“Reyes, what the hell are you talking about? Have you been sipping tequila while on the job again?”
“Don’t play crazy with me. You know I have a sixth sense about these things and regardless of the serious damage you are no doubt doing to the poor dummy across the room, your ass is glowing.”
“Must be my new moisturizer.”
“Moisturizer my ass. I’m not going to tell Reiya because she will positively lose her shit, but seriously Cara I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I am not doing anything,” Cara said defensively. “It was a mistake. One that you do not have to worry about me making again.”
Reyes eyed her for a minute before being satisfied with what he saw in her expression. “Fine,” he conceded. A wicked smile appeared on his face. “So since we are on the subject. Spill the beans about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Deadly. It was a stupid thing to do, but I can’t say I blame you. He is a quite fuckable specimen of a man.”
Cara rolled her eyes into the phone. “We are so not having this conversation Reyes. I refuse to give you more fodder for your dirty fantasies.”
“You say that now,” Reyes teased her. “But just wait until you get home. After I ply you with half a dozen shots of tequila you’ll be singing like a canary.”
James politely cleared his throat in the doorway.
“I have to go Reyes, bye,” Cara laughed into the phone.
“His Grace would like you to meet him on the airstrip. Everything is set for you to leave.”
His Grace my ass, Cara thought to herself as she followed the butler out of the training room.
Twenty-Two
The Viceroy killed in Brazil occupied a plantation home nestled in its mountainous region before he died. Asad used a strip of land located three miles north of his home to land the plane. He stayed behind with it while Cara and Aiden interviewed his mate and investigated the surrounding lands for any hint of the wolves. A tall redhead with freckles spotting her exposed skin showed them to a sitting room. She appeared to be in her early 40s but it was a lie. The extraordinary slowness with which vampires aged meant she was closer to a couple hundred years old. She motioned for the pair to sit on a floral-patterned sofa. The quaintness of the furniture was in direct contrast with the modernity of her look. She sported designer red high heels and a fitted black dress suit whose neckline plunged low across her exposed breasts. The heat radiating from her eyes whenever she looked at Aiden made Cara want to gouge them out. A maid entered the room and sat down a tray of elegantly painted china that chinked together when it connected with the table. Their hostess leaned over to pick one up. She lingered in the position giving Aiden a bird’s eye view of her full breasts.
This bitch is a piece of work, Cara thought to herself. She had recently lost her mate and was shamelessly dangling herself like a shiny new toy in front of Aiden.
“Would you like tea?” She asked him in a low and throaty voice that made it clear she was offering up much more than what was in the cups.
“I would in fact.” His hands brushed hers as he took the cup.
Cara bit down on her tongue against the green-eyed monster rearing its head within her. What did she care if Aiden accepted tea or anything else from her? They slept together but they were not a thing. He could interact with whomever he wanted however he wanted.
“How long will you be in the region? We should…”
“Get to the reason we came,” Cara cut her off.
The female vampire looked at her like one would look at a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe. “And you are?”
“A person who kills vampires for a living.” Cara put the implicit threat of death in her eyes.
“How…how can I be of assistance?” their hostess stammered as her skin blanched.
“Can you think of anything unusual happening leading up to your husbands death? Maybe someone new came into town or somebody suspicious started hanging around him?” Cara would have felt sympathy toward the grief that flashed through her eyes at the mention of her husband if she had not witnessed her throwing herself at Aiden only moments earlier.
“Not that I recall, but we were estranged for the past decade or so. We lived together, but did not interact very much. You should ask his business partner, Nikolas. You can find him at the fight club in the city. Blood matches were something of an obsession for Richard and him.”
“We will do that,” Cara said even as she inwardly winced. She was not looking forward to having to witness the barbaric custom again.
“Thank you, Rochelle. We need to look around the site where Richard’s body was found and then we will be going,” Aiden said standing to his feet.
She did not bother to hide her disappointment at Aiden leaving so soon. “Of course, Your Grace,” she sighed with a pout. “I would love for you to stay and visit awhile longer. It has been too long since we last visited your father’s court, but I understand you have important matters to attend.” She stood to escort them to the door. “If you find yourself with spare time on your hands before you leave the region please do not hesitate to call. As always I am at your service, Your Grace.”
I bet you are, Cara bitterly thought to herself.
“Tell me the truth. How do you really track vampires Hunter?” Aiden gently demanded as he showed her the site where the Brazilian Viceroy’s body was found torn to shreds by the wolves.
Cara contemplated lying or feigning ignorance but since he insisted on sticking to her side like glue while she worked he would find out sooner rather than later anyway. “I track them by the signature scent they leave behind. Each vampire’s is subtly different from the next but you all trail a basic scent that is akin to myrrh. It’s an earthy, mildly sweet smell.”
“Is that how all hunters track vampires?” He asked even though he knew the answer. He was curious as to how much Cara had gleamed over the years about her uniqueness.
She shook her head. “No. I don’t know why, but I am different. It is just something I have always been able to do. I first realized I could identify vampires by their scent the day I found my father’s body and realized the sweet, earthy odor I sometimes smelled meant a vampire was around. Like I said, you all have subtle differences in the way you smell. Once I became a hunter I realized I could follow the unique scents back to the vampires who own them.”
They came to a clearing in the wooded lands that surrounded the Viceroy’s estate. “What do you smell now?” He asked her.
Cara stopped moving and allowed her senses to open up to the outside world. She waded through the various scents of the surrounding woods until she caught one that was entirely foreign to her but elicited the same visceral feeling of wrongness she felt when she picked up on the scent of a vampire. “Aside from you and other vampires in the area, I smell musk mixed with sandalwood. It’s raw and woody and almost overwhelming. Is it the wolves?” She asked Aiden.
He had a satisfied look in his eyes. “I believe it is. This is the spot Richard’s remains were found. Can you follow the trail?”
“No,” Cara shook her head in frustration. She had already tried before he asked. “It is too old. I can only track scents that have been recently left.”
“How recent?”
Cara shrugged her shoulder. “I have never tested it to an exact number of days before, but from prior experience I would guess maybe no older than three or four days. So werewolves are really real?” She asked him again.
“I already told you they are.”
“I know. I am just having a hard time wrapping my mind around it.”
“Let’s go,” he held out his hand to her. “Humans always need to see something to believe it. Let’s go question Nikolas.”
They used one of the deceased Viceroy’s vehicles to drive into the city. It was only an hour drive and more practical than flying the plane.
“You two seemed familiar.” The accusation came out before Cara could stop it.
Aiden shrugged as he maneuvered the sleek sedan ar
ound a narrow curve. “Rochelle and her husband Richard frequently visited my father’s court. Rochelle likes the court life a lot more than she ever admitted to her mate.”
Cara snorted. “I don’t think it was your father’s court she wanted to visit.”
A ghost of a smile played at the corners of Aiden’s mouth. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were jealous.”
“If I didn’t know any better I would say you were delusional.” Despite her protests that damn knowing smile remained in place.
---
The bouncer in front of the steel door bowed his head reverently in Aiden’s direction and let them pass.
“Do you get treated like royalty everywhere you go?” Cara shouted at Aiden over the raucous of the crowd. One of the men in the steel cage that decorated the center of the concrete floor had just broken the ribs of his opponent. They were sticking out of his chest at an odd angle that made Cara herself wince in pain.
“I’m not like royalty, I am royalty,” Aiden shouted back at her. “And yes, if people want to keep their heads.”
Cara rolled her eyes. “You are a pompous jackass you know that?”
“And you are the only one who can get away with saying that. Come on,” he grabbed her hand to lead her through the crowd. “Richard’s partner should be in the boxes.”
Cara looked in the direction he jerked his head. High above the steel cage were rows of glass that housed private suites for the viewing of the rich and important who did not want to mingle with the crowd.
Nikolas proved to be as much help as Rochelle. At least he did not offer his self up on a silver platter for Aiden’s feasting.
“I wish I could be of greater service, Your Grace, but outside of the fight club Richard lived a boring life. He mostly kept to himself. I really cannot think of any reason someone would want him dead,” he regretfully informed them.
---
“Where to now?” Cara asked Aiden as they stood outside his plane. Asad was inside prepping for takeoff.
“Asad will return you the island. I may stick around Brazil for the night. Take Rochelle up,” a throwing knife whizzed past his temple and grazed his ear cutting off the remainder of his sentence. The cut healed too quickly for any blood to be shed. “I thought you weren’t jealous?” He devilishly grinned at Cara.
“I’m not,” She huffed crossing her arms over her chest. He set a trap and she walked right into it.
Aiden reached out and grabbed her around the waist. He pulled her flush against his body. “You don’t have to throw a tantrum love. You can stay too. It has been a while since I had a threesome.”
She shoved him away from her in disgust. “You are revolting.”
“That is not what you said last night.” He tried to grab her again, but Cara dodged the attempt. He chuckled behind her all the way onto the plane.
Twenty-Three
The next night Cara zoomed through narrow Medellín streets straddled atop a sleek Kawasaki Ninja. The bike was not as powerful as her precious Ducati, but she could not deny its sweetness. Its engine quietly purred like a baby kitten beneath her. Bikes were her other weakness. She loved the rush of the ride and the feel of the wind battering against her body. Aiden rode in sync beside her. He claimed the bikes were more inconspicuous than a sedan or armored SUV. Medellín, Colombia was home to the largest drug cartel in the world and they were trying not to attract unwanted attention. Having to deal with drug dealers would be a pain in the ass.
The Colombian Viceroy’s estate was nestled in the middle of Medellín’s mountainous highlands region. Despite having a reputation steeped in blood and drugs, it was a beautiful city. It boasted a mix of old world architecture and modern sky rises set against a backdrop of lush, green rolling hills. Cara noticed they’d picked up a tail about twelve miles outside of the city limits. The annoyed look on his face confirmed that Aiden noticed it too. He motioned for her to bring her bike to a halt as he did the same.
“Do you have blades on you?” He shouted to her over the noise of two other motorcycles growling to a stop around them.
“I never leave home without a set.” She grinned as she brandished a pair of kunai customized with serrated edges she was dying to try out.
“Medellín is a dangerous place for tourists,” one of the cyclists called out to them as he dismounted his bike.
“Especially tourists with obvious money to blow. I hear people go missing around these parts and turn up without their heads days later when their families don’t pay their ransoms quick enough, ” another one felt the need to add his two scents in.
“I’ll tell you what,” the first one held out his hands in a placating gesture, “why don’t you give us the number to your closest family member. We can call them, give them an account number, they can make a deposit of let’s say twenty grand and then we can let you nice couple go on your way. I promise.”
Awesome. Moron One and Moron Two decided to play good cop, bad cop. Cara rolled her eyes.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said mimicking the same falsely placating tone he used with them. “Why don’t you and jackass over there get back on your bikes and ride off to do whatever it is drug dealers do with their spare time. I promise the night will end much better for you if you do.”
“Bitch, who you think you are?” Bad cop started toward her. He took two steps then Aiden was lifting him into the air by the throat. He intentionally lengthened his fangs and let his eyes glow a dim gold. The smell of urine scented the air as the drug dealer realized he was in the crosshairs of a predator greater than himself.
So much for the bad cop act, Cara thought. “We, we don’t want any problems,” he stammered in fear.
Aiden squeezed his hand tighter around his throat cutting off any remaining pleas. “Too late. You should have listened to the lady instead of insulting her when you had the chance.” His tone remained free of inflection. As if the effort he expended to extinguish his life was no more than one might use to squash a small bug.
The dealer’s body crumpled to the ground. Good Cop stupidly pulled his gun and aimed it at Aiden. Cara’s reflexes were quicker than his trigger finger. The gun was never a threat. He could have emptied the entire clip into Aiden and he would have swiftly recovered. To take out a vampire you needed to decapitate them or irrevocably maim their heart beyond repair. Still, Cara was not about to stand by and let him get shot. One of her kunai’s embedded itself in the man’s jugular at the same time the other one embedded itself between his eyes. Blood spurted from the nicked carotid artery.
“Overkill much?” Aiden drawled as he retrieved her knives for her and wiped them clean on his leather jacket
She took the knives he held out to her then pointedly looked at Bad Cop laying beside his bike. “Look who is talking.”
They made their way to the Viceroy’s estate. His staff that remained behind to look after it could tell them about as much as Rochelle and Nikolas. When Aiden took her to the site where his body was found, it was also the same case as in Brazil. She picked up the smell of musk and sandalwood, but the scent was too old for her to follow. She left Colombia frustrated beyond reason. She was no closer to finding her father’s murderer than she was when she left Manhattan.
Twenty-Four
"Give me silence, water, hope. Give me struggle, iron, volcanos," Cara reverently recited as the helicopter they rode in flew over the mountain top made famous by Pablo Neruda himself.
"I didn't know you were a fan of poetry." Aiden
looked at her bemused.
"I didn't know you read," she quipped.
He covered his heart with his hand in mock insult. "You wound me, Hunter. I am not as uncivilized as you think."
"Ha! Tell that to the man you killed with your bare hands in Medellín."
"Says the hunter who buried a blade in his partner's jugular. What's that old adage about the pot calling the kettle black?"
In the days since their encounter they had fallen back
into an easy rhythm of light banter. They had not slept together again, nor would they Cara mentally reminded herself. Their physical coupling made things too complicated between them. It laid bare the things she felt for Aiden that she could never have with him.
Their chopper landed at the home of the third murdered Viceroy. Unlike the Brazilian and Colombian Viceroys, the Peruvian Viceroy called a modest cottage nestled in a little village along the base of the Andean mountain range home. Cara was not prepared for the human woman that invited them into her home or the small child that peeped from behind her leg, curious about their visitors.
"Bennett was my mate," she told Cara and Aiden as she poured them the coffee she insisted they accept. "I know it is unusual for a vampire and a human to marry but we loved each other dearly. We met shortly after I was married off by my father as a young woman to a brute of a man in our village. It was only days after I gave birth to my beautiful Lila here that he found my first husband beating me in our home because I was not yet able to return to my wifely duties. He probably would have beaten me to death that day if Bennett had not come upon our cottage. He killed the bastard and offered to take Lila and me with him. He promised to care for us and protect us. I had no reason to believe him but I did. I looked into his eyes and knew I would forever be safe with him. He dotted on and spoiled Lila as if she were his own. I know the myths. Humans who acknowledge they exist make vampires out to be monsters, and some of them probably are, but Bennett was the most compassionate man I have ever met. I cannot understand why someone would want to take him from us."
The fresh grief reflected in Freya's eyes made Cara think of her own. The woman and her young child reminded Cara of her and her own mother after her father's death. Her mother could not understand why someone would take her husband away either. Whereas Freya remained a strong and determined woman in the face of her grief, Cara's mother fell a part neglecting everything including her daughter in her grief-induced madness.
Born In Blood (Born Hunter Book 1) Page 15
