The Billionaire's Heir (Sucubus For Hire Book 1)

by Michael Don Anderson

  “While you have to show off modest means.” I motioned to the car.

  “Exactly.”

  “Alright. Back to Vincent. We know he’s gay. Was there someone?”

  “Virginal Vinnie? Not a chance. Security never left him alone. Excuse me. Unsurveilled. Even in the toilet.”

  “I saw. They let me review the video footage.”

  “Then you know!” She practically shouted her vindication.

  I took a few quiet breaths. To study the woman. She was more unhappy with her life than Blake. But it explained his comments. His focus on her not being the heir rather than himself. Sibling loyalty.

  “I’m not talking about sex, Maureen. I’m talking about romance. Something that wouldn’t have triggered any alarms. Maybe something unrequited?”

  She chuckled morosely. “Oh. Figures a woman would notice what the goon-squad there didn’t.”

  “Go on?”

  “You noticed how smitten Vinnie was for a certain handsome and athletic werewolf. The aloof and unattainable Anton Thrace.”

  I nodded. “So it wasn’t reciprocated.”

  “No. And didn’t poor Vinnie lament about that. On and on sometimes. I get it. He’s a teenage boy. In love for the first time. For a long time, apparently. He stumbled at the top of a landing a few years back. And the strong arms of Anton Thrace scooped him. Kept him from breaking his pretty little neck.” She eyed me shrewdly. “Thrace was only doing his job. Didn’t realize how my kid cousin reacted to that little chivalrous act.”

  I nodded again. Back-channeling acknowledgment. Something clients expected from me to confirm I was actually listening. If they took it to mean I agreed with them, all the better.

  “Did anyone in your family or the Company have dealings with Thrace’s old pack?”

  Maureen looked startled. “The ones that threw him out? That threatened to kill him if he showed up again? Not a chance. Grandfather tolerates his pet preternaturals. But that’s expedience. Nothing more.”

  I frowned but let the insult slide. “So there’s no chance they ran off together.”

  She flashed another look of surprise. Not because the werewolf could’ve run off with the boy. That I thought they might’ve done so. “You think this was all an elaborate ruse to escape our grandfather?”

  “If it was, there might be a problem.” My face became a grim mask of warning.

  I had her attention. “Such as?”

  “Thrace uses medication to keep from hurting people. During the full moon.” I paused significantly. “The full moon’s tomorrow night. If they’re together and he hasn’t taken his meds—he might kill Vincent.”

  “Wouldn’t he have taken it with him? He’s not a fool.”

  “I don’t know. It’s apparently a specialty drug. Turns out that’s why he owes your grandfather a huge debt. I had time to research it on the way over here.” I felt a pang of guilt. I hated it when men took credit for the women who worked under them. I couldn’t do that to Janet. “Well, my secretary did because I was driving. He can’t get it anywhere except from your grandfather. And it has a limited shelf life. Has to be made monthly around the time of the moon. The older it is, the less potent.”

  “Then he wouldn’t run off. Not and put Vincent at risk. I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Bianca.”

  “Maybe. And you’re sure it was unrequited? That’s what Blake seemed to think as well. So you agree? Vincent disappears and Thrace’s disappearance a few days later isn’t part of a plan to escape?”

  “I wouldn’t think so. I mean, I could be wrong. I don’t know that much about werewolves. Anton and I’ve spoken a couple of times. But it was always professional. He never shared anything personal.”

  I nodded. “Anything else you think might help? Anyone else have a motive to take the boy and Thrace?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been racking my brain for days. Everybody loved Vinnie.”

  “Well, Maureen, if you think of anything, please get word to me through your brother.”

  “I will. But what’re you going to do next? Do you even know where to look?”

  I shook my head. “It won’t stop me from trying. I’ll let Blake know if I learn anything useful. And I appreciate your time. Not sure how it’ll help but I needed to be sure that Thrace didn’t have a thing for Vincent. Motives get muddy otherwise.”

  “Good luck, Bianca. And be careful. Werewolf bites can be dangerous. Even to non-humans.” She smiled and I got out of the car.

  She was right. I had no idea what might happen if a werewolf bit me. Dusty’s bite would hurt a werewolf. That had been scientifically documented. Some kind of antibody reaction like in the movies. What either of their bites would do to me was anyone’s guess. I intended it to stay that way.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I made it back to my office without incident. Drove around twice before parking. Less preoccupied than before. More paranoid. The werewolves would have less difficulty finding out where I worked than they had finding my condo complex. And there was the matter of the mystery woman. No sign of either.

  Inside, however, someone was waiting. More than one, someone. I felt the blank spots of undeath like holes in my power. One of the energy voids was slightly different from the others. But I recognized it. Chandler.

  I rushed inside. Andre was standing near the entrance. He looked shaken. Plaster had scuffed his uniform as if someone had shoved him up against a wall.

  “They told me not to call. I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to apologize for. Vampires are scary one on one. A coven’s enough to make anyone afraid to disobey. Better alive than sorry.”

  “Should I go?”

  “Probably. Yes. No police. They aren’t here to hurt me. And I’m not in the mood to press charges for trespassing. Or get a lecture from your mother about endangering her baby boy.”

  “Yes, Miss Savage.” He hesitated. “I can wait outside in case you call for help.”

  I smiled and turned to him. “You’re a good man, Andre. But I’ll be fine. I promise. Call it an early night. Go see that girlfriend of yours. Keep her from complaining about the long hours you put in. I doubt anyone else will break in here before sunrise with all the monsters in the neighborhood.”

  He studied me then chuckled, low and masculine. “I do like working for you, Miss Savage. Even N’awlins had nothing like you.”

  He disappeared out the front. I locked the door behind him. The vampires were waiting for me in my offices. Chilton stood. Several of the others sat in chairs or on the edge of Janet’s desk. No Joseph. No Dusty either.

  The MI-6 undercover agent comfortably settled amongst them. “Now before you go off on us, hear me out,” warned Chandler with hands raised. “They’re here because I called them. I heard about the werewolf attack through police contacts. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  He stared at me. Hard. Unspeaking. Trying to figure out if I was playing a game. Maybe I was. Not the way he thought. Finally he gave in. “I don’t understand.”

  “Why would I call you, Chandler? You aren’t security. You aren’t the police.” I wasn’t going to out him with the vampires. But it wasn’t a lie. MI-6 wasn’t jurisdictionally recognized law enforcement in the United States. “You aren’t my boyfriend. What category of person are you that I would’ve thought to call you about a werewolf ambush?”

  “I dunno, Miss Savage. Maybe a friend?”

  I’d hurt his feelings by not calling. No. Worse. His masculine pride. But my questions were legitimate. We didn’t have a relationship. Not one that would make me think to call him. Or did he think that as MI-6 I should’ve run to him about the boogeymen?

  “I would never put my friends in harms way with dangerous preternaturals. And we’re barely acquainted, Paul. A long ways yet from being friends. I’m not casual about the people I give my trust to.”

  “Fine. As for us being here, well, as an acquaintance, I had resou
rces. And I reached out for them.” He sulked defiantly.

  “Chilton’s people are your resource?”

  He nodded and the rake bowed at the neck. “We are not above providing security for a fellow preternatural. Dusty said the two of you held your own against three werewolves. I suppose that puts us in the middle anyway.”

  “They don’t know who Dusty is. Or that he’s part of your coven. You could walk away without any beef with the werewolves.” I kept myself from naming Killian. I didn’t want the vampires to run off on their own to avenge the attack just because one of their people had stumbled across it.

  Chilton eyed me somberly. “Is it true you’ve been suggesting to law enforcement that we had nothing to do with the abduction?”

  I held his gaze, sunglasses in place. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure you’re innocent of that.”

  He frowned. “But perhaps not other things?”

  “Like I told him, my trust isn’t easily given. Has to be earned actually.”

  The rake forced a smile. “Well then we’d like to earn it. The full moon is tomorrow and werewolves are their most dangerous then. Stronger. Faster. More wild like beasts than men.”

  “I don’t want werewolves killed to protect me. Not unless it’s a matter of another’s life or death.” I knew that vampires were already dead, but I didn’t try to explain away my language. Permanently dead was implied. “How do I know your people won’t get carried away and make a mess of things?”

  He grew chilly. “I don’t make a mess of things, as you put it. I’m offering to put my people at your disposal. To follow your instructions, not mine. If you say don’t kill, they won’t.”

  I glanced at Chandler. Unlike Chilton, he could hardly hold my gaze. Angry. No, furious with me. Something of an overreaction for someone he barely knew. If I’d used my power on him, if he were smitten with me, that would explain his emotions. But he’d been untouched by my energy. I could feel the numbing emptiness of the totem at his waist.

  “I can’t have a whole coven of vampires going everywhere I go when the sun goes down tomorrow. It might be safer but more conspicuous. As a PI I need to move with stealth sometimes.”

  Chilton shrugged. “As many or as few as you like.”

  “Not Dusty,” said the redheaded Bonnie, who clearly didn’t like me.

  “Want to protect him from me?”

  She smiled, bitterly. “Oh no. Those were his words. I won’t help her.”

  “Oh.” I actually felt bad about that. Not because I wanted him with me. But because he’d fought to protect me and I’d basically treated him like crap. “What if I asked for him specifically?”

  “Then he’ll do it,” replied Chilton without hesitation. “Although I might advise that taking him could put you both in an awkward position.”

  “I know that he stood up for me once. That bought a bit of trust. Not Rhoda though. She can stay at home or far away from me until you get her on a better leash.”

  “Into S&M Miss Savage?” The redhead preened at her wit.

  “I don’t know. The last person to tie me up died. Horribly. What do you think?”

  “Enough! This is serious, Bianca.” Chandler punched the wall. Not hard enough to break the drywall. “There were three werewolves. Next time there might be more. You need at least five vampires with you. And me.”

  “You? Who said you get to come to this party? How’re you going to protect yourself from werewolves?”

  He withdrew his .45 from its hiding place under his jacket. His shoulders were broad. His jack fit more loosely than mine. I hadn’t even seen the weight of it in the fabric. I’d have to check out the holster when I wasn’t dealing with a preternatural gang-war.

  “Silver rounds.”

  I frowned. “Silver tipped or silver?”

  “Silver.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Why?” asked Chilton. He understood the significance of my concern. The look on my face.

  “They aren’t manufactured in the US. Silver-tipped only, domestically. Which means you got them in advance from overseas. Would take at least two days to arrive. How is it that you’re armed with full silver bullets before we even went to visit any lycanthropes?”

  “I also come prepared.”

  Chilton frowned. “Does that mean you have wooden bullets?”

  Chandler shrugged. “I do. I also have hollow points and armor piercing rounds. Doesn’t mean I know that I’m going to need them.”

  It was plausible. MI-6 dealt with all manner of British preternaturals. That would include werewolves. Silver bullets could’ve been standard issue. He’d have brought them with him.

  While all of that might be true, a certain sense of paranoia set in. Just in case it wasn’t. I hadn’t survived as long as I had by believing in happenstance. Or falling for handsome sexy men.

  “Where are we going tomorrow night?” demanded the redhead.

  “I don’t know. Not exactly. Wherever I need to go.”

  She glared at me. Wanted me dead. That was a lot of loathing for someone I barely knew. “You really want to send a handful of us against a full pack?”

  Chilton frowned. “I don’t believe Miss Savage is foolish enough to confront a werewolf pack without sufficient numbers.” He turned his gaze to me. “That’s not the plan is it?”

  “No. If I have to challenge the pack, your whole coven wouldn’t be enough backup.”

  “There. Your fears have been allayed, Bonnie.” Chilton turned to me. “You insist on Dusty?”

  “I do. And three of your strongest to boot.”

  I wondered where Joseph was. Protecting the old man for all he’s worth probably. I’d have felt better have him with the other vampires. But they weren’t part of the same coven any more. Asking for him would leave Gibraltar vulnerable. No way he’d say yes to that.

  “Metaphysically or emotionally?”

  I grinned. “Let’s call it three of your most dominant and confident.”

  “Chilton!” snarled the redhead.

  “Yes, Bonnie. That includes you. But Miss Savage, why then Dusty? He’s one of our must submissive.”

  “Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.” I smiled but he didn’t. “Fine. I told you, he’s earned some trust. And I want at least one of your people I feel would put themselves in harm’s way to help me.”

  “Don’t get them killed as cannon fodder.”

  I shrugged. “With any luck, there won’t be any killing involved.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The vampires left to ready themselves for the following night. Chandler, however, didn’t go. His posture was petulant. Like a child. A man unwilling to be told what to do. .

  I remained sitting in my chair, legs on the desk. Staring into his eyes without my sunglasses. Pleased that I could do so with impunity. Waiting for him to speak.

  “Why?”

  I frowned. “Why what? We’re alone. No need to be opaque.”

  “Why didn’t you call me.”

  I sighed. “We went over this. I didn’t lie.”

  “You said I wasn’t a police officer. I’m MI-6. That’s better an’ police. We train in preternaturals.”

  “How would that look for your cover? I call Blake Mansfield’s personal—what? Hatchet man? Investigator? Because of a werewolf attack? Why would I do that? And honestly, what could you have done if I had?”

  “Alright. That’s all true. But I went with you to confront them. Drove you home after it went badly. Didn’t I earn any trust?” He stared into my eyes. Hard. Full of a familiar emotion.

  “You’re jealous.”

  He pursed his lips together. Tensing up. I laughed in surprise which only pissed him off more.

  “Is that it, Paul? Are you jealous of Dusty?”

  “He’s the one you kissed. The one who brought you flowers. You rejected Joseph. But not him? I don’t understand the relationship.”

  My smile of surprise withered into something ugly. “Neither confirmed no
r denied. I thought we’d cleared this up? You can’t be interested in me because a life together depends on a totem you can never remove in my presence.”

  “Would that be so hard?”

  “You didn’t argue that the first time I asked.”

  He looked away. Embarrassed. “I needed to process the facts. Didn’t want to make a promise I couldn’t keep.”

  Men desired me as an exotic object. Something new and unusual. To challenge their ability to withstand my kiss. The only other time men wanted me was because my power had influenced them. Captured them with obsession. Lust. Never romantic love.

  That was something I’d learned decades earlier. I knew it was still true. He couldn’t want me as just a woman.

  I picked at him. “Why are you so interested in me? Is it a preternatural fetish?”

  “Do you really think so little of yourself? That your beauty and character might not impress me?” He gazed earnestly at me. Willing me to hear him. Accept his words.

  I frowned. Feeling a different sensation in my gut. Not the cold of hunger. Cold fear. As if he’d exposed something I’d kept hidden.

  “Most guys don’t react positively to the horns and sunglasses. I know I impress people. But not in a good way.” I waved a hand dismissively. “And being beautiful isn’t the kind of qualifier every woman wants. I know I’m nice on the eyes. But I don’t want to be wanted just because I’m attractive physically. Truthfully, most women don’t.”

  He held my gaze. “I said character.”

  “You did.” I went quiet for a moment. Watching him watch me. Surprised to believe that he meant it. Or at least, he thought he did. “Two conversations and suddenly I’m the girl of your dreams?”

  He stiffened. Breaking our mutual gaze. “You’re smart and strong. Being beautiful and stacked are just bonuses.”

  I laughed. “Wow. Really? Stacked? You’d tell a homely, flat-chested woman you liked her because she was strong and smart, too?”

  “Physical attraction counts for something. Sometimes it’s the expression on a face. Or something in the noble way a person lives their life that adds to that attraction. How many ugly men have you dated?”