Ivy crinkled her nose at him and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Holt dropped down on the edge of the bed and twirled the cuffs around on his fingers.
He wished this job was completed. For once in his life, he was ready to let someone into his heart and that someone was Ivy Green. If Bloody Hell didn’t stand in between them, they may be able to have a relationship.
But there was the damn boat. A boat filled with monsters.
And Ivy wanted on it.
No. Way.
Holt jerked out of his reverie when she opened the bathroom door. She walked directly up to him and held her wrists out. “Do your worst.” Her chin was tilted up defiantly.
Holt wagged a finger at her. “I’m not stupid, sweetheart.” He pointed. “In front but around the headboard.”
Ivy’s shoulders slumped. “Dammit.” She climbed up on the bed and parked
herself against the headboard beside the nightstand.
Holt put the cuffs on her wrists, clamping them shut. Now she was cuffed around the post of the headboard and she wasn’t strong enough to break out.
Ivy wiggled her butt, getting comfortable. “Two things,” she said.
“Now what?” It was getting late. He had to get moving.
“Can I please have a glass of water in case I get thirsty?”
Holt nodded.
“And can I please have my backpack?” She winked. “In case I get bored.”
“Okay.” He had to allow her something. After this was over and he released her, she could have him arrested for kidnapping if she wanted.
Backpack and water in place on the nightstand, Holt hesitated at the door. Should he gag her or should he take a chance? He grimaced. He didn’t like the thought of gagging her. That would be crossing a line. “If I let you go when I get back, will you be quiet and not raise a ruckus while I’m gone?”
Ivy narrowed her eyes. “As soon as you get back?”
“Yes.”
“All right. But you’d better keep your word.”
Holt nodded again and walked into the living room, closing the bedroom door. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing his duffel bag that now only held the tools of his trade.
As he and the others headed for the car, a niggling thought entered the back of his mind.
Ivy had agreed to stay quiet too easily.
Holt shook it off and opened the door of the Lincoln.
He was just going to have to trust her.
* * * *
Ivy sat quietly inspecting her nails for a good twenty minutes after she heard the men leave the room.
With a sigh, she straightened out her legs that had been tucked under her, feeling the prickle of the blood beginning to flow back through their veins.
With a foot, she snared her pack and drew it toward her shackled hands. Working the pack over so she could get to the backside she raised a tiny inconspicuous flap and stuck her finger down inside the hidden pocket.
Pulling out the slim piece of metal, Ivy smiled.
No private detective worth her salt ever left home without her trusty lock pick.
Chapter Seven
Drake Raven left his own wing and walked down the hall toward John’s office, the heels of his boots clicking on the stone floor. Ravencrest was huge by any standards. It was the base for The Unkindness of Ravens but it was also their home. Ravencrest had six wings coming off the main house that, when viewed it from the air, made it look almost like a sunburst. Each of the Ravens—three brothers: John, Eric and Dirk—had a wing to themselves, as did Drake and his brother Holt. Drake and Holt were very close to their cousins John, Eric and Dirk, having been raised together. The sixth wing was now occupied by the newest additions to the Unkindness—Colin and Rogue.
Colin had been the legal representative for the Unkindness until just recently. Though not a true Raven, John, the head of the Unkindness had felt the need to add some new hunters to the fold.
Rogue was soon to be Drake’s nephew-in-law. Grace Shanley had entered Drake’s life and bowled him over. When Drake had brought Grace to Ravencrest, Rogue had come too. Rogue was Grace’s nephew and until he had arrived, Drake had been known as ‘the wild one’. Rogue was quickly taking his place. The fact that Rogue’s middle name just happened to be Raven seemed more than a coincidence. It had seemed like fate had played a hand in adding Rogue to the team.
Arriving at John’s office door, Drake didn’t bother to knock. He entered the office and immediately smiled at the scene in front of him.
Big bad John Raven sat at his desk, his daughter Skylar cradled in his arms. At the moment, Skylar was busily tangling her tiny fingers in her father’s waist length hair while her father desperately tried to untangle her.
“Talk about having you wrapped around her finger—Skylar’s got you,” Drake said, moving around the desk to help disengage the baby.
“I don’t know why she’s so—,” John tugged at a strand, “—fascinated with my hair. She doesn’t do this to Madison.”
Drake unwound the last strand from one tiny fist. “That’s because Madison knows how to be a Mom. She ties her hair back. Looks like you’re going to have to do the same.”
John got her other fist free and immediately threw his hair back over his shoulders. “You may be right.”
Skylar cooed, then grinned.
John leaned back in the chair. “Something you wanted?”
“Yeah,” Drake said, moving to his favorite chair in front of the desk. “What’s the word on Holt?” Drake was worried about his brother going on an assignment with two newborn hunters.
John bounced Skylar gently on his knee. “I heard from him yesterday. Everything seemed fine except the fact that they had gotten delayed and wouldn’t arrive at the last know location of the boat until today. He said he wouldn’t call again unless there was trouble.” John’s eyebrows drew down. “Why the concern? Something I should be aware of?”
Drake shook his head. “No. Not really. It’s just that I’m used to going with him on assignments.” Drake didn’t tell John that he had a strange feeling about this one. An impending sense of doom almost. The vampire Clutch that Holt was going after seemed awfully brazen to Drake. Naming their boat Bloody Hell was almost as if they were advertising. Or daring someone to discover what they really were.
“I didn’t want you to go out right now, Drake, just for the fact that I’m afraid you’d get burnt out. You haven’t had a break since I don’t know when,” John reminded him. “Besides, Colin and Rogue need the experience.”
Drake shrugged. “Let’s just hope it’s not at Holt’s expense.”
Anger flashed across John’s face. “Are you doubting my decision?”
Drake sighed and waved a hand. “Calm down. I’m just worried about my brother. I’m sure they’ll be all right. Holt trained them himself.” Drake stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I am enjoying this time off though.”
John grinned slyly. “So when are you and Grace going to tie the knot?”
“Not for a while. We want to take our time.”
“Looks like you’re having fun doing it anyway,” John said with a wink.
“Hey,” Eric said as he walked into the office, “let Uncle Eric have that kid.” He plucked Skylar out of John’s arms.
Drake laughed. “When are you and Lydia going to add to the family?” Eric and Lydia had been together for a while now and you could tell how deep their love for each other was just by looking in their eyes.
Eric took a seat beside Drake in the other chair in front of the desk. “Lydia is too busy right now, studying blood samples.”
Drake wondered how she was progressing. “It’s good to have a biologist on the team. How’s she coming along with the vaccine?”
Eric shook his head. “A lot of it, I don’t understand. She’s comparing our blood—you know, since all of us Ravens do have some vampire DNA thanks to all of the bites our ancestors received over the generat
ions—to untainted pure vampire blood. She’s trying to get a handle on the difference so she can create either a vaccine or some sort of anti-venom. Even if she only creates anti-venom, we could possibly save some victims and not have to totally transfuse them with our blood supply.”
“Anti-venom? Like they use for snake bite?” Drake leaned forward in his chair. This was interesting.
“Something like that. She’s also trying to come up with something that she can inoculate Colin and Rogue with. Since they don’t share our blended blood—they can’t withstand as much vampire venom as we can.” Eric shook his head. “Good thing we’ve got the lab on the lower level or I’d never see her.”
Drake hoped Lydia would come up with something soon. Dirk had almost been turned his last time out. It had been scary. They had to bring in John’s mother, Lark Raven, to help with the transfusion of Dirk and his love, Casey. Lark Raven was finally coming back to herself, having been mentally trapped in the day that their father had been killed by the vampire Connor Fagan. Connor had been destroyed by Dirk and the rest of them. His destruction had brought Lark back to herself. And now that each of them had found their mate—each of them except Holt, Colin and Rogue—the stakes were higher. Pushing up out of his chair, Drake stopped to stroke Skylar’s soft cheek. “Guess I’ll go see what Grace is doing.”
“What’s she been up to?” John asked. “Is she getting anxious to go back to being a cop?”
Drake laughed. “Thankfully—no. Putting a gun in that woman’s hand could be detrimental to my health. She’s been content to work with Dirk and Casey on the computers. Casey traces the family tree—which by the way seems to be interesting to all of our women—while Dirk and Grace surf the ’Net, looking for rumors of new Clutches forming.”
Drake walked to the door, hesitated for a second, then waved a goodbye as he entered the hallway.
As he walked back to his and Grace’s wing, he chewed his lip. Damn, he wished Holt would check in. Drake couldn’t shake this weird feeling.
* * * *
Holt was on edge and he didn’t like it. He knew the reason and it had nothing to do with vampires. It was the woman he had left handcuffed to the bed in the hotel room.
He took a sip from his glass of ice water and let his gaze travel over the bar. It wasn’t a ‘bar’ really, more of a dance club. Odd for a fairly small coastal town like Crystal View but Holt was more than satisfied with Colin’s ability to ferret out the most likely place a vampire would emerge. If there was any place that a vampire wouldn’t stand out in a crowd—this was it.
The three of them had entered the club, paying the ten-dollar cover to a very pale imitation of Marilyn Manson who was stationed just inside the door. Holt asked ‘Marilyn’ if he would lock his duffel bag up for him. ‘Marilyn’ nodded.
The three of them then fought their way to a corner just above the sunken dance floor. The club was almost packed but it was still fairly early. The club itself, aptly named ‘The Cellar’, was really no more than a house that had been completely gutted and made into one large room. The bar and the surrounding area was nothing but tall tables with high stools. A six-inch ledge ran completely around the room, placed just above waist height, for the wall-huggers and overflow to set their drinks on. The center of the floor had been cut away, revealing the cellar beneath, making where they stood into a sort of balcony. Steel support beams rose up from below and on to the roof, taking the place of the walls that had been removed. Below, in the cellar itself was the dance floor. Access by twin iron staircases was the only way down to the shifting mass of dancers who were doing nothing more than rubbing their black-clad bodies against each other in a simulation of intercourse.
Holt leaned against the ledge and wondered if there were exits out of the building from down below. He couldn’t see any from his position but there had to be. If there weren’t, the club wouldn’t be allowed to operate due to not being up to fire code.
Everyone, including him, Rogue and Colin, was dressed in black. Two people stood out. The two male bartenders whose white shirts glowed eerily under the black lights that dimly lit the enter club. If it weren’t for the iron railing that lined the edge of the floor where it dropped away to the dance floor, people would easily be killed falling over the edge. It was hard to see the floor at your feet.
Strange music flowed through the air like a sickness, infecting your brain. It wasn’t anything like Holt had ever heard. It was a mixture of low flowing bass tones with weeping violins, punctuated with rakes of guitar riffs. There was no beat, no repeating melody. It was loud enough that conversation couldn’t be overheard but you didn’t have to shout to the person beside you.
“What—do they bus them in from somewhere?” Rogue asked, leaning toward Holt but looking to the dance floor below. “I wouldn’t think there were that many Goths in this area.”
Holt didn’t answer. He took another sip of water and tried not to breathe in the scent of alcohol and the thick incense that permeated the place. It was next to impossible.
Colin lifted his glass of wine to his lips and froze.
Holt caught his movement. “What do you see?”
Colin flicked his eyes to the other side of the balcony, across the gaping maw of the dance floor.
Holt followed his line of sight, moving slowly to turn in that direction.
Two women leaned forward against the railing, apparently looking at the crowd below. They were exceptionally pretty but that was not what made them stand out. It was their complexion. Even at this distance, their faces and bared arms shone under the light as if they were made of ivory. It wasn’t the white make-up that some Goths wore to make themselves look pale. No—this absence of rosiness in their skin was natural. Preternatural, Holt thought.
“That’s two,” Holt said. He clinked his glass of water against Colin’s wine glass as if making a toast. “Spread out and check to see if there are more. I’ll keep these two under surveillance.”
Colin nodded and downed the rest of his wine. He moved away to the left.
“Me too?” Rogue asked.
“You take the right side. Go down on the dance floor and check it out.” He narrowed his eyes at Rogue. “If you find another—do not approach them. Come to me first.”
Surprisingly, Rogue didn’t give him any argument. “You’re the boss,” he said. He took off, brushing past two girls who watched him walk away, practically drooling as they watched.
Holt smiled slightly. That boy would never want for female companionship, Holt thought as he moved forward toward the railing. He grasped the cool metal railing in his hand and lifted his glass to his lips. Female companionship. That’s what he wanted from Ivy. Not only wild, hot sex but companionship too. As soon as he thought the word ‘sex’ in connection with the name ‘Ivy’, his dick began to swell.
Over the rim of his glass, Holt caught a sharp movement.
The two women across the way now both had their eyes trained on him. Or rather—on the crotch of his pants.
Holt drained his glass of water and set it on a table beside him. Then he caught the women’s eye. Both of them smiled, revealing elongated canines.
Those aren’t caps, Holt thought as he dipped his head at them. He wanted them to know he was interested but he wasn’t ready to approach them yet. He would wait until Rogue and Colin returned with a report of their search of the rest of the crowd.
One of the women, a blonde, licked her lips, running her tongue first over her upper lip, then her lower in a slow, languorous movement. The other woman leaned into the blonde’s ear and said something. The blonde laughed, showing her equally lethal lower fangs.
A double set of fangs. Just like Holt himself. Only difference being, Holt’s were caps. All of the Ravens were fitted with a double set—uppers and lowers just as a true vampire had—so that they would be more likely to fit in. Holt had never used his fangs to bite, but he had nipped Ivy. And she had enjoyed it too. He would like to explore that sensation further. W
ith her. When the job was finished.
Colin came up beside him, putting his back against the railing. “I didn’t see any others,” he said. “You?”
“No.”
“Didn’t you say you had information that there were four on the boat?” Colin looked at him out of the corner of his eye.
“Yes.” That was what Ivy had told him. Four plus her sister and the captain. “Maybe the others stayed on the boat.”
Rogue returned, looking a little mussed up. “No dice,” he said, taking a deep breath.
“What happened to you?” Colin asked, leaning forward.
Rogue tucked his hair behind his ear. “Got sidetracked for a couple of minutes.” He hitched the waistband of his black jeans up. “Lots of good-looking women in this place—even if they do all want to be vampires.”
Holt snorted. “Keep you pants zipped and your head straight, boy,” he scolded. He motioned for them to follow.
The three began to move along the railing, making their way to the other side and their target.
The two women began to move also. Toward them. They met at the center.
“You boys look like you could use some company,” the blond said, closing the distance between herself and Holt. She laid her hand on Holt’s chest. “Wanna get friendly?”
Holt looked down into her dead eyes and smiled. A wide smile. “Don’t mind if I do.”
The blonde vampire’s eyes went wide at his show of fangs. “Sanguine or…” she reached up and slid her thumb between Holt’s lips, testing his fangs with the tip of her thumb, “…brother?”
Holt sucked her thumb into his mouth and circled it with his tongue.
She smiled and pressed closer, licking her lips.
Holt released her thumb, snaring her wrist in his hand. “Does it matter?”
“No.” She rubbed against him. “Come home with me.”
Holt could feel her pebbled nipples through her thin blouse. “Take me there,” he said.
The vampire looked at Colin and Rogue. “Them too?”
Holt nodded. “Brothers.”
“Let’s take them back with us,” the other vampire said. She had latched onto Rogue’s arm. “We have to tell Catharine there are more of us.”
Holt the Interceptor Page 9