Bittersweet Blood (The Order #1)

Tara shuddered at the thought of alcohol. She wasn’t ready to face that particular challenge just yet. ”I don’t think so.”


“A coffee, something to eat?”

“This isn’t a social call, Mr. Roth.”

“I thought we’d decided you would call me, Christian.” He circled, his eyes sliding over her. “I like your outfit, by the way, very nice. Black suits you.”

“Er, thank you.” He was standing too close, and she edged away and sat in one of the upright chairs in front of the desk, clutching her bag on her lap.

He took the seat opposite her and regarded her through half-closed eyes. His gaze lingered on her mouth then dropped lower to focus on her throat. Tara refused to twitch under his stare, however much she wanted to.

After a minute, he smiled. “You seem more confident this evening.”

“I am. I’ve decided I’m being stupid worrying about all this—there’s bound to be a rational explanation.”

“There is?”

“Yes. My friend, Chloe, thinks maybe Aunt Kathy kidnapped me as a baby.”

“Why would she do that?”

A flicker of irritation jabbed at her. “Because she lost her own baby, or maybe she couldn’t have one. I did a search on the Internet and found all these cases.” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the papers. She handed them over and his eyes widened at the hefty file. “I’m convinced I’m in there somewhere. So I thought maybe you could concentrate your investigation on these.”

He stared at the file. “Let me get this straight, you want me to investigate all these missing persons. Have you any idea how long that would take?”

“I told you I have the money.”

He opened a drawer in his desk, dropped the file in, and slammed it shut. “In the meantime, I do have some information regarding your aunt.”

Tara had been leaning toward him eagerly, now she drew back in her chair. A lump formed in her throat. She tried to swallow it, but it stuck somewhere halfway down. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Why did she feel afraid? She bit down hard on her lower lip, tasted the sharp metallic taint of fresh blood.

She swiped her tongue over her lip, wiping away the drop of blood, and Christian stood abruptly, shoving back his chair. He crossed the room to stare out of the window, his shoulders tense, fists clenched at his side. Then the tension drained from him, and he swung around to face her. His gaze flickered to her mouth, then away, but not before she saw the heat in his eyes.

What was up with him?

It was weird, but she had the strangest feeling he was thinking about kissing her. Probably more delusions.

Tara forced herself to break the silence. “So, what did you find about my aunt?”

“Are you sure you won’t have that drink?”

“Yes,” she said impatiently. “Just tell me, please.”

“Do you have a photograph of your aunt, a recent one?”

“Sure.” After searching in her bag for her purse, she removed the small photo she always carried and handed it to him. Christian glanced at the picture briefly, then returned to his desk and opened a file. Taking out a photograph, he compared it to the one Tara had given him, before handing the second photo to Tara. “You agree that this is your aunt?”

“Of course it is.”

“That’s a photograph of Kathryn Collins. A photo taken nearly twenty-three years ago.”

Tara studied both pictures. “But she looks exactly the same.”

“I know, but then the dead don’t age.”

“What?” She must have misheard that last comment.

“The photograph I just gave you was taken over twenty years ago,” he repeated. “Shortly before Kathryn Collins was killed when a drunk driver ran her car off the road.”

The room went out of focus. Tara closed her eyes, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. A woman with the same name as her aunt, who looked identical to her aunt, had died over twenty years ago. There had to be an explanation. She opened her eyes to find Christian watching her, his face expressionless.

“Let me get you that drink,” he said.

“No!” A drink was the last thing she needed. She took a gulp of air. “I’m all right. I just need to think this through.” Her brain latched on to the obvious answer. “Identical twins?”

“How would that explain the fact that your aunt didn’t age? Because she didn’t, did she? Think back, Tara, remember your aunt when you were young. Was she really any different?”

Her aunt had just always been her aunt. Tara closed her eyes and pictured her first memories. Aunt Kathy explaining the rules when she was little, then again at regular intervals all the time Tara had been growing up. And each time she looked the same. Even her aunt’s hair had never changed although Tara could never remember her going near a hairdresser.