Holt the Interceptor

by Rhiannon Neeley

  “What?” she whirled, her eyes following his wide back.

  “Best to do what he says,” the blond one called Rogue said as he brushed past. “Holt doesn’t mess around.”

  *

  Holt could not believe the audacity of the young thing that was standing on the edge of the road, hands on her hips, her mouth working to spit out words that wouldn’t come. He managed to mask his smile until he was well past her, his back to her. Holt rarely smiled, but this little imp of a woman looked like she needed a good spanking—and more than likely she would enjoy it. He opened the trunk of the Lincoln and whipped his T-shirt over his head, used it to wipe his face, then tossed it inside. Retrieving a clean one from his duffel, he laid it over the fender then released his hair from the thong that held it. With a shake of his head and a quick rake of his fingers, Holt managed to get very little of the sand out of his hair. He drew it back into a ponytail and secured it, then pulled on the fresh T-shirt. Then he turned to face the imp, closing the trunk lid with a thud.

  Standing there, one leg slightly forward, arms crossed tightly over her pert breasts, the imp glared at him, her dark brown eyes flashing. Looking like she was ready to stomp her foot and throw a fit. Still looking like she needed a spanking.

  Holt sighed. She wasn’t going to make this easy.

  “I don’t know, Holt,” Colin said, nodding toward the woman. “It doesn’t look like she wants to come with us.”

  Holt took a deep breath, and then started walking toward her. He didn’t fail to notice how her eyes, no matter how angry she appeared to be, traveled over him as he approached. By the time he stopped a foot in front of her, she was craning her neck back to be able to look him in the eye. She was standing her ground. She was also the most tempting little bit of orneriness that he’d ever come up against.

  “Look, Miss…?” Holt said quietly looking down at her.

  “Green,” she said through gritted teeth. “Ivy Green.”

  Holt raised an eyebrow.

  Ivy snorted and waved a hand. “Save it, okay. I’ve heard it all and I’m not having a good day.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

  She smirked. “Yeah. Right. Everyone has some sort of joke lined up as soon as they hear my name. Why should you be any different?” She tilted her head in a more alluring way, though Holt didn’t think she meant it to be alluring. There was something in the way she stood, that little spark in her bright eyes, in the way she pursed her lips, forming them into a bow of a mouth that brought out something in Holt that he’d never experienced before. He wanted to sweep her compact little body up in his arms and carry her off somewhere—someplace where he could see just how much spunk this little creature had.

  Holt leaned forward until he was barely two inches from her face. “To answer your question,” he said slowly, watching her eyes, “I am different. Don’t forget that.” Holt quelled a smiled as she swallowed hard, though her eyes never left his and she didn’t take a step back.

  “One thing you need to know about me, Holt,” she said, her voice strong and determined, “is that I can’t be intimidated. So just back off and give me some room.”

  Holt allowed one corner of his mouth to curl up in the tiniest of smiles as he straightened. Oh she’s a hot little number, he thought as he watched her struggle to keep her breathing steady and even. “Ivy,” he said, “you’re going to have to come with us. We can’t get your car out unless we have a shovel to dig it out or a tow truck to pull it out, and as you can see—we have neither.”

  *

  Ivy’s jaw was getting really sore from gritting her teeth. Holt was right. Her back tires were buried up to the rims in sand. She was either going to have to go with them or stand out here in the middle of what looked like a really spooky wood straight out of a Stephen King novel. She really wanted to stomp her foot.

  And I really would like to see what the rest of his body looks like after seeing that wide expanse of muscle when Holt had his shirt off, she thought.

  Ivy took a deep breath. “All right. Give me a minute.”

  “Make it quick,” Holt said. “I have someplace to be.” Then he turned back toward his car.

  “Well so do I!” She couldn’t help it. He was the most arrogant man she’d met. Ivy gave in to her anger and stomped her foot.

  In horror, she saw Holt glance back over his shoulder. And he was smiling.

  “Dammit,” she muttered, stomping to her car. As fast as possible, she gathered everything she could, cursing under her breath the whole time. There was no way that she was going to leave anything of value out here. Who knew what would be missing when she came back. “Damn, I don’t have time for this,” she said to no one in particular, slamming the driver’s door and locking it.

  Holt was waiting, the trunk of his car open.

  Ivy swallowed back a rush of unadulterated lust that washed over her. She just couldn’t help it. She was tired and angry and wishing she could just turn around and go home but she had to admit, Holt heated her up like butter in a microwave. Even with sand in his hair. She slung her stuff into the trunk then stepped back, rubbing her shoulder where the weight of her backpack had dug in. “You could’ve helped, you know,” she scolded.

  Holt closed the trunk. “Would you have let me?”

  “No.”

  “That’s why I didn’t offer.” He walked to the driver’s door.

  Ivy rounded the car and stopped by the front passenger door. Crap, she thought. Blondie was in the front set, looking up at her.

  “What’s wrong?” Holt asked, looking at her over the top of the car.

  “I want to sit in the front.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Ivy closed her eyes for a moment. Took a breath. Then she met his questioning gaze with her own. “I have to sit in front.” She shrugged, hating herself for what she was going to say. “I get … carsick.”

  Chapter Two

  So, she had a little chink in her armor, Holt thought as he drove down the road, the headlights of the Lincoln spearing the early darkness of the woods. He glanced over at Ivy. She was pressed up against the door, almost riding outside of the car.

  Suddenly, she turned and looked at him. “So … just where is it that you have to be?”

  “We have a boat to catch,” Holt said, training his eyes back on the road in front of him.

  “We would have been there by now if she wouldn’t have…”

  “Shut up, Rogue,” Holt said, cutting him off.

  “Rogue.” Ivy turned in her seat. “Do you all have strange names?”

  Colin leaned forward. “I’m terribly sorry. We should have introduced ourselves properly.”

  Holt rested his wrist on the steering wheel and waited. It would be interesting to hear how Colin would introduce three vampire hunters.

  “I’m Colin Moore. This loud mouth beside me is Rogue Shanley.” He paused. “And I believe you and Holt have met.”

  Holt chanced a look at Ivy. She was looking directly at him.

  “Holt … what?”

  “Raven.” Why he had given her his real name, he had no idea. Holt never gave anyone his real name.

  “Holt Raven. Sounds very foreboding. Either that, or you’re a wrestler for WWF.”

  Rogue laughed in the backseat.

  Holt gritted his teeth.

  “At least someone has a sense of humor. By the way, I’m Ivy Green,” she said, looking in the backseat. “Hold the jokes.” She turned back to look out the side window.

  Holt glanced up at the rearview mirror. In the waning light of the backseat, Rogue and Colin were snickering like two thirteen-year-old boys hatching a plan. Again, Holt questioned John’s decision to send the two with him on this assignment. Even if there was only one vampire involved—which was rare—they still had to be cautious. Holt could understand Rogue’s anxiousness. He was young. But Colin had been with the Unkindness for some time, working behind the scenes. Plus Colin was no teenager. He wa
s actually thirty-eight, two years older than Holt himself.

  A slap on Holt’s thigh made him jump.

  Ivy smiled impishly at him, drawing the hand that slapped him back into her lap. “Kind of jumpy, aren’t we?”

  Holt sighed.

  “You never told me just exactly where you’re going,” she said.

  “I still can’t believe the name of that boat,” Rogue said. “Bloody Hell. That’s probably exactly what it is.”

  Ivy jerked in her seat, turning to face Rogue. “What did you just say?”

  Holt studied her expression. Her eyes were intense, the set of her pretty little mouth stone serious. What had Rogue said that interested her so?

  *

  Ivy’s heart had skipped a beat when Rogue had blurted out the name of the exact boat she was looking for. Bloody Hell. How strong a coincidence could there be in this world? She runs off the road in the middle of nowhere only to end up in a car full of gorgeous men who happen to be going the same place she is? And why were they looking for Bloody Hell? The boat was supposedly owned by self-proclaimed vampires.

  A moment later, Ivy understood why they were looking for the same thing she was.

  Rogue leaned forward and smiled. Widely. Ivy fought to keep the same expression on her face but she couldn’t help staring. Rogue had fangs.

  Sanguinarian.

  “I said, I believe someone named their boat Bloody Hell.” Rogue’s smile didn’t diminish. In fact, he leaned closer. “Sounds like they’re beggin' for trouble, naming a boat like that, don’t it?”

  Ivy held her ground, fighting an urge to drop back into her seat. She searched Rogue’s face. The light was waning but she caught a glimmer in his blue eyes. It was either interest or a dare. If he was daring her, she’d just have to call his bluff. “Funny,” she said, resting her arms on the back of the seat, “that’s the same boat I’m looking for. Mind if I tag along?”

  “That would be…”

  “No way,” Holt said, his voice a sonic boom inside the confines of the car.

  Ivy dropped back into her seat, the force of his voice shocking her. She eyed Holt, gauging his expression. He sat stiffly behind the wheel, hands gripping it as if it might get away from him. His jaw was tight, his face stern. Ivy wondered just what Holt Raven was all about. He was tall, strong and handsome even if he did look a little scary. But on Holt—scary was a drug that Ivy could easily become addicted to. He can probably pick me up like a piece of fluff, she thought, letting her eyes roam over his biceps. A tickle wiggled down low in her tummy. Ivy licked her lips and mentally shook herself. She was attracted to Holt—boy was she ever—but she had a mission to complete. Damn Heather again. Now it seemed her wayward sister was interfering with her sexual appetite too. Ivy couldn’t wait to get her hands on Heather.

  Okay, Ivy, get your head out of the gutter and figure this out, she told herself. There were three approaches she could use to wrangle this little problem. She could play it sweet and try to get on Holt’s good side, she could figure out just exactly what these men were up to and play it as if she was one of them or … she could just outright refuse to get out of the car. She didn’t think that last one was going to work so she immediately scratched it off her list. Sweet was the opposite of her view of herself. That left acting as if she was one of them.

  Looking for blood sport.

  The one she needed to get on her side was obviously Holt. They followed him.

  “You know, you’re awfully quick about saying I can’t come along,” Ivy said slowly.

  Holt shrugged a shoulder.

  Ivy sighed. “I won’t be any trouble.”

  “You’ve already been … trouble.”

  Anger flared inside but Ivy tamped it down. “I didn’t mean to be. Listen, Catharine and Elizabeth were just in Chicago and…”

  “You know them?” He looked at her, his eyes intense, even in the coming darkness.

  Uh-oh, she thought. Now what? “Well, yeah, kind of.”

  They were coming into a town. Holt slowed for the lower speed limit.

  “How do you know them?” he asked, stopping for a red light. He turned in his seat and leaned toward her. “How?”

  Ivy leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “My sister is with them.” She said softly.

  Holt’s dark eyes scrutinized her. Suddenly, he brought his hand up and cupped her cheek.

  Ivy felt a shock race through her at his touch. Holt brushed his thumb gently over her lower lip. She felt her insides heat and instinctively her lips parted. His thumb moved to her upper lip, pressed, lifted it to expose her teeth.

  “You’re not one of them,” he said, his eyes caressing her mouth.

  “No,” she breathed. “Not yet.”

  His eyes snapped to hers. He let his hand drop. “Not yet,” he repeated.

  “Light’s green,” Rogue said.

  Holt’s eyes held hers for another breath of a moment before he turned away.

  Ivy settled back into her seat and stared through the windshield. His touch had shaken her. And there was something in his eyes. Ivy slowly sucked in a calming breath. Holt’s gaze had been intense, scrutinizing but deep in those dark eyes of his, Ivy thought she caught the remnants of an old soul. A warrior, wise and battle-worn was contained deep inside that muscular body.

  Stop it, she scolded herself. You’re romanticizing. Holt Raven was no more than a man. A stranger. Someone who could lead her exactly where she needed to go. From the glimpse of Rogue’s fangs, Ivy figured all three of these men were on the same quest. To find the boat, Bloody Hell and the occupants of it.

  Women professing to be vampires.

  The car stopped again, a red light delaying them a second time.

  “I don’t think we’re going to find anything open in this town,” Colin said. “Looks like the place is closed up for the night.”

  Ivy had noticed that the little shops lining either side of the street were dark. She glanced at her watch and frowned. It was nine-thirty. Just going full dark. How had it gotten so late?

  “I guess I’m not going to be able to get my car out tonight, huh?” Ivy shot a look at Holt. She suppressed a smile when she noticed his jaw clench. “Guess you’re stuck with me,” she added.

  Holt floored the car.

  Ivy grabbed the armrest, cringing, waiting for the car to be broadsided. “Do you have to drive like that?”

  The corner of Holt’s mouth quirked up. “Light was green.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  Within a few minutes, they were past the city limits and heading into yet another stretch of woods.

  “Good grief, where is everybody?” Ivy waved her hand at the windshield. “We haven’t seen another car or anything. And these woods … what?… Are these trees endangered or something? Doesn’t anybody own a saw?”

  “I think it’s primal,” Colin said, his voice a mellow tone from the backseat.

  Rogue chimed in with his southern drawl. “Bet there’s good squirrel hunting up here.”

  “Do you complain all of the time?” Holt asked, his voice a low rumble.

  “No…” Ivy sighed again. “It’s just that…”

  “What?” Holt glanced at her.

  Ivy tried her big-eyed little girl look. “Nothing has gone right for me today, that’s all.” She thought she saw a softening in his eyes but she couldn’t be sure in the dim dash light.

  He straightened in his seat, looking ahead.

  Ivy followed his gaze. Lights up ahead. A motel.

  “We’re stopping for the night,” Holt announced, slowing the car.

  Ivy turned to face him. “Can’t we go to Bloody Hell?”

  Roaring laughter issued from the backseat. Holt smiled a small smile.

  Ivy slapped her thigh. “What?” Her eyes darted from face to face. “What’d I say?”

  Then it hit her. Good grief. ‘Can’t we go to Bloody Hell?’ She sounded like an idiot.

  * * * *

 
; Holt pulled the Lincoln into one of the two spots in front of the motel office. The word ‘Office’ glared garishly in neon orange in the window. He killed the engine and got out.

  The motel was a one-story strip of rooms shaped like a boomerang, the office centered at the apex. It looked like five rooms on each wing. He scanned the parking spaces. There were only two rooms that didn’t have a car or pickup parked in front. One in the center of the right wing. One all the way on the far end of the left. No movement outside the motel, even though the place looked almost filled to capacity.

  The others got out of the car. Colin came up beside him. “Don’t you find it odd that we haven’t seen a car for miles and now the parking lot here is full?” he asked.

  Holt did find it odd. “Let’s go inside.” He started toward the door of the office.

  A small hand latched onto his arm as he reached for the office door. “Wait a minute.” Holt looked down into a pair of big brown eyes that were rimmed with thick black lashes. Eyes he could drown in if he wasn’t careful.

  Something passed over Ivy’s eyes. A flicker. Then she blinked and it was gone. “Look,” she said, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to find anybody around here to pull my car out, so I’m kind of stuck.” Her tiny hand squeezed his forearm. “From the looks of things, they probably only have two rooms left. If that’s the case … I’d be willing to share one with you.”

  Holt couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What? You want me to say you’re my wife?”

  She smiled. “If that’s what it takes.”

  Good thing that I have some measure of control, he thought. Otherwise, she might get more than she bargained for. “All right,” he said. He started to open the door.

  “Holt?”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Will you be a gentleman?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Yes.” Damn. He would too.

  Ivy’s lower lip pushed out. “Darn,” she said.

  Holt delved into her eyes, searching. Was she playing some kind of game with him? He decided he’d just wait and see. He opened the door. “Ladies first.”