by Dakota Rebel
I completely understood why Reagan was so infatuated with him. Hell, I still wanted him. I couldn’t imagine the thoughts he inspired in teenage girls. Watching Reagan watch him made me realize I never wanted to know. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her mouth moving along with the words he sang, her body swaying slightly with the music. If she noticed he was looking at me, she didn’t show it.
When the first song ended, Jarrod walked off stage again. He came back a minute later and resumed singing. He looked down at me, winking. I wasn’t surprised when one of the security detail walked up to me.
“Mr. Axlerod would like you and your guest to accompany me backstage, sir.”
“Tell Mr. Axlerod I appreciate the offer, but we’re fine where we are.”
I told myself there was no way he could have known who I was. He’d never seen me without my mask, and even this close to the stage, I was too far away for him to recognize me. It was just a coincidence that he wanted us to come backstage.
The guard looked shocked at my refusal. I got the feeling no one had ever turned down an invitation backstage before.
“Sir, please.” He reached for my arm but stopped instantly at the look on my face. “It would be in your best interest to come with me.”
“What’s going on?” Reagan asked, noticing us talking. Fuck.
“He wants us to go backstage with him,” I yelled into her ear.
Her eyes lit up, and I knew I was done arguing. The security guard smiled, also knowing by the look on Reagan’s face that the fight was over. I seriously had to stop giving in to her. But apparently, that wasn’t going to happen at that moment.
We followed the man up the stairs where he left us standing right next to the stage, out of the crowd’s sight but much closer to the band than I’d wanted to get that night. I could only hope Jarrod wouldn’t figure out who I was if we met him backstage.
* * * *
The band played for a little over an hour. Reagan had stood silently transfixed through the whole show. At least, I had given her the best birthday present she would ever get. I could only hope we wouldn’t regret it.
After the show, we were taken to the green room with a handful of other fans to wait for the band. A quick glance around the room showed me that the band didn’t seem to have any security people of their own. I wasn’t really surprised. Three vampires and a werewolf could probably handle a throng of screaming teenagers without needing to drop money on personal bodyguards.
“How the hell did you get us back here?” Reagan practically shook with excitement. “I can’t believe I’m going to meet the Axlerods. You are the best fucking brother ever!”
I smiled. I was glad she was so happy, but I wasn’t entirely sure what we were doing back there. Jarrod Axlerod saw millions of guys every night he was on stage. He couldn’t have recognized me, and I wasn’t about to believe he’d invited us back because he was interested in me, especially since I was obviously there with a woman. Reagan and I don’t look enough alike that anyone could pick the resemblance out of a crowd. Most people don’t realize we’re related until they hear us speak. We have the same smartass mouths and sarcastic undertones.
The small crowd in the room became agitated, alerting us that the band had arrived. Everyone had broken into groups, surrounding their favorite members. Reagan stood on tiptoe, searching the room. She smiled, pulling away from me to throw herself through the throng of people to our left. I sighed in relief to see that it was Skip she gravitated toward. He might have been a vampire, but in my eyes, he was the lesser of the two evils.
“You seem tense.”
I spun around to find the greatest of the evils standing there. Jarrod Axlerod was about the same height as me, and I stared directly into his moss-green eyes—green eyes I had stared into not even a week ago at the Torque Masked Ball.
“I was told you’re a federal marshal. Funny, you weren’t acting like one at the club the other night. Is anonymous sex with vampires normal behavior for law enforcement?”
“How could you possibly have picked me out of that crowd?”
He reached out and touched a shiny pink scar on my throat that was visible above the collar of my T-shirt. The wound was from the last vampire hunt I’d been on. None of my marks hurt anymore so I never really thought about them, but apparently, that one was dramatic enough that he could see it from the stage.
“It’s a little hard to forget a body like yours, anyway. But that scar is a dead giveaway. Did you get that in the line of duty?”
“Yeah. Look, I really need to get going. I brought my sister here for her birthday, and I don’t want to leave her alone for too long.” I don’t know why I felt the need to explain myself to him. I didn’t want to seem nervous, didn’t want him suspicious of me, but I couldn’t very well throw myself at him now. There was no good way to make the situation less awkward.
“So what did you think of the concert?” he asked, ignoring my urgency to get out of there.
“It was good. You have an amazing voice.”
“Thanks.” He smiled, stepping toward me again. This time, I didn’t move away. He was so close I felt his breath on my face. If either of us moved our heads an inch forward, we’d be kissing. I was concerned that the thought still excited me, knowing who he was and what he’d done, not to mention what I had to do to him.
His hand brushed mine, that small touch bringing me back to my senses. I turned to look for Reagan and saw her talking to Skip. They laughed, and I was relieved that they stood much farther apart than Jarrod and me.
The room was less crowded than it had been, and I realized no one else had come near Jarrod. It was just the two of us in our little corner of the room. I turned to ask him why that was and found him grinning broadly at me.
“No one is allowed to approach me after a show. All of the fan club members who are back here know that. Are your detective skills always this slow?”
“Not usually,” I admitted with a small laugh.
“I take it this means you’re not disappointed to see me again? Should I be flattered that you find me so distracting?”
He certainly was that. Not only was he gorgeous, but the smell of him was intoxicating. It was like sweat and old leather. He didn’t look old enough to exude that scent. He looked as if he should smell of candy and Saturday morning cartoons. Not that I knew exactly what that would be like, but staring into his pale face with smooth skin, sharp dimples and upturned, little nose, I knew exactly what it looked like.
He might have been a sixty-four-year-old vampire, but he looked as if he might have just turned twenty. If he wasn’t the most famous vamp since Dracula, he’d get carded at any bar in the city. For the first time ever, I wondered what ancient vampires used for ID. How do you prove to the DMV that you pre-date birth certificates?
Watching him watch me, I realized that he could make me wonder a lot of things I never had before. Like what would happen if I kissed him again? Like what the hell was wrong with me?
“Mitch!” Reagan ran over, pushing herself between Jarrod and me and saving me from doing something stupid. She didn’t even seem to notice he stood there. “Skip invited us to go out with them tonight. Can we go?”
“Absolutely not. In fact, it’s time to go. Now.”
“Come on, Mitch! It’s my birthday, and I want to go.”
“Yeah, come on, Mitch.” Jarrod put his arms around Reagan, nuzzling her neck with his chin. “It’s her birthday.”
“It’s Marshal Baine,” I growled. “And get your hands off my sister.”
Jarrod’s eyes widened slightly, but he let her go. Reagan turned to see who had hugged her. A childlike squeal escaped her lips when she saw him. The sound was immediately followed by a bright blush creeping up her neck.
“Holy shit!” She threw her arms around his neck. “You are so freakin’ hot.”
Jarrod caught my eye, smiling widely at me over her head. Whatever he saw on my face let him know that hugging her back would be a re
ally bad idea. His smile faded completely as he unhooked her arms then took a step back, out of her reach.
“Sorry, sweetie, Marshal Baine is right. Maybe some other time. We’ll be home for a while.” His eyes flicked back to me. “It’s a small town. I’m sure we’ll all get a chance to hang out again soon.”
I sincerely hoped not. If my reaction to him got any stronger, I would be in serious trouble. The best thing would be to stay as far from him as possible until I was ready to dust him. “Hanging out” with him would be a terrible idea.
Plus, there was no way in hell I would let Reagan spend time with the unholy Osmonds. She was out of her freakin’ mind if she thought I would let that happen.
“Let’s go, Reagan.”
She stomped off to say goodbye to Skip. I followed, not wanting to be alone with Jarrod again.
“‘Bye Mitch,” he called after me. I glanced over my shoulder at him, instantly regretting the action when I saw his adorable pout. It was a bigger struggle than I’d like to admit to keep walking away. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to run back to him, take his face in my hands and suck his thick, lower lip into my mouth.
Fuck.
I was glad that Skip didn’t try to argue, too. He just shrugged, kissed Reagan’s cheek and stalked off.
Reagan didn’t talk to me the entire ride home, and I didn’t push her. The silence was actually welcome after the volume of the concert.
When we got back to my apartment, she walked directly into the bathroom. I heard the shower start and fished her car keys out of her bag. I was exhausted and didn’t want her sneaking off to meet up with Heartstrings while I slept.
I went into my room, locking the door before I climbed into bed. I stared at the ceiling, trying to think about anything but Jarrod Axlerod. The shower turned off, and a few minutes later, Reagan’s voice yelled from the living room.
“Mitch, you’re such an asshole!”
So much for being the “best fucking brother ever”.
Chapter Four
Reagan woke me by banging on my bedroom door at noon the next day. She stood in the hall with her hand outstretched. I tossed her keys to her, and she stalked off without a word to me.
She’d get over it. She always did. I thought about chasing her and making her talk to me, but it hadn’t been so terribly long since I’d been a teenager. I wouldn’t have talked to me either after being treated as so untrustworthy. I figured I would hunt her down if I didn’t hear from her by the next day. I just wanted to give her the opportunity to come to me first.
I climbed back into bed. I knew I really should get up and go to the gym, but I just didn’t feel like it. I had blacked out the windows in my room when I’d first moved into the loft. More often than not it kept me in bed longer than I should have stayed there. But I was never sorry about it.
I closed my eyes, with every intention of going back to sleep, but my mind had other ideas. Jarrod Axlerod’s face stared at me from the inside of my eyelids. If it would have been images from the pictures in my office, I might have gotten back out of bed and gone to work. But of course, it wasn’t.
No, he stood in front of me again, his eyes locked on mine, his lower lip sticking out slightly—the way I had left him the night before. In my mind, I hadn’t walked away, and we were completely alone in the room. As I had wanted to do at the time, I took his face in my hands, ran my thumb along his razor sharp jaw and lowered my face to his.
He kissed me back, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me tighter against him. He ground himself against me, making my cock harden in my boxers. I absently slid my hand under the elastic band of my shorts and started rubbing my erection while I continued the fantasy in my head.
Jarrod’s hands gripped my T-shirt, pulling it up. I moved away from him, my arms up so he could remove it. He dropped to his knees, trailing kisses over my chest. He used his mouth to unbutton my jeans, his hands tugging them off my legs, leaving me naked and hard in front of him.
I started pumping my hand faster up and down my shaft as his eyes flicked up to mine. He ran his tongue the length of my cock, his breath warm against the smooth flesh. I shuddered for him, earning a smile before he took my tip into his wet mouth. His hand wrapped around the base of my cock, mimicking my own movements as he gently sucked.
I cried out as I came in hot, thick spurts up my chest, my fantasy broken by the unexpected orgasm. I lay on the bed panting for a few minutes, trying not to believe I had just come thinking about a serial killer sucking me off, for a second time.
I grabbed my T-shirt off the floor and wiped myself clean, wondering again what the hell was wrong with me. I climbed into the shower, knowing this had to stop. I couldn’t keep thinking of him sexually. Yeah, he was adorable—okay, he was fucking gorgeous—but I couldn’t drive a stake through his heart while thinking about him sucking my cock.
I knew I needed to focus on the case, but after getting dressed, I realized I needed to do laundry. And the floors could stand to be swept. And mopped. Plus, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d dusted anything in the loft.
By seven o’clock that night, I had run out of things to clean. The apartment was as spotless as the day I’d moved in. Well, every room but the office. The most attention that room got from me during my cleaning tizzy was an occasional furtive glance toward the door. I couldn’t avoid it anymore. I had to get to work. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and went into the inner sanctum.
* * * *
I still sat at my desk six hours and three beers later, flipping through Jarrod’s file, wanting to tear out my hair at the inconsistencies in the case. I had forced myself through them a hundred times, thinking that my own prejudice toward the situation was making me miss something. But there didn’t seem to be any proof in the papers at all.
My phone rang loudly in the silent room, making me jump. I glanced at the display, groaning aloud when I read the name flashing there.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” I thought I already knew, but I asked anyway.
“Is Reagan still awake?”
Shit. Reagan knew better than to use me as cover without telling me first. That meant she had gone somewhere I wouldn’t have approved of.
“Sorry, Mom, she fell asleep about an hour ago. Do you want me to wake her up for you?” I asked, knowing she wouldn’t.
“No, that’s okay, sweetie. Can you make sure she’s home early tomorrow? I want her to go to church with me in the morning.”
“Sure thing, Mom. Goodnight.” I hung up before the invitation could be extended to me. I hadn’t been a big church fan since the priest who had baptized me spent an hour telling me how I was going to burn in hell after he’d caught me going down on Billy Szuman in the janitor’s closet my senior year of high school. Yeah, I’d skipped the sermons from then on.
I silently cursed Reagan as I dialed her cell. She picked up on the fourth ring.
“Fuck. Did Mom call you?”
“Where are you?”
I heard loud music in the background, along with people shouting and laughing.
“Look, Mitch, I’m fine. Tell Mom I’ll be home for church in the morning. With any luck, I’ll need to go to confession anyway.”
“Reagan,” I said calmly. “Where the fuck are you?” I wasn’t yelling, not yet, but when I found her, strangling her wasn’t completely out of the question.
“I’m at Torque—”
“Stay there.” I cut her off.
“Don’t come down here. I mean it, Mitch. I’m having fun, and you’re just going to fuck it up if you show up. I’m fine. Honest. Stay away from me.”
“What the hell are you doing there?” I put on my shoes, grabbed my coat and walked out the door while I tried to keep her talking. I hoped she wouldn’t have time to leave if I got her to stay on the phone with me.
“Well, Donna called and said Robbie told her that Billy’s brother Tony was hanging out at Torque tonight and saw Jarrod and Skip Axlerod there. So we decided to c
ome to hang out with them…since I know them and all.”
I climbed into my car, cranking the engine and flying out of the parking lot. This was getting worse by the second.
“How the hell did you get in? You’re a seventeen-year-old girl, for fuck’s sake.”
“Obviously, you haven’t noticed, but it’s after midnight. I’m eighteen now. Besides, I have a fake ID. And Skip had my name on the list in case I showed up.” This last was said as if it were common knowledge.
“Where did you get ID?” I sped through downtown, swerving around cars and people like a madman. I chose to focus on the questions I actually wanted the answers to.
“The same place you get yours, dumbass.”
“Lovely. Does Mom know that Dad’s still contributing to the delinquency of his minor?”
“I’m not a minor anymore brother dear.” She laughed, but it was too high, too…off somehow.
“Reagan, are you drunk?”
“What do you think?”
Perfect.
I pulled up in front of Torque and backed the car into the first spot I found on the street, managing to scramble out without dropping the phone.
“Reagan, listen very carefully. Stay away from Jarrod Axlerod. Do you hear me?”
“Jarrod? He’s right here. Do you want to talk to him? Jarrod! Mitch wants to talk to you.”
Fuck. I turned off the phone as I skirted the line outside the door to the club. I waved to Chuck as he lifted the rope for me, ignoring the yells of the people stuck outside.
The music inside was beyond loud. As was usual for a Saturday night, the place was packed. Wall-to-wall bodies pressed against me as I fought my way toward the back of the bar. I knew the layout well enough to guess where Reagan would be. If she was really with the band then she was most likely in the VIP section.
