Blood Trust - Eric van Lustbader [63]
“I’ll keep Jack McClure away from you.” His tongue was thick in his mouth. He rolled over on top of her. “But remember the most difficult part is just beginning.”
“How could I forget?” Vera said. “Your instructions are drilled into my brain.”
“Now all that remains is for both of us to do our jobs.”
Their lips met, tongues probing just as the doorbell rang. Gunn wasn’t thinking straight and he ignored it, until the bell became one long, uninterrupted burr in his side.
“Godammit to hell!”
Pushing off her moist heat, he rolled out of bed, jammed on his jeans, and padded out through the living room and into the foyer.
“I’m coming!” he yelled, so at least the noise would cease reverberating through the apartment. Putting his eye to the view hole, he immediately drew back. Is it that time already? he asked himself. Well, it must be.
He unlatched the door, pulled it open, and let Henry Holt Carson into his residence. Carson looked around, taking everything in. Then he sniffed twice and said, “Go wash that stink off you, Andrew.”
Gunn nodded mutely, padded into the bathroom, and shut the door. As soon as he heard the shower start to run, Carson stole silently across the living room. At the threshold to the master bedroom he paused, peering in.
“I thought it might be you.” He stepped into the darkened room, heading for the figure in the rumpled bed. “Jack McClure threw the fear of God into you, didn’t he?”
Vera raised her sullen, sex-swollen face. “How did you know?”
“He has that effect on people.” His eyes never left her face. “For God’s sake, put some clothes on.”
“I didn’t bring any clothes.” She sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, toes playing with the cuffs of his trousers. She made no attempt to hide the dark patch between her thighs.
Carson studiously kept his eyes on her face.
Vera laughed. “Look at you.” She stood up, brushing against him, and watched him take a staggering step back.
By now, Carson was red-faced and shaking. Each time he saw her he promised himself that he wouldn’t allow her to get under his skin, and yet somehow she always did.
She parted her thighs. “Don’t you want a better glimpse of the honey pot?”
“You have a foul mouth and a vulgar mind.”
She swung her hair away from her face. “Don’t we all.”
He looked away. “Not all.”
“Don’t play the hypocrite with me. I know you too well.”
Carson took an involuntary step toward her. “Where is she, Vera? Where’s my daughter?”
“I have no idea.”
“Someone has to know.”
“Yes, but who? It wasn’t Alli Carson.”
“Maybe you fucked up with her.”
“Impossible.” Her eyes locked onto his and wouldn’t let go. “I had the best teachers.”
His gaze broke away from hers. “You mistake me.”
She searched through the rumpled sheets for her thong, then remembered she hadn’t worn one. “The cruelest people are the deniers, HH. Delusion is a major component of cruelty: You convince yourself that the situation calls for certain measures. And self-delusion, well, the cruelty becomes extreme because you’re certain you’re doing what’s best.”
“And you think that applies to me?”
“No, HH. I know it applies to you. Our history is just chock-full of examples.”
He wanted to turn away, to dismiss every word she said, but he couldn’t. She had for him the dreadful fascination a serpent holds for a rodent. There was a strange strength inside her that made him want to weep.
“Keep your mouth shut,” he said with the dangerous feeling, a shortness of breath he knew too well.
“Hit me.” She leaned toward him, thrusting out her chin. “That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?” Her smile was knife-sharp and shadowed. “All that power, HH, and you can’t do anything with it. How does it feel to be hog-tied and helpless?”
Carson’s eyes looked wounded. “Why do you need to taunt me so?”
Vera’s laugh was deliberately cruel. “Who knows better than you?”
Carson gave a quick look over his shoulder. Gunn was nowhere in sight. “What have you found out?”
She contemplated him for a moment. “You