“Yes.” A thrill ran through him at their names. Stella Silver and her brother were his next mark. A package deal. With stock so low, he was sure it would gain him favor in Patrick’s eyes. “I’m set to leave anytime.”
Patrick nodded. “The arrangement I have with their pack leader should make the way smooth for you.”
“What will you do with the boy?” Bane asked. Bringing siblings in wasn’t unheard of, but usually they were closer in age. The boy in question was only six, while his sister was a ripe twenty-five. It would be years before the kid’s blood was worth tasting, so he knew Patrick didn’t want him for that.
“I don’t know yet,” Patrick said, pondering the question. “I’m thinking of keeping him as a pet until he’s of age. I’ve never had a dog.”
A slow grin spread across Bane’s face. “You could name him Fido.”
Patrick smirked and then glanced at Joshua who’d reappeared in the doorway, waiting. Patrick stretched out his pale, elegant hand and gestured. “Come, child.”
Bane watched Joshua walk over with the manila folder. He wondered when Patrick would tire of the delicate-boned boy and find another. He always did. Joshua had been his assistant for ten years now. Longer than most. Bane of all people knew what the job description of Patrick’s assistant entailed, for that was how he’d begun too. Now, however, when the curtain was drawn and he heard the moans and grunts coming from behind it, it was Joshua pleasing their master instead. And he hated the pretty bastard for it.
“The file you asked for,” Joshua said, with a small bow, holding it out. Patrick took it and dismissed him.
Fondling the silver ring in his nipple absently, Bane waited as Patrick flipped the folder open and scanned the contents. Patrick paused and studied something before his pale-green eyes met Bane’s over the top of the folder. “Average, Bane?”
He shrugged. “What? She’s not my type.”
Patrick arched a brow. “A redhead is not your type?”
Bane cleared his throat. “She’s ordinary, I meant. Nothing like you.”
“I would beg to differ, my son.” His eyes went back to the picture. “She’s lovely. Sweet. I can see why my Jesse would be drawn to her.” He sighed, closing the folder and tossing it on the side table. “She represents everything he’s not.”
“He would betray you for her?” Bane asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it again.
“She’s his ambrosia,” he said, stroking his chin. “He’s fallen in love with her. And first fruits are always the sweetest. It’s the only explanation.”
Bane frowned, not liking the pensiveness in his sire’s voice. He sat up on his elbows. “Please tell me you’re going to punish him.”
“Of course.” He reached for another peppermint. “She’s the pretty, new toy that I’ll take away. And then—” He popped the candy into his mouth and rolled it around with his tongue, gazing toward the door with longing. “—my son will return to me.”
Anger flared to life in him, burning up his good mood. “He should die for this and you know it.”
Patrick calmly set the empty wrapper on the table and leveled his stare on Bane. He said nothing. He didn’t have to.
Bane lowered his gaze, jaw clenching. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . I can’t stand to see him get away with this. He’s making a mockery of you, Sire.”
“Somehow I doubt it’s only my honor you long to defend,” Patrick said, his expression cool. “However, I want you to do something for me.”
Bane looked up, his fingers curling into the black satin sheet. “Anything.”
“I want you to find them. Bring her back to me. Alive,” Patrick said, pausing for emphasis. “Jesse has an apartment in New York and a condo in Belize. Check those first.”
Bane nodded and then asked in a low voice, “And what about Linwood?”
“You are not to engage him. Or his brother, should they be together, and I’m sure they are. Do you understand?”
Gritting his teeth, Bane nodded.
“You do not harm him, Bane. Or you shall live to regret it,” Patrick reiterated.
It took all Bane had to get the words out. “I understand.”
“Good.” Patrick smiled, making his childlike features seem downright cherubic. Though Bane could attest to the fact that there was absolutely nothing angelic about him. Bane glanced down at his left forefinger. It’d grown back, but he could still see faint scarring where his own teeth had bitten through flesh and bone. The healing had hurt almost as much as the act itself.
Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, Bane leaned down and grabbed his jeans, which lay crumpled on the floor. He stepped his bare feet into them and stood, yanking them on as he went and zipping them a little too hard. “I’ll leave tonight,” he said, pulling on his shirt with his back to Patrick.
“No undergarments, Bane?” Patrick observed with mild amusement. “How naughty.”
As Bane buttoned the shirt, he felt petulant and didn’t care. “I fuck a lot. They’re tiresome.”
The comment achieved the desired goal. He could feel Patrick’s mood cool behind him. Their relationship was far from monogamous, but his sire preferred the guise of fidelity. At least within the walls of his personal chambers. “Do not toy with me, my son.”
Bane shoved his feet into his boots, purposely leaving them untied as he started toward the door. Halfway across the room, he stopped and turned around with a sigh. As pissed as he was that Patrick hadn’t issued a kill order on Jesse, he was pleased to be given the job of taking something precious away from the prodigal son. It was damn near poetic. “Forgive me, Sire,” he said. “I’ll do what you ask. I won’t let you down.”
A small smile played at the corners of Patrick’s thin lips. “I’m sure you won’t. Perhaps you should take someone with you. He’ll be aggressive should you be unable to avoid a confrontation.”
Bane’s jaw tensed. “I work alone.”
“He is powerful.”
“So am I,” he spat, curling his hands into fists.
Patrick stared at him a moment. “Very well.”
Without another word, Bane turned and headed for the door again. Just as he reached the arched stone entrance with its heavy brocade curtain, Patrick called, “Oh, and Bane?”
He paused but didn’t turn around. “Yes?”
“Feel free to have fun with her.”
Bane left with a smile on his face.
18
Glass Walls & Bad Ideas
“Mr. Linwood.” The crisply dressed baggage porter greeted him with a hesitant smile as he approached the entrance to the building. “It’s been quite some time, sir.”
Bane stopped and evaluated him. Neatly slicked hair. Immaculately tailored uniform. Black shoes shined and gleaming. He glanced over at the large glass doors that led into the marble lobby, their gold fixtures shining in the early-morning sun. Top of the line. Luxury. The building and the help. He could see why Jesse had chosen this place.
As he turned back to the young man, Bane caught his reflection in the glass. Black hair. Dark green eyes. Strong jaw.
Perfect.
“Has it,” he said, his stance casual. “How long would you say it’s been,” he eyed the name tag, “Daniel?”
Daniel seemed taken aback, as if he hadn’t been expecting a reply. Not surprising. Jesse always had been a silent motherfucker.
“Well, I’d think,” he tugged uncertainly on the lapels of his vest, “at least a year, wouldn’t you say? But don’t worry. I’m sure our cleaning service has kept your apartment in tip-top shape for you, sir.”
Bane sighed, disappointed. He hadn’t really expected to find Jesse here with his bitch, but to learn that it was more than likely a wasted trip pissed him off. Without another word, he walked inside, leaving Daniel stunned at the abrupt end of the conversation.
The air inside was cool and smelled like the fresh flowers that sat in vases throughout the elaborate space. The woman at the f
ront desk looked up, her fingers unconsciously trailing into her generous cleavage as she too recognized him and was equally surprised. Bane briefly considered how satisfying it would be to fuck her while looking like Jesse but decided against it. He didn’t have time for detours, no matter how nice their tits were.
Walking over, he leaned into the desk, gripping the edge with his fingers, and smiled down at her. “I seem to have lost my key.” He lowered his voice. “Do you think you could help me with that?”
She crossed her legs as if just the sound of his voice made her wet. “Of course, Mr. Linwood.” Her smile was professional. “Could I just see your ID, please?”
He gave a helpless shrug. “Would you believe my car was stolen this morning?”
“Oh, that’s terrible.” She looked appropriately horrified. “And your wallet was inside?”
“It was.”
Shaking her head, she turned to the computer to her right. “Let me see what I can do then. I think we can make an exception for such a valued tenant.”
“And obviously you recognize me,” he added.
She glanced up at him with a smile. “Of course, Mr. Linwood.”
Of course. And this was why he appreciated his gift. Being able to look like someone else was not only a thrill, it was also damned convenient.
After a few more clicks on the keyboard, she opened a drawer below the desk and pulled out a shiny new card.
“Here you go,” she said, holding it out to him after scanning its barcode. “And I’ll go ahead and waive the replacement fee.”
“You’re a peach.” He took the silver piece of plastic.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked. “Anything at all?”
“Maybe next time.” He smirked at her disappointed expression and tapped the card on the counter before walking away. He headed straight for the elevators, his boots squeaking across the freshly polished floor.
Though it was no doubt futile, he would check the apartment. There was always the slim chance that they’d entered the building unseen. Riding the empty elevator up to the top floor, he stared at the digital number display as it climbed and thought of his search so far. Belize had been a dead end. The sparse condo had been sterile and unused. Just as he already knew the apartment he was about to walk into would be. None of his contacts had heard from Jesse, either. And naturally Bane had been unable to trace his cell. For all intents and purposes, they’d up and disappeared.
The only lead he’d gotten was when he’d had Simon, the mountain’s resident techie, do an Internet search for any traceable activity. And low and behold, three airline tickets to the Cayman Islands had been purchased two days ago by a credit card issued to one Jesse Linwood. Bane knew better than to chase it, however. The brothers might be pains in his ass, but they weren’t stupid enough to legitimately use their real names and plastic. It had been a clever but transparent attempt at distraction.
He was grinding his teeth in frustration as the ding signaled the elevator had reached the top floor. When the doors opened with a silent slide, he walked across the gleaming marble directly to room 501a. There were only two apartments on this floor and they each had their own elevator. Fancy. Using his trusty new card, he gained entry and went inside. As he looked around, he sighed. Sleek, modern kitchen and living room. Minimalist furnishings. Nothing out of place. Not a speck of dust. Empty. The bedrooms and baths were disappointingly the same.
Scowling, he walked over to the wall of windows that made up the entire back side of the apartment and gazed out at a spectacular view of New York City. This is what someone paid for when they bought a place like this. He imagined it was fucking brilliant at night. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell and dialed. He stared out at the impressive skyline, unblinking, as the phone rang.
Felix’s voice was cool as he answered. “Bane.”
“Been a long time, Felix.”
“Fuck you.”
Bane laughed, putting his hand into his pocket. “I’m surprised you answered.”
“What do you want?”
“You know what I want. Where is he?”
There was a pause. “Who?”
“Where is he,” Bane repeated, gripping the phone to his ear.
Felix’s voice gave nothing away. “If I knew, which I don’t, I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you.”
Bane’s eye twitched. “I’m under orders from Patrick to find him. Your silence is disobedience, you realize that.”
“And yet, I somehow give no fucks. Are we done?”
Not by a long shot. “I will find him.”
“For your sake, you’d better hope you don’t.”
He narrowed his eyes, the warning pissing him off. “And after I’m done with him, I’ll come for you.”
“I look forward to it,” Felix said, his laugh making Bane want to put his fist through the glass in front of him.
Bane hung up and glared at the screen, his anger seething. One day. One fucking day, he was going to gut both of them. He was going to rip out their still-beating hearts and feast on them. And he was going to smile while he did it.
Looking out at the view again, something came to him abruptly and he froze. It was something he’d heard during his conversation with Felix but hadn’t noticed at the time. A noise in the background. Distant, yet unmistakable.
Waves. He’d heard the sound of waves crashing against a shore. Sure as shit.
“I’ll be a son of a bitch,” he murmured, gazing out at the city. Was it possible they’d slipped and were really in the Cayman Islands? It didn’t seem likely, but, then again, there was no denying what he’d heard now that he recognized it for what it was. Maybe he’d gotten lucky. Maybe they’d gotten sloppy. They’d had to have been in a hurry, after all.
He was about to leave when he noticed a photograph on the wall to his left. It was a black-and-white print in a simple black frame. It drew his attention because it was the only photo in the room. The only one in the whole damned apartment.
Walking over, he gazed up at it. At first glance, it appeared to be just a décor piece. A rustic touch in an otherwise ultramodern room. But as he studied it, his gut told him it meant something. It was a cabin in the woods. The thing was decrepit and engulfed by weeds and vines. Looked like it hadn’t been inhabited in decades.
Why was it here? What significance did the scene have to Jesse? Only one personal touch in the entire place and this was it. It had to be important to the fucker.
Using his thumb, he dialed and brought the phone to his ear once more.
Simon answered on the first ring. The greeting was bored. “What can I do for you, Bane?”
He didn’t bother with any preamble. “I need you to get me the location of where the Linwood brothers were born. Where they lived when they were turned.”
Simon’s hesitation was almost palpable.
Bane sighed. “This is on Patrick’s orders.”
“I’m going to have to verify that,” he said finally.
“Do that,” Bane growled. Was every cock-sucking vampire in the mountain afraid of the brothers? “And while you’re at it, enjoy the punishment you’ll receive for delaying me.”
Simon sounded unimpressed. “Patrick gave me clearance to help you search for them, Bane, not to look into their personal files.”
“Fine,” Bane said. “Do what you need to do, but call me back in five minutes with the information. I’ll be waiting.”
He hung up and crossed his arms over his chest, staring out. He’d never heard Patrick speak of the brothers’ turning, let alone of where it’d happened, but there’d been rumors circulating in the mountain for years. Logically, he didn’t think they’d return to the place if even half of what he’d heard was true, but logic wasn’t always absolute. And it never hurt to check out every angle, no matter how improbable. If it proved to be a dead end, then he would buy his own goddamned plane ticket.
As he stared down at the people walking along the sidewa
lks, looking minuscule from this height, he smiled, gripping the phone against his bicep. He would find them soon. He felt it in his bones. And then let the fucking fun and games begin.
***
“So we’re going to see a witch,” I said. We’d been on the road for a while, heading south, after Felix had shown up in the early morning hours and announced that he’d arranged a meeting for this afternoon. He’d also been bearing shopping bags. Lots of them. I looked down at the new jeans and boots I wore. The sweater was new too. Soft, kelly-green cashmere. I rubbed absently at the hem with my fingers.
“Yeah,” Jesse said, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. His free hand held mine. Tightly. It had ever since we’d left the cabin.
I glanced at him. “You’re not happy about it.”
He gave a tight shrug. “I don’t like witches.”
“Why?”
“Don’t trust them.”
I looked back out the window, watching the sun-dappled countryside go by in a blur of orange and gold. It was odd to be having a conversation about witches. Although no odder than one about vampires and telekinetic waitresses, I supposed. “Are you sure this is a good idea then?”
“I trust Felix.” He squeezed my hand. “And he trusts her. It’ll be okay.”
“What exactly is she going to do?”
He pulled up to a stop sign and turned right with a sigh. “I have no idea.”
“What if she turns you into a toad?” I grinned at him.
His expression remained grim. “That actually happened to me once.”
I gasped. “Really?”
“No,” he laughed, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. “But you believed me.”
I smacked him in the arm. “I might just ask her if she can do it for real.”
He laughed again and looked back to the road. “I did cross one once, though.”
“What did you do?” I situated myself in the seat so that I was facing him, holding our joined hands in my lap.
“I tried to trade her a gallon of cow’s blood instead of a virgin’s.”
My mouth dropped open. “A virgin as in a . . . virgin?”
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