It only served to incite the beast inside him.
Barack broke off the kiss, allowing her to gasp for breath. He didn’t want to use mind control to force her to acquiesce. He wanted to awaken her sexual desires as a man would, not use the powers of a vampire. Barack questioned whether she would give in, when he saw the flash of rage in her eyes.
“Get off me,” she commanded, clutching his shirt and trying to push him away.
“I’ll never let you go, Grace,” he said, lowering his head to breathe in the scent of her hair. “You are mine.”
“I. Am. Not.” Barack felt her shift her weight. Her knee came up. Hard.
Barack howled. The pain in his groin was white hot from the hammering blow. He bent at the waist, the sensation of pain so new and excruciating at the same time.
Grace slipped from his grasp and ran, disappearing down the tunnel and around a corner.
Barack braced one hand against the wall, catching his breath.
He knew that she couldn’t escape him. One way or the other, she would be his. Especially now.
As he shoved away from the wall and started to give chase, Barack smiled through his newfound pain.
This woman—his Grace—would bring him back from the brink of the hell that had been his existence up until now.
Grace had the ability to make him feel human.
* * * *
Grace literally shook as she rushed blindly on her way to who knew where. She was angry, scared and wishing to high Heaven that she hadn’t lost Drake in her mad rush to prove that she knew her way around the place. She was now lost in the dark cavernous depths of the mine with no light, no weapon and a monster on her heels.
If she thought her life was complicated before, she figured what she was going through at the moment would only serve to leave her stark raving mad and talking to herself in some state asylum.
If she lived through it.
The sound of running footsteps came from behind her.
Damn it, she hated feeling weak.
“Drake!” she called out, turning another corner. “Drake, I need you!”
* * * *
Drake picked up speed. The others had better keep up or he’d leave them in the coal dust. They had just passed a coal oil tin lying in the tunnel and a few steps further on was the stub of a candle, its flame dead. She’d been here.
And so had Barack.
Drake still carried his tin of coal oil.
“One of you got a lighter?” he asked as he continued to follow his tenuous connection to Grace’s thought patterns.
“A what?” Colin asked from right behind him.
“A cigarette lighter.”
“I’ve got one. Want it?” Rogue asked.
“Just have it handy,” Drake said. He was surprised that both of the men were staying as close as they were. He turned another corner, diving into the dark, heedless of anything except Grace and his love for her.
* * * *
Barack wasn’t moving as quickly as he wanted to. Dawn was fast approaching. His body, even though recently feeling the remnants of its humanity, was slowing down to rest mode with the imminent arrival of the light of day. He was tired, so tired of this game. Playing hide and seek with the sun. Was it possible that Grace could re-instill the part of him that was human?
Barack felt a glimmer of hope.
* * * *
Grace burst back into the entrance chamber. Finally. There were still candles burning but they wouldn’t be for long. Oh, where the heck is Drake, she thought, biting her lip. She couldn’t just leave him here. Grace paced in circles, her eyes darting from one tunnel mouth to another.
“Drake!” The resounding echo pounded her.
“Grace … we’re coming.” The voice was faint, but it made her heart soar.
“Drake, Barack is here,” she yelled, uncertain from which tunnel he would appear. “Be careful, he’s…”
Before she could finish the sentence, Barack himself appeared from the tunnel that she had just vacated. He staggered for a second, narrowing his eyes at the light.
Grace faced him, knowing her only avenue of true escape was behind her. The way out of the mine and into the oncoming light. The light would be her best weapon.
Barack raised a hand toward her. “Grace,” he said, speaking her name as a caress.
Then another form exited the tunnel and threw itself onto Barack’s back. It was Drake.
Grace screamed as Barack whirled, Drake hanging onto his back. He was pouring something over the vampire. The coal oil.
Two more figures appeared. It was the lawyer. And Rogue.
Grace raised her hands, palms out. “Rogue, no!”
“The lighter! Now!” Drake yelled, leaping away from the vampire’s back just in time before the lawyer swung an axe, chopping off Barack’s head. Drake hit the ground and rolled.
Grace screamed as she watched Barack’s head fly through the air, its long salt and pepper hair streaming out around it like a swirling banner, before it hit one of the walls with a sickening thud, then landed on the floor.
“Burn it!” Drake commanded.
Rogue sprung into action, holding the flame of the lighter to the body.
It wouldn’t catch.
Rogue looked up, eyes wide. “What…”
One of Barack’s hands came up and grabbed Rogue by the throat.
“Drake—do something!” Grace started for the body but Drake cut her off, shoving her back. She landed on her ass on the hard rock floor.
The lawyer jumped in with his axe and severed the arm from the body. The fingers lost their grip. The arm fell away from Rogue’s throat. Rogue gasped for breath.
Drake snatched a lit candle from a niche in the wall. “Colin … the head,” he said holding the flame to the oil soaked clothes of the body. The flame caught in a whoosh.
Colin picked up Barack’s head by the hair and slung it into the flames. Rogue, still gasping, did the same with the arm.
Grace shoved herself up from the floor, her bottom aching from the landing.
Drake turned toward her and smiled.
Grace took one step before hearing the familiar sound of a gun cocking.
She turned toward the sound.
Harry stood in the entrance of the mine, gun leveled directly at Drake.
Grace saw Harry take a deep breath.
“Noooo!” She jumped toward Drake just as she saw the flash at the end of the gun barrel.
Then a hot poker of fire ripped through her right shoulder and she hit the ground.
Chapter Ten
Drake’s heart stopped when he saw Grace turn and jump, putting herself directly in the line of fire. He tried to move fast enough to shove her out of the way, but it was as if he were mired in quicksand. He saw her body jerk as the bullet entered her shoulder, then she was on the ground.
Time sped up.
Drake dropped down beside her, oblivious to the sounds of men yelling. Tears stung his eyes as he gingerly inspected the wound. The bullet had struck her just past the shoulder joint and had lodged just below her collar bone. From the position of the entrance wound, Drake was pretty sure that it had missed all of her vital organs.
He smoothed her hair back from her forehead. She was sweating, but her breathing was steady. “Grace, what am I going to do with you?” he whispered, brushing a kiss across her forehead.
Her eyes fluttered open. She licked her lips. “Love me,” she said, her voice hoarse.
Drake smiled. “I already do.”
* * * *
Two days later, Grace dreaded the meeting of the County Commissioners. Even though they had told her she didn’t have to appear, that they would postpone it due to her injuries and the loss of her father, Grace had wanted to get it over with.
Her life had completely fallen apart over the span of just a few days. As she struggled to dress, her arm in a sling, Grace contemplated everything that had happened.
The worst, most heart-wrenching th
ing was the death of her father. While she and Drake had been in the coal mine waiting for Barack, her father had been murdered. From the bits and pieces that she had picked up eavesdropping on conversations, his death had been extremely suspicious. Rumor had it that he had been completely drained of blood. Grace knew that meant Barack was responsible for his death. They had held Dillon’s body for autopsy. It was due to be released to the funeral home today, along with the autopsy report. This afternoon, Grace would have to plan the funeral.
Losing her father was hard. She’d always felt that she wasn’t what Dillon wanted in a daughter. Now she knew, she had been wrong.
When she had arrived home from the hospital, she had entered Dillon’s bedroom. She sat on the bed and listened to the silence. That was when she noticed that the drawer of Dillon’s nightstand was ajar. Hesitantly, she peeked inside. There was a notebook, lying there, looking very used. Grace opened it. She read the words written in her father’s shaky hand. Then, she started to cry.
She’d been wrong all along about how Dillon felt. In his notebook, he had written about how proud he was of her. How good it made him feel that she had stepped in so quickly to mother Rogue. How she had shown that she could make it in a man’s world, by being elected Sheriff.
And about how she was the perfect daughter.
Reading the notebook had told her that she was loved.
Planning the funeral wasn’t going to be easy. Plus, she had other issues to deal with.
Drake and Rogue. Grace had seen neither of them over the last two days. In the hospital where they had kept her until she had insisted they release her late last night, Dot had been the only one to come and visit. Dot told her that Drake and Rogue were both in jail, along with the lawyer Colin Moore, for murder. But Dot had said that she didn’t think the charge would stick. It seemed that when the State Police entered the mine and examined the remains of what Harry had claimed was a man they had dismembered and set on fire, it turned out all that was left was a jaw bone. And that jaw bone wasn’t human—it was the jawbone of a wolf. They were also investigating the remains of the original three bodies, two of which had “melted” in the heavy rain. The other was now being looked at to see if it was also the remains of a wolf, due to the fact that what parts of the skeleton they had, particularly the lower jaw bone which had the fangs of a wolf, didn’t resemble a human after all. The State Police was also taking into account the local reports of wolf sightings and Billy Ray’s claim that it was a wolf that killed his cow. According to Dot, all three men would probably be released this morning with all charges dropped.
Grace hoped that was the case. She had not been able to visit the jail. The Commissioners had placed her on administrative leave due to Harry’s accusations. Grace was not allowed in the Sheriff’s office nor was she allowed to visit the jail. Even though she hadn’t been charged with the others, since Harry had not seen her do anything to harm the person he alleged they killed, she still was not allowed to discuss the matter with the prisoners because she was a witness.
Grace grimaced, buttoning the last button of her blouse. Her shoulder throbbed, but the doctor said she would have no lasting effects of the gunshot wound. She had been lucky.
Grace headed for the bathroom to try to do something with her hair. When she looked in the mirror, the sadness she saw in her own eyes made her chest tighten. She’d lost her father, probably her job, definitely her reputation and had gotten her nephew thrown in jail. And Drake … she wished she knew for sure just where she stood with him now.
He had said that he loved her.
She hoped their relationship could survive this total chaos and become something deeper, more lasting.
With a heavy sigh, Grace decided just to run a comb through her hair and get out of the house before she started to cry. She had to keep her backbone. There would be plenty of time to moan about all the mistakes she had made later.
She took a deep breath, adjusted her sling and started for the door.
It was time to face the music.
* * * *
Drake paced the cell, anxious to get the heck out of this place. He needed to see Grace, tell her that whatever happened, he loved her and would be there for her whenever she needed him.
He would defend her until the day he died.
“Drake, you’re gonna wear a rut in the floor if you don’t stop that pacing,” Rogue said. He was lying on one of the cots, hands tucked behind his head.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Colin added from his place, sitting at the small table. “I spoke to the prosecutor an hour ago. They’re dropping all charges.” Colin chuckled. “They’ve finally realized that what we ‘murdered’ wasn’t human after all.”
Drake stopped his pacing and grabbed the bars of the cell. “Then why haven’t they released us!” The sound of his voice bounced off the cement block walls.
The door of the holding area opened and the maroon-haired Dot entered, jangling a set of keys in her hand. “Well boys, it’s time for you to go,” she said, unlocking the cell door. “And in case you’re interested Mr. Raven, there’s a meeting of the County Commissioners in about twenty minutes. You may want to attend.”
Drake stepped out of the cell and looked down at the woman. “Why would I want to do that?” He wanted to see Grace. He had some very important questions to ask her.
“Well, the topic of discussion will be the impeachment of the Sheriff for inappropriate behavior in office. The Sheriff will be there.”
Drake looked her in the eye. “Tell me how to get there.”
* * * *
Ten minutes later, Rogue stepped out into the sunshine and lit a cigarette. He drew the smoke in deep, the mint of the menthol was cool down his throat. Damn it was good to be alive, he thought.
Colin nudged him in the arm. “Got another one of those?” he asked.
Rogue shook one out of his pack. “Here you go,” he said, then handed Colin his lighter.
Colin lit it and drew in the smoke. “Damn, what a head rush,” he said, blowing out a plume of blue-tinged smoke. “First cigarette I’ve had in three years.”
Rogue grinned. “Yeah, I always was considered a bad influence.” He clapped Colin on the back. “So, let’s go have a drink. Then we can talk about me joining you’re ‘vigilante’ group.”
Colin laughed. “I think you already are a member.” Colin nudged him in the side. “Uh, don’t you want to go to the meeting to see what happens with Grace?”
Rogue raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know Aunt Grace very well, do you? If anyone can handle a bunch of Commissioners, Grace is the one. Besides, the Commissioners don’t think too kindly of me.” Rogue winked. “I’ve got this reputation, you know.”
Colin nodded, laughing again. “I’ll just bet you do.”
Both men began walking toward Joe’s bar.
* * * *
Grace walked into the meeting room of the County Services building with her head held high. It didn’t matter if they wanted her impeached. After thinking it over, of all the things that had went wrong of late, losing her job was the least important. She was going to walk out of his meeting the same way she walked in.
Head held high.
The Commissioners sat in a row along one side of a long Formica topped table. All their eyes turned to her as she made her way toward the front of the room past the rows of folding chairs filled with nosey busybodies. Grace would lay money on the fact that ninety-nine percent of the people in this room had never attended a Commissioner’s meeting in their life. Grace shook her head, sitting down in the front row, which was strangely empty. She was surprised that no one wanted to sit up front, just in case they missed hearing some juicy piece of dirt. But then, maybe none of them wanted to associate with her. Didn’t want to be seen sitting with the sex-crazed Lady Sheriff.
Grace shifted her sling, resting her hand in her lap and waited for the mud-slinging to begin.
Clive Sloan banged a gavel on the table top.
“I’d like to call this emergency meeting of the Commissioners to order.”
Grace’s good hand flew to her mouth to stifle a snicker. An emergency meeting, she thought. My Lord, I’m an emergency.
One of the snotty women sitting at the Commissioners table gave Grace a look, narrowing her eyes.
Grace took a breath and sobered herself. It would not do to burst out laughing right now. They would think she was crazy, along with being sex-crazed. That’s it, she thought, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling. I’ll claim temporary insanity. They’ll believe me. This is the South. We’re known for being crazy.
Clive nodded Grace’s way. “Sheriff Shanley, let me express the sadness of the Commissioners over the loss of your father. Dillon was an honest, upstanding man. He will be missed.”
Grace nodded. “Thank you.”
Clive swiped a hand across his bald head. “Now, for the matter at hand.” He cleared his throat, then shuffled some papers that lay in front of him.
Harry stood up from his seat at the end of the second row. “Come on Clive, stop pussy-footing. Everyone here knows what went on.” He turned and pointed a finger at Grace. “The Sheriff had ‘relations’ with a male prisoner in the jail. Now in my opinion, she should be stripped of her office.”
“I’d like to see her stripped,” a male called out from the back of the room.
Grace turned, but couldn’t place who had said it.
Clive hammered his gavel. “Now listen here! I will not have this meeting turn into a free for all.”
“I always thought she looked too much like a hussy to be Sheriff,” a woman said.
“That long blond hair of hers don’t look like it oughta be on no Sheriff,” another female voice called out.
Clive stood from his chair, his face red and blotchy. He whammed the gavel down on the tabletop. “I’ll clear this room!”
“It’s a public meeting. You don’t have the power to clear the room,” Harry said.
Grace had heard enough. Before she got completely ripped to shreds, she’d better say something. Grace stood and walked to the front of the room, stopping directly in front of Clive. “Permission to speak,” she said.
Drake the Defender Page 11
