For Richer (Vampire Assassin League Book 24)

by Jackie Ivie

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. Allow me to finish the explanations for Mister Godfather here. The hit on Anne Masters was a set-up. The Hunters paid for it, which is unethical and illegal, but perhaps they thought they’d be able to protect her. And I think they considered her collateral damage. They are very smart. They tagged you and almost had you. And they would have if they hadn’t started sending Hunters to your neck of the woods all at once. That’s what alerted us. We had to do some intensive research to figure it out. They have a new system. They call it Python. Nigel discovered it some time ago. That’s where we found the signal. And then we spent quite a bit of time trying to alert you...but you were otherwise occupied. Obviously.”

  “Oh.” Mikhal flushed. And then he grinned.

  “I am so sorry, man,” Nigel said. “This is all my fault.”

  “Before you continue castigating yourself, Nigel, I think you should know something.”

  “What?”

  “Mikhal has a joker side to his personality. That’s why I chose him. The natives call it ‘taking coup.’ With Mikhal it was almost an art form.”

  “Taking what?”

  “Coup. Think of it as a deadly form of punking someone. If you humiliate or ‘egg on’ your opponent, it makes the victory sweeter. Mikhal was the best warrior in his clan. And then his luck ran out. That’s why his mortal life ended. He was a bit extreme. He turned his back on an opponent when he shouldn’t have.”

  “And this mutes my responsibility...how?”

  “I’m guessing the Hunter would not have been able to hit him with a tracking device if he hadn’t somehow been seen long enough to give them a target. Isn’t that right, Mikhal?”

  “Well. I...”

  Akron chuckled. “Exactly as I suspected. Well. You might be safe. We aren’t sure yet. Do you have a contingency plan in the event we have to destroy the summit of that mountain?”

  “All that gold? All the artifacts? Is that really necessary?” Nigel asked.

  “They’re buried deep enough they’ll be safe, Nigel. What do you take me for? Mikhal? Contingency location?”

  “Of course. Watchextica in Guatemala.”

  “Never heard of it,” Nigel said.

  Akron answered. “Of course you haven’t. Nobody has. It’s a Mayan city. As yet undiscovered. Hidden. Except from us. Can you keep your mate hidden in the immediate future, Mikhal?”

  Mikhal closed his eyes for a moment. Envisioned her in the shower. Quaked oddly.

  “Hello? Mikey?”

  Nigel’s voice inserted into his consciousness.

  “Oh. Yes. Sorry. Yes. I can keep her hidden.”

  Akron answered. “Good. Then this call is over. Keep your cell phones handy. And this time, answer the damn things.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The call ended. His monitor went black. He grabbed up a pack of slim phones. Looked for a place to stow them on his kilt. Shook his head. He didn’t even have an arm or leg band left.

  Looks like he had to make a stop at his room before reaching Becky.

  CHAPTER TEN

  She should pinch herself. Somehow get out of this dream. And then hope like hell that Mikhal wasn’t just a figment of an over-active single woman’s imagination. Because she was already head-over-heels here. Or something equally as drastic. Even if love was an impulse-driven biological reaction to stimuli, she couldn’t discount the physiological symptoms that happened to her from just thinking of him. Her body warmed. Her heart beat faster. All kinds of parts tingled and throbbed.

  And that decided her. She could wait to wake up from this fantasy. What did it harm? Besides, Mikhal said he had a khipu collection. He’d promised her a look. Why break out of this dream before she got to see them?

  Or maybe this wasn’t a dream.

  Maybe it was much worse.

  Maybe she’d had some sort of accident or seizure and was in a medically induced coma while they waited for her brain to heal. She’d seen that plot device used more than once in a fictional series. Maybe that’s what was happening here. Anything else was too unbelievable. It might as well be an alien abduction.

  Stop it, Becky. You have a science degree.

  Right. She didn’t believe in paranormal stuff. Despite what was happening. And how unbelievable she found it. The shower was as just another example. It was unbelievable, too. It was akin to bringing the rain indoors. The water had splashed and soothed and as it warmed, creating steam and wetting everything in the enclosure. It streamed down rock walls, dousing everything on the outcroppings that were used for shelves. Mikhal had an array of opaque-glass jars and decanters with all kinds of concoctions arrayed on those shelves.

  Well, of course he would. Didn’t every man?

  Becky had snickered at her thoughts before opening and sniffing. She didn’t know what potions were in the containers. If the contents lathered up and smelled nice, she washed with it. Becky stayed in there long enough to affect his hot water heater level, before drying off on unbelievably thick and lush towels, and then getting dressed in a gossamer silk slip thing worn beneath a sky-blue woven dress. It was a recognizable shade of blue. It matched Mikhal’s eyes.

  Oh. My.

  There went the heart stutter and tingling again.

  Becky stopped everything for a bit and just enjoyed the sensations, before moving toward the attire she’d pulled from one of the trunks. The sky-blue dress had silver and black embroidery about the cap sleeves, square neckline, and it even decorated the hem that ended just below her knees. She didn’t recognize the design. It wasn’t Incan. They usually used a sunburst emblem, the llama, a monkey. Recognizable patterns. This was a geometric design of some kind, mainly circles. There was a circlet thing she assumed went atop her head. A belt. And sandals. The circlet looked like silver and gold strands had been braided together, and studded with all sorts of rough-cut gems. She put it on like a necklace. It was heavy. The belt was worse. It had the same design, only the braided strands had been formed into loops that were all linked together with golden knob things. The sandals had the same design, only on leather. She hoped the accessories weren’t fashioned from real silver and gold. And real jewels. She felt and probably looked like an early American princess. A rather risqué one, since the only thing touching her skin was the silk chemise. She didn’t even have panties.

  That sensation was unbelievable, too.

  She really needed a different adjective.

  Becky took a deep breath and regarded a large shadow in the mirror that had to be her image. That was odd. The bathroom had a really crap mirror. Becky picked up a tortoiseshell comb and started working it through her hair by feel. Totally crap mirror. Another oddity was that he didn’t have a commode. What bathroom comes without a toilet? And what human after a lapse of this much time wouldn’t need one?

  She set the comb down on the slate rock sink, looked at the blob of shadow in the mirror again, and then checked her watch. This watch had been expensive. It was proving why. It was still ticking away, racking up time. It had been almost four hours since she’d awakened in the gold room. Atop the trampoline bed. Oh. That was a really nice bed. Had an amazing bounce to it...

  She sighed. The physiological symptoms came again.

  Focus, Becky.

  Right. Focus. Time check. She’d gone into this dreamscape four hours ago. Wait. There had been a weird time lapse when she’d first met him, too. She’d better add in that two-and-a-half hour gap in, too. So...it looked like she was closing in on seven hours in this la-la land. It must be evening. Her dial told her it was 8:46.

  Close enough.

  She should be hungry, but the thought of a meal-replacement bar made her slightly queasy. Water had the same issue. She turned on the faucet, looked at the stream of water. Cupped her hand, filled it, and tried to drink. Yep. It tasted awful. Well. If she didn’t need to eat and drink, she obviously wouldn’t need a commode. And that must be why there wasn’t one in here.

  Problem s
olved.

  The door was a massive chunk of metal-inlaid wood. Looked fairly substantial. Probably weighed half a ton. She might have trouble with it. Nope. It moved easily and soundlessly. Becky pulled it opened, stuck her head out into the corridor, and gasped as Mikhal moved out of the shadow directly across from her. He moved into the light cast from those florescent tubes so high above them. As if entering a theatre production.

  Oh.

  Holy shit.

  They’d switched looks. She’d taken on the native ensemble, while he’d found his way into a Western wardrobe. It didn’t hide much. Black denims hugged his hips and thighs, while the pullover nicely showed off his pecs and abs. He had his lengthy black hair back in a queue. Not a shadow of beard muted any of his perfection. She would never be able to hide him at her apartment. She’d have a hard time just getting him in a taxi without modeling agencies tossing contract offers.

  “Oh wow,” she said.

  “Kiichpan. Yana.” He said at the same time.

  “You think so? Beautiful? Too much so? Really?” She twirled. He sucked in a gasp.

  “Beyond words,” he answered.

  Oh. This was such a great dream. She had a gorgeous guy. Saying things like that. There wasn’t a bad side to anything that she could tell. “You’re speaking Mayan again?”

  He flushed slightly. It made his blue eyes stand out more. “I have been amiss.”

  “Amiss?”

  Becky joined him in the corridor. From the corner of her eyes she saw a flash of movement. She’d never had this spectacular eyesight. Or hearing. She didn’t have to move her head to recognize one of his jaguars. The black one. It was hunting something besides her.

  “Is that the wrong word?” he asked.

  “It depends on what you mean.”

  “I brought trouble to my home.”

  “I’ll try not to be that much trouble.”

  He smiled. Dang! She loved that grin of his. “I did not mean you. Here. I have something for you.”

  He’d had a hand behind his back. And what he offered took her breath. It was a pristine khipu. Maybe the one from his niche. He had it rolled into a tubular shape and secured it with the primary cord wrapped about it. She’d heard that was how they transported these. From messengers called chasquis, who ran the roads delivering these hand-to-hand.

  “Oh. Sweet. Mikhal. Do you know what this is?”

  “Yes. A khipu.”

  “I’ve never even seen such a perfect one. Let alone held it! I don’t even dare unroll it. Oh wow. Wow.” She held it to her breast.

  “It means so much?”

  “I am trying to prove that the Andean cultures had a language. That a khipu was more than just a numerical device.”

  “That is my commendation. For bravery in battle. It lists more than numbers. I may not be a khipucamayuq, but I know that much.”

  “Oh. Wow.” Her hands were shaking. Her entire body felt like she’d stepped on a live wire or something. “There are words on here?”

  “Yes.”

  She gave an excited cry. He grinned again. Her heart skipped and did a heavy hammer effect before deciding it would keep beating. He stepped closer. The gleeful feeling slowly changed. Her gaze connected with his, and got hooked. His expression probably mirrored hers. Was this what love felt like? Because it was pretty damned awesome.

  “I love you, Becky. You are my mate. I am gratified my gift has found such favor.”

  “And I think I l—.”

  Wait a second here.

  Something he’d said stopped her, despite how she tried to hush it. Something beyond huge. Titanic. And scary.

  “Wait a minute. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.” She lifted a hand to hold it between them. The other kept the khipu against her breast.

  “Yes?”

  “How do you know this has words again?”

  “I told you. It is my warrior commendation. Given to me for bravery in battle.”

  “It is your warrior commendation?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “It is your warrior commendation?” She asked it again only this time she stressed the ‘your’.

  “Yes,” he repeated.

  “H-H-How...is that possible?”

  He grinned again, as if this was funny. “I told you. I have had a lot of time. And I did not spend it sitting—.”

  She interrupted him. “Don’t do the ‘sitting on my ass’ routine again. Just don’t. This is too serious. Okay? How did you get a warrior commendation written on a khipu?”

  “I earned it. I took the most prisoners. Had the most kills. Earned the most coup. Took on all challenges and won. How else?”

  He was totally sober now. He looked entirely capable of killing. And he had spikes showing through his upper lip. Fangs. Becky started shaking. It wasn’t with the warm, pleasant sensation. It was because she was cold. And the freezing feeling was centered in her chest and moving outward.

  “You’re a...murderer?”

  “Of course not. We were at war. How is that murder?”

  “I am not the fainting type,” Becky told him. It was more to keep the little dots at bay. “And this is not happening.”

  “I can explain.”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  An obnoxious tweeting noise came from somewhere behind him. She watched Mikhal snag a cell phone from his back pocket without taking his gaze from hers. She paid him back in kind. She wasn’t taking her eyes off him. Those fangs of his were looking pretty long and pretty real. She slid a foot backward as he answered his call. His eyes narrowed as he noticed.

  “Yes?” he barked into the phone.

  She heard something about Hunters. Imminent. And then he slapped the phone shut and chucked it down the corridor somewhere. She heard it shatter. Neither of them looked.

  “We have to leave.” He told her.

  “You go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you,” she replied.

  “You will come with me.”

  “Give me one good reason why.”

  “You are my mate and I love you.”

  “Besides emotional ones.”

  “There is a team of assassins arriving at my home to destroy it. I will not have you harmed.”

  “You have a team of what? And they’re going to what? Destroy it? All the artifacts? The gold? The...khipus?”

  “Becky. It does not matter. They are just objects. There is nothing on earth of any value if you do not have love. Now come. Please?”

  Why was she waiting? The guy was eloquent. He was gorgeous. He was ripped. This was a dream. And he was probably taking her back to open air. And maybe reality.

  “Mikhal?”

  A rumbling went through the rock. The ground beneath her rolled, tossing her. And Mikhal snagged her to him. Wrapped both his arms about her. And then he went airborne. The corridor was collapsing about them. Pebbles and debris was raining. Boulders right behind it. Dust clogged everything. And Mikhal wasn’t running. He was flying. Totally unbelievable.

  “Women. And their arguing!”

  She heard his mutter as they swooped and dodged. She stuck her nose against his chest and tried to breathe.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Damn!

  Mikhal’s curse accompanied a slide of his body. He spun to glance off a wall, and then reached down and hitched her legs about his waist. The dress hiked into obscenity level as she linked her ankles and smashed her body into him. She didn’t care.

  “What’s...happened?”

  “Steps are caved.”

  He took off again. They passed a row of really tall gold-covered statues, and then another, but with his speed, the statues meshed into a solid line of incredible archeological wonder. It was hard to tell the scope and culture. Debris was everywhere. The air was alive with rocks and dirt and shards of what might have been priceless treasures hitting and bouncing everywhere. One statue trembled as she watched from over his shoulder, and then it fell onto its face. She lost the view as
he rounded a corner, this time going fast enough hair slipped across her face with the wind.

  Mikhal!” Fear should have made his name a scream. Instead it was a squeak.

  “Hold tight. Do not slacken.”

  “How...are we going to get out?”

  “Utility shafts.”

  He leaned forward, compacting her into a scrunch of discomfort. A boulder struck his back, the thud sending them to the floor. Mikhal kept her from smacking the rock with his elbow. He grunted and then was up and moving again. Becky didn’t have enough air to scream. It was stuck in her throat.

  A shadow started accompanying them, running through the slipstream Mikhal seemed to be creating. Becky watched the spotted jaguar race toward them, coming through a tunnel of destruction. And then Mikhal slowed. Stopped. Took a deep breath. Becky echoed it, getting the impression of fresh air. The smell of rain. And then a droplet of it.

  “We are here, my love. Soon. I will have you out.”

  “Your cat,” she gestured over her shoulder.

  “Kaiya?”

  He addressed the cat. It slunk around them, its back grazing her thigh where it was still wrapped about Mikhal’s waist.

  “Where is Shadow?”

  The cat yowled. Mikhal’s mouth tightened. And then he was unwrapping Becky from him. He started by unlocking her ankles at the small of his back. Pulling her legs apart and from him. Setting her on her feet, and then making her legs support her as he stepped back.

  “I must go.”

  “No!”

  “I must find her mate.”

  “But...Mikhal?”

  “This is a utility shaft. If I do not return, you are to lead Kaiya up it.”

  “Don’t leave me!”

  “I will never leave you, Rebecca. Ever.”

  He touched a kiss onto her nose and disappeared into the destruction-filled blackness.

  “Mikhal! Wait! I saw it! The black cat was by the bathroom!”

  She shouted it after him, but received nothing. He was gone. Leaving her beneath a huge black space that had all kinds of lines and hoses running through it. She might have to climb up there? Paired with a killer feline?