by Lynsay Sands
"Four more hours then," Dan muttered, glancing at his wristwatch. "Four more hours . . . and counting," he added dryly. "Want to go for a drink afterward? I know I need one after a week with this bast-- Where are you going?"
Jake heard the question, but didn't stop to answer. He was hurrying through the crowd toward baseball cap boy, every muscle in his body straining to get there in time as the man pulled a gun from the waistband at the back of his jeans and began to level it at their client.
"THAT WAS ONE hell of a catch," Dan said, slapping Jake on the back six hours later as they headed out of R.A. Protection's swanky offices and approached the elevators. Their four hours of work had turned into six, thanks to Jake's stopping and apprehending the assassin in the baseball cap. First there had been the police and all their questions to deal with and then they'd had to debrief their boss, Hank Latham, on what had taken place.
Now, they were finally leaving work, two hours later than expected.
"I don't know how you did it," Dan continued, shaking his head as the elevator doors opened and they stepped on board. "Hell, I didn't even track the guy as a problem, but I sure as hell couldn't have moved as fast as you did. You flew through that crowd."
"Adrenaline," Jake muttered, glancing at his watch.
"You gotta love adrenaline," Dan commented, slapping him again as Jake pushed the button for the main floor. As the doors closed, he commented, "So we get a couple of play days before the next assignment. Want to go for a drink to celebrate?"
"Can't. I'm meeting someone for dinner and I'm already late," Jake said, leaning back against the elevator wall and crossing his arms. He wasn't really sorry he had to decline. He liked Dan, he was a good guy, but Jake wasn't much of a drinker. Alcohol did little for him.
"Someone? Like a lady?" Dan asked with a grin.
"Someone, like sort of family," Jake said evasively.
"Sort of family?" Dan prodded.
Jake hesitated, and then said, "Yeah. You know, that older lady who isn't really a relation but your parents make you call her aunt."
"Ah," Dan grimaced. "Yeah. I have one of those myself. A lifelong friend of my mom's. She and her hubby hang with my parents all the time and she's been 'Aunt Betty' most of my life. Dotty old bitty now, but good-hearted."
"Yeah, this is the same deal," Jake said, ignoring the twinge of guilt the words caused. The lady in question was old as hell, but "dotty old bitty" didn't exactly fit her.
"Well . . ." Dan eyed him silently, and then smiled wryly and said, "I'm kind of glad to hear about this aunt who's not an aunt. You never mention family. I was beginning to think you were hatched or something."
"Nah. There just isn't much to talk about," Jake said quietly. "Most of my family lives on the west coast or out of the country. Haven't seen much of them the last half a dozen years or so."
"Ah." Dan nodded. "So . . . ? Siblings? Parents still alive? Kissing cousins around?"
Much to Jake's relief, he was saved from answering the probing questions when they reached the main floor and the doors began to open. Moving forward, he said, "See you in a couple days," over his shoulder.
"Yeah." Dan said, following him off the elevator.
Jake hurried for the building's exit, but his expression was tight. He knew damned right well that wouldn't be the end of the questions. Dan would repeat them at the first opportunity, and have a dozen more to add to them.
Putting away that worry for now, Jake pushed through the front doors and turned right, moving quickly. He was supposed to have been at the restaurant ten minutes ago. Fortunately, the R.A. offices were downtown, just around the corner and down the street from where he was headed. A three or four minute walk if he moved fast.
Of course, it was possible he was rushing for nothing. His dinner companion may already have given up and left. He couldn't say he'd be sorry if she had. He wasn't looking forward to this meeting. He had no doubt his "aunt" was trying to arrange a family reunion, and while it may have been more than half a dozen years since he'd left the bosom of his family, he wasn't ready to return. Not yet anyway.
Worrying about how to politely say as much, Jake reached the restaurant and hurried inside, only to pause abruptly, his gaze searching the patrons.
"Hi. Did you want a table or are you meeting someone?"
Jake glanced to the young woman who had spoken. Dressed all in black, she was blond, beaming, and perky as hell. She waited wide-eyed and head tilted for his answer.
"Meeting someone," he assured her, and then glanced back to the room, his eye caught by the beautiful brunette waving at him from a table in the back corner of the restaurant. She hadn't left. Damn, he thought wearily and headed for the table. She was on her feet by the time he reached her, and immediately stepped forward to hug him.
"Sorry I'm late," Jake apologized as he self-consciously returned the embrace. "I just got out of work."
"No need to apologize, Stephano. I'm just glad you agreed to meet me," Marguerite Argeneau said, leaning back in his arms to smile at him warmly. "It's good to see you."
"You too," Jake said stiffly as he released her. Voice gentle, he added, "I don't go by Stephano anymore."
"Oh, yes, of course, I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "You go by your second name now. Jacob."
"Call me Jake," he suggested, urging her back to her seat, before settling in the one across from her as another woman all in black approached with menus in hand. This one was a brunette, but she wore a beaming smile as perky as the blonde's at the door as she stopped at the table.
"Good evening!" she said gaily as she set a menu in front of each of them. "Would you like something to drink while you look at the menu?"
"Water," Jake said quietly.
Nodding, the girl then turned to Marguerite. "How is your tea? Would you like fresh tea, or something else to drink?"
"Another tea, please, and a glass of water," Marguerite said, her smile just as wide and beaming as the girl's.
Nodding, their waitress flashed another beaming smile and rushed off.
Marguerite immediately turned to smile at him. "Jake. The name suits you. And I understand you use your father's last name, Colson, now too rather than Notte?"
He shifted uncomfortably as he nodded, and then waited for her to give him hell for being an ungrateful wretch and dropping the name of the man who had been a father to him since he was five.
Instead, Marguerite smiled with understanding and said, "A new name for a new life."
Jake's surprise at her comment must have shown on his face, because she smiled and shrugged.
"I know you didn't want to be immortal, Steph--Jake," She grimaced apologetically for the slip and Jake shrugged it away. No he hadn't wanted to be immortal. His mother had offered to turn him when he'd turned eighteen and the situation had been explained to him, but he'd refused. He was born mortal and had wanted to stay that way. But then some skinny little bitch immortal had stabbed him in the chest while pursuing a vendetta against his boss Vincent Argeneau, Marguerite's nephew. Vincent had found him dying on the office floor and had used his one turn to make Jake, who had been Stephano Jacob Colson Notte at the time. It had been the only way Vincent could save him and Jake understood why he'd done it. He even knew intellectually that he should be grateful for it. But he wasn't. Or maybe he was. He just didn't know it. Mostly he'd spent his time since then trying to ignore it and pretend it hadn't happened, that he was normal and not a freak who had to feed on blood to survive.
"I know you've been struggling with the change," Marguerite continued. "And I respect that. I haven't come here to judge you, or try to get you to see your mother, or guilt you with comments about her loving and worrying about you."
Jake's mouth twitched with amusement at the words. Just saying them was enough to inspire some guilt . . . and Marguerite knew that, but he suspected she just couldn't resist. She was a mother too, after all. But he let her get away with it and simply asked, "So how long has everyone known
where I was and what I was doing?"
Jake had responded to waking up to find himself a vampire much like a wounded animal, crawling away to a corner to lick his wounds. Only his corner was Ottawa which was hell and gone from California where he'd lived at the time. And rather than lick his wounds he did his best to pretend there wasn't anything different. Other than sending his mother and brother short notes in birthday and Christmas eCards, he'd broken all contact with the family while he dealt with it. But since he wasn't really dealing with it, this had gone on for more than three years. But then, what the hell? Time was irrelevant now. He could take as long as he wanted to deal with it.
"No one else knows," Marguerite assured him, and when he arched one eyebrow dubiously, she added, "Well, aside from myself and Bastien, of course."
Jake's mouth tightened. He'd had to let Bastien know. He needed blood to survive and while he might now be a fricking vampire, he'd be damned if he was going to go around attacking and biting mortals to survive. Which meant he needed blood delivered, and Argeneau Enterprises had a blood bank that supplied blood to immortals. Jake was sure there were other suppliers with similar setups, but Argeneau was the only one he knew about, and it wasn't like vampire blood banks advertised in the damned yellow pages. So, he'd had to arrange for delivery of a steady supply. But he'd called Bastien personally, asking him to keep his whereabouts and new name a secret. It seemed he'd trusted the wrong person.
"Bastien didn't tell me," Marguerite said solemnly. "He has kept your secret as he promised."
"Then how--?"
"I'm his mother," she said simply. "I can read all my children as easily as reading a book. He can't keep secrets from me. Although he tries," she added with a grin.
Jake smiled wryly and sank back in his seat. He should have suspected as much. His own mother was the same way and had been since she'd met Roberto Conti Notte and turned when Jake was a boy. He had never been able to keep a secret from her after that, which was damned dismaying to a teenage boy full of hormones. Knowing your mother would know what you were doing was pretty inhibiting sexually.
"I've known from the beginning where you were and respected your need for privacy while you adjusted."
"Until now," he said quietly.
"Until now," Marguerite agreed solemnly. "Because now I need you."
That brought him upright in his seat, his eyebrows high. "You need me?"
"Yes." She nodded solemnly, but then sat back and peered past him.
Jake wasn't surprised to glance around to see the waitress returning with their drinks.
"Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?" the girl asked as she set down their drinks.
Jake glanced to Marguerite as she peered down to her menu. She had opened it, but hadn't really looked at it before this he didn't think. On the other hand, he hadn't even opened his, but didn't need to. He had eaten here many times. The workers were always annoyingly perky, but the food was also always great. It was why he'd suggested it as the meeting spot.
"I know what I want," Jake said now, "But Marguerite might need--"
"Ooh, the quail sounds lovely," Marguerite interrupted.
The waitress chuckled and nodded as she took her menu, and then glanced to Jake in question. "The Grilled hanger steak for you?"
Jake blinked in surprise. "I--Yes," he said slowly, a little concerned that she knew that.
"It's what you've ordered the last three times you've come here," the waitress said gently as she took his menu. "At least the last three times I've been working."
"Right," Jake said, and felt a moment's guilt that he hadn't recognized the girl. Before the turn he'd always made sure to remember details like that, making note of people who served him, showing his appreciation for good service. He'd changed since the turn though. His thoughts now were usually turned inward, and he rarely paid attention to his surroundings or even the people around him unless he was at work where that was a necessary part of the job.
Clearing his throat, he offered her an apologetic smile and nod. "Thank you . . . Melanie," he added, glancing to her name tag. He would make sure to remember her in future.
"My pleasure," she assured him, beaming again before whirling away.
"She likes you and thinks you're attractive," Marguerite said with a grin the moment the girl was out of earshot.
"Yeah, that happens a lot since the turn," he said dryly. "I'm guessing this immortal business includes some kind of chick magnet deal or something?"
"Not exactly," she said solemnly. "Although the scientists at Argeneau Enterprises have noted that we secrete higher levels of certain hormones and pheromones that might affect mortals, both male and female."
"Of course," he said bitterly. "It would make us better hunters."
Marguerite glanced down to her tea and raised it for a sip. As she swallowed and set the cup down, she said carefully, "You must have a lot of questions about how you are different now."
"No," he said gruffly, and then pointed out, "While mother and Roberto made sure I was in the dark as a child, I've known about immortals since I was eighteen. I learned a lot in the forty years before I left California. I know most things I think. I just never realized that my brother, Neil, was such a chick magnet because of what he was, not because of his natural charm and wit."
"Well, see, there's one benefit at least," she said cheerfully. "You're a chick magnet now."
Jake didn't argue the point, but simply said, "You said you need my help?"
Marguerite looked like she wanted to say more on the benefits he'd gained when he'd been turned, but she let it go with a sigh and then asked, "I understand you work as a bodyguard now?"
Jake nodded. Before being turned he'd been a vice president at V.A. Inc. in California, a company with diversified interests. Vincent Argeneau had been the president, but the man had been little more than a figurehead, leaving the actual running of the company to Jake and his brother, Neil. Jake had been the daytime vice president. Neil had taken over at night. But after the turn . . . well, Neil already had the nighttime gig, and most companies didn't need day and night V.P.s. It was only immortal owned companies that did that, catering to both mortals by day and immortals by night. But Jake hadn't wanted to deal with immortals at that point. If anything he'd wanted to get as far away from them as possible, but a similar position in a mortal company was impossible. Vampires didn't work days.
Jake had needed a new career to go with his name change, one he could do at night and one that needed minimal training. He'd always been interested in martial arts and had trained at it since he was six. The bodyguard shtick had seemed a good deal; interesting, exciting even. Boy had he got that wrong. Mostly it was standing around, eyeballing crowds for hours on end. But it was a reason to get up in the morning.
"Well, I have someone who needs guarding."
Jake was pulled from his thoughts by that announcement. He stared at Marguerite with surprise. "Surely Lucian would arrange for Rogue Hunters to protect any immortal who needs--"
"No," Marguerite interrupted. "This situation has nothing to do with immortals. She's mortal and so is the person who is a threat to her."
Jake sat back in his seat, and merely quirked an eyebrow, inviting her to explain. Marguerite was an immortal, and an old one. At least seven hundred or something, he thought, though he wasn't positive. He was pretty sure she'd been born in medieval days. As far as he knew, everyone she knew was immortal. He couldn't think what mortal she would be concerning herself with.
"Her name is Nicole Phillips. Her mother, Zaira, is the sister of my housekeeper, Maria. Maria and Zaira were always close, and their daughters grew up more like sisters than cousins. Zaira was a housewife. She kept little Pierina at home with Nicole for Maria after school and during the summer, but there were days she was sick, or had an appointment and Maria used to bring both Pierina and little Nicole to the house those days with my permission. It was never any trouble," Marguerite added as if she had to
explain why she'd allowed it. "They were good girls. They'd play in the yard, or watch movies inside while Maria worked. And it was nice to hear children's laughter in the house."
Jake nodded, encouraging her to continue.
"Well, Nicole was always an amazing artist, and she did very well, growing up to be a very successful portraitist. Her work is well respected and much sought after," she assured him, and then grimaced and said, "And then a couple years back she met a charming Italian while on vacation in Europe. By all accounts, he seemed to adore her. It was all very romantic, a whirlwind affair. He was suave, promising to show her the world and proclaiming his love in the most passionate terms . . . and she was smitten. Then they married."
Jake's mouth quirked at her change of tone on those last three words. They sounded flat and grim. "I gather things changed once they were married?"
"Oh yes," she said on a sigh. "Nicole tried to hide it, but--"
"There is no hiding it from you," Jake suggested quietly.
"It wasn't me who figured it out first," she corrected. "As I mentioned, Nicole was always very close to Pierina, but she moved to Italy briefly to be with Rodolfo--"
"That's the suave Italian?"
"Yes, Rodolfo Rossi. She lived with him in Italy for a bit and then they married and moved back to Canada, but to Ottawa rather than the Toronto area where her family is . . . at his insistence," she added grimly. "He claimed he could better find a job in his field in Ottawa. But I realize now that he wanted to isolate her from her family."
Jake nodded silently. That was usually what happened with an abusive mate, lasso the woman and move her away from family and friends and any kind of support or interference they might offer.
"Fortunately, Pierina came out here to Ottawa to visit Nicole," Marguerite continued, and then told him, "She wasn't happy with what she found. At first, Pierina just thought Nicole was working herself too hard, working her way into the grave in fact. She insisted she come to Toronto for a girl's weekend to relax and I invited the two of them and their mothers for dinner. I wanted to ask Nicole about doing a portrait of Christian and Carolyn for me," she explained.