The Ortega Project

by Linnea Alexis

  Besides Roman, baby Christian was all she had. She tucked a soft, yellow baby blanket decorated with white bunnies around him, and smiled at her innocent babe asleep.

  Easing the bedroom door closed, she buttoned her pajama top and padded back into the living room. She plopped on the sofa, drew her legs up, and turned on the television. With jangled nerves from lack of sleep, she channel-surfed, searching for a show that promised belly-laughs. Choosing a Frasier rerun, she snuggled under a fleece blanket.

  A key sounded in the front door. Tossing the blanket aside, she sat upright and held her breath, hoping it was Deanna.

  The door creaked open. “Anybody home?” Deanna asked.

  Hearing her friend’s cheerful voice, Grace’s breathing returned to normal. “Only Christian and me.”

  “No Roman?”

  “He left hours ago.”

  Deanna flipped on the lights and headed into the kitchen. “Have you called your mom yet?” she asked, pulling a bottle of Coke from the refrigerator. Lately, Deanna’s mantra seemed to be call-your-mom. Call-your-mom. Call-your-mom.

  “I will.”

  Deanna arched one brow. “Yeah, right.” She closed the refrigerator door and scanned the living room. “Where’s the little squirt?”

  “In the bedroom. Sleeping, thank God!” Grace wound her hair into a twist and fastened it with a hairclip.

  “Good.” Deanna tipped her soda. “Hopefully, tonight you can get a full night’s sleep. You’re starting to get dark circles under your eyes.”

  Grace chuckled. “I don’t even remember what it’s like to sleep through the night.”

  “With him asleep, you can call your mom. Right? No more excuses.” Deanna set her drink on the coffee table. “I’ve got to get out of these clothes. Be right back. Call your mom now.”

  As much as she hated to admit it, Deanna was right. Grace had run out of excuses about why she couldn’t make the call and now guilt weighed heavy on her heart. She wiped her sweaty palms on her pajama bottoms, and plucked her cell phone from the coffee table. She hit speed dial, and after one ring, someone answered.

  “Hi, Mom?”

  “Honey, I’m glad you called. Your dad and I have been worrying about you since you-know-who… We’ve always been able to talk to each other about anything. I miss that…How’s school? Tell us everything you’ve been doing.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve been kind of busy. With school and work and all.”

  “About the whole Jake fiasco. What he did—”

  Grace didn’t want to talk about Jake. “There’s something you and Dad need to know. Something’s happened.”

  A gasp sounded from the other end of the line. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  Christian chose that exact moment to howl. Grace slammed her cell to her chest, and prayed her mother didn’t hear him cry. To quiet her son, she ran into the bedroom and slipped a pacifier in his mouth. It worked. He stopped crying. That was close. Maybe her mother hadn’t heard him cry.

  “Where are you?” her mother asked.

  “Home.”

  “Was that a baby crying?”

  Oh God, she heard him. “Yes.” She closed her eyes, dreading the questions that would surely follow.

  The voice on the other end sounded casual, but suspicious. “Whose baby is it?”

  “Uh….” She couldn’t bring herself to answer. Every inch of her five foot eight body quaked. A sick feeling swept over her. As much as she wanted to tell her mother it belonged to a friend, the words stuck in her conscience. She didn’t want to lie anymore.

  “Grace, are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I asked you who the baby belonged to.”

  Her hands shook and she took a deep breath. “Mom, I…uh….” Instead of conjuring up some sophisticated answer, she simply blurted, “Mine.” She’d finally said the once-feared word. Tears welled. Her worrying was for naught. “He’s mine, Mom. My baby.” The heavy burden she’d carried for so long lifted.

  Silence screamed from the other end of the line.

  “When did you have this baby?”

  “Nine weeks ago,” she answered softly, closed her eyes and waited for her mother’s response.

  “What?” Mom shrieked. “That’s over two months! And you didn’t tell us?” Silence. “Is it Jake’s?” she asked, her voice lowering to a growl. Jake would be the obvious assumption.

  Grace bristled at the thought of Jake touching her. “No.”

  “It’s not?” Another uncomfortable pause zinged her from the other side of the conversation. “Then who’s the father?”

  “He’s someone you don’t know. I met him here—after Jake and I broke up.” A sob forced its way up from her heart. “Please don’t hate me.”

  “I could never hate you. You’re my daughter.” Her mother’s voice trembled. “I love you.”

  Tears spilled from her eyes. “I love you too, Mom.”

  Her mother cleared her throat. “Now tell me about my grandchild.”

  Grace wiped her eyes. “It’s a little boy. His name is Christian Alexander.”

  “Tell me about the father. When am I going to meet him and my grandbaby?”

  “His name is Roman. I’m not sure when you’ll be able to meet him. Right now, he’s not doing too well. He has a…blood disorder.” She wasn’t lying. He did have a blood disorder. Sort of.

  “I feel terrible. I should have been there for you.” Racked with sobs, her mother continued. “I could have helped out. I was sick as a dog the entire time I carried you.” Regaining her composure, her mom spoke with conviction. “I’m going to fly out to spend time with you and meet my grandbaby as soon as I can, but it’ll have to wait until next week.”

  “Please Mom, you don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I do. I have to see my grandson.”

  “I’ll email you a picture.” An uncomfortable pause followed. “I have more news that should make you happy. Roman and I are getting married.” Knowing her mother would start pressuring her into having her dad perform the ceremony, she decided to drop one more bomb. She squeezed her eyes shut. “He wants to go to Vegas.”

  “Why wouldn’t he want to be married in your church?”

  “He’s not Baptist.” She shook her head and moved the phone from her ear, staring at it in disbelief. Not Baptist? Considering his blood disorder, religion was the least of his problems. Her mother didn’t comment, so her explanation seemed to work. She returned the phone to her ear.

  “Okay, I understand. I think.” Her mom sounded confused and she didn’t blame her.

  She needed to hang up fast before her mother began her anti-Vegas spiel or worse yet, before she started asking about Roman’s blood disorder. “Oops. Got to go, Mom. I need to feed my baby. I promise I’ll e-mail you a picture of him tomorrow. Love you,” she rattled off at machine-gun speed.

  “Love you, too.” Her mother barely had time to respond before Grace hung up.

  Deanna stood in the doorway, holding the drowsy baby.

  “Look. I’m still shaking.” Grace held up her trembling hands.

  “You did good, kid.”

  “My mom wants to come out for a visit. That’s all I need—her and Roman together. What if she can tell he’s not exactly what she expected in a future son-in-law?” She snorted. “A blood disorder. I told her Roman had a blood disorder!”

  They broke out in a fit of giggles.

  “Aren’t you glad you talked to her?”

  Wiping away tears of laughter, she nodded.

  “What about your dad?”

  “She’s going to tell him about Christian. But before he gets too spun up, she’s going to remind him that seven months after they were married, I showed up.”

  44

  Roman

  Superhuman strength and bat-like night vision were what Roman liked most about being a vampire. The downside—blood thirst. But if he had a choice between being a vampire or a human, he’d choose the latter. Mortal men wer
e able to make love to a woman without wanting to sink their fangs into her flesh while riding the crest of passion.

  He lounged on the sofa sipping a Bloody Mary, made with real blood, when Gabriel, dressed in all black, strutted into the living room of their safe house.

  “You coming along?” Gabriel slipped on a Chicago White Sox baseball cap and brought the brim down low to shade his eyes.

  “Nope. Thought I’d work out, built back my strength.” He sipped his drink. “My nights of trolling the infamous Ortega Highway are behind me.”

  Traffic accidents were commonplace along the dangerous, isolated highway, allowing vampires to feed on the fatal and near fatal accident victims until ambulances showed up. Sometimes ambulances took up to a half hour to arrive, leaving plenty of time to fill their bellies.

  He loved the sport, but the hit and miss outcomes frustrated him. Hunting in packs brought better results, but since Grace, he’d lost his taste for hunting. He held up his glass. “Sure you don’t want me to fix you a drink for the road? It’s fresh.”

  A car horn blared and Gabriel glanced over his shoulder at the kitchen door. “The natives are restless.” He scooped a sheathed knife from the top of the coffee table.

  “Catch you later.”

  “Don’t feed on any animals,” Roman reminded him. Since vampires had died from drinking animal blood whose skin absorbed the natural garlic-based repellent, everyone still had to be extra careful. He chugged down the rest of his drink and headed into the kitchen to rinse his glass in the sink.

  Grace filled his thoughts. Her kiss. The feel of her body next to him. Him inside her. They would be married soon and he would head up a family again. After all these years. Christian Alexander Santos! Thinking about his son warmed his soul. Thinking about Grace made him hard.

  At the kitchen table, Doc slouched over open binders spread out before him. Curious how Doc’s work was progressing, Roman glanced at the data. “How’s it coming? Anything yet?”

  Doc exhaled loudly. He pushed his eyeglasses to the top of his head, and rubbed his eyes. “I still can’t figure out where I screwed up.”

  “Right now we’ve got bigger problems.” Roman ambled back to the sink and stared into the darkness outside the window. “Gabe got wind of an ambush.”

  Doc looked up from his work. “By who?”

  “Apparently, the priests aren’t too happy that Gabriel and I are still around. By now, the team of hunters trained by Father Lucas—the same hunters who killed Seth—have become more experienced. More deadly. Gabe also reminded me that your esteemed ex-boss is still alive and well and searching for us. Guess he’s none too pleased the two of you ran off with my body. He doesn’t like loose ends. So it seems it’s a good thing I was turned. I’ll need vampire strength and speed to stand up to our enemies.”

  45

  Grace

  Grace spent the afternoon in a campus coffee shop, enjoying lunch and gossip with former classmates. She also used the get-together as an excuse to show off her beautiful son and the black pants suit she’d recently purchased.

  But she stayed much too long and Christian grew tired and fussy. He had to be fed and put down for a much needed nap. Anxious to get him home, she bid a hasty goodbye to her friends and hurried to her Sentra. After belting Christian into his car seat, she climbed in behind the wheel, and turned on the ignition. The radio blared the latest Maroon 5 hit. She peered over her shoulder and shifted into reverse.

  Someone tapped on the driver’s side window. Her breath caught and she let out a yelp. She hit the brakes, and her head jerked in the direction of the tapping.

  Brent stared in at her, laughter showing in his eyes. He motioned for her to roll down the window.

  Shifting into park, she lowered the window, but kept the engine running, hoping he’d get the hint that she needed to keep their conversation short.

  “So what brings you back to our old stomping grounds?” A big smile lit up Brent’s face.

  She turned down the volume of the radio. “I met a few friends for lunch. How about you?”

  “Tying up a few loose ends.” His gaze riveted to the back seat. “Yours?”

  She glanced at Christian in his car seat, sucking on a pacifier. “Yeah.”

  “Boy or girl?” He leaned closer to the open window, shifting his stance for a better look at the back seat.

  She grimaced. “A boy. His name’s Christian Alexander.”

  “Great name.” He stepped back. His brows drew together. “I hadn’t heard you’d married.”

  “Actually, I didn’t.” Her grip tightened on the steering wheel.

  He winced as his face reddened slightly. “Oops. Sorry.”

  “No worries.” She gave a dismissive wave. “We haven’t seen each other in months, so you had no way of knowing. But his father and I are planning to marry soon.”

  Brent showed a sheepish grin, unable to hide his relief. “Well then, congratulations are in order. When’s the big day?”

  Dammit. I knew he’d ask. “We haven’t set the date yet. We’re still in the planning stages.”

  “How old’s your baby?” he asked, nodding at Christian.

  She glanced at her son in the rearview mirror and smiled. “Ten weeks tomorrow.”

  “He’s a beautiful baby.” His eyes widened. “Hey, I want to thank you for helping me decide to make a career change.”

  Her brow furrowed, trying to recall any conversation they may have had on the subject. “How’s that?”

  “Remember when I gave you a ride home in my Miata?

  “Ah…your birthday present.”

  He hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Your questions about the Catholic Church started me thinking seriously about the priesthood.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m in the seminary now.”

  Her stomach dropped. “I’m happy for you. I know you’ll do well.” Recalling her unpleasant encounter with Father Darius, she wondered—was Brent an enemy now? She chewed on her bottom lip and squirmed. “Sorry I can’t talk right now. I need to get going.”

  “Let’s stay in touch. You still have the same number?”

  Grace nodded.

  He eyeballed Christian again. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” Grace grinned and quickly rolled up the window.

  Brent waved to her while she finished backing out of the parking space.

  Heart pounding, she drove down the nearest row of cars to get away from his questions. Before exiting the lot, she checked her rearview mirror. A man approached Brent and pointed at her car. Crawford. She recognized him from photos on the Ortega Research Institute’s website.

  Was Crawford asking about her? Her breath caught. Brent had helped her move into Deanna’s apartment. He knew where she lived.

  The only way to protect her son from vampire hunters sent by the Church, and from Crawford, was to get as far from Southern California as possible. Suddenly, paying a visit to her parents in Michigan seemed like a damn good idea. Maybe she could stay in the family’s vacation cabin located on a small, private island—a perfect place to hide.

  46

  Roman

  After rinsing his coffee mug in the kitchen sink, Roman heard a faint whistle and looked up. As a projectile headed straight at him, he angled his torso out of its path. The crossbow’s bolt shattered the window pane and zipped past his ear.

  Outside, twigs snapped. Movement, followed by thundering footsteps headed in his direction.

  “Ambush,” he shouted and ducked behind the sink.

  Had the archer returned to finish the job he’d started in the avocado grove in Riverside County, as promised? If so, who tipped him off regarding Roman’s whereabouts? Was there a mole in their midst?

  Attacking at dusk, the assassins probably assumed the vampire residents would still be asleep. They obviously hadn’t counted on Roman being an early riser.

  At the back of the house, shouts came from behind closed bedroom doors.

  Gabriel led
the charge, followed by Paulo. Prepared for battle, they carried pouches filled with wooden stakes, and sawed-off shotguns loaded with silver bullets—in case some of the attackers were shifters. If the attackers were vampires, the ammunition would temporarily disable them, giving Gabriel and Paulo enough time to drive stakes into their hearts.

  Armed with a loaded crossbow, Mavis brought up the rear.

  Roman jumped up and grabbed a butcher knife from the wooden block on the countertop. Another shot flew through the broken window, barely missing his head. Standing, even for a split second, proved to be a reckless move. But he had no choice. He needed a weapon to defend himself and his fellow-vamps. He crouched lower, keeping his head well below the countertop.

  War cries came from every direction. The house was surrounded. They were outnumbered and in a whole lot of hurt. Windows crashed at the back of the house, drawing Gabriel and Paulo toward the noise. Gunfire followed. Lots of it.

  Someone kicked in the kitchen door, sending it crashing to the tile floor. A hooded archer stood in the doorway, bow drawn. Mavis drew her crossbow. The archers faced each other, poised to kill. From the archer’s stance and demeanor, Roman recognized him as the same vampire who tried to slay him in Temecula. Once again, he seemed to be in charge of the assassins. But who was he?

  The archer faced Mavis. “Put down the crossbow. Our battle isn’t with you. It’s with Roman. Where is he?”

  Roman held his breath and watched the exchange. He didn’t want anyone else to die because of him. He stood, arms raised in surrender. “Here I am. Come get me.” Maybe he could get in one good lick before his slaying.

  Mavis sneered. “He has a life mate, Trey. And a son.”

  The archer sent to destroy him had a name. Trey. He would have to find out more about the mysterious assassin. First, he needed to put a face on the hooded vampire who wanted him dead.