Page 74 of Whispers at Dusk
She laughed, feeling a euphoria she couldn’t remember. Maybe she had fallen in love with the mind of the man, maybe she had always known she’d be here as she was with him.
Laughter came easily.
Touching came even more easily.
They tripped at the foot of his bed, falling into it together. Then he showed her just how magnificent he could be with his lips and fingertips and stronger caresses.
And she returned each—passion, hunger, and maybe even the need to bond so completely with another human being increasing with each whisper, each tender brush, each more urgent move that they made against one another. Then they were together, with every movement feeling like a sweet sweep of lightning, until lightning seemed to climax with thunder and they lay together.
Just breathing. And still he touched her with the utmost tenderness, cradling her against him. She rested her head on his chest, knowing she was happier than she had ever been, just to lie there so.
They both jolted as Mason’s phone began to ring.
“Sorry!” he murmured, reaching over her to get it.
She sat up, listening and watching as he glanced at his caller ID and answered.
“It’s Mason. François, what’s happened?”
A minute later, Mason said, “Thank you. And, yes, of course, I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her right away.”
He ended the call and looked at Della.
“As it has turned out, Della Hamilton, we may not know where our psycho killer is at this minute—but tonight, you did save two lives. Frasier MacLean and his star are going to survive—and what’s more, they’ll eventually be just fine.”
She smiled. “Thank God!” she breathed.
He nodded. “A good night all around,” he said softly.
“The best!” she assured him.
“Then let’s keep it going,” he said. “Hell, tomorrow will come soon enough.”
She smiled, opening her arms to wrap around him, wishing the night never needed to end at all.
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“No, I guess human beings figure it all out,” he said, up on an elbow, looking into her eyes, smiling. “Well, this job came with some perks, huh? The private jet is something, but this...”
She punched him lightly on the shoulder. “There is nothing like the Krewe.”
Ten
“Back in the day, Transylvania was part of the Hungarian empire,” Mason noted, glancing up from his computer. “And, to many, Vlad Dracul was a hero fighting for Christianity against the invading Turks. And this may be true or not—he was no more brutal than most feudal overlords.”
“Impaling people was civil back then?” Della asked.
He smiled at her. They were in the suite, but they weren’t alone. Bisset, Taylor, and Lapierre had joined them there that morning.
They were going to have to decide on a course of action.
Pity they were no longer alone. But they were both determined. Finding one another was the best work perk ever, but the fact remained that part of what made them so close was their determination and dedication to do what they did.
And the help they found that others might not along the way.
Back at Krewe headquarters, Angela and others were going through airport surveillance footage, but it was slow going.
They had video from cameras near the harbor, and information from every ship that had set sail from Kirkwall for mainland Scotland.
