by Jackie Ivie
“I have to go.”
Fair enough. He’d figure it out. There were safe houses throughout the world, including Canada. Calgary alone had three of them. She’d had his meal delivered somehow. And that meant civilization wasn’t out of reach.
“We flew, right? Please don’t tell me you flew and carried me. I weigh at least twice what you do. I’ll have to turn in my man-card.”
He flicked a glance to her upper lip, barely avoided eye contact and the searing vision of her nakedness. His breath shuddered through him. His attempt at humor fell flat. She wasn’t telling him anything and everything about her aroused him against his will. He was in luck he hadn’t removed the bottom half of her attire. It was better to keep talking, fishing for information.
“I’m going to guess you put me on a commercial flight. No…that can’t be right. I was unconscious, and you’d have a hell of a time getting through security. You’re not photographable. You’d be a TSA nightmare.”
“If you need anything you have but to ask. I’ll return as soon as I can. I promise.”
“Who am I asking? And how? I’m a prisoner, remember?”
She ran a fingernail along his arm to his shoulder. He didn’t watch. It was enough that she raised goose bumps on him with the motion. “Oh. Use the com-link button. There’s one near every door. It connects with my staff.”
“You have a staff?” Jesus. He could be in a nest of vampires. He’d have to rig up a cross or something.
“I really need to go. Akron does not like to be kept waiting.”
Akron? The head vampire? She was in contact with the CEO of the Vampire Assassin League? Garrick had never been so close, and if he stayed near her, he’d get even closer. Maybe close enough to get in a one-in-a-million shot. He blinked a couple of times while he considered it, searching out the wall buttons she’d spoken of, while avoiding everything to do with her.
Akron was so near. It was almost enough to abort his escape plans. Almost.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You took your time answering. And a bust line like that doesn’t need that much effort.”
Angelique tipped the screen six degrees upward. It was the optimal position for viewing and got any watching eyes on her face. Of course there wouldn’t be any. Akron never got in view of a camera, even their specially filtered ones that could find and define a vampire’s electrical field. He was also fishing. She wore a high-necked lace-edged Victorian blouse. And it was fully buttoned. Fully.
“You’ll need to forgive me. I had to prepare.”
“Trouble up there?”
“Why would you think that?”
“I got a report from Nigel. He took more than three days to deliver it. I don’t suppose you asked him to stall for time?”
“No.”
“Good. Then he can reap the punishment.”
“But, why? Last I saw he was leading hunters away from my position. Why should that gain punishment?”
“He left you. Injured. Alex dead. And in a precarious position.”
“I can handle myself.”
“You’re a babe in the woods, Angel. Always have been. Killing makes you shudder. No matter how many years pass, and how much fluid you drain. It’s that upbringing of yours. That’s why I pair you with another operative. Always.”
“Nigel saved me.”
He cleared his throat. “Forget Nigel. He’s fine. Spending some time learning from The Crusader, and then I’m testing him again. Besides, Nigel’s desertion is not why I called.”
“No?”
“I was worried.”
“You? Worried?”
“Why don’t we just cut the chatter and you tell me what I need to know.”
“I don’t…know what that is.” She still had trouble lying. Maybe he wouldn’t spot the hesitation.
“The minor detail we’re leaving out here.”
“Detail?”
“Where is he?”
“Who?” She was getting better at lying. Maybe. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation, although the word was slightly higher pitched than normal.
“I’m already debating sending a 4-D Team up there, Angel. Don’t play me. Where is your hunter?”
“He’s not a hunter. He’s my mate.”
“Nigel told me and I’m still not buying it. My little angel claiming that murderer? Even owning for the law of opposite attraction, it’s out of the range of consideration. The man’s their best killer. He loves taking out women. And mated pairs. Has two pair kills to his credit already. You getting this?”
“I think it’s three. He had three patches, anyway.”
“Angel!”
“He’s my mate, Akron. It wasn’t like I wanted it. Not then, anyway.” Her voice went dreamy as she remembered. Tingled. And then swallowed.
“That better not sound like I think it sounds. I’ll personally take him out.”
“You’d do that to me?”
“Somebody’s got to save you.”
“There’s no saving about this. There’s no changing it. There’s no altering it. You’re the one that told me about mates. How…when I found the being fated to be with me, I’d just know. I’d be complete. My entire soul would awaken to the ecstasy only mates can provide. It would be the closest thing to paradise imaginable. And it is.”
“He’ll kill you, Angel. It’s in his DNA.”
“He already tried. He can’t. We’re mates, Akron. I swear it. You always told me how it would feel, and you were right! It’s not something I can fight. He can’t, either…although it’s taking him a bit longer to realize it.”
“This will end badly, Angel. There’s no other path open to the man.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Garrick Wolfgar Von Holstaad. Twenty-seven. Six foot, four, two hundred twenty-one pounds. In spectacular physical condition. Benches 410. Runs the 60 meter dash in 6.8 seconds. Can do push-ups and sit-ups and pull-ups for hours on end. Perfect diet. Perfect stats on his blood-work. Sleeps exactly 6.2 hours every day, strength and agility exercising four hours, spends three more on weapons and combat training. Honed to killing strength and weight and speed. Orphaned at birth and left at the hospital. Norwegian mother, father not listed. Probably some stuck-up British lord. Family never claimed him. Poor kid. Life in an orphanage isn’t a bed of roses. That’s where Lord Beethan found and fostered him. Von Holstaad was six. Unloved. Unwanted. Impressionable. And hungry. Got turned into a killing machine. I don’t think he has a heart. And if he does, it’s rotten. How am I doing?”
“Anyone can change. You know that.”
“There’s something even he doesn’t know, Angel. It’s the real reason Beethan found him and took him in.”
“What?”
“His mother didn’t die because of the birth. She was a mugging victim. Margolis came upon her and then showed his stupidity. He says he gave her his fluid to try and save her. It might have worked if she hadn’t gone into labor…and if the authorities hadn’t decided to arrest him. That’s how I got involved actually. I had to post his bail.”
He stopped as if waiting for her to insert words. So, she did, although they were whispered. “Garrick didn’t feed from one of us?”
“He got half-turned in the womb. He was always gifted.”
“It wasn’t another vampire?” Her voice was back.
“Jealous?”
“Appalled. And angered. Margolis should be warned.”
“You can’t hurt a fly.”
“He’s my mate, Akron. Mates have no secrets. How am I to prevent him from knowing this?”
“Maybe I just told you so he will know it.”
“What?”
He sighed so heavily, it made a boom sound through his mic. “You say he’s your mate. You say he can change. You say he has a heart. Or did I get anything wrong?”
“Non. I said all that.”
“Then, maybe I’ve decided to help your cause. If he has a heart, it got played with long before you came alo
ng. I’ll warn Margolis, although he may have saved Von Holstaad. I’ll let Old Beethan worry over the rest. But first things first. I have a business to run. That’s why I called. I need you.”
“But—.”
“The contract will be in Vegas. Tonight. The Palace. You leave in an hour. Len is your contact.”
“Isn’t there anyone else?”
“All right. I’ll give you an hour and a half. Be ready. Angelic-looking. That will certainly stand out in Vegas.”
He was chuckling at his wit when the screen went blank.
o0o
He didn’t have to escape. It didn’t even require breaking a sweat. He didn’t resort to semantics, either, because after she told him she was leaving him to his own devices for the rest of the evening, she didn’t even ask for his vow not to try and escape. She might’ve assumed he was so overcome by their lovemaking episode, it was a given. Or maybe that was what got reflected to him in the liquid warmth of her beautiful eyes when they’d glossed over with unshed tears. Or maybe she just thought her little castle creation was inescapable.
No. No. And no.
Garrick had waited a full thirty minutes after she’d disappeared before acting. It was almost too easy. He’d found the wardrobe rooms and donned another outfit - he’d be a moving target in English hunting attire - and then he’d gathered a few essentials: The steak knife got added to his razor for obvious reasons; he cut away a section of her copper tubing for signaling or electrical potential. It also worked well as a make-shift cross; a set of long shoelaces and one of her special-made pairs of pantyhose would go a long way for strangling purposes…and then he returned to the main room and pressed one of the buttons. The moment he did that, he’d gotten linked with a fellow named Alphonse. Alphonse. She had a male in her home named Alphonse. Garrick hoped he was security. With a name like that, it was going to be a pleasure to disarm him.
Garrick had already planned his escape. He cemented it as he laced his boots. The only possible route was down. There had to be a staircase, and if he got someone to report to the room, he’d force them to show him the way out. Garrick might not even kill the person if they cooperated. Depended mostly on affiliations. Vampires were dying. Humans? That would depend on whether they stood in Garrick’s way or not.
None of his plan was needed. The moment he asked Alphonse for a trip to the airstrip, he scented freedom. Once they exited the elevator, he felt it. The ride to the airstrip took exactly twelve minutes at a non-constant speed that averaged 30 mph. It was within five miles. Even with the windows blackened in the vehicle, he could tell. Once there he got more surprise. She didn’t just have a private jet. She had a hangar full of options. Garrick chose a Gulfstream 510, ordered the driver to drop him at the door, and informed the attendants he’d be piloting it himself. Solo. And they’d acceded without one bit of argument.
Garrick didn’t believe women still came who were as gullible as this Angelique. He shouldn’t feel so damn guilty. She had to know all’s fair in love and war. And this sure as hell couldn’t be love.
CHAPTER NINE
Something didn’t feel quite right.
It wasn’t the set-up. Len had certainly done his job, and she looked the part. Their target tonight was Pedro Ramon el Rodriguez. The name meant little to her. She was just grateful it wasn’t a political hit. Those carried too much weight. Countries could be lost and history altered with the removal of politicians, and nobody seemed to win. Maybe it was true. Treason was just a matter of timing.
This man was a drug cartel boss from somewhere in South America. He was just another man in a long string of them the Vampire Assassin League contracted to take out. Len had already joked how it was a constant source of money, since every time they took out one of these guys, another one took his place. They never seemed to learn. It seemed the position came with a whetted sense of vengeance that led to another contract, more money, and another blood feast. It was like the ‘Golden Goose’ that never stopped paying.
This Pedro fellow was a very nice-looking man…for a drug lord. Angelique had been shown his pictures, taken at all kinds of angles with very long range lenses. Even distorted, the man was extremely handsome. Young. Late twenties or early thirties. Chiseled features. Dark-hair. Sexy eyes. Muscled. He wore very little around his pool, sometimes nothing. She flipped through half a dozen photos taken swimming. Stupid man. If a lens could get these photos, a long-range sniper could’ve, too. She’d passed over them with barely a glance. She didn’t want to study him. She didn’t even want to look at him.
His luck had run out. Pedro was in Vegas looking for a good time. He’d rented an exclusive, very expensive club for his own pleasure and that of his friends. He’d brought his own entertainment: A singer that hadn’t been half-bad, and a band that played floor-thumping music. He hadn’t even contacted anyone for some high paid escorts. He’d brought his own gaggle of giggling gorgeous girls – as Len called them. Smart. The man hadn’t left anything to chance.
He hadn’t counted on Len, though.
Angelique smoothed a bit of her riotous curls back into place. A three hour session at the salon had netted her a cloud of white-blond curls that seemed to echo wings. They left her face unadorned, adding only the slightest touch of mascara to her lashes and a bit of clear gloss to her lips. She’d been fitted into a silver metallic band-aid dress that ended just above the knees. It was so tight they’d had to put a film of baby powder on her to slide it on. Platform glitter heels with clear straps lifted her off the floor, while the tiara atop her head would’ve been worth millions if it had been real. She had a sash proclaiming her “Miss University”, but they pinned it in place to hide the last three letters. She was to act like a newly crowned beauty queen. She looked more like a really sexy angel. The beautician staff had been in raves over her.
She was meant to stop traffic, or in this case, a party. It showed. But it all felt so wrong. She’d done this hundreds of times, yet now it felt uncomfortable. Sinful. Maybe a bit evil. Someone should have warned her how different it would feel when she was in love. Being with Garrick meant life and love and wonder to her. Using her face and form to attract another male was the exact opposite.
She belonged to Garrick now. She didn’t want anyone ogling her, starting with the slack-jawed look she got from Len when she stepped from the limo. His whistle had been cut off by a quick hand to the back of his neck. She had Akron to thank. He’d sent her not just Athlerod, but Ethelstone as well. The Icelandic duo pretended to be her bodyguard. The identical twins looked like pro wrestlers in their matching form-fitted tuxedoes, their hair pulled back into queues, and lumps beneath their coats showing weaponry. They didn’t need it. It was for show. They fully expected to be picked over and disarmed, and had to wear the equipment to back up the act.
So now they all stood, waiting behind the smoked glass wall at the foyer. Len had greased enough palms to get them in. He’d even paid for a bit of crashing cymbals when she appeared. Angelique took a deep breath. Now, it was her turn.
“You ready?”
It was Len. She frowned up at him.
“What?”
“Of course she is ready. As are we.”
Len took a look at the men flanking her, and then ran his eyes down her body again. The man on her right growled and Len backed up, both hands in the air.
“All right. All right. Let’s go, then. Showtime.”
He looked like the weasel he was portraying, especially with his hair holding a ton of grease and slicked back behind his ears. That was another lie. The man was deadly accurate with any weapon, and eternally loyal. But human.
They stepped in, the music stopped, and a cymbal crashed to the floor. All conversation ceased, although the disco ball kept rotating atop the dance floor, and a glass dropped somewhere. Someone put a solitary spotlight on her, too.
“Madre de Dios!”
The exclamation came from one of the dancers, who turned into Pedro Ramon el Rodriguez as he
twirled his partner out of his arms and turned to Angelique. From all around him, male bodies swarmed, encircling her, Len, and the twins. She didn’t move her eyes from the target. Swishing sounds of clothing and grunts meant the men were getting disarmed, and then Len was in front of her, blocking Pedro.
“Uno momento, Senor?”
“Who are you? What do you want?”
The man was more incredibly handsome than his photos, especially up close. He should be a male model, not a murderous leader of thugs. Len cleared his throat.
“I’m the lady’s uh…promotion manager.”
“What is her name? I must be introduced!”
“Not so fast. There’s the matter of…”
Len’s voice went to a whisper while he must be asking for some enormous sum. Angel kept her eyes steadfastly on Pedro. It made her skin ripple with unpleasant shivers. He may be a beautiful man, but it was only on the surface.
“Whatever you say! You have brought me an angel from heaven! Manuel, order more champagne! Allow the lady’s men some room! And you! Lucida! Move. I must speak with this gift.”
“Gift?”
Angelique whispered it with a breathless tone. It wasn’t an act. The man was taller than she expected, even with her six-inch platforms on, and he exuded some sort of mesmerizing force. It was self-confidence combined with assurance, dosed with sex appeal. The seat this Lucida moved from was on a couch. Right next to him. The unpleasant sensation deepened as he poured her a flute of champagne she ignored.
“Come. You must make a toast with me. It is not every day heaven opens up and sends one of its own down here. Come. A toast. To your beauty.”
Angelique lifted her eyes to his and widened them just slightly. “But I do not drink.”
He grinned, and then lifted her hand to his lips. The kiss was even worse contact. That’s exactly when she decided not to take any of his blood. The others could have him.
“Where on earth could you have been hiding? Or perhaps it’s not the earth. Even the real Miss Universe could not be as you are.”
