by Kiersten Fay
Mason and the officer shared another look.
“I recall that gathering,” Mason said. “The Montgomery’s home is like a fortified castle. We couldn’t get a man inside. Do you remember the names of everyone who had attended?”
“I was introduced to them all at once earlier that night, but I hadn’t been able to memorize all their names. I might be able to identify some of their faces, but you could just ask the Montgomerys.”
Once more the two men locked eyes.
“What?” She glanced between them.
Mason sighed. “The Montgomery home was infiltrated at the same time those assassins came for your husband.”
“Oh my goddess. Are they…?”
“Dead.” He said it as though he were discussing the weather.
“Hold on, now,” the officer bit out. “I’m not ready for that information to be made public.”
Mason ignored him. He seemed to be gauging her reaction, and she thought she knew why. “Am I a suspect?”
“You would be, if your home hadn’t been targeted as well.”
Her head jerked up, and she again met his intense gaze. “Targeted?”
“The operation was carried out with military precision. Synchronized to perfection. Every suspected conspirator, and several we didn’t even think to add to the list, was executed.”
“Mace,” the officer hissed. “Would you shut your mouth?”
“She’s not involved in any of it,” Mason replied.
“And what makes you so sure? Her home was attacked, but she was conveniently away at the time.”
“About the time Winston married her, tainted blood was circulating through the black market. People were dying from it. I believe he needed someone to test his product on before distributing it to his rich friends.” He gestured toward her.
Her frown grew more pronounced.
Was that all she was? A guinea pig?
She had always wondered why Winston had chosen to marry her when he was constantly surrounded by beautiful, sometimes too obviously willing, women of his own class. Gullible guinea pig made too much sense.
The officer shook his head. “That’s just your opinion until all the evidence is examined.”
Mace shrugged. “Right now, there is no evidence. No leads. Only her.”
The officer sighed. “Ms. Gordon, is there anything else you can tell us? Did your husband ever mention anything about his little side business?”
“No. Never.”
He stood as if to leave. “If you think of anything, I won’t be far. Someone will be by to take a sample of your blood and then you’ll be free to go.”
“Actually, she’ll be coming with me.”
Cora gaped at Mason.
The officer paused and swiveled his head in the same direction. His jaw tightened, and she thought he might protest.
Please protest.
Mace became stern, as did Trent, their expressions hardening. The three seemed to be having a silent conversation. Or a battle for dominance. If the VEA wanted her, she couldn’t imagine there was anything the officer could do.
Apparently, he’d come to the same conclusion. “She’ll be released into your custody once we get the sample.”
“What does that mean, released into his custody?” She gripped the edge of the table as if she could bolt herself in place.
“This is a VEA investigation,” the officer informed her. A bit of pity seeped out with his words. “We’re only providing assistance.”
She leaned forward. “You can’t let them take me.”
“Sorry, little lady.” He hiked his thumb at Mason, pity quickly evaporating. “These guys are in charge. You know that.”
She did. Since they’d revealed themselves to the world one hundred years ago, the vampires had graciously allowed the human institutions to proceed with almost no interruption, but there was no illusion that vampire law didn’t overrule human law, which was the underlining cause of most of the uprisings.
“But he’ll kill me,” she muttered. Anyone caught with illegally obtained vampire blood was dealt a swift death. No trial necessary.
“I’ve no intention of killing you,” Mason proclaimed.
Terror dropped her heart into her stomach. Then what did they plan for her? She knew first hand that surviving in the custody of a vampire could be even worse than death.
“Can’t I stay here…in a human jail until all this is sorted out?”
Mason narrowed his gaze. “No, you can’t.” Then he addressed the officer in a demanding tone. “Fetch the person to administer the blood test. I want to be on our way.”
The officer’s features pinched slightly, almost like a sneer, but not quite. He left without a word.
Cora kept her eyes lowered to the table. Her tone came out no more than a whisper. “Please. I don’t want to go with you.”
The vampires made no response, which was answer enough.
Chapter 3
“Can’t I at least get my suitcase from out of my trunk?” Cora pleaded, wanting more than anything to change into normal clothing.
She stood, hopelessly, in the police station garage, next to the same black car that had brought her here.
Mace opened the passenger side door for her. “Your vehicle and everything inside it is considered evidence at the moment. I’m afraid it will take some time to clear it.”
She glanced longingly to her left, down the sidewalk that fronted the police station. A brief, ridiculous fantasy of making a run for it trickled through her mind.
She wouldn’t even make it a step.
Mace waited, seemingly patient, for her to get into the car. Something in his expression told her he knew the way of her thoughts and was somewhat amused.
As she settled in the car, she wrung her fingers nervously while Mace walked around the front and took the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life with the turn of the key. The sound was like an ominous prelude to an execution.
She wondered briefly where Trent was. He’d allowed Mace alone to escort her out of the police station while remaining behind with the human authorities.
In the small space of the car, sitting so close to Mace, Cora automatically reverted back to the mindset that kept her alive during her time with Edgar. She forced her lungs to work slow and even. She tilted her head down, and went as still as a possum. From the corner of her eye she saw Mace shoot her a sidelong glance before putting the car into drive.
“Put your seatbelt on,” he ordered.
She yanked the strap across her body and snapped it into place, then returned her hands to her lap just as he pulled onto the street. A moment of silence followed. She kept her eyes on her hands.
She felt the car speed up, slow down, stop, then speed up again, but never looked up, never glanced out the window.
After a long while of quiet driving, Mace said casually, “Are you trying to make me forget you’re there?”
Her chin jerked slightly, but she made no response.
“Believe me. Nothing could accomplish that.”
She swallowed, keeping her eyes downcast.
“Where did you learn to do that, anyway?”
Her heart stuttered, and silence crushed the space around them.
“Well, anyway, you don’t have to do that. I’m not a threat to you.”
He took the highway on-ramp, heading out of town. She prayed he would stop trying to engage her in conversation, but she wasn’t so lucky.
After another stretch of silence, he said, “Don’t you have questions about where we’re going? Why you’re with me? How long we’ve been watching you? You can ask me whatever you like.”
She was sick with curiosity, but she shook her head.
“It’s going to be a dull ride then, and we have a ways to go.”
He paused as if that should have been enough to entice her into asking. He obviously wanted to tell her, so why didn’t he just get on with it?
He sighed. “I have loads of questions f
or you, but I don’t want this to feel like an interrogation. You’re a witness, not a suspect. You’re no one’s captive.”
“Then let me go,” she heard herself reply, instantly regretting her desperate tone.
“She speaks,” he said on a chuckle. “And where would you go?”
She thought about that for a moment. There was only one place she could go, the large home she had shared with Winston. Thinking of him now sent a flurry of mixed emotions through her heart.
“You can’t go home,” Mason said, as if reading her mind. “Aside from the fact that assassins broke in with too much ease…specifically to murder you, I might add—”
“Why me? Weren’t they just looking for Winston?”
“They knew exactly where Winston would be. No, they were looking for you. Still might be. These people, whoever they are….well, it’s like they’re cleaning up their entire operation, or perhaps eliminating the competition. We’re not quite sure yet. Whatever the reason, they left no loose ends. None but you.” He shot her a look. “It was more than Winston and the Montgomerys. All our suspects were targeted, and then some. Entire families were executed, children included. You can’t go back there.”
He allowed her a moment to take that in.
“But aside from all that,” he continued, “Winston wrote you out of his will the moment you said ‘I do.’
Her head snapped up. He met her bemused expression with one of complete seriousness.
“That prenup you signed waved away any claim you might have had to Winston’s wealth. He had already prepared his will before the honeymoon was over. In case of his death, the money, the cars, the three homes? It all gets split between his blood relatives. You get nothing.”
A deep chasm of despair crashed in her chest. “You could be making that up.”
“You know I’m not. Not after all you’ve learned today about your rat-bastard husband.”
The venom with which Mason ended his sentence was shocking. Almost as shocking as the realization that she was now back where she’d started. Street urchin. Worse, actually—a street urchin who’d drawn the attention of the largest vampire organization known to man.
Tears billowed, quickly drenching her cheeks. Even if the vampires didn’t kill her, going back to the streets might. She was too different now. Not only did she look like a whale—street slang for a female of means—but now she knew, really knew, what it was like to live without fear, in a soft, safe bed, not having to sleep with one eye open. Not worrying every minute of every day where her next meal would come from or having to beg for coins while trying not to resort to more desperate acts like the ladies who lined up on corners at night.
Mason said nothing as she quietly sobbed.
“You must think I’m despicable,” she stammered.
“Why would I?”
“Because I’m crying more for losing the money than losing Winston.”
Mason laughed. “I think you’re a survivor. You married that bastard because you had no other prospects. You did it to get out of a terrible situation. Anyone would’ve done the same.”
She sniffed, a little taken aback. “I did care for him in the beginning.”
“Of course you did.”
His tone grated. “I did. He was sweet and generous at first. He didn’t make me feel inferior. I truly thought he loved me.” She buried her face in her hands. “I feel so stupid.”
Mason cursed. “Don’t cry. That shithead isn’t worth it.”
She worked to get control before Mason grew irritated with her. And though it was bound to happen eventually, she wanted to delay seeing Mason when he’d lost his patience. Vampires were unpredictable in the best of moods.
“Did you know him or something?” she asked. “The way you talk about him, it’s almost as if you hold a grudge.”
Mason pursed his lips, and his eyes narrowed on the road.
“Forget it. I don’t want to know. In fact, I want to know as little as possible about all of this.”
“I’m afraid that’s a fantasy, sweetheart. You already know more than enough.”
Anxiety crawled along her skin, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re under our protection until we say otherwise. I’m taking you to a safe house.”
A hard ball of dread pushed down on her stomach, making her nauseous. A safe house? A prison was more like it. He was going to drive her somewhere isolated and keep her there until…well, as long as he wanted.
He must have noticed her distress because he said, “You don’t need to fear me. I’ve been assigned to keep you safe. No harm will come to you as long as you’re in my charge.”
She just kept from rolling her eyes. A vampire’s idea of harm varied greatly from that of a human’s. Before his death, Edgar had sworn to his commanding officer he’d done nothing to harm her. The commander hadn’t even looked twice at the marks on her wrists and neck.
The scars were healed now. That was the miraculous thing about vampire bites. The evidence of them never lasted.
Mason transferred to the left lane to pass a slow-moving vehicle.
Cora turned her head to watch a graveyard of tree husks rush past. They were almost out of the upper class zone, St. Stamsworth, founded just after a devastating fire had toppled the original city. She’d heard this outer area used to be part of a national forest, boasting an array of wildlife and lush greenery. Whatever weaponry had been used during the first of the uprisings now kept any new growth from springing up out of the black-charred soil, even though Lake Tahoe still sat full as ever.
“Why were you offered vampire blood?” Mason drew her attention away from the scenery.
“Excuse me?”
“Back at the precinct, you said you’d never tasted vamp blood even when it was offered to you.”
“I, uh…” She didn’t want to talk about this with him. She often feared she’d somehow be blamed for Edgar’s death. “It was a long time ago. I don’t even remember the circumstances.”
Mason frowned. “We vampires have what you humans might call a fable. Long ago, two vampires befriended a human female, and took her under their protection. She grew to care for them both, but over time, the human fell in love with one of the vampires. However, she discovered that both the vampires felt the same for her. Wishing not to hurt the one she considered only a friend, she claimed no love for either. Late one night, in secret, she went to her beloved, and the other vampire caught the two together. He became so enraged he ripped both their throats out.”
Cora gasped. Why would he offer such a gruesome story? Was he threatening her? “Are you suggesting humans are deceitful or just confirming that vampires are ruthless?”
“I’m saying lies could get us both killed.”
She watched his profile for a moment, and then slumped back in the chair. Vampires were always too perceptive. Most of them were walking lie detectors. “It’s inconsequential, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It sounds very consequential.”
She cringed away from him.
“Oh, now don’t start that disappearing act again—”
Crunch.
A hard jolt shattered Cora’s equilibrium.
The car listed to the side. The world tilted. Her hair fell over her face, hovering there oddly, as if defying gravity. The seatbelt pulled tightly against her chest, nearly cutting off her air supply. And the world outside the car folded over on itself, the ground kaleidoscopeing in all directions. Her body jerked painfully, and agony speared her skull.
The car slid on its roof to a stop, but her body still felt like it was rolling. Muffled curses echoed through her brain. Warm liquid leaked into her eyes and blurred her vision. Where was Mace? Had he rolled the car on purpose? The driver seat was empty. Had he jumped out of the car, hoping the crash would kill her and end his babysitting stint?
“Cora?” Mason’s voice sounded from outside. The passenger side door creak
ed open and then was nearly ripped from its hinges.
She closed her eyes, expecting the final blow of death.
“Cora, are you alright? Can you move?”
“Mace, I don’t want to die.”
“I know, sweetheart. Tell me, can you move your arms and legs?”
“I think so.”
“I’m going to cut the seatbelt and pull you out. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He didn’t wait for a response, and she tried not to cry out when he extracted her from the vehicle and laid her on the gravel. “Someone rammed us off the road,” he explained, looking around. “They kept driving, but they could be back any minute. Are you okay to walk?”
“I think gas leaked all over me,” she said instead of answering. She lifted her arm and wiped along her forehead. When she pulled her arm away, red coated her sleeve. She couldn’t make sense of it. Red gasoline? “Oh, goddess.”
“Shh. It’s not as bad as you think,” he said, but his eyes went tight with worry.
Something like a giggle escaped her. “Lies could get us both killed,” she mocked, then laughed harder. She stopped when pain and dizziness cut into her brain. The harsh bite of exhaust and burning rubber tortured her lungs, and she coughed violently.
Her vision wavered.
“Damn, you’re out of it.” Mace helped her sit up.
He cinched one arm under her legs, the other around her back, then carried her from the crash site, laying her back down a few yards away.
Kneeling next to her, he retrieved his phone from his pocket and tapped Trent’s name under his contacts. The line rang once, and then Trent answered, “You miss me already?”
“We have a problem.”
Trent went silent and waited for him to continue.
“Someone just side-swiped us off the road, a black SUV, tinted windows.”
“License plate?”
“I didn’t get a chance to write it down while I was death-rolling,” Mace snapped.
“Alright, untwist your panties. Is the girl okay?”
He glanced down at Cora. Her face was locked in a grimace, and blood gushed from her head wound. The sweet scent of it had his fangs descending; a purely unintentional, primal response.
