"Until someone called you in to dinner, or told you to go clean your room."
He grinned with relief. She understood! "Right. Apart from the bit about cleaning your room. I was totally relaxed and utterly peaceful. I didn't hurt anymore. Everything went quiet and misty, until it went black, and later I woke up, as a vampire."
She rolled away from him, settling on her stomach. "Sounds awfully easy, but I bet it isn't."
"Not easy, no. I miss the sunlight, even dream of sunsets sometimes. And the diet gets monotonous. You can't imagine how I felt when you offered me fried chicken—used to be one of my favorite meals. We can drink, but no longer digest solid food," he paused, "but all in all it beats the alternative."
"Yeah." She went very quiet again, running her hand through her hair. "We should be comparing notes about the Adamses, but I don't want that lot in my bed. All I want is you!"
How could any man, alive or undead, refuse that invitation?
He pulled her close, so they lay like spoons in a drawer, her ass curled nicely into his belly, his erection fitting perfectly in the crack of her bottom. He cupped her breast with one hand. With his other he ruffled her short hair back and forth. She let out a contented sigh, and pressed closer.
He thought he'd burst with the emotion burning inside. He was in love up to his eyeballs. Drowning, smothering in it in fact, and had never been happier—alive or vampire. Right, and he was slap-bang in the middle of an investigation, had just about compromised it (at least from John's point of view) and was utterly and totally content. And horny again.
He wanted her. Needed her. Not just for her blood, or her wonderful body. He needed her spirit and humanity. He needed Vickie. His hand eased down her belly and cupped her pussy. With a little sigh, she moved one thigh over the other, opening herself to him. He'd be a churl to refuse her obvious invitation and their mutual need.
Brushing her neck and shoulders with soft, feathery kisses, he had her moaning with pleasure as he eased inside.
A low groan of sheer wonder echoed inside his skull. Never had he known such joy. When had any man, living or undead, felt such utter bliss? He rocked his hips against her butt, pressing deeper and using his muscles to rock his cock inside her. Her arousal peaked as she made little sexy grunts. Her hands reached back to clutch him, as he held her shoulders steady and drove in deeper. She came with a shout of exhaltation, his own cries of satisfaction melding with hers.
They both sagged on the bed. As he eased out of her, she rolled over, nestling her head against his chest as he curled his arm around her shoulders. "I love you, Pete," she whispered, her eyes bright with fatigue and satiation.
She fell asleep in his arms.
Her breasts rose and fell under his hand. He tasted the saltiness of her skin. She was so gloriously and deliciously mortal. He should leave. He was dead beat. He needed blood. He couldn't take more from her. The woods teemed with wildlife, thank goodness. He was in dire need. Between the bear trap and Vickie's exploit with the shotgun, his body was depleted. Lesson there: wear a bulletproof vest at all times. Heck, if he'd just kept his jacket on it would have helped. It was still sitting on his Monster. He'd fetch them both in a minute, after he spent a little more time with Vickie. How could he walk out right after making love? Impossible!
He wanted a little longer with her warmth curled against him. After feeding from a deer and a good day's rest, he'd be fine. Tomorrow he'd get back to searching, but it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. He'd be better off trying to buy the stuff, and tracing backwards. This tramping through the woods was less than productive—apart from getting rescued by the love of his life. Or should it be "love of his death?" "Love of his revenance?" Whatever it was, it complicated things, but if John thought he was giving Vickie up, his supervisor had another think coming.
If need be, he'd take a vacation. Spend the next few weeks with Vickie.
Pete found himself relaxing against her sweet warmth. Finally he gave up even thinking, and dozed beside her.
It wasn't day sleep, it wasn't rest. It was pure contentment.
Chapter Nine
« ^ »
The smell of the coming dawn brought him back to his senses. He had five, at most ten minutes before sunrise. As he leapt out of bed and reached for his clothes, Vickie stirred. "I wasn't dreaming. I'd offer to cook breakfast, but…"
"I'd offer to stay and keep you company, but dawn is coming. I have to get back to safety."
She was out of bed and reaching for her robe. "Ohmigod! You have to go."
"It's okay. The motorbike will get me up the road in minutes. No prob. I'll be back tonight. Go back to sleep."
Typically, she ignored him. Pulling on her robe and running after him. She reached the top of the porch steps as he stood, shocked, staring at his Monster.
"Pete!" she called. He only half-heard her. He was still gawking at his slashed tires when she ran up beside him.
"Sonny," she hissed.
He didn't doubt she was right. The man intended to inconvenience him and like as not was terminating him. Pete looked up at the ever-lightening sky. "I'll never get back there in time," he said, half to himself. He wouldn't even have time for regrets or a proper good-bye. He grabbed Vickie's hand.
"Can't you leave the bike here and run?"
If only. "I'm weakened. I planned on resting to restore myself. I'll never get up there in time."
Her hand tightened in his. "No prob. Come back to my house."
"No good, love. I need a sealed room where the sun can't penetrate." He wasn't letting her witness this. Better find a spot deep in the woods and wait for the end. Dammit. He wanted to live, for Vickie.
"Come on, you big lug." She stepped away and yanked his arm. "Get a move on. I've got the root cellar. It's as dark as a dungeon. Gramps used to call it 'the coal mine.'"
It was so slender a hope. But more than he'd had a second earlier… "Where?"
He ran back with her, hand in hand, into the house, slamming the door behind them, shutting out the warmth of the slowly rising sun. "Vickie?" What if it didn't work?
"Help me!" She was tugging at a corner of the worn carpet. "I've got to move this and the table."
He pushed the table and chairs aside. She rolled back the carpet and reached to the floor, pulling open a trap door. "It's damp, and probably full of spiders," she said, "but it's dark."
She wasn't kidding. He stared down at uneven wooden steps and blessed darkness. "Can you see enough to get down there?" she asked. "I'll get a flashlight and blankets."
"I don't need a flashlight."
"I do. I'm not risking a broken leg. I don't heal like you do."
He ran down the rickety steps. Definitely cool and underground but dry and, more importantly, dark. As he looked around the packed earth floor for a resting place, a wavering flashlight beam showed where Vickie was descending the steps.
"Be careful," he said, crossing back to the foot of the steps.
"I am. Catch!" She threw him a bundle of blankets.
"I'll get you a pillow."
He hadn't the heart to tell her that when he was deep in day sleep, he'd not notice if he lay on a bed of nails. He spread out the blanket against the northern wall and settled on the pillow she brought from her own bed, a pillow still smelling of Vickie and lovemaking.
She knelt beside him, the flashlight beam playing on old stone walls and dark corners. "What should I do about the bike?"
Good question. He told her how to slip it into neutral and move it off the road, adding the number of Mike the Bike Man in Roanoke. "He'll come fix it." He could smell the approaching dawn. "Better close the trap door."
Her lips brushed his. "I'll take care of everything." The air around him shifted as she stood up and walked toward the steps. The light beam danced and receded. The trapdoor came down. He let the dark embrace him. As the sun rose in the heavens, day sleep engulfed him.
Vickie rolled the carpet back over the trap door and pra
yed the root cellar was as dark as she remembered. Used to be the only light was from chinks in the trap door. With the carpet and a couple of extra quilts she spread on top of it, the light was blocked—she hoped.
Not much she could do about that now.
Better save her energies for what she could do.
She pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and walked back down the road, taking Pete's ignition keys with her. She picked up his jacket, damp from the dew on the grass. Slipping her arms in the sleeves brought back memories of sleeping in the circle of his arms.
The bike was massive and very red in the morning light. She hoped he was right about it being easy to move. Vickie turned the grip on the handlebars, put the Monster—most aptly named—into neutral, released the kickstand, and gingerly wheeled the bike towards her house. It wasn't that hard. Awkward, and bumpy over her graveled drive, but she managed, wheeling it at last around the back of the carport.
She wanted it out of sight. No point in letting Sonny even think he'd inconvenienced Pete.
She put the coffeemaker on and collapsed into a chair. She was dead beat. Making love half the night took energy. She'd need that coffee. She had work to do while Pete slept.
She called Mike the Bike Man, who promised to send someone up as soon as possible. That taken care of, she took her coffee and cornflakes onto the porch to think. Where, in the hundreds of acres around her, would a couple of felons set up a meth lab?
Back in the house, she opened the drawer at the base of the bookcase and pulled out all the large-scale hiking maps. They were old and yellowed but showed all the trails, some long overgrown.
Some while later, Vickie stood up and stretched. And grinned. She might be wrong but it was worth a look. She was tempted to go on her own, but would wait for Pete. This was not a solo job.
It was hours before dusk, and she'd been up all night with Pete. Might as well catch up on sleep, as she doubted she'd get much after he woke. Grinning at that prospect, Vickie slid between the sheets that still smelled of Pete.
She was halfway to dozing when the doorbell rang.
If that were any sort of Adams, even old granny from the nursing home in Boones Mill, she'd spit.
It was Joe from Mike the Bike, complete with spanking-new tires.
At least she'd sorted that out. Joe's truck bumped off down the mountain and Vickie finally got her nap.
It helped. She woke late afternoon, refreshed, ravenous and deeply conscious that Pete was asleep under her feet. Or was he dead? He'd called it "day sleep."
She took care of her hunger by making a nice, thick ham sandwich. If Pete were a different sort of man, she'd be thinking of fixing dinner, but as it was… At least he was darn easy to feed. Her heart seemed to catch. Twice. He would feed—off her. Her body warmed at the prospect. Her heart raced. If she didn't get ahold of herself, she'd need to change her panties. She'd never been this needy or aroused before.
She'd never made love to a vampire before!
Good thing she was sitting down. Just thinking about that sent her head into a spin and her need a notch higher. If she went on at this rate, she'd be leaping his bones the minute he woke.
Meanwhile, she might as well give a last look over the maps. She spread the one she needed on the table, held it down with one hand, and set the sandwich plate on the other corner.
She was in mid-chew when the cellar door opened.
She looked up and there was Pete in the doorway. Her mouth went dry. It took a huge effort to swallow the half-chewed chunk of ham and Roman Meal.
"Hi," she said, when she finally downed the mouthful. "Did you sleep well?"
"Best day's sleep I've ever had. Knowing you were close made all the difference."
She'd made the mistake of taking another bite. It was almost the end of her but worth it to have him cross the room in a nanosecond and pat her on the back. The kiss on her cheek wasn't half bad either.
She swallowed fast and gulped a mouthful of tea to clear her throat. "I'm glad you're okay. The bike's fine and I've been thinking." She looked up at his eyes. He'd obviously been thinking too—and having a few interesting dreams himself, to judge by the front of his leather pants. "About the Adamses."
He raised his wonderfully dark eyebrows. "Do we really have to? I've got a good hour or so before I need to start my prowl."
It was a distinct temptation, but she was a cop and the law came before wild, animal urges. "I have an idea where they might have set up their lab."
"Assuming there is one." He pulled the chair out beside hers and sat down.
Having Pete this close was wondrous, and wondrously distracting. "I doubt Sonny is refinishing furniture for a living."
Pete nodded. "Wouldn't argue with that."
She stood up and held out her hand. "Let me show you."
He glanced at her spread map and shook his head. "Vickie, my love, I've gone over the ground umpteen times. I even caught a whiff that had me hopeful, but decided it had to be a pack of feral cats."
So he'd smelled it, had he? Bingo! "It wasn't. It was the lab."
"If it's out there, it's hidden damn well."
"It's hidden damn well."
He had the grace to listen. He was definitely a man—okay, vampire—to keep. But right now… "I know these woods. Grew up here until I was sent away to boarding school and still roamed them in the summers. You've searched the woods, several times, okay. Have you looked under them?"
His face lit with interest. "In caves?"
"Let me show you." Pete held down one side of the map, watching intently as her finger traced up the line of the old logging road and off on a marked footpath, to a faded, inked-in circle. "Here's the ruins of an old cabin. My grandfather always said the chimneys dated from colonial days."
"I've been over the ruins, Vickie. It was close to there I caught a whiff." He paused. "The caves are near there?"
"The cabin was built over the caves. I only went in them once. Grandpa took me but made me promise never to go inside on my own. There's one large chamber. They must have used it as a cellar once. It even has rough-cut steps leading down. There are other chambers leading off but we never explored those. They have to have it vented somehow, but the caves aren't deep, they probably cut a few outlets."
"Damn lucky they haven't blown the side off the mountain."
Couldn't argue with that. "I don't think safety is any more of a concern than abiding with the law."
"Can you explain how to get into these caves?"
"I can do better than that. I'll show you."
"It's too dangerous!"
"Pete. I'm a cop."
Pete felt his forehead crease as he scowled. He didn't like the option one iota but she was right. And he'd bet she was a damn good cop at that. She'd make a good detective by the look of things. "Show me, and then you come right back, agreed? This is out of your jurisdiction."
"You'll need a good flashlight and a helmet if you're going in."
"Vickie, I can see in the dark. I'll carry the flashlight for you."
It took over an hour, walking through the woods, rather than the road, to avoid notice. By the time they reached the ruined cabin, Vickie needed the flashlight even if Pete didn't. The moon hadn't risen and it was pitch dark.
"Show me where the entry is," he said. "Then I'll take you home."
It was on the tip of her tongue to argue but this was his investigation. "Okay."
It took her a while. Without the flashlight, she'd never have found it at all. The tree her grandfather had used as a marker was fallen, and undergrowth—she hoped it wasn't poison ivy—covered the old doorway. She paced around until she noticed a cluster of fir trees, with broken and bent branches. "Here. I think."
He pushed aside the branches and crawled through, motioning her to stay back. She compromised by peering over his shoulder. There, quite improbably, was an old door weighted down with boulders. Pete lifted one corner and peered in. The whiff of cat's pee pretty much suggested they
weren't growing mushrooms down there. He set the door back down and eased back under the trees. "Vickie, you are incredible! I'm off to report this. You stay inside and safe, okay?"
Vickie nodded and didn't even cross her fingers. She'd keep her word. It wouldn't be easy, but getting in the way of a bunch of vampires wasn't a wise move. "What are you going to do?"
"Take you home." He scooped her up in his arms, planting a rather splendid kiss on her mouth. Just when she was thinking about distracting him from his job, he lifted his mouth. "Right now."
He held her tight against his chest, one arm under her knees, the other around her back. She'd be a liar to say she didn't thoroughly enjoy the sensation. Last time he carried her, she'd been halfway to shell-shocked. This time, her mind and senses were in top gear. As he ran through the woods, she did the frail female thing and clung to his shoulders. She relished the security and power of his body. It wasn't just her mind that appreciated him. Her body was keyed up, aroused and ready. And from what he'd just told her, he was going to drop her on her doorstep and run.
He should. He was a cop—okay, a Fed—a bit of an irregular one, yes, but still he was on a job. She wished roaring success to his investigation. Putting the Adamses out of circulation for a good long while could only benefit the entire country. Plus, what this would do for his career.
She was jolted out of her thoughts as he set her on her feet on her porch. He'd run the hour-or-so walk in ten minutes, if that.
He was leaving her. Right now. He had to. He should. He…
"I've got an hour," he said. "Then I must go."
She didn't waste time asking what he planned for that hour. She had the door unlocked in seconds, and all but dragged him inside. Not that he needed much enticing.
He pushed the door shut with his elbow, took her key and locked up, and whisked her into the bedroom.
Her breath jammed up tight in her throat as she looked at him: tall, male and imposing, an almost-feral gleam in his eyes, and his wide lips curling in a grin. "Got something on your mind?"
Immortal Bad Boys Page 15