Mondays are always happier when they start with a cheeky little read, and nobody is cheekier than Mr. Sands. Unless it’s Elise North.  Today is the third instalment of In Pursuit of Mr. Sands,  and Elise finds herself in the perfect set-up to keep an eye on our Mr. Sands.  As I said,  I’ve been in pursuit of Mr. Sands for quite some time now, and somehow he always manages to elude me. And surprise me. Just recently he made another titillating appearance, only to lead me on a merry chase. I lost him in North Africa somewhere and ended up recovering in Delphi, where I met up with some unexpected acquaintances. (More on that to come. )Never mind. There are worse places to end up, and I’m sure Mr. Sands will raise his oh so fascinating head again when I least expect him.

But for now, Elise finds Mr. Sands hanging out in Soho, not doing what she expected him to do.

If you missed the last instalment of Mr. Sands, catch up with this link.

In Pursuit of Mr. Sands Part 3: Nice Digs

Safely tucked into my booth in the first class lounge, I observed Daniel Sands observing his victim. The word victim didn’t really feel right under the circumstances. The glow in the woman’s face spoke of a well-satisfied lover rather than a victim. And if I wasn’t mistaken, Daniel Sands observed the woman with true affection and more than a little bit of pride. I knew Magda Gardener had at least one vampire on her consortium, and there was a succubus. Both could drain a life away easily and without batting an eye to satisfy their hunger, but they didn’t. Clearly Mr. Sands didn’t either, though I didn’t know if that was always the case or simply because it was not wise to leave a string of dead bodies on a commercial airliner, not when he obviously had a good thing going. As I watched him watching her, I couldn’t help but bask vicariously in a little bit of their afterglow, of the strange afterglow he’d left me with at the shock of finding myself feeling alive inside again after all this time. On the one hand it felt as though the very idea was a betrayal of Dru, on the other it felt like the sun had just come out. I didn’t know what to feel.

I followed him following her to the car park. Oh they didn’t notice. I have a way of going unnoticed when I want to. It’s one of the skills Magda hired me for. I watched him watching her from beside a black Audi, and I felt the exact moment when he chose to let her see him. She had just settled into her Mini, but she didn’t start the engine as I knew she wouldn’t. Instead, she looked around her in nervous anticipation. She wouldn’t have seen him either if he hadn’t wanted her to. Being able to hide in plain sight was one of his survival techniques just as it was mine. At the moment when her heart rate had accelerated just so — you know that moment I’m talking about — when the serious gallop of foreplay isn’t enough any longer, when the body demands more. At that moment when her anticipation was palpable and so was his, he took from her once more. It was just one little nibble. I suspected from a distance he could do no more, but that was another question to add to my growing research list. With his taking, he offered her one last little reward before he freed her completely from his thrall. He raised his hand to rest on his chest, and with a slight flexing of his fingers, she came. As his magic swirled around her, I felt the pulsing of her orgasm deep in my chest. And him, well there was a sense of euphoria that radiated off him like heat waves. If it were even possible the glow of good health and maleness at its prime that he exuded grew even stronger. And then he got into the Audi and drove off.

I picked up the car Magda’s people had arranged – an apple red Merc AMG that fit me like a glove. Inside I pulled up Magda’s number on the blue tooth.

“He touched me,” I said when she picked up. “On the plane when he was making his rounds. I had to let him. I had no choice really.”

“And?”

“Why yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking and no he didn’t hurt me. Obviously, he knew something was up when I couldn’t offer him even a little nibble.”

Her silence told me in no uncertain terms she was unimpressed with my sarcasm. “And?” She repeated.

“He’s staying at a flat in Soho.” I recited the address I’d got found by taking a peek at his landing card in the Passport control queue.

Her chuckle was like fur against bare skin, her magic oozing through my device as though she stood right next to me. It was not the mink and whisky feel of Mr. Sands’ magic, but something far more wild and dangerous, it was a warm kissed with just a hint of arctic ice. I’d heard that she could be very charming, hypnotic, in fact. But mostly I’d heard she was flat out terrifying, and she liked it fine that way. It left no doubt as to who was in control of her consortium. Other than that I knew little about her but what my research had come up with, which I figured out pretty quickly was only what she wanted me to know. I’d never met her personally. I don’t know how she got my details, since my business is strictly word of mouth, though I have speculated on which of my clients told her about me. In the few times I’d worked for her, I’d not spoken to her at all until I was assigned to tail Daniel Sands. Him, for some reason, she took a personal interest in, so I was given a phone with only her number programmed in. It was equipped with several other high tech upgrades that made me feel a bit like 007. I knew it was as much her way of tracking me as it was mine of finding her, but then I did have a subcutaneous chip for that. So, what I could glean from the situation was that Magda Gardener had a very serious interest in Daniel Sands, that Magda Gardener had very deep pockets – which I already knew, and that I was not nearly as expendable as she might have me believe. Listening to her voice and even knowing what I knew, I still had a hard time imagining that she could be more terrifying than some of the nightmares I’d come up against. Besides working for her was always interesting, and the pay and the benefits were great.

“You’re a resourceful little shadow, aren’t you,” she all but purred in my ear.

“I do my best.” I smiled at my reflection in the mirror above the visor as I refreshed my lippy.

“You’ll be texted the address of your flat in Soho as soon as we secure you one. It’ll be ready when you arrive.”

I was practically drooling at the thought. Magda Gardener had expensive tastes, and she treated me as though I did too. Having said that, I was sure she would have no qualms about making me stay in a crack house if that’s what it took to secure what she wanted, and I’d certainly stayed in worse.

I’d barely made it to the motorway before I got the text from one of Magda Gardener’s PAs, an A. Rivers, with the address of my temporary digs. I was impressed. Clearly, I wasn’t the only savvy person who worked for Magda Gardener. The place was right across the street from Mr. Sands’ flat with a perfect view of his big bay window and the entrance to the building, and it was equipped with all the right surveillance equipment to enhance that perfect view. The fridge was fully stocked and the closet full of clothes. We’re talking high-end designer stuff that I knew would fit me like a dream. Often I’m called upon to travel at the drop of a hat. There’s seldom time to pack. I receive a passport, credit cards and cash, whatever I needed for my cover. Can’t count the number of gorgeous outfits and expensive jewellery I’ve had to leave behind because of time restraints and other … more pressing issues. The necessary accoutrements are usually waiting for me when I arrive. As I said, Magda Gardener has expensive tastes. I made a quick sandwich, drank a gallon of water and, after a hot shower, I went to work.