The Protectors: The Blood Bar Chronicles, Book 2

by Chellie Edwards

  “True, but I can damn well find out what the hell is going on. Will you help?”

  “Of course.” Derrom nipped his lip. “Mmm, nice. How?”

  “Watch and learn. Help me sit up.” Damn, he was still weak as a kitten but with Derrom’s help was sitting propped up against the pillows when Tavvy came back into the bedroom, carrying a tray with three mugs, steam rising from them.

  “That kitchen is a vegetarian’s nightmare,” she was saying. “I had to get the milk out of the fridge by touch. What’s up?” She was looking at Ehrst as she spoke. He watched color drain from her face as she set the tray down with trembling hands.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? What’s going on?”

  “You tell me, Miranda.” Thank the Lord he’d remembered the name she had been going by in Singapore.

  She paled even further, if that was even possible. “Pardon?” Oh, she had spunk, he’d give her that.

  “You heard, Miranda,” he said evenly. “And don’t even think of doing the ‘whatever do you mean’ stuff. You know fine what the fuck I mean. Now I can thank you—and by God, I do—for helping Derrom to save my life. That’s something else. But tell me why would a sleeper from the organization be watching my club? Watching me? And don’t lie,” he said, his strength seeming to return with every word he uttered. Next to him he felt Derrom move and touch his arm to…what? Urge caution?

  “Not too much.” He heard the quiet warning. “Don’t overdo it; you’ve still a long way to go.”

  He nodded his understanding, but he knew before he could give his strength to healing he had to find out what was going on. “Well?” he demanded. “You going to come clean, Miranda? Or should I stick with Barbie?” Hell, she looks like a wounded deer or something equally soft and gooey. Well, tough, I need answers. “So?”

  “So,” she said. “If you call me Barbie once more I’m going to shove your balls into your ass. Understand? My name is Octavia. Tavvy to my friends, and at the moment, you don’t fall into that category. Fuck buddies or not, which by the way, is an expression I hate. For now, I can’t think of anything better, except just fuckers, no buddies involved.”

  Ouch, he thought, that was them told. “Well, fuckers we may be, Octavia.” He stressed each syllable slowly. “But isn’t that the case of the pot calling the kettle black? Perhaps you could tell me.” His voice rose, even though he could feel the effort it took him. Dammit, I thought I was getting stronger, now I’m ready to fall asleep again. “What is bloody well going on?”

  Slowly she handed both him and Derrom a mug of tea each before taking up her own mug and deliberately—foolishly, he thought—moving on to the bed, resting on her knees opposite them.

  Unfortunately it gave him a beautiful view of her breasts and shaven pussy. He could feel himself getting hard again.

  Next to him Derrom’s breath fanned his ear. “It’s going to take time to get all your strength back, so not the time, to think about sex, love.” Well damn, he knew that but try telling his cock.

  “Waiting.”

  She glared. “If you don’t shut up, you’ll be waiting till Doomsday. Right.” She took a deep gulp. “This is going to sound terrible. I’m trembling.”

  Derrom pulled back the duvet and nudged Ehrst. “Come sit between us, then. Nothing can be that bad if you were prepared to do what you did last night.”

  “It can, you know.” Nevertheless she did as he suggested and moved between them. Ehrst noticed Derrom put his arm over her shoulder, glaring at him to do likewise. Reluctantly he did, and then when he felt her shake, he gave her shoulder a squeeze.

  “Hey, just tell us what we are up against, why they’ve sent a spy to watch a spy. And why you.”

  “Because they think you’re selling secrets to Sartoria,” she said bluntly. “Therefore compromising the security of the country and our armed forces by passing them information via a country or organization unknown to us as yet, through here. We had a tip-off that something would go down this week. Oh, shut up.” She spluttered as both men laughed at her choice of words.

  “Something or someone sure did. Very well as I recall,” Ehrst said and hugged her without thinking. “Seriously, though. Why? Why me, why here, and who said?”

  “It was Flannergan who sent me up here.”

  “That bastard, I might have guessed. Head of internal security. Hard, mean and a total prick,” he explained to Derrom. “Hates my guts because I refused his not so generous offer to be his second-in-command. Ha! I’d rather be second-in-command to a…a…”

  “Vamp? Witch? Mix of both?” Derrom asked helpfully.

  “No, you bastard. You pick something evil, and that’s your answer. Anything would be better than him. I wouldn’t trust him to unzip his fly without catching something. Oh, well, you get the idea. So why am I the lucky recipient of his attention? Because I turned him down?”

  “Partly.” Tavvy’s voice was serious. “But in truth, Ehrst, there is evidence that something’s going on here. It’s not just a bar for all sorts of people to meet, though you do get some weirdoes in here. It’s more than that.” Derrom winked, and Ehrst frowned at him. Luckily Tavvy ignored him and went on. “There is evidence of secrets about Salem being passed, and one of the guys we traced not only visits here on a regular basis, he’s linked to Sartoria. So since it’s your bar, Flannergan decided you had to be the traitor. He thought you didn’t know me, so I was selected to come here and see what was up. I didn’t quite expect the ‘up’ to be us.” She blushed.

  Ehrst gave her a brief, hard kiss on the lips. He looked at Derrom. “Salem. It’s an ultra secret new defense system that’s now in trials. Lots of countries and organizations would kill for it.” He snickered. “Well, they tried, didn’t they, but thanks to you two they didn’t succeed. But seriously, I’m no fucking traitor.”

  “Yes I realize that now. It doesn’t change the fact that someone is, though. And they’re making sure you are their camouflage.”

  “I think,” Derrom butted in, “that attack on you was to keep the blame with you, Ehrst. If you were dead, it would be assumed it was because you were a traitor. Maybe even get Tavvy blamed for the killing. You upset anyone lately, Ba— er, Tavvy?”

  She looked puzzled, and then realization showed in her eyes. “Fuck me. I turned down Flannergan’s very slimy advances just before I came up here. He offered me an evening of BDSM. I said as long as I could be the D, and he nearly choked on his Earl Grey. So you could say I’ve upset him. And, well, there’s more.”

  “You can tell us,” Derrom said as she hesitated.

  Tavvy sighed. “Yeah, well, he’s my godfather. The bastard. My mum’s stepbrother’s cousin. And he thought I’d go for it.”

  Derrom leaned in and kissed both her and Ehrst, a brief grin on his lips. “He doesn’t know you very well, then, does he? So there is a lot going on, and a hell of a lot we need to do.”

  Ehrst smiled, realizing how lucky he was. Not only in being alive, but also with the generosity of his lovers, their willingness to give, everything they could, to save his life, and to help their future. “How are we going to do all this shit?” he asked cautiously. “I don’t want to put either of you at risk. Someone tried to get rid of me with whatever the pair off you drew out of me and blame Tavvy for it.”

  Derrom laughed. “Me? You can’t. Tavvy? I’ll make sure you won’t. You? We’re not going to lose you again. Fuck, another night like tonight, and I’ll have no balls left. And not cos Tavvy’s cut them off either. It seems to me we need a strategic plan, a strategy to work on. Any ideas?”

  Ehrst looked at both him and Tavvy. A big grin spread over her face.

  “Well,” she said a wicked glint in her eyes. “If Derrom’s balls can stand it, he did mention something about me taking both of you inside me.”

  EPILOGUE

  The next day

  Tavvy was sore in the best possible way. Damn, if she didn’t feel she was walking bowlegged or with a limp. Over tw
enty-four hours of nonstop hot sex tended to have that effect on a body, especially with not one but two generous lovers. However, when she finally turned her phone on, the messages from Flannergan got increasingly more acerbic in their tone. Ehrst read them grimly and passed the phone to Derrom.

  “That final one is menacing; he’s losing the plot. Time to move?” he asked.

  “Time to move. We head to my hidey-hole and do some planning. Tavvy, you got everything?”

  “Shoot no. I think my coat and stuff must still be downstairs in the club or on some tramp’s back.”

  Ehrst laughed. “Nah, I bet it’ll be somewhere safe. We’ll go and look now before it opens up.”

  “It’s in the cupboard. I asked Dev to collect it.” Derrom frowned. “Sam had cleared off after bloody Malachi did his stuff.’

  “Ah.” Tavvy was aghast. “The girls I was with, they’re going to come back again tonight. Could I wait to see them?”

  Both men shook their heads. “Not after that last text,” Derrom said. “We need to move, like an hour ago. Leave them a note or something. Give it to me, I’ll take it into the bar, warn Sam and Dev to beware of anything untoward, and grab your stuff. You get ready to leave out the safe way with Ehrst. I’ll meet you by my car. Ehrst knows where.”

  She sighed; she’d really have liked to meet up with the girls, not only just to apologize. They were people she would like to get to know better. Still, those texts had begun to frighten her. If her lovers—how she adored saying that—said it was time to go, then go they would.

  She scribbled a few words, to thank Noelle, asked her to pass her apologies on, and to leave an address where she could contact her. She guessed she wouldn’t be able to leave any way for Noelle to contact her.

  Derrom scanned the note as she handed it to him.

  “Good girl.” He kissed her; it went straight to her toes and back again. “Sensible with no way for anyone to get hold of you. Right, you follow Ehrst, and I’ll see you in five. Ready?”

  BIOGRAPHY

  Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.

  She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.

  Her very understanding, and long-suffering DH, is used to his questions unanswered, the dust bunnies greeting him as he walks through the door, and rescuing burned offerings from the Aga. (And passing her a glass of wine as she types furiously.)

  Protecting His Own

  Xandra James

  To the UCW ladies. You’re amazing!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sam looked around the crowded bar, assessing each and every female and dismissing them all in turn.

  His focus lingered on one woman, and his gazetravelled down her luscious body before coming back to her face. The curly-haired redhead was cute, but her eyes told a different tale. Emotional baggage. He could smell it a mile off.

  His stool, at the end of the bar, gave him a good view of everything that happened in his establishment. Sam played with the label on his bottle of beer and allowed his eyes to reluctantly move away from the woman who’d now joined a large group—the group that had most of his patrons gagging for a piece of them.

  Sam took the last gulp of his drink and chucked the bottle into a large container marked “bottles.” It hit with a chink, and one of the regulars looked up and caught his eye. The old man nodded, his haggard face telling the stories of many lifetimes. Charlie had been sitting on that chair longer Sam and his business partner, Ehrst, had owned the place, and Sam had a soft spot for him.

  “Still not got laid then, son.”

  A soft spot that was quickly disappearing, it seemed. Annoyance bubbled in his chest. “I get more than you do, old man.”

  Charlie threw his head back and laughed, showing holes where teeth should have been. Sam pushed his fingers through his dark brown hair and waited for him to stop.

  Charlie chuckled a few more times and turned his bright blue eyes back to Sam. “Tell me, gargoyle, when was the last time?” Sam didn’t want to discuss his sex life with him but knew Charlie was like a dog with a bone.

  “Three months ago.” He was ashamed to admit it. It was the longest time he’d gone without since he was fourteen years old.

  Charlie smiled into his glass as he chugged down more of his Guinness before wiping his mouth on his sleeve and looking back at him. “I got some last night, Sammy.”

  Sam’s embarrassment was complete. An eighty-six-year-old had more game than him. He considered going back behind the bar to grab something stronger and take it upstairs to his flat but knew he should hang around here, given that the portal was bringing in a few extra people tonight. A lot of which were new to him.

  Scattered across the world, portals allowed supes to come and go as they pleased from different worlds. Many were located in plain view of humans, as indeed this was. His bar might be in a secluded back street of Edinburgh with little passing traffic, but it was a well-known northern portal and was constantly in use.

  Getting off of his stool, he patted Charlie’s shoulder and grinned at him. Silly old bastard would probably outlive him. And get more sex.

  Sam could have any woman he set his heart on. It was a fact, not a boast. Yet lately he wanted more. He wanted what many in his extended family had: kids, a home in the suburbs, and a warm body in bed every night. He sighed and moved around to the back of the bar. Sam’s leg was stiff from all the sitting, and his limp was prominent. The pain was something he just lived with nowadays.

  Memories of that time just a year before were still fresh in his mind, and his fist clenched as he thought of Dan. Of what the bastard had done to his team. He briefly closed his eyes before telling himself to let it go. There was nothing he could do now. Everyone was dead. And he shouldn’t be alive.

  He stopped at the cash register to check change on his journey down the bar, happy for a distraction. Pleased with what was there, he turned to see one of his bartenders serve Henri. What the hell is that vampire doing here tonight? Nothing good happens when that piece of shit is about.

  Every one of his instincts came on red alert. He’d felt itchy for an hour, watching supes of all species come and go. It was nothing unusual to see them; hell, most of the clientele were supes anyway, but something about tonight…

  Sam’s gaze fell on the loud table in the back of the club where the ladies were. They were attracting a lot of attention, almost too much. Most of the male supes had half an eye on the group. Had he missed something?

  Gargoyles knew when trouble was on their doorstep and were protective by nature, which was part of why Ehrst was so happy to get into business with him. His past training in the security firm had taught him well. Sam propped his foot up onto a barrel of beer, and his hand automatically felt for his gun. He took advantage, stretching his knee slightly, and waited for the surrounding muscles to stop its spasms, still keeping an eye on the room. Despite most of the supes not being able to be killed by conventional methods, a silver bullet to the chest would take them down. And that was exactly what he intended to do if things turned ugly.

  He pulled out the weapon, making sure his form was blending into the bar so no one would get overly jittery, an ability that was very handy to have on occasion. Sam checked the ammo and slipped the gun under his T-shirt and into the back of his jeans. He leaned across the bar, catching the eye of the security guy, indicating to him to make sure he handled whatever lie ahead.

  Just as he straightened back up, there was a noise at the entrance, and he looked over. A group of wolves stepped apart to let in the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long time. Sam’s mouth was dry as he took in her appearance. Short, dark skirt, knee-high brown leather boots, a dark gray sweater slipping down her shoulder to show tantalizing skin that made his dick stand up to attention.
<
br />   She moved through the men, barely acknowledging them, but all noticed her. Her long, wavy blonde hair almost touched her backside as she stopped and looked around the room. Seeing her target, a large smile appeared on her face, and she strode through the stares and over to the group of women.

  Sam pulled out another bottle of beer on autopilot and guzzled half down, his eyes not leaving her. The potential trouble in the bar forgotten, he once again allowed his gaze to roam over her in the dim mood lighting of the bar. His energy levels surged as a smile tugged at his mouth.

  He was in love.

  ***

  Nina lifted her chin and strode across the room, knowing if she hesitated, she’d turn on her heel and run back to her cozy cottage. Male eyes followed her, instinctually she went to ignore them, but she had to remember why she was here. Nina smiled slightly at a beautiful male lounging gracefully against a wall, half hidden by the shadows.

  His gaze dipped lower over her body, and she resisted a shiver before he caught her eye again and smiled. Nina blinked at the sparkling teeth that greeted her. She suddenly felt like little Red Riding Hood.

  Shaking the feeling, she quickened her pace across the room, drawing closer to her writing buddies. They’d outdone themselves this time with the location. They were always going for authentic, but this time was just, well, creepy. She had the distinct feeling that all wasn’t what it seemed.

  The hubbub emanating from the table made her focus on her friends again, and she pushed her unease to the back of her mind. She wasn’t used to social gatherings, but she made an exception for these, and tonight was special. At least Nina hoped it would be. “Hey, girls.”

  The whole table turned as one, and she was quickly brought into the conversation and offered a glass of wine.