by S. K. Ryder
“Yes, it was. Your mother.”
“Why is she calling you?”
“Because you don’t answer your phone during the day. And because she wanted to know where you were.” She hesitated. He waited. “So she could catch a cab to the right hotel.”
The tentative words slapped him in the face. “When?”
“This afternoon.” Cassidy shrugged an apology. “She wants to know if you’re available yet. She’s down the hall.”
~ ~ ~
Dominic never had a chance.
He knocked on his mother’s hotel room door with every intention of sending her away. He didn’t have time for her on this trip. She wasn’t safe here. Heaven help them if a hostile blood-drinker discovered her identity.
The moment she opened the door and planted kisses on his cheeks, a cloud of her beloved orange-spiced lavender scent closed in, and he was five years old again. She explained that she had come because of the call he had placed from the plane that morning. He had sounded ‘strange.’ She was worried.
“I am well. Truly,” he promised. “But my time is very limited here.” To a little less than nine hours, to be exact, which was all the darkness he would get this night.
“Ah, non. I have come so far. And you were busy the entire day. Surely you can make some time for your mother tonight.”
“I—”
“We will have a nice dinner at one of the finest restaurants in the city. You, me, and Cassidy. I so want to get to know her better.”
“Maman, this is not a good time.”
“Words you will regret once I am gone. Now go on. Get out of those rags and do something with that hair. We have reservations at Bishop’s, and I am almost ready to go. I will come to your room.” Again she kissed his cheeks and gripped his arm. “I have always wanted to see this city. We will have a fantastic time.” With that, she closed the door in his face.
Dominic leaned his forehead against the door in silent capitulation. “Merde.” Had she always been this bossy? And why was being a blood-drinker—the Lord of Night, no less—no defense against her effect on him?
Because she was his mother, of course. He cursed again and returned to his suite.
Garrett whistled softly when Dominic entered. “That’s a new look for you.”
Jackson looked at him in open-mouthed astonishment. The illusion of a vigorous mortal male he had spun for his mother was still in effect. He didn’t dispel it. But he ordered them to dispel themselves.
Or tried to.
“What do you mean we’re not doing anything tonight?” Jackson asked.
“You two get caught up on your rest. I will search for Isao later on my own.”
Cassidy looked at him with a small, knowing smile. “We’re going out to dinner, aren’t we?”
“We are,” he said darkly.
“I thought as much.” She smoothed her blouse, the front of her skirt, brushed back a stray hair. Ready to go.
“Dinner?” Jackson wondered.
“You two. Out,” Dominic snapped and vanished into the bedroom to make himself presentable as ordered.
He heard his mother’s voice again the moment the door opened to let out the hunters. “Oh, and who are you?”
They introduced themselves.
“No, no, no,” Dominic chanted under his breath as he brushed his hair into submission.
“You are the same Jackson who is brother to Samantha? She is such a lovely young woman.”
“That’s me, yes.”
“They were just leaving, Maman,” he said, emerging from the bedroom.
Garrett’s face split into a grin. “This beautiful lady is your mother?” Before Dominic could say anything, Garrett lifted her fingers to his lips. “It is such an honor to meet you, madame.”
“Oh.” Francesca looked surprised, but not displeased. “Enchanté.”
“My nephew and I work closely with your son and have for many years.”
“In that case you must join us for dinner. I want to hear all about your work.”
Dominic shook his head. “Non.”
“It would be our pleasure. Wouldn’t it, Jack?”
“What? Oh. Yes, of course.”
Cassidy turned away to smother a grin. “Checkmate, my love,” she said under her breath.
And so it was. Francesca ruled the evening. Or at least she did after he won his one and only argument with her, that being the question of where they would eat. He drew a firm line at parading his entire human entourage across a city where a hostile blood-drinker was looking for him.
Instead of cabbing it to Bishop’s, they walked into Five Sails, one of the hotel’s on-site restaurants. He allowed himself a moment’s compulsion to get them seated right away despite having no reservations. As they were led to a table with a spectacular view of the night-black bay surrounded by a shimmering necklace of light, he scanned the area. There were no blood-drinkers nor humans who appeared to recognize him. Still, he kept his senses keyed for any signs of supernatural danger.
But it was a human irritant that continued to scratch at his nerves. Together with Cassidy and Jackson, he watched Garrett morph into an unlikely Prince Charming as he offered Francesca his arm, regaled her with compliments, and practiced his limited French on her.
“It is so refreshing to meet a true gentleman outside of France,” Francesca told him.
“We’re not complete heathens in the colonies,” Garrett assured and took the seat beside her. “Especially not around a woman as stunning as yourself.”
Dominic wrestled with the urge to drag Garrett away by the throat. The man was a monster in human guise who had tortured him to within an inch of his immortal life. He killed with abandon. He was a soldier, a warrior, and a hunter. And he had no business even knowing a woman like Francesca, much less speak to her like this.
The wine had been poured and the first course served by the time Dominic could see past the haze of fury far enough to catch a glimpse of what was really happening here. Though he didn’t quite trust it until Francesca asked for the third time, “But what is it you do for my son’s firm?”
The other times she inquired, Garrett delivered a vague answer with a bright smile and turned the conversation to France or Saint Barthélemy. “Whatever is necessary,” he said now. “But as I was saying—”
“Jackson?” Francesca prompted. “What do you do?”
Jackson put his fork down and finished chewing a mouthful of salad. “Security, ma’am. We do security.”
“Oh.” Her lipsticked mouth became as round as her eyes. “Oh, I see. This is . . . secret work, non?”
“Very,” Jackson confirmed.
“Basically, we have your son’s back,” Garrett added. He picked up his wine and gestured at Dominic with it. “No matter what sort of pickle he gets himself into, no matter what we need to do to get him out of it. Right, Nick?”
Dominic held the intense look that said he was in one of those pickles right now. “Apparently so.”
Francesca placed her hand on Garrett’s forearm where it rested on the table. “Then you have my undying gratitude.”
“What is going on with him?” Cassidy muttered into her water glass.
A mystery, Dominic decided. One he didn’t know what to do with right now, except to be grudgingly grateful for.
“And my daughter-in-law is under your protection, too?” Francesca inquired.
“Your—?” Jackson started.
Garrett’s mind shifted more quickly. “Yes. Cassidy’s safety is a top priority with us.”
Cassidy groaned under her breath, no doubt recalling getting shot by this man. On purpose.
“I am so glad to know this.” Francesca beamed at Cassidy who seemed to drag a smile to her face by
its scruff.
For two hours Dominic spun illusions of enjoying his nonexistent meal and watched Garrett steer Francesca around countless conversational land mines. She was stronger and more stubborn than Dominic remembered, and he wondered if the trauma of losing her husband and children had worked this change. If so, she had, in a way, been forged by the same dark fire that had consumed him. She even appeared to find solace in the same against-all-odds hope and love that sustained her son. Dominic’s heart pinched at the thought.
As the meal progressed, Cassidy touched less and less of her food, becoming increasingly quiet. By the time dessert was served, she swayed in her seat, a glassy sheen in her eyes. “Migraine,” she whispered when she saw him studying her gray pallor.
Dominic requested the check and made their excuses the moment Garrett snatched it away and dropped his card on it. The hunters concurred. Francesca’s disappointment at cutting the evening short was palpable, but she could not sway their united front.
Back in their suite, Cassidy beelined for the bathroom and lost what little she had eaten. Then she sprawled on the bed with a cold washcloth to her brow. “This whole thing is making my head explode,” she groaned. “Literally.”
Dominic didn’t doubt it. There was also no doubt that there would be no romance in the air tonight. In fact, when he sat beside her, she shooed him away. “Don’t waste your night playing nursemaid. Go find this Isao guy.”
He kissed her cheek and went to change into his leathers.
Where to begin the search? There had been no trace of Isao in Natalia’s memories, much less his whereabouts. Nor had she been with the colony long enough to be familiar with their summer habits. Though Dominic had a good idea what he would do if he lived at this latitude and found his nights growing shorter and shorter—move south. Way south.
Garrett lay in wait for him in the hallway when Dominic emerged. “I’m coming with you.”
“You are not.” Dominic laced his voice with enough compulsion to convey the warning. Garrett was trained to resist it up to a point.
“You sound adamant,” the old hunter observed, grim-faced, hands on his hips.
Dominic tilted his head in a gesture of astonishment.
“Okay. Fine. But you have my number if you get into another pickle. And for what it’s worth, I can see where you get your—well, everything. Your mother is quite a lady.”
He stared. “Garrett Striker. That is not truly a compliment I hear, is it?”
The man worked his jaw as though trying to recall the words, but then capitulated with a shrug. “Take it any way you want. But know that it’ll be my pleasure to keep an eye on her. For security,” he added.
Dominic arched a brow. “And only that.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “For she is a lady, but I know you are no gentleman.”
He vanished before Garrett could even think about a reply.
Chapter 15
Lost and Found
Dominic rode the borrowed Ducati through every street in downtown Vancouver and far into the city’s sprawling outskirts. He kept the visor on the helmet up to taste the air as it flowed around him. Sea salt, wet earth, exhaust, and the occasional whiff of dumpster and urine greeted his nose. But no blood-drinkers. Nor did he spot any bright vampire auras amidst the ocean of lights, nothing that stood out as in any way unusual in this sensory cacophony.
With no clues to go on, he could only search so many places and only out in the open. The skyscrapers and suburban sprawl could have hidden thousands.
Or not.
As he rode, he tuned into the dark web. There were no blood-drinkers sired to him in this city, no distinct bubbles of awareness for him to home in on. He could make out only a handful of others, ghosts drifting in a vast emptiness and impossible to pinpoint without Cassidy’s help.
He cursed under his breath. With her condition being what it was—and a sense of wonder continued to suffuse him every time he thought of it—he would have to learn to function without her human sensibilities merged into his awareness. He was reasonably sure his bite wouldn’t harm the baby. But giving her his blood for this deeper connection was something else again.
Several fruitless hours later, he thought he would have to at least discuss it with her. A misty rain set in, creating a haze, coating his face, and trickling down the back of his neck into the collar of his jacket. All around, the city swelled with activity, bracing for the coming day.
Discouraged, Dominic turned back toward the hotel.
And found a blood-drinker.
While he waited at an intersection in the city’s downtown core, a black Ford Mustang cruised past with a blazing white aura at the wheel. He caught sight of her just as she saw him. Darkish hair, warm makeup, lips parted in surprise. She didn’t stop. Opening the throttle, he bolted after her, heedless of lights and honks and screeching brakes.
She wove through traffic, tires hissing on the wet asphalt, remaining just this side of the law. Dominic had no trouble keeping up as he considered her identity. According to Isao, no vampires besides him survived in this city without Adilla’s favor, but all of Adilla’s colony except perhaps for Esteban had left the city. This made her either a friend of Isao’s, a tool of Esteban’s, or a clueless new arrival. Regardless the case, Dominic needed to know, and he needed to know it before the sun came up even if that meant pursuing her straight into her lair.
He was torn between hoping she would lead him to Isao or lure him to Adilla. He would take either, but as she cruised along Highway 1, heading east and south for the better part of an hour, he began to prefer the latter. If he could end this tonight and go home, he would.
By the time she turned onto quieter streets in Surrey, the ocean tang was a distant memory. The streets became narrower as they cut through commercial and residential neighborhoods and finally lost themselves in an industrial district dominated by mills, truck depots, and junk yards. With enough speed to send dirt and gravel flying, the Mustang turned into a deserted lot. What appeared to be a mid-sized warehouse waited there, windowless and shuttered, its loading docks empty.
Dominic caught her split-second glance in his direction as she got out of her car. Then the wet shadows swallowed the muted colors of her outfit into an indistinct smear as she disappeared. The sole visible door emitted a groaning squeal and fell shut behind her.
Through the veil of rain, Dominic couldn’t see the sky brightening in the east, but he could feel the coming sun anyway. There was barely enough time to return to the hotel, but he had come too far to let this opportunity go now. He sensed no other blood-drinkers. Only the one he had pursued here, and who might or might not have the answers he needed.
He parked the bike, leaving it running, tossed the helmet aside and sped after her. If she hesitated so much as a second to volunteer those answers, he would rip them out of her head.
He got as far as the door.
The stale air that quaffed out carried the stink of rancid blood and burned flesh. Every hair on his body lifted in silent alarm. Somewhere in the building’s depths another door clicked shut, taking her heartbeat with it. Hiding. But from what? The blood-drinker she had led here? Why?
Dominic stepped back out into the rain and let the door close on a plaintive squeak. Answers or not, if he walked into another trap, there would be no hope for him this time.
Leaving the mystery of the warehouse where he found it, he made his way back to the hotel with ten minutes to spare—and a plan.
~ ~ ~
Shortly after sunset, Jackson hobbled down the hall, dreading the moment he would have to knock on Dominic’s door and report on this complete disaster of a day. This morning, it had been Dominic who had startled Jackson and Garrett out of bed with insistent pounding on their door. Before vanishing, he gave them an address in Surrey and terse instructions on wh
at to do there.
Getting blown up had not been part of the plan.
By now, with the shock and adrenaline long gone, everything hurt. Between the bruises, cracked ribs, swollen and unreliable knee, and the angry red road rash that ran up the left side of his body and continued onto his face, Jackson’s almost twenty-seven-year-old body had fast-forwarded to ninety-seven.
And explaining any of this to Dominic of all people was going to rankle.
The Lord of Night himself answered the door, rumpled and mussed from his rest. His hazel eyes widened as he looked Jackson up and down, taking in the bandages and stiff posture. “Come in, chèr. Sit.”
When Jackson took a limping step toward the nearest chair, Dominic compounded his awkwardness by rushing to grab it and turn it so Jackson could drop into it with a minimum of effort.
Cassidy emerged from the bedroom and stopped short. “Oh my God. Jackson. That looks way worse than the few scratches and bruises you mentioned.”
He gave a tight smile. The muscles in his face also hurt. He’d been popping ibuprofen like candy, the strongest thing he was willing to take. His head needed to remain clear no matter how messed up the rest of him was. “I’ll manage.” He wiggled the finger stumps on his right hand. “I’ve been through worse. Remember?”
“Mon dieu,” Dominic murmured and pulled up another chair so he could sit facing Jackson. Cassidy settled into the sofa nearby, worry etched on her face.
The TV was on low, tuned to a local station and displaying an aerial view of a warehouse in flames. A banner along the bottom proclaimed Human Remains Found in Surrey Fire. Knowing their fuck-up would be widely reported, he had called Cassidy to let her know he and Garrett had walked away—more or less—but spared her every detail.
“Looks like you saw how our morning went down.”
Dominic leaned his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands. All calm. All business. “What happened?”
