Blood Rogue, #1

by Linda J. Parisi

  A hole in the building?

  Stacy closed her eyes. She needed to screw her head back on too. None of this made any sense at all. She dug her fingers into the wood of the doorjamb and forced herself upright. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked out into the parking lot.

  Reaching down, she went to pull out her gun. And that was when she realized she no longer had it in her possession, but one of the men she faced did.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Both men started. The one with her pistol reminded her of a young Sean Connery but with light brown hair and less intense eyes. The one without her pistol reminded her of Collin Farrell but with a rounder face and thinner eyebrows. Both were gorgeous, but there was also something deadly about them. Without her weapon, Stacy was simply going to have to brazen this one out if she could.

  “That’s…impossible,” the dark one muttered.

  “Twice in one night. Maybe not so impossible as you’d think.”

  Was he talking to his compatriot or her? “Twice in one night…what?”

  The dark-haired one shook his head. “You’re right. I’ve never seen an evening go so wrong in all my life. Tell you what, I’ll deal with the guard. You deal with her, okay? I’ll notify Ozzie and the rest of the Paladin about Mick. Do you think we should tell Sam what went down?”

  Paladin? What was a Paladin? And who was Sam?

  The lighter-haired one considered the question a moment. “No. Not yet. Besides, this is Hunter’s territory. He should be notified first. If we need to. You take care of the security guard. And I’ll…I’ll…I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet,” he said, turning and glaring her way. “But I’ll figure it out.”

  The darker-haired one nodded. “Good luck with that. And don’t bother trying to find me later on tonight. Depending on how I feel, maybe I’ll find you.”

  “I understand.” They clasped hands and clapped backs, then the dark-haired one simply walked off down towards the complex.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  He held out his arm to guide her back into the bar. “I’ll explain inside.”

  “No, you’ll explain now. And you’ll give me back my gun.” He certainly looked skeptical about doing that. Then she turned her head. There was a fist-sized hole gouged out of the brick. Who the hell could do that with a bare hand?

  “Or what?”

  “Excuse me?” She shook her head again, and the world tilted. She lost her balance, and he grabbed her elbow to steady her. But being near him allowed an idea. She reached out and grabbed her gun, backing away as fast as she could. The asphalt rolled like she was in a wave machine. He took the pistol back, but this time held it with two fingers, barrel facing down.

  “I promise I won’t hurt you. Please let me get you inside so you can sit down. I don’t want you to fall and crack your head.”

  Her mind felt as convoluted as the moving floor. “Where’s Pat? And Mike?”

  “I took them home, so they’d be more comfortable when they woke up.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. When that didn’t work, she tried closing her eyes. She couldn’t focus. Okay, this had to be a dream. And a bad one at that.

  He grabbed her elbow again, this time not letting go. She tried to break away, then she tried to snatch her gun again. “Will you please stop?” he exploded. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He drew in a deep breath and expelled the air in a heartfelt hiss. “Technically, I saved your life just now.”

  “Saved my life?” The earth beneath her feet rolled, and his fingers tightened. “What are you talking about?”

  Stacy moaned, more from confusion than misery, but he seemed to mistake her intent, for he picked her up in one fluid movement and carried her back into O’Reilly’s. As he walked, Stacy caught a whiff of a familiar cologne and wondered how that was possible. The only men’s cologne she’d had the pleasure of not enjoying was her co-worker Dan’s, and he reeked of it. But better that than the alternative.

  “Put me down, please.”

  He complied, placing her down in the same booth where she’d awakened.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here? Why’d you have to take Pat and Mike home? Why is there a hole in the bricks of the building about the size of my fist? Who’s Pitch? Who’s Mick? And for the love of Pete, what happened here?”

  He pulled out a chair from the table next to him, swung it around, sat down backward, and folded his arms on the back. “How do you want your reality? Small bites or large doses?”

  “Is this some kind of joke or prank or something? Did Pat and Mike put you up to this?”

  His features turned grave, and his shoulders slumped. “Trust me, no joke. No prank.”

  Her hand fluttered to her brow, and concern filled his soft brown gaze.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I could swear I’ve been drugged, but I have no idea how that would be possible.”

  He rose and walked behind the bar, returning with a glass of cold water. “Thank you.” Stacy gulped half the glass before she stopped. Her stomach rolled a couple of times then stilled.

  “My name is Charles Tower. You were attacked. Pat and Mike came out to help. They got a little beat up trying to defend you. Neither one wanted to go to the hospital, so I told them I’d keep an eye on you and on the bar until you woke up. You hit the pavement pretty hard, but I don’t think you have a concussion. They said you would be able to lock up?”

  “Yeah, I can. Did you say something about a security guard being dead? Or was I just dreaming that? Because if that was the case, and I got attacked and someone got killed, this place should be swarming with cops.”

  “It is, in a manner of speaking. Or it will be soon.”

  What? “Sorry. I don’t understand. Who are you? FBI or something?”

  “Or something,” he muttered. “You’re very lucky you’re not dead. But I’m afraid I’m not.”

  “How’s that?”

  He held up a glove. Her glove. “Hey, where’d you get that?”

  “You dropped them in the scuffle.”

  “Where’s the other one?”

  “In the possession of the man who tried to kill you.”

  “Kill me?” Stacy rubbed her face with her hands, trying to get the world to solidify. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would someone want to kill me?”

  No matter how gorgeous or incredible the man across from her looked, he could get real serious in a hurry. His body snapped to attention, back ramrod straight, brows drawing together to become a straight line. “Because I involved you in something I shouldn’t have involved you in. Not your fault or mine, just bad luck.”

  Bad luck? That was one way of putting things when your life was supposedly on the line. Which she wasn’t sure she believed. Still, he didn’t seem like he was trying to hide anything from her.

  “Involved in something,” she repeated. “Would you mind telling me what?” Stacy looked down at her watch, then back up at him. “Because as sure as I am that the sun is going to rise in a few hours, I know Pat would never leave this bar unattended unless he was on his deathbed, or if Mike was here. So you’d better start talking and fast.”

  He opened his mouth then snapped it shut. He cocked his head, seeming to judge her. “Okay. You want the truth? Here it is. You were attacked by a rogue because I drank from you. This rogue is the only real father I’ve ever known. He picked up one of your gloves in the parking lot, and he’s marked you as his last. He has your scent, and won’t stop until he gets you.”

  Was she missing something here? Because not one word he said made sense. “Rogue? Drank? What the hell are you talking about?”

  He drew in a breath that seemed almost painful. “Before I answer, I’m going to do something I shouldn’t.” He lifted her gun out of the waistband of his pants and placed it on the table. Stacy noted the safety was on, but that problem could be easily remedied. “You should know that a bullet, even two
or three, will hurt me but not kill me. And should you decide upon that route, I won’t appreciate being hurt. Not at all.”

  Oh, man. This guy really believes what he’s saying. Maybe I should play along.

  “There’s no need to play along. And yes, I’m completely sincere.”

  “What the hell? How did you know what I was thinking?”

  He didn’t skip a beat, just kept talking like they were having an every-day conversation. “I can hear your thoughts within short distances. Most of the time, I don’t want to. Too many human thoughts are like a discordant symphony, they grate on my nerves.”

  “Right.” Hear thoughts? The next thing that’s going to happen is that Robert Pattinson is going to walk into the bar, followed by none other than Kristen Stewart.

  “You’re not that far off,” he muttered.

  “Excuse me?”

  He seemed to be fighting with himself, shifting in his chair like he wanted to get up then sit down. His fingers alternately clenched the wood of the back of the chair then let go, and each time that happened, his knuckles turned white from the strain. Or were they always that pale?

  “A rogue is an out of control vampire.”

  Stacy couldn’t help herself. Boiled up laughter spilled out. She picked up the gun and flipped the safety. “An out of control vampire,” she repeated. “Really?” She caught what looked like hurt in his gaze before his face shuttered completely.

  “Not a joke.”

  “Sorry.” Stacy pushed her hair off her face with her free hand. “Not every day you get told a vampire wants to kill you. So I need to know. Who set this up?”

  He frowned. “Fine. Don’t take me seriously. But you need to understand that this rogue has marked you. He has your scent, and he won’t stop chasing you until he drains you dry.”

  “Wow.” She sat back and grinned. “You really are awesome. I mean, you should be on Broadway. The big screen. Damn.”

  “I’m not acting.” He jumped up from the chair, raking his hand through his hair. “And I’m not joking.”

  “C’mon,” she said. “I gotta know. Who put you up to this? Who paid you? Kelly?”

  “You mean the brunette with the attitude?” Chaz asked.

  “I knew it! I knew it! Wait until I get my hands on her.” Stacy lowered the gun and flipped the safety back on.

  When she looked up, Stacy found his shoulders slumped, and his body deflated like a dying balloon.

  “How the hell am I going to make you understand? I’m not kidding.”

  Her phone rang. He pulled her cell out of his jacket and handed it to her. Her brain clicked back into gear, and she began to assess. Too nicely dressed to be in a bar like O’Reilly’s, and Boss cologne had no place in a world of brine.

  Her finger hit the button. Tori.

  “Stace?” Tori said. “Hi!”

  “Hi, yourself.”

  “I thought you were going to text me.”

  “Sorry,” Stacy said. “I lost track of time.”

  “So how’s the date going?”

  “Date?”

  “Yeah. With that guy. Said his name was….Charles. That’s it. Charles Tower.”

  Stacy started to grin. Ahh, so it wasn’t Kelly, it was Tori. Or maybe both of them. “He’s right here with me. We’re at O’Reilly’s”

  “You know,” Tori continued. “I was kind of concerned, what with him flashing around hundred-dollar bills and all and getting you to leave us in like five seconds flat.”

  Because you paid him to? “But it seems like you used your head if you’re at O’Reilly’s.”

  Then again, if Tori and Kelly had done that, Tori would’ve given up the joke by now. She couldn’t pull a prank to save her life.

  “Give Pat and Mike a hug for me,” Tori said.

  First thought crashed. Second thought crashed.

  “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  It was coming back. Jersey City. Adrian’s. Kelly drooling.

  “Be careful,” Tori continued. “And use precautions. Doctor’s orders.”

  Stacy lifted her gaze. His head tilted, caution filling his gaze. “Of course.”

  “You can tell me all about it tomorrow. Smooches.”

  The phone beeped. Tori hung up. Stacy stared down at the screen, a hollow forming in the pit of her belly. She fought with herself. Adrian’s. A man. Way out of her league. Talking about drool. An invitation to the Chart House. Walking to her car.

  She looked up. Impossible. But was it? Who the hell knew? So she asked because she had to. “Did you give me a bag of coffee?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  Chapter Four

  Chaz

  The funny thing about being a vampire was the memories. He watched her go into shock, knowing exactly how each moment felt—the spread of fear that locked every muscle in the body, the fade from pale to white, and that last complete blank before passing out.

  “Whoa! Wait a minute. Don’t—”

  He reached out. Stacy’s eyes widened. Her shoulders stiffened. Instead of fainting, she skittered back against the booth’s cushion, but she knew enough not to forget the pistol. The safety clicked off and she had it pointed straight at him faster than he ever expected.

  He reared back, hands up in the air, palms facing her. “Sorry. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself. You were about to faint.”

  She nodded, very carefully, and very deliberately. She looked completely sober. “So you’re a vampire.”

  “Yes.” Did she really believe him? “May I lower my hands?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I swear.”

  She looked down at the pistol in her hand, no longer accepting its ability to protect her. “You said bullets don’t kill you.”

  “No. But they make holes that hurt a lot. And I bleed profusely for a while. They don’t kill until you use a lot of them, and I can’t…replenish.”

  “Replenish?”

  “Yes. Blood. I can bleed out.”

  Her head moved up and down in slow motion. Yeah. She was in shock. But he had to admit, she was handling things better than he expected.

  “And you can hear my thoughts so any plan I try to devise to get away, you’ll know it, won’t you?”

  “Yes.” His secret was out, and Chaz wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Black and white had gone awful gray awful fast. Still, most of this was his fault. “I’m sorry.”

  Her brows lifted. “Sorry?”

  “I don’t like invading a human’s privacy. And you’re not supposed to know I exist. I gave you the drug twice tonight. I dare not try a third time.”

  “Drug? You drugged me?”

  “To make you forget that I drank your blood and what just happened.”

  She pursed her lips then bit her lower lip, deep in thought, but her sharp gaze never left him, nor did the pistol pointed at his chest. “You want me to forget that I discharged my firearm, put three bullets into someone, and ignore that a man whose name I think is Jim, just died?”

  Chaz scowled. “I have no choice.”

  “Well, I do.” She settled the gun back into her palm, and her fingers tightened around the grip, making him angry. He wasn’t the enemy. “And that’s not going to happen.”

  “Look,” he growled, stepping to the table next to them. He pressed his palms into the wood so he wouldn’t do something stupid. He stared as if sheer will could make her understand. “You’re not listening, and I’m running out of moonlight here. I have friends coming back here who need to believe you’re out cold. Besides, I already know you’re dead on your feet.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Not meant as a joke. You’re exhausted, and I’m going to fall asleep soon. Can we maybe go back to your house? I’ll explain more when we get there.”

  “And make me walk away from a crime scene?”

  “There is no crime scene,” he exploded. “The guard is lying in his bed in his home as we spea
k. His family will believe he had a heart attack and died very peacefully in his bed. We’ll have washed away the blood in the parking lot by morning. The hole in the brick wall will be repaired and a thought given to Pat that a truck backed into it by accident. Shall I continue?”

  She took each statement as a blow. Her body flinched, but she never moved to block or parry. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because you’re not supposed to know I exist. I mean, humans aren’t.” Chaz found he didn’t like hurting her. “Being invisible has allowed us to survive for millennia. You tend to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “So you’re just going to simply cover up a murder?”

  God, she could be one-track. “It’s not like that.” But it was. And he knew it. More importantly, she knew it. “He already had clogged arteries. He was a walking time bomb waiting to explode.”

  “Wait a minute. How do you know that? And how does that justify what you’ve done?”

  “It doesn’t. I could hear the blood flow through his blood vessels. He was a heart attack waiting to happen.”

  “He was a man. A simple man. Probably thinking about nothing more important than grabbing a bite because his shift was done.”

  One hand left the pistol and picked up her phone. She began to dial. Damn it! “Why can’t you simply accept what I am and what happened for now?”

  Because he had no choice, Chaz flashed over to her and plucked the cell out of her grasp, then regained his previous position all in the time it took for her to blink. He closed the call. “I can’t let you call anyone. I’m sorry.”

  She stared at him like he was some kind of freak. Then her brows drew together, and her lips thinned. “You’re sorry? Did it ever occur to you that maybe he had a family? Children? That he might have a soccer game to go to or a baseball game or a movie that he promised to attend?”

  “Yes.” Hurt seeped through him, but he couldn’t change the past, only protect the future. So he lifted his chin and answered, “I’ve been protecting humans for the last seven hundred and fifty years.”