Bound By The Night: Dark Heat / Dark Dreams / Dark Fantasy

From here she had a good look directly across into Jordan’s bungalow. She hadn’t been given her choice of places to stay, and if she had, she wouldn’t have picked one so close to his. He was a man who cherished privacy, she could tell that right off. He wasn’t going to be popping over asking to borrow some sugar, that was for sure. And there were other guesthouses—she’d seen them when DiNero gave her the tour of the estate. So why this one, then?

It had something to do with Jordan protecting her, she thought with a low chuckle and a shake of her head. DiNero hadn’t said as much, but he might as well have patted her on the head when he called her honey. She’d figured it out. He didn’t seem to have a problem believing in her credentials or ability to find out what was stalking and killing his pets, but he didn’t think she could defend herself. Monica gave an internal shrug. She hoped she wouldn’t have to, but if she did, she doubted she’d need Jordan Leone’s help.

Never mind those long, strong arms and legs. Those big hands. Never mind the muscles cording in his back and shoulders, clearly visible even through his shirt when he bent or lifted anything. Never mind that mouth...

Monica stopped herself. She wasn’t here for that. Sure, he pushed just about every one of her buttons, aside from the fact he didn’t seem to have a sense of humor. Oh, and that he obviously didn’t like her at all, was suspicious of her being here and had no faith in anything she’d already proven to herself as truth. She could get over him not believing in Sasquatch, but Jordan had been blunt and up-front about his utter lack of even an inkling of belief in anything other than what he could read about in a textbook. A man like that wasn’t for her. No way.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to admire the shape of him through the sliding glass doors at the front of his bungalow as he moved around inside. Cooking dinner, judging by the good smells of onions and garlic in olive oil. She’d eaten at the main house with DiNero, slabs of steak as thick as her fist and wine she bet cost more than her rent. He’d have someone stock her fridge for her tomorrow, he’d promised. Until then, if she wanted a late-night snack, she was out of luck.

At least if she wanted food, Monica thought, watching Jordan’s silhouette, and then she reined in her hormones and went inside.

* * *

Jordan woke early, as he always did, though this morning he’d actually needed his alarm to rouse him. He’d been dreaming, jumbled images that made no sense. Nothing he could remember, really, but for the first time in forever, he couldn’t seem to shake away the sleep.

Breakfast didn’t satisfy him, either. Granola and soy milk. Healthy, yes. Satisfying? Not when he really wanted a platter of fried eggs, a rasher of bacon, a fistful of sausages... Shit. His stomach rumbled angrily as he made himself some sourdough toast spread thickly with strawberry jam. Strong coffee eased the cravings a little bit, but not entirely.

It definitely didn’t help that when he headed up to the main house to see if that woman DiNero had hired was ready to join him on the daily rounds, Jordan discovered Magnus had laid out a spread. DiNero’s personal chef believed in hearty, down-home cooking. Gumbo, jambalaya, but also breakfasts that could feed an army. Jordan nodded at Karen and Bill, two of his assistants, who were helping themselves to the buffet on the sideboard, but he didn’t dare get any closer to the food. He’d fall on it like...well...like a starving man.

He spotted Monica and DiNero on the terrace overlooking the yard. She looked fresh faced and ready to take on anything, her dark red hair pulled into a neat ponytail at the base of her skull. He gave her a grudging nod, noting her work pants and boots. At least she’d dressed appropriately.

“Morning, Leone. How the hell are you? I was just telling Ms. Blackship here about the elephant.” DiNero gave Jordan a gator grin.

“We don’t have an elephant,” Jordan said.

DiNero waggled his brows. “Not yet.”

Jordan sighed. He’d told his boss an elephant was too much to handle. The sheer size of it would mean a habitat that would require far too much upkeep, unless the man wanted the poor thing to be hemmed in. Not to mention that elephants were smart and could be vengeful if mistreated—not that Jordan would ever mistreat an animal, but you never knew how they’d been treated before. Elephants did not belong in a private zoo. Then again, he thought with a bland smile as DiNero kept blabbing away, no animals really did, even if it meant Jordan would be out of a job.

“Grab a plate,” DiNero said.

“Already ate. Thanks.” To Monica, Jordan said, “You want to come on my rounds with me today?”

She tucked a final bite of toast into her mouth and nodded, wiping her hands on a napkin. She swigged some coffee and stood. The way DiNero ogled her ass when she turned made Jordan want to punch the other man in the face.

“He’s kind of a douche bag, huh?” she murmured as they left the dining room.

Jordan gave her a glance. “He’s my boss.”

“He’s totally looking at my butt, isn’t he? I can tell.” She slanted Jordan a sideways smirk.

Jordan didn’t answer her, but Monica laughed softly anyway. They’d just started heading for the golf carts when Jordan’s third assistant, a white-faced and shaking Peter, ran toward them. Jordan knew before the other guy had even said a word what had happened.

“Where?” he asked.

Peter shook his head and pointed toward the mountain-lion habitat. Jordan took off running, Monica on his heels. In minutes they made it to the habitat, where Jordan skidded to a halt. The entire interior of the habitat had become an abattoir. There was no sign of either of the mountain lions.

“It took both of them.” Peter sounded as if he was going to be sick.

Jordan knew how he felt. He ran his hands through his hair, stalking, pacing. He became aware of Monica next to him.

“Can you let me inside?” she asked.

Jordan nodded. “Yeah. We need to check everything out.”

They spent the next hour doing that. Monica took notes on the drag patterns in the dirt and blood spatter while Jordan had Peter, Karen and Bill ready for the cleanup. All of them were silent as they worked.

“No signs of damage to the habitat walls. The lock on the gate looks picked,” Jordan said.

“Scratched.” Monica looked at him. “All around it.”

Jordan shook his head. “An animal didn’t do this. You can’t tell me that something came and picked the fucking lock.”

She tucked her notebook into her pocket and then pushed her hair behind her ears. “There have been instances of tool use in some—”

“I need to check the outer wall. See where it got in.” Jordan wasn’t interested in her lame theories about tool-using monsters.

Monica followed him. “Jordan, wait.”

He stopped but didn’t turn. He could tell that Karen, Bill and Peter were watching, though none of them said a word. Jordan waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. After another minute, he stalked off.

There was nothing. No breaks in the wall. No holes. No bent barbed wire this time. The lock on the gate nearest the mountain-lion habitat had similar markings to the one on the habitat gate. Scratches.

“It’s something smart,” Monica said from behind him.

Jordan frowned and shook his head. “Smart enough to pick a lock? I’m telling you, poachers are doing this. Someone with a grudge against DiNero, maybe...”

“Poachers would take the animals. They wouldn’t kill them. Would they?”

He looked at her. “About seven years ago, DiNero got into a fight with some Japanese billionaire over a rare breed of panda they both wanted. Neither of them had the right habitats for it, but they were going head-to-head over it anyway. DiNero won the auction. The billionaire had someone come in and kill the panda before DiNero could take delivery. Some people don’t want anyone else to have what they want.”

She gave him a long, steady look, then reached to touch his shoulder. Just briefly. Just once. “Jordan, I know this is killing you. Believe me, I want to find out what’s going on.”

He put a hand on the wall and leaned, shoulders hunched. “This is fucked up, Monica. I know DiNero brought you in here because he thinks you can help figure out what’s happening. But I just can’t...”

“You don’t have to believe me,” she said. “Honestly, if it’s a chupacabra or a poacher, does it matter, so long as we find out and stop it?”

Grudgingly, he looked at her. “No. I guess it doesn’t.”

“We’re going to find out what...or who...is doing this.” She looked grim.

Though he hadn’t known her long at all, Jordan had no doubts that woman meant what she said.

Chapter 4

Vadim’s face was a little blurry for a moment on the computer screen before the picture cleared. He was sitting, as he almost always was when they video-chatted, behind his oversize mahogany desk. Behind him, bookshelves overflowed with textbooks and papers. He adjusted his glasses and leaned forward to look at her.

“Strong enough to drag a tiger over a wall but now picking a lock instead?” he asked.

Monica sipped some more of DiNero’s excellent whiskey and nodded. “Yes. Maybe whatever it was got tired of the heavy lifting. It looks like it figured out how to get through one of the gates along the perimeter wall, then let itself into the mountain-lion cage. Both were missing. Some blood, some hair, but nothing else. No bones, even. If it’s actually eating the animals, it’s consuming them entirely.”

“DiNero’s man thinks it’s human, eh? An inside job? Does he have a grudge against his boss?” Vadim sat back in his chair.

Monica shrugged. “It’s possible. DiNero is kind of a dick. But Jordan seems to really care about the animals. If he was somehow working with an outside source to steal the animals away from DiNero, he couldn’t hurt them.”

“He could be making it look as though they’re hurt,” Vadim pointed out.

“He could, I guess. Seems pretty elaborate to me. And he seems genuinely upset by what’s going on. He runs a clean house here. The habitats are expensive and well maintained, not just cages. There’s a wide variety of animals, but they’re all really taken care of.” She paused, sipping. “He’s a little odd. The zookeeper.”

Vadim grinned. “Handsome?”

“Ugh, stop.” She made a face. Vadim was always trying to set her up with some Crew member or other. Then she laughed a little. “Very.”

“I have Ted ready to head down to you once you think you might know what’s going on. I’d send someone sooner, but...”

“I know. Too many investigations, not enough Crew. I got it. I’ll be careful,” she put in before Vadim could lecture her.

Crew rules stated that no investigator try to hunt something alone. They worked at the minimum in pairs. Her role here was to assess the situation and try to get a handle on what they were looking for. No use coming loaded for bear, as Vadim said, if they were really hunting rabbit.

Something told Monica this was no bunny.

“Have they added any security measures?” Vadim asked. “I warned DiNero that your safety was my priority. Not that of his collection. You’re not to go off on your own, do you understand?”

He was nowhere near old enough to be her father, though he tried to act as much as a patriarch to the Crew as a leader. Sometimes Vadim’s protective nature warmed her. Other times, like now, it left her with the urge to roll her eyes and stamp her feet like a teenager reminded over and over again to “drive carefully.” Monica kept her expression bland.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said.

She raised both brows, innocence personified. Vadim sighed. Monica raised her whiskey glass. After a moment, he shook his head.

“Something that can haul away a tiger could certainly do a lot of damage to you, Monica.”

She had, for a period after losing Carl, done many reckless things. But time had passed and her life had gone on, whether she liked it or not, because that was what life did. “I know. And believe me, I’m not... I’m not trying to get myself killed. I’m here to study and assess, and then the team will come in and we’ll catch this thing.”

“If we’re lucky,” Vadim said.

They both knew how infrequently the Crew got lucky. There was a reason why people kept repeating that monsters weren’t real, after all, and it mostly had to do with how hard it was to find proof. Monica raised her glass again, draining it, and this time, Vadim signed off.

Chapter 5

Ten guesthouses, and DiNero put the woman in the one closest to his. Jordan fumed, though it was pointless. DiNero would do whatever he wanted. And, Jordan grudgingly admitted, it made sense to have Monica closer to him, if only because she’d be walking the zoo with him for the next few days.

He’d seen her out on the terrace earlier. Sipping a glass of whiskey he could smell across the lawn and through his open windows. He could smell her, too. The soap she’d used, the laundry detergent seeping from her clothes. Those were good, clean scents. So was the lingering scent of wine she’d had with dinner. She’d be mortified to know he could smell the meat she’d eaten still on her breath, though she’d covered it with toothpaste.

She made him hungry.

Damn it.

Dinner for him had been some pasta with olive oil and some fresh-baked bread. A salad. The food filled him up but didn’t sate him. That was why, he told himself, he was up at nearly two in the morning to rustle around in his fridge for some scrambled tofu and cheese when he really wanted to gorge himself to bursting on a thick slab of beef still dripping with blood... Jordan shook himself. He shoveled the food in his mouth, barely tasting it, trying to fill the emptiness. When he’d finished, he rinsed his plate and looked out the kitchen window to the guest bungalow where Monica was staying.

Her lights were off, which made sense at this time of night. The bedroom window was open, though, like his own. He could hear her inside. The slide of limbs on the bedsheets, the whisper of her hair on the pillow. She murmured something sleepy.

He needed to stop being a freaking creep about it. Jordan shook himself and put the plate in the drainer, then froze, head going up, ears straining at the change in her voice. He couldn’t make out the words, but the tone had changed.

Carefully, slowly, he put the knife and fork he’d been using in the drainer, too. Still listening. He closed his eyes, opening his senses.

Her scent had changed, becoming bitter. The low mutter of her voice rose, edging toward hysteria. Not quite screaming, but definitely in distress.

Jordan didn’t think twice. He was out the back door and heading for the guest bungalow in seconds. He leaped the low brick wall of his back patio and landed hard on the other side, bare feet slapping at the grass DiNero paid so much to keep looking nice. He hit the guesthouse’s back patio in three strides after that. She’d locked the door. One hit with his shoulder and the door frame splintered.

She was in the bedroom, and Jordan barreled through the door ready to battle whatever was attacking her. He’d been unable to save the animals, but there was no way he was going to let something hurt anyone or anything else. He skidded on the hard floor, moving too fast to stop himself when he saw the woman was alone.

She sat up in bed at the sound of him coming into the room. Her hands punched at the air. Her low cry changed as her eyes opened and she focused on him.

He’d been moving so fast that he’d ended up next to the bed. Breathing hard, he stared down at her. He looked everywhere, trying to make sure nothing was there ready to pounce on them both.

“Am I still dreaming?” she asked in a totally clear, absolutely calm voice that sounded nothing like the terrified cries he’d been hearing earlier. “Because if I am, goddamn, please get over here and fuck me.”

She wasn’t still dreaming. Monica hadn’t ever been able to control what happened while she was—she had friends who could lucid-dream, and there was a whole squad of people in the Crew who dealt with the monsters that lurked in the realm of the subconscious. The words had tumbled out of her before she was fully awake, though, and she wasn’t going to take them back.

The man in front of her had grumbled his way through their earlier introductions. He wasn’t someone she’d ever have considered in a romantic way. She was here on a job, not to get laid. Yet of course right now, after the nightmare, which had been even more intense than ever, all she could think about was getting fucked right through the mattress. It didn’t matter much who did it.

“Shit,” Jordan said.

Shirtless, jeans hanging low on lean hips, bare feet. If she’d ordered him from a catalog, he couldn’t have arrived in more perfect condition or with better timing. And, she realized as she took in the heave of his chest and the way his fists were clenched, he’d burst in here to...save her?

She was naked. The covers had come down. He could see her completely, and was he looking? Oh, yeah. He definitely was.

The dream was fading but her hands were still shaking. Now not just from terror. Her nipples had gone hard, and without thinking, Monica cupped her breasts. Not necessarily to hide herself from his gaze. More to draw his attention.

“Jordan,” she whispered. “Come here.”

He did, two hesitant steps until his knees brushed the edge of the blankets. He licked his lower lip, looking her over. His breathing had slowed, but only a little.

“Did you come here to save me?” Monica asked in a low, rough voice.

He nodded. “I thought whatever killed the animals was in here with you.”

“Do you still want to save me?” She shuddered, closing her eyes for a moment to push away the memories. Without opening them, she added, “I need you.”

The bed dipped beneath his weight. When his rough hands skimmed up her bare sides, Monica let out a small gasp and allowed herself to arch back onto the pillows. His breath gusted over her cheek and she turned her face, lips parting, waiting for him to kiss her. She thought he wouldn’t.

But he did, oh, he did. Hard and fierce and sharp, the way she liked it. The way she needed it. His tongue stabbed into her mouth as his hand slipped to cradle the back of her head. Then his mouth was moving down her throat to nip and nibble and then, yes, oh God, yes, to scrape along her flesh in that beautiful burst of pleasure-pain she craved.

When his lips closed over one nipple, Monica threaded her hands through his thick dark hair, fingers tangling. “There. Yes.”

She still hadn’t opened her eyes again. She wanted to be lost in this, all the sensations sweeping over her. She gave up to him.

When Jordan’s mouth moved lower, though, she tensed. His lips tickled the scars on her ribs and belly. She waited for the questions, but all he did was kiss her softly and then move lower to nip at her hip bone. When he parted her thighs, again she tensed, though this time not out of trepidation.

At his first slow, long lick, she cried out. She lifted herself to his mouth, but Jordan had moved to slide his hands under her ass and his grip stilled her. When she tried to move again, his fingers tightened on her skin hard enough to bruise. She didn’t quiet at the sting. She writhed.

His tongue flickered along her clit, then switched to flat, smooth strokes that had her bucking beneath him in a few minutes. Desire was already building, surging. She always woke from the dreams desperate for sex, but this, oh, shit, this was amazing. Brad had been a competent, considerate lover. Jordan, on the other hand, was eating her pussy as if he meant to destroy her with his mouth.

Monica’s orgasm tore through her, leaving her gasping. Her fingers tightened in Jordan’s hair again, involuntarily yanking. He made a noise, something like a low...growl?

Startled, Monica opened her eyes at last. With her climax still washing over her, all she could do was ride it as, seemingly without effort, Jordan pulled away just enough to flip her over. Hard. Reckless. Not at all gentle—in fact, her head butted the headboard for a second before she managed to look over her shoulder.

He was on his knees behind her, already tearing open his jeans. His cock, thick and gorgeous, sprang free into his fist. His other hand slapped her ass as he gave himself a few strokes. He looked at her, eyes gleaming.

A flash of red.

In the next moment, he was inside her, thrusting so hard she again moved forward and only her hands pressed to the headboard kept her from hitting it. He fucked so deep inside her that she cried out, expecting pain but feeling only the hot, slick engulfing of his cock by her still-clenching pussy. Again Jordan thrust inside her. Again.

When his nails raked down her back, she screamed, breathless and gasping. His body covered hers in the next moment as he leaned to find her clit with his fingers. No soft strokes now. He pinched, jacking it as he fucked into her, and it was too much, too much—she was going over again. Spiraling. Exploding.

Jordan’s growl this time sounded like her name, which sent one last wave of ecstasy pulsing through her. He shuddered against her and...oh, fuck, he bit down on her shoulder as his fingers gave her one last pinching stroke and he came inside her. Monica couldn’t come again, not after that, but it was close.

Spent, she collapsed onto her face in the pillows. His weight pressed her for a few seconds before he moved off her to flop onto the bed beside her. Boneless, sated, exhausted, Monica couldn’t move.

She ought to say something, she thought blearily but couldn’t make her mouth form any words. The dream had always made her crave sex exactly how she’d just had it, but this was the first time she’d ever had it exactly how she needed it. She tried to roll over onto her back to at least see if she could get up and go to the bathroom, but her body refused to do anything but sink back into dark and dreamless sleep.

When she woke up to golden streams of late-afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, Jordan was gone.

Chapter 6

As much as Jordan might have loved to take care of everything all by himself simply so he didn’t have to deal with other people, there was no way he could possibly manage to feed and clean the habitats of every animal in DiNero’s menagerie. Not even if he worked twenty-four hours a day. That was why he had a small rotating staff of three workers who took care of the daily care under his charge, while he spent his days visiting each habitat to be sure the animals were safe, healthy and as happy as they could be in captivity.

The woman was supposed to be with him again today on his rounds. He didn’t need her advice on how to keep his animals safe, he thought sourly, just some thoughts on what the hell was continuing to break through and attack them. So far, all she’d done was toss a lot of stupid theories at him. Nothing he could actually work with. Besides that, she hadn’t shown up this morning, not a call, not a note, nothing.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of her.

He was hard now, thinking of it, and that pissed him off, too. For Jordan, sex over the past few years had been relegated to an occasional one-night stand when he traveled into New Orleans. He favored tourists, women in sundresses and wedge sandals, drunk on hurricanes. The ones who were shy or claimed to be, at least until he cut them from the pack of their squealy girlfriends and took them back to the small, barely furnished flat he kept just off Bourbon Street. Anonymous, brief, nothing but two bodies—or three, and once four—writhing and grinding until there was nothing but pure mindless pleasure. It was something he did with strangers, some who never even thought to ask his name. It was not something he did with women he ever expected to see again.

But he’d had sex with Monica last night, and he wanted to see her again.