by Victoria Zak
After popping the pan into the oven, Charlee licked the batter off the mixer beater.
“God.” She closed her eyes. “This tastes like heaven.”
Leaning her hip against the counter, she studied the living room, reminiscing. It was just as Gran had left it; antique plates and tea pots decorated the shelves, collecting dust she hadn’t had time to clean. Framed pictures of distant memories were on display on the mantel above the fireplace. She set the beater down on the counter and walked into the living room. Gran had loved photos. Charlee picked up a gold frame and dusted it off with her shirt. She chuckled. It was a shot of her in her high school cheerleading uniform with big poufy hair and skinny legs. Such a time of innocence.
She replaced the frame and another photograph caught her attention. One of RC pushing her on a swing hanging from one of the oak trees in her backyard. She traced his smiling face with her finger—a somber feeling crept in. They had been so happy back then. Could they find happiness again? She tried to push his current circumstances to the back of her mind. It didn’t matter how drastically his world had changed. Could love bridge the gap between them?
God, she hoped so.
Charlee stepped back from the mantel, still admiring the family photos. One particular image of Gran and Pop Pop stared back at her. Every wrinkle that etched their faces told a story of how devoted they had been. They built this home out of love. As if the gray cloud had lifted, Charlee’s answers unfolded right before her. She just hoped she could weather the storm long enough to build a new life. That new life with RC started as soon as he came down for breakfast. She was willing to do whatever it took to be with the man she loved.
Someone knocked on the front door and she rushed to the window. A black limousine with tinted windows was parked out front. What is Mace doing here? Quickly, she took down her hair and finger-combed the strands into submission. What could he possibly want?
She opened the door. Two hooded men pushed their way inside. Before she could scream, one of them covered her mouth with a damp cloth. She kicked and struggled, but the man behind her held on tight. She gave in to the sweet, chemical smell on the cloth and everything went black.
12
Kit slammed his coffee cup into the automatic java cave and pushed the strong setting until the damn button almost broke. He’d been sucking down coffee all night like it was water. The lead he was piecing together had run straight to Mace Wrathmore, aka a dhampir’s worst nightmare. The bloodsuckers back at the D&D were working for the king of the underground, but what he couldn’t figure out was why.
The club was above ground, and until a few days ago, a safe place for half-breeds to unwind. He knew Val and Vin wouldn’t tip off the enemy; they were allies. Well, as close as one could be with demons. So, how had those bastards known when they would be at the club?
That was the question bogging down this whole operation and pissing him off. What were the vampires up to? He tapped his index finger on the table while considering his dilemma.
With Wrathmore having announced a hefty bounty on a half-breed’s head, someone could have tipped them off. It was a real possibility. But, who? Something was off, he could feel it. The gunmen weren’t discreet. In fact, all out, balls-to-the-wall shooting in a busy place seemed out of character for the vampires the Cowboys usually dealt with. There was more to this mystery.
Kit mentally retraced that night’s events. The shots had come from upstairs first, then chaos had broken out. This had to be a botched hit. Kit scratched the stubble on his chin. “Shit!” He slammed his fist on the table, sending his cup sailing to the floor. He was right back at the beginning. Who were these assholes after?
Forgetting about his coffee, Kit strode back behind his command station and then plopped down in his office chair, leaning back until the damn thing almost cracked in two. He shoved his hands through his sandy brown hair. Usually he shined under pressure, calm as a horse grazing in a pasture, but frustration had gotten the best of him. He needed to clear his mind.
It occurred to him that two hours had passed since he’d checked on RC’s human. Like he had time to babysit. In a frustrated huff, Kit wheeled in closer to a set of computer monitors, then rewound the camera footage back a few hours. He then forwarded through the black and gray images of the previous night. He leaned in and recognized a familiar truck pulling into Charlee’s driveway.
“What the hell? RC?” They were on lockdown. “Sly fuck.” Kit continued searching through the footage. Looked as if the lovers reconciled as he watched RC carry Charlee over the threshold, then shoot the camera a warming middle finger greeting.
Everything seemed in place over in loversville. He bet the lovebirds were chirping all night long. Kit shook his head, refusing to allow himself to envy RC. The one female he’d dared to love had ripped him to shreds inside and feasted on his heart. No thank you, I’ll pass on the love-stricken fool card.
With thirty minutes left on the surveillance tape, Kit had seen enough and was about to pick up where he left off on the bloodsuckers, when an image blipped off and on the screen.
“No, don’t tell me I need another software update.” Kit punched keys with fast determination to fix the blasted glitch. Another blip. He sobered and drew closer to the monitor. Two men dressed in black, hooded faces…vampires? Nah, the sun was up. He checked his watch. The sun had just peeked…no, it was too risky. He froze as he watched one of the men carry Charlee’s limp body into the limo. “Sweet Lilith! They’ve got Charlee!” Kit jumped out of the chair. “Where’s RC?”
Pulling out his cell, he speed-dialed RC. “Come on, pick up, you bastard.” He paced. “Fuck, voicemail.”
Kit redialed as he grabbed his hat and rushed out of the lab. He raced down the hall to the elevator, the door slid open, and he strode in. Since the Cowboys were on lockdown, he knew Clay would be deep into his morning routine and easy to find. “Shit, voicemail again.”
The doors hissed open, and like a caged animal being freed, Kit hit the hallway running, pressing redial on his cell. It all made sense now. Those bloodsuckers weren’t after the Cowboys; they were after Charlee. And now, possibly RC.
He busted down the door, entering the compound out of breath.
Tibbs shot up from the couch with a pistol aimed at Kit’s head. “Fuck, man. I almost pulled the trigger.”
“Where’s Clay? We have a situation,” Kit said, breathing heavy from the adrenaline rush.
“What in damnation?” Clay came out of his room and passed the shattered door. “Kit?”
“Clay, we have a situation. RC’s human has been abducted by the same bloodsuckers from the club. I just put the pieces together. They weren’t after us. They were after Charlee.”
All the color washed from Clay’s face. “Where’s RC?”
Tibbs coughed.
“The surveillance last showed him at Charlee’s house and that was over…” He looked at his watch, “Eleven hours ago. And I can’t reach him on his cell.”
Clay glared at Tibbs. “He broke lockdown?”
“Look, before you go jumpin’ my shit,” Tibbs said, “I gave him his keys. He was driving me crazy, sulking. He needed his woman.”
“Do we have a lead on Charlee?” Clay asked.
“No—wait,” Kit said.
If the vampires at the club were behind her abduction, he’d know. Before he’d let the attacker go, he’d injected him with a GPS microchip. The last few days Kit had been following the man, and up until now it had been a bust. Kit ran into his room and grabbed his laptop, popping it open in record time. Some fast typing and a few seconds later, bingo, he had the subject pinned above ground. “Got it. They’re headed west on Bio Hazard Road.”
“That’s in the middle of the desert,” Tibbs said.
Irritated, Clay grabbed his keys and set the plan in motion. “Kit, keep tabs on the suspect. Tibbs, keep trying to reach RC. We’re going after Charlee. And Kit.”
“Yeah, Hoss?”
; “I want to know every detail on the way, understood?”
Kit nodded. Shit, they weren’t dealing with vamps.
RC immersed himself beneath the spray. Only a cold shower could ease the tension between his legs. When he’d made Charlee the offer to come back to bed, he’d hoped she would take it. He loved her strawberry cupcakes, but he’d much rather bury himself in her cupcake. After a few minutes of tossing and turning with his dick standing at full attention, he did what any sexed-up male with no other options would do, and hit the shower.
Water streamed off his broad back and chest, intensifying the fiery trails Charlee had left behind with her nails. He leaned back, wetting his hair, then scrubbed his face. Just the thought of her hands on his body sent him into a lustful frenzy, which wasn’t helping his hard-on predicament. He grabbed the soap and lathered his chest. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her. He saw it in her eyes and felt it in her touch; she’d accepted him for who he’d become.
His hands moved down his abdomen. Yep, he was hard as a rock with Charlee’s ass on his mind. He gripped his cock and imagined his girl kneeling in front of him with that sexy smirk of hers, ready to take him into her beautiful mouth. Fuck! He leaned forward, resting his arm on the cold tiled wall while his other hand stroked his length, sliding up and down until he felt the pressure of his release. He threw his head back and sucked in a breath. It didn’t take much effort; his orgasm hit him like a blast.
He stood there for a moment, spent, and gathered his breath. Suddenly, the sweet aroma of yellow cake baking in the oven turned foul. It was burning. What’s going on? Charlee never burns her cakes.
Shutting off the water, RC grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, then stepped out of the shower. He padded across her bedroom and into the hallway. “Charlee girl, everything all right?”
When there was no reply, worry set in and he raced downstairs, holding his towel in place. “Charlee!” He’d hung his bull rope at the end of the stairs last night. Good thing, because something was telling him he was going to need it.
With his rope in hand and ready to snap, RC rounded the corner to the kitchen. Smoke billowed from the oven, and Charlee was nowhere in sight. Throwing the glowing rope on the counter, RC strode over to the oven, opened it, reached in, and then grabbed the cupcake pan. “Fuck!” He threw the hot pan in the sink and then opened the window above so the smoke could escape.
A vibrating noise drew his attention to the kitchen table, where his cellphone lay. God, please let it be Charlee! He raced over to the table and snatched up his phone. “Hello, Charlee?”
“Sweet cheeks!”
“Fuck you, Tibbs. What do you want? I don’t have time for games.”
RC heard Tibbs yell to someone that he had reached him.
“Hey.” Tibbs returned to the phone. “Where are you?”
RC shoved his hands through his wet hair. “I’m here at Charlee’s. I just got out of the shower and came downstairs to find her gone.”
“Listen, We’re following Kit’s lead. He saw two men on surveillance footage abducting Charlee from her home early this morning.”
“Christ!”
“He believes the abductors are the same assholes who attacked the club. They were after Charlee.”
“Are you sure?”
“If Kit believes so. I’d follow that bastard into the bowels of hell.”
“He better be right. I swear if anything happens to her…” RC couldn’t allow himself to think about such tragedy.
“They’re heading down Bio Hazard Road. We’re about twenty minutes behind.”
Shit! “I’m on my way.” RC slammed his cell down on the table and took the stairs two at a time to the bedroom to dress. If those fuckers hurt Charlee, he’d rip them limb-from-limb.
In a flash, he was dressed and out the door. Making sure his Aviators were securely protecting his eyes, he headed to his truck and snapped his rope, warming it up. Rage pumped through his body and begged to be released. Never before had such anger pulsed through him. In a way, it scared him, for he had no control over it. “Charlee girl, I’m coming.”
13
Mace sat cross-legged in the passenger seat of a broken-down RV in the middle of the desert, studying his latest victim’s unconscious body that was duct taped to the driver’s seat. He checked his watch; time was running out. In less than thirty minutes, the sun’s rays would pierce through his UV protective clothing and fry him extra crispy.
He was taking a huge, life-threatening risk being in this barren wasteland with its deadly heat and sunlight. Another failed plan wasn’t an option. He had to micromanage this job. Much was riding on it. Nothing was going to stop him from getting what he wanted.
The skin under his collar began to itch. Shit, he hated to sweat. It was a sign of weakness on so many levels.
Mace kicked the driver’s seat, trying to speed up the wakey-wakey process. To his amusement, the victim moaned and struggled to steady her head. It really was a shame he had to resort to such harsh measures; it was not like he got off on murder. He saw it merely as removing a threat.
There was a time when he’d felt remorse for his sins, when he gave a rat’s ass about others, but that was long ago. Love had scarred him, teaching him two valuable lessons. One; trust no one, especially a female. And two; never leave a loaded .45 on your nightstand, you’ll wake up in the morning with an awful headache.
No, there was no room for remorse. The human had to go. Land development contractors were outbidding each other left and right, salivating at Mace’s plans for the rural area. Resources in the city were thinning and he needed to branch out. It was the perfect place to develop a new community.
The humans believed Mace when he promised to create jobs and build affordable housing communities. And yes, that was exactly what he intended to do, yet his intentions were different.
This project was another area for him to control and vampires to feed off the sin that always came with the package deal. It was a holding area for humans, a guaranteed food source for the vampires. His livelihood depended on this deal. It solidified his authority above ground. Power was his lover now; its hunger—owning Diablo. Eradicating the half-breeds and vampire fuck-ups along the way, was icing on the cake.
His victim came to and thrashed against the tape binding her hands, feet, and mouth. Fear. It was a human emotion, one he despised. And mortals reeked of it. Mace found it amusing to watch terror streak across her face, knowing she was going to die. “Nice for you to join me, Ms. Brysen,” he said.
Charlee moaned.
“What’s that?” Mace cupped his hand next to his ear and leaned in. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
Tears ran down her dirty cheeks.
“Oh, you want to know why you’re in the desert taped to the driver’s seat of an RV? Well, Ms. Brysen, it’s rather simple. I always get what I want.” Mace slipped behind the driver’s seat and freed one of her hands.
He gazed at her over his sunglasses. “I’m really sorry we didn’t reach an agreement.”
He grabbed her hand, fixated on her index finger, then sucked it into his mouth. He punctured the tip with his fangs, tasting her blood. Fuck! His eyes rolled back in his head. “You taste divine.” Then he flipped her hand over and traced the veins in her wrist, traveling up her arm. “You would’ve made a perfect blood slave.”
He reached inside his suit pocket and retrieved the deed to her ranch. Laying the agreement across his lap, he pressed her bloody finger along the signature line. “Vampire law or human law, it doesn’t matter. One way or another, I will have your land.”
He pinched her finger, pooling more blood at the tip, then slowly rolled it across his tongue, reveling in her essences.
His cock hardened as the red sweetness reached the back of his throat, causing him to suck harder. Centuries old and he’d never tasted blood like this before. How much sweeter would it be if he was fucking her senseless right now, savoring
every last drop at the same time? How much time did he have left with her? His smoldering skin told him his time was up.
Regaining his composure, he released Charlee’s hand, then kneeled to activate the device around her ankle. When he straightened, he met her pleading face. The sound of her frantic heartbeat caused him to stroke her cheek. “If you would’ve said yes... now, you have to disappear. Nothing personal; it’s business.”
He exited through the passenger side, then stuck his head back inside. “Old Bessy here is loaded with explosives. Go ahead, look behind you.” Mace pointed to the back where rows of brown square bags were stacked.
Charlee looked behind her then met Mace’s stare, pleading through the duct tape across her mouth.
“I just activated your ankle detonator. If you should escape the restraints, you won’t be going far. I’m sure your knight in cowboy boots will come and try to save you. The device will activate a timer as soon as you leave, giving you seconds before the explosives ignite. You and your half-breed fuck will die.” He tapped his chin. “You know, I’ve always been really good at multitasking.
“Ms. Brysen, like I said before, I always get what I want. With you gone, nothing will stop me.” Mace slammed the door before he could change his mind and make her his slave.
After he climbed into the limo, he collapsed from exhaustion. His skin blistered beneath his clothes.
“Crawley, take me home,” he whispered.
“Yes, sir.”
He closed his eyes as he loosened his tie. Almost dying because of a human ranked right up there with vampire-gone-crazy. At least the job was done and he could move on.
RC caught up with Clay, Tibbs, and Kit in record time, following them down Bio Hazard Road behind the plumes of dust that his truck was kicking up. But he didn’t need to use his sight to get to Charlee. He felt her as if she pulsed through the air.
