And Balor was close. First the wolf attack and now the murder. He doubted that Sara had gotten ill on one drink. He suspected that Caldwell had slipped something into it, although he couldn’t prove it, since Sara had refused to go a doctor. Drugging women to make them compliant disgusted him. Strike One, as the Americans said. If Caldwell were somehow linkedto his grandfather, that would be Strike Two. Gavin was still working on that. If Lucas ever found out that Caldwell was behind the slaying of that old man, he would release the wolf with pleasure.
But first the Hallows must be found. After the murder and whatever had transpired at lunch with Caldwell, he didn’t want to leave Sara alone. He knew she had a gun, she’d showed it to him before they left, but a gun wouldn’t stop Balor.
He’d have to take her with him. But how he was going to manage to keep things platonic, when even now he grew hard thinking of her, he didn’t know.
****
“So it was going to be a little ‘afternoon delight’, yes?” Baylor asked Caldwell from the recesses of the hot tub in the private men’s club of his hotel.
Caldwell fidgeted with the jacket he’d taken off, the steam from the water forming beads of perspiration on his forehead. “The drugs were working. She’d agreed to let me take her home.”
“And you let Ramsey get in your way.” Again. He was getting tired of the Templar. Something would have to be done about him.
“I didn’t have much choice.”
Baylor contemplated him with his good eye while he took a slow sip of cognac. Waited long enough until he could see sweat rolling off Caldwell’s face and staining the armpits of his shirt.
“Warm?” he asked impassively.
“Yeah. It’s…it’s hot in here.” Caldwell stammered.
They keep the room at a friggin’ sixty-eight degrees because of the tub.He knew damn well why Caldwell was sweating. He had failed him. And men paid for that. Caldwell knew it.
“Then take off your clothes and join me,” he said.
“Ah…no, thanks. Maybe I could just wait for you outside?” Caldwell took a step backward toward the door.
“It wasn’t a request.”
Caldwell stared at him and, for a moment, Baylor actually thought he might refuse. Adrenaline surged through him. None of his quarries ever got away. By the demons he commanded, was his prey going to give him cause for chase? He needed to be brought to heel. He lifted the patch over his eye slightly and turned toward the man.
Caldwell doubled over in pain, clutching his belly. “My god, I feel like a knife has been run through me,” he gasped.
Baylor smiled benignly and settled the patch back over his eye. “Sorry. It must have slipped.”
Caldwell wasn’t stupid. It didn’t take him long to figure it out. He hung the jacket on the back of the chair and took off his shirt and pants. Pulling off his socks, he started to step into the tub.
“Alan. You know the rules.Allyour clothes.” He took another sip of brandy while he watched the man’s emotions play over his face. Surprise. Shock. A flash of anger. Resentment. Caldwell had never been disciplined before. This might be even more enjoyable that he had thought.
“If I refuse?”
Baylor touched his eye patch. “How much pain can you take?”
Caldwell took a deep breath. “I know you can cause harm when you lift that eye patch. I also know you like making the victim suffer slowly. But what good am I to you dead or totally incapacitated?”
Baylor’s adrenaline surged again. By the Unseelie Court! The man had balls. He hadn’t had anyone stand up to him—really stand up to him—since Hitler. And Adolph had truly considered himself a god of equal stature. Pity. Ultimately, it cost him the war. Baylor refused to consider anyone an equal. But still, he enjoyed a game of cat-and-mouse with someone who had guts.
“What good are you to me now?”
“I can still get the copy.”
“How? If she gets sick again, she won’t blame it on a drink.”
“I have a key to her place.”
Baylor raised an eyebrow. “How did you get that?”
Caldwell allowed himself a small smile. “I didn’t know if I’d need it at some other time so I decided to take the precaution of making an indention when I put her keys in my pocket. A little modeling clay is a good thing to carry.”
