Samson's Lovely Mortal

by Tina Folsom

  Thomas had always been the jealous type. Having become a vampire hadn’t changed that. He’d realized his trait over a hundred years ago. Becoming a vampire didn’t change your character, it just amplified it. A bad man would be a bad vampire, and a good man would be a good vampire. It was as simple as that.

  He didn’t regret the choice he’d made when he’d been confronted with it over a century ago, for it finally allowed him to live in an era where he didn’t have to hide his sexuality, and for that he was grateful. In the time in which he’d grown up, men whose homosexuality was discovered were flogged or even killed. Not that he didn’t enjoy a good flogging from time to time as long as it was followed by an even better fuck, but that was another matter altogether. Life was better in the twenty-first century.

  He eyed his lover from the side. Milo’s features seemed delicate even though as a vampire he was nearly indestructible. There was no ounce of fat on his body, and despite his small size he was strong. And incredibly sexy. Glancing at his firm ass, Thomas’ leather pants tightened. Whenever he looked at Milo, he got horny.

  “Let’s have a look at that jerk,” Samson’s voice boomed through the warehouse.

  His coattails flying, Ricky by his side, Samson strode in and marched straight for the captive, planting himself squarely in front of him. The master had arrived, looking every inch the avenging dark angel he could turn into when provoked.

  Samson planned on intimidating the thug. It would cut down on the time it took to get all pertinent information out of him. He rarely used torture and found that the suggestion of pain often worked better than pain itself.

  “Recognize me?” he asked in a quiet but dangerous voice when he stood in front of the bound man.

  A silent nod was the response. “Good. What’s your name?”

  “Billy.”

  “Good, Billy. Now that we’re on first name terms, let’s have a chat. I don’t take it lightly to being attacked, but, you know, that comes with the territory, and that’s something I can forgive. I can defend myself. But you know what really pisses me off?”

  Samson looked at him, daring Billy to answer. The man was smart enough not to open his mouth at the rhetorical question.

  “When my woman gets attacked, I have no mercy. Do you understand?” He bent down to Billy, his voice almost a growl. Frightened eyes looked at him. Billy’s body started trembling.

  “You’ve put me in a difficult situation, Billy. A man has to protect those he loves no matter what. So, what am I going to do with you?” He tilted his head and flashed his fangs. Samson hadn’t bit anybody in years, but his fangs were nevertheless in pristine condition—floss and toothpaste went a long way when it came to dental hygiene for a vampire.

  Billy shrieked. “I didn’t want to do it.”

  This was far too easy. The man was clearly not quite the professional criminal Samson had thought him to be.

  “But you did. And now you’re going to explain to me and my friends here why you were after my woman. This is a small town, but to be attacked by the same guy twice, that’s not a coincidence. We both know that.”

  He let another snarl rip through his clenched jaw and moved his head closer to Billy. He could smell the scent of fear on him—a stench he abhorred.

  “I was paid to do it.”

  Samson straightened. “By whom?”

  For a fraction of a second he wondered if Delilah had set all of it up herself. It could have been a ploy to gain his confidence, to sneak into his home and his heart. It would make sense. It would have given her a pretense to gain access to him, awaken his instinct as a protector and then seduce him thoroughly. God, she had seduced him alright, with everything she had: her voice, her body, her touch, her kisses … her laughter. He had to know the truth, as much as it would pain him to hear the answer.

  “Who paid you?”

  “My brother-in-law. He wanted her out of the way,” Billy suddenly blurted out.

  Relief flooded through Samson. It hadn’t been her, thank God. “What’s his name?”

  “John.”

  Billy started shaking.

  “I need a little bit more than that, if you don’t mind.”

  “John Reardon.” The name had a familiar ring to it, but Samson couldn’t place it.

  “And where does he live, this John Reardon?”

  Billy gave an address in the Sunset district.

  “Why does he want her out of the way?” Samson continued with his questioning. He noticed a sudden widening of Billy’s pupils.

  “I d—d—don’t know.” Where did the stutter suddenly come from? At the same time he observed a trembling in the man’s legs which travelled up his torso.

  Samson searched his eyes. “You’re lying.”

  Billy shook like a leaf, then his eyes started drifting. “Stop!” he screamed. “Make it stop!” His hands balled into fists as he tried to raise them, but came up against the restraints. “No!” A second later his head rolled forward. He’d passed out.

  Samson spun around to his friends. “Did any of you do that?” He’d be pissed if someone had used mind control to scare Billy before he could get all necessary information out of him.

  Milo and Thomas both lifted their hands in confusion, while Ricky shook his head.

  “Scan the vicinity to make sure no other vampires are here and are interfering.” Samson looked back at Thomas and Milo. “Then go out to the Sunset and pick up this John Reardon. This one stays here until we’ve got his brother-in-law. Make sure he stays here; I haven’t decided yet what to do with him. Call me when you have his brother-in-law: I want to talk to him personally.”

  “I’m outta here. I’ve things to do,” Milo protested.

  Samson raised an eyebrow, but let it go. Milo didn’t work for him. “Ricky, you go with Thomas. I’ll take your car back to the house.”

  Ricky threw the keys in Samson’s direction, and he caught them without even looking. As soon as he was in Ricky’s car and switched on the engine, he saw Milo exit the building. His cell phone pressed to his ear, he headed for his motorcycle.

  ELEVEN

  “You said ‘Clay Hall’?” Amaury looked at Carl with surprise. They stood facing each other across the kitchen island.

  “Yes, down near Taylor, it’s a large condo building. I picked up all her stuff. She didn’t have much, just some clothes, her computer, and those files.”

  “That’s a strange coincidence,” Amaury mumbled, talking to himself. He didn’t believe in things happening at random.

  “What coincidence?”

  “You don’t know, do you?”

  Carl shook his head, confused. “Know what?”

  “That Scanguards owns a couple of condos in Clay Hall. I should know. I bought them for the company.”

  Amaury’s main job working for Samson was to take care of all his real estate investments, both his private ones as well as the company’s. He held a real estate license in California and acted as his own broker. Luckily, the medieval rumor that vampires had to be invited into a home was entirely unfounded, which made it possible for a vampire to work as a real estate agent.

  “It doesn’t have to mean anything. She said she’s from New York and on a business trip.”

  “This’ll be easy to check. What was the unit number?”

  Carl stared blankly. “Well, it was high up.” It looked like he was trying to remember walking down the corridor of the floor he’d been on and finding the right door. “Eight Twelve.”

  “Voilà. It’s ours. The only way she could have access to that condo is if she worked for us. Samson said Oliver was with her all day.”

  Carl nodded in agreement.

  “Get him on the phone. Let’s see where he took her.”

  Carl punched in Oliver’s number, then put the phone on speaker mode. “Hey Oliver, it’s me.”

  “Carl, this better be important. I’m dead tired,” Oliver’s sleepy voice came through the phone. Amaury glanced at the clock on the o
ven. It was barely past nine o’clock. He shook his head in disbelief. Humans!

  “Hey Oliver, Amaury here. Sorry about the disturbance. Hope we didn’t wake you.”

  “No problem, Amaury.” It sounded like Oliver straightened up. “What can I do for you?”

  “You were with Delilah all day?”

  “Yes; Mr. Woodford asked me to protect her.”

  “Where did you take her?”

  “Downtown, to Scanguards’ offices.”

  Carl and Amaury looked at each other. Amaury whistled through his teeth. “You wouldn’t happen to know what she did there, would you?”

  “She worked.”

  “She worked?”

  “Yes, she worked. She’s some sort of, I don’t know, accountant or auditor, or something like that, I think.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. They knew her and were expecting her. Even had a computer set up for her and all.”

  “Thanks, Oliver.”

  Amaury hung up. “I guess that’s good news. Still one hell of a coincidence, but at least it doesn’t look like she’s a corporate spy.”

  “Still doesn’t explain why she’s here with him,” Carl interjected. Amaury could feel Carl’s emotions—the man was protective of his boss and didn’t want him to get hurt again, least of all by a woman. “Do you think she knows who he is?”

  Before Amaury could answer, the door to the kitchen opened and Samson waltzed in.

  “Who’re talking about?” he asked.

  “You,” Amaury answered. “We were wondering whether Delilah knows who you are.”

  “I wish I knew.” It was the truth. It would make him feel a lot better if he knew what she knew about him. Whether it was his money she was after, or whether she was truly here for him. Without an ulterior motive. “Where is she?”

  Amaury tipped his head toward the upper floor. “She came down earlier, grabbed a yogurt, and went back upstairs.” He paused. “Well, at least we know now who she is.”

  Expectantly, Samson looked at this friend.

  “She’s some sort of accounting person for Scanguards.”

  Samson took a step back. He hadn’t expected this. “She works for me?” He was sleeping with one of his employees? Great, at the very least he was setting himself up for a sexual harassment suit.

  “Looks like it. Oliver spent the entire day with her at Scanguards’ offices downtown, and the condo you picked her up from—it’s one of ours.”

  Samson rubbed his forehead with his palm. “Then it’s true. She told me last night she’s an auditor.”

  Amaury grinned. “You guys had time to talk?”

  His friend was one to talk! Samson’s disapproving look stopped Amaury cold from making any further insinuations. His old friend made it sound like he was a sex-maniac. Of course they had talked, joked actually, teased and laughed, even after Carl had delivered the supply of condoms. As if all he did to entertain a woman was having sex with her!

  “She said she’s from New York and here on an audit. Have you checked everything out?”

  “Not yet, we just only reached our conclusion when you came in.”

  “Carl, get Gabriel Giles on the phone.”

  Gabriel was Director of Operations at the head office in New York, and since he was a vampire he’d be reachable, even if it was shortly past midnight on the East Coast.

  “You’d better be right.” Samson looked at Amaury, a glimmer of hope sprouting in his chest.

  Gabriel’s voice bellowed through the speaker a few seconds later. “Hey Samson, how you doing?” He sounded more like a Tony Soprano than a vampire. New York could do that to anybody.

  “Good to hear your voice, Gabriel. Listen, I don’t want to keep you, but I need you to check something out for me. Did you guys send an auditor down to the San Fran office?”

  “Let me check.” He could be heard typing something on a keyboard. “Sure did. Assignment started Monday. What about it?”

  “What’s the auditor’s name?”

  “Delilah Sheridan.”

  Delilah stopped cold behind the kitchen door she was just about to open when she heard her name coming from a speaker phone. She held her breath. Why were they talking about her?

  “Did you do a background check on her?” It was Samson’s voice she heard. A background check? On her? What was he trying to find? She held her breath, not wanting to give away that she was on the other side of the door.

  “Sure did,” the other voice responded. “She’s clean. Nothing unusual. Single, no siblings, father is in a home, mother died two years ago. What do you want to know?”

  “Does she know who I am?” Samson’s voice sounded strangely strained.

  While she heard the question, she didn’t understand what he meant by it.

  “Doubt it,” the voice shot back. “We certainly didn’t give her any more information than we needed to. You know our policy better than anybody. And since everything is owned by the trust, she couldn’t have seen your name in any of the documents.”

  What documents? What the hell was the man talking about?

  She’d heard enough. Samson was checking up on her, for whatever reason. She felt violated. Angrily she pushed the door to the kitchen open. Three sets of eyes instantly landed on her. Three surprised sets of eyes: Samson’s, Amaury’s, and Carl’s. They had all ganged up on her.

  “Anything else?” the voice from the speaker continued.

  “Thanks, Gabriel.” Samson didn’t take his eyes off her as he disconnected the call.

  Delilah glared at him, unable to speak for a few seconds. None of the guys dared say a word as if waiting for an outburst. She’d give them one.

  “You had a background check done on me?” She tried to make her voice sound even in order not to show the pain she felt.

  “Delilah, I’m sorry, I can explain.” Samson didn’t even bother denying her accusation. That confirmed it.

  She shook her head. “I’ll save you the trouble. I’m leaving.” She spun on her heels and stormed out. Taking two stairs at a time, she headed to the second floor. Tears burned in her eyes, but she pushed them back. He wasn’t worth it. If he wanted to know something about her, he could have asked her. She would have told him everything, every little detail about her life.

  But he hadn’t asked. Instead he’d checked up on her behind her back as if she was a criminal. After the wonderful night of passion they’d shared, he had felt the need to check up on her? What had he thought he would find?

  ***

  After locking Billy up in one of the containers, but leaving him with water and a blanket, Ricky and Thomas left the warehouse. They weren’t savages. If Samson could treat the man who had attacked him and Delilah with civility, so could they.

  “Did you catch what Samson said about her?” Ricky asked.

  “You mean the speech about my woman?”

  “Exactly. Do you think he meant it?”

  Thomas shrugged his shoulders. “You tell me. When it comes to you straight guys, I really can’t tell when you’re into somebody or not. Too much hiding your feelings and crap.”

  “Trust me, I can’t tell any more than you can. But I’ve never heard him talk like that. I hope she isn’t getting under his skin. Something like this can only end badly.”

  Ricky took the helmet Thomas handed him and swung his leg over the motorcycle to take his place behind him.

  “He should have left me my car and taken your motorcycle instead of us cramming onto it.”

  “What, you’re worried because you have to hold onto me?” Thomas laughed. “Since when so homophobic?”

  “I’m not; I’m worried about my car. He was ready to kill me today. I hope he’s not taking it out on my brand-new ride.”

  Thomas jerked his head. “Kill you? What did you do to him?”

  “I walked in on him while he was shagging Delilah in the shower.”

  “You can’t be serious. That’s why he wanted to kill you?” T
homas’ reaction was not unusual. Among their kind, sex wasn’t necessarily always seen as a private act, unless it happened between a bonded pair. So there was no reason why Samson should get all bent out of shape about being seen fucking Delilah.

  “That’s what I’m saying. He basically told me to kiss our friendship and my job goodbye if he ever saw me looking at her again.”

  “Sounds pretty possessive to me.”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh boy.”

  Ricky slung his arms around Thomas’ waist, and the motorcycle took off. It was still drizzling lightly. Thomas expertly guided them through light traffic. He knew the city like his back pocket and had a keen eye for spotting obstacles in advance, helping him avoid major delays easily.

  They drove toward the Sunset district past the forties and fifties era homes, the often unkempt front yards, and the ticky-tacky shops on the way. It wasn’t a neighborhood either one of them liked particularly. It was mostly flat and architecturally uninteresting.

  The address Billy had given them was a corner home, which looked larger than others on the block and appeared to have been completely renovated. It stuck out like the most expensive house on the block. There was light coming from several of the windows of the home.

  Thomas parked his motorcycle around the corner.

  “How do you want to play it?”

  “Straightforward. We ring the doorbell,” Ricky replied.

  Their footsteps made virtually no sound as they walked on the pavement. Thomas’ nostrils flared as they approached the house. He inhaled. A strangely familiar scent wafted into his nose, but he was distracted instantly when he heard a scream from inside the house.

  He and Ricky stared at each other for a fraction of a second then ran to the front door and kicked it in.