She took in a deep breath, stepped onto the elevator, pushed the button for the parking garage, then leaned against the mirrored back wall and exhaled. It was Friday, and thankfully, she had a two-day reprieve from the office. Her grip tightened on the handle of her briefcase, which held the files from the Flores case along with today’s. She’d be able to work from home and blessedly not have to deal with a boss, who at times, could be a sexist jerk.
What was it with some of the men in law enforcement, anyway? Thinking women couldn’t do their jobs. Janelle had worked damn hard, twice as hard as any man in her office, just to prove them wrong. The workload of cases she had solved and the criminals she had brought down spoke for themselves.
Captain Melchor was an egocentric, handsome asshole who went to the gym every morning before work, giving him a body most women drooled over. And he was one hell of a womanizer. When she had first graduated from the academy and came to work in the Oregon office, he had tried to take her to dinner. Of course, Janelle had declined. Dating her boss would be detrimental to the path she had set for herself. She wasn’t about to start her career by sleeping with him.
After a few years on the job, she had come to realize Robbie Melchor hit on a good share of the pretty women in the office. Most had declined his invites. But those who hadn’t? If the rumor mill could be trusted, Robbie could be physically and verbally abusive and had supposedly raped an old girlfriend. Though those who were close to Robbie quickly squashed the latter tales, saying they were nothing but the rumblings of a spurned ex.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open on the parking level. Keys in hand, she walked across the concrete to her waiting Chevrolet Tahoe. The clack of her heels echoed in the nearly empty garage. She pushed the button on her fob. The Tahoe’s lights illuminated the darkened space and the doors unlocked.
Frank’s Place, the local tavern just around the corner, would be hopping on a Friday night. Maybe she’d stop in for a beer and wings before heading home. Many of her co-workers would likely still be there. Opening the back door, she tossed in her briefcase before shutting it when a set of headlights rounded the corner of a cement barrier at the end of the row. The lights, positioned lower to the ground, appeared to belong to a sports car. As the vehicle approached, it slowed to a crawl before stopping next to her, effectively blocking her Tahoe from leaving. Since the parking garage had security access, allowing only those who worked in the building to enter, Janelle wasn’t alarmed.
Because she hadn’t identified the car, her hand went on autopilot anyway and shadowed her issued Glock holstered at her waist. The tinted window silently slid down, revealing a man Janelle recognized, but wasn’t all too happy to see.
“What can I do for you, Captain Melchor?”
The dashboard lights illuminated his white smile, his upper face remaining in shadows. “A drink?”
“I was just about to head home.”
“Ah, come on, Janelle, surely you can spare an hour. What were you going to do? Go home and open that briefcase you just tossed into your backseat? You can’t work all the time.”
Janelle took in a deep breath and sighed. Even if she declined, she knew he’d follow her to Frank’s, call her a liar, and invade her space anyway.
“I suppose I can spare the time for a drink.” She held up her pointer finger. “One drink.”
“We can talk about this morning’s findings. Or,” he paused, “we can just enjoy each other’s company.”
No way in hell would she be enjoying Captain Melchor’s company, but she supposed it would be rude not to try. “New car?”
His smile widened as he patted the dashboard. “Just picked it up this week.”
“Nice.”
“Hop in, I can give you a ride to Frank’s. I’ll bring you back later.”
No way in hell. “I’ll meet you at Frank’s in five.”
Robbie gave her a wink before he slid up the window, revved the engine just enough for effect, then spun off toward the end of the row of vacant spaces and disappeared around the column at the end. Janelle groaned. So much for her peaceful night. Turning to reach for the handle of her Tahoe, she squealed.
A wall of muscle and darkly mysterious man stepped from the shadows. Long hair caped broad shoulders, while the shadow of a short-cropped black beard encompassed a stunning smile. Hell, his lips alone spoke of all things sinful. What she wouldn’t do for one night with this man and those lips. Not to mention his body, which was seriously harder than her sexist boss she was supposed to meet in five.
Janelle’s hand fluttered to her chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention.”
“If it wasn’t your intention, then why hide behind my Tahoe only to jump out when I turned around?”
“I beg your pardon. I didn’t jump. I merely walked. And I wasn’t hiding.” One of his dark brows inched upward. “I was waiting for you out of plain sight so you wouldn’t have to answer about my appearance to the man who was obviously hitting on you.”
“How did you get in here?” Janelle looked around the garage. “This place has the best security.”
Vlad chuckled. “I assure you, Special Agent Ferrari, there isn’t any place that can keep me out if I want to get in bad enough.”
“Last time you visited, the security cameras had somehow been scrambled. I suppose we would find the same should I look at the garage feed later?”
“Of course. Simple parlor trick.”
“Then you must show me how sometime.”
His eyes crinkled in merriment. “Not many know the trick and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”
“You’re a magician then?”
The humor fled his eyes as he shook his black silky mane. Janelle bet it would be as velvety to the touch as the man from her dreams. Which of course, she didn’t need to be thinking about when said object of her fantasies stood just inches from her, close enough that she could detect the wood and amber undertones of his cologne.
“I assure you I’m not a magician.”
Taking in another deep breath, Janelle tired of the verbal circles they danced. “What do you want, Mr. Tepes?”
He chuckled again. “You can drop the mister. There isn’t anything proper about me or my thoughts. In fact, we could go back to your place, slip into something more comfortable, like your sheets, then later we can talk about today’s findings.”
Janelle’s brows knit together as her temper flared. “Are you for real? Do those lines actually work for you?”
“I assume it’s the getting naked part that is getting you all up in arms.”
“All up in arms? What century are you from?”
He turned his palms up. “Take your pick, Special Agent Ferrari.”
“Look, no. Getting naked with you is not going to happen. Not now, not ever.” Too bad her libido wasn’t getting the message. Even as angry as she was, her damn sexual urges were taking notice of the seriously hot strange-as-he-may-be man and his suggestions. “And you sure in the hell aren’t getting details on today’s case. Why does it even interest you? And more importantly, why do I feel this relates to the last time you came knocking at my office?”
“Too bad about not getting naked. It could have been quite pleasurable.” Arrogant much? Janelle rolled her eyes, but he stopped her from telling him exactly where he could go with his raised finger. “Even as much as I’d enjoy a little carnal embrace, I am more interested in the case. If you’d care to point me in the direction of your home, we can talk about this privately.”
Vlad Tepes was nuttier than she already assumed if he thought she’d show him where she lived. Finding out where he lived, though, might be of benefit. Going to his house alone could be foolhardy at best, but something told her this man wouldn’t take what wasn’t given.
“If you want to meet up, then we can go to your place.”
Vlad seemed to contemplate her suggestion. “If that’s your wish. Although, my home is
over 3,500 miles away. I’m guessing that’s not where you were intending. I am currently renting a suite if you would like to meet for cocktails there.”
This man further confounded her. What the hell was he doing in Oregon? And why the interest in her case files? Janelle wouldn’t get the answers unless she took him up on the offer of cocktails. She’d need to text Captain Melchor and let him know something came up, because nothing was going to stop her from getting to the bottom of Vlad’s intentions. She needed to figure out his angle. He didn’t look like a vigilante, but then they never did hang a sign over their head that said, “Sociopath here,” with an arrow pointing down. It might help catch them a whole lot faster if they did, though, she thought with a chuckle.
“Where is your suite located?”
Vlad rattled off the specifics, which she quickly typed into her phone. When she glanced up to tell him she’d be by shortly, he was gone. Vanished. Janelle glanced around the garage, seeing no sight of human life at all. He might not be a magician, but he certainly had the disappearing act down to a science. No one vanished into thin air.
She drew in her lower lip and thought about her foolish choice to meet him in his place … alone. If the man was a murderer, then she was giving him every opportunity to take her life. She’d keep her guard up. Drawing in a deep breath, she opened the door to her Tahoe, climbed in and started the engine. She’d need to stop by Frankie’s first to tell Melchor something had come up.
Nothing was going to stand between her and getting her answers. Not even an insanely sexy man and his ability to confound her.
* * *
Vlad’s gaze landed on the ornate bronze clock that nearly covered the square footage of the herringbone-textured papered wall, complementing the theme of the rented penthouse. It was small by his standards but would do while he was in the States. The California King in one of the two bedrooms, however, fit his size quite nicely. Not to mention, he was fond of the antique oak four-poster bed. He could easily envision putting to use the four wooden posts. Wine silk draped the four corners of the canopy, long enough to wrap around a pair of wrists and ankles.
Vlad couldn’t help but think about the special agent bound.
Speaking of, what was taking her so long? His rented penthouse was but a short sprint from the parking garage, ten miles at most. Janelle Ferrari should have been here by now and he wasn’t accustomed to being kept waiting. The more the second-hand on the clock ticked away, the more his annoyance grew.
A bottle of Napa Valley Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon sat uncorked on the table with a pair of stemless glasses beside it. He had promised her drinks, hoping she enjoyed a dark red. If not, then he’d have the lobby’s restaurant bring up something more to her liking.
A quick glance back at the clock told him a half hour had passed since he had left her standing next to her Tahoe. Maybe she had changed her mind and met up with the man from the parking garage. Jealousy burned in his gut, an unfamiliar emotion and one he had no right to feel. After all, he barely knew the special agent.
Damn his egotistical hide for thinking she’d do as requested when he should have suggested hitching a ride. At least then he would’ve been able to keep a better eye on her.
He ran a hand through his overlong hair, brushing the strays from his eyes. Agitation streamed through him like flood waters over a dam. It was possible he had scared her off with his sexual innuendos, though he hadn’t missed the rise in her desire. As a vampire, he could scent it on her as easily as a lion to prey. He affected her, that much he knew for certain.
Besides, what woman didn’t love him?
Vlad had likely been too pushy about the cases, no doubt making her apprehensive. Of course, she would be overly protective of the details. She got paid to keep her mouth shut. Vlad needed to be more subtle in steering her focus away from the neck wounds which caused the victims’ deaths. Thanks to Mircea, Vlad was taxed with keeping the authorities in the dark about vampires and minimizing the risk of exposing them. He had managed to keep the secret for centuries and his brother was about to fuck that up. Over the years, Vlad had witnessed humankind at its worst. There was no hope the vampire population would survive if the truth got out.
Vampires would be hunted and killed, if not out of fear, then for sport.
Vlad’s nostrils flared but a second before his sonic hearing picked up the ding of the elevator arriving on the top floor. The penthouse ensured his privacy, keeping nosy neighbors and tourists from poking about his business.
Striding to the door, he opened it before Janelle had the chance to knock, causing her to jump. She was more fidgety than an addict in a room full of confiscated drugs.
“How did you—”
“I heard the ding of the elevator.”
“Of course, you did.” Janelle white-knuckled her grip on the briefcase, telling him she wasn’t exactly on board with sharing whatever she had inside. Nudging past him, she walked into the room, her gaze sweeping the elaborate surroundings. “You said suite.”
“Penthouse … suite, what’s the difference?”
“I was expecting a smaller room comped by a corporation of some sort, not the entire top floor.”
“I’m not owned by a corporation, nor do I own one, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m much more of a loner.” Vlad grinned, gave her his back and headed for the table. “Can I interest you in a glass of wine, Special Agent?”
“Please call me Janelle. No need for formality. And yes, I’d love a glass. Thank you.”
“I have a Cabernet Sauvignon uncorked, unless you would prefer something else. I can call down to the restaurant…”
“No, that’s fine. I prefer my wine dry.”
Janelle followed him to the table where she set the briefcase on a chair next to the table and took the proffered glass. She took a sip, nodded her approval, then looked at him.
“Why didn’t you call? I gave you my card months ago regarding the Flores case, and yet you never used it.” She set her glass on the table and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, drawing his gaze to the delectable cleavage spilling over her snug black top. “Now, we have a case with similarities and you show up in the parking garage where I work. Why? What is it about these two cases that have you snooping around? I’m not here to share with you anything about the case … or for that matter, anything physical. What I want to know is what the hell is your interest in all this? And to make sure you aren’t the subject I’m hunting. Are you responsible for these murders? I swear—”
One of his brows arched. “You think I did this? What possible motive would I have? I didn’t even know the victims.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“I guess you’ll have to take my word. Besides, I haven’t been in a Catholic church in years, so what purpose would I have for killing a priest and a nun?”
Her gaze turned hard as steel. “I never told you who the latest victims were.”
Vlad raised a hand. “Relax. I didn’t do it. Christ, it’s all over the damn news already.”
“Why the interest?”
He chuckled. “You’re the one with supposed visions. You tell me.”
“For some reason, my visions have taken leave and I’m not sure why. This past winter I thought I saw a man in the backyard of my cabin who looked suspiciously like you. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
His face heated and he never got embarrassed or made excuses for his actions. His white lie would suit him better. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
Janelle studied his face and Vlad hoped she didn’t see the untruth. Explain to her why he stood over her naked form and watched her in the throes of what appeared to be a hot dream? Not likely. Nor was he about to admit the fact he had gone back to the penthouse and jerked off in the shower to the image of her burned in his memory.
“I do hope that’s the truth, Vlad. I’d hate to think you’re some sort of creeper.”
Whic
h is exactly what she was making him feel like, fortifying his reason to stay away until now. Janelle Ferrari was temptation at its finest and the last person he needed to get tangled up with.
“I can’t help but wonder if you’re the reason my visions have stopped.”
“Why on earth would you think I had something to do with that?”
“Because I haven’t had one since your odd visit to my office.”
Luck was indeed on his side. Should her visions return, they could very well expose the truths about the existence of vampires.
“Well, that does indeed suck they have gone silent, Special Agent… Janelle.” He twirled the deep red liquid in the glass. “But I’m sure that has nothing to do with my visit or me.”
Chapter 4
Janelle couldn’t help but note the slight reddening of his cheeks, or the way Vlad avoided eye contact when she had mentioned the man in her backyard. He didn’t look like the type who made excuses for his actions, nor was he someone who was easily rattled. But bring up the man who disappeared through her hedges and he looked downright uncomfortable. Her gut told her Vlad had been her intruder.
Why go to the bother of spying on her?
It wasn’t as if he didn’t have her phone number. She had handed it to him months ago when she confronted him at the Sons of Sangue clubhouse. So why not use it instead of sneaking in through her window? A locked one at that. Just the thought of him standing over her nude form sent shivers up her spine. Christ, the thought alone should scare the living hell out of her, not turn her on.
And yet, here she stood, wondering how good he was in the sack.
She was beyond pathetic.
Vlad didn’t appear guilty of anything more than breaking and entering as well as trespassing, at least that’s what her intuition was telling her. Not that he didn’t look capable of inflicting harm. On the contrary, he looked menacing. She’d need to stay on his good side. Otherwise, she didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting any answers.
Vlad (Sons of Sangue Book 8) Page 3
