No conferences. No retreats. Nothing public, anyway.
Something told me these guys might fly under the radar, though. Maybe looking online was a waste of time. What else was new? Why would anything start making sense any time soon?
The prickly feeling on the back of my neck brought me up short. I glanced up from the phone, eyes darting back and forth. Somebody was nearby. Or something.
It was the black leather jacket that caught my attention and held it.
The jacket and the man in it.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
There he was, getting out of a sleek, dark red convertible. In the sun’s light, it looked downright molten. I had never seen anything like it.
Or like him.
He was wearing sunglasses, like me, but there was no guessing where he was looking since he didn’t bother turning his head away or even trying to look away. Why would he want to even pretend he wasn’t looking?
He paused in front of my car, staring at me. A corner of his mouth twitched and honest to God, there went those feelings again. Warm feelings. Wet feelings. Wet panties. My mouth went dry, my pulse raced. My body practically hummed.
The spell broke when he kept moving, walking down the line of cars before disappearing inside a liquor store a few doors from where I sat.
There were no cars between his and mine. Just an empty space. I looked over at his sexmobile—seriously, just the sight of it ratcheted up the already strong buzzing between my legs—and something caught my eye.
A dent in the front bumper. Right side.
Strange. Why did that bug me so much? Why did the hair stand up on the back of my neck again? Why did the sound of an engine’s roar fill my ears?
Instinct made me start my car and back out of the spot, then pull farther down the line and park at the far end of the strip mall. Why didn’t I leave right away?
I had to hear the car’s engine. His engine.
Was it he who'd hit me?
I knew it happened. The accident, if it was an accident. I had the feeling it was deliberate, but who could say?
Who could say how the hell I was okay the day after, for that matter? But I believed it had happened. I believed it because I knew Dominic’s voice from when I was in that in-between place after falling asleep. Because he’d told me he was there, in the cabin, and what other reason would there have been?
What was even the point of making sense of it? I was getting a headache.
Sexy McLeather Jacket—honestly, in June?—stepped out of the store with a box of various bottles under one arm. He carried it like it weighed nothing. I noticed he looked at the empty spot where my car had just sat before getting behind the wheel of his sex machine.
The roar of the engine made my chest tighten. Sure, one engine was pretty much the same as another, but I knew that sound. I knew it in my soul.
Which was why I took down the license plate and called the only other person in my phone besides Poppy and Larry.
“Long time, no talk.”
Even in the grip of nauseating panic and probably a little minor PTSD, I had to grin. “You know how busy I am, Uncle John.”
“Uh-oh. Uncle. You don’t call me that unless you need something from me.”
“Man. You have a low opinion of me. I mean, I knew you did, but…”
“Okay, kiddo. What can I do you for?”
He was so damn corny. When Dad died—was brutally murdered—his baby brother John sorta kinda took over the job of raising me. Sorta kinda because I wasn’t exactly in any mood to be raised.
“You’re too young for Dad jokes.” He was, like, six years older than me, and didn’t have any kids. “Anyway, I’m up at Miller’s and there’s this guy—”
“Miller’s?”
Right. I never did tell him about my vacation plans. “Yeah. Spending a month or so up here. I needed to get away from one of my many exes. What can I say? I drive ‘em out of their minds.”
“You’re sure this is a good idea?”
“This is why I don’t tell you things, Uncle John.”
“Christ on a fucking cracker, stop calling me that. It weirds me out.”
“As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, there’s a guy driving around here like a bat out of hell. He almost sideswiped me as I was coming out of the grocery store.”
The truth? No, not so much. But what was I supposed to say? The dude hit me with his car last night and I almost died but now I feel amazing and I’m pretty sure I’m losing my mind?
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“I was wondering if you could run his plates.”
“Whoa, whoa, what do you think this is? You call the police department and get some desk jockey to dive into some guy’s personal information just because you can’t look both ways?”
“Ew. Fuck you, then.”
“Give me the plates.”
I bit back a laugh before reading off what I’d written. What I thought I was going to do with the information, I had no idea. What could I do? Stalk the guy? Send a threatening letter to his house? Leave a bag of flaming dog poop on his porch?
That’d teach him a lesson.
He whistled through his teeth. “Ouch, kid. You might wanna let bygones be bygones and pay more attention to where you walk.”
“Why? Who is it? Some important dude’s son?”
“Yes, in fact. He’s a St. Germaine.”
“As in the St. Germaine family? The St. Germaine family who’s richer than God?”
“Yep. The very ones. Like I said, you’d better keep an eye out for your surroundings, because you don’t want to get on their bad side.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
“I know you’re a very charming person who would never make an enemy, but try to stay away from the guy. Okay?”
“Sure, sure, sure. I don’t plan on getting to know him. What’s his first name?”
“Sophie.”
I gasped. “It’s Sophie? What a coincidence!”
“Why do you want to know his name?”
“Curiosity. Wouldn’t you be curious about the name of a person who might’ve killed you?”
“Sorry to disappoint, but the car’s registered under the old man’s name. Augustine. Unless it was him behind the wheel.”
“No, this guy was younger.”
Augustine. Didn’t I hear that name at the grocery store?
“I don’t know what to tell you. Oh, wait, yes. I do. Let it go and move on. These aren’t the people you want to be curious about. For once, listen to me.”
“Fine, whatever. I’d better go let you inch closer to your pension.” He was laughing when he hung up, at least, and not asking too many questions about why I was back where my parents were murdered for the first time in ten years. I should’ve known he would be surprised and probably weirded out by it.
I certainly was when my therapist suggested this stupid trip. Ex-therapist.
Hence my walking out and telling her she would never see me again.
Hence my deciding all of two days later to go through with it. Would I ever tell her I ended up taking her advice? Hell, no. Fuck her. It wasn’t like I was taking her advice, anyway. She put the idea in my head and I couldn’t let go of it, was all.
I made a couple of stops before making the drive back in relative peace, then decided to stop at the grocery store for ice cream. I could use some, for some reason, and it was better than the way I used to deal with my issues.
Legal, even. Nobody ever got arrested for possession of a pint of mint chocolate chip.
On the way to the register, the headline from the local paper caught my eye. Maybe because it reminded me of another headline from ten years ago.
TWO WOMEN BRUTALLY SLAIN IN WOODS
* * *
GABRIEL
She was all right. Fine, even. Looking better than she ever had.
I hadn’t prayed in many years. Many, many. Not since the Before Times, when
I was a man. Before I became what I was as I drove from the liquor mart to the location where my family awaited the Summit.
Lavinia was noticeably absent. She knew I would kill her on sight and was smart enough to stay away from me.
What would she think when she learned she was unsuccessful in murdering that impossibly frustrating, captivating young woman whose safety had become my entire existence?
And how much of my edge had I lost if Lavinia was able to see through me so easily? There was no reason any of my family—the family I’d adopted after leaving the St. Germaines—should have been able to sense Sophie’s significance.
Only the direct bloodline was able to sense her, and even then there were situations in which her presence could be masked from us.
I knew that all too well.
I only hoped she would forgive me one day for making her life the center of mine. Eventually she would understand how necessary it was. Once she let go of her human tendency to lash out against what she couldn’t understand.
Lavinia knew, though. Somehow, she knew who Sophie was and what she meant. Why else would she have tried to kill her? Why go to the trouble of drugging me—she gave those women heavy, hard drugs which then worked on me once I drank their blood—if not because she knew who she was trying to kill?
And if she knew who Sophie was and where to find her…
… how many others would be after her?
What would dear Uncle Augustine do if he knew how I’d spent these many years?
Years in which I hadn’t tried to kill Sophie Strickland, but instead had protected her life?
Eight
SOPHIE
“That oughta do it.” I rose from my crouch in front of the door and inspected the last of the five locks I’d just installed.
Yes. Five. I always believed in being prepared and happened to be handy with a set of tools.
After gathering together all the packaging from what I’d picked up earlier in the day, I tossed it in the trash and pulled out my ice cream. Cookie dough. Always my favorite.
Man. What an exciting night I was spending. A far cry from the clubs of my youth. Bars. Underground casinos and drug parties. Whatever I could get into. Whatever was the most dangerous.
Anything to make me feel… something.
Now? Ice cream in the middle of the woods. All alone.
The creaking of the porch floorboards made me drop the spoon, though I caught it before it hit the floor. I looked at it in my hand, stunned. When had I even bent to grab it?
Another creak on the porch stole my attention back. Right. There were more important things to worry about.
I should’ve known. After all, I’d installed five fricking locks on a door that already had two. I knew somebody was going to come back.
Let them try to get in. I almost wanted them to.
“Sophie?”
Great. This guy. I dipped the spoon into the ice cream while going to the window next to the door. The porch light was on. He wasn’t wearing a cloak this time.
Damn it. Why did he have to be so delicious? I’m talking way beyond even the most tempting ice cream. The most tempting anything.
Dominic turned his gaze on me, and those eyes of his burned straight through me. How could something be so beautiful and so dangerous at the same time?
It took real willpower—I mean more than I’d tapped into since I got clean—to take a mouthful of cold, creamy goodness and pretend not to care he was right there, staring at me. “Hey,” I managed before swallowing the bite.
“Must you drag this out?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He looked at the door. “The additional locks. Do you believe that would stop me?”
“It had damn well better stop you.” Another mouthful. It might as well have been sawdust, but I’d be damned if I didn’t at least go through the motions. I didn’t want him to know what he did to me.
How he undid me.
“And if it doesn’t?”
I snickered. “Stop playing around. And get out of here. I don’t want to see you, in case you forgot.”
“You have to see me. This is for your own good.”
“Oh, as you’ve proven. I enjoyed having to drive forty-five minutes both ways to get a new phone today, since you broke mine. And then I woke up on the floor after your cousin touched me. What, was there some kind of drug on his fingertips? Is that how he knocked me out?”
“You don’t have the first idea.”
It was his smile that got me. That sad little smile. The sort of smile that said he pitied me.
I snarled, gesturing with the spoon. “Go. Now. I’m calling the cops for real this time.”
Instead of listening, he touched the doorknob.
There was no way I could’ve expected what happened next.
The door opened.
All seven locks just… stopped working. I might as well have used gum to hold the door shut.
The ice cream fell from my hand. I didn’t catch it this time.
“Stay out!” I screamed when Dominic took a step into the cabin. “I’m serious! Get out of here!”
Who was I? Since when did I shriek that way? Since when did I cower in fear?
This was different from training. From self-defense, from kickboxing. From fighting off an attacker on a dark street.
I had never seen anything like this in my entire life. An intruder I could handle, but one who rendered every lock on the door useless at the same time? Without doing anything more than touching the doorknob?
I was useless. All I could do was scream before scrambling for the kitchen. I needed something. A weapon. My hand fell on the knife block and I pulled out the widest of the bunch.
“Don’t waste your time, Sophie.” Dominic sounded downright bored when I held the knife up, chest-height, blade angled out. “You’ve already wasted enough.”
“Don’t t-tell me.” Damn it, my voice was shaking. I hardened my jaw. “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m calling the police this time, for real.”
“You’d only ruin yet another phone that way.”
His eyes narrowed. Somehow, their color grew more intense. “And I think you know that.”
“Bullshit.”
“Stop lying to yourself.” He spread his arms. “Have I tried to hurt you? I’ve managed to make my way into this cabin yet again, and yet again I haven’t made a move to harm you. Wouldn’t I charge you or something to that effect if I wanted to inflict harm?”
“How the hell would I know? You’re the one who’s clearly skilled at breaking and entering.”
“Don’t pretend you’ve never dabbled in that yourself.”
Damn him, damn him, damn him straight to hell. I had to remind myself to hold on tight to the knife. “What are you talking about?”
“Your history, Sophie. Once I found you, I made it my business to know everything there was about you.”
I gulped. “Found me? You were looking for me?”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“You’d damn well better make time.”
“Later. When we’re out of here. I’ve told you before, Sophie, I will answer your questions so long as you come with me. I need you to come.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
When he took a step toward me, I acted without thinking, bringing the knife down in a wide arc. What I expected to do was anybody’s guess, since I hadn’t exactly planned on slashing him.
I might’ve done it, too, if he didn’t jump a good six feet to the side without hardly moving. My mouth fell open. Where he was no longer than a blink of an eye before then, there was nothing but open air. Like he hadn’t been standing there at all.
“We’re going to have to do something about your tendency toward violence,” he sighed. “It’s unproductive.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” I confessed in a shaky whisper.
“You will. You’ll understand everything. O
nly, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I need you to come with me. Please, come.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you.”
I barked out a laugh. “Well, that’s helpful.”
“What if I told you I know who struck you with their car last night?”
“I know who it was,” I half-bluffed, since I wasn’t completely sure. Having a hunch and being sure weren’t even in the same ballpark.
“Oh? What if I told you I know why they did it?”
I shook my head. “So I really did get hit.”
“Yes.”
“And you healed me somehow.”
“Yes.”
“How? I know, I know, you’ll tell me everything once we’re out of here.”
“Correct again.” He smiled, and it struck me as being genuine. He looked younger when he smiled like that. His eyes sparkled. I could almost like him if he would just keep his mouth shut and stop saying weird, cryptic things. Not breaking into my cabin would’ve been a nice touch, too.
“How do I know I can trust you? Can I tell somebody else where I’m going?”
“You will simply have to trust, Sophie. As for your second question, no. You can’t. To tell them would mean having an understanding of where you’re going and why you have to go there, and that isn’t something I can give you in the short amount of time we have.”
“Shorter than you think.” Jessabelle swept into the cabin wearing a long, tight, black dress that would look a lot more at home on a red carpet or at a swanky Manhattan party.
“Are they coming?” Dominic turned away from me. I noticed his hands tightening into fists, so tight his knuckles stood out white against his already pale skin.
“They’re on their way.” She looked at me, eyes flickering up and down. “She’ll have to go like this. I knew you weren’t the right one to speak to her, but no one ever listens to me.”
“Enough,” he sighed.
“Um, hello? Wanna talk to me like I’m actually in the room? Or would you rather keep talking about me like I’m the dog or something?”
Jessabelle rolled her eyes before swinging a chocolate waterfall over one slim shoulder. She was tall, something I couldn’t have known while she was bending over me and I was half-conscious, with an hourglass figure. Perfection, in other words.
New Blood Page 5
