Pete had a mask on, but I could still see his chin quivered. If he—or we—didn’t get this right—kaput!—we would be out.
The low ringing of a grandfather clock hummed through the room as the guests turned back and forth, searching out this new mystery. Bright lights flashed in tune with the thunder soundtrack—and bats! Glorious bats projected across the ceiling and walls, their screeches echoing throughout every corner of the room. I could barely hear the gasps of the guests over my amazing bats before a crash rang out. A spotlight shone on the casket that now lay shut.
Silence. Dead silence—until guests started to murmur again. That was the cue to release the evil laughter soundtrack, flash the lights, and spotlight the casket again. Lisa reached over and squeezed my hand as we waited. The sound switched from spooky noises to an organ chiming right as the casket began to open. Victor—or in this case, vampire Victor—emerged from the coffin. His beautiful vampiress models helped him out, of course. I had hired them too.
The crowd went wild. The guests rushed right to his side to kiss his ass and tell him how wonderful he was.
“How did you put together such a thing?”
“Wherever did you learn to do all of this?”
And he took credit and smiled and nodded like the royal pain in the ass he was.
Then, in two days, I would receive a bottle of rum and my final paycheck from the event with a scribbled thank you in Sara’s script.
“Fuck! That was pretty damn amazing. You rocked putting that together, Sam!” Lisa hugged me.
I picked up the scent of rum on her breath. If she was going to party, I might as well relax and let loose too.
“I couldn’t have done it without you—all of it. Thanks for your help. We make the best team!” I punched her shoulder. I was awkward and not very good at showing my emotions or being the hugging, touchy-feely type. My personal space was just that—mine.
The corners of her mouth turned up at me as she slipped something scratchy into my hand—a condom. The foil of the wrapper felt like thorns in my shaking palm.
“Go. Have fun. I’ll take care of everything tonight.” She winked.
“But I don’t know how—” I started, squeezing the rubber in my fist before realizing that could damage it. I’d better not do that if I wanted to screw.
Did I want to screw? I didn’t know. But there was only one way to find out—by testing the waters and seeing what was out there. By taking a risk. I shuddered.
I took a deep breath and slipped the condom in my clutch.
“You’ll know how when you see him. Trust me. Go! Scoot! Skedaddle!” Lisa shooed me away.
I headed to the bar, which of course only served cocktails with Fleur-De-Lis rum. No complaints from me. I liked it, and I needed it. It went down smooth and left me warm and relaxed—which was exactly what I needed in a man. A sweet, caring, smooth-talking but could back it up man who also left me feeling warm and relaxed. But who was I kidding? I also needed to get laid. Not that I planned on that right away. I didn’t think. At this point, I would be happy to get someone’s phone number.
“Me-fucking-ow,” said a clown next to me. And I meant that. He wasn’t just a dumbass. He was actually dressed as a clown—a very tall, hard-pass clown.
“Thanks. I think. Purr … or something.” I pursed my lips and took a sip of my cocktail. I would have to work on my flirting skills, although with this bozo, I didn’t even care to try.
“Yowch! A cat with claws. I like that. Want to squeeze my rubber nose?” He leaned down, his drawn-on smile reaching from ear to ear, his breath heavy on rum and what smelled like salami.
I turned my head to keep from gagging.
“Careful there, Malcolm. This one bites. I should know,” an unfamiliar voice called from behind me.
The tall mystery man wore a form-fitting suit—tight in the biceps and tight in the package. My eyes followed his bulge up to his Phantom of the Opera mask, which covered all, except his jawline and pouty lips. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and smiled the most seductive, devilish smile I’d ever seen. I gripped my clutch tighter, remembering my condom—and my mission.
“Wait, but I thought—” Malcolm started, but the Phantom grabbed my hand and began pulling me far away from him.
“Come on, kitten.” He grinned down at me.
I would need a stool to reach that scruffy, chiseled jawline of his. I wanted to nuzzle it, kiss it, lick it, ride it.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s happening to me? Is this what Lisa meant when she said I would know?
“Where are we going? Who are you?” I dropped his hand and stopped following him.
I wasn’t going anywhere with someone I didn’t know. I at least needed some clue as to who he was and what I was doing and why he’d rescued me from that deli-breathed clown.
“I was taking you away from Malcolm. I’d been watching you from across the room. I saw you scouting, and so did Malcolm apparently. He just got to you first, and well, it’s your choice. You can go back there with him if you’d like. I just thought—”
I turned behind me to see if Malcolm was still there. He was. He reached up to his red rubber nose and gave it two slow squeezes while he licked his lips and wiggled his brows in my direction.
“Nope. I’m good.” I turned back to the Phantom. “But what do you mean, you saw me scouting?”
“Your eyes were glancing around the room, landing on every man who passed by. I saw the way you bit your lip until you noticed most of them were with their wives or mistresses. You can never tell with this crowd.” He shrugged his broad shoulders and shot me another devilish grin.
My toes curled inside my heels. “I was that noticeable? Crap.”
I definitely needed to work on my flirting skills.
“Hey, it’s not a big deal. Maybe it wasn’t noticeable. Maybe I had noticed because I was doing the same thing—to you.” He stepped closer to me. The Phantom didn’t smell like rum or salami. He smelled like a sultry evening in the woods—leather, mahogany, spice. A manly man.
My blood pulsed through my veins, fluttering for a lingering moment in my panties. What the hell? That’s new—or at least, I forgot that feeling. I think Mr. Phantom might have woken up my pussycat.
“Oh, well, I …” I twisted my tail in my hands.
He was certainly in my personal space, but this time, I didn’t mind.
“Here, kitty, kitty. I think I have what you’re looking for,” he whispered into my ear, pulling me toward a hallway.
I’d been down that hallway many times. It led straight to the guest house.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be—how do I know you’re not a serial killer under that mask?” I stopped again right as we reached the guest house kitchen.
The only light in the room was the moonlight shining through the massive windows, and the flashing views from the party room reflected across the pool. The music from the band vibrated off the walls, in sync with whatever the hell humming my body was doing.
“Take this.” The Phantom reached into a drawer and pulled out a massive knife. Its blade gleamed in the moonlight.
“What the hell for?” I backed away from him.
“You said you think I’m a serial killer. So, here, take this. Would a serial killer give you a knife?”