every problem. Here’s the deal. I’m inviting you to visit us. Just visit, to see for yourself what we do and how we do it. All we want is the opportunity to share the staggering gifts Talents have with the rest of the world. Now that the organization is tightening its requirements, we think you’ve found yourself out in the cold. You didn’t walk out, did you? They threw you out.” Jesus, Ann kept busy. Less than an hour and the rumor had reached them already. “They want to verify the extent of the Talent, isn’t that right? And they decided yours wasn’t strong enough to be a classed as a Talent. You’re out, aren’t you?” “That wasn’t how it went down. I left after a disagreement. I’m not barred from the building.” He could tell by the set of Jillian’s shoulders that she was listening. “No? That’s not what we heard.” The voice at the end of the phone softened. “Listen, I’ll be straight with you. We have our agenda, you have yours. We honestly believe that these gifts should be shared with everyone. If we don’t take control, someone else will and you know that will be the government. They’ll batten you down, force you to share your Talents and you won’t have anyone to support you.” Chase shifted the receiver to the other shoulder. This man couldn’t be serious, could he? “I have plenty of people to support me.” “No you don’t, not anymore. If you won’t visit us, we’ll come to you. If you want.” The olive branch he’d hoped for. This move would have had one of two responses. The IRDC might consider him fair game and try to kill or kidnap him or they might choose to use him. The latter would mean persuasion, a gradual conversion. It seemed they’d picked the latter. A pang of disappointment shot through him. He knew this was what Ann wanted, getting someone into the organization to study its methods, but he wanted to kick ass. He wanted it badly. Ever since he’d discovered just what they did to Jillian, he wanted to hurt someone like she’d been hurt. But he knew something else lay deep underneath. Bennett. He’d be dug in deep and he’d take a lot of getting out. The more they knew about him and his relations with the

91

Lynne Connolly

main organization, the better they’d know what he was up to. And where he was. The sleep clinic that they’d closed down last year had been there for years, ostensibly coping with people’s problems, it exploited and used them. Bennett was well into brain surgery and experiments and Chase wanted to get his hands on him, so he could tear him apart. He glanced up at Jillian who stood by the big window, watching the activity below. Even the sight of her slim back and beautifully curved behind eased his mind, as well as creating some activity in the region of his groin. Hastily, he brought his mind back around to the conversation. “So where do we go from here?” “So you’re willing to talk?” “What harm can it do?” He injected a note of cynicism into his voice. “Talk’s cheap. I want to know what you think you can do for me and why I should even consider thinking about joining you.” “I think you’ll find we have a lot to offer.” Bland tones covering a wealth of meaning. All centering on the woman in front of him. That slim, gray pencil skirt did wonders for her rear—or rather, her rear did wonders for it and the white silk shirt held a shadow of her skin and the lace edge of her bra strap, tantalizing him with possibilities. The shoes—she should always wear heels. Watching her took the edge off his anger. Jillian was good for him in more ways than one. She gave him control, reminded him of the important things in life. He needed someone to melt the ice he’d deliberately covered himself with after Jillian left him and he was only just beginning to realize it. Self-sufficiency had its limits, although he could have gone through his whole life without realizing it if Jillian had remained dead. Thank God she didn’t. If she had turned out to be Caroline Cross with a plastic job, Chase knew he’d still have found it impossible to resist her. Jillian Miller was the love of his life. This was a different Jillian but he still loved her, still felt the bone-deep connection with her that made him sure that no other woman would fill that place in his heart. “So come to the hotel for a drink, maybe dinner.” Silence from the other end, probably while his contact consulted with someone. Eventually he received a sharp, “Acceptable. Today at seven-thirty.” “Agreed.” Get it over with. He replaced the receiver and got to his feet, going over to the window and unable to resist, he put his hands on her shoulders. “You like to look?” “It’s kind of peaceful, watching people going about their lives.” She leaned forward and rested her hands on the brass rail that acted as a safety barrier. “Is that…?” “Yes, it is. Jane Macadam always stays here when she shoots the outdoor scenes from her TV series. And claims it from the company. She likes the Garden Suite.”

92

Red Heat

“Wow. Who wants Hollywood when you can be on TV every night and stay at the Timothy?” He chuckled. “You get to stay here for free, why not her?” They tracked the progress of the actress as a member of staff joined her, followed by a man wheeling a stacked luggage trolley. “And she always steals a bathrobe. I think it’s a ritual.” He’d found that amusing, that an actress in a top-rated TV series would bother, especially when she could buy one. It had to be a superstition. He slid his arms around Jillian and lifted his hand to cup one breast. She wriggled against his hand but didn’t try to push it away. Her breathing quickened. Chase leaned in to murmur in her ear but first he swept his tongue around the rim in a quick sweep. “You remember me taking you on the desk in here, your pussy open for the world to see. Do you know I can switch the two-way effect on and off? Guess which one it’s set to now. Does it go both ways or only one way?” “Both?” “I’m not telling. Not yet.” He licked her lobe and took it into his mouth, nipped it and released it. The simple gold ring she wore touched his teeth, a cool, hard contrast to the fast-warming flesh surrounding it. He kissed down her neck, quick touches of his lips, touching his tongue to her skin as if by accident once or twice. Her head went back against his shoulder. He murmured to her, incomprehensible, soothing nonsense and continued on his journey. Her blouse dipped into a V at the front and he slipped his hand into it and released the first button. “One,” he murmured against her neck and kissed her chin. She tilted her head toward him so he took her mouth in a sweet, soft kiss, keeping everything gentle. His erection already pushed the front of his pants forward so the fabric felt tight over his ass but he kept it from her body, just touching the lower part of his body to hers, teasing her with occasional grazes. When she moaned and moved back against him, he moved back once more, not allowing her to push her backside into his groin. Exquisite torture, because he longed to feel her warmth arousing him. But he wanted to drive her mad and he wanted to savor these moments, remember each moan, each whimper. Already wanted her with a feverish intensity that screamed at him to drag her panties down and drive into her, now. She’d be wet enough, he knew it. But he wanted to wait, to drive them both into need almost beyond bearing. To prove his love. More and more he needed to do that, to drive her into a place where she knew for sure that he loved her and she’d have to face her own needs. And say that she loved him. Driving him, controlling him more than anything else he’d ever known. He kissed her mouth, tasting her with his tongue for one brief moment and then out again, to kiss her cheek, her forehead, her eyelids. He undid another button. “Two.” She shuddered. “Keep looking, sweetheart. See that guy at the information desk? That’s the man from Tiffany’s. He comes here a couple of times a week to restock the display in

93

Lynne Connolly

the gift store. Diamonds mostly, bracelets, necklaces and a few rings.” He kissed her with each item and then slid his hand down and popped another button free. “Three. He provides the gifts men choose for their women, girlfriends, wives, even mothers sometimes if they’ve forgotten birthdays or need gifts in a hurry. We stock everything in that store. Even condoms and sex toys, though customers have to ask for those. You want to know what toys we stock or maybe I should introduce you to them another way?” She shuddered. “Tell me the glass is one way, Chase.” “No.” He guessed the uncertainty was driving her insane. “See that woman in the middle of the hall? She’s waiting for someone. Under the chandelier. People make appointments to meet there. Guests and others, sometimes for romantic encounters.” He tasted her neck and kept his mouth there before he drew away. The woman looked up. He wondered if Jillian had noticed the clock set on the outer wall above his office. He guessed not from the shiver that went through her when the woman seemed to be looking directly at them. He firmed his hold on her and undid another button. “Four. How many more, Jillian?” “T-two. Chase, is she—looking at us?” “What do you think? Even with the one-way system on, she might be able to see shadows behind the glass.” He moved his hand up her torso to push the fabric aside and expose a lace-covered breast. “Can she see this?” He eased his hand inside the top of her bra and slid the lace down. “How about this? Pink and pouting, ready for my mouth.” He tweaked the peak between his fingers, twisted, giving her a shot of pain. She cried out and arched back, her spine straightening, but before she could pull away, he covered it again, soothing it with gentle strokes. “Sweet, so tender and delicate. And mine. Others can look but they can’t have it.” She wet her lips in an erotic gesture that nearly finished him there and then. “Yes.” The breathy, low voice reverberated through his whole body. He didn’t have to enter her mind to know how turned-on she was but he did it anyway because he loved to feel it, to share their emotions until they turned into a single roaring flame of want. Because he knew it turned her on, he carried on talking to her as he gently freed her other breast. “Keep watching, sweetheart. You see those people down there? Any of them could look up and see us. See you, exposed for their pleasure, their enjoyment. You have a gorgeous body, you know that?” He slid one hand down her body, over the sweet indentation of her waist to the side zipper of her skirt. He slid it down and popped the button holding the waistband so it fell down her legs with a swish of satin lining. He glanced down. A gray skirt with a red silk lining. Gorgeous. He adored the thought of conservative clothing covering decadent silks in the colors of the siren. Just like Jillian herself, so proper on the surface and pure, simmering sex goddess underneath. All his, waiting for him to take her, fuck her. Anytime, anywhere. Like right here, right now. He explored her body with his hands, craving every inch of that satin skin, until he reached her thighs and he groaned. Lace-topped black holdups cinched her legs, 94

Red Heat

providing a variety of textures for him to explore. Silk stockings, if she’d used the ones he’d bought for her. His hands slipped over her thighs. Oh yeah. “That man just entering the hotel comes in once a week to meet his wife and buy her high tea. She enjoys it very much. Afterward, they go to a room in a different hotel, because he can’t afford the tea and the room. Or maybe they go home, if they live nearby. He wears good suits, so you never know. He could be a government employee on a meager salary or a financier with money to burn. I don’t ask but I see the regular visitors and I wonder, sometimes make stuff up about them.” She licked her lips again. “I thought you came here to work.” “I look up from the computer screen sometimes.” He kissed her neck, licked the underside of her jaw, tasting the acrid flavor of her perfume. But he liked the light, elusive scent she wore. A new scent, to go with the new Jillian. If he had to choose between this and the Samsara she used to habitually wear—he couldn’t. “I used to watch, imagining that one day you’d walk through that door and come back into my life. And when you did, I wasn’t here. I was in a meeting.” She gave a shaky laugh. “They say if you watch it never happens.” “I never thought it would.” A tremor went through him when he recalled how close it had come to never happening. When he thought she was dead, he imagined his private life had died with her. Only she’d come back and woken him right up all over again. He shared his thoughts with her and she reached back to grip his thigh and stroke up, toward his erect cock. Shit, he couldn’t last long like this. He tore at his waistband and unzipped his fly, sighing in relief when his cock gained some ease. She did the rest, pulled at his shorts until they slid down his legs, enough to let his cock out to play. He saw the people down below, about thirty at a guess, the glass doors to the front of the hotel catching the afternoon sunlight and flashing as they opened and closed. The doormen turned to help customers in and out or to answer queries or to call cabs, brass buttons and gold piping gleaming. He palmed her buttock cheek, left bare by her thong. “You feel so hot. You want me?” When she opened her legs wider, he pushed her panties aside at the front. “They can see it all now. You, not naked but half-naked, erotic. Hold tight to that rail, sweetheart, because I’m coming in.” Bending at the knees, he came up from underneath, feeling her syrupy, thick wet heat enclose his sensitive cock head. “Open. Let everybody see.” If anyone could see from below, they’d have seen him forge inside her pussy, driving deep until his balls touched her ass, the cheeks enclosing him. He drew back and thrust. For a moment she flailed, until her free hand hit the brass rail and she gripped it tightly. Glancing down, he saw her knuckles turn white with strain. Below, a man in casual wear, slacks and a polo shirt lifted his gaze to check the time. His regard skimmed over them, went to the clock above and then back down again, pausing at Chase’s office window.

95

Lynne Connolly

Jillian went still and her fluid seeped over him. Her dreams, her imagination seared him, his mind going into overdrive when she infected him too. “Maybe he’s a Talent. Maybe he can sense us, he’s watching us, while I do this.” He gripped her breast, letting her nipple poke through the second and third fingers and pushed up hard, withdrawing almost all the way until he drove up again. The thin strip of material between her legs was soaked now with her juices and his, the pre-ejaculate that seeped out of him to lubricate his way. Not that she needed lubrication. They’d slide to the floor if she juiced any more. She cried out and the man scanned the rest of the area before he looked away and continued on his journey to the information desk. Chase sighed and glanced up, ready to come but not wanting to. Not yet. If he watched the people below much more he’d come for sure. “Chase, Chase…” Her voice trailed off but he felt her need through every part of his body. He adored this moment and he wanted to keep her there, keep them both there as long as he could. This time he wouldn’t last long. This encounter was hotter than the one before. Having her in front of the window, feeling her body vibrate to his fucking drove him to heights he found addictive. “Oh sweetheart, you are so perfect. So right.” He sent her his need and his heat and felt hers in return, rising to join him, to push them up higher than a dragon could fly, further than a vampire could flash. Nothing like it. Nothing like this. He felt his need rise, pushed up deep and hard, holding her steady against him and felt her quivers increase, the shivers rising until he joined her, shooting hard and high inside her body. He didn’t know which of them cried out first or how loudly but the hammering at the office door told him someone had heard. “It’s okay,” he managed to call back. “We’re okay.” Though he wasn’t at all sure about that. His hands went beside hers on the rail and hot liquid poured out of her body when he withdrew. Her and him. On that skirt. God, he hoped it would dry-clean because he wanted her in that prim skirt again. And again. When he thought his legs would hold him, he stood up, grimacing at the cramp momentarily seizing his knees before he regained control and then he swung her up into his arms and, after kicking out of his pants and underwear, strode across his office to his bathroom. She recovered when he had them under the warm shower spray and he reached for the body shampoo. She smiled up at him with a tenderness that took his breath away. “How do you do that?” “Do what?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Does it turn you on too?”

96

Red Heat

“Oh yeah, does it ever.” He kept his voice soft and poured gel into his palm, breathing in the minty scent of the brand he preferred. It wasn’t right for her, she deserved something light and fruity. He’d better make sure he got some because they’d be doing this again. She gave a weak chuckle. “I knew you wouldn’t switch the two-way off.” “Do you?” He put soapy fingers under her chin and tilted her head up. “Do you really?” A fraught moment when the only sound was the water hitting hard tile but she stared up at him, into his heart and mind. “Oh God.” Because she read the total conviction that if she’d needed it, he would have done it. “Something like that would ruin you. Get you all over the papers. Your family would never speak to you again.” His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I can only wish.” He rubbed soapy liquid over her stomach and moved up to cup and wash her breasts, lingering at the nipples. She couldn’t suppress her gasp when he trapped her slippery nipples between his first two fingers and caressed but she knew she’d come close to something Chase felt uncomfortable with. His family. When his father died, she’d guessed, inferred that the lack of emotion he felt troubled Chase. Now he felt the same—or rather didn’t feel—for his mother. She’d reared him, done her best for him but she hadn’t given him the same love as her parents had bestowed on her, as his father’s parents had bestowed on him. And that had been little enough. Although Jillian had lost her parents, she remembered them with love and still mourned her loss nine years later. She had a friendly, loving relationship with her other relatives. Although she couldn’t remember them precisely, she was now in touch with her feelings for them and the security that gave her. Chase had nothing like that. His caresses were making it hard for her to think, which she knew must be his objective. She didn’t care. She wouldn’t forget. At least she thought she wouldn’t. His lips close to hers but not touching, he whispered, “Don’t think. Just feel.” “I can do both, believe it or not.” “And walk at the same time or so I’m told.” His wry remark made her smile. “Sure I can do that too.” “Jillian, you’re my family now.” A pang of sadness hit her when he said that. “Your mother, your cousins…” “Social acquaintances and people who want to muscle in on the hotel business. I’m not into nepotism. Unless it involves you.” This time she didn’t resist his unspoken invitation but leaned up the scant breath that separated them to touch her mouth to his and feel his lips caress hers once more. Addicted, that was it. She couldn’t go for a day without wanting him. Would it ever stop, cool down? 97

Lynne Connolly

No. His voice in her mind seemed as natural as her own, as safe, as necessary. His tongue slid against hers in a seductive touch as his mind hummed in her head, stroking her, soothing her. Arousing her. Her instinctive rub against his wet chest raised an involuntary moan from her throat, straight into his mouth. His rumbling response reverberated through her and before she could withdraw to tease him some more, his arm snaked around her waist to pull her close. He lifted her and turned her until she backed on to the tiled ledge to one side of the shower and hoisted her up so her buttocks rested on its edge. That brought her feet off the ground and her body in alignment with his. With a sigh of surrender, she curled her legs around his waist. His cock felt hot against her skin and she knew she must be steaming. The slick head teased her, moved over her clit, once, twice and then a deeper plunge brought him inside her. Only then did his mouth leave hers to hungrily devour her skin, take little nips and sucks, just shy of marking her. “You’re all that matters, Jillian. When I thought I’d lost you I didn’t want to go on. I wanted to take back my virginity, become one of those pure, icy beings again. A virgin Sorcerer, one of the most powerful beings on earth.” He drew back to see her frown. “Hey, you can’t do that, not while we’re doing this.” He cupped her buttocks and pulled her up against him, driving inside her as far as he could go. She hooked her arms around his neck and clasped her hands together, afraid she might fall apart if he let her go. What had he just said? Oh yes, now she remembered. A virgin? She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. “Well you ain’t no fuckin’ virgin now,” adding a fake Texan twang, trying to make light of it while she thought out what she’d just heard. It worked. He smiled back. “Nope. Nor likely to be ever again.” He lifted her against the ledge again and worked her, moving in and out of her pussy in short jabs, stroking her sweet spot with every thrust. Jillian climbed high and fast, with a velocity that threw her into a spiking orgasm before she’d properly felt it coming. She yelled his name and bucked against him. He tightened his arms around her and stroked her, soothing her while he fucked her. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I don’t ever want to come out. I feel like I’m home when I’m inside you.” “So do I.” It was true. She belonged here or she felt like that right now. She had nowhere else, nothing else but him anymore. Realization shot through her. He groaned and took her in another kiss, so she pushed her revelation aside to deal with it later. Buried it deep. If he wanted to see it, he probably could but she knew Chase didn’t pry when he didn’t have to. He shied away from interfering. She guessed a lot of Sorcerers were like that. After their early years,

98

Red Heat

when they learned to control the way they could infiltrate every mind within a mile of them, they probably preferred not to push themselves in where they weren’t wanted. Good for her. Meanwhile, his short, deep strokes were driving her crazy again but worse was the way his hands worshipped her, gliding over her wet skin, the remnants of suds making friction nonexistent. It made him part of her, unthinkably close. His balls tightened and she knew he was heading for his own climax. She unclasped her hands, drew them from behind his head to slip down his body and cup his testicles, massaging them gently. “I want to feel you come,” she whispered, holding his very essence in her hands. “Anything you want,” he whispered back and gasped sharply. She didn’t push his climax harder, she caressed and reacted to him, waited for him to come while he pushed her toward her own. Her outer mind still connected to his, so she copied his actions and caressed him too, urging him to let go, give himself into her hands. With one hot murmur of “You…” he came. She felt sperm form, eject and then shoot deep inside her in a series of movements that thrilled her and pushed her to her own climax, arching in the safety of his arms, her cry coming from low in her throat. She had no idea how long she hung there in his arms before she sighed and unclasped her legs, sliding them down his until her toes touched the smooth tile under their feet. “Chase, don’t you have work to do?” He chuckled and kissed her. “Plenty. But before you came back to me I worked all the hours I had, so I figure I’m owed some down time.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “Should we go away somewhere? Would you like that?” “But—” Thoughts raced through her mind. The IRDC, the hotel… “None of that is important. Not next to your well-being. If you want us out of here, then we’ll go.” She didn’t. She was beginning to realize what she wanted but to think it through she’d have to get away from him or he’d pick up on her thoughts. She could tell when he was in her mind, like now, and how far he penetrated but it was unthinkable to push him away. She was all he had. He was all she had. She didn’t want them clinging to each other in desperation, so she had to do something. Get her life back or make a new one. “Do you think I’m in a lot of danger now?” He sucked in a breath. “They’re using you to get to me. If they get me, then no, probably not. I intend to show them that they have me.” He stepped directly under the flow of water, pulling her with him, and rinsed them both before shutting it off. She chuckled. “All that hot water.” “One of the benefits of living in a hotel.” “How many people live here?” 99

Lynne Connolly

He reached for a couple of towels from the heated rail outside the shower’s glass screen. “I do and there are rooms for the shift workers to use when they’re here but they don’t live here. One chef lives in but only because he prefers it to finding an apartment. Then we have a few residents, people who retain suites and live here more than they do anywhere else.” “Mega-rich.” “Yeah, those. Not too many people, when it comes down to it. Most of the staff don’t live in, they work shifts and go home when they’re done. Why?” “It just occurred to me. This building has a constant movement of people. You’re the only constant here.” “And the chef.” She laughed. “Yes and the chef.” He wrapped a towel around her and reached for another for her hair after tucking his own around his waist. “And the bodyguards. We have two on our floor. But they’re not hotel employees or guests. They’re STORM.” She met his carefully bland stare. “Yes, I guessed. I heard movement and it didn’t bother you, so I assumed someone was with us on floor thirteen. Who is it?” “For the duration of this operation, Johann Kozac and Ricardo Gianetti.” She huffed a laugh. “A vampire and a dragon shape-shifter. Just because you want me to feel safe.” He joined in her laughter. “It’s a new world, isn’t it?” Her laughter stopped as if she’d switched it off. “For me, it’s brand new.” He cupped her cheek in one big hand. “I know, sweetheart. When this is over, we will go away, take some time for ourselves. If you won’t go now, we’ll go later. I’ll introduce you to everything. We can talk properly.” It sounded perfect. For that reason alone she didn’t believe it would ever happen. Her world was completely blown away and the only way she could cope, for now at any rate, was to live in the present. So she’d believe it when it happened.

100

Red Heat

Chapter Ten Their gleaming silver Mercedes drew up to the curb, one from the company the Timothy group employed to ferry VIPs around. Now it held Chase and Jillian, ready for the meeting. And to face the public. Jillian couldn’t grow used to this constant barrage of press and photo-taking people. As they’d walked through the lobby of the hotel, several guests had taken pictures of them with their camera phones. But if she wanted to stay with Chase, it was part of his life. A big if. She still wasn’t sure. Part of her, the cowardly part, the little girl who shrank in a corner of what was left of her mind, wanted to run away, far away, settle down somewhere quiet and start again with a completely clean sheet. The other part, the angry element, wanted no part of whatever happened next, wanted to invade the building before them with tooth and claw and tear it asunder. But the majority, the piece that was unmistakably Jillian, wanted to stand by Chase’s side and take it all with him. Jillian had dressed that morning in a sharp black designer trouser suit and white silk blouse, wound her hair back in a smooth knot and prepared for battle. The first skirmish lay ahead. So she watched Chase get out of the car with an easy smile and hold his hand out to help her. She got out on the curb side and they walked toward the entrance. They never got there but then they didn’t expect to. Not right away. “Are you changing sides, Chase?” “Are you and Ms. Miller a permanent fixture?” “Are you really a Talent?” Chase took his time replying. “Yes, I’m a Talent but not a shape-shifter or a vampire or anything exotic like that. I’m a Sorcerer. We have genetically inherited psi gifts. But I’m as human as you or as human as the next vampire.” Jillian wondered if he ever got tired of answering the same questions over and over. She got her reply telepathically. Sick to my stomach of it. But some people need the repetition. We have to be patient until the world catches up with us. “Talents aren’t legally human, not yet,” someone said. “Yes, they are. Why should you assume that there’s only one species of human, when there are any number of different types of cats or insects?” A ripple of laughter rewarded him. Then they turned to Jillian. Probably thought her the weaker of the two. Chase had vast experience with the press, both for himself and sometimes for the guests at the hotel but she had very little. For that reason alone she might be the stronger, because she forced awareness of everything she said, every movement she made. “Ms. Miller, did you persuade Chase to come here?”

101

Lynne Connolly

She stared at the questioner and made eye contact with him before letting the corners of her mouth tilt in the faintest of smiles. “Chase does what he decides is best. I came with him because they asked and I agreed. That’s all.” “So does he intend to throw his weight behind the IRDC?” Chase laughed. “Are we taking sides now?” If only they knew. “No, we’re only visiting. I want to see this place for myself.” “Will you tell us? They won’t allow press farther than the lobby. Any more than they will inside the STORM building. What is it with you guys?” “We like our privacy.” He spun around and headed for the building, walking through the open door that opened at their approach, his hand gripping hers. “That,” he murmured, “was to show them that we are civilized and we want to talk.” After a day’s tortuous negotiations, here they were. No Ann, although she’d hated that she couldn’t come. They would face two of their counterparts. Since they had backup within contacting distance, they had to assume that the IRDC wouldn’t play it completely straight either. The first intimation came when Chase contacted Jillian telepathically. I’ve lost contact with Johann, Ricardo and Jack on the outside. We expected that. My cell phone should work. Technicians at STORM had fitted it with a two-way bugging device, together with their watches and the medallion suspended from the small gold necklace Jillian wore. Chase also had a tracking device implanted under his skin, something he would have removed afterward. Some agents wore them all the time but not Chase. He wasn’t lying when he told the media people outside that he liked his privacy. A contradiction with his preference for public sex but one that was essentially Chase. How can you still contact me? Strange how natural contacting him telepathically had become. They have sonic devices jamming telepathic connections that surround this building. But we communicate at a deeper level and we’re closer. Separate us and we might lose touch, but we have a higher chance of succeeding than most. His grip on her hand tightened. “Mr. Maynord and Ms…Miller?” The woman facing them used the delicate hesitation to indicate doubt. Because they thought she was Caroline Cross or they thought she thought it. The idea gave her a headache but she needed to hold on to the concept. “Will you come this way, please?” They took a spacious, carpeted elevator to the eleventh floor and then followed the woman to a closed door. “Do you own the whole building?” Chase asked, more for something to say rather than to gain knowledge they already had. Keep it comfortable, make them feel superior, give them easy questions they could answer. All basic negotiation techniques.

102

Red Heat

“We do.” The building used to belong to a large charitable organization but with the escalation in property values, even this side of the Brooklyn Bridge, the organization had sold out when the money was good. Jillian felt some satisfaction in knowing values had declined in recent months. They must be extremely wealthy to afford this complex, a series of buildings linked by underground tunnels or so rumor had it. Talents had amassed their money over generations. Had the IRDC? Did they have another name, another history? That had never occurred to Jillian before but Talents had always made enemies, some of them powerful in their own right. From what Chase had told her, his ancestors in Hungary produced kings and nobles but they had many enemies as powerful as they were. Presumably, every vampire, shape-shifter and anthro could say the same. She had little time to wonder and these days she didn’t trust her mind completely. She only hoped she’d remember it later. That there would be a later. Their guide opened the door to reveal an ordinary-looking boardroom, dominated by a large oak table. Two of the chairs held two men, both wearing dark suits and white shirts. Mr. Jones, she thought. Not quite. At least I hope not. The men stood and one of them spoke. “I’m Theo Papadakis and this is Christopher Collingwood.” They shook hands, all very civilized. Papadakis, the older man with thinning dark hair liberally sprinkled with gray, didn’t look like a villain. Neither did the taller, vaguely handsome Collingwood. A shame they didn’t wear black hats these days. Gray hats. Nothing is one thing or the other, nothing is definite. She nearly smiled at the wry amusement in his mental voice. Was it ever? Not as far as I know. Of course, Sorcerers had normal lifespans. Chase didn’t know any more than she did, not like the shape-shifters and vampires they now knew lived alongside them. “Please sit. Coffee?” They both refused it. It seemed ridiculous to imagine drugs in such a prosaic environment but they had to. The two IRDC men took coffee, and the fragrant aroma almost made Jillian wish she’d had some. Almost. But her throat was tight with tension and she didn’t think the caffeine would help her any right now. “I hope this is the start of many such meetings,” Papadakis said. He appeared quite sincere and so did Chase when he agreed with him. Papadakis indicated Jillian. “I see you’ve taken care of Ms. Cross. I take it we can use her real name in here?” Chase nodded wordlessly and the older man turned a sympathetic gaze to her. It made her want to slap him. “We had no idea what our man had done to her. When Talents decided to reveal themselves to the general public, we had to re-evaluate and assess our future plans.” He leaned back, never taking his gaze from Chase. His compatriot

103

Lynne Connolly

watched Jillian, making her feel like a bug under a microscope lens. So dispassionate she knew he was hiding strong emotions. Or had none at all, which seemed unlikely. Only Sorcerers could show that degree of iciness. She didn’t know either of these men. The people who’d trained her were conspicuous by their absence, she guessed on purpose. A new world, a new agreement, the IRDC man had said on the phone to Ann Reynolds the day before. It might be true. They might really want to reconcile. That was the only reason she’d allowed Chase and Jillian to walk in here today. The chance they could reduce their enemies or at least begin negotiations toward a mutual agreement. Papadakis put down his cup, half drunk. He seemed thirsty and after a glance at him, Collingwood grabbed the coffeepot and refilled his cup. Papadakis continued to speak. “We know what you are now, everyone does. We still want you to share your gifts, to try to benefit all mankind. That’s all we ever wanted.” Chase snorted. “Sure you did. So why instigate the inhumane treatment of the people you want to exploit?” The men exchanged a glance of disbelief. Diplomacy had obviously disappeared for the time being. Jillian knew that only extreme behavior would make Chase give that kind of response, so she began to understand the kind of inhumanity Chase meant. Inhumanity that had probably been used on her. For the first time, she grew thankful she couldn’t remember. “We saw it as a last resort, that the experiments would eventually benefit the whole of mankind,” Collingwood said, his voice gentle and reasoning. “It was an unavoidable necessity once Talents refused to help us. Do you think it fair that you will live for maybe five hundred years or more, when I can only look forward to eighty years, if I’m lucky?” Chase raised a brow. “I’m a Sorcerer. My lifespan is the same as yours. I accept it. I suggest you do too. It’s part of what you are, what I am.” Collingwood’s lip curled. “Very philosophical of you. But we want to help everyone.” “A big melting pot? Turn everyone into the same thing?” Chase’s sneer outdid Collingwood’s. “Not at all. We wish to give everyone the same benefits. But so far the illegality and the sheer secretiveness of Talents have hampered us. We had to obtain necessary equipment under pretense, could never share our findings openly in the scientific community.” Jillian found that too disingenuous. “If you shared, you wouldn’t make the profits. Do you mean this is a completely philanthropic organization?” Papadakis stared at her, his pale blue eyes open wide, his expression blatant disbelief. “Of course not. Our profits come from our legitimate experiments but if we pay the money for them, we should reap some of the benefits.”

104

Red Heat

Chase leaned back in his chair. “We also have our medical clinics and our doctors are constantly working to isolate and study what makes Talents the way they are.” The two men on the other side of the table exchanged another glance. “It was our understanding that those establishments were merely to treat Talents when they became ill or injured.” Papadakis ventured a smile. “After all, a regular surgeon wouldn’t be able to cope with the extra organ vampires possess to process the blood intake or a man shape-shifting to a dragon on the operating table.” “That’s what Cephalox is for. How do you think that came about?” Chase sighed. “You can’t operate on people or administer the correct drugs without a certain amount of research.” Papadakis glared, his ire obviously rising if the color in his face was any indication. “Then why didn’t you share the findings with us?” “The people who are the equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition to Talents?” Chase laughed. “Be realistic, at least.” Collingwood cleared his throat, drowning out whatever Papadakis was about to say. “We understand that and we’re not here to discuss what is in the past. It’s a new world now and we need to adapt to it. So we’re willing to compromise.” “In what way?” Chase shot back. “To give you some assurances, maybe some supervisory control.” Collingwood gave an easy smile. Jillian didn’t trust him an inch. “We could agree to curtail some of our activities and enter into a mutually profitable arrangement.” “With STORM?” Chase frowned. Papadakis answered before the smooth Collingwood could. “No. We can’t deal with them, not yet. Any more than they can deal with us.” Chase shrugged. “Ann Reynolds is ready to talk.” Papadakis’ mouth set in a thin line. “I bet she is.” Chase’s lips twitched but he held back whatever he was about to say. “We are having a civilized conversation, aren’t we?” he enquired mildly. “Yes of course.” Collingwood took control again. “Our proposal is that Timothy Enterprises comes in as a partner. That will give Talents the ingress into our organization but it doesn’t signify surrender by either side.” Chase humphed. “It might work. But you have to give Talents admission to every part of your laboratories. We want clear and open dealing.” “Would you agree to use Timothy Enterprises in this way?” “Maybe. I would have a separate subsection of the organization. The hotel group and the entertainment group would remain separate.” Jillian’s mouth nearly dropped open but she retained her sangfroid with an effort. “You’ll use your company for this? They could ruin you!”

105

Lynne Connolly

“By tainting the whole company? Yes, I know.” He pressed her hand and immediately withdrew to steeple his fingers under his chin. “That won’t happen. The principle is a reasonable one, to find middle ground. We need to stop these experiments and we need to move on. A bridge seems a practical start, a neutral organization where both sides can work out their grievances.” He took a deep breath. “So what do you intend to do about Bennett?” He’d dropped the name into the conversation with no preamble, so they had no time to prepare. Shock marked their faces, widened their eyes and made their jaws drop. Collingwood was the first to recover. Jillian would have put money on that. “Explain,” he said, his word snapped out as his previous smooth delivery was not. Chase unwound. She felt the tension in his mind decrease a tad, because he’d won a point. “Bennett is the bastard who did this to her.” He indicated Jillian with a slight gesture. “What would that be?” Chase glanced at her and if it hadn’t been for his presence in her mind, she would have believed his cold, blue eyes to be as uncaring as he indicated. “Turned her into a poor imitation of the woman I once loved.” To say that coldly in a room full of hostiles took so much guts Jillian caught her breath and forced it down to her diaphragm before she flung her arms around him and ruined the effect he wanted. The other two men shrugged and showed no indication that they knew the truth. Jillian knew Chase must be reading them, gauging their reactions, and they showed no sign that they knew. Even if trained to resist intrusion, as many IRDC staff were, Chase would be able to read them. He was a singularly powerful Sorcerer. They don’t know all the things he did to you. That confirms what I thought. You were Bennett’s personal project. If a man could mentally spit, Chase did it but outwardly he displayed his contempt by not so much as a twitch of his eyebrow. Chase didn’t say a word, staring across the table, his cold, pale eyes easily a match for Collingwood’s slightly darker ones. Collingwood cracked. “Ms. Cross is one of our agents, so when she was injured, we helped her invoke the health insurance with her job.” “So why was she rebuilt to look like Jillian Miller?” Collingwood sighed. “That was Bennett’s doing. But I did believe that she might get closer to you. Not to spy but to ask you to talk with us. As you are doing now.” Chase bared his teeth in a feral grin. “So I am. But it has nothing to do with Caroline.” At the same time as he spoke the name aloud, he said Jillian in her mind. The word warmed her as she’d never imagined a mere word could before. “I took her because I hadn’t had a woman for a while and she reminded me enough of Jillian to make it amusing. One or two things seem to have eluded your researchers. I was never as attached to Jillian as you appear to believe.” Papadakis raised a bushy brow. “I don’t think we got that part wrong. You showed every sign of devastation after the car accident.” 106

Red Heat

“So I did.” He shrugged. “She was a lively and beautiful woman. The manner of her death came as a great shock to everyone and so yes, I mourned her. But I wouldn’t call it devastation.” He lifted a brow. “And maybe it was good publicity too.” “It certainly didn’t hurt in the female stakes. I think you had a woman a week for a while afterward.” Hurt jolted through Jillian and she had to fight to retain her cool outward demeanor. Inside her head, Chase’s silence told her all she needed to know. But he’d thought she was dead, didn’t he? Still, the reminder didn’t stop the thought hurting her. Chase’s lips curled in a sensual smile. Still acting, at least she prayed he was. Then she heard him inside. For a while, all women were the same to me. They weren’t you, so what did it matter? Perversely, that made her feel better. It shouldn’t have done, because of all the women he used but it did. She couldn’t feel sorry for them. She didn’t know them. “It was three years ago,” Chase said. “I’m over it now.” He glanced at Jillian. “Thanks for sending me the substitute but you have to know I made her within two hours of her entering the hotel.” Jillian dropped her chin and stared into her lap. “I didn’t realize it was that soon.” “They gave you a good face.” “She needed it,” Collingwood said, with every sign of sympathy except, she suspected, the feeling. “The accident damaged her. We didn’t realize what Bennett had planned until he showed us. Then we went along with it. What else could we do?” “Give her her own face back?” “There wasn’t much of it left.” Collingwood looked at Jillian then. “Sorry but you know that, right?” She jerked a nod. “And now I have this.” She made a vague gesture at her face. The face she was born with, the one she still had, although for a while she’d thought it changed. Once Chase and STORM had re-introduced her to her real life, she’d felt more comfortable in her skin. Now she knew why. The IRDC had tried to force someone else’s personality on her and Chase had given her back herself. For that alone, she’d love him. Love him? Where had that come from? She’d tried to protect herself until she knew who she was, where she belonged but gradually Chase had slipped into her, cared for her, never taken her for granted. Shit, she was in deep. She hastily shoved her caring away as deeply as she could before Chase could detect it and read her. This wasn’t the time or the place, come to that. “But it brought you here,” Collingwood continued, determinedly bringing the conversation back on track. “That’s all we ever wanted. To sit down and talk. This is a new world and we have to learn to cope with it.” Chase regarded both of them steadily, one after the other, before he said anything. But his voice turned colder. “And you chose the wealthy one, the one with a mortal

107

Lynne Connolly

lifespan, the one most likely to sympathize with you. You want my money and the prestige my family has worked hard for. Don’t you?” Collingwood was too good a negotiator to deny it. Instead, he shrugged and spread his hands wide, palm up. “Wouldn’t you? Yes, to have the whole of the Timothy Group behind us would be great but we’re not taking sides now, are we? We have to come to an understanding. For both of us. The battle lines have changed.” “Have they?” For all Chase’s seeming nonchalance, Jillian felt the tension inside him. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself not to hold her breath. “You know they have. We have mutual enemies now.” “Do we now? This brave new world is only just finding its feet. You’re saying someone has found a moment to form some kind of evil masterminded organization?” Papadakis grunted a laugh. “Not quite. But you know as well as we do, some companies are employing Talents by the yard. As many as they can get. We don’t know what they want yet but we’re betting it’s not nine-to-five work they’re thinking about.” Chase didn’t hide his alarm. They must know STORM knew about this but Jillian didn’t. “Oh yeah. Private armies. The Blofelds of this world never go away, do they? So are they any worse than you?” “Of course they are.” Papadakis sounded pissed now. “We’re trying to benefit mankind. Okay, we’ll charge for the privilege but our aims have always been to provide a benefit. These people want to provide invincible armies. You’re not saying all Talents are angels, are you?” Chase gave a lazy smile, one that sent a curl of heat through Jillian. “As far as we know, we don’t have any angels. Although you never know, I guess. But no, Talents are human, with all that goes with it. Bad and good. So what can you do about that?” “Share information. Which is what we’re really here for, isn’t it?” “That and to stop your experiments on my kind.” Papadakis coughed and covered his mouth with his hand and at the same time a wave of dizziness assaulted Jillian. She’d breathed in too deeply. Chase’s head jerked around as he stared at her but she forced a smile. Collingwood leaned right back in his chair and closed his eyes. At the same time, Papadakis’ forehead hit the table. Chase got to his feet, his movement not his usual lithe swiftness but an erratic jumpiness as if each gesture was a huge effort to him. Jillian didn’t think she could even manage that. Too easy to close her eyes. No! She forced her eyes open, stared at Chase who was heading for the door. “Gas,” he mumbled. “Tasteless, odorless. Thought it might be in the coffee. Should have known.” Before he reached the door, it opened but Jillian had no time to breathe a sigh of relief before she saw the guns in the hands of the newcomers. They wore white filter masks, three men in suits. They must have come through the building. How did they expect to get out?

108

Red Heat

It seemed a singularly stupid way to die. But why gas them first, was it just to incapacitate them? It must be. One lifted his weapon and she saw each movement separately, as if they were a series of small, jerky jolts somehow strung together into one. He aimed it at her and she sat and watched him, wondering if she had enough energy left to push out of her chair onto the floor. Not that it would do much more than prolong her end by a couple of minutes. A heavy weight fell in front of her, falling awkwardly across the desk. Chase, trying to shield her with his body, had hurled himself across the room. Not enough. If she slid down now his body would probably protect her but if they killed him, she couldn’t see the point in doing it. Without Chase, she didn’t have anything. So it ended now. Jillian lifted her chin and stared at the masked man pointing his gun at her. She’d never looked down the barrel of a gun before. First and last time. An unnatural calm came over her, helping to center her, dissipating the effects of the gas. They locked eyes and she knew him but she didn’t know from where. She was still puzzling, waiting for the shot she would never hear, the one that would kill her when, as if in slow motion, her killer swung his gun around and fired. Into the head of Papadakis. Red blood blossomed over his skull, spreading as she watched, and the last sight she had was of blood so impossibly red it had to be arterial pumping from Collingwood’s neck, where the other man had shot him. Then the world swirled one last time and she dove into oblivion.

109

Lynne Connolly

Chapter Eleven Chase groaned and heard the sound in his throat and around wherever he was. Strange, he thought he’d be dead but unless he was mistaken, ghosts didn’t have throats and couldn’t feel like this. Fuck, pain sucked. Painful, head throbbing like a bitch, cool air occasionally washing over his body. That meant a fan overhead, though why they’d need a fan he wasn’t sure. Maybe oldfashioned air conditioning. A shame about the groan. He kept his eyes closed, knowing that if anyone watched him they were waiting for signs of consciousness, so he gave them none. Concentrated on keeping his breathing deep and steady, sent his senses out to his pulses to keep them on a calm, even beat. Only then did he send his senses further, letting his five basic senses tell him what they could and sending the psi sense out to feel any presences. He was bound, not with ropes but with something metallic. Cuffs, locked down to the bed he lay on. So this was a place used to restrain people on a regular basis. He was supine, the clamps at his wrists, biceps, ankles and waist keeping him in place and preventing any significant efforts at fighting back. The last he remembered, all four people in the room were overcome by gas. The air smelled vaguely metallic, no, something else. Something he couldn’t place yet. He wore something loose and light, something with no pants. It could be a sheet shrouding his body or a loose gown. He couldn’t tell without moving and he wasn’t about to do that, not yet. He concentrated on spreading his psi sense, ready to withdraw at the first indication that someone was there, because Papadakis had been right—not all Talents were on the side of the angels and it was unlikely they’d leave someone like him without a Talent nearby to guard him. Not only a Sorcerer and a powerful one but a trained agent. Two skills, both useful, both making him a formidable adversary. Nothing so far but he sensed the barriers around this room. The equivalent of a lockdown. He couldn’t move further than the walls of the room, couldn’t sense anyone inside it but he could feel the concentration of electricity. Monitors, not attached to him but two screens, high up, security almost certainly. They were probably recording him too. He wondered if the tag remained in place in his arm, since everything else was obviously gone. Yes. They might not have spotted it, since it was top of the range and shielded in case of scanning. Now he wished Jillian had one too.

110

Red Heat

Shit, when he thought of her name, his anxiety level ratcheted up too far for him to control. If they hadn’t realized he was awake before, they would now. Chase opened his eyes, blinking against the glare of light. A couple of bulbs hung directly above him, illuminating him for anyone who cared to see. The monitors would record it and he’d have company soon. So he couldn’t waste any more time. One hard jerk against the restraints told him he had no chance of freeing himself by force. He didn’t have the telekinesis strong enough to shift them either. Never the best of his psi senses. Telepathy, persuasion, as much as he could do without breaking the Talent law that forbade compulsion had always been his strongest suit. He’d never considered breaking that law before. Punishment was death, no appeals, to deter would-be megalomaniacs—and there had been some. But to save Jillian—yes, he’d do it. Decision made, he waited for the arrival of his captors. He spent the time learning the room, finding anything that he could use as a weapon, studying the exit routes. Although the window had a blind drawn down over it, at least the room had a window. Unless it was a dummy. They would have a guard or three outside the door, so he’d need something to help him, maybe more than his psi senses. Out there, they might have psi-resistants, people with mental shields so strong hardly anyone could penetrate them. He could. And he would but something like a bar liberated from this metal bed would help him to enforce his mental commands. He needed out of these cuffs. When the door opened on silent hinges, he turned his head to see who was coming in. He wasn’t entirely surprised to see Dr. Bennett. His figure was rounder than when Chase had seen him last and two people accompanied him. A burly assistant, his white coat filled out completely, the buttons straining at their holes, and the only person not wearing a clinician’s outfit—Jillian. He gazed at them, keeping his regard deliberately cold. He didn’t choose to begin the conversation. Bennett smoothed his palms over his coat and gave him an unctuous smile. “Who would have thought I’d have the great Chase Maynord in my clinic? How the mighty are fallen!” “Pleased to see you too,” Chase said dryly. “I’d shake your hand but mine are somewhat occupied right now.” Bennett licked his lips. When he started forward a lock of hair escaped from behind his ear, white, fluffy hair too long for him. Chase remembered the man with a combover. At least he didn’t do that anymore. But he didn’t like the balding ponytail look any better. Bennett ran his hot hand over Chase’s arm. “This will have to do.” “How do you expect to explain my absence?” “You won’t be missed for a day or two.” The stroking grew more deliberate and Chase realized the good doctor was raising a vein. The bastard. What he planned to stick in there didn’t bear thinking about. At least he wouldn’t do what he did to more 111

Lynne Connolly

resilient Talents. Ricardo Gianetti had suffered days of open veins, poison pumped through his system, even dissection while he was still conscious, all for research. That was why Talents would do anything to stop the IRDC. They wouldn’t do that to Chase, a man whose only power resided in his mind. Not if they wanted to keep him for a while. Maybe they wanted to administer a sedative, something to keep him docile while they released him for a while or maybe something more insidious. But they’d want to use his mind, experiment on it. With it. He held his shields firm and searched for Jillian, deep inside where they had their own private channel of communication. Nothing. Only a block, a rigid brick wall of resistance. He had taught her to do that, helped her to rebuild her formidable defenses after he’d broken the ones the IRDC had erected for her. Despite his rising despair, he held firm but he knew that if anyone could break him, she could. She gave him a smile, nothing more than friendly. “Hello, Chase. It seems that a fake Jillian can fool you after all. Call me Caroline.” He let his gaze flick over her form. “Hello, Jillian.” Chase knew utter despair. It sank into him, filled his being. If she betrayed him, if she was Caroline rather than Jillian, then he was wrong about everything and his Talent meant nothing, because it had let him down in the most fundamental way. He loved this woman, Caroline or Jillian, her name no longer mattered. Only what she was and what she’d given him. She tilted her head to one side in an un-Jillian-like gesture. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going home after this. You’ll never see me again, Chase.” “As long as you’re safe, sweetheart.” He felt the fissure and forced a probe through the wall but something, someone forced him out. No matter. He’d keep trying. “I’m perfectly safe. Have you ever known me not to be?” She walked around to his feet and touched his toe. “Is it this one that’s ticklish or this one?” She feathered the lightest of grazes against his other toe. He shuddered and she laughed. “Like having your toes sucked, don’t you, Chase? Or maybe somewhere a little higher?” He rewarded her with a slow smile. “You know I like that.” Did she? She’d never really been into sucking his toes but he was okay with that. She was so good at so many other things. For an instant, when she had her back to the cameras and turned away from him, he thought he saw a gleam in her eye, a warning or a pleading look, he couldn’t decide which. Not being able to contact her telepathically was a real bitch. To someone like him, highly trained, owning the Talent all his life, it was like going blind or deaf. He hadn’t realized how much he relied on it until this room deprived him of contact with anyone else and Jillian rejected him.

112

Red Heat

It hurt but he had no time to dwell on that now. He needed out of here. The room was either protected by silver, something that blocked many Talents, including his, or they were using the new sonic device that prevented communication, although the Talent remained intact, so it was probably the silver. He hoped for the former, because once he got out of this room he had a chance. Although a unit like this was likely protected throughout. He would use anything he could to escape, except one thing. Jillian. He wouldn’t hurt her. For the first time he began to doubt himself. She touched his ankle, sliding her hand over his bare skin, bringing the hospital gown with her, and she glanced up at him, her expression flirtatiously teasing. That was so wrong here and now. Jillian or Caroline, she had to know how much that look meant to him. With something akin to disbelief, he felt the beginning of an erection. Little chance of hiding it in this flimsy garment. Shit. He looked away. “You don’t want to? Or you don’t want me to?” Incredulity filled him when she slid her hand farther up his thigh, heading rapidly for his cock and balls. The tip of her longest finger grazed his balls and he flinched in reaction. “Don’t.” “Why not?” He choked on his laugh. “I enjoyed my time with you and I know Dr. Bennett will do me this favor.” She smiled at the doctor, as she’d smiled at him a moment before. “I did well, didn’t I, Doctor? Do I get my reward?” “Your reward is to continue as my agent. We paid for your expensive operations, Caroline. I even conducted some myself. That was reward enough.” She pouted. Chase blinked. Jillian never pouted. Perhaps Caroline did. He’d never know, because he’d never known her. “Doctor, I spent all this time with one of the sexiest men on the planet and he never let me close enough to get right into his mind. When he told me, I couldn’t believe it but you always suspected it, didn’t you?” Pandering to his arrogance. Brilliant. He was already trying to work out a plan using Bennett’s arrogance as a lever. So what if he had a similar arrogance himself? He knew Jillian or he thought he did but he had to admit that some of her behavior since she’d come back to him didn’t remind him of the old Jillian at all. When he’d taken her to the club, the old Jillian would have led him onto the stage, would have initiated sex there but this new woman showed a degree of reticence he’d never known before, even when he’d first taken her to the club. Jillian had led their play. And she had an annoying habit of sulking. He’d not seen that in this Jillian either. She might be an amalgam of Jillian and Caroline. Fuck, he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. And he hated waiting here for the cavalry to arrive in the forms of his colleagues. Perhaps they wouldn’t succeed in getting into the building. Jesus, he could go mad here. 113

Lynne Connolly

Especially with that soft, feminine hand tormenting him. She cupped his balls now, massaging them gently. He groaned and she laughed. So did the other men in the room. “Okay,” Bennett said. “I’ll give him the pre-op and you can play while he’s relaxing. Deflower him, Caroline. Fuck the virgin, pop his cherry. You’ll leave him powerless and I get the chance to see exactly what happens to the mind of a deflowered Sorcerer.” He glanced at Chase. “You hid that one very well. If it wasn’t for Caroline, we’d never have known you were a virgin.” Oh yeah. Clever girl! If he’d been a virgin, rape or loveless sex would remove every psi power he had. Virgin Sorcerers chose that path at puberty and became the strongest and coldest beings on the earth, with breathtaking psi powers most could only dream about. Their only chance of retaining their powers was to do it with love. That way they retained some powers and in time could rebuild them. So she’d told them he was a virgin. Not only had she fooled them, she’d given them a chance. And she hadn’t betrayed him. That, more than anything else, meant the world to him. Chase could do nothing to stop the big guy who walked forward, syringe in hand. Only a small syringe but fuck, it hurt going in. The liquid flushed through his blood, cold where it went in, soon warmed to his body temperature but the area around the site tingled. Jillian bit her lip. “I’d rather have him completely awake. But if you think he needs it, I guess…” She shrugged. “What was it?” “Just the usual pre-op med. Nothing sinister. It’ll make him nice and docile for you.” Bennett gave Chase a toothy grin. Chase breathed out in relief. He could combat a pre-op, no sweat. He handed Jillian another syringe, a larger one, although not as large as a general anesthetic one. “Pump that into him when you’re done, then come away. Talk to him. He should be relaxed enough to tell you a few more morsels while you’re doing him.” Chase knew Bennett was looking for fear in his eyes, so he gave him some. No harm in letting the bastard think he was in control. Which he was for now but he had no idea how strong Chase could be. Until he heard him tell Jillian about the pre-op med, he’d been prepared to make his move now but he’d rather get free first. He could move and project then. Once he and Jillian had fucked, Bennett would assume he was helpless. The power left the virgin Sorcerer at the moment of ejaculation. Virgins couldn’t even masturbate, they couldn’t come. So they could pleasure a woman, but not pleasure themselves. That took a fucking unbelievable amount of concentration and control. Ejaculation killed all psi powers. Those who retained powers, after sex with a person they loved and who loved them, needed time to rechannel and retrain and those who had lost them were— lost. All the Sorcerers raped, or those who took part in one-sided love affairs, suffered the total destruction of psi powers once a Sorcerer had chosen the course of the virgin. Chase tested the psi restraints again. They still held.

114

Red Heat

His enemies had forgotten that he could operate perfectly well within this room and his plan had involved attacking them all before they left. The inhibitor worked for anyone outside. It was a cage, one he couldn’t escape from in his present state using his psi powers, although brute force might work. But he could destroy anyone within this room. The trouble was, he didn’t know how many stood outside on guard. He wondered why they hadn’t bound him in silver too but maybe this room was meant for a lesser Talent. No, that wasn’t it. Silver could prove expensive, more than hardened steel manacles that could be bought off the shelf if you knew where to look. Bennett must be on a budget. He’d bet the good doctor hated that. Not that it helped him. A vampire could break out of these shackles once his powers had come in after sunset, a shape-shifter could partially shift and get free but he had no chance. Another Sorcerer with strong telekinetic powers could do it. Shit, he was going in circles now. Just like that hand tracing patterns on his balls and lower cock, now painfully erect despite his efforts to ignore it. He could have ignored anyone else. Not Jillian. Never Jillian. He watched the men leave the room. Regret filled him when he knew he couldn’t touch them now, not until they returned. “Don’t you mind them watching us?” he said, keeping his voice as low and steady as he could. At her “No,” he turned his head and met her gaze. And saw the woman he thought he knew. She stood where no one else could see her and her eyes revealed worry and fear. And the spark of arousal. That last he couldn’t understand. Here and now was so wrong. But Jillian didn’t think so, it seemed. She undid the first button on her blouse. Did he understand? Did he know what she planned to do? With her heart beating double-time, she knew she had to take this chance. It was the only one she had. The Talents outside would be trying to come in to find them but armed resistance in the center of New York wasn’t the best solution. And they’d killed Collingwood and Papadakis. The building might be in lockdown. She needed to get him out of those cuffs. Solid metal cuffs bound his arms in two places, his ankles and his waist. If she could free his hands, he had a chance. She wouldn’t leave him, whatever happened. They’d expected some kind of double-dealing from Bennett but not this, not until they’d sat down with Collingwood and Papadakis and realized how far Bennett had fallen in the IRDC’s disfavor. The organization was ready to sacrifice him for the greater good, that much had become clear, but Bennett had pre-empted them. She’d worked with him, or rather, worked for him, so she knew him and she knew his greatest weakness. She’d play to that. He was so arrogant it never crossed his mind for a moment that his operations and conditioning had failed, that someone else had broken through the conditioning he’d been so careful to set up in her mind. 115

Lynne Connolly

Jillian—she must think of herself as Caroline now—fought hard not to swallow and reveal her nervousness. The sensitive outside the room wasn’t allergic to the silver that bound Chase here and he was monitoring her every thought. Except for that tiny part she’d retained for herself. But while he was in the room, she couldn’t open that. He would have spotted it in an instant. She slipped the second button out of its hole and then the third and fourth before pulling the blouse back to reveal her sheer bra. Peach colored, it enhanced her breasts, gently lifted them on fine wire supports to push them out for her lover. Even bound and in danger he was aroused. She saw the physical evidence. Her skirt came off quicker than the blouse and Chase licked his lips. “Better hurry, sweetheart. I can feel that drug taking me over.” She prayed Bennett had told her the truth and what Chase had coursing through his system was no more than a mild sedative. The syringe she’d put in the dish on the small bedside table would hold something stronger or even something lethal. It would be typical of Bennett to trick her into killing him or destroying part of his mind. Maybe Bennett wanted to examine Chase’s mind after he died and she would kill him immediately after sex, when his powers had only just left him. Bennett was a sick bastard. Her hands trembled when she undid the clasp on her bra. The action of putting her hands behind her back pushed her breasts forward, so she took her time, aiming them at him like twin weapons when her bra straps fell down her shoulders and her breasts slid free of confinement. Chase groaned. “Don’t do this, Jillian.” “Caroline,” she said aloud and at the same time, released that tiny part of herself that she’d managed to retain from the sensitive’s invasion of her mind. She prayed her hastily erected barrier would hold. Crude compared to Chase’s delicate invasions, so clever and arousing. Speaking of which, his arousal strained against the thin fabric that was all he wore. The base was exposed, the balls free of the pale blue cotton and a spot of dampness on the material revealed where pre-ejaculate had escaped. She licked her lips. She wanted to taste it. “They’ll be watching us, Caroline.” Nothing new, she nearly retorted but this was so different to their other encounters, teasing and performing, that it didn’t compare at all. This time she felt scared and desperately worried. She had to get that feeling back if she was going to do this. She had to take control. In his cuffs, he could hardly help her. Except to maintain his erection. “You’ll take everything from me, Caroline. I won’t be able to help you when STORM finds out.” “I have other people to protect me.” She smiled and slid out of her panties. She only wore her holdups now, sheer slivers of black silk with teasing lacy tops. 116

Red Heat

Lifting one leg, she propped her foot on the bed and began to roll the first one down. “Like it? You may as well just lie back and enjoy this, Chase, because you can’t stop it. Or are you going to go all limp on me?” The stocking off, she balanced on one foot and stretched out her other, touching his fabric-clad cock with her toes. She wriggled them before sliding her foot off the bed and lifting the other. Since she couldn’t give him such a good view of her pussy this time, she rolled the stocking off that leg somewhat faster and then put her foot down, putting the stockings on the side of the bed where she could retrieve them. They might act as ties or even garrotes later. If she could get the bastards back in the room. Chase, it’s me. She suppressed her sigh of relief when he replied. Yes. So what are you going to do now? Have sex with you. Make love to you. She wanted him to know that however and whenever they did it, it was always love. And try to get you free. I might have to be a bit inventive. They’re probably filming this. Yeah. And I hope we get hold of the film before it hits the Internet. Can’t be helped, Chase. Will it ruin your reputation? Well, it will prove once and for all that I’m no virgin. You clever woman, I love you for that. When they come back in, I’ll paralyze them. How many more outside? She climbed onto the bed and straddled his legs, leaning back to display the wet inner folds of her pussy. She couldn’t help it—whenever she thought of Chase, she soaked her panties. When she saw him like this, erect and wanting, the wetness turned into more, her body readied itself for him. She wanted him now. She’d always want him. Two guards. The big guy, Ike, is a sensitive, probably a Sorcerer though officially he’s not said that. It might put him in the range of Talent and he might find himself on the table, I guess. But he’s into my mind, every part of it except this one little bit. I can’t keep it open for long. She reached down and spread her pussy lips, smiling invitingly. “Like what you see? At least you’ll go out with a smile on your face.” Chase lifted his gaze and met her eyes. “I guess I will.” I can. If you let me, I can build a barrier that guy will never break. Please. I’m holding it myself, I don’t know how strong it is. He’s watching, so I hope I’ve distracted him enough with this. She slid a finger over her slick crease, working down to her opening then back up to her clit, circling it, gathering liquid, proof of her essence. She faced one of the cameras, the one over his bed, pointing down at them, so any watchers could see everything she was doing. You’d distract a saint like that. Or a virgin Sorcerer. Chase went to work, visualizing and then building a barrier stronger than any he’d built before, then he built another, just inside it. She was right, it was only a small space, enough to hold the telepathy to communicate with and little else. He wanted to give her strength, make the bond between them too powerful for anyone to break but he couldn’t. He had to hope she

117

Lynne Connolly

had the strength to maintain the connection and to break it off when he told her to. Because she’d have to go before he destroyed the others or she’d be caught in the fallout. Make them jealous, sweetheart. Make them want you. While he worked, pushing that small space inside her head in tiny increments, pausing to sense any disturbance, she teased. She drew that wet finger up her body, lingering at her navel, leaving a wet trail behind that mesmerized him and stopped to smear what remained on her finger over her nipple, now crinkled tight. She pinched the nipple between thumb and forefinger, letting the tip swell and bud for him. “Bet you never tasted a woman.” Chase licked his lips as if he could taste her already. “No.” She leaned over him and presented her nipple to his lips. Chase couldn’t stand any more. She was driving him crazy here. While he tried to keep his mind clear, do the work he could, her teasing melted him, aroused him, made his cock as hard as iron. If she didn’t fuck him soon, he wouldn’t be responsible for his next actions. He’d take anything he could get. He sucked her nipple into his mouth and curled his tongue around the tip, teasing it in the way he knew she loved. She rewarded him with a low moan and she pushed her breast farther into his mouth. He loved the sensation of being filled completely with her soft flesh but he wanted more. And she wanted him to concentrate? He forced his consciousness away from her, pushing into her mind, continuing to grow it until it became large enough to work with. Almost immediately he got a voice. Not Jillian’s but still one he recognized. Shit, where are you, man? Manacled to a table in a lab. Ricardo’s mental voice reverberated in shock, blended with disgust. Ah, fuck, why did they have to do that? The building’s in lockdown, they said something had happened but they won’t say what. We’ve seen cops go in and the press is agog but they don’t know any more than we do. The trace in your arm still intact? Yup. Good. It seems to be working. When we’re in, we’ll find you. Chase rapidly brought Ricardo up to date but Jillian shocked him by joining in. Presenting her other breast to him, her mind sounded slightly breathless, if that made sense, when she replied. They killed Papadakis and Collingwood, the men we were talking with. They pumped gas into the room, knocked us out but I saw the other two shot before I passed out. Chase didn’t see it. Jesus! Chase reverberated with shock, almost forgetting whose luscious body pressed over his. But it held him anchored, her warm flesh cushioning his shock and the implications of the news. So they can accuse us of murder.

118

Red Heat

We’ll deal with that later, if it happens. So far, nada. Ricardo’s voice took on a new tone. Meantime, let’s get you out of there. I’ve got someone with me, a Sorcerer who is high on the telekinesis scale. Let her work on the cuffs for you. Her name’s Vanessa. Immediately, a new voice sounded. Hi. Let me through, please. Chase knew it had to be a Sorcerer from the icy cold tones and the clear communication, something very few non-Sorcerers achieved on first contact. Feel free. Anything you can do I’d appreciate. My TK sucks. Excuse me if I put my attention elsewhere. He couldn’t resist Jillian’s allure any longer. His hunger for her never abated, never stopped. When he’d had her, he wanted her again and any time he spent away from her, he felt itchy. That would pass, once he had her out of danger. At least he thought it would. He didn’t much care if it didn’t. Sit up, sweetheart. Staring up at her, he drank in her smooth skin, the rosy nipples, now crinkled tight with desire and wet from his mouth, her beautifully indented navel, one he could spend hours exploring. Take me. A slow smile wreathed her face. They couldn’t have their usual private telepathic conversation, not with the small space available in her mind but he didn’t need telepathy to read the sensuous intent in her eyes or the wet readiness of her body. She lifted and hovered just above his cock. He watched her, unable to hide his need for her. And the door opened to admit Bennett and his bulky henchman, the sensitive. Shit. He had to reassure her. It’s okay. You keep the barrier intact, I’ll keep working. “I just wanted to see this moment,” Bennett said. “A virgin Sorcerer losing his virginity.” He lifted a camera. Chase would allow it but that was all. He’d make sure to get that thing later. He heard Ricardo’s fury and had to work hard to keep the knowledge out of his eyes. “I don’t lose my powers until I ejaculate,” he found himself saying. “Can you be sure she’ll do that for me? Sorcerers are trained not to lose it.” Bennett smirked. “You love this one. Don’t even bother to deny it. She’ll get you.” Chase felt the familiar warmth of psi working but it wasn’t him. Vanessa worked through him, directing her energy through his body, down his arms to the cuffs. She needed to assess them first but she’d established the link now. Jillian sank down on his cock and Chase wanted to howl in a mixture of need and delight. As it was, he couldn’t suppress a grunt of satisfaction and his head tilted up when his back muscles tightened to brace himself for her entry. He cried out and Bennett grunted a laugh. The camera clicked. Chase gritted his teeth against his instinctive urge to hurl a blast of mental destruction at the two men currently enjoying his predicament. It would have melted the bastards’ minds. But that would have spoiled the surprise. And maybe, if the guards outside were alerted too soon, cost them both their lives.

119

Lynne Connolly

He turned his attention to the woman sitting atop him, enclosing his cock in burning heat. He ached to hold her, to caress that soft skin, to feel her response, but he couldn’t. “This is—different.” She bared her teeth at him. “Different is one word for it. And yes, I bet it’s different—for you. How long do you think you’ll hold out?” Her taunting elicited a soft chuckle from him. She pretended anger and lifted up to slam back down on him. He gave a sharp “Ach!” sound and managed, “Bring it on, sweetheart. I’ve had a lot of practice not ejaculating. And that’s the only thing that can hurt me. Make me come.” She laughed. “Oh I will. You won’t last. I’ll make sure of it.” You’d better. It’s going to take at least five minutes to get these off you. The icy voice cut through the sexual haze Jillian built in him. Damn, she made it hard to concentrate on anything but her. He had to prepare to go into action the minute they got the word. If they could free him. But he felt the power of this woman, even through the small link and he knew he had a virgin Sorcerer in his mind. He’d felt that power before, once. He linked with Ricardo. So tell me about the plan. I’ll try to free you without it being obvious. Hargreaves and Kozac and a couple from Vanessa’s team are finding an entrance and when they’re in, we’ll give the word. Do you know where we are? A delicious twisting plunge nearly made him lose it but he held on—barely. When they got out of here, he’d make sure to get his own back on Jillian. Torture her all night until she cried for more. Then he’d give it to her. The thought made him groan. We know where you aren’t. Hargreaves found some plans of the building and we’ve crossed off everywhere but a couple of suites. You have to be in one of those. The tracker will do the rest. What’s happening in the rest of the IRDC building? It’s in lockdown. Nobody in, nobody out, except the police and we’re monitoring them. Jack Hargreaves and Johann Kozac would find a way in. Even into a building in lockdown. If they had someone from another team with them, that meant they might have the services of another winged shape-shifter. Ricardo was a dragon shape-shifter. It wouldn’t hurt to have help from another. Kozac would have nothing but his telepathy, since it couldn’t be dark yet and as a vampire, his powers wouldn’t come in until sunset but Hargreaves was a cat shape-shifter. “I want plenty of penetration shots.” Bennett’s voice, dead and cold. “This man has amazing powers of the mind but in a moment, he’ll lose them all. I want plenty of evidence why and how, before we take the experiment to the next stage.” “Cold-hearted fucking bastard.” Chase spoke without wasting too much emotion on the man but it needed saying. “On the contrary. What I’m doing will benefit thousands of people—millions. I’m sure this is the key for great mental powers.” Chase frowned. Something was different here. This lack of emotion was something he’d expect from a scientist but when he’d met Bennett before, he’d had an edge of

120

Red Heat

something he, a non-scientist, would have labeled The Crazy. A demented edge. That seemed absent now. Maybe he’d gone back on his meds, whatever they were. Jillian contacted him. Are you okay? More than okay, sweetheart. You enjoying this? Are you kidding? She bit her lip and he would have given his right nut to sit up and take it between his own, stroke it with his tongue and take her in a thorough kiss. Her inner voice softened. Chase, I must be going crazy because this feels wonderful. Every time we make love it feels better. Even here, even now, this is amazing. If you’re crazy, then I’m certifiably insane. This is better than wonderful. Ironic, considering what he’d just been thinking about. The camera snapped steadily. He ignored it. He’d have it in his hands soon enough. But the tease made him hotter, made him want to perform, show her off, make people see what he saw in her. Always have to go one better? He suppressed his smile at her teasing words. Not always. One day I’ll show you. All the time she moved rhythmically on him, seducing him with her body, her juices flowing over and around him. His balls tightened. Come when you need to. We don’t have to tell them. He couldn’t hide anything from her anymore. He didn’t want to. Catching his lower lip between his teeth, he bit lightly, enough to give himself a pinch of pain, not enough to draw blood. But if he used it much more, he would bite it for sure. Right through, if she did any more of those swiveling, sideways movements that meant his cock came into contact with every part of her pussy. He’d explode for sure. Liquid seeped between them. She was as turned-on as he was. They shared a smile, a completely private one before her eyes widened and she looked away. They were supposed to be enemies. He was supposed to hate what she was doing. The problem was, when he tried to fight, he didn’t want to hurt her and even with most of his body shackled, he might still buck her off and throw her to the floor. As if she knew his thoughts, all of them, even the ones he was accustomed to keeping to himself, she leaned forward and braced her hands on the bed. Right next to his arm cuffs. Clever girl! She could hold the fastenings down for him if Vanessa got them loose. Wait until they heard the word. “Kiss him, Caroline.” Bennett’s words sounded like an instruction, not the kind of hot, breathy encouragement that would get him off. But it did anyway or maybe it was the sight of Jillian’s luscious breasts swaying close to his chest, then mashing against him in a press of hot flesh. The first touch of her lips against his had his libido rising so high he knew he couldn’t stop himself much longer. Would thinking of cold oatmeal help? Not if you were in it. Jesus, did everything lead back to her? Yep, it pretty much did. But he took control of her lips, opening his own against them, encouraging her to open

121

Lynne Connolly

hers and let him in. When she did, he ravaged her mouth, taking possession, sweeping his tongue around her mouth, caressing her teeth, the sensitive flesh. He stroked her tongue with his, telling her what he couldn’t tell her with his body. A low male grunt told him the sensitive had picked up the sensation and he withdrew in shock. He’d never lost control of his telepathy like that, never. He stared into her eyes, saw concern and love and groaned. He was lost. All the time the camera snapped. “Stay there until he ejaculates. I want pictures of him the minute that happens. Get his eyes and his body, I want it all.” The sensitive spoke in a deep bass. “Won’t the video cameras get all that?” “I don’t want anything forgotten. This is the first chance I’ve had to study this particular phenomenon and I want it recorded.” Chase found it increasingly difficult to hide his feelings for the woman currently fucking him blind, her body never ceasing in its movements, taking him higher with each stroke. “You do know that if a Sorcerer loves the woman he has sex with—if he makes love, he has a high chance of retaining his powers?” “But she doesn’t love you. And you don’t really love her, not now you know the truth. You’ve never done this before and the emotion is getting to you. That’s all. She’s raping you, Maynord.” The words continued relentlessly, Vanessa channeled his mind to use her telekinesis and the sensitive took pictures. But all he cared about was Jillian. It didn’t stop Bennett spewing his filth. “This isn’t Jillian Miller, Maynord. It’s Caroline Cross. She was always one of our agents, trained by me, and this is the biggest operation of her life. She begged for this assignment, so I set up the accident and operated on her. I do good work, don’t I? Caroline had a good body, very like Jillian’s so that didn’t take much. And we saved parts in case we needed them later.” Dear God, he couldn’t listen to much more. He didn’t have to. Bennett wanted to goad him so he wouldn’t feel he was making love to Jillian but nothing could change that. He blocked Bennett, the man who was almost spitting in his efforts to tell him about the woman he thought she was. It didn’t matter. None of it. As long as he could get both of them out of there alive. But it obviously mattered to Jillian. Her lower lip trembled against his and she pulled back. He tried to tell her with his eyes but he couldn’t use his mind because Vanessa took it all. She needed it. All he could do was stare up at this woman and try to love her. He wanted to fill her with his seed, make her his, give her everything he could. The thought drove him up the last extra notch and his libido surged. But they’d see his balls tighten and lift in this position. He couldn’t do it and he couldn’t push her away. “Sit up.” He tried to make his voice hard and cold, though he knew he hadn’t entirely succeeded. He thought of the people taking pictures of them and succeeded. “Get off me, bitch.”

122

Red Heat

She leaned back, shock ringing her eyes before she closed them. She did as he told her and sat up but she lifted high and slammed down on him, forcing his cock deep, deep inside. He nearly howled as he came and at the same time felt a burst of heat in his wrists. For a second he was so caught in the throes of ecstasy that the meaning escaped him but a similar heat in his ankles, around his waist and his upper arms reminded him of the shackles. Now he could take her in his arms, thank her and get her the fuck out of here. “Very nice. You can give him the injection now, Jillian.” He’d forgotten that. She had a weapon. She grabbed the syringe and held it up, the clear contents glistening in the bright lights above their heads. Wait! Vanessa had read him and reminded him. He groaned. How long? Any minute. They’re in. Get out of that room and start broadcasting. Vanessa withdrew, knowing what he planned to do. He couldn’t have her in his mind while he did this. He pushed Jillian out and released a mental bolt. The sensitive didn’t stand a chance. He dropped like a stone, his heavy body hitting the hard floor with a crash that would have shaken a less resilient surface. He dropped the camera, which fell to the floor and smashed, bursting open on impact. He focused a blast of heat on the pieces just to make sure the images were completely gone and then lifted his head. His cock still semi-erect, glistening with Jillian’s juices, his body sheened in sweat from a bout of lovemaking, he couldn’t imagine that he looked anything less than laughable. Or maybe not. Bennett’s mouth dropped open. “You still love her? Residual energy? Tell me!” “I wasn’t a virgin when I entered this room.” “But my intel…” His voice faded away when Chase slid off the table and he grabbed for the alarm button on the wall. Chase got there first. He stared down at Bennett, showing the filthy bastard how much he despised his experiments, his manipulations and his disgusting operations. Bennett stared back. “Share your gifts and we wouldn’t have to do this.” “You don’t have to do it anyway. To anyone but you I’d say ‘talk to us’ but you’re way beyond that, aren’t you? You have your own agenda that only agrees with your employers at certain points. What is it, Bennett? What do you really want?” Bennett’s already thin mouth thinned some more as a rictus of fury rippled over it. “You can’t win. This building’s on lockdown.” “So I understand.” Bennett’s attention flicked from him to where Jillian stood by the table, then he looked back at Chase. “How?”

123

Lynne Connolly

Chase gave a slow smile. “Don’t you know? I’m surprised. I thought you knew everything about Talents.” He wouldn’t tell him that not all Talents were allergic to silver. Bennett might not know that. A commotion outside made him smile because he knew exactly what it was. He’d heard it before. A series of thumps told him how many men his team had to drop before they could open the door. He grabbed the sheet off the bed and made to throw it to Jillian but she’d flung on her outer clothes while he’d confronted Bennett. The door burst open and a world of sensation entered. His mind registered the presence of four Talents and Ricardo stood in the doorway, a grin spreading over his face. “Glad to see you.” “Yeah, you too.” He dropped the sheet. “I think we should take this joker back with us. It’s not as if the IRDC want him.” Ricardo shrugged, an elegant quiver of his broad shoulders. “They might. But there’s no harm subjecting him to a little gentle questioning, is there?” His smile held no humor. “I’d like to give him a little of his own.” He crossed the room and grabbed Bennett’s shoulders. The man kept his attention on the floor, showing no emotion, no reaction. Chase guessed he was deliberately hiding it but he didn’t want to sully his mind by entering the cesspit of Bennett right now. He might have to do it sometime soon if Ann wanted him in on the examination but right now he had the choice and he chose to concentrate on Jillian and the healing she brought to his soul. Chase had taken part in more than one interrogation in the bad old days, when Talents hid from sight and faced their enemies unseen. “They’ll make us do it by the book.” “Sure.” Ricardo didn’t look convinced. He jerked his thumb toward the door. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” With a steely glance at Chase, Bennett followed Ricardo. He might even welcome a visit to STORM. Who knew what he might discover? He’d be disappointed when he found a boring office block, the good stuff well out of sight. Much like this building, come to that. Ricardo reached a hand behind him and took a pair of navy blue pants, which he threw to Chase. “You don’t want everybody to see your natural beauty, do you?” “I don’t care.” But he climbed into the pants, which were long enough but too wide and tightened the plastic belt. They were made of some scratchy artificial fabric, like cheap uniforms. His suspicions of their origin were confirmed when he moved to the door and saw the three men slumped on the floor. One was pantsless. He turned away, not caring if they lived or were already dead, only that he had escaped that hellish room and brought Jillian with him. He held out his hand and felt hers slip into it. Her instinctive acceptance warmed him like nothing else could in this terrible place and spread, encompassing his heart, reminding him why he’d acted with such brutality in the room they’d just left. He wanted to destroy it, torch it or better still, blow it up, so

124

Red Heat

that nobody else would ever lie there, helpless and angry, while someone missing their humanity made notes and observed them dispassionately. “So we get out of here?” Ricardo nodded. “You do. We’re staying for,” he consulted his watch, “fifteen minutes to grab some hard drives and get more of a handle on things. And if we can’t remove it, destroy the evidence of your captivity here. But we gotta be discreet, Reynolds says, so nobody realizes we’re still gathering intel. We’re supposed to be working toward a truce. Pah!” His mouth worked as if he would spit but he didn’t. Too good an operator to leave unnecessary DNA behind. As if hearing his unspoken thought, he dragged a pair of surgical gloves out of his pocket and pulled them on. He nodded to Hargreaves, Team Red’s researcher, and one of the others, a tall man Chase recognized as a British shape-shifter he hadn’t seen in a while. “Fourteen minutes and counting.” He and Hargreaves went into a room nearby. The other man nodded to them. “Let’s get going.” His gaze hardened when he confronted Bennett. “And you.” Chase nodded back and flashed a grin. “I appreciate it. What you doing here in New York, Daniel?” Daniel Orrison grimaced. “Special duties.” He growled. He glanced at Jillian and Chase became aware that he, along with the rest of the team, were being very careful where they looked. They’d probably gotten an eyeful but he was grateful that they were ensuring nobody else did. At the end of the hallway, a bank of elevators confronted them and a door beyond with a sign that indicated the emergency exit lay beyond. Stairs, in other words. Chase jabbed both buttons on the elevators. “Up or down?” “Up. Downstairs is swarming with security.” “So how come we’re not?” Daniel grinned. “They’ll be here soon. We blocked the elevators and set a few obstacles across the stairs two floors down. So come on. We go up.” Chase hardly noticed the five double flights that they had to take to get to the roof but three flights up he realized Jillian was struggling, although trying not to show it, and he swung her into his arms, ignoring her protests. He stopped her mouth with a swift kiss. “You did everything up to now. I plan to exhaust you some more later, so shut the fuck up and let’s get going.” She relaxed, blushing. He adored that blush and now he’d come to a few conclusions about her, he realized he hadn’t seen that before on the old Jillian. He followed Daniel, trailed by a flagging Bennett, but he couldn’t see Daniel picking the scientist up. He kicked at the man’s heels. “Get moving.” It was enough to urge Bennett to put on a weak spurt of speed. Daniel shoved a heavy door open, the crash of metal lost in the atmosphere above them. Chase took a deep breath of fresh air, glad to get out of the building that, for a few minutes at least, he feared never leaving again. 125

Lynne Connolly

“Come on.” Daniel rapidly stripped out of his loose-fitting jeans and t-shirt. He wore no underwear. Jillian’s blush returned and Chase chuckled. “He’s a griffin shapeshifter. Shifters are used to nudity.” “Also,” Daniel said wryly, “of losing a lot of clothes. I left an Armani suit behind once. Never got it back.” Jillian had heard of shape-shifters, even seen film of them in the last few months but she hadn’t entirely believed in them. Not only did shape-shifters change their form, from human to animal or bird and back again, they turned into creatures of myth. She’d read a few stories about werewolves but they were the real creatures of myth. Dragons, griffins and other fantastic creatures existed. Even the jaguar shape-shifters were creatures of myth, jaguar-gods rather than jungle cats. And she’d thought the sight of one changing would be grotesque, unnatural but when Daniel Orrison did it, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Fur formed over his skin, while his limbs changed shape, like a mist passing over his body to replace it with another mist that revealed lion’s paws where feet existed before and a thick layer of golden feathers to replace Daniel’s head of dark gold hair. His eyes remained the same glowing tawny but changed in shape, the iris filling the eye with color and the pupil becoming dark and larger, while his nose elongated to a sharp, cruel beak. And then, wonder of wonders, he grew wings. Large, scaly golden-orange wings, with touches of darker color at the tips. He dropped onto all fours, hooked claws at the front, lion’s pads at the back. His voice in her mind came clear and just like his vocal tones. Climb aboard. A commotion from behind them made Chase’s head whip around and he lost himself for a moment. “They’ve broken through your barriers. The others are on their way. Ricardo will take care of it. Let’s go and leave the space clear for him.” He helped her climb up onto the broad, furred back of the griffin. Of Daniel. Chase turned to Bennett, standing staring at the magnificent creature before them. “Now you.” Chase’s voice hardened when he spoke to the scientist. Bennett backed up. “No, not me.” “Come on, we don’t have time to waste. Want me to pick you up?” Chase’s mouth twisted in a mocking smile. “No. Throw me off the top of the building if you like but I’m not getting on that thing.” “What’s wrong? Prejudiced?” Bennett shook his head. “Nope. Heights. Kill me now, because I’m not getting up there.” Leave him. Daniel’s voice came through commandingly. The others can deal with it. We have to get away and leave them the rooftop, otherwise we could be fucked here.

126

Red Heat

Chase stared at Bennett and shook his head. There was nowhere to go but off the roof or down the stairs and either way, he was a prisoner. He climbed up after Jillian and curved his arms around her waist. “Hold tight,” he said, “or you’ll have both of us off.” I’ll fuzz, Daniel said. No need, Chase reminded him. Let’s confuse things. I’ll fuzz. In any case, I’m not out yet. Okay, if you want to. Jillian felt a strange dizziness, not from the height or the altitude but the effect of what Daniel called fuzzing. Before she could open her mouth to ask, Chase was there, answering her. Nobody will see us. Or rather, they’ll see something ordinary, an eagle, maybe, or a small light aircraft. Then dizziness did hit her when Chase dropped off the building. She worked hard not to clutch at Chase’s hands where they linked over her stomach. Daniel’s wings were long, heavily feathered and he swooped them up and down to their full extension. Her stomach lurched when the downbeat pushed them up and over the level of all but the highest buildings. Daniel took an even course then and shallower wing beats, leveling off almost like a plane but it felt like no plane on earth. A warm body under her legs, soft with fur and edged with feathers where the lion’s body gave way to the eagle’s. In fact, he didn’t seem an amalgam of two different creatures but a new and different one, something that could be described as a mixture by someone who hadn’t seen a griffin before. The sudden peace after the noise and disruption of the past few hours sent Jillian into an almost dreamy state. She leaned against Chase and savored the sensation of relaxing in his arms, warm and safe. This could be dangerous. Nothing dangerous about it. This is how it’s going to be from now on. So was his habit of reading her thoughts. That will come too. Soon it’ll be two-way. I’ll teach you how to structure your mind. A sharp needle of reminder pierced her. She still didn’t know who she was exactly or where she belonged. She might not ever know, unless STORM could persuade Bennett to tell them. If it’s my mind. It’s yours now. He sounded tranquil, as she could not. But she sighed and leaned against him. Who knew when she’d enjoy a quiet moment again?

127

Lynne Connolly

Chapter Twelve Jillian slowly became aware of daylight. She stretched and yawned, rolling over in the big bed, wondering where Chase could be. She checked the clock. She’d almost slept the clock ‘round. No wonder Chase had left, probably on hotel business but it didn’t stop her missing him. Debriefing at STORM headquarters had taken forever but Ann Reynolds grilled Chase far more than she did Jillian. After one glance at her ashen face, Ann had ordered coffee and food and hadn’t asked her many questions. Chase stayed close all the time, cradling her tenderly. She probably dozed off a few times. But she still couldn’t remember clearly Chase bringing her home, taking her with him into the shower and putting her to bed. Only dim memories remained. Her adrenaline surge had given way to utter exhaustion and a numb acceptance of what had happened and what was to come. The events of the previous day hit her like a slap in the face. And the implications. She reached for the remote and switched on the TV, rapidly flicking through the stations until she found a news channel reporting the lockdown at IRDC headquarters. “Nobody except the police has been allowed access to the floors and while we still have no official confirmation, it seems that two representatives from STORM entered the building in the afternoon and two IRDC officials are now dead. We don’t know any more than that. An unofficial source told us that the building came under attack and two Talents escaped from the roof with several STORM agents on board. The Talents were flying creatures and while one was a dragon, we have no confirmation of the other.” She watched footage of Ricardo in his other form as the dragon leaving the building. Less than a year ago, that sight would have been unthinkable or put down to a film company and special effects or a publicity stunt. Now people knew dragons existed. Videos taken by shaky camera phones appeared on the Internet and the TV every day but repetition didn’t slake the public’s voracious appetite for more. This time several figures could be seen on the back of the great animal. Jillian felt more than glad that Daniel had fuzzed, so they had left without the cameras taking advantage of them. She already knew one figure was absent. Bennett had gotten away. In the few minutes between their exit and the next team’s arrival, he’d found somewhere to hide. He was probably back with the IRDC now. Bastard. Chase should have killed him while he had the chance but he was probably more valuable to Ann Reynolds alive than dead. Not that she had him now.

128

Red Heat

Ann had been tight-lipped, debriefing Chase quickly and sending them home. No doubt the questioning had gone on long into the night but she was home in bed by then. She threw back the sheets and headed to the shower, wondering when this apartment had become home.

***** Half an hour later, showered and dressed, Jillian went into the kitchen and found herself something to eat. Oat cereal and coffee seemed the best idea, something plain to settle her slightly wayward stomach. Feeling much better, she grabbed her keycard and went in search of Chase. Every time she saw him it came like a jolt to her stomach, ratcheting her senses in anticipation of his kiss and his touch. She found him in the vast kitchens, discussing a menu with the chef. He looked up at her approach and she felt his gentle presence in her mind. It made her feel complete. He reached up his hand to take hers when she walked closer and pressed a kiss to the palm but his attention remained with the chef. She could wait. “This looks good,” she said, indicating a dish the two men were frowning over. Chase made a noncommittal sound. “We’re wondering if we can get a better supply of shitake mushrooms for it. Our current suppliers are screwing us over.” For Chase, this was a normal day. After the disruptions of yesterday, Jillian hoped for more of the same. But she wanted something else too. She wanted a life of her own. She couldn’t have it yet, she knew that, not until Bennett was neutralized but that might be soon. Ann was making it a requirement of continuing talks that they give the man up. He’d committed too many crimes already. Before he’d gone into IRDC headquarters, he’d run a sleep clinic at the prestigious John McIver University. That had gone to shit when STORM had exposed his little game but he was as much a nuisance as he’d ever been. They had to put a stop to his activities. Then Jillian planned to find her own life again. It wouldn’t mean leaving Chase, just finding what she was, what she wanted and maybe who she was. Chase nodded to the chef and stood, taking her hand firmly in his and leading her away. “Time for coffee, I think. My office okay with you?” She smiled, hiding all her qualms, but he saw it. He stopped right there in the middle of the busy kitchen and cupped her chin in his hand, staring into her eyes. She stared back, mesmerized by his fathomless blue stare. “What is it?” he said. “I’ll tell you when we’re upstairs. I want to tell you, I don’t want you to read it.” He nodded and turned to walk away. She felt the warmth of his fingers on her face all the way up to his office. By the time they reached it, all she wanted to do was kiss him but knowing how much danger lay that way, she backed off.

129

Lynne Connolly

His PA brought coffee and they stood in silence until she left. Neither made a move toward the tray she’d brought in. It rested on the coffee table between them. Chase leaned against his desk, she faced him, arms folded, standing before the large, squashy sofa. “Hey. Tell me, Jillian.” Chase shoved his hands in his pockets. She nodded, a sharp jerk of her head. “I don’t know who I am, Chase. I don’t know how much memory I’ll recover or if that memory’s mine. You’ve all been dancing around me, you, Ann, your team but I’m not so stupid I can’t work it out for myself. Bennett made me something else, didn’t he? Either I’m Jillian in Caroline’s body or the other way around. I’m not Jillian, am I? I’ve changed.” She swallowed. She didn’t want to say the next part, so she let him speak. “No, you’re not the same Jillian. But that’s Jillian’s body in my arms at night, her glorious skin, her scent, her taste. It’s you. I know you, that’s why they didn’t dare send a substitute.” “How am I different?” He smiled. She wished he wouldn’t. “She lost her temper more often, wouldn’t listen to reason.” “She didn’t hesitate as much as I do, did she?” He shook his head. “You can’t count that. You’ve been through a massive trauma. Jillian or Caroline, that’s normal for what you’ve suffered.” “How else?” “Jillian would put her head in a noose if she thought someone didn’t want her to. Stubborn. And her clothes—jeans and T-shirts all the time. Your taste runs to the classic, a little more formal. You even do your makeup differently and you wear it more than Jillian did.” “Anything else?” He paused and ran his tongue over his lower lip. “You let me run the show. Sex, sweetheart. Before, you always wanted to name the scenario, where we played, what we did. For what it’s worth, I love our new sex life. You’re still not irritatingly reticent but you let me control sometimes. I really like that.” She turned to one side, unable to hide her embarrassment. “I didn’t know those things were possible. I didn’t know,” she turned back, “I didn’t know I’d enjoy them.” He strode to her, taking the sidestep necessary to circumvent the low table between them. When she backed off, he caught her hands and drew her close but his touch remained gentle and his embrace tender. “That part makes me your slave, darling. It’s like you never played those games before and yet you’re fearless once you know I’m with you. Do you know what a turn-on that is?” “Even yesterday?” He groaned. “That was a kicker. Yes, even yesterday. That persuaded me you could do what you wanted to me anytime, anyplace, anywhere.”

130

Red Heat

“So it’s the sex?” “What’s wrong with that?” She opened her mouth to speak but a knock sounded on the door. She tried to pull back but his grip on her tightened and she relaxed, knowing she couldn’t break his hold and finding a strange satisfaction in it. Chase’s PA entered but she didn’t have time to say anything. Two men in outdoor wear, overcoats over suits, strode past her, one older, his face gaunt with experience, the other younger, just as hard. “Useful,” the older man said. “Both in the same place. Chase Maynord, I’m arresting you for the murder of John Papadakis. You don’t have to say anything…” The younger man said the same thing to Jillian, drawing her hands behind her back. When he saw that, Chase tried to jerk out of the hold of his captor. “Leave her alone. She’s been through enough.” “It’s okay, Chase. He’s not hurting me.” Chase spoke over the Miranda drone. “Don’t say anything, Jillian. Not a word. I’ll contact Ann and we’ll go from there.” He wrenched out of the hold of the older man and spun around to confront him. “You want to take me out of my own hotel in handcuffs?” The older man shrugged. “It’s the law and I don’t know you.” Chase sighed. “You know the media are outside, don’t you?” “Yeah, we had to fight through them. We’ll have to fight out as well.” “We’ll handle it,” the younger man said. “We won’t fight you. Just don’t put the handcuffs on.” The younger man stared at Chase skeptically. “And you want us to believe you?” “Listen, I’m Chase Maynord. What chance do I have of getting away? And you have to know I won’t leave Jillian. We didn’t do this thing, so why should we want to?” The older man stepped forward and behind Chase, clipping a set of cuffs on his wrists. Chase sighed and shrugged. “Take them off. If I have to go like this, I’ll fight. If you release us, we’ll come with you.” The older cop exchanged a weary glance with the younger. “Let them go.” “Thanks.” The cuffs clicked off with an ease that spoke of frequent use. Jillian’s initial shock had left her, replaced by numb acceptance. She’d half expected it. After all, the IRDC were no friends of STORM. Perhaps she’d be part of a court case that set a precedent of sorts for Talents. She didn’t much care, she found. Chase’s words before the cops entered the room had given her more than enough to think about and all she had to do now was tell the truth.

131

Lynne Connolly

No, he’d told her to keep quiet. “We’ll be out soon, Jillian. Ann will call and we’ll make bail. Don’t worry.” As they left the hotel, flanked by the two men, the media surged forward but the cops held them off easily, pushing through the mob. Jillian smiled at the sight of their dusty car with one of the hotel’s smartly dressed valets at the wheel. He got out and opened the door for them, ushering Chase and Jillian inside as if it were the swishest Rolls Royce available. She exchanged a glance with the valet and although he didn’t grin, his eyes sparkled. He’d probably never seen his boss in such a beat-up vehicle before. Don’t be too sure about that. Chase reached out and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her palm. It’s going to be okay. What about a lawyer? STORM will see about that too. Just say nothing, okay? Don’t let them fool you into saying anything. We’ll be home in a few hours. A pause. I’m sorry. About what? Taking you into the IRDC building, not seeing the trap, getting involved in that mess later. She didn’t have any patience with that. You couldn’t have done it without me. They wanted me to bring you in. Do you know why? Oh yes. They wanted your money and your prestige. Precisely. The money that still intimidated her, made her feel helpless in the sheer welter of it. She’d seen some clothes with very expensive labels in the closet she used but she’d never worn them. It didn’t feel right and the styling was somehow off, wrong for her. Now she understood. Those clothes belonged to the pre-accident Jillian, the one with the confidence to order and buy them, the one with a life of her own. And they weren’t clothes she’d choose either. Not to her taste, at least not now. Her mood didn’t improve when the cops escorted her into the starkly bare room with chairs and tables and the large two-way mirror. She didn’t know why they bothered. Why not put a window there and be done with it? She sat and refused their offer of refreshments. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered they could get DNA from a trashed paper cup or soda bottle. Not that she cared. She’d be interested in the results but she didn’t want anything to remind her of this miserable experience. They left her alone while, presumably, they questioned Chase. She leaned her head back against the uncomfortable ridged back of the plastic chair and tried to rest, waiting for them and wondering what the real experience was like. Not unlike the more realistic TV programs about the NYPD, as it turned out. The officers who’d arrested them entered the room and one took a seat behind her, the other 132

Red Heat

hovered behind. They introduced themselves as O’Hara and McAndrew. It crossed Jillian’s mind to wonder what Bunny, who by Chase’s account revered the Scottish, would make of the tousled, slightly grubby McAndrew. His face bore deeply graven lines but she doubted it was from Highland winds. “Ms. Miller—may I call you Jillian?” She shrugged. “You were in the room yesterday when Nicolaides Papadakis and John Collingwood died?” She stared at him but didn’t indicate any kind of an answer. She’d let them go on for a while, until she felt pressured, then she’d call for a lawyer. McAndrew pushed a hand through his thinning gray hair. “We know you entered the building, thanks to the TV interviews outside. You went in to meet with the two men who died. We got that from the guestbook your—Mr. Maynord signed when you went in. So why don’t you fill us in on what happened next?” She stared back. Silence filled the room, oppressive and thick. Jillian closed her eyes and leaned back once more. O’Hara cleared his throat. She ignored him. McAndrew tried something a little more forceful. “We’re not done here.” She was. “Get me a lawyer.” Tired, she wanted to go back to bed, read a book, take a long bath, anything to stop thinking for a while. Not this. When they left, she didn’t bother to open her eyes and surprisingly actually dozed off for a while. The door opening startled her back to awareness. She groaned as she lifted her head, needing that bath more than ever. A cramp in her neck twinged painfully as she sat up. A man in what she was coming to recognize as a tailor-made suit, who carried a calfskin briefcase, entered the room, followed closely by O’Hara and McAndrew. “I’m Mr. Maynord’s personal lawyer. And yours. My name is Solokov. Are you content with my services?” That last sentence sounded quaintly old-fashioned enough to make her smile. Before she could censor her words she asked, “You’re a Talent?” And bit her lip. It was still bad manners to ask outright. Talents never asked, they searched the other’s mind for the small sigil that identified them and their Talent. But without Chase, she couldn’t do that. Solokov didn’t look annoyed. He smiled and dragged a chair from the side of the room to sit next to her. “Sure. I’m a vampire.” The sharp intake of breath came from O’Hara, the younger cop. McAndrew looked to be near retirement age and she guessed little surprised him these days. She smiled at him. “And a lawyer. What a combination.” He chuckled. “You wouldn’t be the first person to say that.” But his smile disappeared when he watched the two cops warily taking their seats across from them. “Gentlemen, we don’t have any more business.” Jillian stared at him. “We don’t?”

133

Lynne Connolly

“No. The IRDC extracted the security tapes from your meeting. It clearly shows everyone in the room, including you and Mr. Maynord, overcome by some kind of gas before two other men entered and killed Collingwood and Papadakis.” “We’re waiting for confirmation of the tape,” McAndrew informed her. “We also have a witness who confirms the two men were seen in the hallway outside the room shortly before the murders. Add to that the lack of GSR on your clothes—gunshot residue,” the lawyer explained at her quizzical look, “and I think you’ll be on your way home within the hour.” “We’d appreciate your help,” McAndrew said. “Anything you can remember. We still have a double murder to investigate. Any idea why?” She glanced at Solokov and he nodded. At the same time she felt his intrusion into her mind. It felt different to Chase’s gentle, more intimate invasion, less tender, more businesslike in a way. A memory shook her deep inside. She’d done this before, met and greeted Talents in that way. But she couldn’t remember where or when. Just recognized the sensation. Solokov was a vampire, his sigil a family rune. Nothing of the emotional and temperamental persona reputed of vampires showed on the surface, from the neat black suit and white shirt combo to the calm expression on his face. She acknowledged it as best she could and he gave a sharp nod and glanced down at the slim buff file he’d laid on the table. How much do I tell them? she asked. Everything. Tell them about Bennett and that he’s a renegade. It won’t do any harm to have the police hunting him down as well as STORM. So she did. Even the sex but she didn’t go into details and the two cops didn’t react in a way that would have made her even more uncomfortable. She could only give a vague description of the men who’d done the murders but she thought she’d know them again if she saw them. McAndrew shoved a couple of photos across the desk. “Anything like these two?” “Exactly like them. Yes, those are the men I saw killing Collingwood and Papadakis.” Although she couldn’t see any marks on the headshots McAndrew showed her, it was obvious the men were dead. Pale faces, a lack of expression, closed eyes and their supine position, laid out on a white bench or table, all indicated that. She shoved the pictures away. She’d seen enough death in the last day or two to last her a lifetime. McAndrew sighed heavily. “Yeah. We found them in a piece of wasteland downtown. Dumped. Bennett is on the run. We contacted the IRDC and their representatives seem as keen to get hold of him as Ann Reynolds is.” He leaned forward. “But if we hear of anybody withholding evidence, we’ll bring you right in. Clear?” Jillian nodded. She glanced at the mirror, behind which no doubt other people watched her and noted her dull complexion and the heavy shadows under her eyes. She wasn’t surprised. It would take more than one good night’s sleep to restore her but her 134

Red Heat

heart sank even more. She would have liked to be beautiful for Chase. Stupid to think of that at this time but the thought crossed her mind without her consciously thinking about it. “Any idea where he might have gone?” That was getting too close to the things she didn’t want them to know. How the IRDC had taken her, used her—she caught her breath and tried to turn it into a cough. “Not a clue.” She met McAndrew’s cynical stare. “Truly.” “But you worked there for a while, didn’t you?” That was the cover story then. Solokov confirmed it for her. If they learn all your history, it won’t stay secret for long. They’ll call me a freak. Along with the rest of us. It gave her some insight into the way the press was treating the phenomenon of Talents. She’d sympathized with them—now she could empathize. If the knowledge of Bennett’s diabolical operations on her came to light, she’d be labeled a freak, followed by gossip magazines because of who she was with, derision poked at both of them. Talents must live with that every day now. That was just sick. She began to understand why they preferred to stay hidden and why some decided to remain hidden, even now that the world knew such creatures—people—existed. Solokov continued to brief her. Not by one look or gesture did he indicate he was communicating with her telepathically. She admired his aplomb. We’re saying you worked for Bennett at the IRDC headquarters. You left when you learned about his activities and went to Chase. You’d broken up before but this brought you back together. That sounded reasonable and explained her break-up with Chase and her reunion with him. She sent a brief acceptance to Solokov and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. “I can give you the home address and phone number for Dr. Bennett but little else, I’m afraid. I never went to his home, I only worked for him.” “In what capacity?” She shrugged. “Office administrator.” “Why did you do that? Weren’t you a successful jewelry designer?” She allowed her mouth to straighten in a grimace of pain. “After the car accident I was in rehab for a long time.” True enough, as far as it went. “I couldn’t use my hands properly, at least not well enough to do fine craft work. But I needed a job.” “You don’t need one now.” That hurt and hit a spot Jillian knew she’d have to think about more. However rich Chase was, she wouldn’t freeload off him forever. If she had to become an office administrator for real, she’d do it. But now she smiled. “That isn’t part of the discussion.” “Didn’t they say you were dead after the accident?”

135

Lynne Connolly

“Just an admin error. The woman I was with looked a little like me and our belongings got snarled up in the accident.” O’Hara took a part in the conversation now. He gave her a slow, hot once-over but she didn’t show, by look or body language, that she noticed. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “So why didn’t Chase Maynord rush to your side once the mistake got straightened out?” “We broke up just before the accident. I told the hospital staff not to contact him.” She grimaced. “I’m not into pity.” O’Hara smiled, a dark smile that promised much. Not that she’d take him up on it. But it was probably part of the act. “So you went your own way.” “Yeah. But I went to him when I realized what Bennett was up to and I agreed to be a liaison between the IRDC and STORM. The meeting was going well before—before it was disrupted.” “Sure it was.” McAndrew got to his feet, scraping his chair back. He crossed the room to the water dispenser, leaving his partner staring at Jillian. His look became more blatantly sexual, skimming over her body and lingering at her breasts. For someone who enjoyed the performance and showing off her body, Jillian felt very uncomfortable. Maybe the new Jillian didn’t enjoy it so much. Or maybe this man pushed her buttons. She didn’t want him. Next to Chase all men were pretty much the same to her, so she stared back at him and raised a brow. He gave her a slow, sensual smile. Abruptly she broke the contact but he spoke. “Did you have a boyfriend in the last three years, Jillian?” She didn’t lodge an objection to him using her first name. That would have been prissy. “Not your business,” she snapped. “Do you think you’re a highly sexed person?” She felt her temper rise but Solokov instantly made his presence felt. They have nothing to go on so they’re trying to rile you and see what happens. Don’t give him the satisfaction of responding. That small warning gave her the respite she needed. So instead of bursting into an infuriated tirade, she shrugged. “I’d say that was none of your business but for your information, no, nobody special.” “Holding a torch for Maynord?” “Hey,” said McAndrew from his station by the water dispenser. “Who could blame her? The guy is rich, good-looking, best contacts you can get, all doors open for him. Ain’t that right, Jillian?” “I think,” Solokov put in, his voice dropping into the space like a lump of ice, “we will stop that line of questioning. Ms. Miller has nothing else to say. You can ask your questions about the case and I’ll consult with her before she makes an answer.” He nodded at her and she leaned back, glad to say no more.

136

Red Heat

She stonewalled most of the cops’ questions about herself but she answered the ones about Bennett. They might as well pool their resources. The more people after him, the faster they’d catch him. Half an hour later they left and a grim-faced Chase met her outside the interview rooms. He took her arm and led her outside to where a sleek black limo waited, its windows blacked out. They ignored the throng of media people outside. Microphones shoved into her face until Chase pushed one back, careful not to make the gesture too violent. That would get them into the top news reports of the day for sure if he started a fight. They withdrew with such alacrity Jillian suspected Chase of using his Talent. You think I’d let them do that to you? He sounded firm, angry but not with her. Jillian just felt tired. He curved his arm around her waist and helped her into the car. He didn’t let her go once they were inside but pulled her against him, tucking her into his body. She didn’t resist. Exhaustion pulled at her and his body provided shelter and warmth as well as the gentle, simmering excitement that always affected her when he was near. He murmured soothing words to her and she felt herself drifting. They drove around the back, slowly forging a passage through the photographers gathered even here and into the underground parking lot, where security prevented anyone following. When they exited the car, they heard dim shouts from the entrance but Chase led her to the elevator and they rode it to the thirteenth floor. The scent of furniture polish and fresh, clean air was something Jillian would always connect with this place, together with Chase’s warm, masculine smell. His aftershave, a delicate, light fragrance, didn’t obscure the scent of hot male under the immaculate clothes and the cool façade he wore. She loved him so much. Chase undressed her and took her into the shower, letting the hot water beat down on them both while he held her up and massaged fruit-scented gel over her body. Jillian began to recover and placed her hands flat on his chest. Just because she could and because it gave her so much pleasure. But the soft touches weren’t enough. She wanted him. “I think we’re done for today,” he murmured as he reached past her to touch the buttons that stopped the water flow. “Let’s go to bed.” It sounded good to Jillian. She loved it when he babied her but she wanted more. Confirmation or a chance to show him what he meant to her. She had no idea when she’d fallen in love with him but she had. All over again. Unable to remember the first time, this felt new to her. But she wouldn’t tell him, not yet. Not until she worked out what she planned to do with the rest of her life.

137

Lynne Connolly

Because she couldn’t love here, a decoration to a powerful man, she just couldn’t. She needed to make her life mean something for herself. Maybe she could still make jewelry, she didn’t know. Now she had Chase and she wanted him, so badly. If he’d tried to walk away she would have begged but he knew what she needed. “You don’t have to ask, Jillian. You never have to ask.” She tilted her chin, a trace of her sassiness returning. “Maybe one day it might be fun to ask.” She deliberately invoked an image of the restaurant downstairs and her wantonly begging him, top pulled down to reveal her bare breasts, button-front skirt undone to reveal her wet pussy. He choked and brought his mouth down on hers in a passionate kiss of taking. One day I’ll make it happen. If I have to close the whole hotel for a day and get the building to ourselves, that is so going to happen. He lifted his head and his voice softened. “But now something more gentle, for both of us. Let’s have some kindness and consolation before we have to think about tomorrow.” Before they had to think again. Tomorrow, as someone once said, was another day.

138

Red Heat

Chapter Thirteen If anyone had told Jillian she would be sick of living in the lap of luxury before she’d entered the Timothy, she would have laughed in their faces. But now, after a week of recovery and inaction, she was heartily tired of it. Hotel business had claimed much of Chase’s attention. Although he spent every minute he could with her, several matters had come up at the same time and he spent the week working with the new consultancy team he’d employed and adding his personal touch to several other concerns. In a way, that came as a relief for Jillian, a chance for her to think things through. Already she knew she couldn’t live like this forever. Living in idle luxury didn’t suit her one bit. But she had to remain in the hotel until the authorities had some lead about Bennett—where he’d fled to, what his plans were and most of all, how to apprehend him. Chase agreed to continue to work with the IRDC with specific aims in mind. They had to effect some kind of reconciliation if Talents weren’t to live in constant fear of the organization. Like most commercial enterprises, the IRDC wanted profit and its owners weren’t much concerned with how they got it. If they had to operate under ethical circumstances, then they would, although the extreme members would continue to oppose Talents and try to exploit them. That morning Chase had the call from Ann. The coast was clear for them to leave the hotel and start living like ordinary people. Bennett had gone and teams from the law enforcement agencies were hunting him down. He’d been seen in Seattle, so Ann dispatched Team Red there, except for Chase, who was the liaison with the IRDC for now. Much though he hated it. She would go shopping or maybe just walk on the park and savor her freedom. Chase had given her a credit card and a kiss that morning, so she could do as she pleased. She’d insisted on her freedom, now that the immediate danger had gone. No bodyguards, no restrictions but she knew Chase worried and he’d probably send someone to follow her at a distance. She’d accept that for his sake and pretend not to notice. She got as far as the foyer when she saw someone she knew. Bunny. Her heart sinking, she crossed the marble expanse to greet her. To her surprise, Bunny forced a smile. “Have you a moment?” Jillian decided to indulge her and they went to the hotel lounge, where they ordered coffee. She sat in a large, squashy sofa and Bunny sat next to her and crossed her perfectly hosed slim legs. Today in classic pink Chanel, Bunny was, as usual,

139

Lynne Connolly

immaculate. She touched the pearls at her neck and Jillian saw a faint tremble before she dropped them into her lap. “You are, it seems, a fixture in my son’s life.” Jillian wasn’t so sure but she didn’t say so. Any indication of weakness and Bunny would pounce like a hunting tiger. “It seems so.” Bunny stared at her, her gaze going from Jillian’s sneakered feet to her smooth but unfastened hair. Jillian had dressed for comfort and obscurity, not wanting to stand out, so she’d found a pair of black pants and a T-shirt, with a heavy black jacket against the autumn chill that had only arrived in town a couple of days before. She slipped off the jacket and felt Bunny’s displeasure at her appearance. “If you’re going to be here for some time, we’ll have to smarten you up. I know you won’t mind if I’m honest with you, it will save a lot of time later. So I’ll take you shopping, introduce you to the people you’ll need to know. I have an excellent personal shopper at Bergdorf Goodman and you will need more exclusive clothes for premieres and charity events. Maybe I’ll take you to Paris for the collections. I think Dior would suit you or maybe Gaultier.” She narrowed her eyes assessingly. Jillian felt like a commodity. “What do you expect my life to be?” “I expect Chase to propose to you.” Bunny sighed. “If you become a Maynord, certain standards are mandatory. I would assume you wish to become a credit to him and uphold the family? Yes, of course you do and we must plan for it. A good wardrobe is essential and since some will undoubtedly have to be designer, it’s best we start early, in preparation for Christmas.” “But that’s months away!” A wave of an elegant, diamond-adorned hand was her answer. “It will be here soon enough and the round of social engagements is always heavy at that time of year. Make no mistake, I still disapprove of your liaison with my son but I have decided to make the most of it instead of withdrawing from him. That will make affairs easier for you both.” So was she supposed to be grateful? Bunny proceeded to outline a lifestyle that made Jillian’s blood run cold. Charity auctions and balls, social events, befriending the right people, museum and art gallery showings, theater and opera first nights… Oh she’d love to attend some of those events but to make it into her life’s work? Fuck no. Even if she updated it to include clubs and nightlife, it sounded appalling. Because the charity functions were so expensive, it would be better just to give the event money and the cost of the clothes straight to the charity, because she had no desire to feature in the gossip magazines every week or to do nothing, achieve nothing. She could write a few books or pay someone else to do it and put her name to it, she could work on the boards of opera houses and museums. She didn’t want to do any of these things. But instead of telling Bunny, she smiled and drank her coffee and excused herself, explaining that she had a hair appointment, something Bunny would know was far too important to put off. 140

Red Heat

***** So it was with trepidation that Jillian approached Chase’s office. She’d taken a week to make her decision. Now she had to tell him. Thanks to his training, she could keep some thoughts private, even at the deep level of telepathy they usually communicated and she’d taken advantage of that while she’d worked out what she wanted to do. What she had to do. Or she’d decline into a piece of property. She could see herself at sixty, immaculately dressed, enormously pleased with herself and she knew she didn’t want that. She didn’t think Chase would want it either. Bunny had only crystallized the thoughts racing around her head and now she knew what she had to do. For both their sakes. He looked up and smiled when she came in. Of course he’d sensed her approach and he’d sent her a warm mental caress that reminded her of how they’d started the day. She almost felt his hand caressing her thigh, the touch that had woken her from a deep sleep. She smiled back but she didn’t cross the room to where he sat on the soft leather sofa, a file in his hands. Immediately he felt her unease and the smile faded. “What is it? What’s wrong?” “I have to talk to you, Chase.” She swallowed her emotion down. She had to get this out before she collapsed completely. “I’m leaving.” “What?” A paper quivered in his hand as he gripped it. “I’m sorry, Chase. It has nothing to do with us.” She took a breath, centered herself and told him. “I can’t just be your accessory. I can’t do it.” His eyes flashed fire. “Did I ever ask you to?” “No, of course not. You wouldn’t think of it. But if I stay here, that’s what will happen. I need a life of my own and I can’t do it here. Bunny—” He growled. “I should have known she’d have something to do with this. Sweetheart—” He dropped the file on the coffee table and got to his feet but when he took a step toward her, she took one back. “No, it wasn’t your mother, not entirely. She wants to take me under her wing, teach me how to go on and take me shopping.” Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Who would have thought that her treating me with what she sees as kindness would force my hand? I’ve been thinking about this and I know what I’ll do.” “You won’t go out of my life. I won’t let you.” That sounded like ownership to her and it firmed her decision. “I’m going back to what I used to have. I used to be a jewelry designer, didn’t I, and I still have a workshop.” “It’s a tiny cubbyhole down on 48th. Only a cupboard you rented from a bead manufacturer. You can’t go there.”

141

Lynne Connolly

“Why not? I can rent an apartment closer to the workshop. I have the addresses of a few.” This wasn’t coming out right. She’d had a speech prepared but as usual, Chase’s powerful presence drove it out of her mind. “Chase, you said I’d changed.” “Yes but—” She wouldn’t let him finish. She couldn’t risk him changing her mind. “You said I wasn’t the same Jillian, that it was likely Bennett used Caroline Cross as a donor. I have her skin and her brain cells. One of her kidneys, so I have two again. How could I not have absorbed some of her personality? I’m more reticent, you said, not as bold. That means I’m a different person. A kind of mix of the two women.” He held out his hand. “You’re Jillian. My Jillian. Come here and let me show you.” “No, Chase.” This was so hard. She loved him so much but she couldn’t let that emotion surface, couldn’t let him see it or she’d be lost. “I have to do this. Find out what I have and what I don’t have. Start a life for myself.” “You can do that from here. We can find you another workshop. Why do you have to do this?” She couldn’t hold back her tears any longer and she let them fall but she wouldn’t give in. “Don’t. Please. I have to do this for myself, on my own. How else can I be sure? I want it back, Chase, and I want to know what I am. Where nobody knows me, so they have to take me at face value. I’d move cities but—” she couldn’t bear that too. She knew New York, loved it. Her memories of the city remained intact, once Chase had broken through. Ironic that the memories that had gone, probably forever, were her previous life with Chase and just before she met him. She would have to start completely from scratch. “You’re not leaving me.” His jaw firmed. Any minute, he’d walk to her, take her in his arms and then she’d be lost in the wonder of being with him. She couldn’t allow it. “Give me six months.” “Three.” He must be affected, because that was the first time she’d known him to make a slip in a negotiation. Because suddenly, that was what this was. “Okay. We don’t see each other in that time but we can contact each other. Not by phone, by email. When I find a place, I’ll email you to let you know I’m fine.” He closed his eyes and she felt his anguish blossom between them. But also a thread of understanding. “Two months. I can’t do it any longer than that. Then we meet and you tell me if you want me or not. Because I’ll be there. I pray you will be.” After she left, Chase went back to the sofa, mechanically gathered the papers together and jammed them into the file. It didn’t seem worth it anymore. But what he’d read in her mind told him he’d lose Jillian if he insisted on her staying with him now. She’d wither away, dwindle into an accessory, just as she said. He had wealth, connections, power and she couldn’t compete. She needed a power base of her own and

142

Red Heat

perhaps the jewelry business could provide her with one. Something she could call hers entirely, something that had nothing to do with him. He’d told her he’d miss her but he wouldn’t stop her going and he wouldn’t renege on their agreement. She knew that Ann Reynolds would want her to report in and she agreed to do that. Just to ensure she was safe. As long as her safety wasn’t compromised he’d give her the space she asked for and he’d only email her once every day. Fuck her ban on it. He’d contact her but she didn’t have to reply. It would kill him. He wanted her in his bed, where he could be sure she was safe, where he could watch her sleep, watch her breathe, wake her up with a kiss and love her into the day. He didn’t think he’d sleep much. If she didn’t come back, he wasn’t sure he’d want to go on. Already two months seemed far too much but she’d asked for it and she needed it. Time to herself, to be sure of the person she now was and to establish her own life. But God, how he’d miss her!

143

Lynne Connolly

Chapter Fourteen Jillian walked through the great glass doors of the Timothy, her case clutched in her hand. Her heart beat too hard, threatening to break through her ribs and she could hardly breathe but she had to do this. See Chase, try to discuss their situation reasonably and decide what to do. His emails had become shorter over the last couple of months and she could almost feel him withdraw from her. He hadn’t contacted her telepathically once, not once and what she’d learned had been from the ice-cold Vanessa, because Ann Reynolds had insisted she learn how to discipline her mind and protect herself against possible psychic invasion. She’d have no problem concealing what she didn’t want people to sense now, not from anyone. At least, she thought so. She still didn’t regret what she’d done. With the tools she’d learned from Vanessa, she’d explored that part of her mind that was left and whatever she had been before, she now knew what she was and who she was. Mostly Jillian, enough to continue using that name, but Caroline had left her mark. Which was only right, because Caroline had unwittingly given her life for the IRDC cause. If Chase couldn’t live with that, then she’d have to let go. Although it broke her heart to even consider it, the weight bowing her down since she’d left. He’d guess. She’d arrived unannounced, having found herself at this end of town and knowing if she left, she wouldn’t have the courage to just walk in. Even if now she could afford to stay here, if only for a night or two. The receptionist was new and stared at her enquiringly. “Can I help you?” She checked his name tag. “Yes, thank you, Graham. I’d like to see Mr. Maynord. Is he in?” “Yes but…” The receptionist bit his lip, no doubt remembering he shouldn’t really confirm if Chase was in or out of the building. Jillian gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Is he in a meeting?” The receptionist just stared. “Call up and tell his assistant that—Ms. Miller is here. I’ll wait.” His eyes opened slightly and a flush mantled his cheeks but he picked up the phone and Jillian moved to a nearby seat. Chase didn’t send an assistant. He came down himself. She felt his presence from the minute the elevator doors slid open, when he extended it to link with her. His hunger pervaded her and added to her own. She couldn’t see anyone but him, couldn’t concentrate on anything else. His dark charcoal suit enhanced his golden allure and in some ways it was as if she was seeing him for the first time. It didn’t matter. She still 144

Red Heat

loved him. Almost by habit, she shoved her secret away and then, offering it almost shyly, she unfurled it and let it take root in her outer senses, where it belonged. He stopped so quickly someone bumped into him from behind. “Sorry,” the woman muttered, then halted, caught by the expression on his face. Heedless of any commotion he might be making, of the people who had stopped, recognized him and got out their cell phones to take his picture, Chase stared at Jillian and she felt the numbness in his mind. She’d never felt that before in him. Chase had never been at a loss, never frozen as he had now. Nobody broke the contact between them or broke the line he had to take to reach her. Six strides did it and then he had her in his arms and swung her around in a circle that made her lose her shoes and her sangfroid. Not that she cared. Their lips met and the world stopped. He slid her down his body and his welcome heat bathed her in warmth. She hadn’t realized she’d been cold before but she’d spent the last two months tossing in a cold bed, looking for him. At last his mind clicked into action once more and she felt him in her, bathing her with his presence. He’d promised not to contact her telepathically before the two months were up and now he seemed to be making up for lost time. She could drown in him but, she slowly realized with growing stupefaction, he felt the same. His tongue entered her mouth and he groaned, the vibrations hitting the back of her throat with an erotic intensity she couldn’t resist. Her hands went to his shirt and she tugged at the buttons. Chase stilled, then pulled back just enough to murmur to her, “You want to take our little fetish one step further? Go for it, sweetheart. You want it, you got it.” She flushed, the hot blood rushing to her cheeks and she smoothed her hands down his shirt, doing up the one button she’d managed to get open. “Oh God!” “Just me, darling. Welcoming you home. Or—” Gently he put her away from him but grasped her hand. “Come with me. I have something to show you.” After she’d regained her shoes, he led her outside where a limo waited for them. He ushered her into the backseat but didn’t take her in his arms. When she lifted a brow at him he laughed. “Sweetheart, once you’re back there the inevitable will happen. I really want you to see this first. Just a few minutes.” At this time of day traffic was at least moving, so they drove around to the other side of Central Park and took one of the roads opposite, one of the eighties. She didn’t bother to look to see which one. They stopped outside a tall, white house on Park Avenue. Wondering, Jillian let Chase help her out of the car. She was glad of the opportunity to find her feet. She hadn’t even been sure she’d find him willing to take her back, much less welcome her like that. In the middle of the main floor of the Timothy, in a way that nobody could misinterpret.

145

Lynne Connolly

They went inside the building and Chase nodded to the concierge on their way past. He would have got to his feet but Chase waved him back down and crossed to the elevator, gleaming with brushed brass and black. They rode up to the fifth floor and the doors opened onto a small hallway. He turned to face her. “I’m hoping you’ll like this. If you don’t, no problem, I’ll call it an investment or something and we’ll find something else.” “Chase, what is this?” Totally bewildered, she followed him through a door to a large, gracious living space. The furniture was a mixture of antique and modern, the best of both. It gleamed with care and not a decanter was out of place on the sideboard, not a cushion unplumped. It looked like an apartment to rent. An expensive one but she saw nothing personal about it. “I had to buy it furnished but we can get rid of this stuff if you don’t like it. Put our own things in.” She caught her breath. In her mind’s eye, she saw a large, squashy sofa by the tall windows and bookcases. The polished wooden floor was beautiful and only needed a few rugs to bring out the depth of the wood. Turkish, perhaps, oriental certainly. She followed Chase around the apartment, room after room unfolding to her astonished gaze. “I didn’t know they made New York apartments so big. It must have four bedrooms. Why would we want four bedrooms?” He smiled. “We might, in time.” In the last bedroom, which contained a four-poster bed upholstered in glowing gold silk brocade, he turned and caught both her hands in his. “Do you like it?” She opened her mouth but no words came. “Chase, this place must be worth millions.” He shrugged. “Forget that. Do you like it?” “An apartment on Park Avenue with a view of Central Park?” “Forget that too. I wanted somewhere I didn’t have to spend the whole day traveling to work and somewhere far enough away from my mother. This turned up on the agent’s list and I—I liked it. But if you don’t, it doesn’t matter. Because what I want most of all is you.” Her breath caught on a sob. “Chase, Chase, are you sure? I’m not the Jillian you used to know.” “I know. When you came back, I was overjoyed, carried away but as soon as you let me enter your mind, I knew you’d come back different.” Better to bring it all out into the open now, rather than let him set up some kind of happy home and then destroy it when he realized she was telling the truth. “But I’m not that Jillian anymore. I’m not the Jillian you fell in love with.” He tugged her closer. She staggered forward a step, still unwilling to end the conversation. “Yes you are. I fell in love with you twice. Once as the original Jillian, the

146

Red Heat

daredevil, the woman who’d do anything for kicks, and then with you.” He rasped a laugh. “Although that only makes you a little less safe than you were before. You still came to the club with me and let me open you for that crowd.” Her panties dampened and he groaned, reminding her he still rested in her mind. “You want to go there again?” She nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. “That’s one of the differences in you, Jillian. Before, you’d have led me through the club’s doors laughing and left the same way. Now you’d still go but you’d feel that tinge of trepidation that adds an edge to the encounter. And you’d leave in my arms, sated after I’d fucked you senseless. Tell me which I prefer.” She bit her lip but he leaned forward and touched it with his tongue, soothing it when she released it and then closer. “I want you so much, sweetheart, but I have to know if you want me. I bought this place so we could have somewhere together. No living over the shop anymore. I want you to know that. But I also want you to know that you can walk out of here anytime and I won’t drag you back.” He dropped his hands and took a step back. “You left me to find yourself. Have you?” She nodded. “I know who I am. I have all the memory back that I’m likely to get, so for me I have to look forward. Make new memories. I’m Jillian Miller, with a touch of Caroline Cross.” He blinked rapidly and his eyes shone with more than their usual gleam. “Then that’s the woman I love.” “Are you sure?” “I’ve been deep inside you in every way I can. Yes, I’m sure.” She gave a shaky laugh. “So am I. I love you, Chase. Let’s do this.” His kiss took them to the bed and as his hands smoothed her body, stroking and petting, she took similar possession of his. He pushed impatiently at her top and she lifted her arms so he could whisk it off over her head. His pause came as a surprise. He stared down at her breasts, encased in lilac silk. “You are so beautiful to me, Jillian. Your body’s changed, you know, along with the rest of you. Your skin feels softer than I remember.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “The old Jillian spent a lot of time at the gym. Maybe it’s that.” “Or just memory letting me down.” He curved his hands around her waist and lifted his gaze to her face. “It doesn’t matter anymore. When you came back, I kept comparing you to the old Jillian, wondering what had changed, and I noticed a few things but they don’t matter. I fell in love with you all over again.” “Twice with the same woman?” He shook his head once, slowly, his hair brushing against her forehead. “Twice with slightly different women. But just as much in love.”

147

Lynne Connolly

“Chase!” With that one word she gave him everything. It was all his. “Everything I am, everything I have is yours.” “And I’m yours.” Their eyes met in a moment of understanding and she dropped all the barriers in her mind, everything that Vanessa had taught her to erect against everyone, friend or foe, all gone. When he did the same she could hardly believe it. Unlike her, Chase’s training had begun early, so early he probably had barriers he wasn’t aware of. Not now. He hid nothing from her, from his early despair at his mother’s lack of love, his father’s rejection of him, to his determination not to allow anyone to use him again. I mean it. All yours. His words sank right down to her bones, became a part of her, as much as the skin grafts, the cell implants, more so because he did it with her full will and consent. It made up for everything that had happened to her. It was all worth it, to find herself here, with him, now. Their lips met in a kiss, a pledge and a promise, as yet unspoken but when he tilted his head and turned the oath into something hotter and darker, she went with him. When he pulled her, she trusted him. They landed on the bed, which bounced gently under them for a few pulses, bringing his erection right up against her crotch. Her turn to groan. Clothes disappeared at a rapid rate, dragged from their bodies but when they were naked, he lifted himself up on his elbows and gazed at her. “I want you here, every night. Under me, over me, by my side. Is that okay with you?” She smiled. “Very okay.” He growled low in his throat and loved her. They could fuck, ravage or gently explore each other’s bodies but it was all making love. Now he took his time, tracing around her nipples with one gentle finger, the fingernail adding a touch of depth that made her shiver. When he followed it with his mouth, kissing and licking around the path he’d made, she moaned and heard his responsive chuckle, one that vibrated the skin on her sensitized breast. “Chase, have mercy!” He lifted his head. “Why should I? You kept me waiting, sweetheart, so now it’s my turn.” He kissed her nipple and sucked it briefly into his mouth before releasing it with a pop. “Why rush such delicious morsels? I want to savor them. Savor you.” “Do I get a chance?” “Not until I’ve had my turn.” But it wasn’t in her nature to lie back and take it. She needed to give back too. So she stretched down to caress his firm, hard back, enjoying the feel of his muscles flexing as he explored her and squirmed slightly under his touch. His need for her roared through her mind but so did hers for him, mingling until it was impossible to separate them. She filled her hands with his hair, medium-length and thick, glowing in her grasp. When he moved lower to place kisses on her stomach and swirl his tongue 148

Red Heat

around her navel she couldn’t reach much of him, so she sat up and curled her body around him, not wanting to separate her skin from his, touching him. Now she could reach his cock but her fingers had barely skimmed the bulbous head when he moved out of reach again. “No, not now,” he muttered against her skin. “I’ll burst.” “Then burst. We’ll just have to wait awhile.” “No. I want to make this first time a bit longer than three minutes.” He lifted his head and grinned at her ruefully. She bent and kissed him, unable to resist the full, rich promise of his kiss. He gave up his explorations and curved his arms around her, lifting back up the bed and grabbing a pillow. With one hand he lifted her body and then shoved the pillow under her ass, tilting her pelvis up, opening her up for him. He paused, kneeling above her, his gaze passing over her in a comprehensive sweep, blue eyes hot and needy. She knew her gaze was the same, she could “see” it in his head, knew the way her hungry gaze turned him on. Taking his cock in one hand, he gripped it and pumped it once, then again. The head swelled, purpled. “This what you want?” “More than anything else.” She swiped her tongue over dry lips. “I want to feel it inside me, then I want to suck it dry.” “Oh God, why did you say that?” A drop of pearly liquid seeped from the tip and unable to resist, she leaned up to claim it with her finger, taking it to her lips, anointing them then licking off the salty fluid. He watched every movement with a stare so hot, she thought it could burn her without touching. When he touched his cock to her pussy, she shivered, a thrill of pre-orgasm snaking up her spine to the top of her head, centering on the chakra between her eyes. The spot grew hot, burned and then he slid down her crease and into her, not stopping until he was embedded, balls deep. She gave him the image of her lips on his cock and he gave back to her, showing her the soaked entrance to her body just before he slid inside. She saw reddened flesh, the clit poking up hard and needy, one touch before it would explode. But he hadn’t touched it, not until his pubic hair touched hers and his body ground against her. “I want your first orgasm today to be when I’m inside you.” No more inhibitions. They seemed ridiculous. “I started to masturbate this morning in the shower, thought I’d take the edge off but I stopped. Either you wanted me or you didn’t and if you didn’t, I planned to buy a toy on the way home.” “What kind of toy?” He held himself very still inside her. She felt their pulses mingle, then beat in time, straining to match each other. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever felt. “I saw a black dildo in a shop the other day. It reminded me of you. Something about the shape…you could fill it with a liquid, something hot, so it would feel more like flesh. But I don’t need it now.”

149

Lynne Connolly

He filled her mind with an image, purely his imagination. Both her holes filled, her butt and her pussy, with him and with something black that she couldn’t see properly because it was in so deep. “Oh I think we do. Tell me the shop and I’ll go buy it. But not now.” She pushed up against him, desperate for him to move. “If you left me now, I’d kill you.” “I’d kill myself.” Suddenly he thrust, taking her by surprise, because she’d felt no telltale bunching of muscle before he lifted smoothly up, then hammered back inside her. Her head went back and she cried out, shocked by the electric charge sizzling up her spine. He did it again, jolting her up the bed, farther onto the pillows at the top, and she howled and curled her legs around his waist, holding on for dear life as he took her on the ride of her life. She couldn’t tell where one orgasm stopped and another began and after a while she gave up trying to, instead, she opened her eyes to find his gaze blazing into her. He dropped his head for a quick kiss but the power and intensity of his strokes didn’t allow for anything more protracted so they stared at each other as he pounded inside her, taking her higher with each stroke. She felt the change in his body when his orgasm began, low down in his balls, sizzling in his head, rising to an eruption that dragged her back up into another so that they came together. She could hardly hear his yell for her scream and she wasn’t aware of doing it until she heard the sound, harsh to her ears. His body fell over her, knocking the breath from her and she had to work hard to suck a small amount of air into her lungs but she didn’t want to let him go, didn’t want him to leave. Ever. He came to when he sensed her dizziness and rolled over, taking her with him. “You know we’ve wrecked this cover,” he murmured. “Probably silk brocade.” She was too busy breathing at first but eventually she replied, with as much spirit as she could muster, which wasn’t a great deal, “What would you know about silk brocade?” “Only that I love you in it.” He lifted a corner of the coverlet and draped it over her, smoothing the fabric down her body. She chuckled and watched him pull the cover back on the other side. Afterward, he helped her over the abused coverlet and between the crisp white sheets beneath. He drew her close. “So do you like this place? Think you could settle here?” Having recovered most of her senses, she lifted herself on one elbow and watched his gaze slide over her breasts and back to her face, with a warm glow in them she knew well by now. “I think so. But Chase—” “Hmm?” He circled her nipple with one finger, watching the resultant tightening. “Stop it. I can’t think when you do that.”

150

Red Heat

“Try. I’ll be doing it a lot.” He did it again and she felt her bones melting. Before he could completely pull her back under again, she got out what she wanted to say. “I want to carry on with the business. My business.” He stopped circling and looked up at her face. “Of course. You went away to find yourself. It’d be a shame if you let it go. Are you any good?” She bit her lip. “I think so. Different to how I was before. I’ve seen some photos and I sought out some pieces. I sold most of them privately, didn’t I? The first time I met you I was a small part of a display in the entrance hall here, a conglomerate of small jewelry designers. I was looking for a buyer.” “I went out of curiosity. The actual purchases would have been down to the manager of the gift store here. I give my managers the autonomy to run their departments the way they see fit, after a year or so of close monitoring. The manager of the store, Barbara Knightly, has been there for years. One of the best things I did was to give her permission to buy what she thought the guests would like. People come in from outside to that place. So it’s up to her, not to me. The day I met you I promised not to interfere.” “Why did you do that?” He glanced up at her, guilt evident in his eyes. “I was avoiding someone. A woman Bunny wanted me to hook up with. She’d come to the exhibition and she was following me everywhere.” She laughed. “Well, I’m glad you did come.” “So am I. If anyone had to relieve me of my virginity, you were the one to do it.” She stilled and met his gaze, her own shocked. “What?” “You didn’t remember that part? I wondered. I couldn’t see it in your mind.” He shrugged, a difficult thing to do in bed but his shoulders moved in a characteristic gesture. “It doesn’t matter.” “Doesn’t matter?” He’d just completely rocked her world and it didn’t matter? What was he thinking? “You don’t remember.” “So tell me.” He left her breast to catch her hand in his and thread his fingers between hers. His smile told her what she needed to know most. He loved her. “Mother suspected that I’d chosen to be a virgin Sorcerer. They have the most power and they dedicate themselves to the art. Very few have other jobs, they work for places like STORM or they do research. I was one of the few who did something else. Perhaps that saved me. But I think it was making love for the first time, not just having sex. They do say that if your first time is rape, then you lose everything, if it’s consensual, then you may get it back if you fight and if it’s for love, you have a chance of keeping it. You give up something but not everything.” “What did you lose?”

151

Lynne Connolly

“Telekinesis. That used to be my strongest psi power but it went and never came back. Fair trade. I got something much more precious.” He tugged her down for a sweet kiss. “I got you.” “But—” “I went to that exhibition because my mother had set me up again and I wanted to go somewhere public, preferably somewhere I could palm her off to someone else, persuade her that she’d dumped me instead of the other way around. My mother never stopped introducing me to ‘nice girls’. Some I liked but none of them enough to give up my chosen path for. She knew what I was doing after the first half dozen but that didn’t stop her. I’d chatted about your work and seen it as part of the portfolio the conglomerate had given to Barbara. Then I saw my date that night—hell if I can even remember her name now. There she was, staring around as if she owned the place or was about to own it, looking like Grace Kelly in High Society. My mother thought I liked cool blondes you see.” “Being one yourself.” He chuckled. “And it turned out to be a feisty brunette who stole my heart. I liked your work but I liked you more. I can still see that red gown you wore, the simple jewelry and the way your hair swept against your cheek. I asked you out to dinner. And that was how it started. After the first week, I needed to see you every day. You said that I was a good kisser. I’d learned that much from self-defense, to stop women from seeing me as a challenge. I didn’t know how many my mother had told, you see. Not that I was a Sorcerer, at that time we were still underground, but the virgin part. God knows how she explained it.” He stopped for another kiss and a sly, “Not a virgin now!” “What does it entail? I mean exactly?” “Coming. Just that. Any emission of sperm.” “What about wet dreams, teenage stuff?” He chuckled. “The downfall of many a would-be virgin Sorcerer. They do teach you techniques but it drives some Sorcerers crazy. There’s some evidence that orgasms and ejaculation are necessary to health. Even monks can come in their sleep and be forgiven. It’s not that easy for Sorcerers. We can pleasure women or men but we mustn’t come. Some can handle that, I couldn’t, so before you I just kept away from getting too close. But with you I wanted it so bad, I knew I had to do something. I told you and you said no, you wouldn’t be responsible for that. You knew by then that I had some special powers. It was a couple of years before the great exposure, when the world discovered Talents but I told you anyway. I was completely in love with you. You held out for a month. The longest month of my life.” This time his kiss was longer, sweeter. “But you gave in. Jesus, when I saw you naked for the first time I nearly lost it. You were so beautiful. Are,” he corrected himself. He huffed a laugh. “Perhaps it’s good you don’t remember our first time. It didn’t last long. I was ashamed, you held me close and said it was wonderful and we

152

Red Heat

could try again in twenty minutes. I was on you in ten. I didn’t even check what psi powers I still had, because I didn’t care. I’d never loved anybody more.” He looked up at her. “I never will.” That earned him another kiss but her lips trembled against his. He’d given it up for her, then lost her and he still had the strength to let her go one last time. “You’ll never have to let me go again,” she murmured against his lips. “Never, Chase, do you hear me?” “I hear you,” were his last words before they lost themselves in a kiss so deep and rich neither could remember when she moved over him or when he sank his hard shaft inside her welcoming pussy. But when she emerged, they were joined again so she sat up and he watched her as she rode him to victory. A fast, hard fuck that sent shards of passion surging through her until wetness coated them both, her juices, his semen and their sweat. They stared at each other, panting with exertion and he smiled. “Let’s see if the showers work properly, shall we?” He sat up and would have lifted her out of bed but she stopped him. “One thing before we go.” She couldn’t wait any longer. She leaned precariously over the bed to fish in her discarded jacket pocket. She brought out a small velvet box. She opened the box and revealed two rings, one larger and broader than the other. She’d fashioned them from rose gold and pale yellow gold, irregularly twisted bands hammered into shape and made one, smoothed the surfaces over again so the two colors streaked together in waving shapes over each gleaming hoop. “I made these. Will you marry me, Chase Maynord? Make me the happiest woman on earth?” One tear tracked from the corner of each of Chase’s eyes, spilled over the brim and fell. He lifted his hand and swiped them away. “Dear God, Jillian.” He turned to open the drawer of the bedside table and drew out a box, similar to her own and opened it. She saw a single marquise-cut solitaire diamond, breathtaking in its perfection, glittering in the sun filtering through the windows. He’d known better than to buy something fussy for her. Then the laughter came, shaky but heartfelt and he lifted her left hand to slide the ring on her finger.

153

About the Author Lynne Connolly has been published for five years and in that time has won two Eppies and a number of other awards, Recommended Reads and other acknowledgements for her paranormal romances and her historicals. While these are very gratifying, that isn’t why she writes. She wants to bring the stories in her head to life and share them with others, in the hope that then she might get some peace. Writing is what she was doing while she was working, bearing children and doing the other boring things that constitute living. Her favorite writer’s motto is “I can use that.” She lives in the UK with her husband, children and cats, and her doll houses. Creating worlds, miniature or otherwise, seems to be Lynne’s specialty! Lynne welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Tell Us What You Think We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at [email protected].

Also by Lynne Connolly Pure Wildfire 1: Sunfire Pure Wildfire 2: Icefire Pure Wildfire 3: Moonfire Pure Wildfire 4: Thunderfire Red Alert

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

www.ellorascave.com