by Cynthia Eden
“The bra’s got to come off.” Guttural. Too bad. Not like he could manage much more than that. Simon figured he was lucky to be able to speak right then. His fingers slipped under the straps, then trailed down to the hook. If the vamps had fed on her, they would have tried to hide the mark.
They wouldn’t want her aware.
The better to keep track, to torment.
He unhooked the snap. Pushed the bra off her shoulders and let it fall.
Simon had one damn good idea why the vamps had let Dee keep breathing and why they’d tried to set her up.
Word on the street was that certain vamps had plans for Sandra Dee. Plans of pain and madness.
Death would have been too easy.
His mouth hovered over her, right above her shoulder. The skin looked so tender. He could—
“What do you see?”
Simon jerked back. “Let me check your front.”
A huff, but she spun around.
His eyes widened when he saw her tight nipples. Still wet from the spray of water. Pointed, arching right up to him.
Fuck. The woman had a concussion for shit’s sake. He couldn’t devour her now, no matter how hungry he might feel.
He wasn’t that much of a bastard.
Was he?
Her hands clamped on him. “Check.” Breathy there. Hungry—just like me.
Because she felt it, too. The lancing heat of lust. Always there. When she was close, he burned.
He slapped his hands against the sink, caging her. He let his eyes touch her flesh, the way his hands and mouth wanted to do so badly. “Lift your arms.”
Of course, the move just made those breasts arch more.
Dammit. Con-cus-sion.
His gaze raked across her flat stomach. Down to the black bikini panties.
“Trust me, Simon, I’d know if I’d been bitten there.”
His lips curved. Couldn’t help that. “Fair enough.” He sure didn’t need that sensual temptation then, anyway.
He wrapped his hands around her waist and he lifted her. He put her down on the counter—probably with a bit too much force—and reached for her legs.
“Simon.”
He pinned her with his stare. “You wanted this.”
A grim nod. Her pupils were too big. Her eyes so dark. Almost like a vampire’s. Almost.
He caught her right leg. Curved his fingers around the flesh and stroked upward. No breaks in the skin. No tears. No blood.
Her skin was so silken and soft. As he touched her, his heart slammed into his ribs. Simon pressed a kiss against her thigh. Can’t help it.
A soft rasp came from Dee.
His fingers stilled around her knee. “If I find something, what are you gonna do?”
Her lips parted.
The question had to be asked. Had to be. His fingers rose.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll get as far away from those bastards as I can.”
Good. The more distance, the less control they’d have. A lesson he knew well.
“Did you find something?” She whispered and there was a quaver of fear in that husky voice.
“Not yet.” He caught her left leg. Stroked her calf, worked up her leg and curved his fingers over her thigh. “I don’t think they touched you.”
They wouldn’t have dared. Not if they were following orders, and he suspected that there were definite orders out for Dee.
They’d jerked her around. Had their fun.
Break her, but don’t taste. Not yet.
An old order he’d once heard a vampire give. Sick bastard.
He left his hand on her thigh. Such smooth skin. Such strong muscle beneath the silk.
His teeth ground together. Only one more place to check, and she’d already told him that sweet spot was off limits. “You’re clear,” he gritted and shoved back.
Dee blinked at him. Then her gaze dropped, fell to his crotch, to the bulging hard-on he knew there was no hope of hiding.
Not like he wanted to hide the thing anyway. He wanted Dee. He’d have her. But not when she was still spinning from an attack.
He stepped back, giving her some room, and yanked off his shirt. Simon stared at those breasts. Want them in my mouth. Her scent surrounded him. That deep, rich scent that was Dee.
His cock throbbed.
Could have found her corpse. The stake could have been lodged in her heart.
Then what the hell would I have done?
What. The. Hell?
Simon tossed Dee his shirt. “Cover up.” The thing would swallow her.
Her fingers fisted in the material, catching it easily. “Simon, I—”
“Get. Dressed.” He sucked in a harsh gulp of air. “Or get fucked because, babe, it is a very near thing.” A gentleman, no, he’d never been that. The woman might not realize it, but he was trying for her.
Trying to protect her. From the freaks out there who were after her, and even from himself.
Slowly, taking her sweet time about it, Dee stuck her arms into the sleeves of the shirt. She hadn’t put her bra back on—what, did she want to torture him? He could see the tips of her nipples and he hadn’t gotten to taste them and—
Simon spun away from her. “Just so you know,” he growled. “I was an idiot the other night.” Should have taken her. Would have made things easier.
“Huh.” A pause. “So what’s your excuse now?”
His head swung back toward her. “The concussion that has you trembling, your eyes dilated, and your speech still slurred.” Okay, not really slurred. He’d just thrown that one out for fun and to make his point. The woman was barely on her feet, if he took her, no—no.
“So, when I’m healed, it’s game on?”
What? His eyes slit. “Count on it.” Was this some bluff? Some tease? She’d learn soon enough he wasn’t the teasing kind.
“Good.” Her smile punched him in the gut and had him almost weaving. “Because I’m tired of waiting on your hard-to-get ass.”
The laughter came from him, a little rusty and a little too hard.
That smile of hers widened, showing her pretty white teeth. Then she laughed with him, even as she put up a hand to touch the base of her head.
Oh, shit. He couldn’t look away from the fullness of her lips. I’m in trouble.
Headed straight to hell, following a woman who would never be an angel.
Antonio entered the Night Watch building just before dawn. Hunters milled around, voices buzzed. The place was always the busiest at night.
The darkness was the best cover for catching prey.
He hurried past the line of back offices, a file gripped tightly in his left hand.
Rounding a corner, he headed down that last, lonely stretch of space—
“Sir? Sir, may I help—”
New assistant. Antonio halted. Great. Leave it to Pak to be breaking someone new in now.
Turning slowly, he eyed Pak’s new PA. The woman looked to be pushing seventy. Her hair was a white mane, and her dark eyes were narrowed behind her wire-framed glasses. Her shoulders had stooped with time, just a bit. The woman looked like a small wind could slam her against the wall.
She also looked like she was someone’s grandmother.
But, knowing Pak and the folks he liked to employ, odds were good that the woman was a witch. A demon. Or…who the hell knew what else.
Flashing his badge in a quick move, Antonio said, “I need to speak with Pak. It’s urgent.” Or else he wouldn’t have dragged his butt across town. He would have been at home, in bed, dreaming of—
“Why you want to see him?” Her head cocked. Her thin lips pursed.
His brows rose. “Can’t say, ma’am. This is a private matter.” For now. But when the news got hold of this story…
“Hmmmph.”
Pak’s door opened down the hallway. A soft creak that had Antonio’s shoulders stiffening.
“Antonio, come on in.”
He inclined his head, casting one last glan
ce at the woman. “Ma’am.”
She moved her head in the faintest of regal acknowledgments.
He marched into Pak’s office. The door closed behind him with that same creak.
Pak didn’t sit. The guy just stared at Antonio with his dark, can’t-read-me eyes. After about thirty seconds, Pak asked, “Where is my hunter?” And Antonio knew they were on the same page.
He handed Pak the file. “Don’t know, but we damn well need to find out.” He exhaled and fought to keep his voice flat, unemotional. Hard, that. Because he cared about Dee. More than he’d ever cared for another woman. “We’ve got trouble, Pak.”
The guy that was Night Watch grunted as his eyes scanned the typed notes. “Her fingerprints were on the murder weapon.”
“Doesn’t mean anything,” Antonio said, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He should at least pretend to be impartial, but—this was Dee. “Someone could have lifted one of her weapons. The lady’s got too damn many stakes. I’ve been telling her that for years.” But Dee always had the weapons. She hid them around her apartment for God’s sake. Not that he really blamed her, with her past.
Pak’s fingers whitened around the file. “Someone saw Dee attack the victim on the previous night?”
Yeah, and that shit was the part that was biting them all in the ass. “I’ve got two witnesses who told uniforms they saw Dee fighting with a woman matching the victim’s description the night before. They were behind Onyx. The bartender there ID’d Dee.”
“She was working a case.” A fierce growl. “You know she doesn’t hurt humans.”
Dee’s number one rule. Yeah, he knew it. That was why he was there. “She left the crime scene. We’ve got hair samples that I’m sure will match her.” Had to match, everything else was so nice and neat. Like it had been gift wrapped for him. “Her leaving…man, that doesn’t look good.”
Pak glanced up at him. Those eyes were as dark as a demon’s. Well, when a demon let the glamour drop anyway. “We’re not sure Dee left willingly.”
What?
With steady fingers, Pak placed the file on top of his perfectly arranged desk. “There’s been no contact from Dee since she was last seen by Zane on the mission. Her car is still at the bar. She hasn’t gone back to her house. She’s made no attempt to contact the agency.”
His stomach knotted. “Is she alive?”
One shoulder lifted. “At this point, I can’t say for certain.” A pause. “I can say that Dee would never kill a human.”
Not intentionally, anyway. “What if things got away from her? What if there was an attack and she was fighting the vampires and the woman—the woman attacked her, too?” Made sense. He’d sure been over all the different scenarios a dozen times. Trying to find a reason, an excuse. “She would have acted to defend herself. She would have—”
“She wouldn’t have left on her own. If that’s the way it went down, she would have stayed, waited for the cops.”
True. That was the way Dee worked. Or so he’d thought. “You’re looking for her,” Antonio said, statement, not question.
A nod.
“We’ve got to be careful with this, very careful.” The wrong word, the wrong ear to hear it, and the town would explode. “The vic, she was the niece of Craig Durant—the senator. He’s already been calling the PD, talking to the DA.” He shook his head. “This case won’t disappear easily.” If at all.
No expression crossed Pak’s face. “Thank you for coming to me with this information. I’ll remember how helpful you were to me.”
“Yeah, right.” He ran a hand over his face. His eyes were so grainy they hurt. “When my ass gets tossed off the force for sharing confidential info, I just hope you have a job for me.” He turned away, marching for the door.
“Don’t worry.” Pak’s soft voice. “I will.”
Pak waited for the cop to leave. A good guy, if too grounded in human ways.
He glanced at the manila file, then picked up his cell phone. Dee’s number was one of the few automatically programmed in the phone because she was one of the few who mattered to him.
The text message was short. Simple.
Don’t come in. Cops are hunting you.
Dee wouldn’t go to jail. He’d never let that happen.
Stick to the case. Kill the Born Bastard.
Before the Born succeeded in killing her.
“Why didn’t they kill me?” Dee asked as the first rays of dawn began to appear on the horizon.
Dawn. Her favorite time. She loved it when the light kicked night’s ass across the sky.
Simon sat next to her. They were on his back porch. Small, compact. Two old rocking chairs that reminded her too much of her past.
At her question, he turned to her and his eyes seemed shuttered. “Why do you think you’re still breathing?”
“Don’t know.” She wouldn’t have asked the question if she knew. What was this, some kind of Freud crap? “They’re setting me up, and—”
Her pocket vibrated. No, her phone. She’d jerked on her jeans earlier, knotted Simon’s shirt at her waist, and tried to feel normal. She’d even found her phone, checked the battery, and thought about calling Pak.
She’d also realized that if the vamps were truly setting her up, he might be ass-deep in cops. So she’d waited.
Protocol for an agent in trouble was to wait, stay low for twenty-four hours, then seek contact.
Unless a superior from Night Watch contacted first.
She pulled out her phone. Punched the buttons until she saw her text, then her breath whistled out. “Damn.”
Simon rose. “Trouble?”
Of course. Like good tidings followed her. Dee licked her lips and glanced up at him. “Can I…” Yeah, his gaze had definitely heated with the swipe of her tongue. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. “Can I stay with you? Just for a day or two?”
His gaze was still on her mouth. “I already said you could. Stay as long as you want.” The words were a dark rumble.
Oh, they would so be getting into bed soon. Her head was better now. The swelling had eased. No more black spots danced before her eyes.
Simon had pushed for a visit to the hospital, but she hadn’t wanted to risk that.
Vamps loved hanging out in hospitals. Talk about free and easy access to a blood supply.
If she’d had double vision, if she’d passed out, if she’d vomited on Simon’s sexy self, then, yeah, she would have found a doctor.
But it looked like she’d pull through.
And that she’d get to jump Simon soon.
“You keep saving me,” she told him. Weird. Usually, she did the saving. The protecting. She wasn’t quite sure how to act with him. But twice, twice, he’d saved her butt from the flames.
“You’ll do the same for me.” Absolute certainty.
Her eyes narrowed. That phrasing…it was off. Not, you’d do the same, but you’ll do. She forced a laugh. “Don’t worry. I always pay my debts. In fact, I—”
He caught her arms. “We need to go inside.”
His hold seemed too tight. “Uh, okay.”
Simon’s lips thinned. “I’m…sorry. I’m tired. Hell of a night, you know?”
Oh, yes, she did.
He eased his grip.
And Dee realized he looked tired. There was an edge of darkness under his eyes. The faint lines near his mouth had hardened.
Only fair, considering I probably look like warm hell.
She followed Simon inside. He bolted the back door, rolled his shoulders. Then he asked, voice distracted, “You want some food?”
She’d already had a shower, and sure, food sounded real good right then “Yes, why not?”
His head shot up and his gaze zeroed in on the front door. “Fuck.”
An icy stillness settled over her. “Uh, Simon?”
“Company.”
Understanding hit hard. “And here we are without a welcome mat out.” Weapon. Simon had to—
The window
s exploded. Glass shattered, raining into the room as bullets ripped through the panes.
Shards hit her, cutting deep, and the rapid fire thunder of the guns echoed in her ears.
Sonofabitch.
Dee hit the floor just as the wooden front door burst apart. Bits of wood flew across the room, some biting into her flesh, some scraping the skin right off.
She crawled behind the couch. Pitiful cover, but it was better than nothing. Simon inched toward her. A long trickle of blood ran down the side of his face.
Dee sucked in a quick breath. Whoever was firing—the bastards were sure doing a fine job of shooting up the place.
Where was her gun? Back in that blood-soaked room? Perfect time to be unarmed.
Simon grabbed her shoulder. “We’ve got to run for it,” he whispered.
That didn’t seem like the best option, but then, sitting there and waiting for the assholes with guns to come and shoot her right in the face didn’t seem like such a fine plan, either.
He pointed to the right, to a closed door. “Garage,” he mouthed.
Five feet away. Maybe six. But where were the shooters? Still outside? Or working their way in?
The faint groan of wood reached her ears. The porch was wooden. Old, faded wood. Fuck. Their attackers were getting too close.
“Go!” Simon heaved her up, moving at the same time to cover her back. Dee lunged for the door. How had they found them so quickly? How had—
Bam. Bam.
One bullet cut right across her shoulder. Sonofabitch.
Using her left hand, she jerked open the door.
Simon hit a button on the wall even as he fell into her. They tumbled down three steps, hit the concrete, hard, and staggered up in a tangle of limbs and curses.
The Mustang waited. Black coat gleaming. Dee jumped into the passenger seat even as more bullets flew. Simon took the wheel.
The garage door was opening—must have been a door control that he hit before—
“Here.” He dug under the seat. “Get those bastards off our backs.”
A gun. A sweet, black Beretta that fit perfectly in her hands.
Two assholes in black appeared, heading down the steps into the garage. Ski masks covered their faces and their guns were up.
