by Mary Hughes
One corner of Luke’s edible mouth rose. “And you said Meiers Corners was safe.”
“It is. This is probably a kid wanting gum money.”
“Hey.” The man shoved forward, pushing a wave of air before him stinking of testosterone. “I’m no kid. See this gun? Give me your cash.”
Mr. Ski Mask had stepped into my kill zone. I glanced at him, wondering if it was worth the bother to sweep his gun arm. His mask was beakier than usual. Almost boat sail proportions, like Marrone’s monolithic bodyguard. I frowned.
Luke said to the mugger, “One minute.” And insanely, turned back to argue with me. “You don’t have to deal with Marrone if you don’t want to.”
“I do if I want to get my down payment.” And find out why he was shoving into my business.
His fists landed on very fine hips, his eyebrows winging high. “You’d risk your life for mere money?”
“Not mere money. Real money. A small community’s ER doesn’t pay that well—or at least not this small community’s. Earning that down payment will take forever.” And in the meantime, Julian might sweep my buildings out from under me and Lizelle. I mirrored Luke, putting fists on hips. “Unless I want to be using a walker when I sign those mortgage papers, I have to earn real money. Which means dealing with Marrone.”
“Hey! Fuck.” The guy waved his gun. “This is a mugging. You people know what a mugging is?”
“Just wait a minute, will you?” Luke shook his head at me as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re insane. You’d work with that psychopath because of a building?”
Stung, I blurted, “It’s not just any building.” I clamped my mouth shut. Everyone might know I wanted the townhouses, but if anyone found out how desperate I was for them, Old Man Crahn would raise the price through the roof.
Luke arched a brow fully as chiding as Lizelle’s. “What, exactly, do you mean by that?”
“Hey. I said, gimme your cash.” The mugger cocked the gun, a useless gesture. The gun would cock and fire with the pull of the trigger. “And all your phones and credit cards and shit.”
With an impatient pursing of lips, Luke turned again to the mugger. “And I said, one minute.” To me, he said, “Alexis, if you need money there are more reputable ways of earning it.”
I sucked in an affronted breath. “If you’re implying what I think you are—”
“No! No. I’m not impugning your morals.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s Marrone’s morals that are suspect.”
“Money. Now!” The mugger slammed the gun to Luke’s temple with a thud.
Luke rolled his eyes. In a smooth move so fast I barely saw it, he swept the gun aside and punched the guy left-handed as he grabbed the gun with a sort of roll of his right wrist. While the guy reeled back, Luke ejected the ammo clip onto the sidewalk with a whoosh-clack, popped the round out of the chamber, then dropped gun and bullet clattering to the concrete. “Now, Alexis. As I was saying. Marrone is—”
“You fucker.” The mugger roared and tore off his mask, revealing the man from inside the café, the one with the sail of a nose. “You are dead.”
Chapter Eight
The sail-nosed man flicked fingers at the shadows between buildings in a “join me” motion.
Four more black-jacketed guys bled from the darkness. The first goon snapped out a pair of wicked blades.
Adrenaline hit my system, giving me a kick in the diaphragm. I sawed a few breaths, brain going hot.
Luke was the opposite, leaning back, cool and controlled. “You think you can take me?”
“Hey,” I said. “Us.”
“Yeah, we can take you, dickwad. Five against one. I’m liking those odds.”
“Hey,” I said again. “Five against two.”
“Zero against two,” Luke said. “Because you guys are assholes—big, puckered, zeros full of gas.”
Behind sail-nose, two of the jackets exchanged glances. One mouthed what does that mean and the other shrugged.
Not the sharpest scalpels on the tray.
Also not very alert. Luke’s hands flickered near his belt—and dime-size throwing stars appeared in their chests with twin thuds.
One looked down at himself and snorted. “You’re trying to kill us with dimes?”
The other laughed outright. He flicked at the thing. “We’re vampires, ass. This isn’t even silver. This little thing can’t hurt—”
Boom-boom. Two charges went off, one for each vampire, turning their chests into hollowed-out smoking ruins. With expressions of surprise, they keeled over.
“What the hell?” The sail-nosed leader gaped at Luke.
Luke grinned, teeth glinting in the streetlight. “That’s what happens when an electronics geek and a weapons geek get together. Baby’s got fangs.” He pulled out three more stars, brandishing them like he was fanning out a deck of cards.
“Shit. Retreat.” The leader faded back into the darkness. The remaining two jackets each grabbed a fallen goon and scrambled away.
Luke calmly slid the stars into his belt.
“That was impressive.” My words sounded muffled to me, heart still thudding in my ears.
He grinned at me. “It helps to have a techie brother and sister-in-law. C’mon, let’s get you home.”
Since I was going that way anyway, I didn’t fight him when he put a hand on my shoulder and steered me along the sidewalk. All right, I admit it. After that little incident, his companionship was nice.
And since I did appreciate it, I admitted grudgingly, “You were right. About Meiers Corners having changed since I lived here.”
“Much as I’d love to say I told you so, that was no random mugging. I recognized those particular assholes.” His mouth tightened into a line. “They were part of a gang that attacked Emerson’s. That’s why I was so crabby with you earlier. The v-guys who attacked weren’t part of the usual gang of incompetents. I don’t like unknowns.”
“Apology accepted.”
“That wasn’t an apology—oh hell, I guess it was.” His lips quirked into something that was almost a smile.
My insides lurched. His model’s face, warmed by that curve of lip, made me want to plaster my mouth to his and see how much more curve I could lick, nibble and deep throat, right on Fifth Street.
His eyes on me widened and he dropped his hand from my back.
My insides chilled. Because I missed his warm hand, not because I recognized the distancing tactic.
Trying to keep my tone light, I said, “Well, I get why they attacked you, lurking around outside the café, spying on their boss. But it seems odd Marrone’s men showed up at Julian’s.”
“Damn.” Luke stopped and stared down at me, gaze so narrow it put the brakes on my feet too. “Those goons were Marrone’s? How do you know that?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “But the café was empty, yet somehow they picked every table next to his? All big guys, sitting alert and puffed up like bodyguards? It’s not like Marrone gave them direct orders or anything, but he did nod that sail-nosed guy outside.”
Luke scowled. “I don’t like that. I don’t like it at all.”
“Me either.” The June night seemed suddenly cold. “Look, I only want to get home.”
He caught my shiver and put his warm hand on the small of my back again. The big palm both urged me into motion and made the shakes go away. “I can do that.”
Luke saw Alexis to her doorstep—she’d admitted she lived right next door to Emerson, but he knew that already. Even if his brother hadn’t been an information-gathering wizard, he’d have known. The whole damn town knew, thanks to their gossip maven Dolly Barton. He waited for Alexis to get inside—it was only proper, after all—then forced himself to turn and walk the few steps to Emerson’s neighboring property.
On the w
ay, his ear buzzed, brrrrrt, brt brt, a vibrational “Who are you?” (he tried to stomp the earworm before it continued… Who, who, who, who? Damn it). That was his earbud phone’s signal for unknown number. He frowned. With the best hardware and software, hooked into the dark net below and Elias’s government clearance above, the Alliance knew every piece of data on the planet.
There were no unknown numbers.
Extra-alert to his surroundings, nostrils flared and eyes sharp, he tapped his ear.
“Steel. It’s your old friend, Giuseppe Marrone.”
“Friend? Do friends usually set their flunkies on each other?” Luke tried to make it nonchalant but couldn’t quite keep the growl out of his voice. “You really ought to train them better.”
“Come now. I knew you’d wipe their noses. They were simply to get your attention.”
“You’ve got it.”
An annoying chuckle came over the line. “You know I’ve been promoted? Nosferatu’s first lieutenant. Finally.”
“Congratulations. Although it’s not like there’s a deep pool of talent to pick from.”
“Says the first lieutenant for the opposition. But I’m not calling to pick a fight. I’m actually calling for the opposite reason.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. My boss is getting a bit…erratic. Since he’s increasingly out of the picture, I thought you and I might take a leaf from Cuba’s book. Now would be a good time for our two factions to mend the fence. We can make contact and have a few discussions to lay the groundwork for the future cooperation of our principals.”
“You mean you want to hedge your bets.”
A theatrical sigh. “You’re too young to be so cynical. Look, it’s only talk, all right? Come to my office later today.” He rattled off an address in the Chicago metro area, one of the suburbs. “I’ll have my admin call you back with a time.” He ended the call.
“Terrific.” Luke popped the earplug piece and jammed it, annoyed, into his pocket. “I wish life would use a little lube first.”
He went inside to find Logan packing to return to Redfox Village, the Chicago suburb near Naperville.
“Haven’t Liese and the twins been discharged yet?” Luke watched his brother neatly fold maternity tops.
“In half an hour. She’s still bummed she won’t get to attend the wedding shower, but she needs her rest.”
Luke leaned against the jamb as Logan stacked the tops in the suitcase. “You sure you don’t want to take your girls home with you?”
“Liese needs her rest,” Logan repeated with a smile.
Luke really hated to wipe that smile off his brother’s face, but it had to be said. “Marrone called.”
Sure enough, Logan growled, “What did that fucktard want?”
“To meet. To parley, first lieutenant to first lieutenant.”
“Damn it.” Logan paused, a pair of jeans in his hands. “You can’t say no.”
“In case he’s playing it straight, right.”
“He isn’t. He couldn’t play it straight if you replaced his dick with a ruler.”
“Point.” He gave his brother a half-smile. “But I have to do it, nonetheless.”
“Well, don’t forget your first duty—your nieces.” He paused. “Which probably won’t be a problem, because they won’t leave you alone.”
Luke heard it then too, the scuffle of small feet.
“Uncle Luke!”
“Uncle Luke…where are you?” Voices piped from the stairway.
“Here he is.” A little blonde girl appeared in the doorway and motioned behind her. A second little blonde girl popped into sight, her arm wrapped in bandages, along with a sturdy little boy with black curls.
Sarah Jane grinned. “Hi, Uncle Luke. Guess what? Mommy’s letting Ellen Ripley and me stay here for a sleepover.”
“The proper way to say it is, Ellen Ripley and I. And if it’s a sleepover, why aren’t you asleep?”
Ellen Ripley was Sarah Jane’s twin. Luke shook his head to himself. Geeks ought not be allowed to name children. He briefly wondered what the baby boys had gotten. He hoped not Daniel Jackson and Peter Parker.
“Ellen Ripley and I,” Sarah Jane said. “We woke up early. Jaxxie’s still asleep, because she’s got her last day of school today. Rorik has school too, but he snuck out of bed.” She pointed.
Rorik was the black-haired boy, the son of Bo and Elena Strongwell, Luke recalled. He turned to his brother. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to take them home?”
“Don’t worry, Uncle Luke,” Ellen Ripley piped. “You’ll have help. Mommy called Ms. Zinnia. She’s coming to keep an eye on us too.”
Luke groaned. He remembered the human female nattering on about vampire rights until one’s ears fell off, and thought perhaps Mommy had really sent Ms. Zinnia here for a little peace and quiet at home. Her full name was Zinnia Steel, in the ancient practice of adopting her master’s household name. A bit uncomfortable, as her blond, graceful children looked exactly like Logan, though he swore up and down on a stack of hymnals he hadn’t fathered them. Luke hadn’t either. He briefly wondered who could have gotten the woman to stop talking long enough to impregnate her and immediately squashed the thought as not exactly kind.
Logan grinned. “She should be here in an hour or so.”
Ellen Ripley said, “We’re playing Red Light, Green Light, Uncle Luke, us against Rorik. You hafta come be on our team.”
“You hafta,” Sarah Jane echoed.
Luke raised a brow at his brother.
“You try keeping them from mixing their days and nights when one parent is our kind.” His expression was exasperated, but his tone was fond. “Sarah Jane, Ellen Ripley, you aren’t thinking of Jaxxie. She can’t join you. You aren’t being good guests if you play games your host can’t.”
The girls exchanged a glance, wordless twin communication Luke recognized.
“Aw,” Sarah Jane said. “I hate it when Dad’s right.”
“But I don’t want to go back to bed.” Ellen Ripley’s pug-dog expression was familiar to Luke from his own youth.
Logan glanced at the drawer he was packing, then gave Luke his own twin gaze.
Luke sucked it up. Super Uncle time. “Come along, children. I’ll tuck you in and tell you the terrible tale of the wailing woman.” As he chivvied small humans, he smiled to himself.
Truth was, he enjoyed having family to fuss over.
Lizelle ambushed me at the front door. The lamp glowing beside her favorite reading chair, the book in her hand, finger still marking her place, attested to her lying in wait for me. “Well? What did Marrone want? And why is your hair sexily mussed again?”
Rapidly finger-combing, I slid by her so that my back would be to her and she couldn’t pick out that my cheeks were burnished red too. Yes, sex was a normal and natural part of a woman’s life, and my bestie and I talked about it often, but something about Luke unsettled me. Made my blood and heart ask questions my brain couldn’t answer.
“He wants me to work for him. Marrone, that is.”
“What a great opportunity! John always spoke highly of Mr. Marrone. He’s on all the philanthropic boards. I used to see him quite regularly when I had time to do charity work.” While she still embraced being Mrs. John Umbras and her husband’s shadow.
I admitted grudgingly, “The money is spectacular. I’m hoping it’s the Bloodrug research facility—”
“I think it’s a capital D.” She spelled Bloo-Drug.
I had pronounced it as I thought of it, Blood-Rug. “Bloo drug? That doesn’t even make sense. What’s a bloo?”
“No, Bluh-Drug. Like blood and drug.”
“I’ve only ever seen the URL, and that’s bloodrug. I thought you’d be in bed.” I sat down on the old sofa, and she settled back in her chair.
“
Oh, I couldn’t sleep.” She tossed it off like nothing and followed it with the seemingly innocuous, “Are you ready for the wedding shower?”
“I’m getting the bride-to-be a gift.” Then, though I knew she’d argue with me, I admitted, “But I’m not going.”
“Of course you’re going. It’s right next door, for heaven’s sake. Your cousin is a bridesmaid. Why wouldn’t you go?”
“I hardly know the bride.”
“Pfft. You coached her grade school soccer team, mentored her winning high school science fair project, plus you babysat for her once when I couldn’t. You know her.”
What can I say? Small towns. There went that excuse. I rubbed my temples and repeated, “I’m getting her a gift.” My stomach contracted in on itself, a strange reaction it has to the idea that simply being civil to other human beings carried unknown emotional obligations.
“You know her well enough that you were invited, right?” Lizelle slammed the final coffin nail home. “You’re going.”
“We’ll have to see. I don’t know what time Marrone’s scheduling my tour. I’m supposed to call.”
“Are the BlooDrug labs in Chicago?”
“A suburb.”
“Might work.” She nodded, expression abstract, as if mentally considering all the possible angles, but not, as I thought, about returning in time for the shower. “You know, if you get a job there, we could even move back Windy-City way—”
“No!” Not within shouting distance of her husband…and then it hit me. Her mentioning John, speaking highly of Marrone, her thinking about moving back to Chicago, were all suggestive of contact with her husband. I scowled at her. “He called, didn’t he? John called you.”
She glared back. “So what if he did? He wants to work out a way to see Una. He deserves that much, doesn’t he? For all his faults, he was a good provider. If I were still with John, I wouldn’t be scrabbling to provide for my child. Why don’t you say what you really mean?”
“All right, I admit it!” I shot to my feet, driving a hand through my hair. “I don’t want you moving back to Chicago because I don’t like how John treats you.”