I scrubbed a hand through my hair and wished like h.e.l.l I could travel back in time and erase the events of the last few days. My life had been a whole lot easier, and I hadn't appreciated it enough.

"No, but we can at least pa.s.s it on to your cop friend." Water spluttered as Jackson filled a teapot. He glanced over his shoulder. "I take it you're still intending to pursue this?"

"h.e.l.l yeah. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d's not going to get the better of me."

"Attagirl." He brought the teapot and a cup over to me and placed it on the nearby side table. "You want something to eat?"

"If you've got something sugary, that would be good."

"Iced doughnuts coming up." He returned with a large box of doughnuts, then made his coffee and plonked down on the seat beside me. "Tomorrow we'll start talking to some of Wilson's friends."

I nodded, too busy munching on doughnuts to speak. Between us both, we demolished the entire box of twelve as well as several hot drinks in very quick time.

"And now," he said, collecting both the cups and dumping them in the sink. "It's time for bed."

A smile teased my lips. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." He offered me a hand. "To sleep. Nothing more. I promise."

"A Fae going to bed with a woman and actually intending to sleep? d.a.m.n, that has to be one for the record books."

He laughed softly, tugged me up into his arms, and dropped a sweet kiss on my lips. It went some way to removing the taste of ashes and darkness.

"Trust me," he said softly, his forehead resting lightly against mine. "It saddens me greatly that I cannot raise anything more than the desire to hold you in my arms. I wish it were otherwise."

"Sleep," I said softly, "is all I really want."

"Good," he said, and tugged me up the stairs.

By the time I woke up, the suns.h.i.+ne flooding the far end of the room was bright and warm, suggesting it was closer to lunchtime than to breakfast. I rolled onto my back and realized I was alone in the bed. A quick look around provided no clue as to where Jackson was, which meant he was probably downstairs.

I stretched the kinks from my body, then scooted upright, hugging my knees as I looked around. Like the floor below, the upper living area was really nothing more than one big, open s.p.a.ce. The kitchen was centrally located, and had all the latest mod cons as well as a sink filled with dishes. The living area was on the left side of the room and contained a TV that dominated an entire section of wall, while the bathroom-or at least, the shower and the bath-were in the opposite corner to the right of the bed. An open closet was situated nearby, filled with an untidy mess of clothes. Beyond that was a door, which led into the only separate room on this entire floor-the toilet.

My stomach rumbled a fierce reminder that I really had to feed myself if I wanted to regain the strength I needed to burn the drug out of my body, so I bounced out of bed and padded across to the kitchen. A quick investigation of the fridge provided a can of c.o.ke and half a dozen cold cuts of chicken. I consumed several of those, then grabbed the c.o.ke and went in search of my clothes. After retrieving my phone from my purse, I walked across to the windows. Suns.h.i.+ne caressed my skin, warm and intoxicating. I closed my eyes and let the heat infuse me for several minutes before I dialed Rory.

He answered on the second ring. "How did things go last night?"

"Good and bad." I updated him on all that had happened, then added, "The drug he gave us was N41A. It not only restricts psychic abilities, but acts as some sort of enforcer. Until it's out of our system, we can't pursue Mark's murder."

"But the minute you burn into spirit form, it'll lose effect."

"Yes, except right now that's not really an option. I'm running rather low on reserves."

"Em, that's a dangerous state to be in with all this s.h.i.+t going down. I can get time off work if you want-"

"No," I cut in. "I mean, yes, we will have to meet later today, but don't take time off. You can't afford it."

"You're far more important to me than any d.a.m.n job."

I smiled, warmed as much by the caring so evident behind the words as the words themselves. "I know, but given the drug's restrictions against following our one good lead, it's not like we can get ourselves into too much trouble before tonight. I'd like to get ahold of an antidote if there is one, though. I have a feeling the drug will leave Jackson incapacitated longer than either of us might desire. He may be a fire Fae, but it's not like he can become flame and burn it out of his system."

"That may not be a bad thing. I mean, it's Sam's job to catch the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds behind Mark's murder, not yours or Jackson's."

"I know that. Jackson knows that."

"And neither of you care." He sighed softly. "If a government department is using that drug, then there's got to be an antidote for it somewhere."

"Which is exactly why I called. Do you think Mike might be able to get his hands on it?"

Mike was one of the teenagers who attended Rory's kung fu cla.s.ses at a run-down community center in Newport on the weekends. He'd been on the streets since he was eight and had survived by selling his body, stolen goods, and, these days, information and drugs. Not just any drugs, but the hard-to-come-by, black-market kind. The kind a kid his age should never be able to get ahold of.

He and Rory had formed an odd sort of friends.h.i.+p-probably, I think, because Rory accepted rather than judged. He could hardly do anything else when we'd both traveled Mike's path more than once in our lifetimes. You do whatever it takes to survive, and sometimes that "whatever" is neither pleasant nor on the straight and narrow.

"I'll ask. If he doesn't know about it, he might be able to point me in the direction of someone who does."

"Just tell him to be careful. Sam's people tend to play rough. Oh, and don't go back to the apartment yet. Not until we're sure it's safe."

"We'll have to go back there if you want to renew."

"I know. I just don't want to risk either one of us being caught alone at the moment." I paused. "Although to be honest, I wouldn't mind going for a drive to find somewhere remote."

After all, before flameproof rooms had come along, that was exactly what we'd had to do.

"It would be a nice change." I could hear the smile in his voice. "You'll ring?"

"I will. Just don't go home in the meantime."

"I won't. I'll bunk down at Rosie's for a couple of days."

"Good. But if they know as much about phoenixes as they claim, they could well be watching the fire station and you."

"I'll be careful. Just make sure you are. Remember, I want us both to live to old age this time around."

He hung up. I tossed the phone back onto the pile of my clothes, then finished the c.o.ke and went in search of Jackson.

I found him at one of the desks downstairs. "Do you often work at your desk naked?"

"Only when I think it might induce a pretty lady to come sit on my lap." He caught my hand and tugged me toward him. "I was, however, beginning to think said pretty lady was intending to sleep all day."

I sat astride him and wrapped my arms loosely around his neck. Need stirred within, need that was both s.e.xual and something stronger. Fiercer. "Hunger got the better of me."

"So it seems." He dropped a quick kiss on my lips. "Sadly, it seems to be for chicken rather than me."

"Hey, I'm here now, aren't I?" I s.h.i.+fted, and his breath hitched. The heat within him rose several notches. I flared my nostrils, drawing it in, allowing his warmth to slither through me, refueling the ragged edges of my soul. I was careful, though. He might be a Fae, but I couldn't take too much of his heat for fear of weakening him. But then, all I really needed was enough to keep the edge of utter exhaustion away. "So what dragged you out of a warm bed?"

"Thoughts about Mrs. Wilson." He brushed his thumbs across my nipples. Delight skittered through me.

"Not erotic thoughts, I hope."

"Hardly. Although I'm having a few now."

So was I. "What kind of thoughts were you having about her, then?"

Rather than answering, he s.h.i.+fted one hand, gripping the back of my neck to hold me still as his lips claimed mine again. The kiss became a long, slow dance of exploration and pleasure. Neither of us was breathing very steadily by the time he broke away.

"It's your fault."

I ran a fingertip down his abs. "What is?"

The question was absently said. Right now, I wasn't really caring about anything more than the tension that lay between us. I slid back on his lap to expose his erection, then played my fingertips across it. His c.o.c.k leapt with every light caress, as if begging for more.

"Me being down here instead of in bed." His voice, little more than a low growl, made my senses hum. "You suggested Wilson's wife would have had some sense of him being in trouble-even if she didn't want to confront or admit the situation."

"So?"

"So," he murmured, his concentration seemingly more on caressing my b.r.e.a.s.t.s than what he was saying. "It just got me wondering whether Mrs. Wilson was as clueless as I'd thought, so I came down here to do a little investigating."

I slid my fingers down the length of his shaft, then gently cupped his b.a.l.l.s. His breath hitched again. I smiled impishly and began ma.s.saging him, the rhythm of my movements echoing his. "And what did you discover?"

"That she is not as clueless as she appears."

"Surprise, surprise." I removed my fingers, then slid myself over his shaft, letting my wetness coat him as I slowly moved up and down the length of him.

"Yeah," he said, voice a little strained. "Seems she and Wilson hadn't known each other very long before they were married."

He ducked his head and caught one nipple in his teeth, teasing it lightly. s.h.i.+vers of delight skittered through me. He released me abruptly, then swirled his tongue around the puckered, aching nipple, his touch light and erotic. I closed my eyes and simply enjoyed. But as my movements against his shaft got ever stronger, he groaned, gripped my hips, then thrust inside me.

For several moments, I didn't speak, didn't move, didn't do anything more than simply enjoy the sensation of him being so very deeply inside. "How did you discover that?"

"Our Mrs. Wilson has a Facebook page. She announced she'd met the man of her dreams in May of last year, then declared they were getting married a month later."

"Wow. One of them is a fast worker."

"Hmm," he agreed; then his lips caught mine again, and there was no discussion about Mrs. Wilson or her Facebook page for many, many minutes-just a whole lot of pa.s.sion and heat. Heat that ran through me, fed me, even as I fought the urge to take all that I needed and leave him depleted. We came as one, our groans echoing through the large room as our bodies shook and shuddered. He made one final thrust, then briefly rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my lips.

"That," he said eventually, "is a fine way to start the morning."

"Except," I noted, brus.h.i.+ng the sweaty strands of his hair from his cheek with my fingertips. "It is no longer morning."

"Let's not quibble over minor differences." He dropped a kiss on my lips, then said, "So, Mrs. Wilson. Not only did our loving couple have an extremely fast courts.h.i.+p, but they were married the same month as Wilson began his red plague research."

"What a coincidence," I said dryly. I was still sitting astride him, and I couldn't help but notice that while he might have only just come, he was more than half-ready to go a second round. Fae, it seemed, were insatiable.

"I'm gathering this led you to dig deeper into our Mrs. Wilson's past."

"It did indeed." He slid his hands down to my b.u.t.t and then lifted me up and deposited me feetfirst onto the floor. To say I was surprised was an understatement. He grinned. "You need to turn around and look at the computer."

I did so. On the screen was an image of a pretty blonde with pale blue eyes and a cherub's face. "Easy to see why Wilson might have fallen hard for her, although a pretty face doesn't mean she was up to no good. And if Sam suspected that she was, he would have already investigated her."

"Indeed," Jackson agreed. He reached around me and clicked open another screen. "Especially since dear Amanda has been married a number of times before."

I raised my eyebrows. "And did those unions all end in a bloodthirsty manner?"

"If you're asking if she killed them, then no, apparently not. One husband died in a car crash, two were divorced, and I haven't been able to track down the other, simply because she married him overseas and it apparently didn't last past the honeymoon."

"Four-five-husbands?" I blinked and studied the blonde. "She doesn't look old enough to have had that many already!"

"She doesn't keep them very long. She's been married to Wilson the longest."

I studied the blonde in the picture for a moment, knowing there had to be something else here. I could feel the excitement thrumming through Jackson, and while part of that was undoubtedly s.e.xual, there was definitely more to it than that.

"So," I said slowly, "it begs the question, what was she after? Money, or something more?"

His lips brushed my neck. "I do so love the way your mind works." He reached past me and opened another screen. Information scrolled up. "Husband one was a biochemist, hubby two a bioengineer, three worked in the weapons department for the military, and four is a black-market fence, from what I can gather."

"So, aside from that one blip, it seems she has a thing for researchers."

"Or a thing for the information or items she could get from them."

Which we wouldn't know until we uncovered more about her. Even so, she was looking less like a clueless blonde and more like a schemer. I swung around and faced him. "So what happened to the husbands after she left or divorced them?"

"Ah, that's where it gets really interesting. Husband one was sacked two days before his accident. Husbands two and three also lost their jobs and were found dead a few days later. Suicide was the coroner's official verdict. As I said, I'm still trying to uncover what happened to four."

"Meaning our Mrs. Wilson is something of a latent black widow?"

"Possibly."

More than possibly, I suspected. "Why did the first three lose their jobs?"

"It seems there were . . . discrepancies . . . in their departments."

I raised my eyebrows. "Discrepancies?"

"Labs being broken into, research going missing, that sort of stuff."

"And the husbands were blamed?"

"They took the fall because they were in charge."

Uh-huh. "We really need to talk to her."

"We do." He dropped a kiss on my nose, then caught my hand and tugged me toward the stairs. "But not before I've ravished you senseless."

"I really think talking to Mrs. Black Widow could be a little more important than s.e.x."

"Well, yeah, but Mrs. Black Widow is currently at the hairdresser, and that usually takes at least an hour, doesn't it?"