Dante’s Salvation

by Anna Leigh Keaton

  “You know the bouncer?”

  She shook her head. “No, but he’s Digger’s lover.”

  “Who the hell is Digger?”

  Wendy looked up. Candice had croissant crumbs on her chin. “Digger is Dante’s roommate. I met him the other night. He’s this short Irishman.”

  “Oh, yeah. He was at the club, too.”

  “This morning, Jesse—the bouncer—was at their house.” She wrinkled her forehead. “It’s obvious that he and Digger are a couple. But...but after I got to the club, and Jesse let me in—I didn’t know his name was Jesse at the time—I went in the door, and down that long hallway...and...and then I woke up in bed with Dante this morning after the sun was up.”

  Candice raised her eyebrows. “He fucked you and you don’t remember it? Eww. You should press charges for that.”

  Wendy shook her head. “No. I was still dressed. Only my shoes were off—and they’re still on his floor.” She made a face and laid her hand against her forehead. “How the hell can I not remember anything? I don’t even remember having anything to drink, but Dante told Jesse when we were introduced this morning that I’d had too much. So, I’m assuming I got drunk at his house.”

  “I was surprised you didn’t make it home last night because, girl, you were furious with both of us. I was sure you were going to tell him where to stick it.”

  She didn’t remember being mad. All she remembered, all she felt, was this sense of...peaceful fulfillment. She did have one memory of the night before. Of standing by the door in his house as he cupped her cheeks in his big, gentle hands, as he told her he loved her. “‘Forget all the rest,’ he said to me. ‘Remember only that I love you.’”

  “The rest of what?” Candice asked as she reached into the paper sack for more food. “That’s a little creepy, isn’t it, since you did forget everything?”

  Wendy sipped her coffee and pulled her knees to her chest. Creepy? She wasn’t sure if she’d go that far, but she needed to talk to him. He was the only one who could tell her exactly what happened last night.

  “You gonna eat this?” Candice asked, pulling the last croissant from the bag.

  “No. Go ahead.” She didn’t feel hungry, and she didn’t know if she could wait those few days for Dante to call her. “Did he say what he was doing at the club?”

  Candice shrugged. “He said he was there on business—or I guess that little Irish dude said that—but as far as I could tell, he was there picking up women. He picked me up at the bar.”

  Pain pierced through Wendy. “What do you mean?”

  Her friend laid the pastry on the coffee table. “Honey, don’t be upset, but I’d just stepped up to the bar to get a drink and accidentally bumped into this guy standing there when I got shoved by some dancers. He turned around, smiled at me, bought my drink, then hauled me out on the dance floor. That’s when you walked in.”

  “He was supposed to be out of town on business. That’s what he said when he canceled our date. That’s why I decided to go to The Starlight with you instead of sitting at home feeling sorry for myself.”

  Candice laid her hand over Wendy’s. “I swear I didn’t know who he was. And if it means anything, he looked truly upset that you were pissed off at him.”

  “I just don’t get it,” Wendy muttered. Why would he lie about work and then take her home and tell her he loved her? What about what happened between them this morning? It was earth shattering. Mind blowing. She’d never be the same again after that.

  He said he had something to tell her before he’d make love to her again.

  She groaned and buried her face in her hand. “Oh, shit.”

  “What? What?” Candice pulled Wendy’s hand from her face. “What are you thinking?”

  “I knew he was too good to be true.” Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. “I think he’s a criminal. He owns an antique store, and he’s conducting business in a nightclub. I asked him this morning, and he denied it, but... Oh, God, he said he’d never been to prison, but he didn’t deny being a bad guy. He told me we couldn’t make love again until he told me his secrets. What if he’s in the mob or something?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Dante paced the width of the living room and then back again. He swiped one hand through his hair and shoved the other in his jeans pocket. The waiting had become unbearable about fifteen hours earlier; now he was going crazy with it.

  “Sit yer arse down, Dant. You’re makin’ me nervous.”

  Dante spun to look at Digger who reclined in the easy chair, legs crossed, reading a copy of Time. “How can you be so fucking relaxed? Why hasn’t he made his move? Come after us? Something.”

  “A watched pot doesna boil.”

  Dante made a face and plopped down on the sofa. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means, mate, that pacin’ and grousin’ ain’t gonna bring the bad guy any faster. All it’s gonna do is wear ya out ’til yer too uptight to fight when he gets here.” He reached to the end table, picked up the TV remote, and tossed it to Dante. “Watch the tube. Read a book. Do somethin’, cuz yer makin’ me want to pummel ya.”

  Dante flopped back into the leather cushions and heaved an annoyed sigh. Tossing the remote on the coffee table, he folded his arms and stared out the window. The sun had set an hour ago. Forty-five hours had passed since their meeting with Gaston. It was almost time for another hourly check in, and still they had nothing to report. Nothing at all.

  The phone rang, jarring him, and he fumbled for the cordless on the end table. “Rainaldi,” he said into the phone.

  “Dante, it’s Evan. We’ve got a lead. Two actually. I need you to meet me and a few of Gaston’s guards at the Billings Paper warehouse. Gaston wants Digger to head down to The Starlight and meet with a vampire named James Clovers. He’s got some information about the Southern sect trying to move in.”

  “James Clovers. I’ll let him know. When do you need me at Billings?” Billings was a company owned by Gaston. Nearly all his employees were vampires, and Dante assumed someone had some information.

  “An hour, if you can make it.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I drop Digger off at the club.”

  Evan disconnected the call, and Dante surged to his feet. Digger watched him with bright eyes. His friend was as ready to fight as he was, even if he pretended calm. Dante reiterated everything Evan had said as he went to the coat closet and began arming himself. God, he hoped this was the one. This was it. They could put it all to rest tonight.

  Digger, who’d already been wearing the shoulder holster with the specialized pistol, strapped on a long sword and reached for his leather trench coat. Dante checked his own revolver, made sure the safety was on, then grabbed the scabbard holding the sword specially made for him three hundred years earlier.

  “Ready, mate?” Digger asked.

  Dante nodded as he slid his arms into his own trench coat. His grin was feral, and he let his fangs show. “Never been more so.”

  “Let’s go.”

  In the garage, Dante opened the driver’s door to Digger’s Corvette and climbed in, nearly strangling himself on the steering wheel. He popped the release and scooted the seat all the way back. “Damn short men,” he muttered as Digger slid in beside him.

  Digger chuckled and patted the dashboard. “Ya better not hurt me baby, or a slayer’s the last thing ta fear.”

  He hit the button to raise the garage door and tore out with a squeal of tires.

  —

  As Wendy washed her face, preparing for bed, her door buzzer rang. She made a face at herself in the mirror before grabbing the hand towel from the rack and blotting her cheeks. The buzzer went again, and she rolled her eyes as she headed for the speaker by the front door. Candice needed to start keeping normal hours. How the woman got up and went to work every day was beyond her.

  “Hey, Candi, don’t you know it’s after ten?”

  A man cleared his throat. “This is Evan Fr
edrick, Dante’s friend.”

  She frowned. “Oh, sorry. What can I do for you?”

  “Something’s happened to Dante, and he’s asked me to pick you up and bring you to the hospital.”

  “Ohmygod. Is he okay? What happened?”

  “He’s all right now, but he’d like to see you.”

  “Right. Okay. I have to get dressed. Umm. Come on up.” She pressed the button to unlock the door downstairs, cracked her door open, and then dashed into her bedroom for clothes. In record time, she stripped off her nightshirt, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, and slipped her feet into a pair of loafers. Evan was just coming in the front door when she hurried into the living room.

  “What happened? How bad is it?” She grabbed her purse and turned to Evan, who still stood in the doorway.

  “Calm down,” he said in a gentle voice. “Really, he’s fine. He just had a little accident with a sharp object.” He grinned.

  “What kind of sharp object?” She ushered him out the door then turned to lock it. “Which hospital is he at? Is Digger with him?”

  Evan was right behind her as she rushed down the stairs. When they reached the sidewalk, he placed his hand on her lower back and steered her toward the same black Lexus he’d driven her home in the day before. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said.

  He held the door for her, and she slid in and buckled up. When he got into the driver’s seat, he smiled at her again, but something wasn’t right. His eyes looked... His mouth... A warning screamed loud in her head, and she reached for the seatbelt to unlatch it.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, his pleasant voice changed to something cold, hard, and very, very scary.

  Fear and dread slithered down her spine. “Where’s Dante?”

  “He’ll be along shortly.” He clicked the electric door locks. The sound was as loud as a gunshot in the silent car. Then he grinned, and she realized what was wrong. His eye teeth were pointed. Really pointed. And much too long.

  Leaning back against the door to put as much space between them as possible, she shook her head. “What—what’s going on?”

  “Nothing much,” he said as he turned the key and the car rumbled to life. “I just figured you’d be a tasty little morsel once I’m done decapitating your lover.”

  A squeak came out of her, and she clamped her hand over her mouth. His laughter sent a chill over her skin, and she tried to ease her hand toward the seatbelt latch. So fast she didn’t even see the motion, his hand gripped her wrist, and he squeezed.

  She cried out at the pain radiating up her arm. “No. Please.” Panic set in, and she struggled to pull away from his grasp, but he only held her tighter. She screamed and reached for the door release, but it was locked. She couldn’t find the lock switch in the dark.

  “Don’t fight, Wendy,” he said in a too-calm, too-calculating voice. “It’ll only hurt you more, and I do hate my dinner bruised.”

  She nearly gagged at the images his words produced. He was going to rape her. “Oh, God, no,” she cried as she tried clawing his fingers away from her arm.

  His hold on her was unbreakable, and no matter how much she scratched him, he didn’t budge, didn’t even seem to notice what she was doing. He guided the car down the streets with one hand and seemed not to have a care in the world.

  When she saw they were headed for the viaduct, she turned her attention to the cars driving alongside them. She pounded against the window and screamed, “Help me. Help me!”

  Another of those hair-raising, goose bump-producing laughs came out of him. “The windows are tinted, my silly little girl. And this car is known for how soundproof it is.”

  She screamed louder, trying to drown him out. “Please!” She banged on the window, trying to catch someone’s eye in the other vehicles on the road, but they never looked her way.

  “The more you scream, the harder I get. You’re going to be so sweet when I fuck you and drain your blood.”

  His words froze her mid swing at the window. Drain my blood? What kind of whacked out sicko was he? Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. He was going to torture her, too. Some sadistic satanic ritual.

  Tears blurred her vision, and she started struggling against his one-handed hold again.

  They zoomed along the viaduct and headed toward West Seattle. She sobbed as she struggled against his hold, but he was so strong, and her arm hurt so badly.

  “Please, tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything. I have money. I...I...”

  “All I want is Dante’s head and your pussy, darling. Nothing too much.” He breathed in deep, and his eyelids drooped a bit. “The smell of your fear is so sweet it’s making my mouth water and my dick hard.”

  Out of preservation, Wendy stopped struggling and clamped her mouth shut, stopping her screams. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she shook in violent spasms of terror—something she had no control over. This handsome man who she’d thought was a really nice guy to drive her home the day before was a psychopath. And now he had her, and he was going to rape her, kill her, and kill Dante.

  A sob lodged in her throat, and she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep it there. Begging with him obviously wouldn’t work. He was so strong, fighting him would be a moronic gesture. Her purse had fallen to the floorboard during her struggle. She had her cell in there, but with him holding her arm, there was no way to go after it without him knowing.

  “You won’t escape,” he stated in a mater-of-fact tone as he took an exit from the highway into the industrial area. “I’m stronger, faster, and smarter than you. Obviously, I’m smarter than your idiot boyfriend.” He shook his head and cast a glance in her direction. “Falling in love with a human. How stupid can he be?”

  This guy didn’t think he was human? Didn’t think Dante was human? Oh, Lord, she had to figure out how to get away from him. He was crazier than she’d thought.

  “And Digger.” He laughed that evil chuckle. “You do know he’s a fag, right? I’m sure he’s doing your boyfriend when you’re not around.”

  No, he wasn’t, Wendy thought. Digger was in love with or at the very least very attached to Jesse.

  “As soon as I’m done with you and Dante, it’ll be Digger’s turn.” He flashed the horrifying grin again, his sharp teeth and menacing eyes glittering in the light from the dashboard. “He’ll be my biggest challenge yet, but I’m up for it. I’ve been planning this for years, and it’s all falling into place just like I wanted it to. With the exception of you.” He winked. “You’re a tasty little bonus. I can’t wait to see Dante’s face when he sees you at my mercy. And your blood will give me just the boost I need to take on Digger. By morning, Seattle will be mine.”

  Wendy stifled the whimper clawing to be free. He was insane. He thought killing Dante and Digger would make Seattle his?

  Evan braked hard in front of a warehouse in the industrial area. God, she thought, it was like a bad movie. Only it was a paper company, not a meat packing plant. Just the same, he was going to kill her and probably throw her body in the bay because there was a dock just yards away. She’d be found in three weeks, half eaten, bloated and blue. Who knew how long it would take authorities to identify her. Candice and her sister were the only ones to miss her. What would they think when she turned up missing?

  He let go of her to turn off the ignition. He was so fast, though, he grabbed her the second she released her seatbelt.

  “Ah, ah, ah. You’re going to be a good little girl and listen to Uncle Evan.”

  She shivered in disgust as her stomach curled into a tight ball of fear.

  He threw open his door and dragged her across the driver’s seat. She stumbled out onto the pavement, going down hard on her knees, but he lifted her by her arm as if she weighed nothing.

  She screamed and went back to fighting. This time she kicked at his shins and leaned down to bite the hand holding her wrist.

  Without seeming to notice, he turned toward the building and dragged her alo
ng by her arm held in his vice-like grip. Her wrist was bruised, her bones possibly broken because she could barely move her fingers.

  “Let me go! Please!” She bit the back of his hand, trying to tear away his flesh. Something to produce enough pain so he’d release her and give her a chance to run.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Naughty girls get punished.” Without warning, he slapped her across the face so hard she saw stars. She would have fallen, but he kept dragging her. Stumbling along behind him, she had no choice but to follow. A warm trickle ran from the corner of her mouth, and she swiped it with the back of her hand. Blood.

  Evan stopped in front of the man door next to the giant garage bay doors of the warehouse. As he slipped a key into the lock, he stopped moving, sniffed the air, then turned toward her. His eyes seemed to glow with an evil, terrifying light reflecting from the halogen lamp over the door.

  When he leaned in, she tried pulling back, but he jerked her arm, and she fell against him. His hot, wet tongue swiped out and licked her chin where the blood still dribbled.

  “No,” she whimpered, and she thought she might throw up.

  “Too bad you reek of Dante. If it weren’t for that, you’d be the sweetest I’ve ever had.”

  She gagged as the panic and fear turned to outright horror. The grip on her arm was so hard her fingers went numb. She had to escape. She had to. No way could she let this sick asshole do to her... She gagged again.

  He sniffed again, this time burying his nose against her neck. “Ah, yes.” His tongue touched her pulse point, those sharp teeth scraping her skin, and she screamed in terror and jerked back, hitting her head against the wall of the building. Again she saw stars.

  Evan turned back to the door, pushed it open, then dragged her inside. Only a few security lights burned way up in the rafters. Giant mountains of stuff stood stacked on pallet boards. He pulled her along, weaving her through the piles, until he came to an open area in the center of the warehouse. It looked as if the pallets had been pushed back to form a kind of room. With only one way in.