“What?” Tasha asked, looking over her shoulder.
He shrugged and offered her a lopsided smile. “It was a joke. We had such a good time last night joking around I didn’t think you’d think I was serious.”
She used the hem of one sleeve to wipe her eyes and shifted her position so she could see him without craning her neck.
He skimmed a hand over his bald head. “The truth is that I drove you home because you didn’t need to drive yourself. You got sick as soon as we got inside the house and passed out. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”
Her gaze dropped to his bare chest and his own followed.
“Did I mention you got sick on me?”
Tasha whimpered and hid her face again.
Rueben chuckled and pulled her hands away. “I got you in bed, washed my clothes, and took a shower. I lay down here with you so I could keep an eye on you and must have fallen asleep. I swear I never laid a hand on you for any other reason.”
Staring into his coal black eyes, Tasha believed him. Snippets of their conversation at the bar were coming back to her. He’d kept her company in between sets with the band while she waited for—
She jumped to her feet and began searching through the pile of clothing on the floor. “Where is it?” she muttered, turning pockets inside out. “No, no, no … come on … be here …”
“What’s wrong?” Rueben asked from the bed.
“I had a journal, a little pink leather-bound book, last night. I have to find it.”
“I didn’t see a book.”
Tasha stopped her search and stared at him.
“I’m sorry, but I think I would’ve seen a book.”
Fear and guilt slithered up her spine like twin snakes and she collapsed on the bed. As soon as it was discovered that she was the one who’d stolen the journal from the lab, her career would be over.
Without the journal, her mystery callers were bound to withdraw their offer of assistance. Without their assistance, she couldn’t fight Caleb.
And she’d lose Maya.
Kirk was fucked and he knew it. He’d let Piper get away. Now he had to find the bitch before she went to the cops and told them everything about his operation.
He parked his silver Porsche down the street from her apartment, making sure he had a good view of the exit. When she left, he’d follow her, and when the time was right, he’d swoop in and grab her. The scenario that would follow played out in his head like a movie scene. He’d take her somewhere secluded, fuck her until she begged him to kill her, and then he’d fuck her some more. Only when he was satisfied he’d had her every way he could imagine, then he’d drain her dry and leave her battered corpse for the birds.
A car approached the entrance of the apartment complex and he tensed for a moment, but it wasn’t Piper. He sighed and picked up the small Thermos beside him. The mixture of blood and vodka burned his throat as he swallowed. Images of the fight he’d had with Piper, seen from above and intensified by the alcohol, flitted through his mind and he shuddered.
It’d been a shame to kill the new bunny—Jennifer, wasn’t that her name?—and leave her body behind an abandoned hardware store, but she’d seen and heard too much after Piper’s outburst. At least her blood was useful. He capped the Thermos as he settled in his seat to wait with the lingering taste of blood coating his tongue.
His thoughts once more turned to his plans for Piper. Anticipation made his dick hard and had him squirming in his seat. He’d need to be careful and not kill her too quickly. He’d made that mistake in the past and the satisfaction hadn’t been nearly as intense as he’d hoped.
No one turned on Kirk Beljean and lived. No one.
Another car approached the complex’s entrance and he perked up. A white Nissan Sentra paused at the entrance as a garbage truck passed and then turned right, heading up the street and away from Kirk.
“Gotcha, bitch,” he muttered and started the Porsche’s engine. He waited until the Nissan had reached the stop sign at the other end of the street, left turn signal winking like a spasmodic eye, before he steered his car onto the street and into pursuit.
He paused at the stop sign long enough to see Piper’s car turning right down another street. The Porsche lurched forward and tires squealed as he took the next turn a little too fast.
Keeping the Nissan in sight, he followed at a safe distance so as not to spook the driver, but after several more turns onto side streets, Kirk frowned. The route the Nissan carved through the town was taking them farther into downtown Jefferson.
“Where the fuck are you going?” he asked. Realization hit him when he caught a glimpse of the Nassau County Municipal Center’s roofline, now only blocks away. “Fucking goddamn bitch! You are so fucking dead!”
He couldn’t allow her to reach the Center and the police. A train’s horn sounded in the distance and he grinned. The railroad tracks were between their current position and the Municipal Center. If the timing was right, he could use the delay caused by the train to his advantage. His foot pressed the gas pedal to the floor and the Porsche shot forward.
Kirk whooped as warning bells combined with a blast of a train’s horn. Red-and-white-striped barriers lowered across the road, trapping Piper’s car between an eighteen-wheeler semi and his Porsche. He skidded to a stop behind the Nissan, angling his vehicle to cut off her escape route.
Jumping from the car, he could see the panic on Piper’s face that increased to horror when he reached the driver’s-side door and lifted the handle.
It didn’t budge. She’d locked the damn thing.
“Open this goddamn door, bitch!” He could hear her sobs even over the noise of the passing train as she fumbled with her cell phone. Rage and impatience overrode his senses. His fist connected with the window, shattering it and releasing Piper’s high-pitched screams. “Com’ere, you fucking whore!”
“Hey!” a man shouted from nearby. “Get your hands off the lady, mister!”
Snarling in fury, Kirk whirled toward the voice, to find the truck driver slowly approaching from the rear of his rig with a .22-caliber revolver already drawn and aimed at Kirk. “Fuck off.”
“Step away from the car,” the truck driver ordered.
“If you insist.” Kirk leapt over the Nissan’s hood. Gunfire echoed off the surrounding buildings. He roared in pain as a bullet grazed his ribs. He reached the driver, knocked the revolver aside, and wrapped his hand around the man’s throat.
The force of the impact knocked the smaller driver into the back of his rig. Kirk held him suspended by the throat with his feet frantically searching for the ground inches below. Soft tissue collapsed beneath the increasing pressure he applied to the driver’s throat until he heard a pop and the man ceased to struggle.
Kirk dropped the driver and he collapsed in a heap. Turning back to Piper’s car, he growled when he saw the open door and the empty driver’s seat. More angry shouts rang out from farther up the street and sirens sounded in the distance.
He picked up the driver’s revolver and darted for his car. The pain intensified with his movements. Wincing and clutching his side, he slid behind the Porsche’s steering wheel and jammed the car into reverse. Seconds later he was rocketing through the downtown streets, heading for the one person who might offer him sanctuary.
He just had to convince her it was in her best interests to do so if she wanted to live.
* * *
The fading vestiges of daylight pierced the remainder of the alcohol-induced fog that veiled Tasha’s mind. She rubbed her temple, trying to ease the ache in her head, and focused on Varik Baudelaire as he stood—battered and bruised—on the steps in front of Jefferson PD and described a vampire known only as The Dollmaker.
“He’s approximately six feet, four inches tall,” Varik announced in a hoarse voice. The line of bruises around his neck was plainly visible even in the dim light. A cut on his right cheek had been stitched closed and dark bruises ringed both eyes. “Short blond ha
ir, blue eyes that turn a very pale yellow.” He paused and swallowed, wincing, before addressing the vampires standing to one side of the gathered crowd of officers. “Enforcers, be advised, the Dollmaker has a scent similar to leather and old blood.”
A murmur passed among the human officers and Tasha shuddered. She’d known all vampires had a particular scent that was unique to each individual but it wasn’t common knowledge. Despite four decades of living openly, vampires were still a secretive lot and information regarding them was often hard to obtain. The fact that the FBPI was sharing this much information with humans underscored the gravity of what had transpired in the past few hours.
“Enforcer Sabian—” Varik’s broken voice fractured even more, forcing him to pause yet again. “Enforcer Sabian was abducted—” He stopped, and when he attempted to speak again, no words came forth.
Damian Alberez stepped forward, laid a hand on Varik’s shoulder, and Varik turned away, unable to continue with the briefing. Damian’s dark eyes swept the crowd as he picked up where Varik faltered. “Enforcer Sabian was abducted at approximately fifteen hundred hours, or three p.m., local time. That was almost five hours ago. I know most of you have worked through the day on other assignments and I know you’re tired. Despite what you may have heard about events of weeks prior, Enforcer Sabian is a federal agent. She’s one of us. Let’s bring her home.”
The crowd dispersed, with the Enforcers gathering around Damian, who appeared to be issuing additional instructions. The human officers moved away in pairs or small groups. Those who’d been working through the day gave the new arrivals a brief rundown of the events. All officers had been called in for the search, even Tasha, despite her status on the sick roster.
Still trying to massage away the pain in her temples, Tasha entered the deserted Municipal Center lobby and strode toward the wing housing the Jefferson Police Department. A rush of air and noise signaled that someone had entered behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see Varik limping toward her.
“We need to talk,” he croaked.
Tasha didn’t respond and entered the JPD offices, breathing in the smells of stale coffee, gun oil, and sweat as she passed through the rows of empty desks on her way to the employee break room.
“Where the hell were you earlier today?” Varik’s ragged voice carried an edge of anger that quickened her pace.
“Sick.”
“I left messages for you to meet Alex and me at the mobile lab.”
Tasha reached the break room and rounded on him. She braced one hand against the doorjamb to keep from falling over as the world suddenly spun at a much faster rate than normal. “And I told you I was sick. It happens to humans from time to time. We’re not as robust as your kind.”
“You should’ve been there.”
“I’m not some rookie you can jerk around from one place to the other, or threaten, for that matter.”
Varik shoved her inside and closed the door behind him.
“Get your grubby hands off me!” Tasha pulled free of him. “Goddamn vamps think you can just barge in whenever the hell you feel like it and manhandle people—”
Varik clutched her shoulder, yanked her from her feet, and slammed her into the door. Fury twisted his face into a dark mask. “I haven’t begun to manhandle you, Lieutenant,” he growled, fangs flashing as he spoke. “Alex is gone, abducted by the Dollmaker, and if you’d been where you were supposed to be, it might not have happened.”
“You are not going to pin this shit on me.” She tried to push him away but she might as well have been trying to move a brick wall. Human strength was no match against a pissed-off vampire. “What happened to Alex isn’t my fault.”
“I ask you again: where were you?” His dark chocolate eyes became two kaleidoscopic maelstroms as they shifted from brown to gold.
Tasha’s stomach churned violently. She gagged and he released her. She ran to the sink, expecting to heave the contents of her stomach into it, but nothing came forth. Once the nausea had passed, she splashed cool water on her face, praying that Varik would be gone when she turned around.
He still stood in front of the closed door, arms folded over his chest and glaring at her.
She returned his hostile stare, trying not to wince at the extent of his injuries. The limp he now sported was the result of a savage kick to his leg that had dislocated his right knee.
When the Dollmaker took Alex, he attacked Varik first, using the ruse of a stranded motorist to move in close. Once Varik’s guard was down, he’d severely beaten the Enforcer and then wrapped Varik’s own jumper cables around his neck, choking him into unconsciousness. The cables had been left tied around Varik’s neck, slowly stealing his breath. If Freddy and Reyes hadn’t found him, drawn out of the lab by Alex’s screams, he would’ve died. He’d been very lucky.
Although, looking at him now, Tasha was certain he didn’t consider himself so.
“You could’ve helped save her,” he whispered. “Why weren’t you there?”
Tasha held his gaze for a moment and then looked away. The memory of finding Rueben naked in her bed zipped through her mind like a movie. “It was a personal matter.”
“That is the best answer you can give me?”
“It’s the only one you’re going to get.”
“When you compromised evidence by giving it to Sheriff Manser—”
Tasha shuffled her feet and frowned, avoiding eye contact.
“—Alex covered your ass. I covered your ass.” He stalked toward her, hands clenching into fists. “Now Alex is in trouble, and you’re going to stand there and play these stupid games?”
“I answered your question.” She backed away from him until her shoulders bumped into a corner. “You can threaten me all you want, but you should know by now, I don’t respond well to threats.”
He leaned in close so his face was only inches from hers. “And I don’t respond well to losing people I care about.”
The door opened and Damian Alberez’s hulking form entered the break room. His dark eyes swept the scene as he placed his hands on his hips. “Is there a problem in here?”
Varik fell back a few steps but never looked away from Tasha. “No, no problem, just a misunderstanding. Right, Lieutenant?”
Tasha remained silent.
Damian grunted. “If you’re finished correcting it, the medical examiner has the report on the Jane Doe from the salvage yard.”
“On my way.”
“Lieutenant.”
Tasha glanced at Damian.
“Someone needs to follow up with the owner of the property next to the salvage yard. You’re it.”
“Whatever.”
Damian shot Varik a final parting glare and left.
Varik turned to follow but paused in the doorway. “This isn’t over between us, Lieutenant. Far from it.”
Tasha listened to his retreating footsteps as he limped down the hall toward the central office area. Her ears rang in the ensuing silence, and she struggled to control the hatred growing in her heart. Shaking like a rookie hyped on adrenaline, she vowed she would no longer allow herself to be pushed around by vampires.
Varik scared her, especially now that Alex had been abducted, but what frightened her even more was the prospect of people discovering where Tasha had been: drunk and in bed with a man whose last name she didn’t know.
Just like your fucking mother, the nagging voice in her head taunted. How long did she wait after your father split to shack up with someone? One week? Two? You’re just as pathetic as she was.
Tasha bolted from the room, trying to outdistance the voice that sought to break her spirit and drove the self-destructive thirst building within her.
“Lieutenant,” a woman’s voice called from the hallway behind her.
Tasha stopped and glared at Morgan as the vampire approached. “What is it, SI Dreyer? I’m in a hurry.”
“Running from the ghosts of your conversation with Director Baudelaire?”
Tasha tensed. “Excuse me?”
“I couldn’t help but overhear what Director Baudelaire said to you, specifically the threats.” Morgan slipped her hands into the pockets of her tailored designer slacks. “Such behavior is unbecoming for someone of his rank. If you’d like to file a formal complaint, I can see that it receives the appropriate attention at FBPI headquarters.”
“Wouldn’t that start an inquiry against him?”
“It’s possible, depending on the severity of his threats and if he’s made any against you in the past.” She shrugged. “Just something to think about,” she said as she sauntered past.
Tasha replayed in her mind her encounter with Varik, absently rubbing her shoulder where he’d grabbed her. “Ah, hell,” she muttered to herself then raised her voice. “SI Dreyer?”
Morgan stopped at the end of the hall and half turned toward her.
“I think I’d like to file that complaint.”
As Morgan strode back down the hall, her smile wide enough to show her fangs, Tasha couldn’t help but think she’d just made a deal with the devil.
fifteen
A GENTLE BREEZE RUFFLING HER HAIR AND THE SCENT of wildflowers forced Alex’s eyes open. The wind brushed her again and something slithering over her outstretched arm sent her heart into a frantic rhythm. She pushed herself away from whatever had touched her.
Soft things encircled her, and her mind began to piece together her environment from touch and smell. She lay on what she surmised was a huge bed, surrounded by mounds of pillows and a fluffy comforter. Sheer drapes billowing in the breeze from an open window beside the bed had brushed against her arm, startling her.
Wildflowers permeated the air with their sweet fragrances. Frowning, she searched for the bouquet. Her hand encountered a crystal vase on a table nestled between the bed and the open window. The flowers felt real enough, but how was it possible to have fresh-cut wildflowers in November?
A foreboding she couldn’t shake settled over her like a mantle.
Alexandra Sabian 2 - Blood Secrets Page 18
