Chasing Midnight

And once the animal was free, there could be no certainty of restraining it.

The smell of the liquor went sour in Griffin’s nostrils. He’d been speaking no less than the truth when he’d told Mal that his life’s only remaining purpose was to protect Gemma. God knew, nothing else seemed very important. Any competent businessman could take his place administering the Durant estate, charities and commercial holdings. He had little interest in politics and even less in high society, beyond what was required to secure Gemma’s future.

And as for women…

He closed his eyes, drawn once again to the alley and his unconventional meeting with Allegra Chase. “You’re truly alone, aren’t you?” she’d said. “Is that why you spend your time rescuing damsels in distress?”

Her question had been intended as a gibe, but somehow she’d sensed that he’d cut himself off from the opposite sex, unwilling to embark on empty liaisons with the kinds of women who gave themselves freely for a handful of expensive trinkets or a few months of sexual gratification.

Allegra Chase was exactly that sort of woman, or would have been if she were human. She had her “obligations,” her powerful ties to the vampire who had Converted her, as well as to the rest of the clan—literal ties of blood even more binding than those that governed the world of the pack.Yet Griffin was still thinking about her, still remembering the fire in her eyes and the curves of her shapely legs. He’d dreamed of her last night, and awakened this morning hard and aching with need.

It was ridiculous. Allegra had been honest enough to warn him that the attraction he’d felt wasn’t real when he was too muddled to think for himself. She obviously had no more interest in him than she might have had in an African ape.

He should have been grateful. At the time, he’d thought she’d done him a favor. Allegra Chase was only a fantasy, and such visions eventually faded.

But this one hadn’t. If the attraction hadn’t been real, it surely would have died a quiet death by now.

Griffin scowled with self-disgust, nearly cracking the snifter in his hand. The only cure for these irrational thoughts and feelings would be time…time and the inevitable distance ensured by two very different lives.

Time and distance made no difference to Mal, he reflected. Once his friend had given his heart, nothing would shake him from his course. And that was why Mal deserved his happiness, he and the dreamers like him. No one—except for a few ambitious debutantes and their mothers—would notice or care if Griffin Durant cut himself off from the society that had kept him civilized.

Shaking off his grim mood, Griffin picked up the telephone receiver and gave the operator a number he hadn’t called in far too long.

“Kavanagh,” the man on the other end answered.

“Ross?”

“Griffin? Griffin Durant?”

“Hello, Ross. I know it’s been quite a while—”

“Hell, man. Far too long. How is life among the polo players and stuck-up debutantes of the North Shore?”

“The same as always. Nothing much changes here.”

“So I’ve heard. How is Gemma?”

“Her seventeenth birthday is just around the corner.”

“That old? You must be watching her like a hawk.”

“I do what I can.”

“And the pack? They aren’t giving you any more trouble?”

“No more than usual. I can handle them.”

Ross Kavanagh laughed, an edge to his voice. “Yeah. I’ll bet.”

“And you?”

“I’m dead to them. They leave me alone, and I don’t tell the other cops or my friends in the Prohibition Bureau about their little operation.”

“Good.” Griffin sat in the chair next to the telephone stand, forcing his muscles to relax. “Listen, Ross…I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it, brother?”

Succinctly Griffin recounted the situation with Margot De Luca. “Mal’s already been to see her father, and asked around every club he and Margot frequented, all with no success. If you could keep your ear to the ground, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure. Mal’s a good kid.”

“Honest, honorable and the bravest man I’ve ever known.”

“That’s saying a lot, coming from you.” Griffin heard the sound of a pencil scratching on paper. “I’ll give you a call if I turn up anything.”

“Thanks, Ross.”

“Don’t be such a stranger, Grif.”

As he hung up and walked to the window, Griffin wondered if he would ever be anything but a stranger. He had chosen his course, and he had no one to blame but himself.

With a snap of his wrist, Griffin closed the drapes and let the darkness enfold him.

Chapter Three

LULU’S WAS JUMPING tonight, and the hottest table in the joint belonged to Allie Chase.

She relaxed in her chair, an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips, and watched Pepper Adair dance the Charleston on the tabletop, red hair bouncing to the jazz band’s hectic rhythm. Bruce and Nathan were clapping in time, shouting encouragement as the tempo increased, while Nikolai stared into his drink with a feigned air of gloom and pretended he wasn’t having a good time. Sibella scribbled furiously in her sketchbook, deftly working to capture Jimmy McCrae in action as he balanced an empty glass on his nose.

“It is all so meaningless,” Nikolai said in his heavy Russian accent. “Must we always fiddle while Rome burns?”

Allie laughed. “Is there a fire somewhere I haven’t heard about, Kolya?”

He gazed at her from dark, soulful eyes. “There is the one in my heart, which only you can extinguish.”

“Oh, knock off the mushy talk, comrade,” Jimmy said, tossing his glass from hand to hand. “You know Allie ain’t interested.”

Allie smiled sweetly. “What would I do if I didn’t have you to tell me all about myself, Jimmy?”

“Good question.” He grinned and loosened his collar. “What I don’t get is why you haven’t fallen for me.”

“Because she has better taste than that,” Bruce said. “Such good taste, in fact, that I doubt any guy will meet with her approval in the foreseeable future.”

“Don’t listen to him, Allie,” Nathan said, his gentle face achingly sincere. “Sometimes he just likes to hear the sound of his own voice.”

Bruce snorted. “Allie would be the first to agree with me.”

The music had stopped. Pepper jumped down from the table and plopped into a chair, her face flushed and her eyes bright. “What are y’all talkin’ about?” she demanded. “Come on, tell!”

Allie signaled to the waiter to bring another round of drinks. “It’s nothing very interesting, really,” she said lightly. “Just a discussion of my love life.”

Pepper leaned forward, the neckline of her frock falling open to reveal a sliver of her fashionably flat bust line. “How excitin’! Who is he, darlin’?”

“Nobody, Pep,” Jimmy said. “Just the usual string of one-night stands.”

“That’s right,” Allie said. “I believe in keeping things uncomplicated.” She accepted a whiskey from the waiter and took a long drink. “I’m not the kind to settle down like Bruce and Nathan.”

“Who says I’ve settled down?” Bruce said.

“Don’t you be mean to Nathan, darlin’, or you’ll regret it. Won’t he, Allie?”

Allie gave Bruce a long look, and he acquired a sudden interest in his drink. Kolya heaved a great sigh. Sibella chewed on her pencil, oblivious. The jazz band struck up another number.

Pepper seized Jimmy’s hand and hauled him onto the dance floor. After a moment, Bruce and Nathan wandered off together, while Kolya began to feel the effects of his drinking and sprawled across the table. Allie smiled fondly and ruffled his dark hair.

“Look after him for me, Sibella,” she said. “I’ve got some business to attend to.”

Sibella mumbled agreement, and Allie strolled away from the table. She felt the eyes on her…covetous eyes, hungry eyes, eyes that saw a length of leg in a rolled silk stocking, the sway of hips beneath a low-waisted black satin dress, and thought nothing of the woman to whom they belonged.

That suited her just fine. The men who watched her, who assumed she was a hot little number who would jump into bed with the first big six to pass her a line…they were her rightful prey. The boldest fish were the easiest of all to hook.

She allowed her gaze to wander from table to table, seeking the most likely mark. A young man in Oxford bags, his face as yet fresh and unblemished by years of dissipation, tried to catch her eye. She ignored him and passed on, pretending boredom as she examined the darkest tables in the back of the room. An otherwise appealing mobster grinned in her direction, but when he lit his cigarette she crossed him from her list.

At last she found the perfect donor: a good-looking man in his early thirties, his cynical expression hinting at experience, his body firm and fit. She sauntered toward him, dipping her finger in his gin and slowly licking it clean.

“Buy me a drink?” she asked, sliding into a chair beside him.

He looked her up and down. “What’ll you have, baby?”

She picked up his half-empty glass, drained it and gave him a heavy-lidded stare. “Whiskey and soda,” she drawled. “And make it fast.”

He ran his fingertip from her bare shoulder to her wrist. “Why’re you in such a hurry?”

“I don’t believe in wasting time when I find what I want.”

“I can see that.”

“Then let’s have that drink.”

He signaled to a waiter, his attention focused on Allie. When the waiter failed to appear at the table, he glanced reluctantly toward the bar.

“Promise me you won’t go anywhere, baby,” he said, an edge to his voice.

She stretched luxuriantly, letting him glimpse several inches of bare thigh. “Now, why would I do that?” she purred.

He wrapped his fingers behind her neck, pulled her against him and kissed her, hard. She gave him exactly what he wanted, melting into him with a little gasp of admiration.

“There’s more where that came from,” he said, rising from his chair. “You stay right where you are.”

He strutted off like a peacock, all broad shoulders and jutting chin. He thought he’d won the prize with his natural charm and good looks. Men like him always assumed that any girl, even the most sophisticated flapper, would fall for them if they so much as crooked their fingers.

Let him keep his illusions. He would awaken from their encounter believing he’d had the best sex of his life, which meant that she could come back for more and he would be happy to oblige.

Allie rolled her toes inside her pumps and let her thoughts wander to yesterday’s fruitless search. She and Lou had practically turned the apartment upside down looking for the papers Elisha—and obviously someone else, as well—believed Cato might have given her. They hadn’t found anything but dust and a pair of earrings Allie had thought she’d lost last winter.

In a way, their failure had relieved Allie. She hadn’t solved the mystery of why those notes were so valuable, but at least she could honestly say she didn’t know where they were if someone questioned her again. And that might buy her time to keep looking into the circumstances of Cato’s death.

The watch on Allie’s wrist ticked out the minutes, and lover boy still hadn’t returned. She glanced toward the table where she’d left Kolya and Sibella. Kolya had fallen asleep over his vodka; Sibella was still sketching the various speakeasy patrons, her tongue between her teeth. Beyond them, at the entrance to the club, the doorman had just admitted a single girl in a cheap, overlarge yellow dress and a long string of very expensive-looking pearls.

Allie tapped her fingers on the tabletop. During her two years of hunting in Manhattan’s various clubs, speakeasies and dives, she had learned how to read people with almost perfect accuracy. For someone in her position, such a skill was essential. She’d used it to pick friends, like Bruce and Nathan and Pepper, who weren’t apt to question her peculiarities, and she relied on it to help her select her donors.

Now she looked at the girl in the yellow dress, all wide eyes and red lipstick, and knew exactly what was about to happen.

Get out, Allie thought. Get out while you still can.

The girl took a few steps farther into the room, staring about her with an expression that practically begged the worst of the roués and lady-killers to go for the throat. Fresh meat…that was all she would be to them. Easy to get drunk, since she’d probably never tasted anything stronger than near-beer, if that. Easy to win over with compliments and pretty words of admiration. All a man had to do was appeal to her desire to be daring and rebellious, and soon she would be eating out of his hand.

And then…

Hissing between her teeth, Allie folded her arms and turned away. It wasn’t any of her business if inexperienced girls who thought they wanted a fast life came slumming where they didn’t belong. The pearls suggested that this one had come from a privileged background. She’d probably never known a single day of suffering in her entire life.

Pampered and spoiled, Allie thought. She’s nothing like I was.

But Allie’s rationalizations didn’t improve her unexpectedly dark mood. She swiveled to watch as the girl walked up to the bar with an air of forced bravado and ordered a drink. The bartender asked her a question; she tossed her head and laughed. With a shrug, he moved to fill her order.

A moment later the first of the tomcats arrived…a handsomeValentino with slicked-back hair and a smile too full of teeth. He sidled up to the girl and engaged her in conversation, not quite touching her, playing the good old pal for all hewasworth. The girl picked up her glass, gingerly sipped and nearly choked on the liquor, her fair skin turning scarlet with chagrin. Valentino laughed companionably and gave her a brotherly hug. She gazed at him with gratitude and the beginnings of real interest.

Lousy taste, Allie thought. At least find someone closer to your age. Like that boy in the Oxford bags…

But the girl wouldn’t be interested in some collegiate type. She wanted the bad men, the dangerous ones her parents wouldn’t approve…just like the ones who were beginning to circle the bar like sharks smelling blood.

Maybe she’ll get out of it all right. Maybe she’s smarter than she looks…

“Miss me, baby?”

Allie’s own chivalrous suitor set a fresh pair of drinks on the table and settled into his seat beside her. “Where were we?” he drawled. “Oh, yeah…you were saying that you don’t like to waste time.”

“That’s right. I’m a regular bearcat when my interest is aroused.”

“No kidding.” He licked his lips, as his hand snaked under the table and came to rest on her knee. “I admire a doll who gets right to the point.”

Suddenly Allie was sick of his clumsy lovemaking. She stopped his hand in its progress and pulled him out of his seat. “Let’s go.”

He gaped at her. “Now?”

She smiled mockingly. “Having second thoughts?”

“Don’t you even want to know my name?”

“Why? You don’t know mine.”

“Sure I do. You’re Allie Chase. Everyone knows you.”

“Isn’t that nice.” She ran her fingernails up the length of his sleeve. “Are you coming or not?”

He surrendered to her tug and followed her to the back door. “Where are we—”

“The alley.”

“You want to do it there?”

“Why not?”

He grinned, excitement replacing surprise. “All right, baby. Fast and hard it is.”

Allie had barely stepped out into the alley when he lunged at her and pushed her against the brick wall, one eager hand pushing the skirt of her dress up to her hips, while the other fumbled with his trousers. She felt the hard bulge of his cock pressing against her belly. With a little sigh she pressed her face against his neck and kissed him, unbuttoning his shirt and loosening his collar. By the time he had worked her step-ins down around her thighs, she had pulled his coat and shirt away from his shoulders.

The hunger swept over her, demanding immediate relief. She kissed him at the juncture of his throat and shoulder, finding the veins closest to the skin. He forced her thighs apart. She bit him—gently, so gently that he would feel no more than the slightest pinch. She licked the small wound in his neck, tasting blood and releasing the chemicals her own body produced, waiting while they went to work…drew back and watched in astonishment as the slack face before her began to change, taking on strikingly different lines, brown eyes changing to gold, alight with fierce desire.

Allie swayed, startled by the sheer power of her own imagination. Her body grew hot and wet; she could almost feel Griffin Durant’s hands on her flesh, stroking, exploring, touching her breasts and her thighs. His mouth was on hers, savage and possessive; he pressed against her, demanding entrance, and she could think of nothing but taking him inside, making him a part of her for all time…

Her nameless prey gave a soft groan and let go of her shoulders. Griffin Durant vanished. Seized by desire that had become a raging thirst, Allie shook off her confusion and focused on the reality of the man in her grip. While he stood smiling in an erotic stupor, she took what she needed. The blood was both tart and sweet on her tongue. She felt new strength seep into her bones and muscles and organs, the first rush of euphoria that always came with a good feeding but was all too often so quick to evaporate.

When she was finished, she steered him to the wall and let him slump there while his wound began to heal. “That’s all, friend,” she said, patting his stubbled cheek. “You just sleep it off right here.”

His knees buckled, and he slid to the dirty pavement. Allie stepped over his sprawled legs and tapped on Lulu’s back door. A waiter opened it, glanced past her at the body and hastily stepped aside.

Everything was much as Allie had left it. Pepper was up on the table again; the jazz band was playing “Sugar Foot Stomp.” Allie found herself searching the crowd for a yellow dress with a string of pearls. She didn’t have far to look.

It was a lot worse than she’d thought. Valentino had been ousted from his favored position by a notorious womanizer who was known to prefer rape to any sort of consensual sex. Jake Greco was one of Carmine De Luca’s hatchet men, a bully of the worst kind—immensely handsome, ruthless and consummately capable of deceiving any woman naive enough not to know his reputation.

Miss Yellow-Dress had been completely taken in. Several empty glasses stood before her on the table she shared with Greco, and she had another in her hand. She giggled as she drank, nearly dropping the glass when she attempted to put it down. Greco laughed and dabbed at her mouth with his handkerchief. She draped her arms over his shoulders and whispered in his ear.

Whatever she’d said gave Greco the encouragement he needed. He groped at her small breasts. She squirmed, still half smiling as she made some mild protest. Greco didn’t listen. He pulled her hard against him and kissed her roughly. She braced her hands on his shoulders, trying to pull away. He made some comment that penetrated the girl’s inebriated haze. Suddenly her smile was gone, her pretty face aghast with the dim realization of what she had done.

Allie ran her tongue over her teeth. She knew what came next: Greco would strong-arm the girl out of the club, and he would get away with it, because the few people who might give a damn wouldn’t risk provoking his anger.

From the look of her, the girl wasn’t going to go quietly. Greco clamped his hand around her arm and started for the door; she leaned away with all her insubstantial weight, the heels of her pumps scraping along the floor. The jazz band played on with furious abandon, and every pair of eyes in the place was focused on something as far away from Greco and his victim as possible.

Every pair except Allie’s.

She strolled to her table, pulled her compact and lipstick from her tiny beaded pocketbook and carefully reapplied the vivid color. Jake Greco and the girl were halfway to the door. Allie fluffed her hair, gave her body a little shake and walked directly into Greco’s path.

“Why in such a hurry, handsome?”

He stopped, briefly startled by her abrupt appearance. “Allie Chase,” he said, digging his fingers into the girl’s tender skin. “What do you want?”

Allie examined her nails. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering why you always go after half-grown schoolgirls who can’t fight back.”

A look of pure fury crossed his face, and then his mouth twisted in a smirk. “Why would any girl want to fight me?” He yanked Miss Yellow-Dress around to face him. “They all love me. Ain’t that true, doll?”

The girl averted her eyes, every muscle in her thin frame straining against him. “Let me go,” she whispered.

Greco laughed. “They always say that. It don’t mean nothing.” He fixed Allie with a hard stare. “Get outta my way, bitch.”

“Give me one good reason why I should.”

He raised his fist. “I’ll give you five.”

She lifted her hand to her forehead and feigned a swoon. “Oh, deah. Whatevah shall Ah do?”

Greco swore and barreled forward, shoving Allie aside. She spun around and seized the back of his collar, jerking him to a halt.

“Come on, Jake,” she said. “You can do better than that, even if you do like to rape little girls.”

In one motion he released Miss Yellow-Dress and swung on Allie, his fist slicing the air like a meat cleaver. Allie moved lightly out of the way, grabbed Jake’s arm and twisted. With a cry of pain, Jake fell to his knees. Allie held his arm behind his back and kicked him in his posterior.

“Want to try again?” she asked.

He snorted like a bull, his face beet red. “I’ll kill you, bitch.”

“No, you won’t.” Bruce came to stand beside Allie, Nathan at his back. “Allie’s got too many friends, and you’ve got too many enemies.”

“That is right,” Kolya said, his heavy-lidded eyes flat with hostility. “You had best find another place to do your hunting, svoloch.”

“And remember you ain’t the only one who carries protection,” Jimmy said, patting his coat suggestively. “Them that live by the sword die by the sword, so they say.”

Allie’s heart warmed at her friends’ support. She didn’t need their help, but it meant something that they were willing to give it.

“You heard them, Jakey,” she said, blowing her breath into his ear. “You can get up and walk out of here…alone. If you pull your gun, you’ll never make it to the door.” She glanced up. “Pepper?”

“I’m here, darlin’.”

“Look after the girl, will you?”

“I’ll do that little thing. Come on, sugar.”

Allie heard the tap of two pairs of pumps moving away. When she was certain the girl was out of harm’s reach, she released Jake. He scrambled to his feet and thrust his hand inside his coat. Allie struck him across the face so hard that he crashed into the nearest table.

“One last chance,” she said. “Get out.”

Jake pawed at the broken table and hauled himself up, swaying like a drunken bear. Allie could see the thoughts plodding through his head as he weighed his chances. In the end he must have decided that Allie Chase was too strange a creature to fight. He staggered out the door.

Allie brushed at her dress and muttered a curse when she noticed the run in her left stocking.

“Send Jake the bill,” Bruce suggested. His eyes twinkled with appreciation. “That was quite a show, honey. Hard to believe a little thing like you can fight so well.”

“You did it for the girl,” Nathan said, glancing toward the table where Pepper sat with Miss Yellow-Dress.

Allie smoothed her hair. “Jake needed taking down a peg, that’s all.” She kicked off her pump and removed the ruined stocking. “Get me a drink, Kolya, would you?”

Kolya sauntered off, and Allie went to join Pepper and Miss Yellow-Dress. It was obvious that the girl had been crying, and Pepper was doing her best to comfort her. The girl’s long hair had fallen out of its pins, and her rouge was smeared. A fresh drink sat on the table before her.