Piers Lamont perched on the edge of his desk. “So, Sister, what is it you remembered that was so important it brought you from the safety of the mother house?”
“I’m sure you are a man of God and I am equally safe here, Mr. Lamont.”
“Are you? How…trusting. And please, call me Piers. And I will call you…Sister. So?”
She cleared her throat. “The man at the convent. He said his name was Jack.”
“Did he now? And you forgot to mention that?”
“I didn’t know. It was Maria who remembered. She was exhausted last night.” She still was—Roz had left her sleeping. “Does it help?”
“It confirms something I suspected. Is that all—or did Maria remember anything else?”
“Not remembered, no, but there is something else.”
She’d thought about this carefully. She had to find Jessica and soon, but she assumed, from the little Asmodai had told her, that the Order would not get involved with missing humans unless the case impinged on their world in some way. So she had to make it appear as though the two worlds were close to colliding. She’d stopped off on the way here and spoken to Ryan, worked with a police artist and gotten a rough picture of Jack.
“And?” His voice was tinged with impatience. He was probably thinking about his nice, warm bed.
“I saw a news report last night. There’s a girl missing—the police have one of those made-up pictures—”
“An identikit picture?”
“Yes. Of the suspect, and I recognized him. It was the man—Jack.”
“Really?”
She nodded. There was a risk here, that they might check up and find she was lying. But she considered the risk worth it.
Piers drummed his fingers on the table then picked up the phone and punched in a number. “Graham—did I wake you again?” His lips twitched as he listened to the answer. “I have a job for you. Check out a missing person.” He glanced across at Roz. “Do you have a name?”
“Jessica Thomas.”
“Jessica Thomas. Just get the details, and I’ll talk to you later.”
He placed the phone down and leaned back, his hands resting on the desk behind him as he looked her over.
“So that’s business taken care of. What shall we do now, Sister?”
Oh Lord, had she ever heard a speech filled with so much innuendo? She fought down the little voice inside her that was screaming, Take me, take me.
Instead, she smiled demurely. “I must be getting back to the mother house. Sister Maria is very anxious, and she likes me close.”
“I bet she does.”
He pushed himself to his feet, making her jump, and strolled slowly toward her, coming to a halt only inches away. She breathed in sharply, and her nostrils filled with a wild, musky scent that caused the muscles in her stomach to clench. Reaching out, he placed one long finger under her chin. His touch felt cool, and a shiver ran through her, but she didn’t object as he gently raised her head so she had no choice but to stare into his eyes. She had one quick peek and glanced quickly to the floor. The urge to close the space between them was almost overwhelming, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to concentrate her thoughts. The sweet metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, but the pain brought her back to herself.
His sharp indrawn breath sounded loud in her ears, and she glanced up quickly. His gaze was intent on her mouth, and she looked away from the hunger in his face.
Suddenly she knew what he was about to do—the mesmerizing thingy.
“Look into my eyes, Sister.”
It was a good thing she wasn’t looking into his eyes right then or he would have seen hers roll. How corny could you get?
She had to do this. She didn’t have a choice—she never had a choice, and she was starting to get pissed off at that. Carefully, she blanked her expression, raised her lashes, and gazed into his eyes. They were beautiful, so deep a blue they were almost black, and fringed with thick lashes.
For a moment, some dark force caught her, as though the very will was being sucked out of her. Her mind clouded, tendrils of mist wrapping themselves around her consciousness. Instinctively, she fought it, and the fog cleared slightly, enough so she was back in control of her own head.
She forced her mind back to Asmodai’s instructions and blinked a couple of times. Piers’ large hand hooked around the back of her neck and drew her closer. She didn’t fight. Hell, she might not be mesmerized, but she wanted this. Just one little taste, then she’d plant her bug and be out of there.
He was much taller than she was, and he lowered his head to lick the blood from her lower lip. At the touch of his tongue, heat shot along her nerve endings to pool at the base of her belly.
He straightened, and she caught sight of his eyes, glowing with hunger. “You taste so sweet.”
Fear slithered down her spine. She managed to keep it from her face; she’d had a lot of practice at hiding her emotions. What the fuck was he? But even as the question sounded in her mind, the answer flashed up in big neon letters.