Alexandra Sabian 2 - Blood Secrets Page 8

  Kirk chuckled and turned a page of the book he was pretending to read. The princess table moved their conversation to the upcoming formal dance, and he in turn shifted his focus to another table.

  “… heard she was involved with drugs or something,” a mousy-haired girl said, pushing her glasses higher on her upturned nose.

  “Yeah, she was gonna snitch on somebody on campus,” said a boy dressed in the baggy clothing favored by skaters. “But it wasn’t drugs she was into. It was blood.”

  Kirk glanced at the group over his sunglasses and shifted his position so as to better hear their conversation.

  “Blood?” a girl with purple-streaked hair asked. “You’re full of shit. She wasn’t no vamp!”

  “No, but she was selling it,” the skater boy replied. “I heard there’s someone on campus running some kind of black market blood ring. Vamps are having a hard time finding legal blood since Crimson Swan got torched. I heard you can make a helluva lot of cash.”

  “Like how much?” the mousy girl asked.

  The skater boy shrugged. “A lot if you’re willing to let the vamp actually bite you, more if you let ’em do it during sex. I heard Mindy had a couple thousand bucks in her car.”

  The girls exclaimed their disbelief, and Kirk closed the book, grabbed his backpack beside the bench, and stalked away. Since Crimson Swan, the only legal blood bar in Jefferson, was destroyed he’d seen a marked increase in his business but that wouldn’t account for the sudden glut of information available among the student population. Someone was talking too much, and he had a suspicion that someone was Piper.

  The little whore never could keep her mouth shut.

  It probably wasn’t wise to recruit on campus, but college kids had the two requirements he most valued: a need for cash and a desire to do whatever it took to obtain it.

  He wouldn’t take on just anyone though. His clientele were selective and so was he. Unlike some of his more equal-opportunity-minded competition, Kirk specialized in “blood bunnies”—young women who were willing to share both their blood and their bodies. Nothing got the blood pumping like a good fuck, and blood always tasted better when combined with the sweet endorphin rush that was sex.

  Clients called him to arrange for a bunny suiting their tastes. Payment was handled electronically and then he sent the girls on their way. Once the meeting was complete and the client was satisfied, he gave the girls five to ten percent of the payment, depending on how well she performed. Any cash tips they received from the client were theirs to keep.

  The best part was that he didn’t have to answer to the Central Donor Registry bureaucrats. No licenses meant no overhead, such as rent or insurance, and no overhead meant more profit.

  But his profit margin would vanish if he didn’t plug the information leak, and soon.

  Kirk entered one of the classroom buildings and dashed up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, to the second floor. Piper’s class would be ending in a few minutes. He wanted to be certain she understood the risks they both faced if word of his operation should reach the Enforcers.

  As he strode down the hall, a door at the end opened and bleary-eyed students shambled from the room. He placed himself along the wall opposite the door and waited.

  Piper was one of the last students out of the room, and she stopped in her tracks when she saw him. A male student talking with the instructor ran into her from behind. Amid a flurry of halfhearted apologies to the instructor and other student, she timidly crossed the hall to join Kirk.

  He waited for the hall to clear and then seized her arm.

  “What did I do?” she whined as he shoved her into the now-empty classroom.

  Kirk closed the door and turned off the lights so the only illumination came from the miniblind-encased windows at the rear of the room. “People know.”

  “About what?”

  “My business. Now, how do you suppose they know about it?”

  Piper shrugged.

  The back of his hand smacked her cheek. “I asked you a question.”

  Struggling to hold back tears, she shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

  “Someone is talking,” he said quietly, closing the distance between them. “Someone who shouldn’t be talking.” He gripped her jaw, digging his fingers into her flesh, and forced her to look at him. “I wonder who.”

  Realization dawned in her tear-filled eyes. “It wasn’t me,” she whispered. She clutched at his shirt. “I swear! I’ve been careful.”

  “If the Enforcers find out what we’re doing, they’ll send me away—”

  “No! They can’t!”

  “—and then they’ll turn you over to the human authorities. You’ll sit in prison for the rest of your life, lumped in with the whores.”

  She sobbed and buried her face against his chest.

  He rolled his eyes. Piper’s capacity for easy manipulation never ceased to amaze him.

  “I’ll find out who’s spreading the rumors.” Her voice was muffled until she raised her head to stare at him. “I swear. Just promise me you won’t let me go to jail if something should happen. I can’t live without you.”

  Kirk gave her a wan smile and brushed away her tears. He gently kissed her lips and enfolded her in his arms. “I promise you’ll never see the inside of a jail cell.”

  She clung to him in the semidarkness while he held her and thought of all the places he could stash her body once she was of no further use.

  seven

  EMILY ENTERED THE FOYER OF THE HOME STEPHEN shared with Janet, closed the door, and leaned against it. Anger she thought she’d rid herself of decades prior had returned, and the desire to scream was almost more than she could bear.

  Before moving farther into the house, she took a moment to compose herself and listen for signs of life. No voices greeted her. No breath sounded in other rooms. No hearts beat save her own.

  Satisfied she was alone, Emily moved to the combination living and dining room adjacent to the kitchen and sank onto the beige sofa. Her conversation with Varik ran through her mind in a continuous loop, refining it until only one point remained fixed in her memory.

  Alex saw Bernard with Siobhan.

  Siobhan Kelly. Vampire. Mistress. Hunter-Talent. Fugitive. And a name Emily hadn’t spoken or even thought of in over forty years. Now she couldn’t banish Siobhan from her mind.

  Maternal instinct arose. Danger stalked her family. Alex’s vision was only the beginning. She had to find a way to protect them.

  But how? How could she protect them from a past she was sworn to keep secret?

  Emily buried her face in her hands. Her mind became a rapid-fire series of questions and scenarios. Each potential solution was rejected as quickly as it formed, until her subconscious dredged forth yet another name she’d forgotten long ago.

  Raising her head, she glanced at her cell phone lying on the table before her. If she called, would he answer?

  “I have to try.” Her whisper echoed like a shout in the stillness of the empty house.

  She dialed the number from memory, hoping it still worked. The receiving phone rang once. Twice. It was picked up on the fourth ring and a male voice filtered over the line.

  “Hello?”

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  He repeated the greeting.

  Emily couldn’t force the words from her lips.

  His tone became more forceful. “Who is this?”

  “Hello, Gregor,” she said in a much calmer voice than she felt. “It’s Emily.”

  Silence descended and stretched for so long she began to fear the call had been lost.

  “It’s been a long time,” Gregor finally said.

  “Yes, it has.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m well.” She closed her eyes, gathering her courage. “I know it’s a shock that I’m calling out of the blue like this, and you would have every right to refuse, but … I have a favor to ask of you.”

  Anot
her lengthy pause was followed by a few simple words. “What can I do?”

  Emily took a deep breath and said in a rush, “I need you to save my daughter.”

  As Varik eased his Corvette over the cruddy road leading to Coone’s Pull-n-Go Salvage Yard, Alex hunkered down in the passenger seat and wondered why she’d ever become an Enforcer.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d thought of her motivations for joining the Bureau. Naturally the strongest impetus stemmed from her father’s murder and a desire for the justice denied her family as her father’s murder remained unsolved. She could’ve become a lawyer and accomplished much the same goal, however. Why had she pursued the role of Enforcer with such single-mindedness that she’d blocked all other options from her consideration?

  The afternoon sunlight hit her face as Varik turned off the bumpy county road and onto the equally pockmarked driveway to the salvage yard. Squinting against the light, she reached for a pair of dark sunglasses she’d hung from the neckline of her shirt and slipped them over her eyes. While sunlight didn’t cause real vampires to burst into flames, much to the chagrin of blockbuster Hollywood productions, intense light did hurt their sensitive eyes. Wearing shades during the day was a small price to pay for the superior night vision they gained in return.

  They arrived at the outer perimeter of the salvage yard to find police cars with their strobing blue and white lights scattered about the crude parking area. Uniformed officers in a group near the cars gestured in the direction of the gate and shook their heads. An old man looked on with unbridled curiosity from a mobile home’s porch.

  “You haven’t spoken a word since we left town,” Varik said as he parked behind an empty sheriff’s department car. He switched off the Corvette’s engine and fixed her with a stern look over his dark aviator sunglasses. “You want to tell me what’s bugging you?”

  “Before I told you about Tasha’s call, I got caught by Damian and the Tribunal’s Special Investigator.”

  “Shit, that was quick. I didn’t think the SI would be here until later today.”

  “Apparently SI Morgan Dreyer has a bug up her ass. She’s coming to observe me in the field, by the way, so you have to behave as much as I do. Damian’s orders.”

  Varik’s spine turned rigid at the mention of Morgan’s name.

  The blood-bond reacted to his emotional change and anxiety washed over Alex. “Is there something about Morgan I should know?”

  Varik opened his door and climbed out, forcing her to scramble to follow.

  “When I mentioned your name she acted as though she knew you,” Alex said as she joined him as they walked toward the fence separating the parking area from the rest of the salvage yard.

  “She and I worked on cases during my pre-Bureau days.”

  “How many cases?”

  He paused, rubbing his chin and lost in thought. “You said she’s coming here?”

  “She and Damian should be here any minute.”

  “I think you and I should keep the bond open while she’s on-scene.”

  Alex frowned. “Why?”

  “Morgan’s an SI. It’s her job to provoke you, and you do have a temper.”

  “So you want to use the bond as a way to mellow me out? It’s a blood-bond not psychic Prozac, Varik!”

  Several humans turned to stare at them.

  Alex moved even closer to him, and the scent of sandalwood and cinnamon called to her, enticing her to touch him. She jammed her hands into her jacket pockets and pitched her voice low. “Besides, we can’t ignore the fact that opening the bond in close proximity to each other for more than a few minutes has certain effects on us.”

  He grinned. “Afraid you’ll jump my bones, Enforcer Sabian?”

  “Don’t be gross.”

  He winked at her over the top of his sunglasses. “You don’t hear me complaining, do you?”

  “And what would you do if the bond took over? Push me up against a car and go at it with half of Jefferson’s police force watching?”

  He tilted his head, and she could feel his eyes swiping over her body.

  She waved her hand in front of his face. “Varik?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  She slapped his arm. “You’re sick.”

  His laughter was shortened by the sound of an approaching vehicle.

  A black Ford Expedition bounced up the rutted drive and parked behind two JPD units. Alex could feel the judging gaze of Morgan Dreyer sweeping over her even from a distance.

  “They’re heeee-rrrrre,” he said in a singsong imitation of a classic horror film.

  Morgan stepped down from the Expedition’s running board, and Alex instinctively stepped in front of Varik.

  He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The blood-bond pulsed between them as he attempted to open it. “Let me in,” he whispered.

  “What about the side effect?” she said quietly over her shoulder.

  He chuckled. “I promise if you throw yourself at me in a lustful manner, I’ll resist the temptation to ravish you.”

  “Asshole,” she muttered.

  “Do we have a deal?”

  “Fine. Deal.”

  Alex relaxed the shields keeping Varik’s psyche from intruding upon her own. The blood-bond surged to life, carrying his thoughts and emotions to her and sending hers to him. She gasped as the circuit completed and a series of recent memories seen from his viewpoint crowded into her mind: a dark-haired doll on a car seat; Alex lying on the rain-slick pavement and screaming at demons only she could see; her mother’s face bearing a sadness that tore at Alex’s heart.

  The memories faded and were replaced with Damian and Morgan striding toward them. Damian still presented his carefully constructed neutrality, while Morgan beamed, her attention clearly focused on Varik.

  He maneuvered around Alex to stand a step or two in front of her.

  As the primary investigator for the case, it fell to him to greet the new arrivals. Alex could sense the conflicting emotions—anger, anxiety, dread, sadness—roiling within Varik. Pieces of memory filtered through the bond to her, but they were disjointed and she couldn’t make sense of them.

  “Bonjour, mon amour,” Morgan said as Varik stepped up to greet her, hand extended. She ignored his hand and cupped his face in her hands, lightly brushing his lips with her own.

  Anger curled Alex’s hands into fists.

  Don’t you dare move. His command filled her thoughts and kept her from rushing forward. He gripped Morgan’s shoulders and firmly pushed her away. His words dripped acid when he spoke. “Hello, Morgan. Don’t ever do that again.”

  Morgan thrust out her bottom lip in a perfect pout. “What’s the matter, lover? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  “I’d rather have my fangs pulled.”

  Alex tried to disguise her stifled snicker as an aborted sneeze and failed miserably.

  Morgan pushed her designer sunglasses to the top of her head. Her hazel eyes had shifted to a bright copper and blazed with contempt.

  An approaching vehicle silenced any remark Morgan would’ve made. Alex watched as what appeared to be a four-wheel-drive golf cart sped through the chain-link fence surrounding the salvage yard and stopped in front of their group. The driver surveyed them with uncertainty before focusing on Varik.

  “Are you Enforcer Baudelaire?” the man asked.

  “Yes.” He moved away from Morgan and Alex fell into step with him. “You must be Buddy Coone.”

  The man nodded. “Lieutenant Lockwood sent me to pick you up.” His eyes darted to Alex then to Damian and Morgan. He took in Morgan’s crisp white shirt, navy pencil skirt, and inappropriate high heels. “The terrain’s kind of rough in the yard, ma’am. It might be safer if you changed your shoes. Wouldn’t want you to twist an ankle.”

  A quick image of Morgan stepping in a hole, falling to the ground, and breaking her neck flashed through Alex’s mind.

  Varik hid a laugh in a cough. Behave yourself.

 
Alex glared at him. I will if you explain where the hell Morgan gets off calling you her lover.

  “I’ll be fine,” Morgan responded, positioning herself beside Varik.

  Buddy looked doubtful. “There are ruts, holes, rusted metal, all kinds of things to trip over. Ma’am, are you sure you can—”

  “I assure you, Mr. Coone, I’m perfectly capable of navigating the terrain without injury.”

  Buddy shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I’ll have to make two trips. I’ve only got room for two of you at a time.”

  Varik climbed into the cart’s flatbed. When Morgan appeared as though she was going to commandeer the remaining spot, Alex pushed forward. She shoved Morgan aside with a well-placed hip, grabbed the cart’s roll bar, and pulled herself on the bench seat beside Buddy Coone.

  His startled yelp nearly drowned out Varik’s stifled laughter and Morgan’s curse.

  Looking over her shoulder at Morgan, she feigned innocence. “Oh, I’m sorry, SI Dreyer. I thought you wanted to change your shoes.”

  “Enforcer Sabian, I—”

  The whine of the cart’s engine covered the rest of Morgan’s statement. Alex pointed at her ear and shook her head, shrugging.

  Buddy directed the cart onto the path leading into the salvage yard.

  Once they were out of sight, Varik’s explosion of laughter and pat on the shoulder combined with a surge of warmth over the bond. I love it when you’re jealous.

  Alex sat up straighter and adjusted her sunglasses. I’m not jealous.

  Oh, yes, you are.

  Envy filled the bond and she sighed. All right. Maybe a little. But can you blame me after Morgan pulled that lover crap back there?

  No, I suppose not.

  Are you going to explain it?

  We’re on our way to a body dump. Now isn’t exactly the best time.

  The cart jounced down the side of a ditch and fought its way up the other side. Buddy swerved around a row of derelict minivans with clumps of brown weeds growing between them.