Pedro kicked the door in and entered carefully, reaching for the light switch. Before he could hit the lights, the gun was kicked from his hand. Blow after blow landed on his torso, and he crouched down. If there had been just two or three of them, he might have had a chance. A door slammed and then the lights were turned on. The punches stopped and eight men with yellow eyes surrounded him. Pedro’s gut clenched; their leader was an older version of Lucas Bennett, and he looked like one mean son of a bitch.
Fear and fury churned inside him, and he wanted to fight like a wild animal. But, he also knew there was no sense resisting them. He let them bind his hands behind him with duct tape. They covered his mouth with the same tape and then pushed him into a beat-up white delivery van.
Inside the dark van, surrounded by Hunters, Pedro’s pulse raced. His mind raced with fearful images, intensifying his fear. He struggled to remain rational by planning a strategy. He had to protect Andre’s plans for the wine. Should he admit he knew Andre and Kos were vampires or play dumb?
The van came to a stop and they pulled him out of its rear doors. They were at an isolated and run-down ranch house surrounded only by overgrown grass. No trees or buildings would offer hiding places, even if he could escape. Even the highway’s traffic seemed sparse, with no promise of rescue by a passerby. The Hunters pushed Pedro toward a large shed in the back and locked him in.
Chapter 15
ZOEY WAS TIPSY AND SLEEPY when she got back to Andre’s after dinner. She planned to head upstairs, but she lingered with her foot on the bottom step to watch Susan hold Ally’s hand as they went up the shadowed stairs. Sweet.
Next to her, a single light lit an oil painting on the wall and she found herself fingering the brass plate on its frame. Maras Nekretnine. The family estate in Croatia? A blond boy squatted in the foreground, drawing with a stick in the dirt. She could easily imagine it was Kos outside Kaštel as a boy. Whoever he was, she hoped he’d survived the ethnic wars that caused his family to flee their homeland.
“Damn it,” came a deep cry from the parlor, startling Zoey.
Someone else laughed—Andre?
Then everything fell silent. The house had been so still that she hadn’t noticed the parlor door ajar, a hint of golden light shining on the wooden floor of the hallway. She crept over and saw Andre, Kos, and Bel playing cards.
They all stared at their hands, not each other. Andre’s jaw jutted, and Kos had his arms crossed. It was no “dogs playing poker” kind of party. There was an atmosphere of tension, and something told Zoey that it wasn’t over who was winning.
Without turning his head, Andre said, “Are you coming in, Zoey?”
How had he known she was there? “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Not at all,” he said, looking up at her. God, he was sexy in a dark pair of jeans and a green shirt that mirrored the color of his eyes. They pulled her like a magnet, drawing her into the room.
On the table sat stacks of red, white, green, and blue chips. “Poker?” she asked.
“Five card draw,” Bel said.
The largest pile of chips on the table was in front of Andre, and next to his pile was a glass of wine. “You’re drinking,” she said. “Did you fall off the wagon?”
“He wasn’t on the wagon,” Kos said without looking up. He rapped his knuckles on the table, and Bel dealt more cards. They played with an easy rhythm that didn’t require them to talk.
“You all must play often.”
“Kos and I both suffer from insomnia—we keep each other company,” Andre said. “Call.”
Kos matched his bet and they threw down their hands.
“Shit,” Bel said. “Drunk as a skunk and you still take all my money.”
Andre smiled a crooked grin, and the gloom cleared from the room. “Things like this rarely change, Bel.” He stood up and wobbled on his feet. “Hello, Zoey.”
“You’re drunk,” she said.
“Just a little,” he said. His eyes narrowed, and he reached out and drew her to him. Turning her so that her back was against his chest, he sniffed at her hair. “You’re not entirely sober either.”
“So what,” she said. “I never said I don’t drink.”
He whispered in her ear. “Neither did I. You just assumed.”
“Would you like to join us?” Kos asked.
“Let me get you a glass of wine,” Bel said quickly, seconding Kos’s invitation.
The glass was in her hand before she could refuse, so she just said, “Thank you.” She took a sip of the wine. It was by far the best thing she’d tasted that day. She took a small step away from Andre to set her glass down on the table.
“Do you play poker?” Kos asked.
“I can play.”
“Great. I’ll deal you in,” Bel said. He placed four piles of cards in a circle around the table.
Again she wasn’t fast enough to refuse, even if she had wanted to. Either she was the distraction they’d been waiting for, or they wanted to torment Andre with her presence. He remained quiet as his sons drew her into their game. Did he want her there?
There were only three chairs around the table, and she wasn’t sure where to sit. She swallowed a hiccup, hoping none of them heard it.
Jumping up, Kos said, “I’ll get another chair.”
“She’ll sit with me.” Andre pulled her onto his lap in one quick motion.
For the briefest second, she resisted him. He was her client. She didn’t flirt. She fucked and moved on. But heat flared where their bodies touched, and melted away her misgivings.
Ethan would probably fall over if he saw her sitting on someone’s lap; Andre brought out a completely different side of her. Justine had told her to have some fun, and it seemed like, for once, she might, thanks to a day of wine and an irresistibly hot client.
Zoey settled on his lap as well as she could, given her feet didn’t touch the floor, and picked up her cards. Turning over her shoulder, she said, “You can see my hand.”
He compared her cards to his own. “Play mine.” He passed them to her, and she had to flex her toes to keep steady. He placed one of his hands on each of her hips. She wriggled a little to find her balance and felt him harden between her cheeks.
He wanted her to concentrate on playing cards with that magnificent thing underneath her? Fine. She was up to the challenge.
His hand was only marginally better than hers; he had a pair of threes. In the corner of her eye, Andre tilted his head toward his chips—an invitation to bet them freely.
“I’ll raise,” she said. “A green. What’s this worth, anyway?”
“That one is worth one hundred dollars,” Andre replied.
Zoey sputtered. “You guys don’t mess around.” She tapped the table with the edge of the chip reluctantly, then pressed it down onto the table with her thumb, saying, “One hundred of Andre’s money it is.”
Watching her with narrowed eyes, Kos said, “I fold.” He swung his head to look at this brother with equal interest.
“I’ll raise you two more green ones,” Bel said, trilling the last words and throwing in three of his own chips. Was he mocking her?
“Call,” Zoey said, quicker than she meant to. Bel’s head jerked up, and his eyes also sharpened on her. Now she had his attention. Tossing in the two chips she owed, she discarded three cards and he wordlessly dealt them both more. Nothing but a jack high to go with her threes.
A muscle pulsed in Bel’s jaw. He could have been Andre’s identical twin, but his torn black jeans and Converse sneakers made him look younger. Still, a tell was a tell.
Holding up a chip and cocking her head, she asked, “I suppose this black one is worth five hundred?”
“It is,” he replied, crossing his arms. “And it hardly matters to you, since it’s Andre’s money.”
“Oh, it matters to me. I don’t like to lose.” She threw two into the pile.
Andre’s breath tickled her ear when he whispered, “Are you a cardsharp?”<
br />
She shrugged and tried to keep a smile from her lips.
As Bel watched her, rubbing a thousand dollars’ worth of black chips together between his fingers, Andre wrapped his large hands around her hips. He worked his thumbs up under the bottom edge of her blouse and rubbed featherlight circles on her lower back. Damn. Her heart raced, and it wasn’t because of the bluff.
“Well?” she asked Bel.
“I fold.”
Triumphant, she clapped her hands together and scooped up her winnings. Kos dealt another hand as Andre dipped his thumb into the gaping waistband and lightly teased the very top of the crevice between her cheeks.
She did her best to concentrate on the next game, ignoring his sexy strokes along her back. But when he twitched and grew bigger underneath her, she gave up. Between her legs, she went damp and the heavy throbbing became insistent.
Suddenly, Kos sniffed and then coughed like he couldn’t clear his throat. He turned bright red.
“Kos, are you okay?” she asked, making to stand up. Andre held her in place.
Kos caught his breath just as suddenly and stood. “I’m ready to call it a night. Bel, let’s go back to my place.”
Bel seemed a little surprised, but when he looked at Kos he didn’t argue.
Andre looked at him. “Everything’s set with your—”
“I’ve got it under control,” Bel replied.
When the door closed behind them Andre said in her ear, “Don’t move.”
“Is everything all right?”
The pads of his fingers pressed into her belly ever so slightly, the only sign he was worried about something. “Perfectly fine. Bel is taking care of something for me. Let’s not talk about it anymore.”
He lifted her hair off her neck and licked up her spine from the collar of her shirt to her hairline.
She shivered.
“Mmmm, I’ve been wanting to do that since you sat down. Turn around so I can see you.” She stood and faced him and he reached for her again, pulling her back down to straddle him. “You smell delicious.”
What did he smell? She didn’t wear perfume and surely the scent of her soap and shampoo had faded over the long day. It didn’t matter, really. The way he said it, all gravelly and low, was the best part of the compliment.
He cupped the back of her head and drew her into a gentle kiss. She wanted to kiss him back, but her lips simply would not open up to him.
“Zoey, about this morning—”
“Susan explained everything to me.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me about your medical condition.”
“Ah. What about it?”
“That Ally and several of your staff are trained to help you.” When he looked irritated, Zoey hurried to defend her new friend. “She didn’t violate your privacy. She wouldn’t tell me more and insisted I ask you myself.” His furrowed brow relaxed with relief. Some people might find his frown menacing, but not her. She smoothed the triangle between his eyes with her thumb, noticing the small lines lingering there even when he relaxed.
He brought out the strangest combination of tenderness and raw sexual desire in her. The tenderness she hadn’t felt since Michael had died, the desire she was certain she had never felt so intensely. She should be scared to death about both of those, but at the moment, she just wanted to be with him.
Had she just smoothed away his worry lines? The scent of her arousal hung thick in the air; he would find her slick with wanting if he could finally get her naked. Yet she touched his face with a kindness he hadn’t known since long before Mila died.
Her lips pursed into a subtle O—she’d surprised herself with the unconscious gesture.
Until that moment, he hadn’t truly considered why she might have walked away from him the night they met. She must have her own reasons to remain distant. Was she fighting this attraction too?
Given how closely they sat, pressing their excited bodies together like teenagers, her resistance must be almost as weak as his.
He licked her neck again, this time from her collarbone up the length of her carotid artery. Her heartbeat was muffled, the metallic scent of her blood mixing with the delicious musk coming from between her legs. He was hungry instantly. He wanted to lick that wetness between her legs and taste it on his tongue mixing with her blood. He wanted to slip his fingers—
“Will you tell me about your condition?” she asked.
“No…”
She didn’t look away.
“But I must tell you it makes it impossible for me to be with a woman.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she said, and rocked against him.
The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through him, leaving no room to doubt that he was in perfect working order. “No. That’s not what I mean.”
Curiosity replaced skepticism on her face.
“Because of the burden of my…condition, I decided a long time ago that I will not get involved with a woman. I tried once and it caused both of us great suffering.”
Without warning, she stood and crossed to the bar. After filling a glass of water from the tap, she faced him again and took a small sip. Tilting her head, she opened her mouth, then closed it again. He scooted to the edge of his chair, trying to hear the words she wasn’t saying.
Finally, she opened her mouth again to ask, “So no getting close to anyone?”
“Exactly.”
She took another sip from her glass. “I have the same rule.”
He had guessed as much. “That’s a shame, Zoey. A beautiful, intelligent woman like you should have a husband and family. These are the things that matter in life. Without Kos and Bel, I’d have nothing.”
Her lips pursed, and her eyes flicked to the door like she wanted to run. He would have chased her, but she stayed. Her chest rose and fell in unnaturally even breaths. She looked at him with her bottomless brown eyes, and he sucked in a gulp of air, wanting to know what that hurt was.
She turned her back to him and filled her already full glass. “I had those things once. They don’t always last, and the pain of losing them…” Her glass clanked heavily on the stone bar. “I’m not willing to go through it again.”
Her words could have been his own. Was this their mysterious connection? If so, it was the easiest way out of the dangerous temptation. Neither of them wanted to try again. He should send her to bed and be done with it: no more fantasies, no more licking.
He could not do it, though. He wanted to know too much. Moving faster than he should have, he went to her side. He leaned his back against the bar, and could see the side of her face as she stared at the wall.
“You were married?” he asked.
Angling her shoulders toward him, she rested one curvy hip against the bar and wrapped her arms around herself. “Is this a good idea? Talking about all this?”
“I sincerely doubt it.” Silently, he willed her to tell him her tragedy. He had to know what had damaged her.
She replied with a squeak of a laugh. “Well, since we’re being honest. Yes, I was married.”
“Did you divorce?”
“No. I’m a widow.” She paused, then her words spilled out all at once. “It feels weird to say that. I never tell anyone and I never use that word. I never even think it.”
Wine crept back up his throat. Widow? He schooled his face, making certain that nothing about his expression showed the fear and anxiety churning inside him. Whatever was happening between them felt out his control.
Despite his best efforts to conceal his feelings, Zoey’s quizzical expression told him she saw something that she wondered about. Before she could voice a question, he asked another.
“When did he die?”
“Seven years ago.”
“How?”
Zoey averted her eyes and wrung her hands. He waited. Finally, she spoke. “He jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“Davo,” Andre said. A lump the size of a grapefruit had formed in
his throat. Two survivors of their spouses’ suicides. It explained the recognition that had passed between them.
“Michael and I met in college and fell in love. We married after graduation. He was…”
How would he describe Mila? Even dead, she couldn’t be encapsulated in a few adjectives.
Far more articulate than him, Zoey found the right words. “He was everything to me. But even before we married, he began to change. He developed schizophrenia. Turns out it ran in his family. He was paranoid, depressed. Medication helped his symptoms but made him feel terrible.” She paused, as if she needed his permission to continue baring her soul.
Andre nodded and she went on.
Her face was perfectly placid, like she wore a mask. “He was miserable and not the man I’d loved.” Her hands fell to her sides limply. “When he ended his life, I was relieved. I’d lost him already and I was happy that his suffering was over.”
“You are very understanding,” Andre said. How she managed it was beyond him. He was still furious at Mila for killing herself. “Weren’t you angry?”
“I’m still angry, even though I know he wasn’t in control of himself.”
Her impassive face was inches from his. Where was her anger? It wasn’t in her eyes, or the set of her mouth.
“He was strong and generous and he treated me like a queen. I trusted him completely. When someone you trust goes off the deep end—” She slapped her palms against her thighs.
He wished he could take away all her pain, let her love someone again. Not him, of course, but someone. “So no real connection to anyone, just sex? That’s why you were in the bar that night?”
Then she peered at him and replied with a confession. “I’ve been sleeping with Ethan Bennett and I can’t figure out how to end it.”
Seconds too late, Andre tried to feign surprise.
Her eyes narrowed. “You knew. How?”
He looked away. “It was just a guess. When I hired his firm, he spoke very fondly of you.”
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