Samson's Lovely Mortal Page 45

“And the most perceptive. And if Carl doesn’t show up here in the next ten minutes I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” He underscored his statement with an exasperated breath.

Delilah rubbed her thigh against his hard-on, tempting him even further.

Little minx!

“Make that five minutes,” he corrected himself and moaned.

Samson loosened his grip on her wrists, and she freed one hand to put it on the back of his neck. “Maybe I can help you pass the time.” She pulled him down and touched her lips to his. As soon as he felt her soft skin and then seconds later her moist tongue slip into his mouth, he was completely lost. For a few seconds he gave into her, returning her passionate kiss, but the urge to penetrate her was getting to be too much. With all his remaining strength, he pulled himself off her and rolled onto his back.

He sat up and moved away from her. “Okay. Here’s the deal. You stay right over there.” He pointed to one end of the floor pillows. “And I will stay on this side.”

“And then?”

“We’ll talk. Maybe I should loan you a robe.”

“A robe? So you’re done looking at me?”

“Not even close. But it might be fun to rip it off you once the condoms get here.” He could already imagine the scene. Damn, was his mind not capable of thinking of anything else but sex, or rather, sex with Delilah? He had the feeling it might take longer than one night to get this out of his system.

***

Carl pulled the limousine into the garage and got out. In two trips, he brought both the groceries and all of Delilah’s personal items into the foyer, including the flowers Samson had given her. The house was quiet except for the low voices he could hear coming from upstairs. His hearing was as sharp as Samson’s. In the kitchen he saw his boss’ note immediately. When he read it he raised his eyebrows. His boss thought of everything.

Without hesitation he moved all blood from the main fridge into the smaller one in the pantry and locked it. Delilah would not find anything out of the ordinary, and their secret would be safe. He didn’t like the idea that the woman was staying in the house, but he would be the last man to question his boss’ decisions.

Carl was absolutely devoted to Samson. His loyalty was unsurpassed, and he would give his life for him should it ever become necessary. After all, Samson had revived him when a gang of criminals had robbed him of his human life. Granted, he was now a vampire, but in Carl’s books it was better than being dead.

Carl finished filling the fridge with human food before bringing Delilah’s luggage, as well as the bunch of red roses, into the guest room. He knew she wouldn’t be staying in the room: he could hear them both in the master suite.

He paused in front of the door and set the box of condoms down when he heard Samson laugh. He hadn’t heard his boss laugh like this in a long time. He was finally happy, at least for a moment. And it would only be for a moment. What Carl had found amongst Delilah’s things when he’d packed for her concerned him. He needed to bring it to Samson’s attention.

He lifted his hand to knock at the door, but hesitated.

He remembered Samson’s explicit instructions of not wanting to be disturbed tonight, and despite his concerns, Carl didn’t have the heart to disrupt him. Samson needed a night of fun and games. It would have to wait.

Carl left the house, knowing his boss would have already heard him on the stairs. There was no need to let him know he’d executed all his wishes.

As soon as he was back in the car he dialed a number.

“Yes, Carl?” Ricky answered instantly.

“We need to talk. It’s urgent.”

“I’m with Amaury. We’re down in Dog Patch, behind the old mill.” Dog Patch, part of the Potrero Hill neighborhood of San Francisco, was one of the shadier neighborhoods in San Fran and not a place where humans liked to hang around after dark. Vampires, on the other hand, did, because it was away from the curious eyes of humans.

“Fifteen minutes.” Carl pressed harder on the accelerator, and the car shot down the hill heading for the Embarcadero.

***

“What do you mean? Was he armed?” John Reardon hissed into the cell phone. He nervously paced on this patio, constantly glancing back at the house, hoping his wife wouldn’t overhear him.

“I don’t know what happened, but I’m telling you: I’m out.”

“That wasn’t the deal, Billy. I’ve already paid you.” John’s voice was panicked now.

“And I’ve earned my money, but the bitch keeps on getting help. You told me she didn’t know anybody here, and suddenly she’s with this guy who defends her with his life? I’m telling you, there was something creepy about that guy. Don’t mess with her.”