The Bloodline Series Box Set

by Gabriella Messina

  “Hungry, love?” He glanced at her over his shoulder, the movement of his hair revealing the edge of another tattoo on the back of his neck, one Sam hadn’t noticed before. Making a mental note to get a closer look when she could, Sam returned his grin as she nodded.

  “Absolutely.” She took a deep breath, enjoying the smells of a big breakfast as she walked into the kitchen, stepping up behind Vincent and slipping her hands around his waist as he cooked. “I had no idea you were so domestic.”

  “I’m not. But I am hungry.” Vincent looked back at her again. “When one is hungry, one cooks.” He winked and leaned in to kiss her quickly before returning to his eggs. “The coffee is fresh.”

  “Yay!” Sam gave him a final squeeze around the waist, then made a beeline for the coffee pot.

  Sam poured a large cup of coffee, enjoying the warmth of the steam on her face as she leaned over to indulge in its delicious smell. Beside her, the toaster popped, and Vincent quickly grabbed the slices out and tossed them on a plate, shaking his fingers to cool them as he started buttering the hot toast.

  Moments later, coffees poured, food plated up, the two sat down at the kitchen table. Sam dug in right away, getting bites of everything on her plate in quick succession. She was chewing along as she looked up... and found Vincent staring at her, a little smirk taking up residence in the corner of his mouth. “What?”

  Vincent grinned broadly and shook his head. “Not a thing, darlin’. Not a thing.” He grabbed his own fork and started in on the eggs. They ate in silence for a few minutes, until Sam came up for air, taking a moment to sip her coffee.

  “Vincent, something I’ve wondered...”

  Vincent looked at her, his expression curious, and he swallowed what was in his mouth before answering. “What have you wondered?”

  “Since you were infected... Was last night, I mean, have you...?” Vincent frowned thoughtfully, clearly trying to understand what she was asking him. Sam sighed and took another sip of coffee before continuing. “Have you really been... alone...for ten years?”

  “Oh.” Vincent chuckled, and took a quick sip of his coffee. He shrugged. “It wasn’t really a conscious choice. I moved around a lot, and I didn’t really understand what risks I posed, infectious risks, risk of violence... I was quite... volatile... for a long time.”

  “So... this is safe for you.”

  “Yes. But not how you mean.” He took another sip of coffee before he continued. “I obviously could never infect you, but it’s... more than that. I mean, the fact that you’re a werewolf as well has nothing to do with my wanting you. I wanted you before you were infected.”

  Now it was Sam’s turn to frown. “Before? How is that possible? I was already infected when we met. Granted, it had just happened, but...”

  Vincent suddenly looked...nervous. “I saw you... a month before that.” His eyes met hers and held them as he spoke. “I saw you the night you fell from the bridge.”

  Sam felt her mouth literally fall open at these words. “You were there?”

  Vincent nodded. “I had just gotten to New York, literally straight from the airport. I was smoking a cigarette when a man ran by me...”

  “Franco.”

  “Yeah. And then moments later... you ran by... All I really got was your scent, I didn’t see your face... but your scent...” Vincent paused, closing his eyes and seeming to relive the moment as he scented her.

  “Do I smell the same? Even now?”

  Vincent opened his eyes, his gaze soft as he looked at her. “Yes.” He scented her again and smiled. “And better than that... Because now it’s not just you, it’s us.”

  Sam giggled at that, but her smile faded quickly as the import of what he’d said before hit home. Vincent had been there that night, at the bridge when she fell. Sam swallowed hard, then quietly asked, “Were you there...when I fell?”

  Vincent’s smile faded as well, and he nodded. “Yes. I saw.” He took a deep breath. “I actually tried to...” He lowered his head, emotion taking him over for a moment. Sam frowned, puzzled... and then realization dawned.

  “Peppermint... I remember... You tried to break my fall.”

  Vincent sniffed as he chuckled. “I didn’t do a very good job. Your back was broken.”

  “I should have been dead.” Sam moved quickly, making it from the chair to Vincent’s lap in record time. “You saved me,” she whispered as she leaned in close, her lips poised above his... but then she stopped, a frown marring her brow again. “Wait a minute... You said you didn’t know me, right?”

  “Right.”

  Sam leaned back. “Well, you were here because Ivan sent for you to look after me. So, if you didn’t know what I looked like or anything...”

  Vincent smiled as he shifted slightly in the chair. “Ivan... always played a cautious hand... His message to me was very vague, only said that he needed me to come and look after his grand-daughter. I assumed he meant a little girl.”

  “You thought I was a little girl?” Sam leaned back slightly, the collar of her robe opening as she moved and revealing a generous portion of her neck and breasts. “I’m definitely not a little girl.”

  Vincent leaned in, kissing her neck as he slipped the robe back off her shoulders. “Definitely not.”

  Sam ran her fingers through his hair and felt the pressure of his fresh arousal against her leg. Vincent’s lips were making their way down from her neck to her collarbone and shoulders as his hands started roaming with obvious intent. “Vincent, we should probably stop.”

  “Why?” Vincent asked, his breath hot against her skin.

  “Well, um... don’t you want to finish your breakfast?”

  Vincent raised his head, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. “Not hungry for that anymore.” He leaned in to kiss her...

  Ring... Ring...

  “Let it ring, love.” Vincent went for her neck yet again, and Sam was sorely tempted to simply ignore the phone and succumb once more to the expert lovemaking of the Irishman... but... it could be about...

  “My suspension.” She pushed Vincent away, just far enough to get him away from her neck. “It may be about my suspension.” He was silent a moment, his lips firmly pressed together. Then, Vincent nodded, and reluctantly released her.

  Sam hopped up, pulling her robe back around her as she grabbed up her cell phone. The caller ID told her what she needed to know. It wasn’t the Lieutenant, or IAB... it was—

  “Sam? It’s Frank Ronne. Listen, uh, that information you were looking for... I’ve got it.”

  31

  JOE COFFEE

  E. 13th Street

  The seat that Frank Ronne had chosen was perfectly positioned to see everyone that came in, which was the whole point of choosing it. He glanced at his watch, a smooth movement that caught the attention of several women in the coffee house. Rather, it added fresh interest to the focus that had already been on him since he came in. He sighed lightly, reaching for his coffee and enjoying a savory sip as he glanced once more around the industrial chic interior. He preferred a cozier atmosphere himself, but this was close to Sam’s apartment, and his usual spot had been packed to brimming with NYU students at this hour.

  In all honesty, going directly to her apartment would have been ideal, but Ronne had gotten the distinct impression that she wasn’t alone. So, the coffee shop it was.

  Ronne slipped his glasses off for a moment, rubbing his eyes. It had been a long night of research, but he had been determined to find what Sam was looking for as quickly as possible and succeeded at about five this morning. A couple of hour’s sleep, a shower and careful shaving around his goatee and he was presentable. Of course, Ronne’s “presentable” was by most people’s standards fastidiously put together, his chestnut hair trimmed and neat, his jeans perfectly pressed, as was his button-down shirt, and his dressy leather shoes shined. He replaced the dark-rimmed glasses, perching them on his high-bridged nose, his ice blue eyes briefly widening as they adjusted to
the focus. He glanced at his watch again, wondering how long it really did take to get here from Delancey Street when the door opened, and a rush of Spring air wafted in as Sam Karolyi entered.

  Ronne made ready to stand, his height sure to get her attention even before he raised his hand in a wave. Sam had seen him already, though, and was already on her way over to the table.

  “Sorry I’m late. Something came up that I had to take care of.” Sam cast her eyes down at the table at that, and Ronne could detect the faintest of blushes creeping across her cheeks. Naughty girl... Ronne thought, recalling his suspicion that she hadn’t been alone. If he’d been of a more jealous type, he might have been irked by the suggestion, but Ronne knew what his place was.

  “Not a problem.” Ronne relaxed back into his chair and gestured toward the chalkboard menu at the back above the service counter. “Coffee?”

  Sam grinned as she sat down. “Yes, please. Um—”

  “Wait,” Ronne stopped her, holding his hand up as he frowned lightly. “I’ve got it. Cream... and stevia.”

  “Yep.”

  Ronne’s frown faded, a wide smile breaking across his handsome face. “Yep. Of course.” He stood quickly, his lean physique making his height even more impressive. “I’ll just be a moment.”

  There was no line, thankfully, and Ronne returned in no time with a large cup of coffee for Sam and another for himself. He waited a moment while she took a cautious sip of the hot beverage, then finished off the cold remnants of his first cup.

  “How did you find everything so quickly?” The question so soon in their meeting caught Ronne off-guard and he found himself fighting the urge to cough as the drops of cold coffee hit the back of his throat at an odd angle. He swallowed hard several times, trying to soothe the irritation and gain control as quickly as possible before she noticed his discomfort. Ronne’s mind was working like a machine, running through the details of what he had done, how he had done it, processing everything and condensing it to the story that Sam was going to get.

  “Are you alright?” Sam’s face was full of concern when he looked up. No suspicion that he could see, but she may just be good at hiding her thoughts and emotions. Ronne managed to get a small smile out and swallowed hard again. The tension in his throat eased and he cleared his throat carefully.

  “Tried to... go the wrong way... I’m alright, thank you.”

  “Good.” Sam’s posture relaxed visibly, and she took another careful sip of her hot coffee. “So, what were you able to find?”

  Ronne reached around, quickly rummaging through the pockets of his jacket and pulling out a small spiral-bound notebook. “It’s all in there. The bomber’s name was Aharon Abdulrahman. He was here on a student visa from Yemen, studying at Hunter College.”

  “What was he studying?” Sam asked, leafing through the pages of the notebook, skimming the writing within.

  “American literature.”

  Sam chuckled. “No shit?”

  Ronne smiled. “I shit you not. He was evidently doing his senior thesis on the relationship between English and American Literature as evidenced by the Trans-Atlantic friendship between Charles Dickens and Edgar Allan Poe.”

  “Dickens and Poe?”

  Ronne nodded. “Quoth the Raven, ‘What the fuck?’” Sam slowly looked up from the papers, her glare threatening to break into laughter any second. Ronne shrugged. “Sorry... I was making a Poe attempt at humor.” Sam lowered her gaze back to the notebook, but her shoulders were shaking as she laughed.

  “It certainly is an... unusual choice.” Sam said, her finger running along the page in front of her. “Ordinarily they go for the obvious... technical programs, engineering, piloting, blah blah blah... This is interesting... He took chemistry, even though he tested out.”

  “And it wasn’t required for the major.” Ronne leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand in a thoughtful pose. “Yeah, I thought that was interesting, too. “

  Sam skimmed the last page, then closed the notebook, leaving it between them on the table. “He wouldn’t need it to make the pipe bombs. You can get those directions on the internet, any moron can figure it out and do it in an afternoon with the right ingredients.”

  “About that...” Ronne glanced around, checking to see if anyone was close enough to hear him. He leaned in across the table, Sam following suit, their foreheads inches from each other. Ronne pursed his lips, glanced again at the nearest people, then cleared his throat. “My source told me that there was trace residue on the bomb of a powdery substance. They thought it could be...” He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “They thought it could be anthrax, so they sent it for testing. Turns out, it wasn’t anthrax. The powder was a basic form of meth, mixed with a couple of other drugs.”

  “Meth? He was going to bomb people with meth?”

  A frown creased Ronne’s brow. “Not just meth. The powder didn’t contain anthrax spores, but it did contain...” He looked around again. “My source said there were traces of a virus in the powder. A live virus.” He watched Sam’s face as the words sank in, her eyes tearing and her bottom lip quivering slightly before she pressed the upper on down, stilling it. She lowered her eyes, and Ronne hesitated before continuing. “He said... it was like nothing he’d ever seen before. A retrovirus like HIV attached to a gel of some kind that lined the inside of the pipe.”

  “To keep it alive for transmission.” Sam murmured. She turned abruptly in her chair, looking out the window to the street, busy with traffic both vehicle and pedestrian. City buses and taxis driving back and forth... NYU students hefting their backpacks as they passed... A nanny pushing a stroller with twin toddlers inside... “They want to infect the whole city.” She whispered, her voice fading away at the end as emotion constricted her throat.

  Ronne could hear the change in her breathing, the slight gasping sound that indicated her emotional disturbance more than tears or outcry would. He felt a twinge of guilt for being the bearer of such tidings, though they must be told.

  “You know what it is, don’t you?”

  Sam was silent, and Ronne wondered if she’d even heard him. Then slowly she turned back to him, her face pale, her eyes large and haunted by whatever secret knowledge she had. She swallowed hard before she spoke.

  “Yes, Frank... I know what it is.” Sam flashed a wan smile and quickly drained her coffee cup. “I have to go. Thank you, Frank.” Sam stood quickly, heading for the exit before Ronne could even get up. He did get up, however, and hurried after her, catching her a few minutes before she reached the corner.

  “Wait a minute, hang on!” Ronne stood there, his exasperation evident as he looked down at Sam. She was a solid foot shorter than him, and slender to boot... Ronne feared he could crush her with a hug, and in the same moment wondered why he was even thinking about that possibility. “Sam, what is going on?”

  “You need to stay out of this, Frank, for your own good.” She pulled out her mobile phone, holding it in her hand as she looked at him expectantly, perhaps expecting him to just walk away. If only it was that simple, Ronne thought as he looked at the pretty young woman in front of him. Sam was... special... and that frustrating layer of specialness was making this whole thing much more difficult than it needed to be.

  “There’s one other thing. Lenny got in touch with me... Said he couldn’t reach you or something... He said to tell you there’s a shipment coming in tomorrow night. PERV-E. It’ll be in a warehouse in Brooklyn...” Ronne reached in his pocket, grabbing the notebook and a pen and scribbling quickly on an empty page. “Here.” He handed her the notebook. “You couldn’t have read everything in there... And you’ll need the information.”

  Sam took the notebook and slid it into her own pocket. “Thank you.”

  “Of course. Are you... are you going to be alright?”

  Sam smiled a small smile. “Yeah. Just do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Keep an eye on Lenny and his family, okay? Him helpin
g me in any way... Anyone helping me... the risk...”

  “Absolutely.”

  Sam heaved a relieved sigh and nodded. They stood awkwardly for a moment, and Ronne wondered what to do next when abruptly Sam stepped forward, her arms going around him quickly in a hug. Ronne didn’t hesitate, putting his arms around his partner and hugging her tightly.

  “That didn’t make things weird, did it?” Sam muttered against his jacket.

  “No.” Ronne shook his head. “Friends hug, right?” Without waiting for a response, Ronne leaned down, his chin resting on her head. He felt her stagger slightly as the rush went through him. It was like a high wind gusting through your mind and body, organizing everything and syncing it.

  Sam broke the hug, backing up a couple of steps. “I’ve gotta go. See ya later, Frank.”

  “See ya.”

  Ronne watched her hurry away down the street, disappearing into the crowd. Even after she disappeared, though, he could see her... the feeling of her presence was clear now, as she crossed street after street, then headed down into the subway and out of his mind’s sight. His smile faded, and Ronne pulled out his mobile and dialed. It rang several times before the other end of the line was picked up. Ronne didn’t wait for a greeting, didn’t expect one...

  “It’s me. You were right. All I had to do was touch her, skin to skin... No, not like that, she’s already mated to Kremer... but she felt it, I could tell. And I saw her. It worked.”

  Ronne hung up the phone and rubbed at the back of his neck, pulling his collar up to cover the mark there... the small tattoo of a bird that marked him for what he was, and what he would be to her...

  32

  MULBERRY STREET, LITTLE ITALY

  Sam took a final long drag from her cigarette, blowing the puff of smoke out as she rummaged through her pockets and pulled out a fresh one. Using the embers that remained of the first, she lit the second cigarette and inhaled again, drawing in the smoke that was doing something to calm her nerves, but not much to untie the knots in her stomach. The tension in her abdomen had been building since she’d spoken to Vincent on the way from the coffee shop. He had promised to hurry, to meet her here, but the twenty minutes since that call had seemed like hours. The panic that had set in after Ronne told her about the bio-weapon that was contained in the pipe bomb had not abated and would crash through Sam in fresh waves every time she saw a child go by.