by Elisa Adams
* * * * *
For the first time since he’d woken up cuffed to her bed, Wil was glad Becca hadn’t released him. Having his arms free would be a very, very bad thing right now. He had the strangest urge to hold her, to stroke her hair and the soft skin of her back and comfort her while she lay half-asleep on top of him. An urge like that, no matter how misplaced, could never be good. He had no interest in offering comfort to a woman. At least not a woman he was sleeping with.
And definitely not a woman who wanted to kill him.
Becca yawned against his chest. “You’re something else, you know that?”
He couldn’t help but laugh. Did she even know that, in the afterglow from her orgasm, she seemed to have forgotten that she planned to drive a stake through his heart?
“Yeah, you too.” He wanted her to sleep, since he had plans for her as soon as she did, but he also wanted information. “You said you make money off this vampire hunting thing, right?”
Her soft curls slid against his chest as she nodded.
“Who hired you to kill me?”
“You don’t want the answer to that.”
She didn’t need to give him a name. Just the answer she gave him was enough. Not some nameless, faceless stranger, but someone he knew. And he had a pretty good idea of just who that might be. Someone who didn’t want to pay him for a job he’d done, and thought killing him would be the easiest way to rid himself of that debt. He sighed. He wouldn’t put it past Rex, but before he approached the man he needed to know with absolute certainty that it was Rex who’d hired Becca.
He said nothing for a long time, waited until her breathing had evened out and her lips parted in sleep before he spoke again. “Becca?”
“Huh?” came the sleepy reply.
“You still didn’t answer my question. Who hired you? What’s his name?”
“Rex,” she said on a yawn. It wasn’t long before she dozed back off again.
He lay still under her, not wanting to jostle her and drag her out of the fragile early stages of sleep. For what he had planned, he needed time, and he needed her to sleep right through it all. She’d be out for a while, given the rigorous sex and the blood he’d taken from her twice in such a short period of time. He shouldn’t have fed from her the second time, but it had served two purposes. First, it would help him get the rest of his strength back. Second, it would help her to sleep like the dead and give him enough time to accomplish his plan.
Chapter Four
When Becca had been sleeping for about twenty minutes or so, Wil pulled his arms and broke the cuffs holding him to the bed. In his still slightly weakened state, it took a few tries, but it was worth the effort. He worried at first that she’d wake up as he was trying to escape, but she barely stirred. With the blood he took from her and the exertion he’d put her through, she was probably too exhausted to do anything but sleep. As soon as his arms were free the blood rushed back into them, sending jolts and tingles along strained nerves. He let them drop relaxed to the bed, needing to give them some time to get feeling and full range of motion back before he dared to use them. He’d have one chance at what he’d planned, and he wasn’t going to ruin it because he was too impatient. He’d waited this long. Another few minutes wouldn’t kill him.
Once he was able to move his arms without any pain, he shifted Becca’s body off his and onto the mattress with careful, measured movements. When he had her settled beside him he stood, rolling his aching shoulders and cursing that she’d left him there for so long. She was lucky he hadn’t dislocated his shoulder or pulled an important muscle or two. Then he would have really been angry—and she might have woken up to find herself naked in the middle of a crowded downtown intersection. As far as he was concerned, she was getting off easy, though she might not see it that way when she woke.
He stood by the bed, unmoving, for a few seconds to make sure she didn’t stir. When she stayed blessedly asleep, he walked to her dresser and opened the top drawer. A quick search produced a pair of fantasy-inspiring thigh-high black stockings with intricate lace tops. He smiled. They’d be perfect. He took them back to the bed with him.
Someday he’d love to see her wearing them where they were meant to be worn, but for tonight they’d serve a different purpose. Retribution. He rolled her slowly onto her back, raised her arms over her head and used the stockings to tie her hands to the bedposts. Now she’d see what it was like to wake up at someone else’s mercy. But unlike her, he wouldn’t accidentally leave a way for her to get out. He’d learned some very interesting tying techniques from some even more interesting and dangerous sources. The more she fought against the bonds, the more they’d tighten. To be remotely comfortable, she’d have to lie still.
He wouldn’t leave her there forever, but he’d leave her long enough for her to surrender to what he needed her to do. To pack her shit and go home to her sister. And then he’d be able to walk away before he got in any deeper than he already was. She’d threatened to drive a stake through his heart and that bothered him to no end that he wanted to make sure she was comfortable. It was crazy, and he needed some space before he completely lost his mind and gave up the idea of revenge for what she’d put him through. He was the injured party here, and he was damned well going to make sure Becca understood that before he let her go.
Once he’d finished binding her to the bed, he pulled on his boxers and jeans, grabbed his cell phone and left the room. The main area of the house was spacious enough, and far enough away from the bedroom where Becca lay sleeping, that he could clear his mind and get his focus back on the business he’d come to Pennsylvania for. Being so close to her for so long was messing with his head. Her scent hung heavy in the air and it seemed he couldn’t get away from it. But at least if he wasn’t staring at her all night long, he’d be able to achieve a small semblance of peace of mind.
He wandered down the hall into the living room and flopped down on the couch. He had a long-overdue phone call to make. At least when Becca had dropped his phone it had landed on his piled clothes. Otherwise she might have broken it. He didn’t like to use landlines for business-related calls, and he didn’t know if Rex had her line bugged. He wouldn’t want her employer to know he was still alive. If Rex or his bouncer goons came looking for Wil, they’d ruin his plans. He flipped open the phone and dialed Ellie’s number.
She answered on the fourth ring. “It’s a little late Wil.” She sounded sleepy and guilt barraged him for calling at such a late hour. But this was a call that couldn’t wait until morning, since he had no idea what the rest of the night would bring.
“Sorry if I woke you. This is the first chance I’ve had to check in. I wanted to give you an update, if you have a second.”
“Got any good news for me?” Her voice had perked up. “Did you talk her into coming home?”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice hesitant.
“I’ve almost got her convinced. In another day or so, we’ll be on our way back.” He didn’t say home, knowing Ellie and Eric no longer lived in Stone Harbor, where the Holmes sisters had grown up. They’d chosen to move after the birth of their son, Aidan, to a more secluded area. Having a child with the ability to change himself into a panther tended to make people a little secretive, especially when the child was only two years old and hadn’t yet learned when was an appropriate time to make that change. “How’s the little guy.”
“Little? Hah! Sometimes I swear he eats more than I do. He’s growing like a weed, already three or four inches taller than most children his age. My sister Charlotte’s very involved in his life, and I’d really like to see Becca get involved too. We used to be so close. Before everything fell apart.”
Fate had a way of taking that away whenever a person got comfortable. Wil knew that well enough. He’d had his own share of heartache in his life. More than he’d share with casual friends. “I know. I’m doing the best I can. I’ll get her home soon.”
Besides the fact that she was a total nutcase who liked to stake vampires for a living? “She’s healthy, if that’s what you’re asking.” At least physically. The verdict hadn’t come in yet on her mental health.
“I’m glad she’s okay. Is she giving you a hard time?”
He laughed. If only she knew how hard Becca was making things—and him—on a regular basis. He’d never been so confused in his life. “Nah. Piece of cake.”
He stood and wandered around the room, taking in the expansive area and its impersonal décor. There wasn’t a single thing in the house to tie her to anyone, at least nothing he’d seen. No family pictures, no address books, no handmade quilts from obscure relatives or artwork from her nephew. Just furniture, a few newer DVDs and twenty or so hardback popular fiction titles. It seemed Becca had tried to cut everything personal, every part of her past out of her life, and she’d succeeded. In a materialistic way. He’d seen the sadness in her eyes when he’d told her what Ellie had done. Some small part of her still remembered that life, and held onto it. But unless he could find a way to fix her, he was going to be returning Becca to her family a broken woman.
“Thanks, Wil. I appreciate it,” Ellie continued, dragging him from his thoughts.
“No sweat.”
At least it wouldn’t be, if she decided to spare his life after she found out what he’d done to and with Becca. He still didn’t know if he’d be walking away from this situation with all his body parts intact. The way he saw it, there was a better chance he wouldn’t be.
“You’ll keep me updated, right?” Ellie asked.
“I will. Take care.” With that he disconnected the call and dialed another number. Royce, an old friend he knew would be awake at this time of night. A vampire Wil had known for centuries, and one of the few people in his life he could implicitly trust.
Royce answered sooner than Ellie had, and in a much better mood. “What’s going on?”
“Well, I found Becca.”
“Good.” Royce let out a long sigh. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, mostly.”
“Mostly?” Wil pictured Royce’s blond eyebrows shooting up, his expression amused at Wil’s cryptic choice of words. “You wanna elaborate on that a little?”
“She’s a little psycho.”
“Becca?” Royce laughed. “Nah, she’s easy to deal with.”
Said the man who hadn’t seen her since she was eighteen years old. “She’s a vampire hunter. And get this one. Rex Holden hired her to kill me.”
Royce laughed. “Talk about irony, huh? The hunter became the hunted. In a big way.”
“Just shut up, okay?” Wil ran his free hand through his hair, battling the anger and frustration welling inside him. “This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, I think it is. I think it’s friggin’ hilarious.”
“You would. You’re not stuck in the middle of it.”
“And I wouldn’t want to be. What are you going to tell Ellie when she finds out you’ve been sleeping with her sister?”
“Who said I—”
“You didn’t have to say it. I know you. If there’s danger involved, you’re there. And I’ve seen Ellie’s sister. Believe me, I completely understand. But Ellie’s gonna kill you.”
“Like I haven’t figured that out already.”
Royce laughed again. “What are you going to do? Do you have some sort of master plan this time, or did you just jump in without looking…again?”
Wil considered for a moment disconnecting the call. Why had he thought calling Royce would make him feel better? The only thing it did was make him wish Royce and his mate lived closer so he could go find him and wrap his hands around the idiot’s thick neck. “Of course I have a plan. I’m going to drag her back to where Ellie wants her, as I promised I would. That way she can’t do any more damage to our race. With any luck, Ellie will be able to talk some sense into her before it’s too late.”
“Yeah right. Do you need any help?”
“Nah, I’ve got this one.”
“I don’t doubt it for a second. Keep me posted.” Royce disconnected the call.
Wil sat there for a long moment, thinking about what Royce had said to him. How could he have known what had happened between him and Becca? Was he that easy to read that something in his voice gave him away? No, it couldn’t be that. It had to be something else. Something here wasn’t right.
He thought back to the few times he’d spoken to Ellie about Becca. She’d been a little too insistent that he be the one to check up on her and get her home if she wasn’t safe. Why him? Why not Royce?
And why hadn’t he questioned it sooner?
Because he was an idiot. He hadn’t listened to what Ellie was really saying. What would she think when she found out her little scheme had nearly gotten him killed?
He was tempted to give up, to walk away without looking back, but in the end he decided against it. Becca really did need help, and Ellie had to know that or she wouldn’t have cooked up this scheme. He’d stay, do what he’d promised, but now he’d be able to walk away with a clear conscience.
An image of Becca as she’d been the night before floated through his mind. Strong, sexy, take-charge and damned near lethal. But under all that, there was a softness she tried not to show to the world. It intrigued him. Made him think getting away might not be as easy as he hoped. The longer he spent with her, the more he wanted to know her. That wasn’t good, considering she’d been threatening to murder him just the day before. She was an assassin, of sorts. A killer for hire. But so was he. What made it right for him to do what he did, and not her?
He stood up and walked back toward the bedroom, his bare feet echoing softly on the cool wood floor. There was one possible difference between them. He didn’t kill innocents. Did she?
He didn’t know, and he wouldn’t be finding out anytime soon. For now, he had more important things in mind. He stepped through the bedroom door and smiled down at her sleeping form. It wouldn’t be too long before she woke up, and he planned to be there when she did. He didn’t want to miss the look on her face when she realized what he’d done.
* * * * *
Becca woke with a start and tried to sit up in bed. She only moved a few inches off the mattress before she had a distressing revelation. Her arms were anchored to the bed. Wil. Fury heated her insides and turned her stomach inside out, a healthy dose of fear on its heels. She shivered, goose bumps spreading across her skin even though the room temperature was comfortable.
“It’s about time you woke up. You think your anger is scary? You should see mine.”
She snapped her gaze the doorway where Wil stood. Exactly where she’d stood to watch him wake up the night before. He’d put on his jeans, but his feet and chest were bare. She couldn’t see his eyes well enough to read his expression, but the set of his shoulders and unsmiling line of his mouth said it all. He was pissed.
And she was helpless.
The drugs hadn’t lasted as long as they should have. The chains hadn’t held him as they were supposed to. She’d trusted Kel, believed what he’d told her when she’d gotten the new equipment from him last week. But with his distracted mental state, he might have given her the wrong things. And now Wil had gotten loose and left her in the position he’d vacated. Though he could do so much more damage to her than she could have done to him.
He’d turned on the bedside lamp and muted light filled the room, casting him in an eerie, menacing glow. The covers had been stripped away and she lay naked on the satin sheet, her body exposed to him in every way imaginable. Her skin flamed. She slid her legs closed, as tight as they could go. No way in hell was he getting a free show out of her torment.
“What’s the matter, Becca? Scared?”
“No,” she bit out, though her tone lacked conviction. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t be scared? Bravery only went so far, and she was no idiot. Vampires were dan
gerous creatures, and Wil Brogan was no exception. In the past week she’d listened to more than a few of Rex’s patrons tell stories about his exploits, both alone and with Royce Cardoso. What she’d heard didn’t exactly inspire calm. She might very well have found—and antagonized—the worst of the bunch.
“How does it feel to be helpless, Becca?” he asked, a sneer in his voice.
She said nothing. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Don’t want to talk? Fine. I already know how it feels. It sucks knowing you can’t move, can’t run, you’re stuck at the mercy of someone…dangerous.”
Dangerous, yes. She’d known that about him from the start. It had been a big part of what attracted her to him. But would he hurt her? Ellie had hired him, so she must trust him in some small way. Ellie didn’t leave family business to strangers. But Becca had done something unthinkable by threatening his life. He’d obviously taken offense to that, no matter what his relationship to Ellie was. He might decide she wasn’t worth his time, or he might be looking to inflict a little pain after what she’d put him through. She shuddered. She had no choice but to wait and see.
His hands in the front pockets of his jeans, he walked toward the bed. His gait was too easy, his stance too relaxed. It only made her stomach churn harder. She braced herself for something…anything.
“I’m sorry, I think I must be scaring you,” he said, his tone taunting.
“Doubtful.”
“It seems to me you aren’t in any position to lie.”
Damn straight she wasn’t. But that wouldn’t stop her. “Why should I be afraid of you? You should be thankful that I didn’t kill you when I had the chance.”
Of course, it would be more than simple for him to end it all right now. She winced at the thought.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, again mirroring her earlier actions. But he held no threatening objects in his hands.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Becca. I’m not going to hurt you. Much. I certainly won’t do any lasting damage.”
