“You should’ve seen them at Vi’s house,” Harper said. “They’re like a couple of teenagers. Can’t you two keep your hands off each other for a freakin’ minute?”
“Yes,” Seven said at the same time Lucas said, “No.”
Then Lucas added, “Don’t shit on my joy because you guys have become an old, boring married couple with a dried-up sex life.”
Harper looked him dead in the eye and brushed a curl off her forehead with her middle finger.
“Classy,” Lucas said dryly. “And mature, as always.”
Benny snorted. “Dried-up sex life? You obviously didn’t hear them in the bathroom earlier. Swear to Jesus, after what I heard, I don’t think I can ever go in there again without blushing.”
Harper’s head whipped around and she glared up at her husband. “You said no one was in the office to hear us!”
He grinned down at her, completely unrepentant. “No, I said no one important was in the office to hear us.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “You’ll pay for that later, mister.”
His grin grew and Violet fought back another jealous sigh. It’d been way too long since she’d gotten laid. She counted back. Shit…had it been a year?
That settled it. She was done with celibacy. No more coveting other peoples’ sex lives, she thought. Maybe she’d even consider having sex with Miles.
She waited for excitement, happiness, anticipation, nervous butterflies…something to hit her at the thought of sex with Miles. It never did.
Great, Violet thought sourly. She’d probably waited so long to have sex that she was dying below the waist. Dried up like Sahara sand. If she didn’t do something soon, she’d find herself wanting to adopt a bunch of cats and knit horrid little outfits for them.
Violet was jerked from her musings when Benny asked, “Hey, what about Hotness? Can she do anything to help figure out who might be after Vi?”
Harper shook her head. “Mischa and Hunter are busy jumping through hoops for the adoption agency. I didn’t want to bother them, but we will if we have to.”
Violet imagined adoption agencies didn’t hand babies over to regular vampires without a litany of tests and obstacles, let alone to Mischa and Hunter, two of the most powerful vampires in the country. But since they could technically compel the officials to do whatever they wanted, Violet had to applaud their willingness to follow the process without cheating.
Lucas cleared his throat. “I’m going to go ahead and point out the elephant in the room. There’s kind of an obvious suspect that no one seems to be mentioning.”
Violet pulled in a sharp breath. Jesus. Her day sucked bad enough as it was. She really didn’t want to talk about Nikolai again.
Harper cocked her head to one side. “You mean the hot Russian?”
“Whoa,” Riddick said, holding up a hand. “You think that guy’s hot?”
She blinked up at him. “Duh. I’m married, not dead.”
He frowned down at her as Lucas snickered. Harper shot him a sharp look and said, “I wouldn’t sound so smug over there, Wolfy. Seven agrees with me. Don’t you, Seven?”
Seven nodded. “His features are definitely aesthetically pleasing. His body’s very fit.”
“Whoa,” Lucas said, sounding aggrieved.
Benny shrugged. “If I was a chick, I’d do him.”
“Not helping, man,” Lucas said at the same time Riddick said, “Shut the fuck up.”
Violet’s mind drifted as the group continued to debate the level of Nikolai’s hotness. She didn’t add her opinion to the discussion, but Nikolai was so much more than aesthetically pleasing that she wondered if Seven needed to get her eyes checked.
The first time she saw him, she’d been stunned speechless, which, in her case, was kind of a blessing. She had a tendency to blurt out something embarrassing around really attractive men. (She had a vague memory of drunkenly telling Riddick he was so hot he made her ovaries hurt when she first met him. He was kind enough to pretend it’d never happened, though.)
Violet had met Nikolai outside the coffee shop around the corner from her Saturday morning yoga class. She’d just left the building and rounded the corner when she glanced down at her phone to read a text from Lexa. She looked back up just in time to run face-first into a brick wall.
“Son of a bitch!” she gasped as searing-hot coffee splashed down the front of her black tank top and yoga pants.
That’s when the man in front of her cleared his throat and she realized she hadn’t run into a brick wall at all. No, it was much more humiliating than that. She’d done a face-plant into a strange man’s chest and managed to splash her coffee not only all over herself, but all over him, too.
“Oh Christ I’m so sorry I didn’t even see you there!” she blurted.
He peeled his coffee-soaked gray T-shirt away from his skin and smirked down at her. Way, way, down, because wow, he was so tall the top of her head only came up to his shoulder. And that’s when whatever else she was going to blurt at him next escaped her.
Holy hell, he was perfect. Like Hollywood actor, Armani model perfect. And she’d just poured hot coffee all over him.
Awesome.
Those perfect pale green eyes of his moved over her face before sliding down her body, and damned if she couldn’t actually feel the weight of his gaze on her. His brow furrowed in concern. “Are you alright?”
I’ve been rendered dumb and mute by a hot guy. Thanks for asking. How are you?
“Oh, I’m fine,” she finally managed to spit out. “Are you okay?”
As if they weren’t strangers, standing on Main Street in downtown Whispering Hope, he reached behind him, snagged the back of his wet T-shirt, and pulled it off over his head. He glanced down at his bare chest before looking back at her. “Barely left a mark. See?”
Violet about swallowed her tongue. So, so many muscles. How did a guy even get—two, four, six—eight visible abdominal muscles? Did he just live in the gym and lift weights all day?
He smiled. “Why? Do you want to work out with me?”
She blinked up at him. “Did I say that out loud?” she whispered.
He nodded, maintaining the smile.
Violet face-palmed. “Oh…balls.”
His answering chuckle was low and so sexy it made her forget she’d just humiliated herself—again. She cleared her throat.
“Again,” she said, struggling to find her inner grown-up so she could stop acting like a hormonal pre-teen, “I’m really sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
And as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could snatch them back. She hadn’t meant that to sound so suggestive. She’d only planned to pay for his cleaning bill or for a new shirt, not suck him off outside the coffee shop, for God’s sake. But the look he pinned her with was hotter than the coffee she’d spilled all over him, and it let her know a replacement shirt wasn’t first and foremost on his wish list.
His smile grew as he said, “Oh, I’m sure I can think of something.”
Of course, she’d had no way of knowing at the time that the entire meeting had been carefully planned and plotted.
Harper pounded on the table with her fist, startling a gasp out of Violet. “Earth to Violet,” she said, waving a hand in front of Violet’s face. “Where the hell did you just go? You’ve got that dewy-eyed, dreamy look about you. You know, the one you get when we watch Captain Hook on Once Upon a Time.”
Riddick crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t tell me. You find him hot, too.”
“Yes,” Violet, Harper, and Seven said in stereo.
“Oh, come on,” Lucas whined. “That dude wears eyeliner.”
Benny shrugged. “If I was a chick—”
“Do not finish that fucking sentence,” Riddick growled.
Benny gave him a palms-up gesture. “Hey, I’m secure enough in my manhood to appreciate a good-looking dude. I mean, take you for instance, man. You’re a great-looking du
de. If I was a chick or gay or somethin’—”
Riddick took a menacing step toward him while Lucas let out a belly laugh that echoed through the room.
Benny swallowed hard and pulled his T-shirt away from his neck as if it were choking him. “I’ll just be shutting the fuck up now,” he muttered.
Harper banged on the table again. “Okay, enough already. Let’s grow up, gentlemen. Shall we? Violet, have you heard anything from Nikolai lately?”
“He stopped by this morning to apologize for everything.” She cleared her throat. “If he intended to hurt me, he could’ve done it then. I don’t think this has anything to do with him.”
“Mischa and Hunter were confident he wasn’t a threat,” Harper murmured. “Maybe they were wrong.”
“He’s not stalking Violet,” Seven said confidently.
Lucas frowned. “He tried to kill you, Seven. Twice! He stalked and kidnapped Vi. It’s not exactly a stretch to think he’s targeted Vi again.”
Violet often tried to forget that Seven had been Nikolai’s target all those months ago. It made her friendship with Seven all the more awkward. Although, apparently Seven didn’t find making friends with the man who tried to kill her awkward, so maybe Violet was just being a killjoy about the whole thing. Who knew?
“We should’ve killed that fucker when we had the chance,” Riddick grumbled.
“Amen,” Lucas said.
“He was confused,” Seven argued. “Sentry essentially brainwashed him into thinking he had to kill all the other cleaners, but when push came to shove, he didn’t kill me. He listened to what I had to say and turned himself over to the Council for their judgement.”
“After he tried to beat you to death,” Lucas said, enunciating each word clearly and slowly, annoyance clear in his tone.
Seven waved a hand dismissively. “It wasn’t as dramatic as all that.”
Violet blinked at her. Having had a front-row seat to the battle between Nikolai and Seven, she could say, without a doubt, that it most certainly had been as dramatic as all that. But, not seeing the point in rehashing that ancient history, she said, “He had plenty of opportunities to hurt me, and he never did. What motive would he possibly have for coming after me now?”
“Crazy people don’t need no motive, doc,” Benny said. “You should know that better than anyone.”
“He’s not crazy,” Seven said, sounding frustrated. “Besides, he was with me when Violet’s apartment was broken into today.”
“Whoa,” Lucas said at the same time Riddick said, “What the fuck?”
“He’s my sparring partner,” Seven said calmly, seemingly oblivious to why everyone was so surprised. She glanced back at Lucas. “I told you I was sparring every Tuesday.”
Lucas shoved a hand through his hair again. “Yeah, but you didn’t say you were sparring with that crazy motherfucker. I assumed you were sparring with Mischa or Riddick.”
She shrugged. “Mischa’s been busy, and Riddick pulls his punches with me. Nikolai is my best option.”
Riddick scoffed. “Why, because he’s not got a damn thing to do since there’s no work in Whispering Hope for a trained killer, and because he’s not afraid to throw a punch that’ll actually hurt you?”
Seven looked relieved. “Yes, exactly. I’m glad you finally understand.”
Riddick uttered a sound like maybe he was choking and opened his mouth to say something, but Lucas silenced him by raising a hand. He turned to his wife. “Baby,” he began, taking her hand, “you remember how you wanted me to tell you when your communication skills needed some improvement?”
Seven’s brow furrowed. “Yes.”
“This is one of those times.”
“Oh,” she mumbled. “Sorry.”
“No worries,” he answered, giving her hand a squeeze. “Next time just tell me when you plan to spend time with the guy who kidnapped Vi and tried to kill you, okay?”
“Wow,” Harper said as Seven nodded her agreement. “Sometimes I forget how weird we all are.” Then she gave her head a hard shake and added, “Anyhoo, it sounds like Nikolai had an alibi for when Vi’s place was trashed, so I’ll question him just to be thorough, but I’m not liking him as a suspect at this point. So, let’s all lay off the poor guy for now, okay?”
Everyone agreed. Some agreed more…grumbly than others (*cough*Riddick*cough*), but they all knew better than to argue with Harper.
Violet could’ve hugged Harper in that moment. She’d been nearly overwhelmed with the desire to take Seven’s side and defend Nikolai, which was just beyond embarrassing, and kind of pathetic, really. Maybe she hadn’t totally beaten her Stockholm syndrome into submission after all.
“That means that until we figure this thing out,” Harper said, “Vi, you’re going to need a bodyguard.”
Violet cringed, visions of a dour-faced Kevin Costner in that awful ‘90s movie running through her mind. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“I don’t believe in taking chances. And besides, if this person is stalking you, stalkers almost always escalate at some point. I’d rather you not be alone if that happens.”
Violet felt a little sick to her stomach at the thought of what kind of escalation her stalker might hit her with next. What was a step up from trashing her apartment? Not liking any of the possibilities that popped into her head, she agreed to allow Harper to assign her a bodyguard for the foreseeable future.
“Just so you know,” Violet said, “I’m going out of town for a wedding this weekend. What if I can’t get an additional plus one?”
“Dump your date,” Harper fired back immediately. “Take your bodyguard as your plus one. We’ll need to clear your date of suspicion before you spend any time alone with him, anyway.”
Violet laughed out loud at the thought of Miles being dangerous in any way, but Harper merely shrugged and said, “Like I said, I don’t like to take any chances.”
Riddick glanced down at his wife. “You want me to go with her?”
Violet perked up. Showing up with someone who looked like Riddick on her arm would probably offer her immunity from having to sit at the singles table ever again.
Harper sighed. “Maybe? I’m not sure. I need to check everyone’s schedules. In the meantime, Benny, can you take Violet home and stay with her until I know who I can post with her full time?”
Benny jumped up, looking way happier than Violet was strictly comfortable with. “Hell, yeah!” he said. “I’m on her.”
Violet did her best to avoid a sour expression as she hoped he meant he was on it, not her.
“Great,” Harper said, smiling sweetly. “Now that that’s settled, Riddick, can I get you to run out and pick up something for me?”
Was it just Violet’s imagination, or was there something decidedly sinister about Harper’s sweet smile?
Chapter Four
It wasn’t Nikolai Aleyev’s first kidnapping.
His years as a cleaner with Sentry were spent doing the jobs no one else wanted or was willing to do, and that training had made him a rather adept kidnapper.
He knew that zip ties were a hell of a lot more practical and effective than metal cuffs. He knew several combinations of household products that could easily be made into do-it-yourself chloroform. He understood that while efficient, panel vans drew too much attention from the authorities to be used as a getaway vehicle. Nondescript sedans with large trunks worked best. (Nikolai was partial to the newer model Ford Taurus, which had a trunk large enough to transport two average-sized human bodies.)
But what he’d never known, and something his training couldn’t have prepared him for, was how it felt to be the victim of a kidnapping.
That was something he hadn’t experienced until today.
After his complete and utter disaster of a conversation with Violet, the day had moved along ordinarily enough. He’d gone to work at the construction site in the morning. He finished the new roof on the Johnsons’ summer rental in under two hour
s, so his boss was particularly pleased with him and even let him go home early.
After work, he stopped by the gym to spar with Seven for a couple of hours. It had been a good workout. They hadn’t even broken any of each other’s bones this time, which meant their control was improving.
Not that it really mattered. As dhampyres, their wounds always healed quickly and never amounted to anything more than a minor annoyance. But still, control was something Sentry hadn’t really been known for teaching. Being able to master a task Sentry hadn’t encouraged made Nikolai feel good. Almost like he was telling them to fuck off.
And Seven being able to control her right hook was a blessing for his profile. He wasn’t sure how many more times his nose could be broken without the cartilage turning to mush.
After the gym, he’d done his usual check-in with his Vampire Council-appointed parole officer, or, as Seven liked to say, his babysitter. His PO’s sole purpose was to ensure Nikolai’s moods and behaviors were stable, and that he didn’t feel like murdering anyone. Today, Nikolai had received a near-glowing report on his mental health and emotional stability.
He hadn’t mentioned his conversation with Violet to his PO. The guy probably would’ve offered an entirely different report on his emotional stability if he knew just how thoroughly Nikolai’s hopes for reconciliation with Violet had been crushed.
But after that, he’d showered, eaten dinner, and gone to bed. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.
Until someone with a left hook like a freight train broke into his house, threw a bag over his head, and tossed him into the trunk of a ’69 Mustang.
Sadly, the trunk of a classic Mustang was nowhere near as roomy as that of a Taurus.
Nikolai had fought back against his attacker for a while. Until he realized who it was, of course. After that, he assumed the whole thing was some kind of trial his PO and the Council had devised to test his resolve to live like a normal person.
Like someone who hadn’t once been a serial killer for hire.
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