by Karin Harlow
“His death nearly killed me. I offer no apologies for his demise.” She slipped on a pair of matching sandals. “So stop whining about your troubles. Do you want the information or not?”
He stood silent for a long time, then nodded.
“Vegas’s boss, Luis Fernandez, is, er, was in bed with Malphas. I took care of that little problem, thank you very much for that. But you have bigger worries. Luis has bought more than a few daemons by promising them fresh souls. He’s amped up the human trafficking in Dade, Broward, and Palm Beach Counties. And he’s leaving a bread trail straight to your door.”
The vampire nodded. He’d been feeling a lot of heat lately.
“He has all three DAs in his pocket.”
“Impossible! They are mine!”
Selena smiled. Vampire or human, a man’s ego was a fragile thing. “Remember in Godfather II when Michael asked the Nevada senator for a favor and the senator turned around and demanded an exorbitant payoff from Michael just for the hell of it? And Michael told him to take a hike?”
Joran shook his head.
“Are you kidding me? You haven’t seen The Godfather?” Selena asked in disbelief. Who hadn’t seen The Godfather? “Well, anyway, Michael, the godfather, needs the senator’s backing to ensure his purchase of a casino in Vegas. The greedy senator refuses. So Mikey’s brother, who just so happens to run a whorehouse off the Strip, has a plan. He slips the senator a Mickey and sets him up to take the fall for killing a prostitute. Of course, it’s documented. So now the senator is beholden to Michael for fear of being exposed. Luis has done the same thing to the DAs. Every one of them. They’re kicking down cases, cases connected to Luis and his thugs, that would normally be charged.” Selena dropped into a chair and watched the arrogant vampire fume. “Well played, I say.”
Joran growled and began to pace the thick Aubusson carpet.
“One other thing I discovered while I was in that cesspool of a brain.” She had debated telling Joran about the death of the female vampire, but figured she owed him the bonus.
“What?”
“Do you know of a vampiress, midtwenties, dark hair, green eyes, a pretty woman who disappeared within, say, the last five years?”
She would never have believed it, but Joran Cadiz’s cheeks blanched white. “What did you see?”
“Vegas staked her.” She kept the details of what the vampiress was doing at the time of her death out of the mix. Somehow, Selena knew it would upset Joran more.
“My—sister,” he hoarsely said. He ran his fingers through his long hair. “I knew she had been killed. I felt it the night it happened, but I didn’t know where or how.” He turned glowing eyes on Selena. “She was wild and unpredictable.”
“Your sister? Blood sister or vampire sister?”
“Blood sister.”
“How the hell, Joran? Did you turn her?”
He strode past her and stood at the window, peering at the sinking sun. “She was twenty-three and dying. I had been turned years before. She begged me to turn her. I was never able to refuse Antonia. I wish I had.”
“How old are you?”
He turned fiery eyes on her. “Nearly nine hundred years old. I was thirty-four when Rurik turned me. Something I will never forgive him for.”
“Ah, now I get your contempt for the Order and its rules.”
“The Order serves its purpose, it just doesn’t happen to be mine.”
“Does Rurik look the other way when it comes to your Miami game because he made you?”
Joran laughed a deep, genuine laugh. Selena was stunned. She didn’t think he had it in him.
“It was I who, as a human, introduced the almighty king of vampires to his consort. He repaid me by making me like him.”
“What’s so bad about it? You have everything.”
“Except the woman I loved. By turning me, he took that away from me!”
Selena felt the first inkling of compassion for this man. Love had nearly destroyed the very thing precious to her. “Love is overrated, Joran. Our kind are better off without that complication.”
He stepped closer to her, so that only inches separated them, and cupped her chin with his hand. “I have never loved since then. I have no desire to lose my heart again. Yet”—he rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip—“I enjoy all the pleasures a woman can offer a man.”
Selena smiled and grasped his hand, pushing it away from her, then rose from her chair. “I’m sure the ladies enjoy all the pleasures you offer them.”
His dark pupils dilated. “Who broke your heart, Selena?”
Such a loaded question, and one she had no intention of answering. “I guess you should know that it was Luis who ordered the hit. He knew Antonia was a vampire. He promised Vegas eternal life for his loyalty.”
The information had its desired effect. Joran hissed in a sharp breath and turned red eyes on her. “Then that makes what we have to do that much sweeter.”
“We implies you and me.” She shook her head and stepped farther away from him. “I’m out.”
He smiled, showing his fangs. “You’re not out until I say you’re out.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Do we have to go through this again, Joran?” Selena said sternly. “I’m my own boss. I have my own agenda at the moment. I don’t have time to be your weapon of mass destruction.”
“Perhaps we can help each other on a more personal basis?”
“No way.”
“You do not trust me?”
“I trust myself and only myself. You of all people know that’s the only way to survive in our world.”
“Survival in our world becomes more complicated every day. To thrive, strategic alliances must be formed.” He bowed as if she were the queen of the Order. “I am at your disposal, Selena. Use me.”
Selena pretended to contemplate his offer. “Until you get what you want from me.” It was not a question.
“We have always been frank with each other. I offer you my services, in whatever capacity you require. In return, I ask for yours.”
“I work alone.”
His eyes flared red.
“You don’t need me to get to Luis.”
“I need you to get into his head. I want to know why he thinks he has the power to grant immortality. I want to know every person on his payroll, every politician he’s blackmailing. I cannot get that detailed information without you.”
“I’m not the only one capable of what you ask.”
“You are the only one I trust.”
“You trust me because you know you hold a sword over my head with the Rev.”
“You underestimate my respect for you. As far as I can trust, I trust you. And not because of any leverage.”
“Damn you, Joran! I can’t. Not now.” She strode past him. “Maybe never.”
Picking up on the desperation in her voice, he dropped down in front of her. “Other than Paymon, who threatens you?” He touched the mark on her neck. “Your vampire lover?”
Selena smacked his hand away, shaking her head. Could she tell him about Apollyon’s plot to take over the Order? She could, but should she? No, he would interfere and want to take over. The groundwork had been laid; if all went according to plan, no one, mortal or immortal, would be the wiser about what could have happened. “I—look, there are things happening I cannot discuss. Things that if leaked could threaten our existence.”
“Do I look like the National Enquirer?”
Selena smiled. “No, never. Everything at the moment is under control. If it goes to crap, I’ll call you.” And she would. She had a newfound respect and a grudging trust for the ancient vampire. If she needed him, he would come.
He stood silent for several moments, contemplating, she was sure, whether to force his issues and extract her cooperation or find another way to get what he wanted. “If, as you say, our very existence could be compromised, how do you expect me to take that information? Stand idly by and hope the world does not
come to an end?”
She nodded. That was exactly what she expected. “You said it yourself—you trust me.”
“Yes, but you are not infallible. You are one, I am many.”
“I’m more than one, Joran.”
“Ah, yes, Los Cuatro.” Her head snapped back in shock. He smiled that suave vampire smile of his. “Do you think I’m so blind as not to know of your involvement with that clandestine organization?” His smile turned wicked. “It is my job to know those I do business with.” He moved closer. “And who my associates do business with.”
“Los Cuatro is a noble organization. It has never interfered with what I do for you.”
“Be careful where you place your loyalties, Selena.”
She blanched at such an outrageous statement. “Do you question Los Cuatro’s intentions?”
He shrugged. “All is not as it seems. Trust no one.”
Her skin shivered. Those were the same words el patrón had said to her. But she didn’t need the warnings of others. Trust was not a commodity she dealt lightly. She lived life on the edge, always on guard, always sleeping with one eye open. She had to—for Marisol’s sake.
“I’ll take that to heart the next time you ask me to trust you.”
His smile deepened; then his face became that of a serious man with bad news. “Your father is drumming up souls along the Georgia coast with a vengeance, Selena. He’s searching for information. Specific information about a woman named Selena. Would you happen to know what information he seeks?”
The blood drained from her cheeks. Drumming up souls was one thing, but probing for specific information regarding her was another. Given that St. Michael’s was off the Georgia coast, it was no coincidence. Did he suspect Marisol was alive? Was that how Malphas knew her secret? “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “We are speaking of trust. Consider it a gift from me, with no strings—this time.”
“I need you to go, Joran. I have things to do.” She moved past him toward the hallway and abruptly stopped. A pissed-off Nikko Cruz stood at the threshold in full fang; his red eyes blazed with preternatural passion. Her blood pressure shot up another fifty points.
“Your lover …?” Joran lazily asked from behind her. Selena sucked in a huge breath, counted slowly to ten, then exhaled. “Joran, take a hike.”
“I’m only a thought away,” he whispered against her ear, then was gone.
Selena looked up into two furious eyes. Rage radiated off him in harsh, biting surges. “Are you jealous?” The need to taunt him was strong. The need to push him away was stronger.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he snarled. But he walked past her into her bedroom, sniffing the air as if he would find proof she and Joran were lovers.
“You really have a hard time controlling the vampire in you, don’t you?”
He strode into her bathroom. “I’m working on it.”
Selena didn’t follow him. She needed to get to Marisol and move her. But to where? She’d thought her daughter would be safe on the island with the nuns in their little retirement convent. But with Paymon sniffing so close, he might ferret out someone who knew his granddaughter lived and where to find her. Paymon was a powerful Prince of Hell, he could easily possess someone and go to the island—but was he strong enough to withstand the power of consecrated ground? No. No daemon could, except perhaps Apollyon, and even he could not defeat the souls of the nuns, or the soul of Saint Germaine, whose bones were embedded in the altar of the small sanctuary. Marisol would be safe—if she was installed inside the sanctuary until this entire mess was cleaned up.
“Selena!” Nikko said loudly in front of her.
She shook her head and blinked, only now realizing he had been talking to her. “What?”
“Noslov. I want him.”
“He’s not here.”
“I can smell him on your clothes in the bathroom.”
“His whereabouts is irrelevant. I gave you the laptop and have the information you wanted. The auction will commence this Saturday at midnight at Lost Souls.”
“That’s all well and good, but I need a seat at the table.”
She looked up at him, her eyes unfocused. All she could think of was getting to Marisol. “Fine, I’ll arrange it. Now, I need to go.” She brushed past him into her dressing room. In her peripheral vision, she saw he followed, but she didn’t care. She pulled off the caftan and dressed in jeans, a light-blue cashmere sweater, and a pair of soft leather mules, then grabbed a jean jacket.
“Where are you going?” he softly asked, touching her arm. His tone caught her off guard.
“I need to take care of something. I’ll be back tomorrow.” She moved past him, but his hand tightened around her arm. “Damn it, I don’t have time for your Neanderthal antics!”
“Let me help.”
A powerful rush of emotion erupted in her heart. Selena caught back a sob, so tempted to let go of the tidal wave of emotion she had been holding back since the day she’d lied to Johnny. She put her head down, not wanting him to see the hot sting of tears in her eyes. She desperately wanted his help. But she could not ask for it. Johnny needed to stay under Paymon’s radar, because if anything happened to her, Marisol would need her father. “You can’t help me.” He let go of her arm and she rushed past him, calling for Juju.
She motioned for the woman to follow her outside, where she whispered her instructions as she hurried toward the dock, then hopped into the Chris-Craft and sped for the private airstrip she had just hours before left.
Two hours later, Selena stood at the edge of the small courtyard in front of St. Michael the Archangel church and convent. It had been almost five months since she had been here. How she longed to hold her baby, to give her Eskimo kisses, to hear her laughter and watch her smile in wonder at butterflies. This was the longest she had ever stayed away. She had no choice. If they were to have a normal future, securing it now was the only way to make it happen. One day, when her daughter was old enough, Selena would explain what she was to Marisol, just as her own mother had.
She inhaled the cool winter air. Marisol’s scent was fresh. Vibrant. Alive. But for how long?
A renewed sense of panic welled inside Selena. She could not take Marisol from here. In her gut, Selena knew this was the safest place for her. But what was she supposed to do? Tell the nuns and Father Ken that daemons lurked and to keep Marisol inside the sanctuary?
She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Maybe that was exactly what she needed to do.
The side door to the little stone convent opened. She stepped back into the shroud of trees lining the side of the courtyard. A little girl’s laughter filtered through the air, followed by the most precious sight in Selena’s life. Her daughter. She ran giggling from Sister Agnes, who softly clucked her displeasure behind her.
“Marisol,” the ancient nun called, “it’s time for your studies.”
“I want to play!” the girl chortled as Father Ken emerged from the church. The chubby Filipino priest smiled at her, shaking his head.
“Marisol, listen to Sister,” he said as she skipped past him and blew him a kiss.
Selena’s heart tightened. Marisol was such a charismatic child. It didn’t matter whom she met, she had them eating out of her hand with just one dimpled smile. Selena wanted nothing more than to sweep her daughter into her arms, but she did not move. Her spine tingled with awareness. She was not the only person watching Marisol.
Selena closed her eyes and deeply inhaled. God help her, her lies were over.
And suddenly, despite everything, all she felt was relief. She exhaled.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nikko softly asked from behind her.
Selena opened her eyes and struggled not to break down in tears. Without turning around, she said, “Because my father would have killed you both.”
She felt it then, his fury. His restraint. “You had no right, Selena!” he ground out. “No right, damn
you!” He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, shaking her. “I loved you, damn it!” He shook her again. Harder. “With every cell in my body, I loved you! I would have died for you, for our daughter! But you never gave me, us, a chance!” His fingers bit into her skin. “I swear by all that is holy, Selena, if you get between me and that little girl again, I will kill you!” He pushed her from him, his eyes red, angry, and—Selena swallowed hard—regretful. Regret stamped every inch of his face.
“Johnny, what I did, I did because I loved you both.”
“You have a hell of a way of showing it.” He strode past her toward the courtyard.
“No! Don’t!” she said, grabbing his arm.
He turned furious eyes back on her, flinging her hand from him. “You lied to me! You were prepared to let me go to prison for your death and kept my daughter from me for eight years! How dare you tell me no!”
“John—Nikko, listen to me. She’s safe here. If you go to her, if you—” Selena’s body trembled violently. “Until my father is dead, she’s vulnerable. You’re vulnerable. I could not bear to lose either one of you.”
“You lost me eight years ago,” he bit off. But he didn’t proceed. He swiped his hand across his chin and stared hotly at her. “Why are you here?”
“Joran told me my father has been soul-searching in the area and asking questions. I’m afraid he may know Marisol is alive. I had to come to make sure she was safe.”
He turned and looked at the little girl who was happily being pushed on a swing by Sister Agnes. “Did you tell her about me?”
Selena wanted to take him into her arms and hold him. But she resisted. It was her life. Forever yearning for the love she could never have. “Yes.”
As she said the word, Marisol looked up across the courtyard and caught Selena’s gaze.
“Mama!” she cried, jumped like a champion off the low swing, and ran toward her.
“Baby,” Selena whispered, and ran past Nikko to meet her halfway. Selena’s heart was so full of love, joy, and fear, she could not breathe. The sweet little girl launched herself into Selena’s arms and hugged her with all the might of an ecstatic eight-year-old.