Quicksilver (The Bloodline Series Book 2)

by Gabriella Messina

  Sam quickly took off, sprinting across the clearing and toward the trees and bushes separating the open area from the Ramble.

  She plunged through the brush and made her way quickly to the path that lead through this picturesque portion of Central Park. Of course, at night it was anything but picturesque, and Sam was relieved that her heightened senses were allowing her to move more smoothly through the terrain.

  The Ramble was just as Olmstead/ Vaux as the rest of the park in its own way, but designed to be wild, like a purposefully messy hairstyle. Its winding paths, rocky outcrops, and narrow woody areas were perfect for urban hiking, a romantic rendezvous or a secret meeting.

  Sam followed the path as it sloped down, then up slightly. She could see the faint outline of the Ramble Arch ahead of her, the rocky walls angling into a tunnel leading through the arch, and beyond the faint lighting around Belvedere Castle twinkled through the trees and shrubs. Sam slowed, her forehead creased with a frown as she strained to catch Vincent’s scent. Then the frown faded, and she smiled. He was close… very close… right…up…ahead… She could wait for him to speak first, if he chose to… Ordinarily that would be her choice, but Vincent’s tight-lipped behavior had pissed her off, and her irritation had reached its peak. She thought about simply calling him by name, but then another thought popped into her head… Blame it on the moon and her raging hormones, but Sam decided it was time to have a little fun…

  “Didn’t think that was your scene, hanging with the enemy… Wolfmordor.”

  Sam listened, watched. She knew he was still there, could feel his presence, could hear the hitch in his breathing when she called him by that hated moniker he bore. She’d hit a nerve, that’s for sure… But whether it would be enough to rouse him and draw him into conversation of any kind remained to be seen.

  She didn’t have long to wait. Vincent stepped out from the shadows of the archway and leaned back against the rocky walls. One hand fiddled with his cigarette lighter, twirling it like a mini baton through his fingers as he smoked, a deep frown creasing his handsome face. He kept his eyes down, studying the intricacies of the pathway beneath his feet perhaps… Anything, it seemed, to avoid meeting her gaze.

  Sam smirked. She could back off, leaving him to himself and his reluctance to talk, to open up. But she was in no mood for that. She wanted action… She wanted a response, no matter what it was, and by God she was going to get it. “You know, you were the last person I expected to be hanging around with… Oh wait… Did we interrupt a liquefaction fest or something? Is that why your nose is all out of joint?”

  Vincent’s mouth twitched, a smile threatening to cross his lips… soft lips… warm, soft… Jesus, Sam, knock it off! Sam shivered slightly in the cool air, trying to pull her head back from the R-rated thoughts trying to creep in. Thank God one of the “gifts” of being a werewolf didn’t include mind-reading… the things she’d thought about this man… the things she was thinking as she watched him, his lean, muscular body lounging against the rock wall, at once relaxed and ready, like a panther waiting to make his move. His scent was so strong, powerful and sensual and MALE… Sam exhaled, her warm breath briefly steaming into the night as it left her lungs.

  Still he didn’t respond. Sam sighed dramatically. “So, what, you don’t talk to old friends anymore?”

  Vincent took a final drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. He stood up, the remnants of smoking blowing from his nose and mouth as he exhaled. “Nothing to talk about.” He turned as if to walk back through the arch, a gesture that served to end the conversation.

  Not a chance, buddy, Sam thought as she walked forward. You’re not getting off that easy this time.

  “Alright, that’s it. What the hell is going on with you?”

  Vincent glanced at her, a mixture of irritation and what could only be called affection on his face, like she was a small child or puppy trailing along beside him yapping at his heels. That annoyed Sam even more and any hopes that she was going to turn and walk away went completely out the window when he said those four words.

  “Nothing to talk about? Really?” Sam chuckled. “You disappear for six months and there’s nothing to talk about? How about answering this question… What the hell?” Sam could feel her emotions getting away from her, but she didn’t care. They were doing this, whether he liked it or not. She watched Vincent, his calm demeanor remaining in the face of her accelerating frustration and anger. This only served to increase her feelings, and Sam could feel herself breaking inside, her control over herself withering under the stress of her, well, stress. “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “What. The. Hell.”

  Vincent arched an eyebrow. “What the hell, what?”

  Sam could feel the tears looming as this dance continued. She didn’t want to cry, not in front of him, not over something so ridiculous as this stupid conversation that wasn’t, but it was getting close. She had to get a rise out of him fast and change the tone before it was too late. “You know, I’m not the only one looking for you.”

  Vincent looked up quickly, any amusement or elements of relaxation draining from his face immediately, replaced by anger… and fear. “What are you talking about?”

  Sam felt herself blanch at his response, but she kept her outward appearance calm. Or at lest as calm as it had been, which was not very. “Hudson is looking for you. Apparently, he wants a chat.” Her eyes narrowed. “What did you think I meant?”

  “Nothing. Go away, Sam.” Vincent turned and headed back toward the arch.

  “Go away? Go away?” Sam marched after him. “No fucking way, Vincent! I want to know what’s going on! I want to know why you disappeared in the middle of the night six months ago, and have been avoiding me every since! What are you hiding from? Why are you so afraid?”

  “Enough!” The violence of Vincent’s response startled her, and Sam reeled backward. Well, you wanted to piss him off… Mission accomplished… She watched the stir of emotions on his face, preparing herself for the coming outburst… But nothing could prepare her for what came out…

  “You… are a selfish pup of a woman who has no comprehension of what you are playing with!” The play of emotions across his face were running from one to the next, a veritable storm brewing in his dark eyes and Sam began to wonder if pushing him was a good idea after all.

  “A selfish… pup?”

  Vincent marched back toward her, stopping right in front of Sam, their bodies inches apart. Sam could feel the heat coming off his body in waves, along with the tension.

  “Yes, sweetheart, a selfish pup. You are… completely thoughtless… careless… You blunder into a Werewolf Bund Rally, completely oblivious, dragging your innocent friend into it. That was the last place on Earth you should have been under any circumstances, and yet there you are, right in the middle, smiling and nodding your way through the room like you belong there.” He came in closer, his face practically touching hers… “They want to kill you, love… Do you understand? They want you dead. The only reason they didn’t take you out tonight was because I was there.”

  “Like you could take them all without me.”

  Sam thought it might have been impossible, but she was positive Vincent’s frown deepened more at that.

  “I have before.” He looked into her eyes, and Sam watched as his pupils dilated and his gaze softened slightly. “You have to let this go, Sam… You have to let me go, leave me alone. I can’t fight them and you, too.”

  “You don’t have to fight me, Vincent. Just talk to me… Open up.” Sam’s hand was quickly on his arm, a gentle gesture that clearly affected Vincent. His expression softened even more and his shoulders slumped as he relaxed under her touch.

  “It’s better if you don’t know, love. It’s better if you keep your distance.”

  Sam bristled. “From what? Keep my distance from what? From you? Why? Could you please give me some kind of rational reason?”

  Vincent stiffened, the
softness fading from his expression like the sun covered by clouds. His jaw tightened. “Just stay away from me, alright? For your own safety.” He pulled out of her reach and stalked through the archway.

  Sam hurried after him, pausing before walking through the archway to taunt him once more. “So… you’re just going to run away, are you…Safety? My safety? From you? What are you planning on doing, killing me…?” She paused a moment, listening, before finishing with a bang… “Wolfmordor.”

  Vincent whirled around, a low rumbling growl emanating from his chest. Sam could sense his adrenalin speeding up, his pheromones increasing rapidly as he prepared for flight, or fight.

  “Don’t push me, Sam… I can’t be responsible for what I might do.”

  Sam strolled forward, step by step, until she was within arm’s reach of Vincent. She looked at him closely… His posture tense and at-ready, his curly hair falling over his forehead… his eyes darkened by the heat of his temper, and perhaps more… A little voice inside her told her to back off, let it go, let him be… but… Don’t push me, he’d said.

  Sam smirked as she reached out and gently but deliberately pushed his right shoulder. She prepared for a smile, or a chuckle, to be his response. That was not what she got.

  Vincent reacted swiftly, grabbing Sam by the shoulders and shoving her backwards hard. Sam stumbled backward, only her enhanced balance saving her from tumbling to the ground in a heap. She regained her balance quickly, expecting Vincent to have high-tailed it out of there before she recovered enough to face him. He hadn’t.

  He was watching her with a frown, his mouth poised to speak, when Sam closed the distance between them quickly and pushed him back. Hard. This time Vincent was the one reeling backward, stumbling as he slammed back against the rock wall of the Ramble Arch with a grunt. His recovery was quicker than Sam had anticipated, though, and seconds later he was lunging back toward her, the force of his body hitting her, sending Sam flying backward and onto the ground. It knocked the wind out of Sam and she gasped for breath even as she rolled quickly to the side to avoid Vincent as he followed her to the ground.

  Sam got to her knees and prepared to stand, but Vincent was faster, regaining his feet and going into a crouch position. His eyes were darker, if that was possible, and Sam thought for a moment, just a moment, that they had gone black. She began to worry a bit for the first time that maybe, just maybe, Vincent was as dangerous as he wanted her to believe.

  She didn’t have time for further thought. Seconds later, Vincent lunged again, powering into Sam and sending her flying backward again. She slammed into the rock wall, a jagged edge of rock cutting into her forearm as she slid down the wall and collapsed into a heap on the ground. Sam gasped, a sharp intake of air that was at once a desire for breath and a response to the pain in her arm. It wasn’t a deep cut, but often superficial wounds were the worst, bleeding and aching worse than a major injury. She didn’t have to look to know this wound was bleeding… She could smell it, that slightly metallic odor fresh blood always had. Sam pulled her arm close to her body and looked up, preparing herself for another attack.

  Vincent was standing a few feet from her, staring at her arm with a look of shock and remorse. His eyes had lightened and were clearly filled with worry as he muttered, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Sam…”

  Sam smirked. “I guess I’m not the only one having hormonal issues.” She shook her head. “Help me up, will you?”

  Vincent moved quickly, carefully avoiding her injured arm as he helped her to her feet. “Your arm…”

  Sam waved him away. “It’s fine, it’s nothing, really.”

  Vincent stared at her arm for what seemed like forever. Then suddenly his gazed drifted upward to her face, and Sam could see a distinct change in his demeanor. Before she had time to wonder what that change actually was, Vincent was moving toward her again. This time, though, it wasn’t an attack…

  Vincent grabbed Sam around the waist, lifting her up and pinning her gently against the rock wall she had hit moments before. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes darkening again before he leaned in, his lips finding hers quickly and urgently. Sam could feel his hands under her jacket, his fingers gripping handfuls of her shirt on either side as the kiss deepened. Sam instinctively pulled her legs up, tightening them around Vincent and balancing against the wall. He leaned in more, his body pressed against hers as his kiss took on an almost feral desperation. Sam could feel his teeth gently scraping against her lips, her tongue, and an eager bite to her bottom lip elicited a moan from her that startled her as much as it did him.

  Vincent pulled back, his breathing heavy. He stared at her a moment before leaning in, his forehead resting against hers, then sliding along as he slowly moved his face along her, his day’s growth of stubble deliciously scraping against her soft cheek. He paused, and Sam could hear the catch in his breath, the light sigh, before he spoke with an agonizing softness.

  “Please, Sam… You have to stay away from me.” His lips brushed her cheek once more, then Vincent lowered Sam back to the ground. He backed away a couple of steps before turning and disappearing quickly into the darkness.

  Sam hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. As Vincent vanished from sight, she let out the breath with a whoosh. She sighed, then murmured, “Damn.”

  Chapter 12

  1 Police Plaza

  “The Fourteenth Floor”

  Damn.

  Sam fiddled with the brim of her hat, turning it slowly in her lap as she listened to the men in the room speaking. Getting called downtown first thing in the morning was rarely a good thing, and as soon as Sam walked into the building and found her lieutenant waiting in the lobby, along with her partner Ronne, she knew this was not going to be good.

  Sam was right.

  They’d been there for nearly forty-five minutes already, and the dude from Internal Affairs had yet to ask her an actual question. Not that they needed to. They’d already gone over all of this six months ago, and Sam had answered every question then… twice. This time was different, though. This time they were on the Fourteenth Floor.

  Sam looked up through her eyelashes, carefully studying the faces of the men in the room. Her lieutenant had that familiar look of puzzlement and perturbation, his lips pursed tightly, his eyes almost squinting as he listened to the IA rep speak. Don Martino had been a cop for a long time, and as retirement’s tempting deadline loomed, he’d become almost violently obsessed with finding inner peace any way he could. Right now, he was not feeling the inner peacefulness, and Sam could see the fidgety movements of his fingers becoming more pronounced. He was in control of himself, but she wasn’t sure for how much longer. Her eyes moved to the right, to the chair beside her. Ronne was calm, his brow slightly furrowed as he listened. Then again, it always seemed slightly furrowed, giving him the thoughtful expression of a really hot professor constantly contemplating something deep. He noticed her watching and Sam noticed his eye twitch in a wink, his only outward acknowledgement, a subtle gesture that was a mixture of “hey, what’s up?” and “I got your back, no worries.” Sam moved her head in a barely visible nod, hoping it was enough for Ronne to know she’d received the message. Peripherally she saw his head move in a similar gesture and knew that it had been.

  Now her eyes moved to the other two men in the room. Internal Affairs was often referred to as “the Rat Squad” and the taller man in front of her certainly merited the title. Thin and sharp, his black hair seemed painted on like lacquer, and the lines of pressing in his suit and cuffs were too severe, too precise. Like he was freshly pressed, thought Sam, and she struggled to stifle a chuckle.

  The fourth man turned and glared at her. This was the one that Sam was most worried about, the one that had given her a bad feeling the minute she walked into the room. This guy was definitely behind all of this, and she knew it… because he had been at the Bund Rally the night before. She hadn’t been sure if he’d seen her, recognized her… But when she s
howed up at work and was promptly whisked away to 1 Police Plaza by the Lieu and Ronne, she knew her presence had most definitely been noted.

  “Officer Karolyi.”

  Sam blinked, focusing back on the leader of the Rats and taking a breath to clear her mind before answering. “Yes, sir?”

  “The incident on Saint Patrick’s Day. What happened to the suspect?”

  Sam glanced at Ronne and the Lieu before responding. “As my official statement said, I lost the suspect in an alley behind Trump Tower.”

  “You lost him?”

  Sam nodded, trying to suppress her anxiety. She hoped the Bund Rat wasn’t able to smell fear, ‘cause she was reeking right now. She parted her lips slightly, carefully inhaled. There were no wolves in the room now… no one but her… There was something else, though… a strange scent, familiar and non-threatening, but still decidedly not a “clean” human.

  “You lost him.”

  Sam sighed, her exasperation beginning to show. “Yes, sir. I pursued the suspect from the scene, up the street past Trump Tower and around the corner. I followed the suspect into an alley, and he disappeared.”

  “How did you know he went into the alley?” It was Bund Rat, his scratchy voice giving Sam the chills. She shivered involuntarily.

  “Instinct… I guess.”

  The two glowered at each other, and Bund Rat showed every sign of pursuing the line of questioning, his posture becoming more aggressive. Then suddenly his demeanor shifted, the atmosphere shifted. Bund Rat leaned in, whispered something in the lead Rat’s ear… His demeanor shifted, too, and Sam felt a subconscious thought jump to the forefront and begin niggling at her… the thought that it was no longer safe for her at 1 Police Plaza… or perhaps even in her own precinct house…

  “Well, pending further investigation of these strange occurrences, you will need to be placed on supervised duty. Lieutenant Martino?” Sam noticed the Lieu’s fingers stop fidgeting as attention shifted to him. “Officer Karolyi may remain on the duty roster, but she will need to be directly supervised by a senior officer or detective.”