But it wouldn’t help Carolyn if Vincent let his anger determine their next move.
“Jerry?” she repeated, desperate to cut through the unbearable tension that Vincent’s rage was creating.
“Yes,” Jerry said finally, sounding like a man waking from a nightmare. “Her master’s business is like Camarillo’s, which means he will have guards.”
Lana glanced at Vincent who was glaring at Jerry’s reflection in a way that told her his rage hadn’t eased even a tiny bit.
“Vincent,” she said, keeping her voice low and easy. “You said Michael is only bringing two fighters, maybe—”
“Two will be more than enough,” he growled. “I could take them all on my own if I had to.”
“Maybe we should wait—”
“We’re not waiting,” he snapped, spearing her with a glance. And what she saw in his eyes at that moment was nothing but a cold-blooded killer. This was no longer the charming, sexy Vincent who was determined to seduce every woman he met. This was the vampire who Jerry claimed could rule Mexico if he wanted. The vampire who’d reduced Fidelia’s house to rubble with nothing but a thought, who’d ripped out Camarillo’s throat with dark glee written all over his face.
It would have terrified her if he’d been anyone other than Vincent.
But she wasn’t afraid, at least not for herself. She knew his rage wasn’t directed at her, but at the men, vampire or not, who’d taken gross and vicious advantage of a helpless woman. Even more, she wasn’t afraid because she knew Vincent, and she could never be afraid of him.
“Okay,” she said deliberately. “So, we’ll follow the original plan. We do a recon of Poncio’s place. If it looks good, we’ll take him out and you can do your magic on Salvio like you did with Jerry.”
“Magic,” Vincent repeated darkly.
“I speak as a layman, of course,” she said, being intentionally obtuse. “I’m sure it’s not actually magic, but that’s what it seems like to me.”
“Magic,” he said again, softer this time, a smile playing around his sensuous mouth as the tension in the vehicle ratcheted down a few hundred levels. “All right. Jerry?”
“Sir?”
“Can you direct me to Poncio’s estate?”
Jerry scanned the desert outside the windows, seeing, Lana was certain, nothing but the black night despite his vampire vision, because there simply wasn’t anything else out there. “When we get closer, I can,” he said. “There’s a turnoff from this road. I’ll recognize it when I see it.”
“That’ll do. Lana, when we get there—”
“Don’t waste your breath,” she said, cutting him off. “I’m not staying with the SUV.”
“It’s a recon. Jerry and I are better at that kind of stealth—”
“I’m perfectly capable of surveying a target without stirring up a hornet’s nest,” she informed him. “That’s kind of my job, you know.”
“You survey hornet’s nests?”
“Ha, ha. Very funny,” she retorted, although privately, she was thrilled and relieved that Vincent was capable of humor again.
“I’ll decide when we get there,” Vincent said, as if that was the final word.
“It’s already decided.”
“I’m hoping for bloodshed,” he growled. “I’m feeling a bit peckish.”
Lana’s mouth tightened irritably. She couldn’t match that one, and his grin told her he knew it. Jerk.
VINCENT EYED LANA speculatively as she stood at the Suburban’s open cargo hatch and geared up for their pending recon of Poncio’s house. She was currently concealing an assortment of knives about her person that a lesser man, or vampire, might have found alarming. Vincent thought it was sexy as hell. Just watching her was giving him a hard-on. That didn’t mean he liked the idea of her going with him, though. He entertained and dismissed the notion of “persuading” her to stay here and wait for him. First, because he still hadn’t figured out how to breach that weird resistance of hers to vampiric power, but even more than that, he wouldn’t do it because he respected her too much to sideline her against her will. Besides, if he tried, she’d probably be pissed as hell, and that would make it much more difficult to achieve his plan to lay her out on a big bed and fuck her until she screamed.
He smiled, thinking about that eventuality. Lana happened to glance up at that moment and narrowed her gaze at him, obviously finding his expression suspect. He winked at her, purely for the sake of his own amusement, and because he knew it would make her even more suspicious.
Muttering to herself, she turned back to her weapons, jamming a knife into her boot with enough force that he winced.
“It’s best if you’re not bleeding before we begin,” he reminded her.
She puffed out a dismissive breath. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, vampire. I’ve done this a hundred times. And, FYI, there’s a custom sheath built into the boot.”
“Is there?” he said, intrigued. “A hundred times, you say?”
“At least.”
“But how many times have you drawn it?”
She gave him an impatient glance as she yanked down and shut the cargo hatch. “Enough,” she said, but then added, “But mostly in practice.”
An unaccustomed, and uncomfortable, tightness swelled around Vincent’s heart at her admission. It revealed a vulnerability in Lana that he’d always suspected was there. He glanced around, but Jerry was in front of the SUV, crouched down and surveying the hacienda in the small valley below. Vincent came up behind Lana and trapped her between his body and the closed cargo hatch. He slipped an arm around her waist, his hand resting flat against her belly as he leaned down and rested his cheek against the side of her head. She stiffened slightly, but didn’t push him away, her body tense, waiting to see what he would do.
“I won’t tell you not to do this, querida,” he said quietly. “But take care. Remember, you’re dealing with vampires. Jerry and I are stronger, faster, and more resilient than you. Poncio might be human, but he can still shoot a gun, and Salvio’s a complete unknown. You’re—” He searched for a way to say what needed to be said that wouldn’t offend her, wouldn’t simply make her shut down and stop listening. “—easier to damage than we are.”
She tried to pull away, but he only tightened his grip. “Promise me, Lana. Don’t risk yourself for me or Jerry. I need you alive.”
She softened enough to ask, “Why?”
Vincent smiled slightly and tightened his arm around her, closing the small space between them until her back was pressed to his front, letting her feel his body’s reaction to her. She sucked in a breath of awareness and her heartbeat kicked up a notch.
“Because I want you in my bed, querida, not just to sleep, but to finish what we started earlier this evening.”
Her head fell back against his shoulder for just a moment, then she turned in his arms and he let her shove him away. “Don’t worry about me,” she said briskly. “I have every intention of staying alive, and not just so that you can get your rocks off, either.”
Vincent snagged her arm, bending it behind her back as he pulled her close and lowered his head until they were breathing each other’s air. “You just stay alive. I’ll do the rest.” He kissed her then, hard and demanding. But if he’d thought she’d fight him, he’d have been wrong. Her other hand came up to cup the back of his neck, fingers twisting in his hair as she yanked him in tight and kissed him back just as hard. When she released him, they were both breathing rapidly and her light brown eyes were glittering with a desire that matched his own.
“We’ll both survive,” she murmured. “And then we’ll talk.”
Vincent stroked his hand down the length of her braid and gave it a yank. “Deal. Let’s go see what Jerry’s discovered.”
They’d parked the S
UV up above the hacienda, concealing it behind a hill to avoid detection from below. Vincent led the way down to Poncio’s estate, crawling the last few yards so as not to silhouette himself in the bright moonlight. He didn’t know if the moon was technically full, but it was damn close to it. Lana scooted up beside him as the three of them lay staring at the buildings down below.
“It’s awfully quiet for a vamp residence,” Lana observed, pulling a small pair of binoculars from her pocket. She’d changed from the skintight Levis she’d been wearing, and now wore a pair of black combat pants. Vincent liked the jeans, but she filled the combats out nicely, too.
“Anyone see anything?” Vincent asked.
“I’m on night vision here, but I’m not seeing much. How about you guys?” Lana asked, not taking the binocs from her eyes.
“We’re several hours past sunset,” Jerry commented. “Maybe they’ve all gone out already.”
“Or maybe they were never home to begin with. If this guy’s an enforcer, he must travel.”
A sudden flash of light had Lana swearing as she dropped the night vision lenses from her eyes. “Damn. What was that?”
“The outbuilding on the left,” Jerry said quietly.
Vincent nodded. He’d seen the same thing. Someone had opened and closed a door, and now two figures, two humans, were making their way across the yard away from the outbuilding. They were walking directly, but not hurrying. One walked slightly in front of the other and there was an air of confidence about him. He moved as if he was sure of his place and unafraid, even though he’d be useless in a fight. The guy was overweight and out of shape, with a belly that hung over his belt. His confidence was no doubt due in large part to the presence of the heavily-armed man accompanying him. That one moved like a bodyguard, hand on the MP 5 slung around his neck, his head constantly turning left and right as he scanned the yard, then moved quickly to open and check out a gate between the buildings before his charge could walk through.
“Both human,” Vincent said for Lana’s benefit. She made a hmm sound, acknowledging the information as she put the binocs to her eyes once more.
“There must be a basement in that building on the left, sir,” Jerry said, confirming what Vincent was thinking.
“I agree. You said Poncio’s an enforcer. He’d need someplace to question his victims, someplace their screams wouldn’t carry.”
“Yes.”
“Was the guy with the gut Poncio?” Lana asked from his other side.
“It was,” Jerry confirmed.
Vincent nodded. He’d guessed as much. “That makes our job easier,” he said.
“How do you figure that?” Lana questioned.
“The targets are split,” Jerry answered for him. Vincent was reminded that this young man had done two tours in a very hot war zone, not to mention whatever nefarious activities he’d engaged in over the last two years for Camarillo.
“But we don’t know how many are still in the basement,” Lana protested. “Or even if there’s really a basement at all.”
“There’s a basement,” Vincent said confidently. “All that dirt muffles the life signs, makes it difficult to say with certainty how many people are down there. But the very fact that it’s muffled tells me there’s a basement. Either that, or the building’s shielded like crazy. Although, if it is, that’s even better. I’d much rather storm a building than a basement.”
“We’re storming a building?” Lana asked.
“Storming might be too strong a word. We’ll approach quietly, take out Poncio in the house, then do a covert entry on the outbuilding. If there’s a basement, which I think likely, we’ll have no choice but to check it out.”
“Can’t we just throw a grenade down the stairs or something?”
Jerry swiveled his head to stare silently, while Vincent’s regard was somewhat more amused. “You have a grenade handy, querida?”
Lana shrugged uncomfortably. “I have a couple of flashbangs in my duffel.”
Vincent’s grin broadened. “Are those legal?”
“More or less. We get ours from a UK military source. They come in handy sometimes.”
“I’m intrigued by the more or less part of your response, but we can discuss that later. For now, however, I’m reluctant to use your flashbangs. If that basement is what I think it is, then Salvio is likely to be down there, maybe with prisoners. I’m concerned about the damage your grenade might do to a vampire’s more finely-tuned senses. And since we’re trying to liberate Salvio, I’d rather not start out by bursting his ear drums or worse.”
“He’d heal,” she muttered. “But what if he has a bunch of human guards down there with him? You could be walking into a hail of gunfire.”
“I won’t be walking at all. Trust me, I can move fast when I need to. But first things first. Jerry, when we get down there, I want you to find a position near that building’s exit. If anyone other than Salvio tries to leave, you take them out.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lana, you’re with me. We’re going to pay our fat friend Poncio a visit.”
Chapter Fourteen
LANA FOLLOWED IN Vincent’s wake, trying not to make as much noise as a herd of cows rushing down the hillside. Vincent and Jerry both moved like ghosts. She wouldn’t have known they were there if she hadn’t been with them. Even then, she was pretty sure they were holding back, going slowly in order to avoid leaving her in their dust. Not that they were stirring up any. Bastards.
She winced as yet another piece of scrub crackled under her foot, breathing a sigh of relief when they finally hit the mostly rock and dirt base of the hill. This part wasn’t all that different from their climb out of Camarillo’s compound, except that in this case, she didn’t dare risk even the smallest light. Everything was completely dark on Poncio’s estate. There were no lights along the pathway or the gate Poncio had used, and no security system had been triggered in response to his walk across the yard, or to their movements along the edges. A very dim light had come on upstairs in the sprawling two-story adobe that was the main residence, but it was little more than an outline of a shuttered window.
If not for the bright moonlight, Lana would have been nearly blind. But even with it, she barely managed to avoid tripping over Vincent. He was crouched down, waiting for her as Jerry sprinted along the edge of the property, using the uneven hillside as cover as he made his way close to the barn where they thought Salvio would be found, and maybe a prisoner or two.
Lana rested a light hand on Vincent’s shoulder to let him know she was there—although, in retrospect, he probably didn’t need the warning—then crouched next to him. She quickly lost sight of Jerry in the shadows, but Vincent seemed to follow his progress easily enough. Lana kept her eyes on the rest of the property, scanning from left to right.
“It’s too quiet,” she whispered. “Where are the animals? The coyotes?”
“They’re smart enough to know there’s a predator around tonight who’s much tougher than they are,” he murmured.
Lana frowned, then caught the flash of white that was Vincent’s grin. “You mean . . . you? Huh.” She’d never thought of vampires as predators, but, of course, they were. “I’m glad you’re on my side, then.”
“Why, Lana. I’m touched.”
She scowled. “You’re touched all right. So what’s next?”
“Next, you and I go find Señor Poncio and remind him that there are creatures afoot tonight who are far more dangerous than he is, too.”
“It’s a big house. How will you know where he is?”
“If his heart is beating, I’ll find him. But we’ll have to get through the door first. I’m a vampire. I can’t enter without an invitation.”
“That story’s true?”
“It is. And it might be why Poncio’s guard is hum
an. He protects himself from his own vampire enforcer by never inviting him inside the house.”
“I’m not a vampire,” she said thoughtfully.
“No, you’re not, but I’m not sending you into that house alone.”
“If I got inside, could I invite you in once I was there?”
“You can’t sneak in and then invite me. You’d have to be invited first, and even then you’d have to get Poncio or the guard to invite your friends, at least indirectly.”
“If I knock, the guard will probably be the one who answers.”
“Probably.”
“So all I need to do is get invited inside, and then finagle an invitation for my friend. No problem.”
VINCENT WATCHED as Lana stood and began stripping off her gear, her jacket first, and then, with a deep sigh, her Sig, along with the shoulder holster. The jacket she folded and left on the ground, with the weapon on top of it. She touched the gun lightly and said, “Take good care of this, okay? It’s my favorite.”
“The gun?” he asked, amused that she had a favorite weapon.
“Yes,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She then proceeded to pull her long-sleeved T-shirt out of her pants and yanked it off over her head, leaving her in nothing but a black sports bra and the stretchy white tank top that she’d slept in.
Vincent scowled. He didn’t like where this was going. “Lana, what . . .” His unhappiness grew when she turned her back to him, pulled off the tank top, and began undoing the hooks on the bra’s front opening.
“What the fuck?” he demanded. He hadn’t been all that sold on letting her go in there alone in the first place, and this little striptease of hers wasn’t making him feel any better about it.
Vincent (Vampires in America Book 8) Page 20
