Their Dark Reflections Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  By Amanda Meuwissen

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Their Dark Reflections

  By Amanda Meuwissen

  Personal assistant Sam Coleman can do it all: housekeeping, groundskeeping, bookkeeping. The catch? It’s a con.

  Ed Simon, his newest millionaire boss, doesn’t know Sam Goldman is a Robin Hood for hire who targets rich jerks. Sure, Sam keeps the money for himself, his crew, and his real employers, but at least they only steal from bad people.

  Until sweet, fumbling Ed, who doesn’t seem to have a single vice. Too bad the people who hired Sam won’t let him back out. They want Ed’s money, and they’ll hurt Sam and his friends to get it.

  For years Ed has kept people at arm’s length, but Sam’s charms wear down his defenses—just as he learns their budding relationship was an act. Sam isn’t who Ed thought he was, but Ed has a dark secret too: he’s a vampire. And someone is framing him for a series of bloody murders.

  When the real villains force their hand, Sam and Ed must choose: work together, trust each other, and give in to the feelings growing between them… or let what might have been bleed out like the victims piling at their feet.

  To Meagan Hedin, who I will always share my deepest hopes and dreams with, and who understands how well a good horror story can still work in a romance.

  Chapter 1

  SAM KNOCKED on the paneling of the wrought-iron doors, trying to peer through the glass. It was frosted, offering no insight into what lay inside. Mr. Simons’s instructions were for him to

  let himself in, but he still wanted to announce himself.

  Hearing no response, Sam tried one of the handles, and it gave way with ease.

  “Mr. Si—” He cut off with a gape as he entered. He’d known the house would be impressive from the outside, but this was Real Housewives kind of ostentatious, opening into a huge two-story entryway with a grand staircase leading to the second floor.

  The décor was antique and modern mixed, with standing radios from the ’20s or ’30s on either side of the doors, resting atop trendy black-and-white tiles. Two matching art deco tables bookended the staircase in similar fashion, sporting their own vintage radios. This guy must be a collector.

  Good. That meant there would be even more worthwhile prizes than what Sam planned to steal.

  “Please close the doors behind you, Mr. Coleman,” a voice called from the second floor.

  Sam obeyed, noticing how the opaqueness of the glass kept out any natural light. The nearby curtains were closed as well, making it harder to blink upward through the dimness and see his host.

  Sam had ridden there on his motorcycle to throw off his new “client.” Any other professional with his resume would drive something more practical. The bike added a distinctive edge, so that when his skills proved worthy, Mr. Simons would be that much more intrigued by him—and easier to con.

  Little good that did when the man couldn’t see outside. Sam openly gawking around the foyer like an amateur didn’t help either. He was twenty-three, not a child. He needed to act like it.

  “Mr. Simons,” he said, clearing his throat to start over, “a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I hope you don’t mind me parking my motorcycle in the driveway.”

  “Not at all.” He must have seen the bike after all or wasn’t that easily surprised. At first, he made a somewhat hazy figure descending the stairs until he was close enough for Sam to see him clearly. “And call me Ed.”

  Sam nearly gaped again, because Ed was not the old rich guy he’d expected.

  First, he couldn’t have been older than thirty, with well-coifed strawberry-blond hair, green eyes, and a tall, slender frame dressed primly—and maybe a little ridiculously with a sweater vest and bow tie—which all amounted to a nerdy boy-next-door who didn’t seem to realize he’d grown up hotter than his wardrobe.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Ed smiled warmly and extended his hand.

  Hot and nice. This wasn’t turning out like Sam had planned at all.

  “IF I can call you Ed, then please, call me Sam.”

  Attractive and well-mannered. This wasn’t turning out like Ed had planned at all.

  Sam’s skills and experience had been listed as housework, groundskeeping, scheduling, even personal finance—everything Ed needed in a temporary assistant. He hadn’t expected someone so young, though, or with such a roguish smile.

  Ed never realized how much he’d enjoy curls on a man, either, rich black with a few unruly ones falling into eyes that were almost black themselves and easy to get lost in.

  Ed had to focus.

  “It’s cozy in here,” Sam said.

  “Yes, I keep the house fairly warm, since I tend to run cold. I’m sure you noticed.” Ed waved his hand.

  “Cold hands, warm heart, right?” Sam flashed a smile again. “Are you an antiquities collector? I couldn’t help noticing the radios.”

  “A little,” Ed admitted. “I love theater, but there’s something special about purely spoken stories.”

  “A radio drama fan? That’s rare. I enjoy the old oral traditions too.” He cocked his head with a stretch to his grin that made Ed forget himself for a moment.

  “I-I, um…. W-we should….” He paused to collect himself. “How about I give you a tour, and then we can discuss your schedule?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Ed led Sam into the living room that spanned almost one whole side of the house and connected to the back patio that opened to the fenced-in backyard and pool. “I know it’s a lot for one man, but I like my space, and I have numerous possessions I don’t want to part with.”

  “I can imagine,” Sam said, looking at Ed’s framed photographs on the wall. Ed’s three favorites were prominent: The Grand Canyon just after sunset, Times Square in 1957, and one of Big Ben first being built, two-thirds to completion. “This last one must be over a hundred years old.”

  “A hundred and sixty, give or take.”

  “Famous photographer?”

  “Just a family heirloom.”

  “Must have been a cool family. I take it groundskeeping will include cleaning the pool?” Sam moved to the patio doors and pulled aside the fitted curtains.

  “I like to swim at night under the stars,” Ed said, holding back in the shadows, “so it can be your last duty of the day.”

  “You only swim at night?”

  “I have photodermatitis and light sensitivity, so the sunlight can be dangerous. That’s why I keep the curtains closed.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sam let them fall back into place.

  “The tools you’ll need are in the pool house, but let me know if anything is missing.”

  “Stargazer too?” Sam indicated the telescope near the doors.

  “Yes, I bring that outside on clear nights. I’m a Pisces myself.”

  Sam looked at him as if in surprise.

  “Not that I take astrology seriously! I just think it’s fun. Besides, the stars have their own stories to tell, and how people choose to interpret them can be fascinating, don’t you think?”

  With his grin creeping up again, Sam sauntered closer to Ed. “Pisces, huh? No wonder you like to swim. I’m a Gemini. What’s that say about me?”

  Ed felt his face flu
sh as Sam drew closer. “Th-that you’re adaptable, curious, witty. You can be the exact person someone needs you to be.”

  “Lucky you,” Sam said. Then, when Ed stood staring like an idiot, he followed with, “For the job.”

  “Right! You’re quite the Renaissance man from your credentials.”

  “I hope I live up to what you expect of me, Eddie. Can I call you Eddie, or is that too informal?”

  Ed could usually read people well, but he didn’t often have them in his home for very long. He must be imagining that Sam was flirting. “I don’t mind.” Although no one ever called him Eddie. “Shall we?” Turning swiftly, he continued toward the dining room and kitchen around the other side of the house.

  Sam followed. “This Renaissance man can also cook. Did you want—”

  “No need,” Ed broke in. “I order in all my food and don’t eat much. It’d be a waste to have you cook for me. You’re welcome to help yourself to anything in the pantry or fridge, though, and since you’ll be staying over lunchtime, feel free to make requests.”

  “I’ll take you up on that.”

  They came around to the staircase again and headed up to the parlor, which Ed considered to be the best place in the house to read, since it looked out over the high ceiling down to the foyer. He still had a book resting beside the armchair where he’d been awaiting Sam’s arrival.

  “The Tempest?” Sam read the title.

  “We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep,” Ed recited, and then chuckled bashfully when Sam grinned at him. “I, uhh… like to reread classics between new titles.”

  “Impressive library,” Sam said, scanning the bookshelf behind the armchair.

  “That’s just for what I’m currently reading or about to start. The rest are in the real library.” Ed motioned for Sam to continue down the hall, enjoying the shock that briefly filled his features.

  They passed a bathroom, the office, a guest room, and entered the second guest room that Ed had turned into his library. He’d not only covered every spare inch of wall space with ceiling-high bookshelves, but had placed standing bookshelves in rows like a true library in order to hold everything he owned. He rarely got rid of books and kept adding to his collection.

  “Harry Potter next to a first edition of The Canterbury Tales.” Sam sputtered a giddy laugh as he looked around, but then the humor seemed to leave him, and he frowned as he continued scanning.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s no order to any of this. Not by title, author, genre.”

  “I was more concerned with getting them on the shelves.”

  “Is that how all your organizational attempts pan out?” Sam looked at him with something akin to pity.

  “I just don’t like the tedium of it,” Ed defended.

  “I meant no offense.” Sam held up a hand and gave a short laugh—hypnotic really, or magical, because it loosened Ed right up again. “Luckily for you, I live for tedious planning. Shall we move to the master bedroom?”

  Ed was close to reprimanding Sam for such cheekiness when he realized he meant the tour. “Yes! Last stop.” He moved swiftly once more to prevent Sam from seeing how red his face had become. He’d avoided real interaction with people for so long, he’d forgotten how to act normally.

  Or Sam was just that charming.

  The master bedroom was large, with its own bathroom, and housed a four-poster bed and matching dresser, along with a shelf for Ed’s cameras—some modern, some antique—but he spent the least of his time in that room. It was mostly only for his safe, set into the wall by the closet.

  “You know, people usually put paintings over those,” Sam said.

  “I will eventually. I just haven’t decided which one yet. Besides, I wanted you to see it since you’ll be helping me with my finances. It mostly only holds cash and the logins to my offshore accounts on a flash drive. I can’t let you have access to any of that or the safe, but you can see printouts of my holdings once we get to that part.”

  “No problem. That’s all I’ll need. Do you only collect cameras and photographs or take your own?”

  “I take some. Whenever something beautiful catches my attention.”

  Eager to be out of the bedroom given Sam’s effect on him, Ed started to lead them downstairs, but Sam pointed to the pull ladder at the end of the hall.

  “That’s to the widow’s walk.”

  “May I?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Sam pulled the string to bring the ladder down. The sun spilled into a little pool at the base, which Ed sidestepped with a simple pivot. Once Sam was almost to the top, he turned back.

  “I suppose you can’t join me, huh?”

  “Still a little too bright for me. Go ahead.”

  Sam nodded and finished the climb. He disappeared for a spell, but then his voice filtered down. “You should bring your telescope up here!”

  “I’m not a fan of heights either!” Ed called back. He could never quite get over that sudden feeling of vertigo when he was high up.

  Sam returned and carefully replaced the ladder. “No basement?” he asked as they headed to the main level.

  “No.” At least, not that Sam needed to know about.

  “Are you sure you only need me for two weeks?”

  “We can play it by ear,” Ed said, but he had no intention of extending the contract. Any longer would be too risky. “Shall we plan out your first few days?”

  “Absolutely. I’m all yours, Eddie.”

  Definitely only two weeks.

  DEFINITELY NO more than two weeks.

  Ed wasn’t like the others Sam had conned. Sam considered himself a Robin-Hood-for-hire, targeting rich assholes who had it coming. Granted, he kept all the money for himself, his crew, and his employers, but at least he only stole from bad people.

  Until Ed, who didn’t seem to have an ounce of badness in him and had no idea who he’d just let into his home.

  Sam Goldman, not Coleman, who was currently scamming him for every cent in his offshore accounts.

  “You got a full tour of the house, know exactly where the safe is and what’s in it, and he’s lax on security?”

  “I even know the model number to the safe.”

  “Then all you have to do is play it cool for two weeks, and we can make a clean getaway.”

  “Yep.”

  “He probably won’t even realize he’s been robbed for months, with how much he has.”

  “Yep.”

  “It’ll be the easiest job we’ve ever pulled off.”

  “Yeah….”

  “You like him, don’t you?”

  Sam stared at Mim beside him at the table, his best friend and confidant, practically family, who knew him better than anyone—save maybe Gerry, the other member of their “family,” who knew him even better from sheer force of will and prying.

  Mim was tiny, blond, gorgeous, but packed a mean punch when she wanted to. She was playing with a knife, twirling it around her fingers while they talked, the complete opposite of Gerry.

  “Do either of you know what this cord is for?” Gerry called from across the room.

  He would have been an imposing man if he wasn’t tall, dark, and bumbling more than any other adjectives, a cream puff in the body of a bouncer.

  “I mean, it’s HDMI to HDMI, which is always useful, but I already packed the other adapters except for what I need for my laptop. Although, since I have the others, I can probably get rid of this one.”

  “Gerry—”

  “Only the moment I do, I just know I’m going to find whatever this goes to and wish I still had it. I better keep it.”

  “Gerr—”

  “Of course, if I do realize I need it later, it’s not like it’s hard to replace—”

  “Gerry, will you shut up?” Mim snapped, pulling him into their close-quartered conversation.

  They shared the one-room loft. Logan, who owned Lucifer’s Rest dow
nstairs, had a soft spot for them, offering free room and board for doing odd jobs and occasionally bartending or waiting tables.

  It was meant to only be temporary, but two years ago Sam had finished his twenty-first birthday passed out on that floor.

  “There might not even be a payday,” Mim said.

  “What?” Gerry lumbered over to them, still carrying the cord. “What are you talking about?”

  “Sammy’s smitten with the target.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Ew.” Gerry stopped with a grimace.

  “It’s not like that. And he isn’t some aging sleazeball. This one’s different. He’s young and handsome and… kind of stutters when he gets flustered.”

  “He’s smitten with you too?” Mim groaned.

  “Took to my flirting like he is.”

  “Sam.”

  “What? I’ve flirted to finish a job before.”

  “Not with someone you like.”

  Sam fell silent. That was their one rule.

  Assholes only.

  The three of them had no one else in the world, only each other, grifters since they could fit a hand in someone’s pocket. Well, Sam did the pickpocketing, Mim handled muscle, and Gerry was in charge of the technical side. They were criminals, and they enjoyed being criminals, but that didn’t mean they hurt good people.

  “So that’s it?” Gerry said, sinking into the chair at Sam’s right. “No big score?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m not telling the Cramers we’re backing out of a retirement-sized payday after only one meeting with this guy. Someone this rich has to have skeletons in his closet. Even if it’s also filled with sweater vests and bow ties.”

  Brock and Celia Cramer, an up-and-coming power couple who’d just moved to Riverside, had come to them with this job. It had seemed like a dream come true when they told them of another transplant, a full-blown whale coming to town and bringing a fortune with him. Sam had never done a job in Riverside before—he wasn’t an idiot—but this time, they’d be leaving afterward, so it didn’t matter. Finally, all the scraping by he and his crew had done over the years would pay off, and they’d never need to con again, at least not to survive.