Dumbfounded.
Complete and utterly speechless.
She hadn’t even thanked the technician, just simply ended the call. The temperature of the room seemed to drop ten degrees as a chill took up residence in her veins.
Dear Lord.
Running her hands across her biceps, she attempted to warm the glacial ice freezing her to the core.
What in the world?
The lab had confirmed her belief. Vlad Tepes had been at the church where the last two dead bodies had been discovered. The DNA on the hair found at the scene matched the one she had taken from the penthouse a few days ago. Of course, Vlad hadn’t denied being there, nor had he confirmed it.
Was she to take him at his word? That his brother was the culprit?
Vlad’s disclosure could simply be his need to cover his acts of violence and bloodshed by throwing his brother under the proverbial bus. Besides, she had no proof other than Vlad’s word that this brother even existed.
Forced air from the ceiling vents rustled her unbound hair, tickling her cheek. She tucked the strays behind her ear and released a quivery breath. Though Vlad had never given her an overt reason not to trust him, was she allowing his good looks to sway her common sense? Janelle was positive he had been the one to break into her cabin, making him aware of her vacationing spot, where she worked, and what she drove. No doubt he knew of her apartment in the city as well.
That alone should scare the living hell out of her.
Add this unsettling call from the lab and she was a bit terror-stricken.
The tech had inquired about the origination of the hair strand she had given them, due to the fact the genetic code didn’t appear wholly human. The technician explained, in terms Janelle didn’t quite understand, that while the chromosomes had some human properties, it wasn’t entirely of the human species, making it something they had never encountered. He had called it a medical mystery, unique, and possibly from a species they didn’t know existed.
After convincing them to keep their findings on the down-low for the sake of the open case, she had answered the tech’s inquiry by sticking with the story she had given her boss. The hair had been found at her cabin following a break-in. Of course, there had been a break-in, but it wasn’t where the hair had originated.
Vlad had her falsifying stories not only to her superior but to the lab whose only job was aiding in uncovering the facts and helping to solve crimes. Janelle had never been one to break the rules, not even for the sake of a case. As a matter of fact, she went above and beyond to prove she was just as good as any man in the field. Never had she allowed her heart or emotions to get tangled up in the mix … until now.
And damn the man for getting beneath her skin.
Janelle sucked in a breath. If Vlad Tepes wasn’t mortal, then what? Her gaze flitted back to the phone. Had the DNA or the results been compromised? Her beliefs centered on the here and now, what could be proven by scientific evidence. Never had she believed in anything paranormal.
Even her visions had centered on what could be explained, nothing supernatural in nature. That was until Vlad. Hadn’t she seen fangs on him in her visions? Evidence of vampirism in him before her gift had gone silent?
What. The. Fuck?
Janelle turned to her laptop and flipped it open. Quickly entering her password, she opened Google and began once again searching on Vlad Tepes’s name. Not that his namesake’s history wasn’t interesting. Vampirism was a well-known part of the folklore since the ruler had practiced drinking his victims’ blood. But nothing of this century came up. It was as if Vlad had just materialized.
She scrolled through several sites, reading countless tales of old Vlad’s history, including that of his castle, Poenari Fortress. It appeared his one-time home now lay in ruins. It was also where his first wife had jumped from the balcony to her death in the river far below to avoid capture by the Turks.
The poor Romanian ruler. What a way to lose one’s spouse.
Studying the image on the screen, she could see a slight resemblance in the eyes and stubborn set of his jaw. A distant relative at best, but her Vlad was far more attractive.
Her Vlad?
Had she lost her damn mind, feeling he was anything to her? Her cell rang, causing her to jump. Janelle quickly closed her laptop as if the caller could see what she had been researching. Taking in another shaky breath, she noted the caller’s name with a smile.
Thankful for the interruption, Janelle slid her finger across the glass and pressed the speaker button. “Hey, Rocky. What’s up, girlfriend?”
“What are you doing later?” The warm husky sound of her voice filled the room. “Please don’t tell me you’re still working. Pssst...dull girl.”
Janelle glanced at the round clock on the wall. Most of her co-workers had probably gone home for the day. She shook her head with a chuckle. Rocky knew her too well. They had been friends since high school, keeping in close touch through the years. When Janelle went to the academy and entered into law enforcement, Rocky began to strut the runways around the world. She had become an in-demand model and lived half her life in New York City.
Rocky’s father had come from Spain at the age of seventeen as an exchange student, living with a nice German family, where he had met her mother. They had quickly fallen in love. According to her father, it was love at first sight. When his senior year ended and he returned to Spain, he made it his mission to return to the States and marry Rocky’s mother, making their courtship one for romance novels. Rocky’s exotic beauty came from a mix of their heritages. Currently, she lived in a warehouse flat in downtown Eugene, overlooking the city.
Janelle sighed, not in the mood for the party scene. “What do you have in mind?”
Rocky tsk-tsked, no doubt hearing her reluctance. “When’s the last time you went out?”
Had it not been for her pit stop at Vlad’s penthouse, she would have gone out Friday. “Don’t judge me. I go to Frank’s Tavern on occasion.”
“With your stick-up-their-asses co-workers?” Rocky groaned. “Go home, put on something sexy, and meet me at the Blood ’n’ Rave.”
“You can’t be serious? I’ve never stepped foot in there. It isn’t my type of scene.”
“You don’t have a type, unless it’s filled with law enforcement people. It’s a bar, Janelle. You go, you drink, you have fun. Besides, I hear some sexy bikers hang out at the Rave.” Rocky purred. “You know I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.”
“Which is why you always end up with a broken heart.”
“At least I take chances. When’s the last time you dated?”
Janelle didn’t bother with an answer because Rocky already knew it had been some time.
“Come on, Janelle. Loosen up. What will it hurt to humor me this one time?”
“This one time?” She laughed. “We always do what you want.”
“That’s because you don’t know how to have fun.”
Janelle could hear the smile in her friend’s voice. And, like any other time, she couldn’t bring herself to decline. It was the middle of the week, so what could it hurt? She doubted the bar would be packed or over-loud.
“Just so you know, I don’t own anything sexy.”
Rocky clapped her hands, the sound carrying through the speaker. “That means you’re going.”
“Give me an hour and I’ll meet you there.”
“Janelle?” Rocky stopped her from hanging up.
“Yes?”
“A pair of skinny jeans, platform wedges, and that off-the-shoulder sweater I bought you for Christmas will work.”
“It’s short and my belly shows.”
“Exactly. Your stomach is flat, so why would you care? Live a little. Wear it or you’ll hurt my feelings.”
Rocky ended the call, not giving her time to argue. Her best friend had infectious energy. Suddenly, Janelle looked forward to a night out. Maybe a few cocktails and dancing were exactly what she needed to forget her present conundrum
with a hair—and the man—that wasn’t quite human. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with Vlad Tepes and his secrets.
* * *
Bright colored beams of light crisscrossed the otherwise darkened room. Industrial music blared from the speakers, the heavy beat thumping against her chest, making it nearly impossible to carry on a conversation without having to shout into Rocky’s ears.
Janelle already detested the atmosphere and she hadn’t gotten beyond the front door. No wonder the soft drone of conversation at Frank’s Tavern was her preference. Either Rocky had spent too much time in New York City or Janelle’s job made her the stick in the mud her best friend already thought her to be.
Several patrons, more than she would have guessed for a weeknight, sat at tables drinking sodas and cocktails, while others crowded the dance floor. Ravers bobbed and hopped in time with the industrial beat provided by the DJ. Glow light sticks, bracelets, and necklaces dangled from their necks and wrists.
Janelle circled the large tiled floor in search of a table stuck in a darkened corner, away from the mammoth speakers flanking the floor. While Rocky adored the attention, Janelle preferred the anonymity provided by the shadows in the corners of the room.
Just as she was about to choose a table the farthest from the dancers, Rocky grabbed her hand and damn near skipped toward the rear of the club, towing her along. Rocky pulled out a chair and sat at a table not far from a second bar, one not visible from the entrance. Being this far back and away from the massive speakers, at least the music was at a more tolerable level where they could converse without shouting.
A man with longish brown hair stood behind the bar, a Gothic top hat perched on his head. A pair of round spectacles sat low on his nose, making Janelle believe they were either readers or just there for the effect. Four large men wearing motorcycle cuts with the words “Sons of Sangue” on the top rocker stood on the opposite side of the bar, conversing with the bartender. Open bottles of Gentleman Jack and shot glasses littered the wooden top separating them. If the bottom rockers were any indication, two of the men were from Oregon, while the other two came from the state of Washington.
Janelle had been at the Oregon Sons of Sangue clubhouse once when she had been hunting down Vlad, following his odd visit to her office when he attempted to convince her the cartel had been responsible for the Flores murders. Her visions had told her where to find him, but none of these men looked familiar. While Vlad wasn’t one of the bikers, her research proved his possible relatives, Kane and Kaleb Tepes, headed the dangerous group. Kane had been the one she met. The four men at the bar weren’t quite as big as Vlad or Kane, but they were menacing nonetheless.
Rocky was keeping an eye on the rear bar and its inhabitants from her position at the table. Even though their presence was intimidating, Janelle could see why they would pique her best friend’s interest. Her taste in men tended to run along the same type Janelle tracked as suspects. These bikers were no different. She’d bet one, if not all, had outstanding warrants of some kind.
The one closest to them looked as if he could walk the runway with Rocky. His jet-black hair was cut short along the sides, left a bit longer on top. High cheekbones and a strong jaw made him even more appealing. Tattoos peeked above the collar of his shirt, appearing to be three crosses, making her wonder at the meaning.
The second man from Oregon was taller and looked to be heavier muscled. His lighter colored brown hair was left somewhat longer to curl over the collar of his vest. The third and tallest man from Washington had dark blond curls, much like that of a surfer, while the fourth, maybe of American Indian descent, had deep brown, shoulder-length straight hair.
Janelle did a slight nod of her head in the bikers’ direction. “I take it they’re the reason we’re here?”
“We’re here for the cocktails and to get you to stop thinking about work, even if for a nanosecond.” Rocky’s smile lit her gaze. “But you have to admit they’re pretty easy on the eyes.”
A woman wearing cutoff shorts and a low-cut, V-neck T-shirt with the club’s logo emblazoned across her ample breasts stopped at their table. A leather cord encircled her neck, a small vial containing an unknown red fluid and a single red bead dangled from it between her cleavage. Janelle couldn’t help wondering what the vial contained, hopefully not what it appeared to be. Odd to say the least.
With a pop of the gum she chewed, the young woman asked, “What can I get for you?”
Rocky ordered a cosmopolitan while Janelle stuck with her usual of vodka, seltzer, and lime. The barmaid snapped her gum again, then trotted off to the main bar. Janelle couldn’t help but note no one used the bar where the Sons stood. Not even the waitresses, who took their orders to the one near the front entrance, even though this one was closer.
Her gaze traveled the room. The same strange necklace wrapped the necks of most of the barmaids and some of the patrons. Maybe a new fashion statement Janelle wasn’t aware of. Then again, being a special agent didn’t give her much time to stay up on the latest styles.
The blond, curly-haired biker glanced their way, then nudged the shorter man from Washington. The two from Oregon briefly followed their gazes, but quickly dismissed her and Rocky and returned their attention to the bartender wearing the top hat. The Washington men kept their backs to their friends, elbows resting on the bar behind them, not bothering to mask their interest.
The barmaid placed two drinks on the table. Janelle was thankful for the interruption. Giving those two attention would only spell trouble. Janelle handed the waitress her credit card and asked to start a tab. Turning back to Rocky, Janelle snapped her fingers, attempting to draw her friend’s focus back from the no-doubt felons.
“As gorgeous as you are, you can get any man you want. Showing those two interest is just asking for trouble.”
Rocky picked up her cosmo and took a quick sip. “I wish. Flying off to different locations for shoots doesn’t leave me time for relationships. Besides, you know how my last one ended … in disaster. Had it not been for the quick response to my 911 call from the bathroom I had barricaded myself in, I’d likely be dead. Thank goodness he’s behind bars for a good long time.”
Janelle didn’t need to be reminded of the asswipe who had threatened to kill Rocky if she left him. The man had gone for his gun and had shot several times through the locked door of the bathroom, thankfully only nicking Rocky in the thigh with one of the stray bullets before the authorities arrived and arrested him.
“You have a habit of attracting trouble. He wasn’t your only abusive relationship. Remember the one who refused to leave your side and went to all of your jobs? It took me threatening to shoot his dumb ass if he didn’t take a hike.”
Rocky shrugged. “Apparently, I’m not a great judge of character.”
Janelle briefly glanced at the bikers again. “Or, you’re just attracted to the wrong kind of man. These guys” —her thumb indicated the men behind her— “you’d best run from, not to, girlfriend.”
“And what fun would that be?” Rocky winked at her. “Maybe you ought to end your dry spell and give one of those bad boys a shot. For crying out loud, live a little.”
Janelle’s thoughts bumped right into Vlad. Talk about a bad boy. He made her libido stand up and yell, “Hell yes,” but she wasn’t about to introduce him to Rocky. Especially since she wasn’t sure if Vlad was even human.
“Excuse me?” teased a deep voice from behind her. Rocky’s widened gaze told Janelle exactly who now stood directly behind her. “Are these seats taken?”
Wonderful.
“There are two stools over by the bar—” Janelle trailed off at the same time Rocky was pulling out a chair.
The blond took the seat to the left while the dark-haired and olive-skinned biker sat to her right. Janelle’s original assessment of him being Native American seemed incorrect, as bright green eyes peered out from thick black lashes.
The blond reached across the table. “I’m Gunner an
d this here is my right-hand, Smoke.”
Janelle shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Gunner.”
“Is it?” Gunner’s laugh was as deep and throaty as his voice. “You look as if you’d rather be anywhere but here. We don’t bite … unless you want us to, of course.”
His broad smile made Janelle think he was quite serious and not jesting at all about the bite. She could easily imagine his pearly whites biting down on a neck or two. His partner in crime, Smoke, said nothing, probably the quieter one. His green gaze strayed to Rocky, making Janelle realize he was the reason the two of them were now sitting at the table, letting Janelle off the hook. Though handsome in his own right, Gunner wasn’t her type, which brought Vlad slamming back into her thoughts.
Rocky thankfully rescued Janelle from having to reply to Gunner. “I’m Rocky Barta.”
“The model?” Gunner asked, tapping his forefinger on the table before pointing it at her. “Of course. I knew you looked familiar. Are you from around here or just visiting?”
“I’m from Eugene, but I also have a flat in New York City.”
“Smoke here—”
Gunner was interrupted from saying anything further when the heavily muscled biker approached. “Hate to break this little party up, but we have to go.”
“Jesus, Ryder, can’t you see—”
“Fuck this shit,” the man called Ryder said, anger evident in his whiskey-colored eyes. “Kane called, said Vlad’s at the clubhouse. We need to return immediately. Wrap this up and meet me and Xander out front.”
Not waiting for a response, Ryder and the one called Xander headed for the exit. Gunner jumped to his feet, Smoke following suit.
“Sorry, ladies,” Gunner grimaced. “Duty calls.”
Without another word, both men followed the other two like a fire lit their heels.
Vlad was at the clubhouse.
One mention of the man’s name and the bikers seemed to jump into action. Was he that important to their organization? Maybe Janelle had been incorrect in thinking he wasn’t a part of the Sons of Sangue.
Vlad (Sons of Sangue Book 8) Page 6