The Rogue Hunter (27 page)

"No one," she said dryly. "Apparently there was no one available to give me an accounting of what's being done, again. I guess Babcock's call to 'friends' didn't help at all."

"It's early yet," Mortimer pointed out. "It may still work."

"Hmm," Sam murmured.

Finished donning his sandals, Mortimer stood, caught her hand in his, and led her to the door.

"Where are we going?" she asked with surprise.

"To walk off some of that worry and anger I see bubbling under your skin," he said dryly.

Sam opened her mouth, probably to protest that she should stay at the cottage as she had promised to do, but he forestalled her by adding, "You have your cell if someone calls, and it's better than pacing this tiny cottage waiting to hear something."

She glanced down at the phone in her hand with surprise. Apparently she hadn't realized she was still clutching it in her white-knuckled fingers. Sam stared at it briefly and then gave in with a little sigh and slid the phone into the pocket of her shorts.

Mortimer felt himself relax at her easy compliance. He'd expected a bit more of a battle, but he would have won it anyway. He could be stubborn when he had to be, and it seemed to him, Sam needed someone to be stubborn with her. From what her sisters had said and what he'd learned from her in their conversations, it seemed obvious that she worked too hard and played too little. She could do with a little fun and relaxation, and he was just the man to give her that.

Well, at least he wanted to be, Mortimer thought wryly. He wasn't exactly a party animal himself. In fact, both those comments could have been applied to him as well. But he didn't like seeing it in Sam. He wanted to ease her burden a bit and see her happy, Mortimer thought as he led her along a trail near the cottage. "You were out last night," Sam continued several minutes later.

Mortimer glanced at her, happy to see that she was beginning to let go of her anger and looked a little more relaxed. The walking strategy was working, though it had taken a bit of time to do so. They were a good distance along the trail he'd chosen, one of many they'd found wended through the property. The cottage was out of sight now, and all he could see were trees and more trees. Those trees were she only reason he was out here. They were like a canopy overhead, protecting him from the sun. He could safely be out in the daylight here, which was a nice experience.

"Mortimer?" Sam said, reminding him that he hadn't replied to her comment.

Mortimer hesitated about how to respond, and then finally said, "I was restless. I thought a drive might relax me and help me to get to sleep."

"It was a long drive," she muttered, and he didn't deny it. It had taken forever for him to find the four donors who supplied him with enough blood to make him feel safe to be around Sam again. He couldn't tell her that, though.

"If you heard your return, you must have still been awake too," he said instead.

Sam flushed. "I had trouble getting to sleep."

"So did I, despite the drive," he admitted wryly, and then unthinkingly added, "I'm not used to going to bed so early."

Sam's eyebrows flew up. "Really? It must have been after two or maybe even three o'clock in the morning by the time you returned."

Mortimer was grimacing over his slip when she added, "Although I guess being in a band must be a wild life-style. You're probably all hyped up after a show, too wound up to sleep. You guys probably party until dawn when you're on tour."

Sam was looking troubled as she said that, probably comparing their very different lifestyles, he realized, and then acknowledged to himself that their lifestyles were very different. But no for the reasons she thought. He was constantly on the road, chasing after rogues or performing some other task for the Council, while she lived in Toronto and worked at the same place every day. He fed on the blood of mortals, and she was one of those mortals he fed on. In fact, if she'd ever donated blood, he might very well have ingested it at some point. That wasn't likely, but it wasn't impossible other.

"You must find it very boring up here," she commented suddenly, sounding worried.

"Boring?" Mortimer came to a startled halt and pulled her in front of him. Releasing her hand then, he clasped her face between his palms and assured her, "I haven't had a boring moment since meeting you."

Sam's mouth parted in pleased surprise at the words, and Mortimer immediately took advantage. He covered her mouth with his, his tongue immediately slipping out to move between her parted lips. Much to his satisfaction, she didn't resist, but breathed a little sigh of pleasure and slipped hands around his shoulders as he shifted his own arms around her waist to draw her closer.

Mortimer deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth until she moaned and tightened her arms eagerly around his neck. When she shifted, her pelvis rubbing against him, Mortimer couldn't resist letting his hands drop to her behind to clasp her there. He pulled her up tight against himself until he was holding all her negligible weight and her feet dangled just above the ground. He then eased slowly forward off the trail, aiming for the tree he knew was just a few feet behind her.

When he felt the bark of the tree brush against the backs of his hands, he shifted his hold and pinned her up against the tree with his lower body so that she had no doubt of his complete lack of boredom and his hands were free to explore.

Mortimer had done a good deal of exploring their first night here, and he was eager to strip her naked and look her over in daylight. He didn't want to rush and scare her off, however, so started by shifting his hands between their upper bodies to cover her breasts through her T-shirt.

Sam immediately groaned into his mouth and arched, pushing the tiny buds into his touch. When he concentrated on the nipples, tugging at them lightly through the cotton, she gasped and then began to suck almost frantically at his tongue, pulling on his hair at the same time. Mortimer chuckled, enjoying how responsive she was, and then slid one knee between both of hers and urged it upward until his upper thigh rubbed against her core through her shorts. That made her go a little crazy. He could feel it, her exploding desire flowing into him and exciting him as well.

Little mewls of pleasure were slipping from her mouth to is as she moved her hands down to clasp his ass and urge him on until the scent of her excitement permeated the air around them. Mortimer inhaled that scent and then broke their kiss and reached for the button of her shorts, asking in a growl, "Have you ever made love in the woods?"

Sam shook her head breathlessly.

"Do you want to?" he growled as the button slid free. She started to nod, but then paused, eyes widening, and shook her head frantically.

"No?" Mortimer asked with surprise, his hand freezing on her zipper.

"Bare," came her answer in a squeak.

"Yes, we'd both have to be bare," he said with a laugh. "Not bare naked," she gasped. "Bear bear. Furry bear. Bear!"

Mortimer turned to look where she was pointing. For one moment, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was a bear. The damned thing wasn't ten feet away. How the hell had it gotten so close without his hearing?

"Mortimer," Sam hissed, bringing his attention to the fact that he was just standing there, staring at the creature who—while much larger than a leech and much less slimy—was ruining yet another attempt to make love to Sam. Would he never have her?

"Hell," he muttered, and briefly considered doing something to scare the animal off. Something like punching it in the nose would be good, he thought viciously. Frustrated and mad as he was, Mortimer was sure he could take the bear. He was so pissed at that moment that he thought he could take a pair of them, but doing so would reveal more to Sam than he was ready for, and the moment was ruined anyway. She wasn't likely to want to continue out here in the woods whether this bear was gone or not. Another might come along, or the sky would open up and dump dead frogs on them, he thought dryly. He just wasn't having any luck at all with the outdoors.

"Mort—" Sam began, but he brought an end to this latest hiss by whirling back to face her. Catching her by the waist, he hefted her over his shoulder and then headed back the way they'd come at a dead run, hoping that Sam was too distracted by her worries of being bear brunch to notice that he was moving much faster than a mortal should.

"You… can't… out… run… bears," Sam managed to get out as she bounced along over his shoulder and Mortimer took a moment to hope that he wasn't doing her any damage jarring her repeatedly in the stomach like this, but then decided if she could talk, he probably wasn't hurting her.

"Do you see the bear?" he asked in response to her question.

There was a pause, and he felt her nails dig into his back as she tried to lever herself up to look back up the trail behind them.

"No," she admitted, managing to sound surprised despite her position.

"Good," Mortimer muttered, and wondered if he'd outrun the bear, or it just hadn't bothered to give chase. He suspected it was the latter. The bear hadn't looked terribly aggressive, just kind of hungry and maybe a little curious as it had ambled toward them. In truth, he didn't care either way how it had been left behind.

The damned animal had already done the damage and wrecked what had looked to be a very promising moment.

Sighing, he adjusted his pace, slowing to a jog, then a walk before stopping and easing Sam off his shoulder and back to her feet.

Eyeing her flushed face with worry, Mortimer steadied her as she swayed before him, and asked, "Are you all right?"

Sam clutched at his arms for balance as she oriented herself, but nodded. "Yes. Fine," she breathed, and then added wryly, "I'm alive and uneaten, at any rate."

Mortimer smiled at her quick recovery, but gave her another moment to regain herself before slowly urging her to start walking. They had taken several steps when a groan from her drew his attention. Glancing down, he noted her miserable expression. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she assured him, and then admitted, "But Mother Nature seems to hate me. Perhaps we should avoid doing this sort of thing out of doors from now on."

"Amen to that," Mortimer muttered, and then laughed at himself and the situation and pulled her into his side for a hug, before urging her to move again. They had walked another few feet before he teased huskily, "In that case, I'd really like to get back to the cottage."

Chapter Fourteen

Sam frowned as they left the cover of the trees moments later and stepped out—not by the cottage where they were staying—but near the main house instead. It appeared Mortimer had somehow taken a wrong turn during that wild dash back. She sighed as she spotted the O.P.P. cruiser parked in the driveway and the open door of the house. It looked like the cottage would have to wait.

"I suppose I should find out what's happening," she said reluctantly. She really didn't want to deal with Belmont just then, but knew she had to.

"Yes," Mortimer agreed and then gave her hand a squeeze, drawing her gaze up to his gentle smile. "It's all right. We have plenty of time."

Sam relaxed a little and even managed a small smile as she walked with him to the house, but her smile soon slipped when they entered to find Belmont sitting on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter, laughing at something another officer was saying. It seemed obvious that Mr. Babcock's call to "friends" either hadn't achieved anything, or its effects hadn't yet reached Belmont. This didn't look like investigating to her.

"Oh." Sergeant Belmont's smile died and he stood up as she and Mortimer crossed the room to stand before him. Looking grim now, he nodded and announced, "I came by to give you an update, but you weren't around."

"We were taking a walk," she said calmly. "You should have called the number I gave you, Sergeant. I took my cell phone."

"Hmm," Belmont grunted and then announced, "I've put out a missing person's report across Canada."

Sam nodded and waited to hear what else he'd done… and waited. When he just stood there, she peered at him with disbelief and asked, "And that's it?"

Belmont immediately stiffened up like a bantam rooster about to crow and then snapped belligerently, "Well what the hell do you expect me to do? We've examined the scene. Our crime scene guy took fingerprints and we're running those." He paused and scowled before adding, "Which reminds me, did you two touch anything?"

Sam and Mortimer shook their heads. She'd barely brushed the door and it had slid open. She hadn't touched anything inside except when she'd poked the cheese, and Sam didn't think they'd probably printed that.

"Nothing but the keys," she assured him and then asked, "Did you speak to the Latimers' neighbors?"

"What about?" he asked with surprise. "They wouldn't have seen anything. All these properties are big
wooded
lots, built for privacy. There's no use talking to them."

"Maybe, but you could
try
," Sam said, so exasperated she didn't realize she was yelling. "It only takes a minute and they may have seen an unusual person in the area or noticed a car that didn't belong as they were arriving or leaving."

Belmont blew out an irritated breath. "Fine. I'll go talk to the damned neighbors, but it will be a waste of time."

He started stomping toward the door and then paused and turned back to return and slap a key into her hand. "That Babcock fellow left a message saying the Latimers were returning today. Give them the house key. And lock up as you leave," he snapped, and then whirled away and strode out of the house. The other officer paused long enough to give them an apologetic look, but then hurried after him.

"What an irritating, bloated, self-important twit," Sam growled as the door closed behind the departing men.

"I'd have to agree with that assessment," Mortimer said lightly, and Sam glanced at him, surprised to see he was smiling.

"How can you be so amused?" she asked with amazement. "That man makes me furious."

"I know, and you're scary in a kind of adorable way when your dander's up," he explained, moving closer. "I've never seen a man pale like he did when you started bellowing."