by Мишель Роуэн
"You're a fledgling now," he said. "And during their first hours, vampires are so easy to kill. I could do so with the slightest effort."
She rolled her eyes. "Blah, blah, blah. You don't scare me,jerkoff ."
"You don't care about yourself?" He raised an eyebrow. "Then give me any problems and—" He fished into his pocket and pulled out small black box that Janiesinkingly recognized as a remote detonator. "—I can end this very quickly. Quinn's body will be destroyed, but I can hunt through the ashes later for the red stone."
"And you think I give a shit?" she tried to sound more confident than she felt at that moment. "Maybe
I've been playing him all this time, too. Did you ever consider that? After all, I want the Eye, too."
He nodded and raised the detonator. "Very well, then."
"No—" Janie raised her hand. "Just…dammit . Just don't do it."
He smirked at her and put it back in his pocket. "Just as I thought. Come with me."
They threaded their way through the crowded casino. A devil-waitress in a red sequinedminidress and black bat wings brushed past her. The dress was so short that black sequined panties could be seen as she swished across the floor on four-inchslingbacks . If Janie hadn't felt so sick and sore and bruised and worried, she'd feel positively underdressed.
They moved past the tables, and she spotted Lenny, who, not surprisingly, was still at the blackjack table. He had his cell phone to his ear.
When he spotted her, he pushed away from the table and walked directly toward her.
"Janie," he said. "I'm glad you're here. That was the Boss. Said he's been trying your cell phone for an hour and you haven't been answering. He's very…unhappy is a good word."
She glanced nervously at Malcolm, who held the detonator firmly in his right hand, thumb hovering over the trigger. "Don't you remember? It's dead."
Bad choice of words.
"Oh. Right. I've—" He shook his head. "I've been kind of out of it."
"Have you been here since the last time I saw you? How much have you lost?"
He gritted his teeth. "I was winning for a bit."
"Didn't you write an ode to not gambling once? Why didn't you memorize it?"
He sighed. "So much for my lucky streak." He glanced at Malcolm. "Who're you?"
"Oh… this?" She gave him a nervous, sideways glance. "This is Malcolm. Malcolm is an old friend of Quinn's."
Lenny presented his big mitt of a hand. "Pleased to meet you."
Malcolm ignored it. "Janie? Let's go."
Her head ached. "Listen, I'll catch up with you in a bit, okay, Lenny?"
"No, not okay. The Boss wants to see us immediately. He's on his way here right now. I'm really, really hoping that you have the Eye now. Do you?"
"Of course I do."
"Then we're golden."
Golden. That would be the color they'd be before they turned black while the Boss roasted them over his barbecue spit.
She was usually quite good at multitasking, but perhaps that was the old,nonvampiric version of her. This version just felt a dull ache in the pit of her stomach at the thought of facing her boss without the Eye.
One thing at a time.
"Great. Listen, when he gets here, try to keep him busy for a bit, okay? I… I have something I need to take care of first."
Lenny frowned. "Janie, are you all right? You look a little pale."
"I'm fine." She made sure her long hair covered the fading bite marks on her neck. They still tingled from the balm.
"But—"
"No, I don't have time right now. You can talk to him. Tell him about your poetry. I'm sure he'd love to hear some of it."
"You really think so?"
She nodded and started backing away from him as Malcolm's grip on her arm grew tighter.
"Where are you going?" Lenny asked.
"Ladies' room."
"With him?"
"I'll be back soon. Don't worry."
Lenny didn't follow. He just looked confused. She hated giving him the task of holding off the Boss, but there was no other answer.
Time had officially run out. Her hourglass had about three grains of sand left in it. She hoped those grains would count and everything would work out okay.
She hissed out a breath through her clenched teeth.Dammit , she wished she knew for sure that her sister was safe. She could only hope that she'd gotten through to Angela about how dangerous it was to stay in Vegas.
At least her sister had Barkley around to protect her like a big furry watchdog. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to her, would he?
She turned toward the slot machines.
"Oh, shit," she said out loud.
The big furry watchdog waved at her.
"Hey, Janie!" Barkley called as she and Malcolm grew closer.
Her stomach flipped over. Could this night get any worse?
"Janie," Barkley said. "I need to talk to you."
"Janie—" Malcolm's voice held a firm warning. Her eyes darted down to the detonator. One click and
Quinn was dead.
She glanced at him and then back at Barkley. "Where's Angela? Is she okay?"
"Yeah, about that." He bit his bottom lip and averted his gaze. "So remember that whole thing I was talking about her and me being soul mates, and how madly in love with her I was?"
"What about it?" Her words were clipped.
"I take it back. She's a completely psychotic bitch."
"Janie," Malcolm said again. "My patience wears thin."
He moved close enough that she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. She cringed.
"Just a sec, Malcolm. I'm having sister issues." She looked at Barkley. "What do you mean she's a bitch?"
"Psychoticbitch. She got me back to her hotel room and attacked me."
"With a knife? A gun?"
"Her body. She tried to molest me."
She rolled her eyes. "There's no time for games, Barkley. She's in danger. What the hell?"
"I know! I tried to get her to pack her things, but she's completely out of control. She obviously doesn't know I'm practically alpha wolf. That means that women are not supposed to throw me on the bed and have their way with me. It takes away from my manliness."
"I don't have time for this, Barkley." Her stomach was now completely in knots.
His shoulders slumped. "And then I turned wolf. Just—poof—dissolved into it without any warning at all. I realized right then and there that I turn wolf when I can't handle a situation. I'm like a turtle who retreats into his shell when he's threatened. Only my shell has fur."
"Werewolves are also on my list, along with hunters and vampires," Malcolm said ominously and then glanced at his watch. "Wrap this up, Janie. Now."
She grabbed Barkley's shirt and shoved him up against a Crazy-Sevens slot machine. "Where is Angela now?"
His eyes widened and he pointed. "Over at the tables. She wanted to gamble some more before we left town."
Janie let him go and turned around in a circle, scanning the area.
There she was. Angela's red hair was very distinct—enough that she could spot her from a fair distance.
"This could not be worse," she said, mostly to herself. "You've got to get her out of here right now.
There's no time to waste."
He shook his head. "She told me to stay out of her way." He showed her his arm, which had scratch marks on it. "The woman has very sharp nails. Did I mention that I hate her with a fiery passion? And it's not even the hate/love deal where you hate each other and then want to do it like rabbits when you're not fighting. This is just the hate. I know she's your sister, but she is pure evil."
Janie's jaw tensed, and then she turned around in Lenny's direction and waved him back over. He'd been eyeing the craps table.
"You changed your mind?" he said. "The Boss should be here any minute."
"I need you to listen to me very carefully, Lenny."
"Um. Okay. What is it?"
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She put a hand on his shoulder and pointed in the direction of her sister. "See her? The one with the red hair?"
He nodded.
"That's my sister."
His eyebrows raised. "Really? You finally found her?"
"Yeah. You know what I told you the Boss said he would do to her?"
He nodded gravely.
"You need to get her out of here right now and make sure she's safe. Do you understand?"
"But what if—?"
She shook her head. "There can't be any buts." Her eyes stung. "Protect her, Lenny. For me. Please."
Lenny nodded. "I'll take care of it. Of her. I promise."
"Thank you. Now go. Do it now."
"Okay." He turned away.
"Oh, and one more thing, Lenny?"
He turned back. "Uh-huh?"
"She won't know who you are. She doesn't know who I am. She'll probably think you're trying to kidnap her, and she'll make a big scene. Can you handle that?"
His brow furrowed. "Well, it does sound a bit challenging." He brightened. "I can handle her. She's little."
Then he took off.
She shook her head. Had to love the big guy. He sure knew how to take orders well, be they hunting down a rampant werewolf or babysitting a kid sister.
She glanced at Barkley.
He let out a long, dejected-sounding sigh. "I'm sorry I couldn't help."
"Yeah, me too."
Swallowing past the large lump of anxiety in her throat, she turned her back on him and without another word, and she and Malcolm made their way to where they were to meet Quinn in five short minutes.
Chapter 20
The first time Quinn ever met Gideon Chase, the leader of the vampire hunters, was when he'd been twenty years old, a fresh-faced young hunter with only a couple of shaky kills under his belt. Gideon was five years older and already close to taking over his father's empire of old money and sharp stakes.
Quinn's first impression had been that Gideon was a really cool guy. Somebody he'd like hanging out with, grabbing a couple of beers. Somebody, despite his riches, he would be willing to fight side by side with.
That impression had been short-lived.
They'd gone hunting together. They'd found a nest—a resting place where vampires gathered together for safety and social purposes. Quinn wanted to observe only and return with backup.
Gideon disagreed. There had been a strange gleam in his eyes that made Quinn very uncomfortable.
Gideon had run into the nest, and all hell had broken loose. He'd killed rampantly and without mercy. It had been a bad place, anyhow. Even now, the guilt Quinn felt about it was tempered by the fact that he knew it was a gang of vampires, no females or children, who harvested humans for their blood and kept them barely alive in order to keep the supply steady.
But Gideon had gone over the line. The sole vampire Quinn had killed that night was a young male who had tried to flee only to find himself face to face with Quinn. The vamp had wanted to fight to the death.
Quinn couldn't argue. Luckily, even with his inexperience, he'd won.
Meanwhile, Gideon had killed ten vamps all by himself. When it was done, he stood in the middle of the nest, surrounded by a few whole bodies of the young ones and the remains of the old vamps, who'd disintegrated. His face was covered with blood, and it hadn't been his own. He'd turned to Quinn and said, "That was fun." And then he'd laughed.
Quinn's blood had run cold.
Just as it did at that very moment as he watched Gideon, now in hismidthirties , standing in the backstage area of El Diablo's Hell's Gate Theater, wearing a tuxedo that was probably custom-made for him.
He was an imposing man. Over six feet, with dark brown hair and piercing green eyes. Chicks were all over the guy, not just for his money—of which he had billions—but for his male model looks that camouflaged the cold, calculated killer beneath.
Quinn had been jealous of him at one time. The guy had everything going for him. He'd gone to Harvard and studied politics and business, graduated top of his class.
Plus Gideon's father thought he the perfect son who could do no wrong.
Quinn had absolutely no idea what it would be like to have a father like that.
Okay, Quinn thought.How the hell am I going to get past Gideon ?
Time was running out.
Janie was waiting for him. Counting on him to come through.
He still couldn't believe the turn of events that evening. He was still shaking from seeing Janie drained,
then siring her, then… doing other things to her. All in a matter of not more than an hour.
The most important things in life always happen the quickest.
He could still taste her. His body still ached to touch her.
He shook his head to clear it. Thinking about Janie right now was not going to help him focus on what had to be done. And that was getting past Gideon and getting to the bomb. He glanced at his watch.
Yeah. And he'd better do it quickly.
He looked up and frowned. Gideon had disappeared. Where the hell had he gone so fast? Out onstage?
He felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Quinn? Michael Quinn?" Gideon said. "Is that you?"
Shit, shit, shit.
He turned slowly to face the number-one most important and dangerous man in the hunter organization.
"Gideon," he said slowly. "Great to see you."
Gideon nodded, and there was a smile in his gaze. "It's been too long."
"It certainly has."
"How have you been?"
Quinn swallowed. Didn't he know? Hadn't word made its way through the grapevine that he'd been turned into a vampire against his will? That his father, a leader in his own right, had been murdered and that Quinn's hands weren't exactly clean when it came to that nasty situation?
He forced a smile. "I've been… good. Really good. How about you?"
"Oh, you know. Taking care of business." He slapped Quinn's shoulder.
Taking Care of Business. It had been their theme song for the short time Quinn imagined the two of them as friends. He was surprised Gideon even remembered such a small detail.
"Can't talk long. I have to do my speech." He raised a dark eyebrow. "You know how much I hate public speaking."
Quinn snorted. "Right. Only if the spotlight isn't completely on you?"
"Youdo remember." Gideon laughed loudly. "You're staying to hear me, I hope? I'm going to talk about organization and power in numbers. I've been very busy lately, but I had somebody write it for me. I think it sounds fairly natural."
"Organization?" Quinn couldn't help but find that amusing.
"I know. I was always the gung-ho hunter without the plan, wasn't I? Well, time changes many things, doesn't it?"
You have no idea, he thought. "Listen, do you think I could go onstage for a moment?"
Gideon grinned and looked toward the stage where Quinn was focused on. "Are you serious? You want to say something inspirational to the troops?"
No, I want to grab the bomb that's about to blow your ass straight to hell.
"I'm all for raising morale. If I can do something, then I'd love to be more involved in the organization from now on."
"That's very good of you. I'm sure everyone would love to hear what you have to say. Listen, there's a
VIP party afterward. You are welcome to join us. We need to catch up."
"That sounds really"—incredibly wrong on so many levels—"fantastic. Thanks for the invite."
Gideon smiled thinly. "Quinn, I have to say I'm rather insulted. You must really think I'm very stupid. Is that it?"
He swallowed and kept his face completely neutral. "What are you talking about?"
Gideon's smile held. "Is this some sort of pathetic assassination attempt? Because I get those all the time.
It takes a great deal more to impress me these days."
"Assassination." He frowned so deeply it hurt. "Of course not."
&nb
sp; The other man studied him for a moment. "Then I don't get it. Unless turning into one of the bloodsuckers has really fried your mind. You think you could just waltz up to me and pretend that nothing's changed as if I am not made aware of everything—be it big or small—that happens to my hunters?" His smile faded around the edges. "You've made a horrible mistake."
Quinn couldn't help but take a step back from the murderous expression on Gideon's face. He backed up into something large. Two iron vices grabbed his arms to hold him in place. Gideon's bodyguards. Of course a man as important as Gideon wouldn't be without bodyguards close by.
Out in the sun too long today. Lack of blood. Mind-blowing sex. Enough to fry his brain cells. Definitely.
He was dead.
Gideon reached under his jacket and produced a silver knife with a curved blade. It looked extremely expensive. And extremely sharp.
He brought it up to Quinn's throat so close that it bit into the skin. "Tell me why you're here."
"Because I'm trying to save your life. Can you believe it?"
Gideon raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Yeah. As a matter of fact, in about ten minutes, a bomb that Malcolm Price—who isn't quite as nice as
I am—put under the podium onstage is going to detonate, taking you, me, and everybody within a block with us. So feel free to kill me now. It won't really matter in a minute."
Gideon slid the knife into his pocket and grabbed Quinn by his throat. "Are you lying to me?"
"Why don't you go out there and check? Easy enough to do."
He glanced at his bodyguards and with the barest nod of his head, they let Quinn go. Just as he was getting his bearings, Gideon grabbed the neck of his shirt, catching him off balance, and pulled him out onstage.
Quinn blinked at the bright lights. The audience—whom he couldn't see but knew were out there in the darkness—was deadly silent.
A large man in a leather jacket was in the middle of presenting the award for lifetime achievement, and he looked annoyed by the interruption until he saw that it was Gideon. Then he graciously backed off the stage, leaving it clear.