Quinn (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 12)

by D. B. Reynolds

  “I didn’t—”

  “No, you didn’t. Your sin was even greater. To swear falsely on the blood of a lord. . . .” Quinn gave him an almost sad look. “Your choice. Your consequences.” Pulling the sleeve down over his bloody left arm, he held his right hand out instead. With a thought, he filled his empty palm with a ball of blue fire that danced to its own music in the dim light. He raised his eyes slowly, meeting the vampire’s fearful gaze. “Burn,” he said simply.

  And the vampire burned, twisting and screaming as he was engulfed in a cloud of blue that seared his guts and sizzled on his skin. The other vamps stared in horror, shrinking away from him as though fearing the invisible fire would spread.

  Quinn watched and felt nothing. This vampire would have betrayed him, would have endangered every other vampire, and every human, in his household. One couldn’t tolerate a viper in one’s own nest. If anything, the foresworn bastard had gotten away too easily. Quinn only regretted that he didn’t have the time to prolong the vamp’s agony as he deserved.

  With a snap of raw power, he increased the flame’s heat until the vamp simply disappeared, incinerated in an instant, a pile of dust on the garage floor. He eyed the pile in distaste. They were going to need a private space outside for this sort of thing. Or at least, a concrete floor and an efficient means of vacuuming.

  But he was done for, more tired than he could remember being in a long while. Sunrise wasn’t far away and he’d bled enough for one night.

  “Make sure everyone is secure for the day,” he told Adorjan, then left the garage with Garrick at his side. Someone had apparently decided he needed a bodyguard, even in his own house.

  “We need to accelerate work on the basement vault,” he told his cousin.

  “I know. We’ve already made it livable and private, gotten rid of the windows, reinforced the above-ground portion of the walls, both inside and out.”

  “We need vault doors at the stairs. One up, one down.”

  Garrick nodded. “With your permission, I’d like to call Lucas’s man Ronan, to get a referral for the big doors.”

  “Lucas,” Quinn said, “is a fierce fighter, and by all accounts a good lord to his people. He’s also far too proprietary when it comes to this island, and he’ll stick his nose in everywhere if I don’t push back from the outset. But go ahead and call Ronan. Ask about the doors, but don’t tell him anything else.”

  “I’ll be careful. You calling it quits for the night? It’s early enough that we could hit a local pub if you need it.”

  Quinn shook his head. “Tomorrow night will be soon enough. We’ll go out first thing. We might as well establish ourselves in the local blood bar.”

  “If there’s nothing else, then, I’ll give Adorjan a hand.”

  “Nothing. I’ll be in my quarters, tucked away safe and sound.”

  “I’d rather you be tucked in the basement.”

  “Later. I need privacy right now. I might come down before sunrise, but, if not, I’m secure enough.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  Quinn nodded and headed down the hall alone. Garrick was right. He should be spending his days in the basement. But until it was completely renovated, he preferred his own quarters. The basement was as big as the first floor. It was one of the reasons he’d bought the house. It meant he and his vampires could have a separate and secure space for daylight sleep, behind vault-style doors, with small, private rooms for everyone, and larger rooms and suites for him and his senior staff. And after the basement was completely renovated, he’d turn his attention to privacy of a different sort. He wanted more land, more distance between him and his neighbors, even if that meant buying every property that touched his. Distance equaled safety, as well as privacy. The blood bars might be popular, but not everyone embraced the existence of vampires. There were still plenty of dangers out in the world for his people.

  Including a certain redhead who was claiming far too much of his thoughts. He should walk away before he got in any deeper with her. She was a problem he might have to solve someday, and it would be much more difficult for everyone if he and Eve were still involved. The problem was, he didn’t want to walk away. What he wanted was to sink his fangs into her pale neck, and let her sweet blood roll down his throat while he fucked her senseless. But that would be hard to do while she was dead set on killing vampires—all vampires.

  Chapter Eight

  EVE PARKED DOWN the block from Quinn’s house, just as she had the night before, but she wasn’t sneaking around this time. And she wasn’t climbing any trees either. She’d worn a skirt and sweater, and her stiletto-heeled boots. She figured if she was going to face down a badass vampire, then she should wear her badass uniform. It might not be as effective with Quinn, since, well, he already knew what was under the clothes, but it couldn’t hurt. He might not want her as mindlessly as those other vamps had—the ones she’d killed, she admitted to herself—but he wanted her. The sex between them had been flaming hot, and she hadn’t been the only one feeling it.

  She tugged on her skirt to straighten it, then smoothed her sweater down and pulled on her short jacket. She told herself she wasn’t dithering; she was cold. But she’d never been very good at fooling herself. Shutting the car door with a muted click, she crossed the street and followed the wall along Quinn’s property until she reached the wooden gate. One half of it stood open. There weren’t any big vampire gang fights tonight apparently. She didn’t get within two feet of the open gateway, however, before she was confronted by a pair of very dangerous-looking males. They didn’t point their weapons, but they didn’t conceal them either. They were both wearing matte-black machine guns on slings around their necks, their hands resting with deceptive ease on the weapons. She had no doubt they could fire and shoot faster than she could say the words. Just as she had no doubt they were both vampires. They weren’t obvious about it—no fangs or gleaming red eyes—but it was dark, and they were guarding Quinn’s house. After five years of studying and stalking vampires, she could make a good guess at Quinn’s position in the hierarchy. He was powerful enough to have this house, even though he’d only just arrived in Ireland. Powerful enough that other vampires were trying to kill him, because they felt threatened by him. Trying and failing, she added. She didn’t know exactly how vampire power worked, but she knew what she’d seen during the fight in Quinn’s yard the night before. And that had been some serious shit.

  “Hi,” she said to the guards cheerfully. “I’m here for Quinn?” She said it as if unsure of her information and hoped they’d assume she was a blood whore. Or whatever they called the women who could be ordered like take-out food. Probably something nicer, like “date,” maybe.

  The two vampires didn’t change their expressions, and they didn’t say a word. They just simply stared at her. She was about to repeat her request when the front door opened, and Quinn’s cousin appeared in the doorway. Giving her a long look, he exited the house and walked toward the gate, his heavy boots crunching on the thick gravel drive. Unlike the other night, when he’d claimed to be the nicer cousin, the look he was giving her held nothing but deep hostility as he came up behind the two guards.

  “What do you want, Eve?”

  “I want to talk to Quinn.”

  He snorted. “Yeah. Like that’s going to happen. I know about your hobby, darling.”

  Eve bit back her frustration. She’d hoped Quinn had kept quiet about her hunting activities, but she should have known better. He and his cousin were close, and she was the enemy. Of course, he’d told Garrick. He’d probably told the big bodyguard, too. Or maybe not, she considered. That guy would have killed her by now if he’d known.

  “Look,” she said, trying to be reasonable. “I get that you don’t like me much.”

  Garrick snorted again.

  “Or at all. But I need to talk to Q
uinn. Can’t you at least ask him if he’ll see me?”

  He stared at her a moment longer, then spoke to the two guards. “Hold her here. Don’t touch her. If she makes a move, shoot her.” With a dark glance in her direction, he spun on his heel and crossed back to the house.

  “Bastard,” she muttered, then gave the two guards a sweet smile. “He didn’t say I couldn’t talk.”

  QUINN SAT IN HIS very comfortable office, with a lovely, warm blaze dancing in the stone fireplace, staring at the facts and figures filling the computer screen in front of him. Leaning back in his chair until it tipped nearly to the wall, he switched his gaze to the gargoyle occupying one corner of the high ceiling and muttered, “Why the fuck didn’t I stay in Maine? I liked it there. Raj left me alone, and the whole state was essentially mine. I could’ve—”

  His pointless musings were interrupted by a flurry of activity out in the drive, followed by footsteps and the front door opening, then voices—all of which he recognized. The front door closed and the footsteps came up the stairs to his office.

  “Come on in, Garrick,” he said, before his cousin could knock.

  The door cracked open a fraction and his cousin slipped inside. “Eve is here.”

  “I know. Where is she?”

  “Better question, how’d she find this house?”

  “That is a good question. Why don’t you bring her in here so I can ask her? Where’d you say she was?”

  “I didn’t. She’s out at the gate, where you should leave her. Or send her on her way.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “Because I know how you feel about her.”

  Quinn sighed. “Let her in. And, no, you can’t search her. But I will,” he added before Garrick could protest. “And you can watch, just in case she overpowers me.”

  Garrick studied him a moment longer, clearly unhappy and deciding whether there was anything he could do about it. There wasn’t. “I’ll be right back,” he said finally.

  Quinn waited. He thought about getting up. It was the courteous thing to do. But he was too well-versed in power plays. She’d all but kicked him out of her house. But this was his. Fuck courtesy.

  Eve walked in ahead of Garrick, shooting a dirty look over her shoulder before turning to give Quinn a warm smile. As if she hadn’t been telling him she hated him just last night. The smile dimmed a little when he didn’t get up and didn’t smile back.

  She bit her lip nervously, and he watched, thinking he’d like to bite it himself, but he was careful to keep the thought off his face.

  “Quinn,” she said, hesitantly breaking the silence, “we should talk.”

  “So, talk.” He stood and walked toward her, while Garrick stood in the doorway, watching. He’d been joking about that, but apparently Garrick had taken him seriously. “Take off your jacket,” he told Eve.

  “What?”

  “Take off the jacket and drop the purse.”

  She hugged her purse to her chest. “What? Why?”

  “Because I’m no fool, and you carry a knife.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “I’m not letting you pat me down!”

  “Why not? I’ve done it before. Although, this time, it will probably be less pleasurable. For you, anyway.”

  Her pretty eyes narrowed in irritation. “Fine,” she snapped. She would have dropped her purse to the nearby table, but Garrick caught it up first. He raised one eyebrow before she could protest, then chuckled as he opened the bag and pulled out a small Sig 9mm. He held it up for Quinn to see, then set it aside and went through the rest of the purse, before tossing it onto the table.

  “Your turn,” Garrick told Quinn, crossing his arms with a stubborn look.

  Quinn smiled. “Lift your arms out to the side, Eve. Hold them there.”

  She glared daggers at him, but did as he asked.

  “Love this sweater,” he crooned, running his hands over her back and sides, grazing the swell of her full breasts, and meeting her eyes the entire time. He slid his hands down to her hips, following the line of her skirt to her bare thighs, grinning at her outraged look when his fingers slipped briefly beneath the hem and between her thighs. “I think she’s safe, Garrick,” he said, speaking over her head.

  “What about the boots?” his cousin demanded. “Those heels—”

  “Would make a damn fine weapon,” Quinn agreed. “But I like to think I could stop her before she managed to take them off. I’m not totally helpless.” His voice hardened just enough on the final sentence that Garrick understood his forbearance had limits.

  “As you say, my lord. I’ll be nearby if you need me.”

  “Not too nearby,” he said, with a lascivious wink for Eve. She made a disgusted sound, which only made him laugh. “I’ll be fine, Garrick.” He waited until the door closed, then walked around his desk and sat. He gestured at the chairs in front of the desk. “Have a seat.”

  “Can I put my jacket back on?”

  Quinn gave her a careful look. “I don’t think so. Who knows what you’re hiding in there. If you’re cold, I’ll warm you up.”

  She scoffed wordlessly.

  “I meant the fire, Eve.”

  Her blush was a vivid wash of color on her pale skin. “Why’re you being such a wanker about this?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know what this is.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “So you said. About what? You killing vampires?”

  “Sort of. I mean, we both want the same thing . . . sort of.”

  Quinn couldn’t help laughing. “How do you figure that?”

  “We both want to kill vampires,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and couldn’t understand why he didn’t see it.

  “No. You want to kill vampires. I want certain vampires dead, but not shot from a distance or stabbed with their dick in their hand. I kill my opponents in a fair fight, and only if they refuse to submit. That’s the difference between us.”

  “Only because you’re strong enough to win. Look, I’ve seen you fight. I know—”

  “When was that?” he interrupted, scrolling back over the fights he’d had since arriving in Dublin. There weren’t that many, and none that Eve should have witnessed.

  “Oh, um. . . .” She looked around, refusing to meet his gaze.

  “When you said ‘talk,’ I assumed you meant telling the truth,” he said dryly.

  She scowled, as if irritated that he wasn’t going to play along. Asking pesky questions and demanding answers. How unreasonable of him.

  “Okay, look,” she said.

  He tensed. Nothing good ever followed a lead-in like that.

  “I saw what you did last night. The fight and everything, I mean.”

  Quinn’s attention sharpened abruptly. “Did you?” he asked, coming smoothly to his feet and circling around to sit on the edge of the desk in front of her. “And how did that come about, darling Eve? For that matter, how did you find this house?”

  She drew a deep breath, then spoke all in a rush. “I put a tracker on your car the other night, and downloaded the app to my phone. It led me here.”

  He studied her. She was telling the truth. Adorjan was not going to be happy to learn he’d been outwitted by a human female. Particularly not this human female. Garrick’s suspicions about Eve had infected the other vampire, though Quinn was confident Garrick hadn’t told Adorjan about her vampire hunts. Because if he’d known that, Eve would be dead already.

  “Spying on each other, Eve? Is that the sort of alliance you had in mind?”

  “No. I only did it because you were being such a jerk about my rifle. You had no right. But then, after. . . . I started thinking about what you said, and I decided we needed to talk. So, here I am.
”

  He settled against the desk, arms crossed. “And if I refuse? What will you do with your ill-gotten information then? Sell it to the highest bidder? Do I need to worry about some grainy video turning up on YouTube?”

  “There’s no video,” she muttered, seeming finally to have found her sense of guilt.

  “Too bad. Still, a first-hand account must be worth something to the local news. Or were you going to sell it to someone else? Sorley maybe?”

  “No!” she snapped, her head coming up. “I wouldn’t do anything to help that asshole. And, besides, the last thing I want is to draw attention to myself, or my connection with vampires.”

  “Oh, right. Because under Irish law, you’re guilty of murder. Of course, there aren’t any bodies, so that’s convenient. Although there is a witness.” He smiled slowly and pointed at himself. “Where do you suppose they’ll put you?” he asked thoughtfully, then answered his own question. “Dóchas Centre, if you’re lucky. Limerick, if they decide to send a message. Very unpleasant. You might even get out in a decade or so. Maybe less, since you were only killing monsters. Isn’t that right?”

  She jumped to her feet and stormed closer, her dark eyes flashing with anger when her boots hit his, and she leaned in to snarl, “They killed my brother. I watched them kill him and could do nothing. What was I supposed to think?”

  “That the two who killed him were guilty of murder, not every fucking vampire in Ireland.”

  “And then what? Where’s my justice?” she demanded.

  “Justice, is it? Is that what you call murdering random vampires? Justice? You’re killing my people. Should I now go out and kill random humans? Is that my justice?”

  She glared at him, breathing hard, her breasts heaving, and face flushed. She looked so fucking sexy. Except for the glare, it was very much the way she’d looked after he’d fucked her.