Immortal Bad Boys

by R. York, R. Laurey, L. Thomas-Sundstrom

  That prospect wiped out Sonny's measly attempts at a smile. He muttered on about people poking where they had no business. Which was a bit rich considering the reputation his family had for poaching. With a parting exhortation to be sure to tell him if she saw anyone, he shambled back to his battered pickup.

  Vickie was about to shut the door on him when she spied her backpack. Crammed inside were the flashlight, first-aid kit, and blanket she'd taken out last night. Pete must have brought them back after he left. Which meant she hadn't dreamed it all.

  Two empty mugs, still smelling slightly of mint, sitting in the kitchen, pretty much confirmed things. One cup she might have made for herself, but two…

  She plugged in the kettle. This needed some good, hard thinking about. Maybe she'd think better after a dose of caffeine. Maybe she needed something stronger, but it was only—she glanced at the clock over the range—eleven, and she needed a clear head.

  Given that last night was not part of her REM sleep, then it really happened. She did find Pete Falcon in a bear trap. He did suck her blood. She watched his ripped and torn flesh heal. He carried her home, and they ended up having incredible sex for hours.

  Was she hallucinating? Suffering delusions?

  If the answer was yes, she'd better hotfoot it back home and make an appointment with the police psychiatrist. If the answer was no then she was facing a new perception of reality.

  So, her nearest neighbor was a vampire and she'd had sex with him. And yearned for more. Somehow there was a connection between Pete and her, an understanding, and intimacy she'd never known before.

  Dammit, Pete owed her a few explanations.

  Not even stopping for the much-needed coffee, Vickie delayed only enough to slip on socks and sneakers, and grab her car keys. Minutes later she was heading up the mountain towards the old fishing cabin.

  She should have listened to Sonny. There was no reply to her knock. Shades were pulled down on the closed windows. She noticed recent repairs to the siding and roof, but wherever Pete was, he wasn't at home.

  Yet she couldn't push away the conviction that he was nearby.

  It was a nice day. He might be out fishing. Vickie walked around the back and headed for the pier. Pete's motorbike stood gleaming in the lean-to out back. He couldn't be that far, but a short walk up and down the lake bank showed no sign of him, and the boat was still anchored on the dock.

  She gave up.

  Pausing just long enough to tuck a note in the screen door, asking Pete to drop by later, Vickie drove back down the mountain, going right on past her house when she saw Lucas Adams sitting on her front steps.

  She pretended not to see him or hear his call as she sped around the bend.

  Cowardly perhaps, but she'd had her fill of that lot.

  Lunch had been a good idea. She was ravenous and thirsty. Hadn't Pete warned her to drink to replace the fluids he'd taken? The movie matinee wasn't quite so smart. With a choice between Interview with the Vampire and a Terminator movie, she opted for the vampires. She might have been better off with the shoot-'em-up. True, she'd always had a thing for Brad Pitt, but as a means of sorting out her confusion over the past night, it was a lousy choice.

  And pretty much convinced her she'd dreamed the whole affair. Pete had as much in common with Louis and Lestat as he did with Sonny Adams. Besides, vampires were fiction. Except that Pete was one. There, she'd thought it! Pete Falcon, the man up the mountain she rather hankered after, was a vampire. And if what happened last night happened, she'd also had rather glorious sex with a vampire. In that case, real-life vampires differed greatly from the fictional variety. If "real-life vampires" wasn't an oxymoron.

  She'd give herself brain strain in a minute!

  What she needed was a nice, safe brush with normalcy. She'd asked Pete to come by. She'd fix him dinner and see if she couldn't get some answers about whatever the hell was going on in her neighborhood. A trip to the Winn Dixie gave her the fixings, and a couple of hours at home, frying chicken, making homemade lemonade, and cutting up potatoes for salad, kept her mind away from thoughts of vampires, and the nagging anxiety of the Adamses. She did not want to dwell on the very possible connection between Sonny and his felonious father and the bear trap, but she couldn't block out the odd encounter in the drugstore. Maybe she was being too much a cop on holiday, but if she'd seen that in DC, her first thought would be crystal meth production and she knew the Adamses well enough to know they were capable of just about anything.

  Vickie's brief note perplexed Pete. Please drop by this evening could mean anything from: I'm pissed and want an explanation to You're going to get lucky again, fella! and everything in between.

  It didn't help that an evening with Vickie, even if she intended to chew him out, was infinitely more welcome than a session reporting to John—with little to report. He was not much further on than when he arrived, other than knowing that there were people out to discourage exploration in a certain area of the woods. Very determined, in fact. After he'd recovered Vickie's backpack and Florence Nightingale package, he'd spent what was left of the night searching the area and found two more equally nasty traps.

  He wheeled out his bike, and headed on down the road.

  "Pete!" Vickie said with a sexy smile as she let him in. She looked at him shyly for a second or two and then reached out.

  He wrapped her in his arms, pressing her warm, living body close. "Vickie, my love," he muttered against her mouth, as he closed his lips over hers.

  She let out a little sexy sigh and invaded his mouth with her tongue. He was tempted to race across the mountaintops with her in his arms but settled for kissing her back and easing his hand down to her waist. Her soft flesh was warm as happiness. She had not rejected him. Maybe she didn't understand the ramifications of his life. How could she? He was only learning the advantages and drawbacks of revenance himself. But with Vickie in his arms, nothing else mattered. He shifted the angle of his mouth, cupping the back of her head with his hand, holding her steady, while he took over the kiss, easing into her mouth, brushing the tip of his tongue over hers, and caressing her lips. He let out a groan as she met his need with her increasing desire. Damn! He could smell her need. He had his arms wrapped around a woman who wanted him. He wanted to shout his love aloud until it echoed off the mountains. He wanted to stay with her. He wanted to make love to her until he sensed dawn in the offing. He needed her as male needed female. He wanted more. Much, much more, and he was due in Roanoke in John's office in forty-five minutes.

  "What's the matter?" Vickie pulled back as if sensing his irritation.

  "I can't stay."

  Her disappointment blew like a cold draft across his soul. She didn't ask why, or why not. Just looked at him with her big, gray eyes. "I'd fixed us dinner."

  She had! He caught aromas of fried chicken, and something sweet like the pies his mother used to bake for the family. Vickie didn't understand.

  "Never mind," she said with a shrug. "If you can't stay, you can't."

  "It's not that at all," he said, his need to make her understand but not compromise his cover, warring in his head and heart. "I'd give anything to stay, Vickie, but I have to go. It's work."

  She nodded. "I know about work taking over," she said. "That's why I came up here, to get away."

  He pulled her close and dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. "Vickie, love, I don't eat—at least not solid food. I feed other ways."

  She pulled back, staying in the circle of his arms, but giving herself space to look up at him. "Yes. I learned that last night, didn't I? I half-thought I'd dreamt it all, but I didn't. You're a vampire, you feed off blood."

  She sounded resigned, angry, and perplexed all at the same time. "Do you mind that much?"

  "I honestly don't know. I don't know what's real, fictional, or utterly impossible anymore."

  He framed her face in his hands. The pulse at the base of her neck beat under his thumb, underscoring the vast gulf between t
heir existences. He should probably go down to John's, demand a new assignment and never come back. But to do so would kill his soul the way that enforcer's bullet had killed his body. "Vickie, there's a lot I have to tell you, things I have to explain, make you understand. If I come by tomorrow, will you be here?"

  The kiss she gave him answered that question.

  Chapter Seven

  « ^ »

  "You've been busy, Falcon."

  At least John wasn't complaining—yet. "I wish I'd actually found something, but we're talking about covering a lot of ground. I'll concentrate on the area beyond the traps."

  "Be more careful next time. You can't count on that young woman rescuing you again, and why the hell weren't you wearing ankle boots?"

  Pete treated the question as rhetorical. "When do you want me to report back?"

  "Same time next week—but before you nip off to the backwoods, we need to do something about this young woman."

  Every nerve in Pete's body bristled. "Such as?"

  "She broke your cover. She could blow the whole thing apart."

  "Rubbish! She knows I'm a vampire, that's it." Okay, it was a leap beyond most people's reality, but… "It will be fine."

  "You can't be sure." He could. His cop's instincts told him so. "Maybe she set the trap, so she could playact the rescue." Yeah, and playacted the rest of the evening—not that he had any intention of sharing those details with John. "What do you think?"

  "I think it's a shame I can't break your nose so it stays smashed."

  John raised both eyebrows. "Like that, is it?"

  "Like what?"

  "You took a live feeding from her and the effect went to your head."

  It hadn't been his head. "I needed her blood, damn it. My ankle was cut to the bone. Without her sustenance I'd have been crawling home."

  "And with it?"

  Pete refused to blush. Dammit, why was John acting as if consorting with Vickie was a crime? "She saved me, John. Without her intervention, I'd still have been lying there when the sun came up. You might forget that. I never will."

  "I don't deny you owe her a life debt, but that's not all between you, is it? This isn't just feeding or a sense of obligation."

  "What the hell do you mean?" Pete growled.

  "I'm three hundred years old, Pete. I can recognize a man in love when I see one."

  John's almost gentle words hit like a blow between the eyes. Was he in love with Vickie? Was it possible? He barely knew her. She'd saved his life. Her blood sustained him. Didn't that create a bond? Hell, yes! A bond he wanted to renew repeatedly for eternity. John was right, this could get tricky. "What the hell do I do now?"

  John gave a little smile and rested his hand on Pete's shoulder. "Only you can decide, but take it from me, it's smart to stay uninvolved with mortals. It avoids endless complications."

  Now he told him! No, he'd told him before, many times. "I never realized I'd feel this way about her."

  "Time will soon resolve it, Pete. Once this job is over, you could be across the country somewhere. The break will come naturally enough."

  His face must have shown exactly how much that prospect slammed into his guts—like a spiral twisting up to his heart. It might no longer beat, but hell, it ached.

  John shook his head, sadness in his eyes. "There's no other way, Pete. Trust me. Wind this assignment up. Soon. Get us a nice arrest and you'll have your pick of assignments."

  Pete stood. "I'll hold you to that."

  John nodded. "Before you go there's a couple of things…"

  Pete raced home, ignoring trivialities like speed limits, and wishing Virginia was one of the enlightened states that didn't legislate about helmets. Hell, he wasn't worried about head injuries and a little wind in his hair might clear out his confused thoughts.

  John had made it darn clear: somewhere out there was a meth lab. All Pete had to do was find it and grab the operators. Might as well be looking for a needle in a haystack! It was only just past one A.M.; he had a good few hours before dawn. Time to scout out a few more square miles.

  First, he had to see Vickie. This late she was no doubt fast asleep, but…

  As he neared the bend just before her house, he cut the engine and wheeled his Monster bike. No point in waking her if she was asleep. He'd have no trouble getting in.

  John was right. Pete Falcon had it bad, and it was fantastic. He and Vickie did need to have a good long talk. If she felt the same, he'd damn well find a way for them to be together.

  He left his bike in front of the porch, peeled off his jacket, draped it over his bike and had one foot on the first step, when he heard a noise.

  Every vampire sense alert, he stopped. He wasn't the only one here.

  He rounded the corner of the house, fury boiling his brain. A dark figure, perched on a box or crate, was peering in Vickie's window. The head shifted from side to side, trying to sneak a peek between the gap in her curtains.

  Pete only just remembered to rein in his strength. He leapt forward. Instead of killing—which the asshole deserved—

  Pete grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground. The intruder fell in a heap, felling the upended trash can he'd been perched on. Pete was tempted to shove him in it, and cram the lid on—permanently.

  Instead he left him lying on the ground, and turned away.

  Mistake, that.

  Two sweaty hands closed around Pete's neck just as he heard Vickie call, "Who's there?"

  She was awake, and no doubt terrified. As Pete broke the bozo's hold with one hand, he grabbed his shirtfront and recognized the younger of the Adams pair. Typical! Add peeping Tom and stalker to his other crimes.

  Reminding himself not to strangle the scuzzball, Pete hissed, "Get lost!"

  Sonny snarled and brought his knee up to Pete's crotch. Pete let him, grinning as Sonny hit home.

  The look on his face made Pete laugh. "That's enough." As he muttered promises of the alterations he'd be delighted to effect on Sonny's anatomy, he heard Vickie call out, "What the hell is going on out there?" Without waiting for an answer, a shotgun blast exploded just feet away, and a spray of lead shot stung Pete's back and shoulders. Damn, if he'd only kept on his jacket.

  The shot burned like fire, but he was strong enough to keep hold of Sonny and drag him to the front porch. "It's okay, Vickie," he called. "I'm here."

  The front door opened with a blaze of light, and a blazing Vickie, in a short sleep shirt, shotgun at the ready. Sonny seemed to think she was there to be ogled. A quick thump upside of his head fixed that.

  "What the hell is going on?" she repeated.

  "Miz Anderson," Sonny began. Out of curiosity, Pete let him continue. "I was just walking down the road and caught this here outsider, lurking round the back of your house. Now, worrying about you being a woman all alone, I ax him what he's doing, and he went for me like a wild coon." He tried to shake off Pete's hold. Pete let him try. "I don't know what it's coming to when a woman can't be safe in her own home, and when a little neighborly concern gets greeted with violence. Why, he threw me plumb to the ground and…"

  Pete couldn't hold back the guffaw any longer.

  "What the hell's so funny then?" Sonny demanded. "If you ax me, Miz Anderson, you should call the cops."

  "No need, Sonny. I am a cop."

  That was news to both of them. Sonny gasped in the night. Pete would learn more later. He'd ask. Come to think of it, what did he know about her?

  "Well then," Sonny went on, "you should be arresting this here outsider for prowling. I'd seen him! You need to know what's been going on here…"

  Vickie's burst of laughter rang in the warm night. "Sonny, I can guess. You used to stand under the monkey bars at school to look up the girls' dresses and you haven't changed."

  "Lookee here…" Sonny started.

  "Vickie," Pete asked, "you okay?"

  "Other than being disturbed by flying trash cans in the middle of the night? Fine. I'll be even f
iner when you get lost, Sonny. Be glad I'm not arresting you. Aren't you still on probation?"

  Seemed even thickos like Adams knew when they were beaten. He slunk off down the road, muttering to himself, and casting snarls over his shoulder that would have done credit to Frank Langella.

  And just in time. Pete's back and shoulder stung like hell. A couple more minutes and he'd have had a hard time keeping hold of the sneak. "I'm glad you believed me," he said, putting his foot on the first step. He was going to have to take care of his back, or rather she was.

  "It wasn't hard." She grinned. "Want to come in?" She held open the door.

  "Please!" He smiled at her and walked towards the light.

  "Pete," Vickie gasped, putting her hand on his shoulder and turning him. "What happened?"

  "You nailed me with that buckshot of yours."

  He heard her intake of breath and her quickened heartbeat.

  "It's metal. It's hurting you, isn't it? Have a seat in here." She helped him into the kitchen, turned on lights, and filled a kettle with water. "I'll get them out. Oh, Pete, I'm so sorry! I heard noise and the trash can going over and thought it was a raccoon until I heard voices…" She paused, grabbing towels and a bowl, and leaving for a minute to come back with tweezers and gauze.

  "I'm going to have to use metal tweezers to take it out. Will that hurt worse?"

  "Just get them out, Vickie, please. I'd do it myself but I can't reach back there."

  She unbuttoned his shirt and eased it off his shoulders. Had to be the best thing that had happened to him all evening. "You're bleeding like nobody's business, Pete." She paused for several seconds. "Will you need blood?"

  Just as well she was behind him and couldn't see the grin on his face. Saints and angels bless her. She was offering herself… later, please later. After he stopped hurting and she stemmed the slow sapping of his strength. "Later, love. How about get the stuff out first? I'm not much use to you with my strength oozing away like this."