Moonlight, The Next Chapter: Darkness

Chapter 4

Conspiracies

Intro Song: Conspiracy, Paramore

"Jamie... slow... slow down! Now, start again... what happened?!"

"Carl, he's here!" The terrified woman's voice was a low, frightened hiss.

"Who's there? Ben? He's supposed to be there! You aren't making any sense!" Carl Davis was filled with concern. Jamie Sommers may be enigmatic, even evasive, but she was never irrational. At least not that you've seen so far… Her call had come out of the blue. They hadn't talked all week and when she hadn't answered her cell phone, he'd called the ADA's office yesterday, trying to reach her, only to be told that she was taking personal time and wasn't expected back before Friday afternoon, if at all. This disappearing act was unlike her – as far as you know – and he'd grown increasingly concerned.

If he could see the frantic young woman now, he'd be even more concerned. Jamie was slumped down on her chair, hiding behind the half wall of her cubicle, silently cursing the fact that she didn't have an office. Someplace with a door. Someplace safe.

Part of her - the rational part - told her that there was no reason for Christophe Durand to have had any personal knowledge of her from her relatively brief time working for CHOIR. She had been an extremely low rung on that particular ladder. And how would he have known that she was working here, across the country, in the L.A.'s ADA office? No, the rational part said she hadn't needed to call Davis, fearful for her life.

Still, her departure had been abrupt and who knew what might have caught his attention - and she'd seen enough to convince her that Durand was resourceful, ruthless, even...

"Psycho. The guy's psycho, Carl," she whispered into her phone, covering her mouth with her hand. It was just her bad luck that she had come in, hoping to catch Beth for a minute before she left for the weekend. Jamie had stopped in because she needed to push her friend to arrange a meeting with Mick. She'd been floored when she spotted Christophe Durand, standing in the hall with Dickbot. He was the last person she would have expected to see there.

"WHO IS THERE? TALBOT?" The detective shouted in his frustration. He couldn't tell if Jamie was in real danger or... Or what? What the hell is going on with her?!

She choked down the near-hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble out. "No!" she hissed. "Durand! And he's here!" Peeking around the corner of her cubicle wall, she saw the Crucis leader now deep in conversation with Ben Talbot as they headed to the ADA's office. Beth was nowhere to be seen. What did he do with Beth, she thought for a wild moment before getting herself under control. Christophe Durand may be a psychopath, but he wasn't stupid enough to try anything with Beth Turner right under the ADA's nose.

"Hang on a minute, Carl." Jamie whispered, picking up the office phone and dialing Beth's extension. After a half-dozen rings, it rolled over into the civilian investigator's voicemail. Carefully, she hung the receiver up and put her cell phone back up to her ear, her voice still a whisper, but calmer. "She's not here...must have gone home early…"

"Jamie!" Frustrated, Carl shouted into the phone, louder than he'd intended. He'd just stepped out of the shower when she called and was standing stark-naked in his bedroom, dripping water in a widening pool on the floor. "Who are you talking about? What the hell is going on?!" He reached around the corner into his bathroom to snag a towel and wrap it around his muscular body, tucking it securely at his waist. You aren't going to help by shouting at her…

In a quieter voice, he tried again. "I don't understand what's happening. I don't hear from you all week and now you're acting as if someone is threatening you! Talk to me. I want to help but you need to help me understand."

Peeking around the corner of her cubicle, Jamie stared up at Christophe Durand's broad back, just a few short feet away as he walked into Ben Talbot's office with the ADA. "I can't right now, Carl. I have to get out of here before he sees me." The panic was back in her voice again. "Can I- can I come over?"

"You pretty much have to now, Jamie." A note of amusement crept into the detective's voice. "After a call like this, you've got some explaining to do."

Disconnecting the call, Davis tossed the phone onto the bed and headed back into the bathroom. Pulling the towel off his midsection, he rubbed at his short hair, staring into the mirror. "Could your life get any crazier"" he asked his reflection. Don't answer that. With a rueful shake of his head, the detective began dressing. He had a lot of things on his 'to do' list and wanted them out of the way before Jamie showed up. His curiosity was certainly piqued by her mysterious call - but he was also looking forward just to seeing her again more than he cared to admit.

"Thank you for arranging that meeting with Miss Turner, Ben." Christophe Durand sat rigidly upright in the straight chair opposite the ADA's desk. The Crucis leader did not believe in the slouching, informal posture adopted by most young people these days. He eyed the young man lounging behind his desk and mentally shook his head. Disgraceful.

Gathering his thoughts, he continued. "A lovely young woman, albeit under a good bit of stress right now. I hope you are doing everything in your power to accommodate her." Durand leaned forward in his chair to emphasize the point. Not for a moment did he believe that Talbot was handling Beth Turner appropriately, but that was not a topic he had the time to tackle right now beyond a mild chastisement. "I think you would do well to treat her with kid gloves, Ben. She's very...fragile...right now and the last thing you need is to have her complaining about her treatment from the ADA who was involved in the, ah, situation that led to her boyfriend's near death."

Talbot opened his mouth to respond to what he felt was unfair criticism, but Durand waved him off.

"I apologize; I was out of line with that comment. Please know I have only your best interests at heart. I do believe she will try to arrange for me to see Mr. St. John as well. Now, what about Carl Davis? You were checking on that for me..."

"I'm sorry, Christophe. He's still on leave. I tried to reach him, but he won't even answer my calls right now."

The CHOIR CEO frowned. "A subordinate who refuses your calls? Even if he is on leave, is that kind of behavior condoned here, Ben?" His tone conveyed his disapproval.

Talbot flushed. Damn you, Carl. "No, of course not. But while he's on leave, my options are limited. This isn't the private sector, Christophe. Although," he added, "I'm not sure it would be allowed even there."

Durand snorted derisively. "I will have to introduce you to my world, Ben. In it, I am king." He caught himself. Ben was not yet part of that world, although he certainly might fit in quite well. It wouldn't do to reveal too much right now, though. "I mean," he amended, "I would like to think that I am, but you are right. What I'd like to do and what I'm allowed to do are often two different things." He threw in a theatrical sigh for good measure.

After a long moment of silence, he added, "You have to forgive me. I'm older than you and I come from a more 'old school' approach to the employer/employee relationship. My HR head is working with me, but sometimes I think even she secretly throws up her hands."

Ben smiled, but said nothing. Inwardly, he was still seething at the earlier comments, but it wouldn't do to make an enemy of this obviously well-connected, powerful man. Edward would have his head if he did. Besides, he owed the man. Stay cool.

Christophe shook his head ruefully. "I blame it on my start in the seminary - that wasn't exactly a democratic society. I've never even spoken with Edward about it."

Ben was intrigued in spite of himself. "I didn't know that! Edward never mentioned it when he told me about you." He found that curious since the two were such old friends.

"He doesn't know. I don't usually bring it up. People often look at me and treat me differently once they know it - and I don't like to use it as a crutch to rationalize my behavior. I have to admit, however, that it probably left a lasting impact on me. Perhaps more than I know."

"Just so long as it doesn't cause you to do something where I have to bring you up on charges," Ben quipped.

There was an edge to his humor that Durand caught immediately. Perhaps I misjudged him. There might be a spine underneath that well-cut suit after all. Yes, Mr. Talbot might yet make a good addition to the Crucis effort...

Beth let herself silently into the penthouse. Why she bothered to be quiet, she had no idea. It wasn't like she stood a snowball's chance in hell of sneaking up on a vampire.

The immortal in question lay stretched out full-length on the leather couch, his head propped up on one arm as he studied the book in front of him, engrossed. Michael Bublé sang softly in the background. She eased the door shut behind her, wincing at the sharp click the latch made.

Tiptoeing in, Beth caught sight of her lover. Clad in faded jeans and a v-necked dark blue t-shirt, a shadow of beard on a face framed by waves of thick, dark hair, she thought that Mick looked more relaxed, more... at peace... than she had seen him in a long time. As she watched, his nostrils flared slightly and a slow smile appeared on his face. Without taking his eyes off the page, he said, "I like your new perfume. What's it called?"

Beth's answering smile was dazzling. "Euphoria."

That got the vampire's attention. Removing the toothpick he had been chewing on, Mick stuck it into the pages as a makeshift bookmark before springing effortlessly to his feet. He strolled over to meet her, taking her in his arms and nuzzling her hair. "Appropriate," he breathed.

Beth shivered. Just his breath on her hair, his deep voice murmuring in her ear, was enough to send a thrill down her spine and tie her stomach in knots. And the tuft of dark chest hair that showed in the 'v' of his t-shirt - she couldn't take her eyes off that bit of hair...

Since their return from Temecula, she had fallen into a habit of daydreaming about Mick, her fantasies taking on increasingly erotic tones as the week wore on. Their enforced celibacy, mandated by Dr. Spector's conservative approach to the vampire's recovery, had been almost as hard on her as it had been on Mick.

Almost.

Mick could feel himself growing hard against Beth, despite his best efforts to restrain himself. If I don't get to have sex with her soon, I'm going to self-combust. Her scent, augmented by the perfume, the feel of her breasts pushed up against him, her silken skin beneath his fingertips... he groaned as he swayed with his arms wrapped around her, his face still buried in her hair.

"Are you alright?" Beth pulled away slightly to get a good look at him, peering up at him worriedly.

Mick brushed her lips with his and pulled her close again. He didn't linger on her mouth. He didn't dare. Just that touch, that taste, was enough to make him harder, put him at war with himself. With a shaky laugh, he admitted, "Nothing that sex with you wouldn't cure."

"Mick-"

"I know, I know. A week. I know." The scent of her arousal, the pheromones a secret she didn't even realize she shared with him, was making it hard for him to think. "I need a drink," he announced, reluctantly letting his arms fall to his sides.

"Me too." Beth's voice was husky. Her eyes, normally the color of the sky, were dark, the pupils enlarged as she unconsciously licked her lips.

God, don't do that! Mick turned away and busied himself with pouring each of them a generous measure of scotch, unsure of what he'd done in his life to deserve this torment. Sure, he'd killed a few people here and there, but did it warrant this punishment?

"Thank you," Beth murmured, accepting the heavy glass and immediately downing a healthy swig.

Mick cocked one eyebrow. "So," he said, amused, "it's like that, is it?"

"Yep." Beth knocked back the rest of her drink and held out the glass for a refill. "It's just like that."

"Bad day?"

Beth grimaced. "You spend all day in the same office as Ben Talbot and see what you think. He makes every day a bad one."

"Well, you know how I feel about that. I'd be happy if you never went back. I don't think it will do us much good anyway." He poured another healthy serving of scotch into Beth's glass and dropped in a handful of ice cubes.

"You don't?" Beth leaned back against the black granite counter, swirling the amber liquid in her glass as she waited for his answer. They hadn't really talked about this since she'd gone back to work - each had been too bruised from the heated arguments they'd had over it before her first day.

"No. I told you I don't happen to think that Talbot had anything to do with what happened to me. He's ambitious and he saw a chance to get some good press if his men could solve those crimes for the San Diego cops. That's all. Josef is just paranoid, as always."

"Then how did they know that you're a vampire? They had to know, they used silver ammunition!" Beth set her glass down on the island with more force than she'd intended as unwanted images of Mick, his body torn by the silver bullets his would-be assassins had used, flitted through her head.

Mick frowned and drained his own glass. "That I don't know. Yet. But I'm damn sure that Ben Talbot doesn't know I'm a vampire - and I just don't think the ambush had anything to do with him."

"Then maybe I don't need to be there anymore," Beth suggested hopefully.

"I'm not gonna tell you what to do. That never works anyway." Mick paused, grinning as she stuck her tongue out at him. "Even though I don't think Talbot is a bad guy - maybe a dick, but not a bad guy - I hate to admit that Josef is probably right about it being helpful to have you there, keeping an eye on what's happening, telling us what you hear. If it's too unpleasant, though..." He shrugged and poured himself another drink, watching her out of the corner of one eye.

Beth knew she was being played but... With a sigh, she admitted, " No, you're right. I know it's good for me to be there. I just- I just want to slug him every time I see him!"

A smile tugged at the corner of Mick's mouth. "That will not get you a good performance review."

They both laughed.

"Oh!" Beth said, putting down her glass. "I almost forgot; I have a surprise for you." She ran over to the purse she had dropped on the floor beside the stairs. Pulling a bag out, she tossed it to the vampire. "Here you go."

Mick pulled out a DVD case, a slow smile spreading across his face when he read the title.

Beth peered anxiously into his face. "That was your favorite Fred Astaire movie, right? Daddy Longlegs?"

"Yep," he responded, his voice a little unsteady. "Beth, I haven't seen this in years. It's very sweet of you."

"No problem," the young woman replied cheerfully. "I figured it would give us something to do tonight, since it's our last night before...well, you know." She grinned impishly and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

"Before what?" Mick asked with false innocence, looking down at her blue eyes, eyes he could get lost in, eyes he was lost in. He pulled her back into his arms. "Thanks for my present," he said quietly into her hair, touched that she had remembered their brief conversation about the movie. He wasn't used to any woman being that attuned to him - and it felt wonderful.

"You're welcome." Beth pulled his head down to hers for a kiss that started out as a light touching of lips, but quickly escalated into a heated, open-mouthed embrace, their mouths and bodies pressed tightly together with want. She suddenly realized she was unconsciously grinding her hips against his responding groin and broke away, blushing furiously. "Sorry," she whispered.

"For what? Oh, you mean for this?" Grinning, Mick gestured down at the bulge in his pants. He bent his head down to whisper in her ear. "I had that the minute you walked through the front door."

Beth's face was now beet red. Thankfully, she was saved from the need for a response by the sound of her cell phone.

"Now what?" Gratefully, she dove into her bag, coming up with the buzzing phone. Turning back to Mick, she said, "It's Simone. She called earlier too. I hope nothing is wrong."

Beth answered the call. "Simone, hi. Sorry I couldn't pick up earlier when you called; I was driving. Is everything okay?" She listened for a moment, walking toward the couch and setting her glass down on the coffee table as the lawyer continued. Her blue eyes opened wider and wider as her friend talked. Finally, she broke in, sputtering, "Are you serious?!"

Oh-oh. Mick, openly eavesdropping, knew that tone. Someone, somewhere, was on Beth's shit list - he could only hope that it didn't involve him. The vampire poured another finger of scotch into his glass to fortify himself and waited for her to end the conversation.

"Well, he's got a surprise coming, then. Thanks for the heads-up, Simone. Talk to you later." Ending the call, she snatched up her glass, draining the rest of her drink and coughing slightly as the strong alcohol burned the back of her throat.

Turning to look at Mick, she blurted, "I'm going to kill Josef!"