Vampires in America: The Vignettes, Volume 1

by D. B. Reynolds

  “Right,” Emma murmured. “It says Ryan, I think and, what is that? Galarza. Whoever did this has terrible handwriting.”

  “Looks like Galarza to me, and that’s definitely Ryan, so—”

  “So, now,” Emma interrupted, pulling the computer keyboard closer. “We go searching for … hmm, that looks promising.” She clicked a few more keys, tapped the mouse a few times. “And … voila! Francis Anthony Ryan, aka Frankie.”

  They all stared at the picture of the man who was probably holding Cyn and Sarah prisoner at this very moment.

  “Poor bastard,” Robbie muttered.

  * * * *

  Cyn cracked the door open, listening hard. Maury was in full swing, with the audience screaming for blood while the people on stage argued with each other. She pushed the door open further and peered into a small, dank apartment. The first thing she saw was a couch that looked like it had belonged to someone’s dead grandmother. It had been velvet once upon a time, but the nap was almost completely rubbed off, leaving nothing but a faded pattern of huge pink cabbage roses on a fabric that appeared vaguely diseased. Even new that thing must have been hideous. Bad enough they’d been kidnapped, but they could at least have been kidnapped by someone with a little taste.

  Cyn shook her head silently, fought down the urge to gag as a result, and forced herself to focus. Scanning what she could see of the next room, she took a chance and opened the door even further. And there they were. The kidnappers. Two men, one with brown hair, the other a redhead. Both had short, almost military haircuts and wore short-sleeved, brown uniform shirts that seemed familiar. They had their backs to her, sitting on the ugly couch together, but with enough space between them that their sexuality was unchallenged. They were facing the television, but they didn’t seem to be paying attention to the program. They were too busy arguing with each other, their words nearly lost in the overall noise from the raucous program. Cyn closed her eyes, trying to separate out their angry words from the shouting match on Maury.

  “How the fuck are we gonna get any money for these bitches, if we don’t even know who they are?” the dark-haired one demanded.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault we left their purses behind. You’re the one who said we didn’t want that GPS thingy on their cell phones giving us away.” That was the redhead, his voice carrying a slightly whiny quality.

  “Yeah, Einstein, their cell phones, not their whole purses. Shit, they probably had a couple thousand in cash on ‘em just for spending money. And now we got nothin’, ‘cuz we don’t even know who the fuck they are!”

  “So, fine. Let’s ask ‘em. They want outta here, just as much as we do.”

  Cyn’s heart skipped a beat, terrified they’d march right into the room where she and Sarah were supposedly tied up, and blow their whole escape before they even got started. But the two weren’t ready to lift their asses off the couch yet. The darker one took a long drink from a bottle of beer and said, “The tall one won’t be awake yet. I hit her pretty good. Might as well wait until we got ‘em both. Maybe we can play ‘em off one another, you know, like good cop, bad cop.”

  “Yeah, or maybe I’ll just take the little one with the big tits to the other room, so’s I get something out of this clusterfuck.”

  “Later, bro. Let’s find out who they are first, and get the ransom going. Her family might want to talk to her, that whole proof of life thing. You can do whatever you want with her afterwards.”

  The redheaded creep scowled, but nodded his agreement. “Yeah, all right.

  That seemed to settle the argument, as both men leaned back and turned their attention to the television, which Red now flicked over to some sports channel.

  Cyn decided it was now or never. If she waited too much longer, they might finally roll their brains around to the idea of checking on the hostages and all hell would break loose. The time to act was now. Unfortunately, that meant she somehow had to get the drop on two reasonably young and healthy men, at least one of whom might still be armed. Plus, although she hadn’t wanted to say anything to Sarah, she thought there was a good chance she had a concussion. Her head throbbed in beat with her heart and waves of nausea made it difficult to concentrate on much of anything.

  Cyn looked back at Sarah, holding a finger up to her mouth for quiet as she pulled the door open far enough that she could slip through easily. With a suppressed sigh, she eased through the door and into the next room, immediately pulling the door nearly closed behind her. It wouldn’t do for one of them to glance over and see the open door.

  She stayed as low to the floor as possible, duck-walking to one side and using the high back of the couch as cover. Her leg muscles screamed at the abuse. She still wasn’t back to full strength after her near-death experience in the woods outside Seattle. She’d been working in the gym with Elke nightly, but it took time to rebuild muscle tone, even with vampire-enhanced healing.

  She needed to see where that gun was, though. Or at least to see if either of the men had it close at hand. She had no desire to go after them with a knife, only to find a gun in her face.

  Cyn let out a quiet breath as she edged far enough to one side that she could see the dark-haired man in profile. His eyes were closed and he was slumped deep into the overstuffed couch cushions, as if he was asleep. Several beer bottles cluttered the table next to him. Of course, given the general level of housekeeping in this lovely apartment, those bottles could represent several weeks’ worth of consumption. He certainly seemed to be asleep, though, his chest rising and falling in a regular deep rhythm. Apparently, it was hard work breaking into ladies changing rooms and abducting women. Sarah had it right. These guys were assholes.

  Leaving her anger aside, Cyn inched a little bit forward, trying to see the redhead. He wasn’t asleep, but he wasn’t exactly alert either, slumped down and watching TV with glazed eyes, seeming totally at ease. He clearly assumed she and Sarah were safely tied up in the next room and didn’t seem to be giving them another thought. Of far more interest to Cyn was the gun sitting on the end table to his left. It was a 9 mm Sig, and Cyn hoped it was the same gun Sarah had seen, because she really needed him to have only the one gun.

  While she squatted there feeling her thighs cramp and trying to figure out the best approach, Red lifted his left hand and began flipping channels. Seeing her chance, Cyn stood quickly and quietly, crossed the room in three long strides and plucked the gun off the side table, flicking the manual safety off with practiced ease. Red saw her from the corner of his eye just as she reached for the gun. He gave a wordless shout and made a grab for the gun himself, but Cyn already had it up and pointed at the spot just over his heart where she thought a nice triangle of holes would look just fine. She took a couple of steps back, staying out of Red’s reach and covering both men.

  Red’s shout woke his partner who jumped to his feet and stared at Cyn in disbelief.

  “What the fuck, Frankie! How’d you let that happen?”

  “Shut up, EZ,” Red snarled. He turned his attention to Cyn, his lip curled in disdain. “What’re you gonna do, sweetheart? You gonna shoot me? I don’t think so.” He took a confident step toward Cyn, hand stretched out as if to take the gun from her presumably inexpert fingers.

  So, Cyn shot him. He went down screaming, clutching his leg which was spurting blood. “You don’t know anything about me, asshole,” she snarled at his writhing form. “I’ve shot men I liked, and I sure as hell don’t like you. Now, shut the fuck up or I’ll shoot something that’ll put both of us out of your misery.”

  Red clamped his lips over his screams until they were only strangled sobs, his eyes wide with shock. Damp patches of sweat appeared on his brown uniform shirt and Cyn smelled the stink of fear. She raised her gaze to the one Red had called EZ. He had his hands in the air and was backing away from her, his attention riveted on the gun in her hand.

  “Stop where you,” she ordered. “You got any more of those handy plastic ties you’re so fond of?”<
br />
  He nodded rapidly, his eyes never leaving the gun.

  “Where are they?”

  His gaze flashed to her face briefly. “In my pocket,” he stammered out. He lowered his hand as if going for his pocket, then snapped it back into the air and looked at Cyn for permission.

  “What a good boy, you are,” she said cynically. “Take ‘em out of your pocket and put them on the coffee table.”

  EZ complied, throwing a big wad of plastic ties down next to Red’s beer bottle.

  “Okay,” she said, backing off another step. “Drag your asshole friend out from behind the couch and tie his hands behind his back. Slowly. I want to see every step.”

  EZ’s movements were jerky with fear as he grabbed the back of Red’s shirt and dragged him around the end table and out onto the filthy carpet in front of Cyn. Ignoring his friend’s pained whimpers, he rolled Red onto his stomach and yanked his hands behind his back, fastening them with a quick yank on the plastic tie.

  “You do that so well,” she commented. “You were never on the job, though. So what was it? MP? Do his ankles, too,” she added.

  EZ nodded. “Two tours,” he muttered, moving down to Red’s feet and using a linked pair of plastic cuffs to bind the big man’s ankles.

  “Too bad you didn’t make better use of your experience,” Cyn said. “All right, sit on the floor and do your own ankles, and make it tight. Then I want you kissing the carpet right next to your buddy.”

  EZ gave her a calculating look and Cyn bared her teeth. “Try me,” she said. “I’ve got a damn wedding to go to and you’re fucking it up.”

  EZ’s lips tightened as he sat on the floor and bound his ankles, then rolled over and went belly down onto the floor. Without being told, he crossed his hands over his back.

  “Sarah!” Cyn called. “Get your cute little ass out here!”

  “Cyn?” Sarah said, opening the door cautiously and peering out. “Cyn!” she exclaimed and yanked the door all the way open. “You are the best!”

  “Yeah, well, there was no time for finesse. Get over here and help me with this creep.” EZ lifted his head when Sarah started across the room, then grunted in pain as Cyn dropped all of her weight onto his back, digging a hard knee into his kidneys. “This isn’t my first rodeo, asshole,” she hissed. “Sarah, grab one of those ties off the table and fasten his wrists together, just like you would a bunch of computer cables.”

  “Okay.” Sarah made her way around the ugly couch and picked up a couple of the plastic ties. She blanched a bit when she got a good look at Red and his rather gory leg wound. “Is that serious?” she asked Cyn, peering at the man’s bloody thigh.

  “I don’t really care, Sarah,” Cyn said patiently, keeping her eyes and her gun on the back of EZ’s head, her knee digging into his lower back. “Now, come on, get this asshole tied up.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Sarah hurried around the other way, avoiding the necessity of stepping over Red’s bloody mess. “You need to move, Cyn. I can’t get to his hands.”

  “Sure you can,” Cyn replied. “Just grab ‘em and lift.”

  “But won’t that hurt—”

  “God, I hope so.”

  “You are so bad,” Sarah murmured, as she grabbed EZ’s thick wrists in her slender fingers and yanked upward. EZ squealed in pain and Sarah jerked harder.

  Cyn gave her friend a surprised look. “Admit it, Sarah,” she said, grinning. “You enjoyed that.”

  Sarah stood up and stepped back, eyeing the two men with distaste. “You don’t fuck with a woman’s wedding day. So, what now?”

  “Now I call Robbie and make his day.”

  * * * *

  Robbie was on the phone with Ed’s NYPD contact when another call came in. “Just a sec,” he said, and checked caller ID, which said Frankie Ryan was calling him. Frowning, he switched back to his NYPD caller. “This might be something. I’ll get back to you,” he said quickly, then stepped around the corner to where Ed was on his own cell phone.

  “I’ve got an incoming from Ryan,” he said, then activated the incoming call. “What the fuck do you want?” he snarled.

  “Robert Shields! Is that any way to answer a telephone?”

  “Cyn! What the fuck, sweetheart, where are you?”

  “We’re in some ugly ass apartment in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Where’s Ryan?”

  “Frankie? Why he’s right here in front of me. A little under the weather, though.”

  Robbie laughed in relief. “Cyn baby, you are a miracle. Give me an address.”

  “Okay, let’s see …” He heard Sarah’s voice and the crackle of paper, then Cyn said, “There, that one, Sarah,” before turning back to the phone. “Okay, you ready, Robbie? I’ve got an electric bill.”

  Thirty minutes later, Robbie was pounding the door down, then grabbing Cyn and squeezing the life out of her. “No more dressing rooms for you, Cyn baby. Buy whatever you want and try it on at home. I’ll take it back if it doesn’t fit.”

  “I love you, too,” Cyn said, patting his arm. “Now put me down before these nice kidnappers try to take advantage of our reunion.”

  Robbie growled audibly as he set Cyn back on her feet and stalked over to where Ezio Galarza and Frankie Ryan were trussed up like pigs for slaughter. He dug a steeled toed boot into EZ’s side, then crouched to examine Ryan’s bleeding thigh.

  “You shot him?” he asked Cyn.

  “He dared me,” she said with a shrug. “What else could I do?”

  Robbie chuckled, then stood and turned to Ed, whose reunion with Sarah, while heartfelt, had been somewhat more restrained. “You want to call Raj’s guys in on this? I need to get Cyn back to the townhouse before dark, and we’re running out of time.”

  Ed nodded. “Already on the way. They’ll hold ‘em here until Lord Rajmund decides what to do with them. But I’ll be heading back to the tower with Sarah as soon as they get here.” He’d no sooner finished speaking than footsteps thundered up the stairs and several of Rajmund’s daylight guards filled the room.

  “All right,” Robbie said, taking Cyn’s arm carefully. “We’re outta here, sweetheart. Say good-bye.”

  Cyn broke away long enough to hug Sarah, who was already being hustled out of the apartment by Ed, with a pair of guards running interference ahead of them. “Don’t forget, Cyn,” Sarah called as she was hurried down the hallway. “I need you at the penthouse by four tomorrow afternoon to help me get ready!”

  “I’ll be there,” Cyn shouted. She waited until Sarah was out of sight before leaning heavily into Robbie’s muscled strength.

  “You really okay, sweetheart?” he murmured, touching the lump on her head with careful fingers.

  “Yeah. Just … drained. I need to get back to him, Robbie. Right now.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Let’s blow this joint.”

  * * * *

  Cyn kissed Robbie on the cheek and hurried up the stairs of Raphael’s townhouse, exquisitely aware of the minutes ticking away to sunset. Behind her, Robbie was locking the front door, and briefing the rest of Raphael’s daylight security team as he worked.

  Cyn rounded the stairs to the second floor landing and found Emma was waiting for her, her back to the double doors of the townhouse’s guest suite where Duncan was sleeping.

  “Cyn,” Emma said, and hurried over to exchange hugs. “I was so worried. I wanted to go with them when you called, but you know how these guys are. They wouldn’t let me. Robbie called as soon as they found you, though. Are you all right? What happened to your head?”

  “I’m fine. A little bump. It’ll be gone tomorrow, just in time for the wedding. Emma, I’d love to talk, but I’ve got to get inside to Raphael. I’ll see you later.”

  Cyn let herself into the master suite, stripping off her clothes as she hurried through the elegant outer rooms, down to her underwear when she keyed into the vault’s security. She stood back as the heavy door swung open, then stepped through and pulled it clo
sed behind her, entering the code to secure it once again. She went directly to the shower, dropping her bra and panties in the laundry basket and stepping under the hot water.

  She needed to wash away any scent of her ordeal, for herself as much as Raphael. There was no concealing what had happened. He was powerful enough to follow her through the day as he slept. Not so long ago, he’d used that ability to seduce her, making love to her in dreams even though he’d refused to come to her in person. Now, he mostly just did it to keep track of how she spent her days. He was a possessive son of a bitch, but that came with the territory when one was a vampire lord, especially one as powerful as Raphael

  The raw emotion of today’s experience guaranteed Raphael would have tuned into Cyn’s consciousness. She’d tried, just as she’d told Sarah, to keep her fear at bay, but it had been there. Despite her confidence that they’d find some way to escape, despite knowing that in the end Raphael would find her, she’d been scared out of her mind. And nothing drew Raphael’s attention faster than the scent of Cyn in danger.

  She stepped out of the shower and ran a fast towel over her body, then grabbed another towel and squeezed as much water as she could from her thick hair. A fast pass with the blow dryer did the rest, not going for style, but just getting it dry. And then she was slipping into bed next to Raphael, curling up at his side with one arm flung over his chest, her head on his broad shoulder.

  She wouldn’t have thought it possible to sleep, but the sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear, slower than human norm, but steady and predictable, lulled her into unconsciousness …

  Only to be woken less than an hour later when Raphael tightened his arms around her and rolled them both, tucking her beneath his body as he stared down at her in the dim light. His eyes shot silver sparks as he studied her face, his fingers gentle on her skull as they grazed over the lump on her head. He growled at the scent of her blood on the injury. It couldn’t have been much, but there was a shallow cut where they’d hit her with the pistol. His elegant fingers moved to her face, skimming her eyes, her cheeks. He kissed her softly as his inspection moved downward, lingering over her neck where her pulse was pounding, but from arousal, not fear. Raphael would never hurt her.