Betrayed

by D. B. Reynolds

  Her words were cut off as Raphael was suddenly there, right next to her, his arm around her waist tugging her against his hard body. “Do not toy with my desires, sweet Cyn. Not tonight.” He kissed her again, his lips crushing hers, his tongue exploring her mouth.

  Cyn responded eagerly, snaking her arms around his neck, pressing herself against the long line of him. She moaned when he yanked the tie of her robe open, but then he released her abruptly, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Ah, but we’ve no time.”

  Her eyes flashed to his. “That’s cruel,” she gasped, her fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt as her body demanded more.

  “No more than you tormenting me with images of your naked body beneath a hot shower.”

  “Touché,” she granted with a groan, then raised herself onto her tiptoes and touched her lips to his. “I think we should turn in early tonight,” she whispered against his mouth. “We need to rest and recover from our earlier brush with death.”

  Raphael’s black eyes burned with silver fire. “A sensible idea,” he rumbled in his velvet voice. “Perhaps only a quick shower, then. The sooner you get back to the conference room, the sooner we can . . . rest.”

  Cyn grinned. “I’m gone, fang boy.” She gave him a hard, fast kiss, then spun around and headed out of the conference room, pausing only to blow him one final kiss before leaving. In the hallway, she ran into Juro on his way back in to see Raphael. He’d changed clothes. Or at least he’d changed his shirt and donned his regular suit jacket. And his arm was no longer hanging quite so uselessly at his side.

  “The arm?” she asked him, her eyes daring him to pretend nothing was wrong.

  “Broken,” he admitted. “Shattered,” he amended, when she raised a cynical eyebrow. “I’ve taken blood, and it’s bandaged. It will be healed by tomorrow night, Cynthia.”

  Since those were probably the most words Juro had ever spoken to her at one time, Cyn believed him. “Look at it this way, big guy,” she said, grinning when his expression tightened at her use of the affectionate nickname. “You slowed the bullet down enough that I bet we can recover it, right?”

  He nodded reluctantly, clearly aware that Raphael wouldn’t want her anywhere near this investigation. “As the door was still open, it passed through my arm and lodged in the stone of the fireplace,” he said.

  “Excellent. It won’t help us catch the guy, but it might narrow the possibilities, and it will definitely help confirm his identity once we’ve got him.”

  Another brief nod.

  “See?” Cyn said, patting his uninjured arm. “That wasn’t so bad. I’m going to change, but I’ll see you back in the conference room with the new guy, right?” She laughed and hurried down the hallway toward the room she shared with Raphael.

  Once she got there, however, she was deadly serious, punching in numbers on her cell phone as she stripped off the robe. Little bits of dirt fell from the robe and peppered the carpet, reminders of her dive to the deck with Raphael when the shooting had started. She shivered, though whether it was from cold or the memory of how close Raphael had come to being killed, she wasn’t sure. She tucked the phone against her shoulder, listening to it ring on the other end while she peeled off her clammy swimsuit. It was a clingy one-piece that she wore when doing laps. She rolled it into a wet ball, walking into the bathroom to drop it into a corner of the shower stall. The water would wash away the chlorine, which she wasn’t used to. The pool at the house in Malibu was saltwater.

  The phone stopped ringing as the call was answered. “Yo, Leighton,” Colin Murphy said cheerfully. “Boyfriend know you’re calling me?”

  “Girlfriend know you answer when I call?” she fired back.

  “Got me there. What’s up?”

  “I need some information about snipers.”

  “Planning on taking someone out? I thought you preferred to work close-up.”

  “Ha, ha. No, that’s not why—” Cyn stopped, suddenly aware that she was about to tell another vampire lord that someone had tried to assassinate Raphael. Granted, she wasn’t actually telling Sophia, but she had no doubt Colin would tell her. He was Sophia’s mate, and on top of that he was in charge of her security. Of course, he’d tell her.

  “I just the need the information,” she said quietly.

  Colin was silent a moment, then he said, “Okay. Tell me what you need.”

  Cyn pictured the wooden deck, with the infinity pool, and beyond that . . . nothing but open valley for maybe 700 yards until a rocky hillside jutted out onto the valley floor. You couldn’t even see it in the dark, but it was there. And that was the closest likely spot for the shooter to set up. Past that point, the possibilities were endless.

  “How many snipers are there who could hit a more or less stationary target at seven, eight hundred yards?”

  Colin was silent again, probably trying to figure out from her question exactly what had happened. “A lot of snipers could hit something that close, Cyn,” he said finally. “Can you narrow it down any?”

  “What do you mean? How do I narrow it down?”

  “Well, first of all, was he any good? Did he make the shot?”

  Shit. “No,” Cyn said shortly.

  “Okay,” Colin continued, unaware—or at least pretending to be unaware—of the minefield they were crossing. “Night or day? Weather? Was it raining, dry? Windy?”

  “Night, dry, no wind to speak of.”

  “Easy shot, then, if you’ve got the right gun and know how to use it. Hell, they have competitions for that kind of shot. Housewives shoot in some of them.”

  Cyn scowled. This was not what she wanted to hear. On the other hand . . . “Okay, but housewives aren’t exactly hiring themselves out as assassins. So who is?”

  “Ah, that does change it. Okay, maybe a double handful outside the military or sanctioned government squads, although some of those guys have been known to work on the side, too.”

  “If I wanted to hire someone like that, where would I look?”

  “Leighton.”

  “Murphy,” she mimicked impatiently.

  He sighed. “Dammit, all right. But there’s not exactly a snipers-r-us store, you know. Something like this would be word of mouth, not even a damn classified ad in the back of a magazine. You’d have to know the middle man, and he’d have to trust you well enough to put out feelers.”

  Cyn paused, trying to decide if there was anything between the lines of what Colin was saying. “Would something like that be localized? I mean, do snipers have territories?”

  “No, Leighton,” he said with forced patience. “We have airplanes now. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”

  She sighed heavily. “Come on, Murphy, I’m working in the dark here.”

  “Yeah,” he snarled. “I know the feeling.”

  “All right. Never mind. I’ll try something—”

  “Don’t. You’re gonna get yourself killed, and I’ll have to feel bad about it. Look, I’ll inquire discreetly. That’s a concept you’re probably not familiar with.”

  “Hey, Murphy. I was a P.I. for years. I know discreet.”

  “Uh huh. I’ll check around and get back to you. What’s your timetable?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “Naturally. I’ll do my best, and, Leighton? You be careful. If someone’s gone to the trouble of contracting this out, they mean business, and they’ve got bucks. Talent like that doesn’t come cheap.”

  “Yeah, well. I mean business, too. And I’ve got lots of money.”

  Colin laughed. “Take care of yourself, Leighton. I’d miss you if you were gone.”

  He hung up without waiting for her response. Cyn glanced at the clock, threw the phone down, and raced for the shower.

  Chapter Two

  Jared strode into the conference room and bowed deeply. “Sire,” he said, waiting until Raphael acknowledged him with a short nod before taking the seat to Raphael’s right. He nodded a greeting to Juro, who remained standing a
t Raphael’s left. The big security chief returned the greeting in kind, his expression registering no visible emotion.

  “Your mate doesn’t trust me,” Jared observed.

  “She doesn’t know you,” Raphael responded. “My Cyn is very protective, and she doesn’t trust easily.”

  “I’ve heard stories about her,” Jared said. He hurried to explain when Raphael gave him a cool stare. “High praise, my lord. And more than a little fear. The rumors concern recent events in Seattle, and before that, Arizona. I still have excellent contacts there.”

  Raphael relaxed a little and smiled ruefully. “I’ve heard the same rumors, Jared. And I’m afraid they’re all true. She has the heart of a warrior.”

  He sighed and changed the subject to one he was more willing to discuss. He knew his vampires gossiped; he knew they gossiped about him and, by extension, about Cyn. But he didn’t like it. Besides, they had more important things to discuss this evening. “You know of tonight’s assassination attempt.”

  Jared nodded. “Juro briefed me, my lord. Are we certain—”

  “That I was the target, yes. As Cyn pointed out, if she’d been the one, the assassin had multiple opportunities before I joined her.”

  “Your visit here in Grand Junction was not freely discussed, my lord, but it was not a secret, either. Your enemies would have had ample opportunity to set this up.” He leaned forward earnestly. “It cannot be a coincidence, my lord, that this happened on the very eve of Lucas’s conflict with Klemens.”

  “No, I’m certain it’s not. But why try to take me out because of it? Even within my own household there are few who know of Lucas’s relationship to me.”

  “To my knowledge, it’s only those of us who were there at the beginning, my lord,” Jared said, bowing his head briefly, as if in respect for his good fortune at having been one of those few. “Certainly no one in my Grand Junction nest knows of it, and I never heard it spoken of during my time in Arizona, either.”

  “Klemens would not need to know that you are Lucas’s Sire to know that you are Klemens’s enemy, my lord,” Juro rumbled. “And the saying, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, applies as well to vampires as to humans.”

  Jared nodded his agreement. “Klemens hates you, Sire. He always has. And if nothing else, he knows that you and Lucas are at the very least good neighbors. There have been no border disputes between you, while Klemens has argued with everyone, and disputed every inch of border on all sides of his territory. Even now, Rajmund is being forced to reassert his holdings along his western border, where Klemens had tried to take advantage of old Krystof’s dotage. And there has been violence between them. Add in your recent visit to Manhattan for Rajmund’s wedding . . . well, I’ve heard Klemens was furious when he learned of it.”

  “My Cyn and Rajmund’s Sarah are old friends. It was for her sake that we attended.”

  “But you did attend. Rajmund welcomed you to his territory, and not for the first time, either. Klemens is a suspicious old vampire, some might even say paranoid.”

  Raphael started to respond, but looked up as he sensed Cyn coming down the hallway. She stopped right outside the door and murmured something to Elke, who was standing guard. She spoke too low for even Raphael’s acute hearing. No doubt on purpose. Cyn had quickly learned how to evade his scrutiny. It was frustrating, but he also admired her cleverness and even her courage in defying him. Of course, he would never tell her that. He was still smiling at the thought when she entered the room.

  * * * *

  Cyn caught the tail end of Jared’s comment about some guy named Klemens as she drew even with Elke, who had drawn guard duty outside the door. She exchanged a few words with the female vampire, who was both friend and bodyguard, and then strode into the conference room.

  “It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you,” she offered, only partly joking as she skirted the table. She touched Juro’s arm lightly as she passed, expressing solidarity with the big Japanese vampire in the only way he’d permit, especially in front of a stranger. Because even though both Raphael and Juro seemed to know Jared well, she didn’t know him. And that made him a stranger. She’d never even heard his name before tonight.

  But she did know herself, and she knew a good part of her resentment and distrust of Jared Lincoln stemmed from an unwillingness to accept anyone in Duncan’s old position. It seemed impossible that Jared could ever step into the role that Duncan had filled for so long.

  Raphael pulled the empty chair on his left closer to his in an invitation for her to sit next to him.Cyn surreptitiously studied the new guy as she went to join Raphael. Jared was good-looking, she’d give him that. He was black, with fine, even features and coffee-colored eyes. His head was shaved, but he wore a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. It was difficult to tell when he was seated, but Cyn thought back to when she’d first seen him and guessed his height at a little over her own six foot, maybe six two or three. His shoulders were broad, and he appeared to be in excellent physical condition. But then all of Raphael’s security people were in great shape, and she’d expect no less of the vampire he’d chosen as his lieutenant. She assumed he was also smart and skilled in the martial arts, since those were two more traits common to the vampires Raphael kept closest to him.

  She became aware of Raphael watching her and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” she said somewhat breathlessly. “It took longer than I expected to shower and change.”

  Raphael eyed her steadily as she slid into her seat. He knew her too well, was too good at reading her body language and emotions. He probably suspected she’d been delayed by more than an overlong shower. And eventually she’d tell him the truth, but not in front of Jared. She didn’t know him well enough yet.

  “So who’s Klemens?” she asked, instead, repeating the name of the vamp they’d been discussing when she’d entered the room.

  “Stavros Kyriakos Klemens is Lord of the Midwest,” Jared said politely, his voice smooth and melodic. The kind of voice that made her think he could probably sing well.

  “Jared,” Raphael said, “I don’t believe you’ve been introduced to my mate, Cynthia Leighton. My Cyn, this is Jared Lincoln, one of my own and a longtime trusted member of my staff.”

  Cyn didn’t miss the not-so-subtle hint of those last few words. Raphael knew she didn’t trust Jared and was telling her he did trust the vamp. Moreover, he was telling her she better be polite. Or at least that he’d like her to be. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, swallowed the deep sigh that would have gone along with the eye roll, and smiled pleasantly.

  “Jared,” she said, acknowledging the introduction with a nod.

  “Ms. Leighton,” he responded, his dark eyes dancing with humor.

  Well, at least he had a sense of humor. That would certainly come in handy if he was going to live in Malibu with the rest of them.

  “Call me Cyn. So, Stavros Kyriakos I know as Lord of the Midwest, but Klemens? Where did that come from?” she asked, moving on to the matter at hand. She switched her gaze from Jared to Raphael.

  “Klemens is his only true name. He took the other because he thought it more grand, more suited to his current position.”

  “More suited to his self-image,” Jared amended dryly. “Klemens was born and raised in Chicago. He was a university student of Greek history at the time of his turning, hence the grand name for himself.”

  “I see. But why does he want Raphael dead? And why send a sniper? If he’s after territory, doesn’t he need to kill you himself?”

  “Not necessarily,” Raphael responded. “But in any event, I don’t believe he’s after my territory.”

  “Not that he wouldn’t take it, given the chance,” Jared interjected.

  Raphael waved a dismissive hand. “He could never hold it. I can name ten of my people offhand who could defeat him and take it for themselves if he succeeded in killing me. In fact—”

  “Okay,” Cyn interrupted, wanting them to stop
talking. Just the thought of Raphael dying made her heart hurt. She put a hand to her chest as if to rub away the ache. Raphael reached over and took the hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss, as if he understood the cause of her disquiet.

  “He will not succeed, lubimaya. You will not be rid of me that easily.”

  Cyn met his gaze, then looked away. When she turned her attention back to Jared, she was all business.

  “So then, why go after Raphael at all?”

  She caught Jared’s quick questioning glance at Raphael, as if asking how much he could say. She supposed it was unusual for a human woman to be involved in the grim discussion of who was trying to kill someone and why. Even more unusual when the someone being hunted was her mate and a vampire lord.

  Raphael squeezed the hand he was still holding. “Cyn is my closest advisor, Jared, and a skilled investigator. You may share whatever details or speculation we have.”

  “Very well, my lord,” Jared acknowledged. “We can only speculate, Ms. Leighton,” he began, but Cyn immediately interrupted him.

  “Call me Cyn,” she repeated. “Or just Leighton if you prefer. The whole Ms. thing gives me hives.”

  Raphael breathed a long suffering sigh, and she turned to him with an unrepentant grin, dipping her head briefly to his shoulder.

  Jared gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Well . . . Cyn,” he managed. “We believe Klemens is worried that Lord Raphael will assist Lucas if they go to war. Or, I should probably say ‘when’ since war is almost certain to start between them any day now.”

  “Lucas is the Plains Lord, right?” she clarified, with a questioning glance at Raphael. “His territory is between you and Klemens?”

  “More or less,” Raphael confirmed. “Klemens has been provoking this war for some time, but Lucas has been forced to hold back, only putting out fires, so to speak, along their border.”

  “What’s holding him back?” Cyn asked curiously. “Is he too weak for a full-scale war?”