by Lara Adrian
Some instinct must have finally clued Grainger into the fact that he wasn’t alone in the dank little office. With the skinny tube of processed meat clenched between his molars like a cigar, he swiveled slowly in his chair.
All the color drained from his jowly face.
Lucan gave him a flash of fangs. “You have something that belongs to us.”
Grainger’s mouth opened in mute shock, his eyes bulging in their sockets. The gnawed stick of salted meat tumbled into his lap, along with his cell phone. Lucan severed the connection to the man on the other end of the line with a sharp mental command. Grainger fumbled with the center drawer of his desk, pulling out a revolver, barely holding onto the weapon in his shaking hands.
“What do you think you’re going to do with that?” Lucan asked, confident that the terrified human wouldn’t be able to squeeze off an accurate shot, much less one that could stop a member of the Breed.
Grainger’s fearful, bug-eyed gaze bounced between Lucan and Lilliane. “What the hell are you two?”
Lilliane’s answering smile was cold. “We’re your worst nightmare.”
Lucan nodded. “If you’re lucky, when you wake up tomorrow, that’s all this will be.”
“Fuck both of you,” Grainger shouted, overcome with a sudden burst of bravado and stupidity.
The barrel of the gun wobbled, his finger tightening on the trigger.
With his mind, Lucan whisked the weapon from the human’s hands and sent it clattering away. Grainger let out a high-pitched scream and threw himself out of his chair, frantically crawling for the door. Lilliane planted the heel of her boot in the center of the mortal’s back, pinning him to the floor.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she said. “We need to have a little talk about why you’ve been following me.”
“It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t you I was following,” Grainger sputtered, his cheek mashed into the filthy commercial tile. “Not at first, that is.”
They exchanged looks.
“Explain,” Lucan growled.
“I was on a job. Tailing a cheating husband around the Quarter.” His terrified eyes rolled up to look at Lilliane. “That’s when I noticed you and that fancy briefcase you always carried with you. I saw you going into a candle shop with it one day. And while I was watching you, I swear to God I saw the place just disappear.”
“What else did you see?” Lilliane asked.
The investigator squirmed under her foot, but she gave him no room to break loose.
“What else did you see?” Lucan demanded.
Grainger wheezed beneath her boot heel. “I started following you after that. Shadowed you for a couple of weeks. And I saw you go into that same shop again. Feu de Coeur. Except the shop was in a different place than before. An entirely different part of the city. And then I knew I wasn’t imagining things. Something odd was going on. I knew there was something odd about you. And I figured it had—”
“You figured it had what?” she asked.
“Look, we’ve all heard the rumors. Some place out in the swamp where rich folks go to get their jollies on. Either it’s some club or some weird cult. But they do all sorts of crazy stuff. Some folks come back saying it’s the drugs they were given. Others, they say it’s some crazy shit. People who can lay their hands on them and make their fantasies come true. Almost like they’re transporting them to another world. Look, I didn’t make this stuff up, I’m just saying that is a great story. We’re talking Pulitzer quality.”
Lucan grunted. “Since when do third-rate PIs give a damn about winning Pulitzers?”
“Fame is fame, my friend,” Grainger said.
“And so you decided to hire a couple of stooges to knock the lady over because you didn’t have the balls to get your own hands dirty?”
“I needed to know what would happen.”
“You needed to see if you could profit from it,” she said. “Who were you planning to sell your tape to?”
“You,” Grainger said. “I figured I could sell it to you, to protect whatever secrets you were keeping.”
Lilliane’s eyes narrowed in fury. “You weren’t out to expose the Desire Exchange. And you couldn’t have cared less about fame. All you cared about was blackmail?”
“I never expected to see everything I did tonight,” Grainger said. “I never expected to see a vampire.”
Lucan reached down and freed the man from under Lilliane’s heel. Holding him by the throat, he made sure Grainger got up close and personal with his razor-sharp canines and smoldering amber eyes. “Take a good look, because my fangs are going to be the last thing you see tonight. Right before they shred your carotid.”
“Oh, God, no. I’m begging you.”
“Then you’d better give us every bit of video you took tonight. And if I find out you already sold it to anyone or made a bunch of copies—”
“I swear, I didn’t.”
“I don’t believe him,” she said. “I vote you sever his artery anyway.”
Grainger’s eyes popped in horror. “I’m telling you the truth. You’ve got to believe me. The only footage is what’s on the card in my camera. Please, don’t kill me.”
Lucan wouldn’t murder a civilian in cold blood, no matter how tempted he might be.
He glanced at Lilliane and she arched a knowing brow. “Oh, come on, vampire. Can’t we just play with the mortal for a little while?”
He knew her well enough now to realize she was only kidding, but Grainger didn’t know that. He’d already pissed on himself once, but from the way he trembled now, Lucan wouldn’t be surprised if Grainger wet his pants all over again. Before his grin could betray him, Lucan reached out and pressed his palm to the human’s forehead.
The touch put the man into a deep trance.
“You’re no fun,” she grumbled.
“Remind me never to piss you off, Radiant.” He nodded to the video camera lying on Grainger’s desk. “You grab the memory card out of that camera and I’ll make sure we’re not leaving anything else behind here in the office.”
As she moved to carry out his instructions, Lucan called Gideon at the Order’s headquarters and explained what happened. “Grainger swears he didn’t make copies, but that’s not good enough for me. Can you wipe out all the video files he has on his computers?”
“You seriously did not just ask me that. I can do this blindfolded and with one hand tied behind my back.”
“Just do it,” Lucan said. “I’ll give you five minutes to make it happen. I’m overdue at home and I’ve got a plane to catch before sunrise.”
• • •
THANKFULLY, GIDEON ONLY NEEDED THREE minutes.
With the video camera memory card confiscated and Grainger’s hard drives infested with a virus that no one without a PhD in advanced computer science could untangle, Lucan and Lilliane stepped out of the private investigator’s office and locked up behind them as stealthily as they’d arrived.
“Mission accomplished,” she said as they paused together on the darkened street. She held the small video card between her thumb and forefinger. “To think this little piece of circuitry could’ve proven a disaster for us both.”
He arched a brow. “Not to mention for your candle maker and his unusual shop. And this Desire Exchange place.”
“You heard the man. The Desire Exchange is just about people getting together to have a little fun. It’s just about sex.”
“And whatever you do out there with your rich clients, that’s where the jars come from? And then you take them to this Bastian Drake guy so he can make more candles out of them. Even though it’s one of his candles that made you what you are.”
“I didn’t say it was a perfect arrangement. But what can I say?” She threw him a warm smile. “Extraordinary people have to find ways to work together. Right, vampire?”
“You’re working for the man who made you what you are. You’re working for the man who stole your ability to love.”
“Tw
elve hundred,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Twelve hundred people. That’s how many have accepted his little gift of candles. That’s how many people followed the instructions on the card and suddenly found the courage to embrace their heart’s desire. Do you want to know how many there are like me?”
He nodded.
“Twenty-three. Twelve hundred people find true love thanks to Bastian Drake and his shop. Twenty-three end up never aging another day in their lives and leaping seven-story buildings in a single bound. Whatever magic governs that shop, whatever Bastian Drake is, maybe it’s a fair trade-off in the end.”
“You really believe that?”
“Today I do. ’Cause I got my tape, thanks to you.”
She snapped her fingers and suddenly a light rain of gold dust showered down on his head and shoulders. He smiled despite himself, but by the time he went to brush it away, it seemed to be evaporating already.
“You must be eager to return home to your Gabrielle.”
“I am,” he admitted. “Two days is the longest I’ve been away from her since we mated.”
“Then you should go to her. Our work is done.”
“So it is.” He cleared his throat, holding out his hand. “Not that I don’t trust you with it, but I’ll take that video card now.”
“Of course. I have no use for it.” She dropped it into his open palm. “Consider it a memento of your visit to my city.”
He chuckled. “I hope you’ll understand if I’d rather burn it than watch it. I don’t need any reminders of the fact that both of us were nearly outed tonight.”
Her mouth quirked as she stared at him in the postmidnight darkness. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but it’s been a pleasure meeting you, Lucan Thorne.”
“Likewise,” he said as he slipped the video card into his pocket. He extended his hand and smiled when she clasped his fingers in a firm grasp. “I hope you get it back, Lilliane.”
“Get what?”
“Your ability to fall in love.”
Her smile faded, but the light in her solemn, dark eyes seemed warm with acknowledgment. “Even if it means losing this?”
She vanished from view.
Then he saw her standing on the rooftop of the old house two stories overhead.
“Godspeed and a good life to you, Lucan Thorne,” she called down.
“To you as well, Lilliane Williams.”
She turned as if she were about to walk the length of the roof.
Instead, she took to the air and disappeared from view.
• • •
LUCAN HAD BEEN HOME FOR just over twenty-four hours, too many of them spent in the Order’s war room with his comrades, reviewing the fire he’d put out in New Orleans and gearing up to fight the even bigger problems taking shape in Boston. As critical as his work was with his fellow warriors, the only place he wanted to be was in bed with his lovely Breedmate.
As the meeting wore on, Lucan found his thoughts straying repeatedly to Gabrielle. He’d even go so far as to say his distraction these past few hours bordered on obsession. Every breath he drew into his lungs seemed wreathed with the scent of her. The elusive cinnamon-sweet fragrance tickled his nostrils and made his pulse hammer heavily, his veins drumming with the need to be as close as he could get.
“What do you think, Lucan? Do we take out the Rogue nest down in Southie first or chase down the lead on those skin traders over in Chinatown and ash the Rogues another night?”
The abrupt question from one of his comrades seated around the conference room table snapped him out of his sensory haze. He blinked at Tegan and the other Breed warriors, feeling embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming in the middle of the patrol review he was leading.
He cleared his throat.
“I want those skin traders stopped first. The Rogues are a nuisance, but we can flush them out anytime.” He stood, effectively adjourning the meeting. “I have something I need to take care of right now. Tegan, Dante, you two come up with a plan for the raid on the Chinatown location. You can run it by me later.”
With his orders dispersed, he stalked out of the war room and headed through the Boston compound with a purpose, all his thoughts and senses homed in on Gabrielle. Just thinking about her made his mouth water and his fangs punch out of his gums.
He sought her out like a man possessed, oblivious to everything except the thought of closing the distance between himself and his mate. And the strange perfume that seemed to beckon to him for the past hours only intensified now that he was on the path to Gabrielle’s side.
He found her in their living quarters.
Fresh out of her bath, she was sitting in their massive bed wearing just a frilly little bit of black lace.
God, she looked delectable.
He was so swept up in the sight and scent of her that he hardly noticed she held a book in her lap, which she held up as he approached the bed.
“Your package arrived from New Orleans a while ago,” she said, smiling. “A signed first edition of Interview with the Vampire? I have the best mate in the world.”
He frowned. “I didn’t send that book. The one I bought for you got ruined.”
Gabrielle’s auburn brows rose. “So this must be from your new friend, Lilliane?”
“Apparently so.”
“Does that mean she sent the candle too?”
“Candle?” A twinge of uncertainty arrowed through him. “What kind of candle?”
“That one.”
She pointed to the flickering flame.
For a second, he expected to see one of the burnt umber glass jars he’d spotted in that mysterious shop. But the candle resting on the bureau across the room came from some other, more ordinary store. The label said Cassidy’s Corner and the name of the fragrance was Orleans. He inhaled the air above its flickering flame and smelled vetiver, sweet olive, and a dozen other scents that reminded him of one of the most magical cities in the world.
“This came with the candle,” she said, pulling a delicate white card from between the pages of her book.
He took it from her and read the calligraphic script written on the back of the Feu de Coeur calling card.
Light this flame for your greatest passion and be grateful that your heart’s desire is already yours.
A slightly modified version of the card Lilliane had described to him, the one that had changed her life.
A custom-made version just for him.
And Gabrielle.
She was smiling when he looked at her. “I followed the instructions.” She patted the bed where they’d so often made love. “It works. I’ve never been so grateful to have you back.”
“Grateful,” he said, tossing the card aside to climb onto the mattress. “Gratitude is just the beginning of what I feel when I’m with you.”
And he found himself grateful for something else as well.
He’d lost many things in his immortal life, but never the ability to rest in the arms of a lover, to cherish the smell and feel of the one for whom he felt destined.
And he had Lilliane to thank for that realization.
More from this Series
Deserves to Be Dead
Dig Here
Faking a Murderer
Footloose
Honor & . . .
Past Prologue
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
Copyright © 2017 by Lara Adrian, LLC and Christopher Rice
Originally published in 2017 in MatchUp by Lee Child
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First Simon & Schuster ebook edition July 2019
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ISBN 978-1-9821-3965-0