by Mary Hughes
“Every time you say that, the price goes up,” Little said. “I want a half million dollars—and control of Holiday Buzz. Majority stock transferred to me at three p.m.. Today. And Synnove will deliver the authorizations in person.”
Ric’s chest tightened. All the times Nosferatu and his sadistic trainers had threatened Ric’s life, he hadn’t felt this desperate.
“Is she there with you now?” Charles said, softly menacing. “Let’s hear what she has to say. Why don’t you put her on the line?”
“No.” Icicles stabbed Ric’s heart. Charles Little had just made himself Enemy Number One. And this had ramped up to war.
Ric summoned his predator’s instincts and his businessman’s brain, neither far from him. The ice burned away in a tumult of angry fire. “You’re not talking to her. And she’s not going anywhere.”
“That’s too bad,” Little said. “Because if I don’t get what I want, I have another interested party. Mr. Nosferatu.”
That cracked Ric’s anger. “Damn it, I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”
“And I can’t believe it took me so long.” He cackled. Chicken Little indeed.
“I’ll get you your stock,” Ric spat. “Hell, you can have the company. But you may not have—” he cut a glance at his beautiful blonde with the too-sharp eyes, “—any person under my protection.”
Now to move the sale along. “I’ll set up the stock transfer and the cash.” There. That would remind Little what he wanted that Ric would give. “Electronic, contingent on my ratification. We’ll meet at the office, tonight at nine. You bring the portrait and the receiving account numbers. When I get the picture, I’ll complete the transfers.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot? Camille told me what you are, Holiday—well, I knew your looks couldn’t be natural. I’m not insane enough to meet you after dark. The girl is not a negotiable item, nor is the time. I’ll have to contact my other interested party.”
“Little, wait—” The connection cut. Ric felt like he was breathing fire. “He hung up on me.” He stared at his phone. He’d lost control of the situation, like the time he’d had to abandon Eloise.
His anger chilled, leaving him scared.
“What did he want?” Synnove asked.
He fell into her clear blue eyes. Reaching out with a thumb to caress her healthy pink skin he breathed in her light clean scent. She had outer beauty, yes. But it was a reflection of her inner beauty, her inner strength.
His heart rate slowed. She was a strong, beautiful woman, not a helpless little girl. “He wanted what we figured. Money. Stock. Control of the company.”
“There’s more,” she said. “What else?”
She was with him and almost ahead of him. He’d have his work cut out for him, keeping up with her. He wanted a lifetime of it. “He wants it through an agent.” He bit off the words in a way that hopefully made her see the topic was closed. But to be sure he followed up with something to distract her. “I need access to a computer to set up the transfers. Do you have one here at the cabin?”
“No.” Her tone was suspicious and her beautiful blue eyes were sharply narrowed. “What about your phone?”
“Normally, but I’m out range for my network.”
“Except you just took a phone call.”
Shit. “I don’t have the right app. Don’t you have anything?”
Aiden raised a black brow at him. He knew both their phones could tap dance and lip sync the “Star Spangled Banner” if they needed them to. Ric shook his head. Distracting Synnove was more important.
Synnove grimaced. “Twyla might have a 4G tablet. She’s plugged in.”
He curved his lips in his best coaxing smile. “Could you go ask her for me?”
A beat, the longest of his life. Then she said, “All right.” She snatched a long T-shirt and a pair of jeans from a drawer. Pointed at Aiden. “You. Turn around.”
“I’d rather not.”
Ric could have cheerfully used a cherry pitter on his friend’s crotch.
She smiled sweetly. “You want me to cath you with a silver needle—and a mallet?”
Aiden’s lips quirked. “Okay, okay, I’m turning.”
She slipped out of the sheet and into the tee and jeans, sliding her phone into a pocket. “This may take a bit. Twyla was bushed after last night.”
“Take your time,” Ric said.
After Synnove had gone, Aiden raised both brows. “You’ve only delayed the inevitable. She knows the original three p.m. delivery time means Charles intends a human to bring the ransom. It’s only a small hop to figuring out the human is her.”
“I know.” Ric’s gums were itching around his fangs.
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“Then I keep her here by bodily force.”
“Good luck with that.” Aiden leaned his long body against the wall. “If she doesn’t go, Little will sell the picture to Nosferatu.”
“Can’t be helped. We’ll have to appeal to the Ancient One in Iowa. His Alliance can protect my humans.”
A low brrr of displeasure sounded from Aiden. Even his quirk of a smile had disappeared. “I did not run from one superpower to get trapped by another.”
Ric’s hands shot out. “What do you suggest? I must protect my humans. I’ll do what I have to.”
“By giving up our precious freedom? Which, may I remind you, we nearly died to win?” Aiden’s only sign of anger was the slight lengthening of his fangs and an edge to his words. “We said we’d never break neutrality. Never.”
“I don’t like it any more than you do. But principles don’t mean squat when lives are on the line.”
“I disagree. That’s exactly when they matter most.”
“I will not sentence my humans to torture and worse at our enemy’s hands, not when a simple phone call can do something about it.”
Aiden’s fangs receded. “Ric, please. I can’t live with another overlord. Not even one as supposedly benign as Elias. There have to be other options.”
“There may be. But I don’t know what they are, and it’s too late. We’re a couple of small fish caught between two fighting dogs. I’m picking Elias as ally. In fact, I’d better start negotiations now, while Synnove’s out.” He pulled his phone and dialed a number he’d known forever but thought he’d never need.
Just as Synnove walked back into the room.
I left the bedroom on Ric’s quest, shutting the door behind me. I was about to knock on Twyla’s door when my phone rang.
I didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Synnove. It’s Charles Little.”
“Hello, Charles.” The weasel. “How did you get my number?”
“Please. I have connections.”
“Or you looked it up in my client file. Give the portrait back.”
“I want to. Your lover won’t cooperate.”
“What?”
“Oh, didn’t he tell you? Why am I not surprised? I offered to return it.”
“Sure, for ownership of Holiday Buzz.”
“At first it was only money. I raised the price when Holiday wouldn’t cooperate. It’s a controlling interest now. I might rename it Little Buzz.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Might as well call it the Sky-Is-Falling-Don’t-Use-Us Buzz. I switched ears. “Doesn’t matter. Holiday’s cooperating now. Why are you calling me?”
“To see if he’s also honoring my other request. I’d hate to have to raise the price again—or sell to Nosferatu.”
My spine iced. “What other request?”
“That you bring it. In person.”
Well crap. That explained Ric’s chest-beating. “Sure. Three p.m., right?”
“Right.” Little’s tone was smug. “Don’t be late.”
I leaned my head against the wall outside Twyla’s bedroom. Great. I had to meet Chicken Little. Ric would try to stop me. But Ric needed that painting, so I’d have to escape somehow.
Worse, Ch
arles specifically asked for me, which had a distinct odor of trap. While I wanted to help Ric and get his picture, I needed to do it without Lois Laning it and getting captured or worse. I mean, I wanted to help, not end up being rescue bait. I needed backup.
Immediately I thought of Twyla. Not only could she help me with Little’s stock and cash transfer—she could make any business system sit up and beg—it would solve the heroine-goes-alone-because-she’s-too-stupid-to-live angle. Twyla could call the cops. And she has a mean right hook.
Okay, one thing solved. But what about the meet itself? Because, while Twyla and I could take out Mr. Scrawny Chicken Little, if he had sublet any black-clad muscle from Nosferatu, we’d be in serious trouble.
Except wouldn’t I have a crowbar advantage? Little would want his cash and stock options. As long as I held onto that, I had room to maneuver.
So. If Little was alone, I’d negotiate for the picture. If he wasn’t, I’d remind him I had the transfer and when he hesitated, run like hell.
Okay, another thing solved. Now I had to figure out how to get to my car without Ric following.
Vampires were lightning fast. Daylight slowed Aiden fighting the six goons, but not until he was directly exposed.
Well, hopefully Twyla could help with that problem too, since she knew more about v-guys than me.
Okay. What did I do when petty and mean Little double-crossed me like yesterday? Because going head-to-head, he couldn’t outsmart me.
Head to head. Dammit.
Little had outmaneuvered me, Camille had outmaneuvered me, exactly because, in trying to be fair, I’d gone in with my head. Little had gone in with Camille, and she went in with everything she had. Head, heart and body.
Their side had won because I’d held back, and she hadn’t.
It rocked me to my soul. In some ways, she’d deserved the win. I’d held myself above all that, and it lost me the account.
Now Ric’s people were at stake. And from the tension in both Ric’s and Aiden’s reaction, something even more personal was on the line if Nosferatu got his hands on the portrait. Maybe their freedom, or their lives.
That hit me with absolute, awful clarity. Ric’s life, at stake. Not if I could do something about it.
“No holding back. Not this time.” This time I had to win. I jammed my phone into my pocket and jacked my spine straight.
A soft snore leaked through Twyla’s door. Okay, I’d wake her, but not yet. I sneaked into her room and opened her racy underwear drawer. One of the bras was a black push-up that would plump my tits into my chin. Its matching thong was faced with a heart so tiny I’d have to shave everything but a sliver to make it work.
Yes. I’d do anything to get the job done.
Including flashing my boobs at Chicken Little.
Part of me was appalled. Another was curiously set free. Time for beastie to play.
I grabbed Twyla’s tablet and headed back to my room.
But when I slipped in with my black lace weapons and decoy tablet, Ric was on speaker phone. “Mr. Elias, you don’t know me, but…”
He flashed me a glance and a grimace. Obviously he hadn’t wanted me to hear this. Which of course made me determined to stay. He saw it in my eyes, sighed and started again. “I’m—”
“Ric Holiday.” The answering voice was from the depths of hell.
I clutched Twyla’s underwear and tablet to my chest, my heart suddenly thudding like a parade bass drum. That voice…even on speaker phone, it was as deep and timbral as if a giant California redwood were speaking.
Ric’s head jerked back in astonishment. “You know me?”
“Of course. Who is with you?” A pause. “I hear a human. I assume it is Dr. Synnove Byornsson. And…Aiden Blackthorne, I believe.”
Aiden stiffened, his expression so horrified it was almost funny. “You heard me?”
“No. But the way sound is folding, a third person was in the room. You’re one of the few of our kind clever enough to be truly noiseless.”
“Not clever.” Aiden shook his head and leaned again against the wall, seemingly relaxed but his biceps were twitching. “Or I would have made a counterfeit noise, pretending to be someone else.”
Elias chuckled at that, a sound so rich and masculine that my nipples peaked just having it ruffle over my skin. “That might have worked. Shall we try next time?”
“Well, now you’ll be expecting it.” Aiden almost smiled.
“Mr. Elias,” Ric said. “I don’t have a great deal of time. I’m calling because I hope you can help me. An article of leverage to keep Nosferatu away from my humans has been stolen. I’m going to try to get it back but if I don’t… My humans need protection.”
“I assume you mean my protection. What are you prepared to do in exchange?”
Ric took a deep breath. He flicked apologetic eyes at Aiden, who glared black daggers at him. “I’ll join the Iowa Alliance. I’ll fight for you.”
“Hmm. While the idea is intriguing, and you and Mr. Blackthorne have certain unique talents I’d be interested in, I have to say no.”
“No?” Ric stared at the phone. “No? But why?”
“It’s simply not in your best interests to ally with me at this time.”
“Not in my best interests?” Ric’s fangs flashed as he spoke, and his tendons on the hand holding the phone had gone rigid. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Mr. Holiday. What do you know about the situation between Nosferatu and me? Not between the Alliance and the Coterie, but between us as individuals—”
“He hates you.” Ric’s tone was flat with anger.
A pause. Obviously Elias wasn’t interrupted often. But when his cave-deep voice came again it was mild. “Hates, yes. Do you know why?”
Ric opened his mouth to snap something, but Elias’s words must have penetrated because he slowly closed his mouth and frowned. When he spoke again his fangs were gone. “No.”
“Does Mr. Blackthorne have an idea?”
Aiden cocked one black brow. “If Nosferatu only opposed you, he would simply attack. But he goes out of his way to appear reasonable.”
Ric snapped his fingers. “He doesn’t want to give you reason to attack him in return. He’s afraid you.”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“Let’s just say Nosferatu and I have a past.”
I’d taken patient histories from corpses who were more forthcoming. This Elias might have taught Nikos how to be taciturn.
“I don’t see how that affects my joining the Alliance.” Ric‘s fangs started to emerge again.
“Nosferatu is angry because you and Mr. Blackthorne escaped him. He’d like to make an example of you.”
My breath caught. Ric and Aiden had escaped Nosferatu? When had they been in the bad guy’s clutches?
“So what else is new?” Ric started pacing, short, jerky turns around the bedroom. “He already sent a goon squad. Without the threat of the picture, he’ll do worse. Which is why I’m asking for your help.”
“But you’ve only made him angry. He doesn’t hate you.”
“He doesn’t fear us,” Aiden said.
“Exactly. Remember, the threat the portrait represents is useful but it’s not the only leverage you have.”
Ric spun, lips tight over extended fangs. “Which means what?”
“Mr. Holiday, listen to me carefully. You have a previous connection with Nosferatu. You might reinstate that connection…with the right persuader. As long as he doesn’t hate you, that is.”
“The right persuader? What, a battering ram?”
“Don’t be obtuse,” Elias snapped. “You’re letting your emotions block your brain. Stop it.”
“You’re not helping—”
“I am, if you listen. Your job is advertising, correct? You know what will make a person buy a product. You’re good at it. Pretend Nosferatu’s another client. What would he buy from you?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Ric stalked the room in even more of a frenzy. “Nosferatu won’t buy anything from me.”
A breath of air over the phone might have been a deep sigh. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
This was going nowhere fast. While I didn’t have Ric’s ability to sell sand in the Sahara, I had learned how to coax patient details. “Mr. Elias, please. We don’t have your wealth of knowledge and experience. Can you tell us what Ric can do to protect his people? What would you do in his place?”
A pause. I held my breath. If Elias wanted to help, this would hopefully start him. If not, nothing would.
Finally the deep voice came again. “Very well. Mr. Holiday. You know about Nosferatu’s daughter? Eloise?”
I gasped. Big Bad had a daughter?
But Ric only nodded impatiently. “Yes.”
“What do you know about her mother?”
“She died soon after they came to Nosferatu’s compound to live with us.”
The air I’d sucked in exploded out of my lungs. Ric and Aiden had lived with the wicked old vampire?
“How old was she at the time?”
“Six. Look, what will going over ancient history do to protect my people?”
“Ancient doesn’t begin to apply until before the tenth century. Think. Where were Eloise and her mother before coming to Chicago?”
Ric stopped pacing. He exchanged a thunderstruck glance with Aiden. “I don’t know.”
“They lived with me. As did Nosferatu, for a time.”
“What?”
“He was my lieutenant. Until 1806, when he made a human member of my household, a young woman, pregnant. Rather than admitting his culpability in the matter, he silenced her through intimidation and pain. To make matters worse, when she began to show, he drove her out of my home. Do you know the fate of a young pregnant woman alone in the early 1800s? It wasn’t pretty.
“I found out and immediately returned her to my care. I would have ripped off Nosferatu’s head.”
I would have ripped off anything I could reach.
“But she begged me to spare the father of her child. Begged me so strenuously that she went into premature labor. She was having hysterics, endangering both the child’s life and her own. I had to agree. I couldn’t harm him, but I could and did expel him from my home, and my life.