by Jenna Barwin
“I’m still impressed you know about Surat. My home was between the city’s original inner wall and the later-built outer wall. Of course, neither protected my city from the British invaders.”
Oops. She should have omitted that last part. It was never good to mix politics with business.
“What brought you to the United States?” he asked smoothly.
“Medical school.”
He raised one eyebrow. “It was in South America you learned Spanish?”
“Yes, initially.”
“That’s strange.” He sounded puzzled, his eyebrows knitted together. “By your accent, I would swear you were from my home village.”
“Just a coincidence.” From the look on his face, he didn’t believe her.
“We should resume speaking in English,” he said. “Karen doesn’t speak Spanish.”
“Agreed,” Cerissa said, switching to English.
Henry turned to Karen. “When I first spoke with Dr. Patel, it was under strained circumstances.” He nodded in Cerissa’s direction. “I would suggest a fresh start, if you are willing.”
“Of course, Señor Bautista, but please, call me Cerissa.”
“And you may call me Henry.”
She motioned toward the horses. “Are you riding with us tonight, Henry?”
“Indeed. It’s been a while since I rode our properties’ perimeter. It will be a good opportunity to ensure all is well.”
Interesting. He was being much nicer than the first time, but he could be acting. Vampires turned on the charm when it served their purposes. Well, two could play at that game. She refused to flirt with Zeke; it would only encourage him. But Henry—he’d shown no interest in her before. Being charming in her own way wouldn’t hurt.
Before she could say anything further, Rolf walked up, leading two horses. Henry accepted the reins to the palomino and then walked the horse a short distance away. The short-sleeve shirt he wore showed off his well-built chest and trim waist as he adjusted the saddle strap. Judging from his nicely developed arm muscles, he wasn’t a stranger to hard work when he died—few people in the early 1800s worked out lifting weights.
“Cerissa, this one is for you.” Rolf handed her reins to a beautiful chestnut mare with a white blaze on her forehead. “You have ridden before, yes?”
“I have.”
“Good. She is generally a well-behaved horse, but sometimes spirited. Handle the reins firmly and you should be fine.”
“What’s her name?”
“I don’t name my horses.”
“I call her Candy,” Karen piped up defiantly, “because she’s so sweet.”
Cerissa tensed, expecting Rolf to bristle at the comment. He didn’t. He ignored Karen and went back to the corral, with Henry following him, riding the palomino.
She spent a moment greeting Candy, running her hand across the mare’s forehead and sensing a basically happy animal. Eager to run, not liking the corral, not liking Rolf. She hoped there would be an opportunity to let Candy run. The horse nickered and nuzzled into her shoulder, as if reading her mind.
“Howdy, Cerissa,” Zeke said, leading two more horses out of the corral. Turning to Karen, he asked, “You riding this filly?”
Karen took the reins from him. “Yes, Ginny’s my horse. Thanks.”
“Then this one must be for Frédéric. Hey, Frédéric,” he called out. “Got yer horse here.”
The council member joined them and accepted the reins from Zeke. “Dr. Patel? I’m Frédéric Bonhomme,” he said, speaking to her from across the back of his horse. “How are you doing with your search for investors?”
“We’re still early in the process. I’d be happy to send you a prospectus.”
“I can’t invest in it.” He smoothed his long, thin mustache with two fingers, almost twirling the ends. “Leopold’s project will have to come before the town council for approval—wouldn’t be prudent to vote on a project I invested in.”
“I understand,” she said, forcing a smile. “Perhaps you’d like to see a prospectus, just to have additional background before you vote on it.”
“Not necessary. Rolf has told me all about it. I’m not sure it’s a good idea, having an unmated mortal on the Hill. We’ll have to see.” He mounted his horse and started it trotting in the direction of the dirt road.
Her stomach clenched. Let him go. Can’t press too hard, not yet, it’ll just cement his opposition. She preferred a unanimous vote of the council, but she’d settle for a majority. Liza liked her. That left the mayor and Carolyn, the fifth council member. And the founders. Can’t forget the founders. She took a deep breath. She could do this—she had the entire ride to get Henry on her side.
She slid her small purse into a saddlebag, and then grabbed the horn of the western-style saddle, stepping into the stirrup and swinging up onto Candy’s back.
Karen pulled up next to her on Ginny, and leaned over to whisper, “Don’t let Frédéric get to you. He and Rolf have some odd ideas, but you’re going to like the Hill. Give them time; you’ll find investors.”
Karen took off in the same direction Frédéric rode. Guessing Candy had been western trained, she held the reins lightly in one hand, and applied right leg pressure to turn left. It worked. She followed Karen’s horse, directing Candy to the dirt trail, which ran along the edge of Rolf’s vineyard.
The North Star was now at her back. Why did it feel like she was going the wrong way? She glanced over her shoulder to see it, wanting to turn around and follow the star instead. Henry rode out of the corral next to Rolf, talking about something. Was she the topic of conversation? She tried to ignore the strange feeling that gave her. No need to be paranoid.
She turned back to the trail. Floodlights from the vineyard lit the way. She faced a low mountain range, its rounded peaks forming the shape of a potbellied giant asleep on his back underneath the night sky, with the taller, jagged mountains hovering over it. Off to her right, clusters of scrub brush and oak trees studded the buffer zone between Rolf’s property and the next vineyard to the west. The floodlights didn’t penetrate the dense oak forest, which remained masked by dark shadows.
Cicadas and tree toads clicked and chirped, their song stopping when her horse walked near their hiding places. She took a deep breath of the night air and was rewarded with the vineyard’s musty-sweet scent.
Rolf passed her and joined up with Karen. The two urged their horses on to take the lead, with Frédéric near them, followed by the chief and Captain Johnson. Henry’s horse trotted up, and he slowed it to keep pace with hers, riding between her and the vineyard. Good. Now she’d have a chance to bring him over to her side.
“I’m impressed by your knowledge of Spanish,” he said.
“I learned Spanish as a child. It makes speaking it like a native much easier.”
“You speak it excellently. Do you know other languages?”
“A few,” she said, and glanced around at the sound of another horse approaching.
Zeke caught up with them, sandwiching her between the two vampires. He tipped his cowboy hat at her in greeting, and she nodded in return. He exuded a boyish charm, his smile showing off his cheek dimples. She glanced back over at Henry. Where Zeke was boyish, Henry was handsome in a more masculine way. Why was that more attractive? His dark eyes looked at her intensely, even when he smiled, and his strong brow line gave his deep-set eyes more power. His lips were full, enough to be kissable, with a perfect bow in the upper lip.
What would it be like to be in bed with him?
She gave herself a mental shake. Time to get my mind out of the gutter. She didn’t want to be emotionally close to anyone, let alone a vampire. She kept too many secrets to let anyone past her shields. So what’s ramping up my reaction to Henry? It didn’t matter in the end. The Hill’s rules allowed no casual fun, not while she was there on business. She had to stay focused. Although a little flirting wouldn’t hurt…
“Do you ever go back to Veracruz?” s
he asked Henry, trying to get the conversation started again.
“How do you know I’m from Veracruz and not Spain or South America?”
“Karen told me about you.”
“Not all bad, I hope.”
“She tells me you make excellent wines from the grapes you and Rolf grow.”
“I try,” he said, with a formal nod of acknowledgement, sitting straight in the saddle. “It turns out being a vampire has given me an excellent nose for winemaking.”
“In that case, I’ll have to try one of your wines myself.”
“I’ll send a bottle to Gaea’s for you.”
“Thank you, you’re very kind.” She smiled at him, trying to hold his gaze. “And it was kind of Rolf to loan us his horses for the ride.”
“Four of the horses are jointly owned by Rolf and me. It is easier to keep them in one place, so we built the stable and corral on Rolf’s land. Zeke brought the other horses from his ranch.”
“Then I should also thank—”
“Oh Henry,” Blanche called out from behind them. “I’m glad to see ya here.”
Blanche rode up on the other side of Henry’s horse, crowding them on the trail, her stirrup almost touching his. She had a bright smile on her face.
Grrr. Not Blanche again. Cerissa wanted to rip the smile off her rival’s face. I was just making progress with Henry. Why did the blonde vampire keep creating problems for her?
“Maybe we can hang out after the ride,” Blanche said, her hand brushing Henry’s arm. “I could answer any questions you have about my proposal.”
“That’s not necessary. After the ride, Rolf and I plan to discuss your idea.”
“Well, if you or Rolf have any questions, just call. I can come to your place and we can talk.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
“I will keep that in mind.”
“I hope to hear from you soon.” She wet her lips and smiled before urging her horse forward to join Frédéric.
Cerissa stuffed down her irritation. The way Blanche flirted with Henry made her look desperate. Hmm. Maybe my idea of flirting with him is a bad one.
Henry turned back to her. “And your project for Leopold, tell me about it.”
“Once we have sufficient investors,” she said, trying for a more businesslike tone, “we plan on buying a large property for a research lab. We’re considering Mordida, but would prefer Sierra Escondida. We’d have to apply to the town council for a zone change to permit manufacturing in the business district.”
“You’ll need Rolf’s support for your project.”
“And the rest of the town council, too. It’ll mean increased income for the town from the lab’s business tax.”
Zeke touched her shoulder. “Not every vampire is going to want a mate who works.”
She looked over at him, frowning. When was he going to get the message she wasn’t interested?
“You presume I’m looking for a vampire mate,” she replied, perhaps a little too briskly.
“Can’t live on the Hill without it,” Zeke said. “Now me, I don’t see nothin’ wrong with what you’re proposing, having a business in town, but not everyone on the Hill is as understanding.”
Zeke gave Henry a significant look. What did that mean? Had Henry already decided against her project?
“It’s gonna take you a while to set up a new lab,” Zeke added.
“That’s true.”
“You gonna stay with Gaea the whole time?”
“We haven’t discussed it yet. But I could always get a place in one of the nearby—”
Zeke suddenly reined back on his horse. “None of that,” he said to the horse.
She brought Candy to a halt and turned to see what had happened. Zeke’s horse was trying to nibble on a wildflower growing near the trail—purple trumpetlike blossoms jutted out from the greenish-gray stalk.
“Darn thing has a taste for locoweed.” He held the reins taut to keep the horse from dipping down again. She gently nudged Candy with her heels to catch up with Henry, who was a few paces ahead of them.
“Sorry to interrupt ya,” Zeke said, riding up beside her and Henry. “But you know, Cerissa, I’ve been thinking about what you told me at the dance. If you don’t mind me saying so, it seems kind of strange to pick our backwoods community—not to mention, a lot of effort on your part. Wouldn’t New York be better?”
She couldn’t tell him Leopold had insisted on the Hill. “I prefer living in the country over city living. There’s a lot more freedom. For one, it’s not easy to keep a horse in Manhattan.”
All true, and she patted Candy’s neck to emphasize her point.
Zeke shook his head. “Well, I just don’t think the council will let you live in Mordida. They’re mighty particular about that sort of thing. It’d be much easier if you had a mate on the Hill.”
“Love is the only reason to mate,” Henry said sternly. “And not to gain residency here.”
She turned to him and widened her eyes. Henry’s a romantic? Really?
They were in a low-lit area between floodlights, the moon having disappeared behind a wispy cloud. A flash of something caught her eye. A red light danced in the darkness on Henry’s chest—a laser light.
She urged Candy forward and turned toward the laser’s source to block it. Sewn into her sleeveless undershirt was a thin, Kevlar-like material, which would stop any projectile—the problem would be explaining it later. Her lenses found the source—an armed man lay in the distance between a couple of scrub oak trees, the nose of his rifle supported by a short bipod stand.
His bullet had to be made of silver. It would kill Henry.
She softly said “whoa” and pushed down on the stirrups as she stood up. The horse stopped. Now the red light centered on her stomach. She braced for the bullet—the impact would leave quite a bruise.
Then Candy took one more step.
The sound of rifle fire and hot pain pierced her arm. The impact twisted her backward, and she kicked free of the stirrups, free-falling a moment, then a heavy thud as she landed on the hard dirt road. Can’t black out. Can’t. She rolled onto her back, closing her eyes, agony racking through her from the fall, the nerves in her arm screaming from where the bullet tore into her flesh. In the next second she heard more gunfire, multiple shots from different guns. Then silence.
Chapter 16
Henry reined his horse around to avoid trampling Cerissa. He swung off before completing the turn, and Zeke’s horse started to bolt, spooked by the gunfire. The cowboy got the horse under control enough to slide out of the saddle to land near Henry.
Feet on the ground, Henry ran to her side and almost collided with Candy. The horse had calmly stepped across Cerissa’s body, blocking him. What is wrong with this caballo loco? He grabbed for the bridle but missed. The horse reared back, and he lunged for the bridle again, catching it. With a good grip on the leather straps, he tried to move the horse away from Cerissa. Candy struggled against him, striking him with her muzzle and breaking his grip. She pawed the ground, eyeing him as if to say, “Just try it.”
“Zeke, help me get the horse back.” He grabbed for Candy’s bridle again and latched on. He had to get to Cerissa. A bloodstain bloomed on her sleeve, growing fast.
From underneath the horse, Cerissa murmured something incomprehensible. Candy whinnied and tried to lower her head, straining against his grip. “Go,” she gasped, her lips barely parting to say the word. Candy stopped struggling and stepped away, her hooves gracefully avoiding Cerissa.
He quickly knelt next to Cerissa. For a moment, her image seemed to waver and then firm up again. He dismissed it—the smell of blood must have affected his vision. He steeled his willpower to ignore the liquid’s allure and brushed the fabric away from her arm, checking for damage. Blood pumped rapidly from the gunshot wound. He pulled off his belt and looped it around her arm above the wound, tightening it to act as a tourniquet. He then ripped off his shirt and wrapped it around her arm, pressing down to
stanch the flow.
Her eyes sprang wide open. “Fuck,” she moaned.
“I’m sorry,” he said, keeping pressure on the wound. “I know this hurts, but we must stop the bleeding.”
* * *
“Hold fire,” Tig yelled. Four guns had fired at the sniper, including her own. She galloped in the direction of his sprawled body. Additional hoofbeats told her the others followed.
“Spread out,” she ordered, jumping from her horse. “He may not be alone.”
The shooter lay flipped on his side, a tarp underneath him, his face partially covered by his arm. Multiple shots from her team had hit him, and the impact must have rolled him over.
His semiautomatic rifle lay near him: a Smith & Wesson M&P 15-22, a military training weapon. The kind of gun designed for rapid-fire center-body shots, using small-caliber ammo. Probably silver. She kicked the gun out of his reach. Not that he was ever shooting again—her bullet had shredded his trigger hand.
She quickly assessed the rest of the wounds to his head and chest. Not her shots; she wanted him alive. Using her foot, she pushed him over to see his face. Mortal. No one she knew. Where were they coming from?
Karen rode up and swept her flashlight along the edge of the clearing. Tig tracked the light, her gun drawn, searching for other snipers. Rolf and Jayden rode toward an opening in the dense brush.
“He came through here,” Rolf called out, and reined his horse back to ride between broken branches. Jayden followed him.
Tig looked over her shoulder to the trail where Frédéric and Blanche had stayed.
“Keep lookout,” she shouted to them, and knelt down. The rifle was fitted with an infrared laser sight, which produced a beam invisible to the naked eye. It explained why his eyes were covered by infrared goggles.
“Tell me who you work for,” she demanded, leaning over him. Her shadow crossed over his face, her head blocking Karen’s flashlight.
The shooter gurgled. Tig stripped the night-vision goggles off his face, taking bits of brain and hair with it. He let out a choking, strangled breath.
