Truly, Madly...Deadly (a vampire romance) (Night Fall Book 2)

by Delilah Devlin

  As had become the team’s habit, they brought food to share among the group while they reviewed what they had learned. Emmy’s plate was piled high with tidbits from every dish that was lined up on the table. The woman had an appetite.

  Quentin’s had disappeared. He felt like he was watching the group from a great distance. Since hearing Emmy’s announcement, he’d been reeling. Darcy was pregnant? The child could only be Joe’s. That fact ate at his gut. A child was the one thing Quentin could never give Darcy.

  “Could you be wrong?” he’d asked Emmy after her bald statement.

  She’d shaken her head. “Take my word for it, I can sense this. Must be the hormones or something, but I can spot a pregnant woman from a mile away.”

  “Isn’t it too soon for you to say? Only a few days have elapsed, since…”

  She’d looked at him with compassion in her eyes. “Darcy’s body is already changing, Quentin.”

  Why hadn’t he noticed? Of course, the scent of her skin and hair, and yes, her arousal, tended to overwhelm his senses whenever she was near.

  A child certainly changed everything. No vamp—at least none with a conscience—would turn a pregnant woman. The results were too horrific.

  Thank God, Em had noticed.

  “Quentin, you aren’t eating,” Emmy said, taking a seat beside him. “You really should try these meatballs. Phil’s wife, Bets, made them. They’re barely cooked—in our honor. Wasn’t that sweet?” She used a toothpick to spear one of the sauce-covered rounds and popped it into her mouth. She held up another and offered it to him.

  Rather than let her see how morose his thoughts had turned, he opened his mouth and accepted the offering. If Emmy sensed he was disturbed, she’d never leave him to stew in his own thoughts.

  The front door opened, and Captain Springer strode inside, followed closely by Darcy. Quentin wondered why the captain had detained her. The captain’s broad face held a look of determination that hardened his square jaw.

  Quentin’s gaze followed Darcy into the room, and then fell to her flat tummy. Damn! Something hitched in his chest. Something he didn’t want to put into words.

  His desire to make her his mate for eternity was slipping through his fingers. She’d been ideal—with a passion strong enough to match his. For the first time in his undead life, he’d been ready to commit to one woman.

  And now, the right thing to do would be to give her up. The sooner, the better.

  But he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go.

  Darcy offered him a tight smile and raised an eyebrow at Emmy until the other woman scooted down the couch. Then she sat on the couch beside him—so close, his thigh heated with the contact.

  “Listen up,” Captain Springer called for their attention. “The deal’s going down tonight. Rupe King’s boat is coming in with a shipment of coke. When Nicky meets the boat at the dock, he’ll get a little more than he bargained for.”

  Having been filled in on Rupe King’s role in the bust by Max, Quentin listened as the captain issued instructions to the team.

  “I’d like to extend a welcome to Dylan and Emmy O’Hara.” The captain nodded to the couple. “Seattle vouched for you, Mr. O’Hara. I’ll appreciate your input as this goes down, but this is my operation. My team is trained, and I wouldn’t like either you or your wife to be hurt in the crossfire.”

  Dylan nodded his understanding. “We’ll be standing by to assist.”

  Unexpectedly, Darcy’s hand settled on Quentin’s thigh, and he covered it with his own, giving her a squeeze. No one seemed to notice, as all gazes were on the captain.

  “We’ll go in with crossbows and assault rifles. The Vero Beach PD has already cleared the dock of civilians.” The captain paused, and his gaze swept each of his team. “It goes without saying that we’re taking out every one of Nicky’s gang. Give no quarter.”

  The team came to their feet and filed out the door.

  Quentin caught Darcy’s hand when she rose to follow.

  Her glance was questioning.

  “Perhaps you should sit this one out, love,” he suggested quietly.

  A frown furrowed her forehead. “Not now, Quentin. You can’t wrap me in cotton wool. I’m part of this team, and tonight is our biggest operation to date. This is my job.”

  Quentin had known she’d refuse. Oh hell, he should just tell her. Or better yet, tie her to her iron bed and let her rage at him.

  She tugged her hand from his.

  Quentin sighed and stood to follow. He hadn’t the right to come between her and her ambitions. But tonight, he’d stick close to her shapely ass and make sure she didn’t run into trouble.

  This would be her last dangerous assignment for a while. He’d tell her why later.

  *

  The radio crackled in Darcy’s ear. “Nicky and his crew just pulled into the marina,” the captain said from the command post—the team’s van in the parking area. “Remember, we’ll wait to strike until he brings in his men to move the cargo.”

  Thank God! She’d been afraid she would disgrace herself. The wait had been interminable. The storm that threatened to break over their heads had whipped up waves in the inlet, setting all the boats tied to the dock bobbing in the water. Her stomach pitched right along with them. Odd, since she’d never suffered from motion sickness before. Must be nerves.

  “I’m gonna barf if this doesn’t go down soon,” Phil moaned.

  Soft chuckles sounded from seven mikes. Darcy commiserated with Phil. Glad she hadn’t eaten any dinner, she kept silent beside Quentin, nausea roiling in her belly and clammy perspiration breaking on her forehead. This was one stakeout she’d be happy to see end.

  “Too many of Bets’ meatballs, Phil?” Emmy broke in, her voice full of sympathy.

  “God, don’t mention them,” he groaned.

  Above the sound of the gathering wind, footsteps echoed hollowly on the wooden planks of the dock. Quentin crouched so close behind her, she felt his body grow rigid. It felt right to have him watching her back, even though she still missed Joe. They’d taken up a position on the cabin cruiser tied next to Rupe King’s. Hunkered down behind the boat’s gunwale, they listened tensely for the order to move in for the kill.

  Quentin had stuck to her like glue all evening. It was annoying, but sweet, how protective he was of her. And totally unnecessary. When things turned ugly—and they would—she’d be moving fast. She didn’t want to trip over him.

  The rumble of voices sounded in the next boat, but the men spoke too low to make out their words. A sudden burst of laughter erupted and a door opened, spilling light from the cabin onto the dock.

  Darcy rose to peek over the rail, but Quentin’s heavy hand pushed her down. She turned to give him a glare. “What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered angrily.

  “Shhh.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the other boat.

  Darcy saw one of Nicky’s boys on the bow with a radio next to his ear.

  “Tell them it’s clear,” the teen said.

  Ignoring Darcy’s glower, Quentin whispered into his headset, “Get ready. Nicky’s lookout has given the all-clear. The others will be closing on the boat.”

  “Roger that,” Max replied quietly. “No one moves until I give the signal.”

  With the team in position on neighboring boats and inside cars in the marina, the gang would be encircled in moments.

  Darcy held her breath. Once the noose tightened, Nicky would react like a trapped animal. She’d seen the mayhem he was capable of when he held all the cards, now she’d get a glimpse of a monster in full rage.

  The heavy tread of half a dozen of Nicky’s “soldiers” echoed dully in the night.

  Darcy hugged her crossbow to her chest and concentrated on the sound of her breaths to make her racing heart slow its pace and give her thoughts focus. Slower, calmer, centered. She drew on her inner reserve of peace, visualizing the team’s victory.

  She was ready.


  “Get cocked,” the captain said.

  Darcy rose on her knees, lifted her bow, sighted down the shaft of her arrow, and then rose a fraction higher to point it over the railing. In the dim light provided by the lamps strung from boat slip to boat slip, Darcy couldn’t sight on Nicky. “I don’t see him,” she whispered.

  “Must still be in the cabin,” Max replied. “Take out the men on the dock you can see when I give the order.”

  With the deck of the boat pitching beneath her knees, Darcy struggled for balance. “I’ll take the first in line.”

  “I’ve got the second target,” Max said.

  Once the team had selected their marks, the radios went silent. The only sounds came from boats nudging their slips and booted feet stomping wood.

  Suddenly, one of Nicky’s men lifted his nose into the wind.

  “Now!” Max shouted.

  Darcy pulled back on her trigger, letting her arrow fly. Her first target staggered, and then disintegrated. She reached for her next arrow, and Quentin leapt over the gunwale and landed on the narrow walkway between the two boats.

  The rapid tattoo of gunfire erupted, and her team members shouted in their mikes as they took cover.

  Cursing beneath her breath, Darcy quickly pulled back her bowstring, latched it in the spring clip, and slid the arrow along the track. Armed, she slipped over the gunwale, intent on following Quentin.

  From all along the dock came the sounds of the ensuing battle. Curses and the sharp staccato of machine gun fire ripped through the night.

  “How many?” Max asked.

  “I counted nine,” the captain said, his voice sounding raspy as he ran along the dock to join the fight.

  “That means six to go.” Max grunted, and then roared.

  The sounds of fists meeting flesh filled Darcy’s headset.

  “Emmy, get back to the van!”

  “Dylan, I have a stake in this, too. You’re not leaving me behind.”

  “God dammit to hell!”

  As she crept aboard the drug lord’s cruiser, Darcy ignored the voices in her ear and the flashes of gunfire that burst brilliantly around her. Getting Nicky was her sole focus. Oh, and saving Quentin’s butt. They were partners now. He shouldn’t have proceeded without her.

  She climbed up the gangway and slipped over the side, making her way toward the steps leading down into the cabin. The lights had been doused, but she sensed movement inside. Careful not to make any noise, she inched her way toward the shadowed compartment.

  “Well, if it isn’t GI Jane.” The voice came from behind her, and she stiffened, her heart lurching in her chest. “I’d recognize your sweet scent anywhere.”

  The team went instantly, eerily silent. With her heart picking up its pace, she slowly turned to face an armed Nicky Powell, her bow raised level with her chest. All she could think was, where the hell was Quentin?

  Quentin watched from the shadow of the cockpit, his hand tightening around the puny stake he held. Nicky had a gun pointed at Darcy. Quentin didn’t dare make a move, or he might distract her.

  Nicky took a step toward her.

  “Don’t come any closer,” she warned.

  He sniffed the air. “I smell Quentin. He’s been all over you, hasn’t he?”

  His cold smile sent a shiver down Quentin’s back.

  “You’re surrounded,” Darcy said, her voice steady. “You may as well lay down your weapon. You aren’t stepping off this boat.”

  Quentin’s chest filled with pride at her courage.

  “But I have you,” Nicky said, silky satisfaction in his tone. “Therefore, I have the advantage.”

  A soft click and the blur of her arrow flying toward Nicky’s chest happened so quickly, Quentin didn’t have time to react.

  The arrow sank only to its tip.

  Nicky’s laughter, soft and ominous, rang in the air. “Do you think you’re the only ones who own Kevlar jackets?” With finger and thumb, he plucked the arrow from his shirt. “Let’s stop wasting time. Come here.” He waved her closer with his gun.

  Quentin watched Darcy’s face and knew the exact moment she’d decided not to cooperate. She drew a deep breath, and her hands clenched at her sides. He started to rise from his hiding place when she took a step toward Nicky. Suddenly, she feinted to the side.

  The roar of Nicky’s gun spurred Quentin from his hiding place. From the corner of his eye, he saw Darcy pitch forward and over the side of the boat, her body splashing softly in the water below. He roared and launched himself at Nicky, desperate to get to Darcy.

  He raised his stake and Nicky fired again, striking Quentin in the abdomen. He dropped the stake, but the bullet didn’t slow his advance. His charge carried him into Nicky and down onto the bow of the cruiser. His progeny bellowed, his face transforming and pulling Quentin into his own bloodlust.

  Quentin’s body and face expanded, and he flung back his head with a howl of fury. He rolled with Nicky, fighting to keep his “son” beneath him. He spotted a coil of rope and reached out his hand to close around it.

  Nicky pounded at Quentin’s sides with his fists, but Quentin was undeterred. He grasped the rope in both hands and wound it once around his opponent’s throat.

  Nicky’s eyes bulged as the noose tightened. His mouth gaped, and his body bucked in powerful surges, trying to unseat Quentin, but Quentin pulled tighter until the nylon cut into the other vamp’s throat. With adrenaline surging through his veins, Quentin snapped the rope, severing Nicky’s head from his shoulders.

  When the din of his bloodlust quieted in his head, he heard the shouts of the team and Dylan as they ran toward him. He lurched toward the side of the boat and jumped into the water. As he entered it, he heard splashes all around him. Bright lights shone into the murky depths.

  He swam deep to the bottom of the inlet, but he didn’t see her. His heart breaking, he reached into the silt and waving fronds of seagrass, searching for the place her body had settled. How long had it been? Please, God, I have to find her.

  His lungs burning from lack of air, he refused to return to the surface. Every moment was precious. His hands sank below the swirling green seaweed as he swam along the bottom. Then he saw a pale oval glimmering among the fronds. He reached and snagged Darcy’s braid, pulling her into his arms. He swam for the surface, his lungs nearly bursting, praying he wasn’t too late.

  Quentin surfaced, and many hands reached for his burden. Although reluctant to let her go, he lifted her body gently into their waiting arms, and then heaved himself onto the planks beside them, remaining crouched outside their circle.

  Max made quick work of removing her Kevlar jacket and her T-shirt. Then he placed two fingers to the side of her throat. “Her heart isn’t beating.”

  A raw, burning sensation tightened Quentin’s throat. With every fiber of his being, he fought the need to push everyone aside, gather her close, and howl. Darcy couldn’t be gone. Eternity without her was unthinkable.

  His breath sounding harsh in his ears, he watched Max press his clasped hands against her chest.

  Captain Springer knelt beside her head and lowered his mouth to hers, breathing into her lungs.

  Dylan pressed her T-shirt against the furrowed wound high on her shoulder that seeped slowly with her blood.

  An arm settled around his shoulders, and Quentin looked up into Emmy’s misty face. He realized he was crying. She kissed his cheek and hugged him tightly to her breasts. His arms slipped around her while his eyes burned, watching the men work over Darcy’s still form.

  “Breathe, dammit,” he whispered, willing her to live. If only he’d moved more quickly, he could have taken the bullet for her.

  The men continued to work, and Quentin’s dread grew. He was responsible for this. He had made Nicky. God damn his soul.

  Max stopped the compressions and checked her pulse again.

  Quentin saw a flutter of an eyelid. “Wait,” he said, his breath catching and his heart beating wildly. Please don’
t let me have imagined it.

  Darcy’s body convulsed, and water burbled from her mouth. Max rolled her to her side and she choked, vomiting water. Her eyes remained closed, and the group waited to see whether she’d recover.

  Slowly, her hand clenched, and she coughed. Her eyes opened, and she stared straight at Quentin.

  Quentin didn’t care that everyone saw the tears streaking down his cheeks. He crawled toward her and reached out his hand to cup her cheek. “Don’t you ever give me another scare like that,” he said, not recognizing the sound of his voice, it was so clogged with emotion.

  Darcy’s hand settled over his. “What? You think I planned to suck down the entire Atlantic?” She coughed again, the sound rattling harsh inside her chest.

  “Let’s get this one to a hospital,” the captain said.

  Darcy’s gaze sought Quentin’s. “Nicky?”

  “He’s dead,” he said flatly.

  “As are the rest of his minions,” Max said.

  Darcy settled back against the wooden planks, her eyes closing. “So tired.”

  Quentin gathered her into his arms and lurched to his feet. “Sleep, baby. I’ve got you now.”

  She sighed and pressed a kiss to his throat.

  Quentin held her close to his heart as he followed the captain toward the waiting van. How would he ever let her go?

  Chapter Twelve

  ‡

  Darcy followed the sound of soft laughter into her kitchen on wobbly legs, rubbing her sore, itchy shoulder. She pushed the door open, and three sets of vampires’ eyes swung guiltily toward her.

  Suspicion aroused, her gaze darted around the kitchen, but didn’t land on anything that would inspire the uncomfortable silence—except an open package of calves’ livers.

  Quentin shoved something on the counter behind his back and leaned indolently against the Formica.

  Darcy narrowed her eyes and reached around him. She pulled out a cold container of her favorite ice cream, Cookies N’ Cream. She lifted an eyebrow, but Quentin simply pulled a laden spoon from behind his back and slipped it between his lips.