Fire Dancer (Spellbound in Sedona #2)

Chapter Twenty

PIPPA

I woke up slowly, relishing the warmth of my bed — and Ingo. He was wrapped around me, with one hand over my belly and one thumb stroking my skin. So, he was awake too.

Awake, happy, but preoccupied, just like me.

I rolled to face him, and we each mustered a smile.

“Good morning,” I whispered, keeping tight hold of his hand.

He kissed my knuckles. “Morning to you too.”

I gazed into his eyes, wondering. Wishing. But neither took me in a good direction, so I shut my eyes and snuggled in, listening to his steady heartbeat. The day ahead, I sensed, would be a doozy, and I intended to tank up on calm while I could.

Which worked surprisingly well. So well, I started to wonder if we might actually make us work again someday. Ingo didn’t shoot out of bed to rush back to hunting bad guys, and I didn’t feel the usual lethargy that made it hard for me to get into gear most mornings.

On the contrary, I had a whole mental list of missions to be accomplished, though they were all tempered by the why rush off? feeling that came with the afterglow of stunningly good sex. So, while I wasn’t capable of heading out yet, I did prioritize my agenda.

Item one, breakfast, combined with strategizing with Ingo.

Item two, a quick round of chores on the ranch, while working out the details of that strategy.

Item three, heading out to wreak my revenge on Victor Jananovich.

Item four, live happily ever after?

Outside, the sun was just over the horizon, and the horses roamed quietly in their paddock. I listened, trying the mindfulness thing, but I could sense a dark cloud slowly gliding in over the horizon.

“You’re frowning,” Ingo observed quietly, cupping my cheek.

Maybe. Still, what a treat to have him within whisper-distance so early in the morning.

“Not at you. I’m thinking of Victor Jananovich.”

Ingo arched an eyebrow. “I’ll try not to take it personally that you’re thinking of him while in bed with me.”

“You know what I mean.”

He chuckled a little, then sighed. “I do. And sorry. I think I finally get how you feel now.”

My brow furrowed. “How?”

“Waking up with someone whose mind is on the bad guys definitely puts a damper on the fun.”

My throat went all dry, and I blinked back tears.

“I didn’t mean to—”

Ingo pressed a finger to my lips. “Not an accusation. More like a look in the mirror.”

I gulped. Hard.

“I’m sorry. I really am,” I said. “Now I understand how hard it is for you to turn off work. Especially knowing the bad guy is still out there, ready to hurt someone.”

Ingo nodded. “It is hard. I definitely need more practice in switching off.”

I thought for a moment, then pointed outside. “How about we give ourselves until the sun is over the fence line?”

“Is that your alarm clock?” He grinned, stroking my side until his eyes sparkled. “Whatever will we do to distract ourselves until then?”

I chuckled. “Oh, I have a few ideas…”

More than a few, as it turned out. I stroked his side, then his steely rear. Then…other places. Ingo guided me around, and soon, I found myself straddling him, my body rippling over his, my pulse quickening.

Ingo tilted his head back and lowered his eyes to half-mast, succumbing to sheer pleasure.

As good as it felt, I found myself straining for something just out of reach. Then, in a brilliant lightbulb moment, I stopped and leaned to one side.

Ingo’s eyes popped open in a question.

“Remember this one?” I rose and swung a leg around, swiveling over him.

He groaned when we lost contact, then growled when we reconnected, now in reverse cowgirl. The view wasn’t as good for me, but Ingo seemed to enjoy his, and the angle was just what I needed.

“Oh yeah,” he murmured, all throaty. “I remember.”

As teens, we’d gotten hold of a magazine illustrating different sex positions, and we’d tried out every one. Some left us laughing too hard to muster any passion, while others had us moaning. Most turned out to be too complicated for anyone but a contortionist. We’d usually resorted to three tried and true positions: missionary, cowgirl, and wolf-style, as Ingo liked to call it.

Back then, as diligent students, we’d checked reverse cowgirl off the list and moved on. But now…

My body heated, and rapture filled my mind the way bright fog lit up the creek on beautiful spring mornings.

“Gorgeous…” Ingo hummed.

Yeah, the view definitely worked for him. I made a mental note to keep up the tight tummy/flat fanny exercises I’d found in that online video.

I braced my arms on his muscled legs and pressed down, mumbling incoherently. The inner thigh exercises were coming in handy too.

I leaned forward, grinding my hips. And when Ingo reached around and touched me—

My breath cut off, and my whole body jolted.

I moaned, moving faster.

Ingo’s breaths came louder and rougher, telling me he was close too. I closed my eyes, grinding more deeply. Then I threw my head back, swept away by an intense wave.

Ingo hissed, coming at the same time, and ecstasy locked us in that position for a while.

Seconds — minutes? — later, I wiggled slowly around to face Ingo. Once cleaned off and snuggled in, I chuckled.

“If we knew then what we knew now…”

Ingo laughed. “A good thing we didn’t. We would have turned into addicts.” Then his eyes sparkled. “Maybe we should try out some of those other positions we gave up on. There might be another gem among them.”

I laughed, then went serious, gazing into his eyes. Maybe position wasn’t the deciding factor. Maybe it was maturity and lessons learned the hard way.

Of course, I would be happy to test his theory. Most thoroughly.

I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly. Maybe if we gave ourselves another chance…

Outside, the horses nickered, and I sighed. The sun was over the fence line — already.

In the distance, footsteps crunched over gravel, and car doors squeaked open.

“Oh! Isn’t that Ingo’s car?” I heard Claire chirp.

“Looks like.” Even from this distance, Abby’s disapproval came through loud and clear.

“Did they have a sleepover?”

Ingo grinned. I buried my face in the pillow.

“Maybe,” Abby grumbled.

“Definitely,” Ingo murmured, kissing me.

Outside, Abby changed the subject. “Come on, sweetie. Time to go to school.”

Whatever Claire said next was lost in the sound of the car starting, thank goodness.

Still, I kept my face hidden until the sound of the engine disappeared down the driveway.

Ingo tapped my back. “The coast is clear.”

I shook my head without turning. The coast was never clear when you shared a property with your sisters. Even when the property was a ranch with hundreds of acres.

At least Erin was out. Ballooning was an early-morning business.

“Come on, sleeping beauty.” Ingo tugged on my shoulder.

I sat up slowly, then met his gaze.

At first, we smiled, but then my thoughts turned to Stacy, and my heart went all heavy.

Ingo kissed me again, then swung his legs resolutely over the side of the bed. “All right, then. Time to bring down the bad guys. Or make a plan anyway.”

* * *

We brainstormed while going about my morning chores. Ingo was a star, helping me feed the horses and check the cattle without so much as a grumble. He helped with breakfast and cleaned up afterward too.

The kind of morning I could get used to, if it hadn’t been for the dark cloud hanging over it. A cloud that got darker the longer we threw out ideas. And the longer we did that, the more I was convinced I had a solution.

Yet Ingo shot it down every time, with the same reason.

“Too risky.”

“It’s the least risky.”

“It’s not like Jananovich will leave evidence lying around for the catering crew to find,” Ingo pointed out. “At least, nothing compelling enough for the agency to use as an excuse to charge in.”

“If the timing is right, there will be evidence. Believe me.”

My mind played out gratifying images of law enforcement agents busting in at the height of a blood orgy, just in time to save innocent people and put away the bad guys, without risking their own lives. That’s what happened in the movies, right?

I made a mental note to pitch the idea to a Hollywood agent someday. It was brilliant.

On the downside, I had the sneaking suspicion real life and Hollywood mirrored each other about as well as horses and pigs.

“If the timing is wrong, I lose my job and Jananovich goes free,” Ingo growled. “Or worse, another person ends up dead.” He pinned me with a significant look that said, Someone like you.

For some reason, that didn’t worry me. But my heart bled when I thought of Stacy, Janet Sullivan, and their families.

My hands formed fists. It was time to put Jananovich away for good. Hell, I would plant evidence if I had to and call the agency with an anonymous tip.

The latter was actually an echo of our first backup plan — to ask Kyle Williams, Arizona law enforcement officer, to call the ADMSA with an urgent request for immediate agency intervention. But the wolves of Twin Moon pack were loath to get involved — with the agency or with vampires — for fear of opening a Pandora’s box that would plague their peaceful little corner of paradise.

I would really have to visit one day, if they let me. I made that my second mental note of the morning. Plus, it was positive thinking. Visiting Twin Moon Ranch one day meant I would survive my plunge into a pool of sharks. (Ingo’s inspiring analogy, not my own.)

“I’ve already been to La Puebla once,” I pointed out. “I survived that.”

Ingo scowled. Well, that was better than him flipping out the way he had earlier, when I’d admitted to dropping in on Victor Jananovich.

“Once is already too many times,” he grumbled.

“I doubt I taste good anyway,” I joked, but it went flat.

“It’s not just the taste the vampires are after,” Ingo said. “It’s the power infusing the blood. Especially magical power. The stronger the victim, the bigger the boost their blood gives the vampire.”

I felt strangely comforted, because I hardly had any magic powers.

Then I remembered the bonfire.

I gulped. I’d never wittingly conjured any real power, but sometimes it happened unintentionally. Not a very useful kind of power — not to me anyway. But to a vampire…

I stuck my hands on my hips. “Do you have a better idea?”

I knew he didn’t, because his best idea had been him sneaking in. Jananovich’s security would be all over him in a New York minute, whereas I’d already been let in once. Plus, Ingo had law enforcement written all over him. I was just innocent ol’ me.

I fluttered my eyelashes at Ingo to reinforce the point.

Five minutes later, I was on the phone while Ingo listened in, not at all pleased.

“Hi, Nancy. It’s Pippa. Sorry for the late notice, but I’d love to help with that catering job today.” I waited, then nodded smugly to Ingo. “Yes, exactly. The easy in-and-out job.” I waited again, then smiled into the phone. “Perfect. See you soon.”