Of course, that wasn’t true. There was a lot amiss about this evening. But it had nothing to do with vampire politics.
* * * *
Raphael strode into the basement holding cells, his bloody clothing gone, replaced by jeans and a sweater. He didn’t want to deal with this now, had no patience for a long interrogation. Something was going on with Cyn, something bad. He could feel her emotional turmoil, her mood swinging from anger to despair and determination all at once. It worried him more than he wanted to admit. He hadn’t told her of his plans for the Dakin charity event, certainly hadn’t told her they were hoping to draw the sniper in. They’d made a point of putting the word out, in circles both high and low, that he’d be there. They’d even gone so far as to have Lonnie start a rumor at the blood house, and the party had been the perfect venue. Will RogersState Park was hilly and filled with trees, giving a potential assassin plenty of places to hide. It was impossible to secure, no matter how many guards one posted.
Juro had argued against keeping Cyn in the dark about the plan, but Raphael had overruled him. Cyn would never have agreed to put Raphael at risk, and it was necessary this time. He’d had to dispose of this assassin as quickly as possible. Had to send a message to Klemens that he had failed, and that Raphael now stood with Lucas in their ongoing hostilities. He wanted Klemens to worry, and he wanted Lucas to win.
He sighed and stared through the window into the interrogation cell. There was no escape from here. These cells had been designed with vampires in mind. No human could hope to get out. Not as long as he was still among the living.
But escape wasn’t an issue tonight, because this particular human prisoner wouldn’t live to see the next dawn. Raphael wanted only one thing from this man before then, and that was the name of the vampire who’d hired him. He would leave the rest to Juro and the others. He needed to get upstairs, needed to talk to Cyn before her anger took her away from him.
He opened the door to the cell without warning and went inside, along with Juro and Jared. Luther Mars sat in the corner. His gaze skittered over the three vampires, but settled immediately on Raphael. Mars was a big man, but muscled under the fat. His face bore a scar along one cheek that bisected his jawline and throat before disappearing beneath his T-shirt, and his eyes had the flat gaze of a man who had faced death and escaped. He wouldn’t be escaping this time, but maybe he didn’t realize that yet.
“Mister Mars,” Raphael began, “you don’t seem very worried.”
“Hey, I figure I’m still alive, so you must need me for something,” Mars said, shrugging as well as he could within the chains binding him to the chair. “Maybe you want me to carry a message back to the vamp who sent me?”
“Indeed,” Raphael agreed. “Although perhaps not the message you imagine.”
Mars gave a short, cynical laugh that told Raphael the human knew exactly how this night was going to end. “It was worth a shot,” Mars sighed out. He winced as he attempted another shrug. “If I cooperate, will you kill me quick?”
“You tried to assassinate my Sire,” Jared said in disbelief.
“Yeah, well, that vamp bastard offered me a whole heck of a lot of money to do it.”
“And what bastard might that be?” Raphael inquired.
“You’ll make it quick?”
It was Raphael’s turn to shrug. “Certainly quicker than if I had to drag it unwilling from your mind. And don’t bother trying to lie, Mister Mars. I assure you, it won’t work.”
Mars sighed deeply, and for the first time since Raphael had been observing the human prisoner, he saw defeat in the droop of the man’s shoulders, the dullness of his eyes.
“What the hell. Bastard’s name is Alfonso Heintz, or at least that’s what he told me. I only met him once, at a bar outside St. Paul. Everything after that, including money and instructions on where you’d be and when, was done by an e-mail dead drop.”
“Thank you,” Raphael said, then reached out with his power and stopped the human’s heart. Mars slumped against the chains, dead.
“Sire!” Jared protested.
“I don’t have time for this, Jared,” Raphael said, his tone making it clear there’d be no arguing. Besides, what was the point? The human was dead. He pulled the cell door open, anxious to get upstairs to Cyn.
Behind him, Jared asked “Do you want me to call Lucas and tell him about Heintz?”
“No,” Raphael called over his shoulder. “I’ll call him myself later.”
* * * *
Cyn shivered in the wet air and hugged the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. She knew she should go inside, or at least put on a jacket, but she couldn’t bring herself to move from this spot. The Malibu coastline was beautiful tonight. The moon was high, and the black water shimmered like silver, so bright it was nearly blinding to look at.
The sliding door opened behind her, but she didn’t turn around.
“Lubimaya,” Raphael’s deep voice rumbled as he stepped up and wrapped his arms around her, tugging her back against his chest.
She didn’t resist, but she didn’t relax, either.
Raphael sighed, his breath warm against her neck. “There was no real risk, my Cyn. I was never in danger.”
“You got shot,” she scoffed.
“In the shoulder. I was already healing by the time we reached the estate.”
“How fortunate that it didn’t hit a few inches lower.”
“Cyn, don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what? What is this, Raphael? What if Mars had been smart enough to use the same ammo I do? You never saw Jabril after I shot him that night in the desert, but he was definitely dead. The stake I drove through his heart was pure overkill. You’re not invincible, Raphael. You can be killed.”
“Cyn—”
“No,” she said and shoved away from him. He held on briefly, then let her go, but not before she caught his wince of pain. Apparently, the shoulder wasn’t as healed as he claimed. He’d concealed that from her, too. She wasn’t even surprised. She met his eyes as she faced him. She had something to say, and it needed to be said face to face.
“You promised, Raphael. And you lied to me.”
“I don’t require your permission for my operations, Cynthia,” Raphael said tightly.
“And I’m not asking for that. But don’t tell me one thing and then do another. Don’t lie to me about—”
“As you’ve done so often in the past, you mean?” he asked, his own anger rising. “How many times have you slipped out during the day, hell bent on endangering yourself against my wishes?”
“Not since Seattle,” Cyn protested. “Not since . . .” She looked away, unable to finish.
“Not since you almost died,” Raphael provided. “Say it, Cyn.”
“Fine. You’re right. Not since I almost died. I heard every word you said when I was lying there in that bed, Raphael. How you swore to take yourself and everyone else down with me if I died. And all I could think about was how selfish I’d been. All those times I defied you, it was a game to me. Just a game. But suddenly it wasn’t a game any longer, and I didn’t want you or anyone else to die because of my stupidity.
“I’m not asking you to clear every decision with me,” she continued quietly. “I know you can’t do that. But don’t lie to me. I may not agree with your decisions, but I’ll handle it. And if you don’t think I’m up to dealing with the reality of your life, then tell me that, too, and I’ll leave now and get out of your way.”
“I don’t want you out of my way,” he snarled.
Cyn stepped up and grasped his sweater in her fist, pulling his face down to hers. “I love you more than life, Raphael. But I won’t be dismissed like some piece of fluff whenever it’s convenient.”
“I did not—”
“If you ever do something like this again, I’ll be gone before the next sunset. It will break my heart, and I’ll miss you every day for the rest of my life, but I’ll do it.”
He y
anked her against him, his grip so tight it almost hurt. “I would search to the ends of the earth for you,” he growled. “You cannot hide from me.”
“I don’t want to hide from you,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. “I love you.”
He studied her silently, his eyes flashing as silver as the moon on the waves. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “But there was . . .” He drew a deep breath, then said instead, “I am sorry, lubimaya.”
Cyn swallowed hard, knowing how difficult it was for him to apologize for anything. He was a vampire lord, a king in his own realm. But taking a stand against him had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, too.
“It’s nearly dawn,” Raphael said, meeting her gaze. He let go of her and stepped back, holding out his hand.
Cyn looked at it, her sight blurry with tears. Earlier, she’d gone so far as to consider leaving the estate and going to her own condo for the night. But he would simply have chased her down, and she didn’t want to leave anyway. She’d never believed problems could be solved by storming out and refusing to talk.
But more than that, if she refused Raphael’s apology, refused to sleep with him this morning, it would cross a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. And it would hurt him. She didn’t want him hurt. She just wanted him to trust her enough to be honest with her.
She reached out and took his hand.
“I love you, my Cyn.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I love you, too.” But she couldn’t help wondering if loving each other would be enough.
Epilogue
South Dakota
Lucas glanced up a moment before a soft knock sounded on his office door. “Come in, Magda,” he called absently, not bothering to raise his voice. Magda was a vampire, one of his own. She also happened to be his lawyer, and he assumed this visit had something to do with that persistent FBI agent who’d finally informed them she’d be arriving this week, although she’d been annoyingly vague on specifics. If it had been anyone else, he’d have told his guards to send the person packing with a few memories missing. But this was the FBI, and disregarding a summons from them could be hazardous. Far easier to talk to the woman, answer her questions and send her on her way happy, or at least satisfied.
Magda strolled into his office with her usual sexy sway. He thought it might have something to do with those spike heels she was always wearing. Lucas wasn’t immune to Magda’s considerable charms, had in fact sampled them back in the day, when he’d turned her. But it wasn’t her beauty that had convinced him to make her Vampire. Beautiful women were easily had, at least for Lucas. Magda was also very smart, and good lawyers were hard to find.
“La femme FBI finally called,” Magda informed him.
“At last!” Lucas said, dropping the report he’d been reading. “When will she be here?”
“Tomorrow night.”
Lucas made a face. “Did you thank her for the advance notice?”
“Hey, she wanted to come tonight. I told her that was impossible.”
“You think she did it on purpose? I mean, she’s been playing coy for weeks, and suddenly it’s ‘I must see you immediately’ time?”
“Maybe. Or maybe she’s just—”
Lucas’s phone rang and he held up a finger, telling Magda to wait a moment. The number of that particular phone was known to only seven vampires, and he recognized which one was calling.
“My lord,” he said.
“Lucas,” Raphael’s familiar voice greeted him. “I have a name for you.”
Lucas’s eyes came up and met those of his lieutenant, Nicholas, who was sitting eagerly forward on his chair.
“It worked then?” Lucas asked Raphael. Lucas had known of the plan to draw the sniper in, though he hadn’t liked it. What he wanted to know now was not only if the plan had worked, but if everyone was well in the aftermath.
“It worked beautifully,” Raphael acknowledged, “although my Cyn might tell you differently.”
“Ah,” Lucas said, understanding. Raphael must have been injured, but clearly not too terribly, or Lucas would have known. “And the vampire who hired the assassin?” he asked quietly.
“Alfonso Heintz.”
“Alfonso Heintz,” he repeated, exchanging a look with Nicholas. “I know him well. This will be his last sunrise, my lord.”
“Go carefully, Lucas,” Raphael cautioned. “I would not lose you over this.”
Lucas grinned and let amusement color his voice when he said, “You won’t be rid of me that easily, my lord. Give my love to Cynthia.”
Raphael hung up without responding to that last, which only made Lucas grin harder. But when he stood from his desk, there was no trace of humor in his expression. Nicholas gave him a questioning look.
“Gather the warriors, Nicholas. We’ve a traitor to kill.”
To be continued . . .
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