Anna Strong Chronicles 02 Blood Drive

by Jeanne C. Stein

  I know I didn’t leave a light or the radio on when I left this morning.

  The exhaustion vanishes. I sling my purse across my chest bandoleer style and lean closer, listening for any other sounds from within. All I hear is the beating of my heart as it pumps adrenaline. I know if I use my key to unlock the door, I’ll alert who ever is inside. I’d rather catch them by surprise than the other way around.

  I gather strength and lunge at the door, hitting it hard. Wood splinters with a deafening crack and the doorknob knocks a chunk out of the plaster wall behind it.

  I leap inside, a snarl escaping my lips.

  And there, standing at the door to the bedroom, is… Max.

  He blinks at me. He’s got a drink in one hand and a towel in the other. He shakes his head as if to clear it and blinks again.

  I blink too. He’s naked. His skin glistens, and his hair is slicked back. He must have just stepped out of the shower.

  We stare at each other for a minute, and then he smiles.

  “Wow, Anna,” he says. “That was quite an entrance.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Naturally, my first reaction is to rail at Max. Ask him what the hell he’s doing here and why he didn’t leave me a message letting me know?

  But he’s naked. And a naked Max is a joy to behold.

  “I thought you were going to dinner with David and what’s her name,” I say, my throat suddenly dry.

  He lets the towel drop and takes a step toward me. “Are you sorry I didn’t?” His voice is husky, too.

  Suddenly that craving I had a while ago for a little physical activity comes screaming back. I don’t say anything at all. I kick the door shut behind me, prop a chair against it to hold it closed, and I’m on him.

  Max responds just the way I hope he will. He doesn’t waste time with words either. He tears at my clothes, pulling off my sweater, fumbling too long with the zipper on my jeans. I lose patience, push his hands away, and peel them off myself.

  His words are breathless in my ear. “You’re so cold.”

  “Then warm me.”

  He does, with his hands and mouth. Vampire physiology is a funny thing. Sexual arousal sends heat to the skin, and in a heartbeat, I’m burning. We’re on the floor, legs intertwined, my breasts crushed against his chest. My senses spin, come alive, with the scent of his freshly showered skin. I can’t wait. I writhe against him, mouth seeking his, hands guiding him inside. He’s ready too. He mounts me and I welcome him in, reveling in the pleasure that I feel in every cell of my head, heart and body. Since becoming vampire, I’ve dreaded having sex with Max. Afraid the exquisite combination of blood and sex I had with Avery would make human sexual experience pale in comparison. Avery told me that it would.

  Max and I find the tempo that binds our bodies together and sends us soaring higher and higher. When Max comes, and I feel his love flow into me like warm honey, the release shatters the night around us into a million glowing stars.

  And I know.

  Avery was a liar.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Max rolls off me and collapses with a groan onto the carpet. I lay quietly beside him, listening to his breathing, listening to the pounding of his blood, listening to the beating of his heart. Suddenly he sits up and his face hovers over mine, an expression of concern twisting his features.

  “My God, Anna. I didn’t use a condom.”

  I actually laugh out loud. “It’s okay, Max. It’s safe.”

  “How can you know that?”

  Because I’m no longer human and bearing children or contracting STD’s is not something a vampire has to worry about. Of course, what I say to Max is, “Because I know. It’s not the right time of the month. Trust me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  There’s disappointment in his voice. He lays a hand on my abdomen. “Making a baby with you wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.”

  An alarm shrieks in my head. I sit up now, too, and point to Max’s glass on the floor beside him. “Fix me one of those, will you? I’m going to take a shower.”

  Before he can respond or ask if he can join me, I’m out of the room. The turn this conversation has taken is too bizarre and fraught with consequences Max can’t begin to comprehend. When did he get soserious ? The only future I have ever envisioned with him is based on what we have now-great sex, strictly recreational. It never occurred to me that he might see it differently.

  When I get out of the shower, I slip into the best buzz kill I can think of-a pair of man-tailored flannel pajamas and a bathrobe, belted tight. No exposed skin.

  Max eyes me when I rejoin him, holding out the drink and raising an eyebrow. “Nice outfit. Very sexy in a L.L. Bean kind of way.”

  I take a sip of the drink, scotch, straight up, and perch myself on the couch, tucking my robe around my legs. Max has slipped on jeans, but he’s shirtless and I avert my eyes because those pecs and biceps have a predictable effect on me. Already, my skin is heating up.

  He sits beside me and casually slips a hand between the folds of my robe. His hand feels warm through the fabric. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says.

  “Scare me?” I act like I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about.

  “The baby thing.” He pauses. “Ever thought about it?”

  I pretend the drink is in the way and move just out of reach. Max snuggles closer on the couch and the hand is back. This time his fingers play with the waistband on my pj’s, wiggle their way inside and inch downward.

  I squirm away. “Max, you can’t be serious. You have a job that keeps you gone for weeks. I have a missing niece. No, I haven’t thought about it.”

  My tone has the desired affect. He pulls away and reaches for his drink. I can tell he’s embarrassed. I clear my throat.

  “So, Max. Let’s talk. How did you and David make out today?”

  He eyes me. I’ve gone for the let’s get past this silliness and on to something else tone. It seems to work because he takes a drink and says, “Piece of cake. It was fun. David’s not such a bad guy after all.” He takes another sip of the scotch and adds, “We discovered we have something in common.”

  I snicker. “You and David? Let’s see, it can’t be that you’re both jocks and adrenaline junkies. That would be too obvious. So it must be that you’re both in love with Gloria.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Close,” he responds. “We both love you.”

  I almost choke on a mouthful of scotch.

  Max laughs. “I don’t mean we both love youthat way. I mean David thinks of you as a sister. He wants to protect you. He’s having a hard time getting over what happened a few months ago. He says he’ll never forgive himself for that.”

  Another topic I’m not about to get into. Neither David nor Max knows the true story of what happened that night and they never will. Just as David will never know that I saved him from certain death at Avery’s hands-or teeth.

  But what does Max mean about loving methat way. What’s going on with him?

  I give myself a mental shake. Later. Right now, there are more important subjects we need to discuss.

  I temper the panic out of my voice. “I need to talk to you about something important.”

  He leans back on the couch cushion and waves a hand in a “go ahead” motion.

  “What do you know about kiddie porn?”

  An eyebrow shoots up. “Kiddie porn?” Then there’s a reflective pause. “Does this have anything to do with that girl that was killed?”

  “I’m not sure. Not yet. I just need to know what can be done about catching somebody involved in selling their own kid to men for money.”

  The revulsion in my voice is intemperate. I couldn’t control it if I wanted to. I keep seeing Trish’s shattered face.

  Max sits up a little straighter. “Do you think that’s what happened to Barbara Franco?”

  I hold up a hand. “No. I don’t believe Barbara was involved in kiddie porn directly, but she may have been
killed because she knew someone who was.”

  Max gets that stern cop look in his eye. “And you’re afraid Trish might be next? You need to go to the authorities with this,” he says. “I’m not kidding, Anna. This is serious business. And it involves the worst kind of scumbag-”

  He’s gearing up for a lecture. One I’m not the least bit interested in hearing. “Listen, Max. I promise you. I will go to the authorities the minute I have something concrete. What I want you to tell me is what kind of evidence you’d need to put these people away.”

  He’s frowning and glaring in that male authoritarian way that makes me want to smack the look right off his face. But that wouldn’t get me the answer now, would it? I smile and purse my lips and nod encouragingly at him.

  His expression softens. “Computers,” he says. “These guys do big business on the web. They can try to delete their files, but there’s an evidence trail that can be recovered from the hard drive. That’s usually what puts them away.”

  The good news and the bad news. I have a mental picture of that laptop flying from Ryan’s hand and bouncing off the wall of the garage to land in a crashing heap on the concrete floor. My bad. On the other hand, Ryan didn’t seem that disturbed by what I’d done. In fact, he said he’d be able to retrieve data from it. Is that possible?

  “What happens if the computer is-say-dropped?” I ask.

  Once again, Max is staring at me with cop eyes. “What computer are we talking about, Anna?”

  “I’m just talking theoretically here. If a computer is broken, can you retrieve data from it?”

  He nods slowly but with reservation, as if he’s afraid answering my question could be construed as encouraging behavior he doesn’t condone. “It’s possible. Depends on how badly it’s damaged and how good the guy is working on it.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Want to tell me why we’re having this conversation?”

  But he’s given me what I need. Now it’s time to change the subject. “We don’t have to be making a baby to have fun with the process, do we?” I place my drink on the coffee table and slip the robe off my shoulders.

  Evidently not. Max uncrosses his arms and watches. By the time I’ve lost the pajamas, the only hard drive he seems interested in is the one between his legs.

  This time we go slowly. Long, lingering kisses. Fingers that coax and tease. When the tension gets too much, when we’re both more than ready, Max slides his hands under my bottom and I arch up to meet him.

  I let Max do the work, move to his rhythm. I listen to his heart, see the pulse drumming at the base of his jaw. I lick at it, taste the salt of his sweat as it pools there. My mouth forms around the spot, sucking gently. Max groans and moves closer.

  Suddenly Avery is there again. This time, his words send a shiver through me.Think of how good you can make it, Anna. It will be the most wonderful sex Max has ever had.

  I touch the pulse point with burning fingers. Max’s blood rushes right there, beneath that fragile sheath of skin-a sheath I can easily pierce. My hands pull his head closer. He doesn’t resist. He’s hurtling past the point of return.

  But I can’t do it. I can’t bring myself to drink from Max. If I do, I risk whatever tremulous hold I have left on what’s human inside me. And in the instant I realize that, I’ve lost him. I’m like a surfer who waits a second too long to make the cut. Max is swept away from me on the wave of his passion, and I’m left behind, alone, to watch.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Max is aware that our last coupling was not as satisfying for me as the first. The expression in his eyes makes it obvious that he’s afraid he has broken something in our relationship.

  I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t tell him that what happened was not his fault. I can’t believe how close I came to-

  I don’t want to think about that now, and I don’t want to tempt fate again. Instead, I smile and tell him I’m tired. Which is true. And that things will be different after a good night’s sleep. Which I can only hope is true.

  He gets up and goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth. I collapse on the bed and wait for him to finish. Can’t share the bathroom anymore-especially one with large mirrors. Not when you’re a vampire. When the phone rings, it’s a little after ten.

  It’s my mother. “Did I wake you?” she asks anxiously.

  “No. I’m just lying here-resting. How was your dinner with Carolyn?”

  “She never showed up.” Mom’s voice is a mixture of aggravation and concern. “We tried calling her, but there was no answer. Why would she stand us up? The dinner was her idea.”

  After what I learned about Carolyn today, nothing she does surprises me. To my mother I respond, “Maybe she got called back to the hospital and didn’t have time to get in touch with you. I’m going to see her tomorrow. I’ll ask her what happened.”

  “I got your note this afternoon,” Mom continues. “So I didn’t expect to hear from her at all, which is why the invitation came as such a surprise.” There’s a pause. “Any word on Trish?”

  This is one of the things I hate most-lying to humans I love. It doesn’t get easier, and I see no way it will ever change. But I can’t share what I’ve learned with anyone yet, especially not my parents. “I expect to have some word soon, Mom. Please try not to worry. How’s Dad taking all this?”

  There’s a sharp intake of breath. “Not well. He acts like he doesn’t believe Trish is really Steve’s. But I can tell he’s scared to death for her.”

  A thought strikes me. “Mom, did Carolyn leave Trish’s hairbrush with you?”

  Again, a pause. In my mind’s eye, I see Mom walking into the living room, looking around. “Yes,” she says at last. “It’s here.”

  “I’ll pick it up tomorrow. I think we should run that DNA test. You have one of Steve’s baby teeth, right? I remember seeing it in a scrapbook or something.”

  The laugh is small and sad. “I have one of yours, too. The first you lost.”

  I let a heartbeat go by before responding. “Will you leave Steve’s tooth with the hairbrush? I think they can get a DNA sample from it.”

  It seems to take Mom a long time to answer. But finally she does, in a soft, firm voice. “I’ll leave everything on the dining room table in case we’re not here when you come. We’re returning to full schedule tomorrow at school and I expect it will be a long day.”

  I promise to call her and check in and then we ring off. Max slips into bed beside me and we snuggle together under the covers. He falls asleep first and I disentangle myself from his arms and lay staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to dull the terrible anxiety I feel for a young girl I’ve known less than a day.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Wednesday

  I awaken once, early, when Max gets up in response to the chirping of his cell phone. I drift back to half-sleep, aware that Max has gone into the bathroom and that he’s showering and dressing. Then he’s leaning over to kiss my forehead.

  “I have to go,” he says. “I got a call. There’s been some trouble with Martinez’s extradition. They want me back in Washington.”

  I struggle into a sitting position. “Is everything all right?”

  But his eyes seem to be focusing on everything in the room but me.

  “Max, is everything all right?”

  His lips draw up and I imagine he thinks he’s smiling. But the smile doesn’t reach his eyes nor does it smooth the wrinkles from his brow. “Of course everything is all right,” he says a little too cheerfully. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I hope you lie better than this when you’re on the job.”

  He smiles-a real smile this time-and his shoulders lose some of their stiffness. He perches himself on the edge of the bed and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “It’s Martinez. They’ve lost him.”

  “Lost him? How do they lose one of the biggest drug dealers in Mexico? I thought he was vacationing with his family in Columbia? Wasn’t somebody watching him?”

&
nbsp; His shrug morphs into a hand dipping into a jacket pocket. His cell phone again. He opens the connection with a flip of his wrist and holds it to his ear. He listens for a minute, snaps the phone shut without saying a word and leans over the bed once more.

  “Sorry, babe,” he says. “I really do have to go. I’ll call you when I get to Washington, okay?” His brows draw together in an expression of concern. “About last night? I didn’t mean-”

  I reach up a hand to touch his cheek. “It’s all right, Max. You be careful, you hear? I’m not through with you yet.”

  He smiles, relief softening the lines from his face. “Glad to hear it.”

  I walk him to the door, noting as I pull the chair away from it that I’ll have to call building maintenance to get it fixed. They’ll want to know what happened, I’m sure, so I’ll have to come up with something.

  I kiss Max and watch until he disappears behind the elevator’s doors. I have a bad feeling. Not about what happened between us last night, though it’s a concern. But if Martinez figured out Max’s role in the bust that dismantled his money laundering operation, he will come after him.

  Not something I can do anything about. Max is a big boy who is certainly capable of taking care of himself. I push the door shut. My priority has to be Trish.

  I debate whether to call Frey or go to the condo. My plan this morning is to track down Carolyn, but the urge to see for myself that Trish is all right is just too strong. And we have that shopping trip to plan. A quick shower, a tug of my hairbrush through wet hair, clean jeans and a cotton sweater, and I’m out the door. Trying to close it reminds me that I have one more stop to make first.

  Burdick, the building maintenance supervisor, has a ground floor apartment. He’s a fussy little man with eyes too close together in a fat, round face. I’ve never liked him. He always looks at me as if he’d like to see me served up on toast. I won’t miss him when I leave.

  But I needn’t have fretted about concocting a story for him. He neither asks nor seems to carehow the door got broken. He just assures me there will be a hefty bill to pay, leering like he’s waiting for me to offer to work the damages off in trade.