“It’s a very short list of people who are welcome in the compound, smartass.”
She laughed, a sweet, almost childish sound that he hadn’t heard her make before. He smiled.
“Well, just as your night depends on Sorley,” she said, leaning over to prop her elbows on his chest. “Mine depends on my mam, and I suspect I’m in for a lecture.”
“Lecture?”
“About what a bad daughter I am. I’m overdue for a reminder.”
He eyed her solemnly. “You could just stay here, you know. Give her a call instead. I’m sure the lecture would be just as effective.”
She shook her head, then stretched up to kiss him. The kiss started sweet, but went on and on, until it threatened to spark the passion that lived between them. As if she sensed the same danger, she broke away and sat up, breathing heavily. “Thanks,” she said after a moment. “But I have to make a personal appearance this time.”
“I’ll send someone with you, then. Things are too unsettled right now. I don’t want you going there alone.”
She gave him a disbelieving look. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been making this drive alone forever. I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe. But I’m not taking any chances.”
“Quinn, I don’t—”
He cut off her objection with a kiss. “Don’t waste your breath. I’ll make it someone you know. Come on.” He started to sit up, but she stopped him.
“Call me when you finish tonight, okay? So I know you made it out alive.” She said it as a joke, but there was fear in her eyes. For him.
Quinn hauled her close and kissed her again. Deeply, passionately. A long, lingering kiss meant to brand himself onto her heart. “I’ll make it back, Eve. I’m not finished with you yet.”
“Quinn,” she breathed, as her eyes filled with tears. “I’m serious. Sorley’s a sneaky bastard. He’ll do anything to win.”
“So will I, sweetheart. Sorley’s not the only one who can fight dirty.” He sat up then, taking her with him, until they both stood by the side of the bed. He turned her toward the bathroom and smacked her ass. “You get first dibs on the shower. Make it quick.”
She stared at him for a moment, her gaze serious as it met his.
“I’ll be fine, Eve. I promise.”
Nodding, she toed off her jeans and panties from the other leg, bent over to retrieve them from the floor, and then hurried to the bathroom.
As soon as the door closed, and he heard the shower running, he called Garrick. “Is everyone ready?”
“Waiting on you, my lord.”
“Ten minutes, Garrick. And then we’ll go give the vampires of Ireland a new lord.”
Chapter Twelve
“YOU THINK THIS is it?” Garrick’s question was sub-vocal, meant for Quinn’s ears only. It was difficult to have a completely private conversation in a vehicle full of vampires. Garrick sat next to Quinn in the back seat, with Adorjan in the front passenger seat and Casey driving. Quinn had called him back from Howth with the sunset, knowing the final confrontation with Sorley was near. When it came, and Quinn suspected it would be tonight, he’d need all of his American team at his back. They were the ones who’d sworn to him from the very beginning, not knowing what the future held, but believing in Quinn, in his strength and ability. Their loyalty had brought them to Ireland—a place where most of them had never set foot—to help him take and hold a territory of his own.
Quinn didn’t have to think about his answer for Garrick. “I think it is.” His gut was telling him that tonight was, indeed, it. Either Sorley would confront him openly, or he’d do something that would force Quinn to issue the challenge. Probably the latter, since Sorley was the kind to let others do the dirty work and take the responsibility if it failed.
Quinn didn’t intend to fail.
Sorley’s house was mostly dark when they arrived, his guards sharply alert when they opened the gates to admit Quinn’s two SUVs. A pair of guards tried to slow them down as they drove through, harassing him simply on principle, it seemed, since there was no other reason to do it. It wasn’t as if Sorley wanted a public battle in the middle of Donnybrook.
Casey ignored their demands and plowed through, followed bumper-to-bumper by the rest of Quinn’s team in the second SUV. The two vehicles came to matching tire-squealing stops, and the doors flew open to disgorge Quinn’s team. Everyone except Quinn, that is. Even Garrick jumped out to join the security cordon around the first SUV and hold Sorley’s people at bay. Quinn seethed silently, once again hating the necessity that had him sitting in safety while his people put themselves at risk. For him. But it was part and parcel of being a vampire lord. Not because the lords couldn’t take care of themselves, but because vampire society was old and rooted in tradition. It was expected that a vampire lord would have a retinue of guards who surrounded him whenever he ventured out. It seemed contrary to logic, but the absence of such a cordon would make him seem weaker, not stronger.
So, he sat and waited until Garrick opened the door for him to exit. And when he climbed out, he didn’t protest as his vampires closed in to form an impenetrable circle around him. Sorley’s vampires glowered at the show of force, but no one tried to stop him, or even approach, until they entered the large, marble-floored foyer of the house.
“Quinn.” Lorcan approached on his right, a friendly and completely fake, smile on his face. “You brought friends,” he said, eyeing the six vampires behind Quinn, including Garrick and Adorjan.
“Sorley’s message was short on details. I thought I might need a few fighters,” Quinn said blandly.
“This is more than a few.”
Quinn shrugged. “My people are protective. You understand.” He gave the other vampire a cool look that stopped just short of a challenge. He wasn’t about to be derailed by a confrontation with Sorley’s lieutenant. He’d wipe the floor with the vampire, but it would be a waste of time and energy. Or maybe that was the point. Maybe Sorley had sent Lorcan out as a sacrificial goat to weaken Quinn. He was a vampire lord’s lieutenant, after all. He’d put up a good fight. But Quinn wasn’t falling for it. “I’m assume Sorley’s in there?” he asked, gesturing at the double doors to the vampire lord’s throne room, behind which he could very clearly detect Sorley’s power like a simmering volcano.
Lorcan gave Quinn an absent glance, probably telepathing with Sorley, getting permission to proceed. Quinn didn’t wait. Gesturing for his people to remain close, he started forward, not even breaking stride when Adorjan shoved the doors open with a slap of his hands, hitting them so hard that they crashed back against the inside walls.
Lorcan hurried to get between them and the dais, signaling the four vampires who surrounded Sorley as he strode ahead to join them at the vampire lord’s side.
That damn dais will be the first thing I get rid of, Quinn thought to himself. Then hard on that, why bother? He wouldn’t be keeping the house anyway. Sorley had probably booby-trapped half the rooms, either as a defensive measure, or for guests he wanted to get rid of. And the décor was a bit overdone. Rather like the long, fur-lined cloak the Irish lord currently had draped over his shoulders. Quinn wasn’t sure what kind of fur it was—nothing from Ireland, he was sure of that. Ermine, maybe. A fur reserved for royals and the nobility, once upon a time. How very apt. Quinn wouldn’t have known where to find such a cloak, even if he’d wanted to. And why the hell would he?
He came to a halt a good distance back from Sorley, refusing to crane his neck to look up at the Irish lord. “Lord Sorley,” he said formally, refusing to use the alternate honorific of “my lord,” since Sorley was not, nor would he ever be, Quinn’s vampire liege. “I received your message, although the context was unclear. Nevertheless, here I am.”
Sorley glared down at him, hatred in every line, every nuance of his body. He’d probably known
why Quinn was in Ireland soon after his arrival, had probably seen through the cover story early on. But the cover had never been more than a delaying tactic. Sorley was smart enough, and his spies good enough, to have dug out the truth as soon as Quinn started making waves in Howth. If they’d been very good—or if Quinn and his allies had been worse—the Irish lord would have known about Quinn before he’d ever set foot on the island, and they could have stopped him before he reached Dublin. It would have attracted far less attention and caused fewer headaches for the Irish lord. Not to mention the ramifications of having his rule challenged in the open like this. Even if Quinn lost—which he wouldn’t, but if he did—the simple fact that Sorley had been challenged would be seen as evidence of his weakness. He’d be forced to fight off several more competitors before he finally re-established himself. And it was always possible there was a powerful vampire lurking somewhere in Ireland, just waiting for his chance to rule.
Too bad that hypothetical vampire hadn’t stepped up when he had the chance, Quinn considered. Too late, now.
Sorley leaned forward. “I ordered you to present yourself, not bring this rabble along with you.” He gestured at Quinn’s very efficient and well-ordered team. Hardly rabble.
“As I said,” Quinn responded coolly. “Your message was unclear.”
“Well, it’s clear now. Get them out of here,” he called over Quinn’s head, addressing the two vampires who stood by the now-closed doors.
“I don’t think so,” Quinn said. “They’re my people, not yours. I’ll determine whether they stay or go.”
Sorley stood, his rage a physical thing that tore through the big room like a wild animal, crashing into furniture and breaking everything it touched. “I am the Lord of Ireland,” he snarled, his lips drawn back over his teeth. “You and your people belong to me, as long as you’re on my island.”
Quinn considered his possible responses, but there was really only one choice. It was why he’d come to Ireland, after all. “Then maybe it’s time you stepped aside,” he said quietly.
EVE HADN’T BEEN fooled by Quinn’s blithe dismissal of his meeting with Sorley, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. She’d witnessed plenty of bloody fights during her days of stalking the vampires who’d been responsible for her brother’s death. She’d known vampires were violent creatures, even before she’d seen Quinn kill everyone who came up against him.
But, even though Quinn’s ultimate goal was to kill Sorley and take over his empire, she didn’t think that challenge was going to happen tonight. A fight like that, a battle for all of Ireland, would require more planning and preparation. If nothing else, they’d need a location where they wouldn’t risk a bunch of human witnesses. Vampires might have come out of the shadows in the strictest sense, but they didn’t exactly advertise how they conducted their society or their business. It was one thing to have paparazzi publishing glamorous photos of sophisticated vampires and their beautiful women, but it was something else entirely to have pictures of a no-holds-barred, bloody battle plastered everywhere, complete with exploding bodies that left nothing but piles of dust on the streets of Dublin. She didn’t think either Sorley or Quinn wanted that kind of a fight made public.
So, while she wasn’t happy at being cut out of the night’s festivities—was even a little pissed to be honest—she wasn’t worried about Quinn’s safety. He’d said the night’s meeting was vampire business, so it was probably just secret vampire stuff. They had to have plenty of those—secrets, that is—since they’d been around for a very long time, and most of that had been in hiding. Hell, for all she knew, Quinn and Sorley were deciding on the rules for when they finally got down to it and fought the big challenge. Was it some kind of duel? Like a cage match? Okay, probably not that. Quinn didn’t strike her as a cage match kind of a guy, although he would look fine stripped to the waist and battling it out. . . . She pictured Sorley as his opponent and the fantasy lost its edge. He was good-looking enough, but the whole evil vibe destroyed his appeal. The challenge had to be something like that, though. She’d sure like to find out what it was. Maybe she could persuade Quinn to let her come along for that one. Although, she’d probably have to be sneaky and just follow him instead.
That idea cheered her up immensely, so she was grinning when she left Quinn’s house and started across to the wooden gate, which was always closed these days. There were still plenty of guards around—more evidence that the big battle wasn’t tonight, because surely Quinn would have taken all of his fighters—and someone had brought her car inside the wall. It sat off to one side looking like the poor relation to every other vehicle there. The two big, black Range Rovers were gone. She’d noticed that Quinn always took those, since they had room for him and all his guards.
“Good evening, Miss Eve.”
She swung around at the familiar voice, blushing guiltily when she saw who it was. Numbers. Sorley’s former accountant, whom she’d semi-seduced, while trying to learn some of Sorley’s secrets. Not the vampire kind of secret, just the rich asshole kind. Like where he kept his money and what he did with it. Unfortunately, Quinn had caught her before she could pump Numbers for much information. He’d assumed she meant to kill the accountant, and she’d let him believe it, since it added to her tough hunter image. But then he’d laid on the guilt trip, and she’d confessed. Honesty was a pain in the ass sometimes.
Numbers was one of Quinn’s people now. He’d sworn some kind of blood oath that was apparently foolproof. If a vampire tried to fake it, Quinn would know and, well, things wouldn’t go well for the vamp.
“Hey, Numbers,” she said, smiling as she headed for her car, juggling her keys in one hand. How had they moved her car without the keys? Why did she even bother to ask these questions?
“Mac,” the vampire said, as he moved in to walk beside her. Not threatening, just companionable. It was odd how he managed that. He wasn’t as big as some of them, but he wasn’t small either. Maybe five feet, nine inches or so. But he was still a vampire, still stronger and faster than even the strongest human would ever be.
She glanced up at him, confused.
“Lord Quinn calls me ‘Mac.’ I like it better.”
“Oh. Okay. ‘Mac’ it is.”
He walked to the other side of her car and stood there, as if waiting for her to unlock the door.
She looked at him over the roof of the car. “Um. You need a ride somewhere?”
He returned her look with one of surprise and a little embarrassment. “Didn’t Lord Quinn tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“I’m, uh. . . . That is, he asked me to keep you company tonight.”
“Keep me company,” she repeated stupidly, a moment before it hit her. Quinn thought he was so funny. Of all the people he could have chosen, he’d picked Mac, aka Numbers, to keep an eye on her. The vampire she’d tried to seduce, or at least pretended to. “Look, you don’t need to do this. I told Quinn I don’t need a babysitter. I’m just going to see my mam.”
But he was shaking his head. “It’s not like that, Eve. He’s not worried what you’ll do. He’s worried someone will try to hurt you.”
“I’ve been taking care of myself most of my life.” Although, really, only since her brother had died, but the last five years had felt much longer than that. “I think I can handle it.”
“I know you can,” the vampire said fervently.
She blushed at this reminder of their prior meeting.
“But Quinn worries,” Mac continued. “It’s kind of hardwired into his nature. That’s what vampire lords do, they worry about things.”
“Not Sorley,” she countered.
He shook his head. “Even Sorley. His priorities are different, as are his methods for dealing with it, but he worries all the time.” He pulled open the unlocked passenger door. “Come on, Eve, what can it hur
t for me to go along?”
“I’m going to visit my mam. Trust me, you don’t want to be there.”
“So, I’ll wait outside and keep you company on the drive back.”
“I might not drive back if it’s too late. I’ll just stay in Howth.”
Mac shrugged. “I can stay at Quinn’s house there. No problem.”
Eve sighed. Clearly he wasn’t going to give in. He’d been given his orders and nothing else mattered. If she didn’t let him ride with her, he’d probably grab a car from the garage and follow her. “All right,” she said reluctantly. “Get in. But you’re in for the most boring night of your life.”
“I doubt that,” he said cheerfully, sliding into the small car. “I’m an accountant, remember?”
Eve had to admit that Mac was good company. He’d been Sorley’s accountant for decades, but he was also an inveterate gambler and had the stories to prove it. Turns out, there were definite advantages to being a vampire when it came to certain kinds of gambling. Eve knew about vampire telepathy, and how some vamps were stronger than others, although she was beginning to understand that she’d assumed every vampire had far more telepathic ability than they actually did. Some vampires were amazingly powerful, like Quinn. But the scale for the rest of them varied. Some could push a human to open the main Dublin Port gate, as Quinn’s bodyguard had the other night. Others were only slightly better than a persuasive human.
Mac, for example, couldn’t push a mind very hard, but he could read them like an open book. Particularly if the human was intently focused on something, like the cards they were holding in a poker game. Unfortunately, he explained, he loved gambling more than he loved winning. So, most of the money he won at cards went to pay his bookie, with whom he bet on everything from horse racing, to football games, to really stupid stuff, like the sex of the next royal heir, or who’d win the latest talent show or film award.
Quinn (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 12) Page 32