RED NIGHT ~ VAMPIRE FILES TRILOGY (Book 1)

5

Before I can scream or do more than drop my bag, a gloved hand is over my mouth and an arm like a vise grip is around my waist, pulling me against a firm body. Oh God! I don't know the voice, but every fiber in my body says it's Blue Eyes. My screams are muffled behind a leather glove.

I'm pinned between him and the car so I'm unable to raise my knee and bring my heel down on his foot. I can't move an inch within his grasp. My hands claw at his arms with no effect. After a few moments I stop screaming and struggling. He seems to be waiting for something.

Once I stand completely still and cease my screaming, he speaks. "If you remain calm we will have our discussion in a civilized fashion, but if you continue to scream or try to run, we will have this conversation somewhere more private." He has a faint accent that I can't identify. "Do you understand me, Ms. Lewis?" His lips are at my ear and I can feel his warm breath as he speaks.

I try to control my trembling as I nod my head. As soon as he removes his hand I consider screaming, but wait to see what he will do next. Even though he has removed his hand from my mouth, he still holds my body tightly against his.

My voice is so shaky; I can barely get the words out. "What do you want, and how do you know my name?" Those seem like logical questions to me, even if the situation is not.

"I'll be making the inquiries," he purrs in my ear. "I know a great deal about you, and what you do for a living, Ms. Lewis. What I would like to know is, why did you follow me last night?" His tone is conversational—more curious, maybe.

"You seem to know so much, why don't you tell me?" His arm tightens around me enough to make it difficult to breathe. He releases the tension as quickly as he added it, but I get the message.

"I was following the woman you were with. She's having an affair with a married man," I say with a hint of sass that I can't hold back.

He lets out a soft breath, "Ah, I see. Unfortunately, when you take photos of me it becomes my business. I'm a painfully private person, Ms. Lewis. Tell me, what did you see while you were spying on me?"

It's unnerving that his mouth is so near my ear, causing his lips to brush against it when he speaks. I can't contain a shiver, and his body stiffens in response.

Oh crap!

My involuntary movement seems to have caused him to pause. That can't be good. I need to keep him talking. "Who are you?" I blurt.

At first he doesn't answer, and then he says, "My name is Adam. My last name won't do you any good. You might say I'm a ghost."

He seemed to have moved his mouth higher, and is now speaking into my hair, which is an improvement, but still too intimate.

I try to push away from him, but still can't get his grip to loosen. It's a completely wasted effort. He's like a stone wall that won't budge. "Can you let me go so we can talk without you glued to my backside?" Way too much sass. I'm going to get myself killed.

To my surprise he slowly releases me and steps back almost enough for me to turn around and face him. I lean back against the car, trying to gain inches between us. His hands are on the car and I'm pinned between them. I'm not going anywhere.

He looks at me like a puzzle that needs to be solved. His face is so handsome it almost hurts to look at him—even more so when I think he must mean me harm. How many women have fallen victim to that face? I'm starting to think that having my back to him was the safer position.

We stare at each other. Tonight he's wearing jeans and a cream colored sweater that fits snugly across his broad chest. His build is more impressive out of a suit and his striking blue eyes do seem to almost glow.

My dream comes slamming into me with crystal clarity, and I inhale sharply. This is too familiar. He notices my response and narrows his eyes at me.

"What do you want from me?" I blurt to cover my reaction.

"I need to know what you witnessed last night." Our faces are mere inches from one another.

"I saw the two of you making out like teenagers. Can I leave now?" I glare at him with a confidence I don't possess at the moment.

I have the sense that if I show him my fear again, he will pounce. I'll play the tough girl.

"I think you saw more than that, Samantha," he says, making my name sound like silk.

I feel as though he's taken things to a whole new level by the intimate way he uses my name, as though he's said it often.

His eyes leave my face and wander down to my heaving chest, and then up to my neck, where he becomes preoccupied. He's so focused on my neck that I start to wonder if he remembers what's going on. I'm more freaked out now than when he first grabbed me.

"Can you back off and give me some space? I can't breathe with you in my face like this." This comes out harsher than I meant, but I need space between us quickly.

Instead he leans in closer, drops his head, and places his lips to my neck. Reflexively, my hands go to his chest. Once again, he doesn't move. I'm frozen. I don't know what to do. I feel like any wrong move could be my last.

After what seems like an eternity he inhales deeply, raises his lips to my ear, and says, "You interest me, Samantha Lewis."

This is not good. "I'm here on business for a while. May I call on you?" he asks, but it doesn't sound like a question.

How did he get my real name? I've used Samantha Chase as my alias for six years.

"No, you can't call on me! What do you think this is, a dating service? You're holding me here against my will!" I fume. He pulls back to look at me again, but this time a slight smile touches the corners of his mouth.

Oh my...! I thought he was attractive when he was all broody and angry. If the circumstances were different that smile might be my undoing.

I hate my hormones right now!

"I'm inclined to question your honesty, and I refuse to take no for an answer. I'm accustomed to having my way, Samantha but you are free to leave." We stare into each other's eyes.

Those eyes.

He's not going to let me go. This is the moment he murders me, or worse. My heart is racing a million miles an hour and I fight the feeling of lightheadedness that comes before passing out.

He takes a step back, and I quickly grab my bag from the ground and turn to get into the car. I'm still waiting for the hammer to drop. I hold my breath, hoping beyond all hope that I'm allowed to get in my car and drive away. But I don't truly believe it.

Once in the car, I reach for the door and look up, but he's gone. I quickly lock the door and look all around.

He let me go.

My mind can't process this thought. Still not trusting that I'm free, I rev the engine to life and press the gas pedal to the ground. Even the satisfying sound of tires peeling out doesn't give me relief from the fear that grips my heart. I drive several miles from the area before I allow myself to slow down. I'm shaking so violently I'm forced to pull over and stop the car.

I look in the rear view mirror for the hundredth time to make sure no one is following me. I turn the heater on high and sit there until I can get my body under control. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel and finally, my emotions give over to tears.

Once my self-pity moment has passed, I wipe my face with a tissue and stare straight ahead for a while.

What just happened?

Back on the road, I decide to drive to Dayna's house. I'll tell her that I had a couple too many beers with a friend and sleep in her spare room. I can't be home alone tonight. I'll face my demons tomorrow.