"Of course," Billy assured him. "Of course."

"Just make sure everything is locked up, okay?" Shauna said. "I'm going to try to get some sleep."

"Good night," Fiona said.

"Good night. And don't worry. I'll make sure the door is locked and the house is safe," Jagger promised.

Shauna nodded and headed up the stairs. Jagger pulled out his phone and called David Du Lac, and in moments Billy was on his way out, a happy man.

When the house was locked, Fiona said, "I was afraid you weren't going to let Billy see Abigail."

"I couldn't stop him tonight," Jagger said.

"Because--you were going to defer power to me?" she asked.

"I never even had to think about it," Jagger said. "I knew how desperate I was to see you tonight, Fiona. And I couldn't deny Billy."

She walked back into his arms.

She wasn't sure how they made it up to her bedroom.

She only knew that in minutes her flesh was against his, and his hands were on her, drawing her close. There were intense moments in which he just held her, drawing her closer and closer, as if he could pull her underneath his skin and into his very being.

Then there were moments when all that was separate and distinct between them was erotically enhanced, when his lips found the most erogenous zones of her body, when his tongue teased. And then he thrust into her, and they came together in a flood of passion and urgency, writhed and arched together with a wild and abandoned need, then climaxed ecstatically, shuddering, holding on, holding in, cradling one another as they drifted down to the coolness of the sheets and the air around them.

That night Jagger didn't sleep. He lay, staring up at the ceiling, cradling her against him in the darkness.

"I have to find the killer," he said.

"We have to find the killer," she told him. "I told you that."

He shook his head. "Not anymore. I have to find the killer--before he finds you."

Jagger was awakened by his cell phone.

It was Tony Miro.

"Jagger, I think we know the store," Tony said excitedly.

Jagger frowned, still trying to blink sleep from his eyes. He seldom needed much sleep, but when he did sleep, it was deeply.

"The store?" he murmured now.

"Where the killer bought the nightgowns. Hey, where are you?"

"On my way in. What time is it?" Jagger asked.

"Ten-fifteen," Tony told him.

Jagger tried not to groan aloud. He'd overslept.

"Where are you--that's the question. I'll be right there."

"Ooh La La," Tony told him.

"What?"

"It's the name of a shop over on Royal Street. I'm not a hundred percent certain, but...just come on down here. You'll see what I mean."

"On my way."

Jagger leaped out of bed. Fiona was still sound asleep. Apparently her sisters had decided not to interrupt the two of them.

Maybe Shauna had said a good word, because Caitlin certainly wouldn't cut him any slack. She hated the fact that he was in the house.

He showered and dressed quickly, and looked down at Fiona.

She made him tremble inwardly, constantly. He watched her sleeping, the gentle rise and fall of her breasts, the pulse at her throat. Her lips were slightly open as she hugged a pillow.

Her back was sleek and long, and every inch of her arresting and arousing. The golden spill of her hair would have stopped his heart if it still beat. He was ridiculously in love.

He pressed his lips against the gold of her hair, but she didn't waken.

He slipped out.

Afraid that if he waited longer, he would remember the killer's threat and be afraid to leave her side.

The sound of the phone was shattering, but Fiona tried to ignore it. She wanted to sleep and dream. She wanted to think of the future--of a vacation. Time away.

Long days on a beach...

Mexico, the Caribbean. Texas or Florida. Anywhere...away.

Finally she gave in and answered. David Du Lac was on the other end of the line.

"Hey," he said tensely.

"Hey what?" she asked.

"He's here," David said.

"Um--who?" Fiona asked.

"Mateas. Mateas Grenard. Jagger thinks he may be involved in all this somehow, and he wanted to know if he showed up here. Well, he's here."

"Jagger isn't with me. Did you try his phone?" she asked.

"Yes. I don't know why he isn't answering," David said, sounding worried. "I'm not sure what to do."

"David, I'm on my way over," Fiona told him.

"Wait! If he's the killer..."

"It's daytime, I'm forewarned and you'll be there. And I'll try to get hold of Jagger myself, so he can join us."

"All right," David said, sounding uncertain. "No, I'll try calling him again. You just get over here as quickly as you can. I don't like this."

Fiona said firmly, "Call Jagger's partner, and call the leprechaun--Sean O'Casey. One of them will find Jagger soon enough if he's not answering his own phone. And have some faith in me, okay? I am your Keeper, after all."

"I just don't want to lose you, kid," he said.

She smiled, though of course he couldn't see it.

"Thanks. I'm going to call August Gaudin, too. It will look like friends meeting by chance for lunch. Oh, you should call Jennie Mahoney, too. All right?"

David agreed and hung up.

Fiona bounded out of bed and into the shower. As soon as she was dressed she hurried downstairs. She found a note on the door from her sisters.

We're at the store. You stay home.

They had each signed it individually.

She left a note in return.

Love you two so much. Gone to David's.

After taping it on the door, she headed out.

Tony Miro was an excellent cop, even when given a tedious task. Jagger started off at a quick pace to meet him at Ooh La La.

The owner and shopkeeper, a woman of about thirty-five with the improbable name of Misty Mystique, was charming and determined to be helpful.

She was slim, blonde, pretty--and worriedly talking to Tony when Jagger arrived, leaving her assistant to help the customers.

Tony introduced Misty and Jagger, explained that she carried all four nightgown styles they'd found so far, and let Jagger take it from there.

"Did you sell the nightgowns yourself?" he asked. When she nodded, he said, "All to one person, or were they sold to several people?"

"Each one was sold to a different person," Misty told him, her dark brown eyes huge. "They were all men, though. Do you really think I sold one of those nightgowns to the killer?"

Jagger showed her the artist's renderings of Mateas Grenard and the unknown man from the strip club.

Her eyes widened further.

"Yes! I sold one of the nightgowns to each of these men."

"What about the others? Please, this is very important. Can you remember what they looked like? Did they pay cash, or do you have the credit card receipts?" Jagger asked.

"How odd. Every one was sold for cash," Misty told him.

"Is it possible for you to leave the store?" he asked her. "I know I'm asking a lot, but perhaps you could help our artist create sketches of the other two customers."

"Yes, of course. Except that I'm afraid to leave Lilly alone these days," she said quietly, nodding toward her assistant.

The girl was perhaps twenty-five, pretty.

And blonde.

"We'll call in an officer to keep an eye on her," Jagger promised.

"But if a cop just hangs around in here, I'm not sure I'll get any customers," she said, then sighed. "This is so terrible. Everyone is afraid and tourism is down--and I want to be smart, but I don't want to go out of business."

"Don't worry--he'll just be out on the street, in plain clothes, watching the store but not getting in the way or drawing any attention himself," Jagger assured her.

Misty agreed, so Jagger put through a call and arranged for Michael Shrine, one of the best cops and most trustworthy shapeshifters of Jagger's acquaintance, to take the assignment--and use a few of his "talents" while he was at it.

Michael could stand guard all day--and no one would ever know he was out there the whole time, much less that he was a cop.

As soon as Michael got there, Jagger, Tony and Misty headed down to the station.

It took about a couple of hours, but at the end he had a very curious bunch of sketches.

First there were the two they already had: Mateas Grenard and the unknown man from the strip club.

The third drawing was of Billy Harrington.

The fourth was of David Du Lac.

Chapter 14

Valentina was standing at the hostess desk. The luncheon courtyard had only just opened when Fiona arrived, but already Valentina was guarding her stand with buxom majesty.

"Good morning," Fiona told her. "David is expecting me."Valentina arched a brow with royal disdain. "I don't believe so."

"I spoke to him earlier. I assure you, he's expecting me," Fiona said, and stared hard at the other woman.

Valentina's eyes fell. "Look, maybe he was expecting you, but if so, he didn't tell me. And he left around half an hour ago, muttering something under his breath."

Had something happened? If so, Fiona wondered, why hadn't he called her? She checked her cell phone for missed calls. Damn! His number was listed.

"What about Mateas Grenard?" she asked.

Valentina waved a hand in the air. "I don't know. He comes here...sometimes."

"What about now?" Fiona asked. "Is he here now?"

Valentina wrinkled her nose. "So good-looking," she murmured. "But...a vampire. The vampires come and go as they please."

"All right, I'll try again. Have you seen him since you got here today?" Fiona asked.

Valentina gave it some thought. "No, I do not believe I have. But the vampires often go straight into the main room." Suddenly Valentina smiled sunnily.