Forbidden

by Leanna Ellis

  “That’s good enough. Don’t fasten it.”

  A jumble of plans and questions darted through his mind. Where would they go now? And how would they get there? He had to get Rachel someplace safe. And New Orleans was not safe. The logical choice was Pennsylvania. She could easily get lost in Amish country. “Have you called your folks?”

  “They don’t have a phone.”

  “Levi or Hannah, then?”

  She shook her head.

  Her family needed a warning they were coming. But how would he get her there? He couldn’t drive. Not so far, anyway. And it would probably be better to ditch the Mustang, because Akiva and Brody knew his car. “Is there a neighbor who can get a message to them?”

  “There’s a Mennonite family nearby, the Detweilers.”

  “Good. Where’s my cell phone?”

  She pulled it and his wallet out of her front pocket. When he raised a brow in question, she said, “I thought I should keep them safe. Just in case we had to leave suddenly.”

  “We do.” He looked into her stunning blue eyes and recognized common sense and quick thinking. For better or worse, they were in this together, and he was learning he could rely on her.

  Taking the cell phone and pocketing his wallet, he dialed the phone number she gave him then handed the phone back to her. When her family’s neighbor answered, she explained she needed to get a message to Levi for him to call them on Roc’s cell phone.

  While Rachel finished the call, Roc sat on the sofa and grabbed Brody’s laptop. Ultimately, they needed to disappear for good. But for right now, they needed out of the area and fast. Faster than his Mustang could take them.

  He had to get Rachel home. That was the only answer. So he did a quick search for flights out of New Orleans. But then a thought occurred to him.

  “Do you have a driver’s license?” he asked Rachel.

  She shook her head.

  “Then flying isn’t an option.”

  That left two others: bus or train. But before he could make a decision, the door opened.

  “Feeling better?” Brody asked. Sunlight spilled around him and made his features dark and sinister.

  “A hundred percent,” Roc lied, slowly closing the laptop.

  “Good.” Brody raised his shades to the top of his head, and solid black eyes met Roc’s. Those eyes answered all of Roc’s questions. “I brought you a visitor.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Levi forked the hay and pitched it into the bin for the cows. The sun bloomed, its rays spreading outward like petals, which soon began to wilt beneath the heat. He whisked off his flat-brimmed straw hat and swiped his forearm across his sweaty forehead. Bits of hay and dust stuck to his skin and itched.

  It had been a long morning, and despite the warm, sunny weather, a cloud shifted across his heart. Hannah had woken early, and he’d found her praying and crying softly in their tiny kitchen. He’d tried to comfort her, but he knew firsthand no words could act as a balm to a wound in the heart.

  When he’d lost his brother, Jacob, even scripture hadn’t brought comfort. It shamed him to say so, but it was the honest truth. But he reminded himself: Hannah hadn’t lost Rachel, not yet, anyway, and he prayed she wouldn’t have to go through what he had.

  But the not knowing…the wondering…the worrying…He understood that too. If something happened to Rachel, the regrets over not warning Rachel about Akiva would torment Hannah. Already, the guilt over hiding the truth about Josef’s death clouded Hannah’s eyes and her heart, which spilled over into every relationship.

  Hannah tried to be upbeat around her mother and Katie, praying with them, sharing with them her confidence about Roc finding Rachel and bringing her home. But at night alone with Levi, her fears tumbled out, and her tears dampened his shoulder. He didn’t mind the crying. It was understandable. But the helpless feeling gave Levi a restless frustration inside.

  He heard the car motor and tires crunching the gravel before he actually saw the Detweilers’ blue four-door stop in the drive. Ben and Linda had stopped twice in the last week to inquire about Rachel. Levi appreciated folks’ interest and concern, yet as soon as the Detweilers left, Hannah’s mamm would crumple into tears. Katie would join her, hugging her mamm, tears brimming in her own eyes, and Hannah would not be far behind. Daniel, Hannah’s father, would head out to the barn and find some work to do. And Levi would be left without any recourse, without any answers.

  With a weary sigh, Levi leaned the pitchfork against the fence railing and settled his hat in a respectable manner on his head. Ben Detweiler was a kindhearted Mennonite and a good neighbor to Daniel Schmidt. He had a small farm and worked in Lancaster at the local grocery store. His wife, Linda, stayed home with their four children.

  Ben emerged from the car, and it appeared he was alone today. Levi hoped to head him off and answer his questions before any of the womenfolk saw him. But Ben must have seen Hannah’s mamm, Marta, first off, for he gave a hearty wave in her direction and started toward the laundry line where Marta and Katie were stretching a sheet out to dry. Levi quickened his pace to catch up to Ben, but before he reached the laundry line, Ben was already conversing with Marta.

  “Why, here comes Levi now,” Marta said.

  Ben turned to face Levi. He was almost Levi’s height and wore plain brown slacks and a white, short-sleeve, button-down shirt. His brown hair had been clipped short, and his green eyes were friendly. “How do, Levi.”

  “Ben.” Levi shook the man’s hand. “Nice to see you.”

  “Mind if I have a word with you?” Ben asked, his tone serious and straight to the point.

  Katie’s gaze shifted back and forth rapidly.

  Marta’s brow collapsed beneath the weight of worry. “Is anything wrong, Ben?”

  “Nah, just needed to speak to—”

  “Sure.” Relief washed over Levi. This way he could answer Ben’s questions and keep the women from getting upset. Or so he hoped. “Come on out to the barn. You can say hey to Daniel while you’re here.”

  Ben nodded to Marta and Katie. “Good to see you two. Linda says for me to tell you she’s baking today and has a blackberry cobbler with your name on it.”

  Katie grinned, and Marta said, “Danke, Ben. You tell Linda to come on any time and stay long enough to help us enjoy her fine fixings.”

  “I’ll do it.” He turned toward Levi, and together they started the walk toward the barn. They were several steps away from the women when Ben spoke. “I had a telephone call today.”

  Levi glanced sideways, and his footsteps slowed.

  Ben clapped his hand on Levi’s back and angled him toward his car. “From Rachel.”

  Levi stopped walking, but his heart galloped ahead. “Is she…? Well, if she called, then I guess she—”

  “She was all right when I spoke to her. She wanted you to call her as soon as possible. I took down the number.”

  “But”—he turned back toward Marta and Katie, who were busy hanging laundry on the line again—“shouldn’t I tell—?”

  “I think you should talk to Rachel first.”

  His heart took an uneven rhythm. “Did she say where she was? Did she say anything about…?” He couldn’t hold on to all the questions popping up in his brain like weeds. “Did she mention Roc?”

  Ben shook his head. “She didn’t say much of nothing other than for you to call her and to keep it quiet.”

  Levi frowned. He wasn’t much on keeping secrets anymore, but until he understood what was going on, a few more would do no harm.

  “Wanna hop in my car, and I’ll drive you over to my place?” Ben asked.

  It began to sink in that Rachel had actually called. She was alive. She was okay. “You really talked to her?”

  A smile creased Ben’s face.

 
A reflection of his smile spread across Levi’s own face. “This is good. Thank the Lord. This is very good news indeed.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The whispers assaulted Rachel as if they were a storm creeping over the horizon of her mind and darkening her thoughts.

  Roc’s friend, Brody, stood in the doorway, and she recognized those intense black eyes. The same as Akiva and Acacia. Brody locked gazes with her, and her world tilted precariously, as if she’d lost her footing and grip on reality.

  What had Brody meant when he said he’d brought a visitor? Just as the thought flashed, another rumbled, and then another and another, until she was struck by a downpour of fear.

  Rachel.

  Was Akiva’s voice in her head? More whispers whipped about her.

  Then BAM! A sound exploded in the room. The concussion shook her eardrums. Rachel flinched and covered her ears instinctively, but it was a half second too late. Suddenly, her ears sounded muffled as if they’d been stuffed with cotton.

  She glanced sideways at Roc. He pointed his gun toward Brody and said something, but she could see only his mouth move. Before she could scream for him to put the gun away, another BAM ricocheted around the room. This time, she wanted to cover her eyes. Bright red stain bloomed in the middle of Brody’s chest. His expression fell from confidence to shock.

  Then everything happened at once, like a tornado ripping through the apartment—crashing thunder, flashing lightning. Roc burst off the sofa, dumping the portable computer onto the floor, and lunged across the room. Brody slumped against the doorframe. Roc moved as though he had not been near death last night, like a lethal animal on attack. Jerking the leather contraption off his shoulder, he secured it around Brody, tugging him inside the apartment and slamming the door closed. The BANG of wood pulsed in her ears. Then he shoved the deadbolt lock into place.

  Brody toppled over and crashed onto the floor. As if in slow motion, he rolled over, his arms splayed outward. In the meantime, Roc secured another part of the leather strap to the leg of a chair. But Brody didn’t fight, not the way Acacia had. He blinked as if dazed and watched Roc.

  “I’m sorry, Roc.” His voice was raspy.

  “Shut up.” Roc pushed to his feet and stood over his friend, staring down at him, his chest heaving with each breath, his wounded arm hanging lax by his side.

  “I won’t fight you.”

  Roc turned away and went to the kitchen. “Rachel, get your stuff. We’re leaving.”

  But she couldn’t move. She was shaking so hard she thought she might fall to the floor.

  Roc came back to the living area, a knife in hand. His face looked pale, his demeanor no-nonsense, his gaze shielded. But Rachel saw the tremor in his fingers. Before she could ask what he was doing, he bent toward Brody and jerked the gleaming blade across Brody’s throat. The skin opened a gaping wound, and blood poured out. Rachel gasped, and her own heart faltered. Brody’s eyelids fluttered before they closed.

  Roc didn’t speak to his friend, didn’t comfort him, didn’t wait. He stumbled to his feet, crossed toward Rachel, and grabbed her arm roughly. “Let’s go.”

  “But…”

  He still held the knife. “Now!”

  And he whisked her toward the door. Her limbs stiffened and jerked crazily. Her stomach heaved. Suddenly, she was bent over, with Roc holding her forehead. She wasn’t sure if she was ill from all the blood or from fear that Akiva might be outside the door.

  Swiping a hand across her mouth, she glanced at Roc. “Where’s the knife?”

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “The knife!” Her voice shook. Her chest constricted.

  He pulled it out of his back pocket. Blood smeared the blade. She focused on it before drawing a breath and reaching for the door lock. With one more look at Roc, she asked, “You ready?”

  “As much as I’ll ever be.” He gave a nod for her to open the door.

  He stepped outside first, keeping her behind him. His muscles were tense, poised for fight or flight. When there was no threat, no one standing outside waiting for them, just the surrounding buildings and swimming pool below, he turned back.

  And she saw in his features what the last few minutes had cost him. Roc shuddered violently as he stared at his friend on the floor, blood pooling around the too-still body. Rachel placed a hand on his and helped him close the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  He’d committed the forbidden act. It branded him a traitor. An outcast. A predator. Now, they would be hunting him.

  He had become what he’d been fighting. He’d killed his friend. It didn’t matter if Brody was a vampire. He was also one of New Orleans’s own. A cop.

  Killing Brody was unthinkable. Unbelievable. Unforgivable.

  But Roc couldn’t stop for regret, to grieve Brody, or even to turn himself in.

  Helping Rachel into the passenger seat of the Mustang, he glanced around the apartment parking lot. Whom had Brody brought to visit him? Another cop? Or another vampire? Could it have been Akiva? Whoever it had been, human or vampire, fled. Or was hiding. And Roc couldn’t take the chance whoever might be lurking nearby, waiting for a chance to pounce. He had to get Rachel out of here.

  Sliding into the driver’s seat, Roc felt his body trembling and shaking in shock over the atrocity he’d committed. Now he would be a wanted man in New Orleans. Hell, everywhere. Chasing vampires was now the least of his worries. He would be chased by every police officer and law-enforcement agency.

  What would he do? Continue to run? Hide? Or turn himself in? This was not a wrong he could right. He could never explain his reasons. Who would understand or believe him? He took no pride or pleasure in the death of Brody. The only solution was turning himself in. But before he could, before he could own up to what he’d done, before he could suffer the consequences, he had to get Rachel somewhere safe.

  He tossed his cell phone in her lap and stuck the knife’s handle in her hand. Her startled gaze met his. “If Akiva finds us,” he said, “if he’s here, we cannot hesitate. We must strike him first. If I can’t, then you must. Do you understand?”

  She swallowed hard then nodded.

  He cranked the engine, shoved the gearshift into reverse, and avoided Rachel’s gaze. He couldn’t look into those blue eyes, so innocent and pure, and not see his own guilt. He’d never thought of himself as the bad guy. He’d always stood for what was right and good and tried his best even when he’d failed. But now, he detested himself.

  Brody had been changed. But when? When had it happened? While Roc was gone to Pennsylvania? Since he’d returned? The obits Brody had collected were probably his victims, which went back three or four months. Had guilt over what he had become made Brody hang on to his victims’ wallets and personal possessions, and search out the obituaries? Had the same guilt kept Brody from fighting back against Roc? Had he allowed himself to be killed? Had he wanted to die? Had he planned it?

  Roc understood hating what he’d become and believing death held the only answer, the only hope, the only relief from the pain. But whereas Roc had struggled to change, to battle the thirst for alcohol, Brody had not really had an option. How could a vampire fight what he was, the thirst burning inside him, a thirst that acted like acid?

  “Buckle up,” he told Rachel as he swerved out of the parking space, shifting gears, and tore through the parking lot.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, clutching the door.

  “I don’t know.”

  The cell phone rang, and Rachel’s eyes widened. He grabbed it, checked the number, which was not local, and punched the button. “Yeah, Roc here.”

  “Roc, I am awful glad to speak to you. Is Rachel all right?”

  Propping his elbow on the door frame, he leaned into his aching arm. “Yeah, Levi, she’s fine.”


  At least for the moment.

  A whispered “Thank the good Lord,” came over the line.

  “It’s Levi?” Rachel asked, but Roc ignored her and kept his gaze on the road. “Is Hannah there? Can I—?”

  Roc concentrated on what Levi was saying.

  “And the baby?” Levi asked. “How is—?”

  “Yes. They’re both fine.” Maybe this was divine providence. Maybe this answered all his troubling questions. He would take Rachel home. Levi would take care of her, keep her safe. She could be with her own people once more. She could be home when her baby arrived. And he would return to New Orleans and deal with the aftermath of Brody’s death.

  “Thank you, Roc,” Levi said. “We cannot thank you enough.”

  Rachel plucked at his sleeve. “Ask Levi to tell Mamm and Dat I am well.”

  Roc nodded. “Look, Levi, we’re in a fix. I need to get Rachel someplace safe. Now.” He slammed on the brakes at a red light and then swerved out of the left lane and into the right. Sitting for any length of time was not safe. He glanced at the rearview mirror but saw nothing suspicious—only cars moving along in the regular flow of traffic. But vampires didn’t need cars or usual methods of transportation. Akiva could just as easily appear in front of them. Or to the side. Or even above.

  To Levi, he said, “I’m trying to figure out the best way to get her home.” A long pause gave Roc time to give Rachel more instructions. “Keep an eye out for Akiva. Understand?”

  She gave a quick nod, her hand clasping the knife more firmly, and she twisted her head to peer out the rear window then shifted again to peer out the side windows.

  Then Roc recognized Levi’s long pause as hesitation. Or maybe the phone had gone dead. “Levi? You there?”

  “Yes, Roc, I am.”

  Something was wrong, then. “What is it?”

  The Amish man cleared his throat as if paving the way for something difficult. “I’m not sure it’s wise, your bringing Rachel here. Not if you’re being followed. Or concerned you could be. If Akiva were to come back here…how would I keep my wife, Hannah, safe? And Rachel too? You know Akiva will come here, Roc, searching for her. It will not be safe.”