by Celia Jade
Her jaw dropped. “What? Now?” She glanced at the digital clock of her entertainment system. “Can’t I come in tomorrow morning?”
“Standard procedure, Ms. Dubois. This is serious, you know. You could be facing charges of obstructing justice.” The scare tactic was a bit cruel, but he told her the truth.
She stood and jutted her chin up. “Fine. Can I at least change into something else? I was at the gym.”
Dex yanked his gaze away from her before it went wayward again. “Of course.”
* * * *
Stephanie hastened to her bedroom, glad for the temporary reprieve, despite the panic pressing down on her lungs. Mechanically, she removed all her clothes and pulled on fresh underwear, a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved top. A shower was out of the question, but at least her workout hadn’t been intense. All the while, defensive scenarios raced through her head and she wasn’t sure which would be the most plausible. This was bad. Real bad. Besides the interrogation to come, her brothers would eventually find out she was at the scene of their bounty operation because of those damn pictures. How the hell was she supposed to explain herself? They’d probably never speak to her again…and Mom…God. Her heart constricted.
This agent was a hound dog. Lying would only get her into deeper shit. A wave of dizziness washed through her. She leaned against the closet door and dragged in several long breaths until the objects in the room stopped spinning. Then she walked the short distance to the bathroom where she splashed water on her face and released her hair from the elastic band. There were equal amounts of anger and anxiety in the reflection that stared back at her from the mirror.
When she returned to the living room, the agent was standing by the window, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark pants. She thought there was a hint of broodiness in his profile, but his expression was composed and formal when he turned to her.
“I’m ready,” she said, and crossed to the small foyer to get her jacket and her bag.
Chapter Four
He led her to a black, unmarked SUV and motioned for her to get into the back seat. Stephanie fumed in silence as the large engine purred to life. If it weren’t for her pigheaded brothers, she wouldn’t be in this nasty jam. No matter, she didn’t regret trying to help Jason. She let out a weary breath and leaned back in the seat. Her gaze swept over the inside of the vehicle. Part of the dashboard and the middle console were equipped with an assortment of technical devices such as a GPS and a laptop, and a few others she didn’t recognize.
Inevitably, her attention shifted to him. Agent Dex Mason. He had good hair, thick and short with neat sideburns. His profile was in shadow, but she could still follow the defined cheekbone, the straight nose and the square angle of his jaw, which set off a warm flutter low in her belly. For the second time in about thirty minutes. Actually, when she’d first seen him, a shockwave had gone through her. Unsettling but not unpleasant. She hadn’t been prepared for the impact of those unusual, smoky eyes, the rugged face and tall, muscled build. Her fingers curled in her lap. He had a sexy voice to boot…deep velvet.
Disturbed by her reaction to him, Stephanie leaned her elbow against the window sill and cradled her head, eyes closed. The pending interrogation loomed ahead, but she didn’t want to think about it now. In any case, she’d have to tell them about Kyle and Patrick’s mission without getting them in hot water. When her brothers learned of her meddling, it would tear another gash in their relationship. Despite their faults, she didn’t hate them.
The vehicle slowed and she opened moist eyes, blinked quickly, and looked up at the attractive, brown-brick building they were pulling into through an open garage door. Her back straightened and she gripped the headrest of the front seat as the vehicle went down an incline and entered a large underground parking lot.
“Is this VCI headquarters?” she demanded as a tremor of unease went through her. She’d been too upset to question the protocol for interrogations. Didn’t two investigators normally show up at people’s doors?
“Relax, Ms. Dubois. You’re perfectly safe…just give me a moment to park and I’ll explain everything.”
His words failed to comfort her. Something was off.
He cut the engine, unbuckled his seat belt, and shifted around to look at her. “Ms. Dubois, I care about this case very much. But I care about something—someone—else much more.”
She gave him a guarded look while she wondered if the doors were locked and if she could make it out of the garage before he caught her. “I don’t understand,” she replied while summoning to mind every self-defense skill she knew.
“I could make your present problem go away, all of it. On one condition.”
Oh, God…this wasn’t happening. Her hand inched toward the door handle and his perceptive eyes picked up the motion.
He gestured in supplication. “Don’t get me wrong. Can I call you Stephanie?”
Her nerves were ready to snap. “Just tell me what’s going on,” she clipped.
A muscle flexed in his jaw as he exhaled a rough breath. “Stephanie, my brother suffers from a genetic disorder. The only person who can help him is a dhampir who carries a rare gene mutation.”
Her heart made an erratic skip and a different sort of panic shot through her. She yanked her gaze from his keen eyes. He couldn’t know…it was a coincidence. Finally, she put on a blank look. “What does that have to do with me?”
He regarded her for a moment. “I’ve been doing this job a long time. We both know you’re withholding some information. You don’t want people to know that you’re part vampire?”
A miasma of confusion leaked into her mind, clouding her logic. Impossible. Her mouth went dry. “You’re mistaken.” She yanked the handle, but the door didn’t budge. “Let me out.”
“If that’s the issue, I promise your secret’s safe with me.”
“I’m not part…anything. You’re nuts.”
The muscle in his jaw clenched again. “I have the means to pay you a considerable amount of money if you help. All he needs is a blood transfusion.”
This was getting out of hand. “I don’t want your money.”
“So you’d rather go in for questioning, face charges of obstructing law enforcement…expose your personal life in full.”
She stared at him for several seconds, unable to breathe. As the full meaning of his words sank in, she raised her hand to smack his face, but restrained the urge. Hitting him would put her in a worse predicament.
Instead, she grinded her teeth together and replied, “Blackmail’s against the law.”
The bleakness that dimmed his eyes snagged her breath. Heavy silence stretched between them for a moment. “He’s going to die before his time if he doesn’t get this transfusion.”
Die.
The oxygen left her lungs in one breathless gasp and her hand dropped to the seat. She swallowed around the tightness in her throat, as though that awful word had lodged itself there.
“Just meet him, Stephanie. Please.”
A battle waged in her head, morals against good judgment. She decided it wasn’t a matter of whether she believed him. She did. “Open the door.”
His eyes flickered with assessment. Then he turned a little and there was a soft click.
Stephanie stepped out of the vehicle and crossed toward the single underground entrance to the building, relieved to put some space between herself and this rugged vampire. It didn’t take him long to catch up, of course. Although he shortened his steps to match hers, she sensed the power in his tall build, the agility in his stride. It caused another one of those quivers, only this time it went through her like an electric current.
Damn it. The man was ruthless and unprincipled—he shouldn’t have this effect on her.
“This doesn’t mean I’ve agreed to anything,” she stated as they walked toward the elevators.
A fraction of a pause followed her comment. “Of course,” he replied.
Stephanie met his gaze
in the mirrored wall of the elevator. “Tell me one thing. Why do you assume I’m dhampir?” The calmness of her voice surprised her. Only two people knew her genetic makeup was one third vampire. One was Maryann and the other a very discreet doctor who worked in a private clinic.
His gaze dipped to her mouth for a fleeting moment and she had to stifle the urge to lick her lips.
“It’s best that Victor explains everything to you.”
Who the heck was Victor? She pulled a face and broke eye contact. Five minutes later, she was walking through one of the most impressive condos she’d ever seen. It had the airy space typical of a loft—open-concept, high ceilings and floor to ceiling windows with mountain and city views, yet it was apparent there were rooms beyond the main living space.
Normally, she would have made a nice comment, but this wasn’t a normal situation. She dragged her eyes away from a wall of exposed brick and looked at the man who was wreaking havoc in her life. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to speak.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked.
“No, thanks.” She was anxious to get this over with.
The sound of light footsteps reached her from the hallway and she turned her attention to the source: a wiry man of indefinable age—somewhere between sixty and late seventies—with angular features and unusual, silvery eyes. She guessed he was an old vampire. Although ancient vampires once lived an immeasurable length of time, the vampire species evolved to survive in a human environment. Today’s vampires were able to walk in daylight and function like most humans, but now they only lived an average of about one hundred and twenty years.
“Stephanie, this is Victor. He’s a friend and a seer.”
Not sure what to make of this man, she just inclined her head. The old man responded with a warm smile as his strange eyes reached into her, causing a shiver in her chest. She suspected the man could penetrate any soul with one such look.
Then his brow furrowed. “My dear, you’re obviously upset.” He shot the agent a sharp glance. “You shouldn’t see Ray unless you’re composed. He’s got cystic fibrosis and he’s rather weak today.”
She frowned. “Isn’t that a lung disease?”
The man gave a brief nod. “In its basic form, yes. But it causes several health complications.”
Stephanie wanted an explanation upfront, but she felt compelled to see this ill man first. “Agent Mason said you’d explain why I’m here, but I’d like to see him…Ray…first. I’m fine.”
Victor regarded her a moment before nodding. “Okay, Stephanie. He doesn’t know who you are or why you’re here. I’ll introduce you as a friend of Dex’s.”
“I’ll make myself a drink and wait here,” Agent Mason said, and she resisted the urge to look at him before following Victor.
Stephanie thought she’d braced herself, but when she saw the young man propped up against a pillow in bed, a piece of her heart broke. Young people shouldn’t be stuck in bed, attached to a ventilator machine.
He pulled the mask away from his face and slipped it into a cradle on the rectangular device on the bedside table. Once he turned a dial on the device, the suction murmur stopped.
“Hi there.” His brown eyes smiled at her with curiosity before shifting to Victor. “You didn’t tell me I had a visitor. I would have put on something decent.”
Stephanie noted the Broncos jersey he wore and returned his smile. “It’s cool. I’m a fan.”
“Ray, this is Stephanie. She’s a friend of Dex’s.”
Ray inclined his head. “Nice to meet you, although I don’t recall any time Dex brought a female friend to my place.” A mischievous smile danced across his mouth. “You’re dating.”
The playful remark brought heat to her cheeks. “Em…no.”
A raspy chuckle sounded in his chest as he raised his hands in defeat. “Okay, no more inappropriate comments.”
His charm was natural, appealing. “This is a great home. Do you live here alone?” she asked.
“No, I’ve got Victor, and Dex is here almost every day.”
Her gaze went to the ventilator as an unvoiced question pressed against her mouth.
Ray followed her gaze and said, “That baby helps keep me alive for now.”
“How long have you been ill?”
“Technically, I was ill before I knew it because cystic fibrosis is a genetic disorder. But the infections got much worse about a year ago.” A cough shook his chest and he took a moment to clear his throat. “It’s compromised my immune system, so I work mostly from home.”
A frown pulled at her mouth. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ray.”
He smiled. “It hasn’t gotten the best of me.”
Tears pricked her eyes and she quickly forced them back. “What do you do?”
“Software development.”
“Ah, a tech guy.” She smiled. As a graphic artist, she had a special appreciation for computer professionals.
“Total geek.” A sparkle lit his eyes as he grinned.
Stephanie took a quick liking to him and decided that this man deserved some of her blood if it would treat his illness, though she was still pissed about being blackmailed. “It was nice meeting you, Ray. Take care of yourself,” she said with a note of firm encouragement.
“Same here, Stephanie. Hope to see you again.”
She waved her goodbye and followed Victor out and into a book-laden study. Agent Mason wasn’t there.
“Have a seat, my dear. There are some things I need to explain to you.”
She nodded. “I’m listening.”
“I’m not a physician, but I’ve been well informed about Ray’s condition. Basically, the disease causes thick mucus to develop in the lungs and the pancreas. It makes him susceptible to infections like bronchitis and pneumonia. In humans, adult cystic fibrosis is milder and more controllable, but for some unknown reason, in vampires, the disease is aggressive.”
He drew in an audible breath and his unusual eyes clouded over. “Eventually, his lungs will stop functioning. His doctor estimated he’d live another ten years at best.”
Stephanie absorbed the grim news in brief silence. “So how will my blood help him…and would I be a good match? I’m part vampire.”
“You carry a rare mutant RNA gene that will directly target the cystic fibrosis gene and destroy it. His doctor has estimated that two transfusions are all he needs. And yes, vampires can receive blood from a dhampir.”
She ran unsteady fingers through her hair. She was aware of her mutant gene, which posed no threat to her, but this man’s knowledge of it was uncanny and rather creepy. “Victor, how do you know about my gene?”
He pulled open the top drawer of the desk and placed a drawing on the surface. “This image. I saw it clearly in a vision and instantly sensed that you were the dhampir with the mutant gene that could save Ray.”
She picked up the drawing of her tattoo and her eyes widened. An almost perfect reproduction. With her eyes fixed on the drawing, she asked, “You drew this?”
“Yes. I realize how bizarre this must seem to you, Stephanie, but I never doubted my connection.”
They fell silent for a moment. “It’s a tattoo I got last year. It’s my design.”
It was two and a half inches long and two inches wide. Her inspiration for the tattoo came from the legend of the Celtic goddess Cerridwen, who represents rebirth and inspiration. From this, she’d created an image of a dark-haired woman sitting within a crescent moon, a metal circle of intricate weave on her forehead and a small, jeweled cauldron in one hand. Her free hand has lifted a drop of blood in the shape of a tear from the cauldron.
Her finger traced the curve of the moon.
“Why did you get it?”
She raised her eyes to his and put the drawing down. “I came to terms with…something personal.”
The lucent eyes flickered with awareness. “Yet, it still burdens you.”
His statement confirmed her origi
nal impression of him—those eyes of his could strip a soul bare.
Something occurred to her. “This transfusion, it would take place in a medical clinic with official documents and all, right?”
Victor inclined his head. “Of course. You’ll be tested for anemia and transmissible diseases, although I’m sure you’re as healthy as a horse.”
Alarm shot through her. “But that means my name will appear on those papers. I can’t have that. My family doesn’t know…” She got up and walked over to the doorframe, pressing her palm against the wood. Her head had begun to ache.
Seconds later, a hand cupped her shoulder. “The administrator of the clinic is a personal friend. You’ll go in as a Jane Doe. You have my word. And we have nothing to gain by hurting you.”
She supposed it made sense, but there was still a slim risk. “My mutant gene will definitely stop the disease?” she queried.
“Yes. It will be…a miracle cure, my dear.” He paused. “Has Dex mentioned he is prepared to pay you for your help?”
Stephanie exhaled a tired breath. “Yes, but I couldn’t accept money for this.” She shook her head. “I just wanted to do the right thing, to help a friend. I didn’t expect to end up here, faced with holding someone’s life in my hands.” Her mouth pulled into a frown. “Agent Mason blackmailed me to see his brother.”
“I’m truly sorry about that, Stephanie, but put yourself in his shoes.”
She closed her eyes and after a long moment, silently admitted that she’d go to great lengths for her family, too, though she’d probably use less manipulative tactics. When she opened her eyes, she decided that she’d eliminate one immediate problem before going ahead with this.
She looked at the old man, whose hopeful expression tugged at her heart. “I’ll help Ray because I like him, not because his brother coerced me. But there’s something Agent Mason needs to do first.” Stephanie walked out of the room and marched down the hall before Victor had a chance to say anything more.
Agent Mason was standing by the living room window, sporting a sober expression. He looked her way and said, “Stephanie, are you leaving?”
