Temptation Calls

by Caridad Piñeiro

  A cold hard fact some would say she was cruel to hold to. But it was what she believed. Her husband Elias had deserved to die. If she hadn’t been such a coward, taken matters into her own hands, her child would be alive. And maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t be the way she was today.

  They sat for long minutes, each trapped in their own personal hell, and then he laid his hand over hers. She didn’t pull away.

  “Did you kill your husband?”

  She let out a strangled laugh. “In my dreams sometimes. But no, I didn’t. He was killed in a card game.”

  “And his death set you free?”

  “I thought that it would, only it didn’t.”

  Peter saw something in her face he hadn’t expected to see. There were more layers to this woman than the few he’d peeled away so far. Layers that went deep, ones that maybe he didn’t want to disturb. Perhaps it was this unknown quality that kept bringing him back, and made him want to share. “When my wife left, I hated her. After the divorce, I felt free…for all of about two seconds.”

  “And then?” she asked, her hand still beneath his, but trembling, as if it cost her a great deal to allow his touch.

  “Like you I realized it hadn’t. Other people can’t set you free. That comes from within.”

  Slowly she twined her fingers with his and his heart did a funky drum roll in the middle of his chest. The guys at the precinct would get a real kick out of this. Big tough detective melting inside from a simple touch. But in that touch was the promise of so much more. More than he had thought possible after his wife’s betrayal.

  But that promise brought fear, because he wasn’t sure this—whatever was between them—was a good thing. And fear for her, because she wasn’t safe from the last suspect.

  Reluctant to break contact with her, he fumbled with the last photo, which he placed on the table beside the other two. “This is the third suspect. He may come back here if he thinks you’ve fingered him.”

  “May I keep that photo? Show it to the others in the shelter.” There was little concern in her voice.

  “You need to be careful, Samantha. He may be young, but he’s dangerous.”

  “I know, Peter. I can take care of things, as can the other women here. We’re used to dealing with violence.” Her smile transformed her face. “Besides, I suspect we’ll be seeing our share of you around here until this guy is caught. Right?”

  Peter chuckled, relieved by the unexpected invitation into her world. Wanting to keep the moment light, because he sensed she’d had too much darkness in her life, he said, “Only if you promise to make me more of those square sugary things.”

  She gave a quick laugh. “So it is true, then.”

  “What’s true?”

  “That the way to a cop’s heart is with a donut.”

  Blake was missing.

  He hadn’t been to the club in days. Totally unlike the socially needy vampire whose undead life revolved around the Blood Bank and its occupants. Not to mention that Blake had said he intended to find Meghan. Maybe he had. Maybe that’s why he was missing now.

  “Are there any others gone besides Blake and Meghan?” Samantha asked Diego.

  He gave an elegant shrug. “I’ve tried to ask around, but no one wants to be involved. They have their own groups to protect and don’t want to become mired in our problems.”

  “Our problems? Since when is Blake—”

  “Our problem? Amiga, most of the others would have willingly ripped his throat out if not for the punishment that might bring from me.”

  “Maybe they ran off together? After all, Blake sired her. Maybe she finally realized just how wonderful a thing that was.” Esperanza was aflutter as she proposed this theory. She slipped her arm through Diego’s and smiled at him lovingly.

  Diego patted her arm, but met Samantha’s gaze across the small width of their table. He knew she held no love for the vampire who’d sired her. He’d been cruel and savage, forcing her to do things that, to this day, Samantha regretted.

  “Maybe we should talk to someone.” As soon as she suggested it she wished she hadn’t. Who could a vampire call when they needed help? That had been the human within speaking, forgetting that no one would wish to help someone like her.

  “Your mortal friend has been hanging around too much, querida. He’s making you forget what you are.”

  It had only been a few days since Peter began dropping by the shelter, presumably to keep an eye on things until the third suspect in the shooting was captured. He visited in the early morning before his shift and they shared a cup of coffee. At night, if she glanced out the parlor window, she’d see his car parked outside. Peter would be sitting behind the wheel, sipping a cup of coffee or reading the paper.

  It was…comforting. A word she had not ever been able to use to describe her relationship with a man. There was a gentleness about him, even though she knew he was capable of violence. And there was pain in him as well. She’d felt it when he’d told her about killing the two suspects and about his ex-wife’s betrayal.

  She saw it when he gazed at the children during breakfast. His yearning made her wonder why he hadn’t remarried and had children of his own. But she wouldn’t ask, just like she knew he wouldn’t ask again about her husband. Because the questions would lead to an intimacy far greater than the two of them could ever share.

  Now, as they ordered shots from the waitress, Diego repeated his warning, “You can never be what he wants, Samantha.”

  There was no point in arguing. He was right. So she said, “What do you think happened to Blake and Meghan?”

  Esperanza, still flustered and romantic, repeated her earlier suggestion. “They’ve gone off together. I’m sure of it. Meghan finally came to her senses.”

  Diego forced a smile. “I’m sure that’s what happened, mi amor,” he said. But as he dropped a kiss on Esperanza’s forehead, Samantha saw his concern.

  Something had happened to their friends and it seemed like they would have to go at it all alone to find out what.

  Chapter 10

  W hen Blake woke, all he could remember was pain.

  From the first sharp blast that had weakened his knees, to the second that had knocked him out. When he roused, he’d found himself chained to a wall, and the pain had only gotten worse.

  The old dude he’d seen with Meghan had stood before Blake, wearing a white lab jacket, something long and shiny sticking out of his pocket. A hypodermic Blake had realized, as he was poked, prodded, and sliced open slowly so Mr. Mad Scientist could use him as a lab rat until Blake passed out from the torment.

  But now, as consciousness returned, he realized he was not bound. He fought to rise from the cold cement floor. That was when he saw Meghan. Or what was left of her.

  Too weak to stand, he dragged himself to her nearly lifeless body. Even with his own weakness, he could hear the slight, uneven thrum of her heart.

  When he reached her, he sat back against the rough cinder block wall and somehow picked her up and held her close. “Meghan, baby. Can you hear me? It’s Blake.” She just lay limp in his arms. Her skin was as cold as ice and slightly damp with the sweat that said her body was failing.

  He couldn’t let her die. “Meghan,” he said again, more forcefully. “You need to feed.”

  Again there was no response. Blake cradled her tighter and sliced open one of his wrists with his nails. It would weaken him further to give some of his life
’s blood to her, but otherwise, he would lose her.

  Bright red drops welled along the slash he’d made and he brought his bleeding wrist to her mouth.

  At first there was no reaction as his blood oozed onto her lips and into her mouth. Patiently he continued to hold her, murmuring soft words of encouragement, until finally, her mouth closed over his wrist. Little by little the pull grew stronger. Her body warmed beside him. Because he, too, was weak, his body chilled with the power she took from him until he was almost too feeble to hold her.

  But by then she had roused and looked up at him, her eyes haunted as she fed until she realized he could no longer give any more. She eased away from him, her lips stained with his blood, and then she surprised him. She leaned close and kissed him, let him lick what was left of his offering from her lips.

  “Why?” she asked.

  Blake could barely move, debilitated by the experiments done on him and Meghan’s feeding. He struggled to focus. “Ah, love. Because I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

  He waited for Meghan’s usual tirade about how she hated him. How she wanted him dead for siring her. Instead she held him tight to her breasts, like she might cradle a baby. “Rest, Blake. We need our strength to survive this.”

  Then she kissed him again, or at least he thought she did as he released himself to the rest that would rebuild his strength.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea anymore, Peter,” Samantha said, her stance rigid as she stood in the doorway to the shelter.

  “Excuse me?” Was that animosity in her voice? He thought they had reached some kind of peace. During the time they’d spent together over the last few days, he’d sensed a change between them, a shift that said their relationship had become more personal.

  “It’s been almost a week now and there’s no sign of your suspect. It seems he’s turned his attention elsewhere and the women here are uneasy with a man around.”

  You mean you’re uneasy around me, he thought. After an initial cold shoulder from some of the women, they had warmed up to him. And the kids…How he loved playing with the kids first thing in the morning. He had even helped some of the older ones with last-minute homework.

  But she was right about one thing. The perp had probably left the neighborhood. Peter had tracked down every known hideout and acquaintance, but the searches had yielded nothing. Luckily a grand jury had thought there was enough evidence to issue an indictment. That didn’t end the case, but with an arrest warrant issued, he didn’t need to be at the shelter every day.

  “You may be right—”

  “I’m glad you see it that way. So if you’ll excuse me.” She began to close the door, but Peter grabbed it to keep it from shutting in his face.

  “The perp’s probably long gone and I certainly don’t want to upset anybody. So how about we go for breakfast around the corner?”

  There was a dismayed look on her face. “I-I-I don’t think you understood. I’d rather you not come by anymore.”

  So he did get to her. Good. But he wanted her to admit it. He cradled her cheek and was pleased when she didn’t pull away. For days he’d wondered what it would be like to touch her, to feel her creamy skin beneath his fingers. He wasn’t disappointed. She was as soft and smooth as she looked, even if a bit cold.

  “You can’t keep running, Samantha. Or hiding behind the women in the shelter.”

  “I’m not hiding.” She tightened her lips into a thin line of exasperation.

  “Aren’t you?” He slipped his thumb over her lips, needing to feel them, even if only like this.

  “Peter, please—”

  He didn’t give her a chance to finish. He brought his lips to hers and didn’t let up until her resistance faded and she finally kissed him back.

  A cough made him step away. Sofia stood behind Samantha, a broad smile on her face. She winked at him while addressing Samantha. “There’s a call for you. It’s Diego.”

  The satisfying flush of color on Samantha’s cheeks faded. “I need to take this call,” she said and hurried away.

  Sofia surprised him by saying, “Don’t worry. Diego’s never been around and as far as I know, she’s never made him beignets.”

  That brought a smile to his face. “Tell Samantha I’ll be back tonight.”

  “Will do, Detective. Be careful out there,” Sofia said, an earnest tone to her voice.

  “Why, Ms. Sofia. Might you actually be worried about me?”

  Sofia rolled her eyes and chuckled. As she shut the door in his face, she said, “I’m worried about what I will do to you if you hurt Samantha.”

  Peter turned on his heel and walked down the steps, almost whistling as he imagined coming back later that night and continuing where they had left off.

  With him kissing her.

  Diego was frantic.

  Although it had been nearly two weeks since Meghan’s disappearance and going on a week since Blake had likewise vanished, Diego had refused to believe Meghan would not return.

  And so he had convinced Esperanza to go with him to the Blood Bank last night. Annoyed that Diego continued to be concerned about the young vampire, Esperanza had refused to leave the booth with him when he went to search the club. Instead, she chose to remain there, pouting petulantly and sipping a glass of the Blood Bank’s finest.

  That was the last Diego had seen of her. He had returned to their lair—a posh apartment on New York’s Central Park West—thinking she’d tired of sitting alone. The entire night had gone by with no sign of his lover.

  “The sun grows stronger every minute, Samantha.”

  She stared out the window of the front parlor as she listened to Diego on the phone. “I know, Diego. Did she mention anything last night?”

  “Only that I seemed to care more for Meghan than I did for her, which is absurd. But you know how jealous Esperanza can be.”

  Samantha racked her brains, but could think of no other place where Esperanza would go besides the Artemis Shelter. The other vampires at the club—a company of a dozen or more—had little patience for others’ problems.

  And they clearly had a problem. First Meghan, then Blake and now Esperanza. Who would be next?

  “I’m going back to the club,” Diego said. “Someone has to have seen something.”

  “You’re thinking with your heart and not your head, Diego. You can’t go back.”

  “But—”

  “Whatever is going on is tied to the Blood Bank. Until we know what’s happening, it’s best to stay away from there.” Her mind raced as she imagined what someone could want with three vampires.

  Nothing good.

  There was a long silence on the telephone line followed by a harsh sigh. “What do I do in the meantime?”

  A good question. They had nothing to go on. It wasn’t like she was going to suddenly go Nancy Drew and start investigating.

  “We wait,” she said. When Diego protested she added, “Just a day or two. It will give us time to think about what’s happened. Try to get all the facts so that when we go back to the club, we won’t be sitting ducks, waiting to be taken as well.”

  As Samantha hung up, she wondered if it wasn’t time to ask someone to investigate. But as quickly as that thought came, she drove it away. There was no one who would help someone like her. Not even Peter despite his obvious interest in her. And her fascination with him.

  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget his kiss. That w
onderful hopeful first kiss. And last.

  Not even this situation with her missing friends could change the facts. She shouldn’t get involved with him for so many reasons. First, she was a vampire. Couples-to-be could deal with lots of differences but undead and mortal wasn’t a difference you could ignore or agree to disagree about.

  Second, as gentle as he’d been around the occupants of the shelter, she knew his capability for violence. He’d even killed in the line of duty.

  Violence was a part of her nature as much as it was a part of his, but she had resisted violence for many years. She would continue to do so. It wasn’t what she wanted in life. She wanted a peaceful existence. One without the complications of missing friends and a mortal man who made her want more than she could have. Such longing could only bring pain. A life with Peter was an impossibility because she didn’t have a life of her own to offer him.

  Chapter 11

  B lake woke to the sound of footsteps and something being dragged. Alerting Meghan, who had been asleep in his arms, he walked them back to the furthest corner of the cell. Out of reach of the cattle prod Mr. Mad Scientist occasionally used, but not beyond the range of the Taser. Still, their little rebellion was worth it to make the old man’s life difficult. He seemed to respect that kind of spunk, Blake had discovered. Now even Meghan was getting a little spirit, which was a relief. If they were to survive this, they had to be in it together. Him, Meghan—and now Esperanza.

  He hadn’t wanted to give up her name, but he hadn’t had much choice. At least not after the cut that had nearly split him open. Any more damage and he wouldn’t have been able to heal, even with a feeding from another vampire.

  Funny thing really, the truth about vampires compared to Hollywood myths and legends. It didn’t take a stake or decapitation. They didn’t burst into flame and ash at the very first rays of sunlight. Blake had even heard stories of a very old vampire who’d had his heart cut out, but survived long enough to get it back from the unsuspecting vampire slayer and eventually heal.