“Two?” Stan stood, looked around at the other people in the bakery and sat heavily back down. “He could have killed you? Does the creep have Jorgensen, himself?”
“I don’t think so. He says he wants to help us find her.”
Then again, Jesse thought as some semblance of reason returned, the golden vamp had taken the other vampire out before she could get any news about Elizabeth Jorgensen out of it. Was this to help her? Maybe the blue-eyed vamp had an agenda of his own for staking one of his own kind. In that case, what would his agenda be?
Stan shook his head, which looked naked without his baseball cap. He’d slicked back his usually untamed shock of wavy brown hair. “You’re telling me there are people who believe they are vampires, meaning they’re so bad and heartless, they’re like monsters? And that some of them aspire to being helpful?”
“There are monsters. Believe that, if nothing else. Real monsters.” Stan could think of her explanation any way he wanted to, as long as he realized the danger.
“So, you believe that this guy, whoever and whatever he is, knows who has taken the girl?”
Jesse found herself standing and didn’t remember getting to her feet. She held on to the edge of the table with both shaky hands and glanced down at Stan, ready to scream if her neck didn’t stop aching. Every time she thought of him, the scar tissue lit with a fresh burst of fire that inexplicably brought dampness to all the wrong places.
He had caused this sensation of lust in her. His presence stirred up an unacceptable longing buried so deeply within her that she’d thought it nonexistent. And on some level of awareness, she knew that he was gone. Finally, gone.
She sat back down. Horrified that she’d been thinking of the golden vampire as a he, instead of an it, she said, “I’m hoping this isn’t some kind of sick game. On the other hand, his information might be all we have to go on.”
“What if we ignore the bastard and get on with our job?”
“Is ignoring a lead an option?” Jesse knew damn well that it wasn’t. Still, she wondered if the vampire was going to haunt her until he got what he wanted, whatever that might be, and whether she actually could afford to play his game. She’d had a taste of what he could do and had come up lacking. The simmering fires beneath her chin, and between her thighs, was a sign that he knew very well how to toy with her.
Or maybe she was just turned on by the challenge.
She searched Stan’s face carefully. For the first time in her adult life, she felt the need to confide in someone. She wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to face this arrogant vampire on his own turf, and whether she’d be able to ask a monster for help of any sort. If she stayed alive until then. However, if he spoke the truth about knowing the whereabouts of the Jorgensen girl, she’d have to take that risk.
“Let’s go,” she said, glancing away from her pilot, unwilling to see signs that he might already think she was as strange as the rumors suggested.
“Okay.” Stan got to his feet and waited for her to rise. “It’s going to be Dracula’s castle, then, or does this guy have a penthouse suite nearby?”
When she said nothing, he nodded. “Dracula’s castle it is.”
Stan picked up the untouched croissant and wrapped it in a clean white napkin. “In that case, and if it’s true what you say about this guy being bad news, do you think we might rent an armored tank? Is that in the budget?”
Jesse’s heart ramped up its beat as she moved her shoulder without the slightest trace of discomfort. A thought nagged. If last night hadn’t been a dream, how had her arm healed? If it wasn’t a dream, then the arrogant vampire had actually dangled her from a balcony, for real, and after using his eyes to mesmerize her, had stripped her down to her underwear.
It just wasn’t possible. Yet her head felt light and fuzzy thinking about it, and about being unconscious in the same room with a …
Stumbling toward the bakery’s door, frantically sending her senses outward in search of a disturbance that would have the feel of vampire written all over it, Jesse was glad to see daylight, however meager, and the crowds on the sidewalk.
He isn’t here.
Okay.
Breathe.
Snapping her spine straight, Jesse reset her resolve. She had a job to do, and by God she would do it, no matter who or what stood in her way. She would find Elizabeth Jorgensen.
“Alive,” she muttered as her heels hit the pavement.
“Run, little dove.”
Lance leaned against the wall with his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t be tempted to pull Jesse back.
He had gone too far. Hoping to ease her nightmares about the alley, he’d nearly allowed her to see into her past. Her young voice called out to him, as it had, over and over, since his first sighting of her in the helicopter—only this time, she’d heard it, too. Ten-year-old Jesse’s voice had come between them, dug up from wherever it had come from, pleading for him to help her parents, and for him to reverse the carnage.
It was a close call. He should have figured Jesse’d be tapping into her new senses already, and by doing so, have an open line into his own thoughts.
After such a mishap, she needed space. He’d have to be more diligent in the future about engaging her too eagerly, when all he could think about was the power of the moment when his mouth had touched hers, and the responding rush of the blood beneath her luminous skin.
She’d felt it, too.
Lance shook his head to clear it. Already he had crossed the line. Pursuing this case further meant danger on all counts.
He didn’t have to help Jesse; didn’t have to place his own existence in jeopardy, or return to the world he despised. The blood would help her. Their encounter in the alley would alert her to how unprepared she was. He could walk away, go back to his domain and continue, as always. Being near Jesse meant confronting emotions long ago shoved aside, and best left there.
She was right to think him lethal. But then, he thought with regret, the others, those who had the American girl, were so much worse.
He shoved off the wall.
Surely it was possible for an immortal as strong as himself, and as disciplined, to leave this woman to her own fate, despite the fact that he had already, in essence, tromped all over it?
He shook his head again, harder this time, realizing it was too late. Jesse’s heartbeat had become his. Her pulse resonated inside his chest. His blood mingled with hers, inside her.
She is my responsibility.
The woman who wore a scar at her throat like a trophy, a reminder that she had passed through hell and back, equated him with the species she despised. Yet he was a part of her, and had been for a while.
“Angel,” he whispered, heading for his car. She had called him that once, and it had changed him. Had she been so wrong?
He hadn’t been able to save her parents. It was far too late by the time he had arrived on the grisly scene. But he had taken care of the bloodthirsty scavengers, and one little blood-soaked girl lived on, believing for a few moments in angels. A little girl, feeble, and near to her own death, had known the difference between himself and the others on some subconscious level.
Maybe she would see this, because it seemed that he was going to be her guardian angel again, whether she liked it or not.
Jesse would come to him. She’d arrive on her own, seeking answers for his crimson kiss and for the reason she hadn’t killed him in that hotel room when she’d had the chance.
He would be waiting.
Chapter 9
The senator from New York had been a mess. The memory of Gerry Jorgensen’s face, downcast and overcome with lines of fear, worry and sorrow, sat heavily on Jesse. She’d seen her share of faces like his; people hanging on to threads of belief, whether that thread was religion or plain old personal willpower. But for herself, things were different. This case wasn’t about extortion, terrorism or hefty return fees. This case was unique.
She hadn’t been able t
o verbalize the words choking her. At the morning’s meeting, she didn’t mention the strange lead. Dealing with bloodsuckers wasn’t anywhere near the realm of human comprehension. In her mind, thoughts of crazed vampires holding Elizabeth Jorgensen had coated the government offices with a slick layer of uncertainy that only she could see.
There had been no ransom note, no call in the three days since Elizabeth had gone missing, and more than likely wouldn’t be. It was possible, she supposed, that vampires needed money, but thought it highly unlikely they’d keep their fangs off a young woman long enough to organize. The officials sharing the room with the senator were clueless as to the possibilities, and her secret had made her heart ache, because it was a secret she had to keep, for now. The senator still maintained hope for his daughter’s safe return.
The r in the word risk floated above her head, as did the question of whether or not the golden vampire had told the truth. If he had an agenda of his own for trying to lure her from the city, would it involve a trade? Herself for Elizabeth? A fresh blood donor?
Who the hell was he, anyway? Did vampires have names, first and last? There was no way she could have brought any of this up in such weighty government offices, insinuating that her informant might or might not be the kidnapper, and that he wasn’t mortal. And if she had told them the truth, passing along the information the vampire had given her, what then? Likely,
she would have been tossed out on her ear and labeled a crank in spite of her reputation and references. She would have been sent home.
Going home was not an option. She’d known this the minute the exquisite creature had stopped in that field. She’d been certain of it when his eyes had turned on her. His presence hung with her, right beside the Jorgensen girl, tearing her concentration into two equal parts.
She made all the typical moves, said the right things to the people helping the senator, without bothering to pay close attention to what the others in the room suggested. Yes, they started the usual rounds of searches. Feelers were already in place. Things were moving in manageable lines. But phone taps and security guards weren’t going to help if Elizabeth had been taken out of the city by vampires.
The question of what a bunch of vampires wanted with a young girl, if not money, played over and over in her mind on a continual loop. The answer brought on a round of dry heaves. Food. They wanted to feed on the girl.
She’d barely made it out of the room after being shown a photograph of Elizabeth Jorgensen, a slim, pretty young brunette. Visions of Elizabeth had messed with her equilibrium as she’d rested her head against the bathroom sink, repeatedly dowsing her face with water, groping for composure and wondering how long vampires might last on the blood of one poor girl.
How long did it take for life to drain away, one drop at a time? Elizabeth might already be dead. Lord help them all if she became like them.
“Please, no. Not that,” Jesse muttered, feeling faint from the sheer number of loose ends, and less than confident in her abilities at the moment. If the blond vampire proved credible, it would mean that a whole new world ran parallel to the known one, darker than anything anyone might imagine, and layered with its own rules. In order to confront the special circumstances of this case, and without knowing for certain what the rules governing the undead actually were, she’d have to add both knowledge and a few new skill sets to her repertoire, and wasn’t sure how to go about it.
Well, actually, she did know where to start. He had warned her of this by telling her she’d need his help.
She’d walked in a fog to the car, and had remained silent on the ride to the airport. She glanced sideways at Stan now, having been motionless in her seat in the chopper for some time as they winged their way out of the city with no armed guards, not a single CIA agent in tow and none of the usual negotiations arsenal as they headed for the countryside.
She was on her own here. There was a good possibility she was the only hope standing between the missing girl and her death.
Mulling over her plan, Jesse peered out the window. She would send Stan off as soon as they landed, and Stan wouldn’t like it. Men had a built-in protective gene that made them want to watch over the women. Even vampires, it seemed, were not exempt, if the chiseled one who had killed his cousin had truly done so for her sake.
She was putting her life on the line to explore that point, though accepting the vampire’s invitation was very probably tantamount to its own death sentence. Still, it was the only thing she could think of to do.
In just minutes now, she’d know how it would turn out.
Her hands lay quietly in her lap. Her breathing was irregular as Stan darted the chopper in and out of the snowcapped mountain passes. Stan hadn’t said more than twelve words to her since she’d hopped onto the seat. His face was set and his cap in place, without its usual jaunty angle—suggesting that he was waiting for the order he assumed might come any minute now.
Jesse replayed that order in her head, not wanting to be alone, scared. But being frightened wasn’t anything new. Being frightened this far off the grid wasn’t a new experience, either. She’d waited all these years for just such an occasion. The chance to face a vampire and reap revenge for her loss.
For my family.
There was no way she’d expose Stan to the leeches. He had been so happy with his four-hundred-count sheets. He’d looked comfy in his boxers and brown socks when surprised in the hotel doorway. If she never saw Stan again, she’d remember those things. If today was the day her time was up, it would be important to know that Stan had gotten safely away.
The air in the chopper was loaded with unspoken thoughts that made Jesse afraid to look down at the ground. If she saw the vampire there, would he be gloating? Smiling? Sharpening his teeth in preparation for a meal willingly self-delivered?
“Shit.”
“You just said that,” Stan remarked. “Not five seconds ago.”
Glancing over at him, Jesse sensed his need for conversation.
“E.T.A.?” she asked in an attempt to keep Stan, and herself, on stable ground.
“Ten minutes, but I can always turn around,” he replied.
Jesse watched Stan’s frown deepen.
“Just saying,” he muttered.
The plan, Jesse reiterated, was to wait until they landed before telling Stan to hit the road. She didn’t have the strength to fight him and everybody else. She didn’t know how to keep Stan away from the vampires. She wished she had brought the military with her, all of them loaded up with an endless supply of silver-bullet-spraying automatic weapons. Maybe even a few of Stan’s tanks.
“Boss?”
“Yeah?”
“You aren’t going in there alone. I won’t let you.”
It was a sentiment she didn’t need; one that made her stomach clench. In silence, Jesse looked out over the fields. Recognizing the meadow at last, she experienced the now-familiar flicker of excitement deep down inside.
All cops had this strange love-hate relationship with anxiety, she reasoned in self-defense over that flicker of excitement, and she’d had her share of years on the beat. After a ton of stress overload piled up, the anxiety became more like excitement, fueling the need to get on with the task and see where it took her. Would she evade death this time? Facing a gun, gang, robbery, had never been like confronting an honest-to-God freak of nature. Normal reactions weren’t going to get her far here. They would find the castle, tucked into the mountain like a canker, and he would be there.
“Boss?”
Jesse shook her head, refusing to engage Stan in conversation. She wanted Stan with her, and Stan probably felt that. She didn’t want to face this alone, and had to. She had always been alone, preferring it that way. This was nothing new. Relationships hurt. Intimacy led to loss. It was the usual mantra.
However, if she had a real friend, she thought now with sadness, it would be someone exactly like Stan. Smiling grimly over that, Jesse took a stronger grip on herself. It was g
oing to be Jesse Stewart, solo. All by her lonesome.
Drawn by a sudden chill, she looked up, saw the castle as they rounded a grove of trees. Her chest tightened.
“Who are you?” she whispered, alarmed by the scale of the vampire’s lair.
His fortress was several stories high, white enough to be almost blue and topped by miles of dark slate roof. In times gone by, this would have been the perfect spot to ward off intruders.
“Prince Charming’s castle,” Jesse muttered facetiously, chills covering every available inch of her body, and then some.
On this outing, she could clearly see that only a portion of the castle had fallen into ruin. A single turret. The rest of the building remained, a gigantic edifice that must contain a hundred or more rooms. Chances were good it housed at least one dungeon.
She was willing to bet it lacked a furnace.
“I didn’t like it before, and like it even less now,” Stan grumbled, heading for the building. “I don’t suppose it needs a landing pad. You know, since vampires turn into bats. With wings.”
Jesse locked her attention on the castle. She was at a huge disadvantage in a place that size, where its occupant knew all the twists and turns of his not-so-humble abode. Hell, she was at a disadvantage anyway, even if she didn’t actually go inside.
“Land reasonably close,” she directed, her voice registering her doubt. But this meeting was crucial. She had questions in need of answers. Maybe the vampire would give her those answers before he killed her, and she could get them to Stan. She had tracking devices in her coat pocket, her duffel bag, and taped to her underwear. She was wired to Stan through a freckle-size microphone duct-taped to her chest.
Maybe that was why her chest felt so tight.
He won’t kill me for a while, Jesse told herself to soothe the gnawing pressure, and it was a good idea to hang on to that hope. He’d had two opportunities to kill her already, and had passed. He had placed his mouth on her, instead, and had whispered warnings about this case that now rang in her ears with the efficacy of a shout. Fact was, there was a good chance his warnings were only signs of greed, and that he wanted to keep the privilege of sinking his teeth into her for himself.
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