The Vampire's Spell: The Hunted (Book 8)

by Lucy Lyons

  Steph took the proffered card though she felt she was biting off more than she could chew.

  “Can I ask you a question, sir?”

  “Of course.”

  “What happens if Mr. Ryan can’t be convinced to keep his parent’s best interests at heart?”

  “That would be unfortunate,” said Mr. Watins. “We have no tolerance for failure at Peters, Watins and Roe. I’m afraid the Kaurs would insist on your resignation.”

  Steph let the Marine mask fall even as her stomach lurched.

  “Of course, sir,” she said.

  “Then good luck to you, Ms. Brooks.

  Stephanie walked to her cubicle shell-shocked. This was one hell of an assignment to take on. Moreover, she wasn’t given a choice as to whether she would take it or not. Apparently, her options were to take it or get fired and succeed at it or get fired. Since fifty percent of the equation was getting fired, she didn’t like the odds, especially with an undisciplined playboy as the subject of her work.

  Improvise, adapt and overcome. Marines were expected to do more with less than any other branch of the service, and these three words were woven through every mission a Marine took on. She’d have to find the resources to accomplish this job, even if they were only a faith in her own abilities.

  “Stephanie?”

  She turned to see her supervisor, Darcy come out of her office toward her.

  “I was given to believe you’d be on assignment from here on out.”

  “Yes, Darcy. I just got done speaking with Mr. Watins.”

  “I see. Well, your desk is cleared out, because I need it for an associate who is going to be here.” Darcy sounded put out that she had to suffer the inconvenience of breaking in a new associate. “I sent your things by messenger to your apartment and sent your purse and backpack down to the car. I’ve also made sure that your paycheck is deposited automatically in your account as well.”

  Steph didn’t know what to say. This was terribly efficient and also disorienting. Adapting to civilian life hadn’t been easy on her, and in many ways she still hadn’t. But this shuttling her off without so much as a “do you want to” was too much like working for Uncle Sam.

  “I shouldn’t be gone that long,” said Steph.

  “Even if you return, you won’t be working for me anymore,” said Darcy derisively. “I don’t know what Mr. Watins sees in you, but once he taps someone for his special assignments, they go to a different department altogether. You better get moving. That car is waiting on you.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ryan

  Ryan stared at the lackluster poker hand he held in the backroom of a low rent bar on the Jersey Shore. Harry told him there was money to be made here but so far, the stakes were far smaller than if he played a casino room. Still the criminal ambience of the place was an interesting change of pace. But he was distinctly out of place wearing an Armani suit and a vintage Rolex watch. Still the dealer had converted his cash to chips without an arch of an eyebrow and Ryan got into the game.

  This hand was less than impressive and doubts as to the integrity of the dealer formed in Ryan’s mind. Two pair was better than one pair but not much else. The only thing working in his favor was that the probability any of these jokers he played against held a better combination was extremely small. So now the game hinged on how well Ryan could read his opponents. Fortunately, he did this very well.

  To his right was Pretend-Pro-Player. PPP wore sunglasses to hide his eyes, but his cheek twitched whenever he had a shit hand. The guy’s cheek twitched now. One down. To his right was Above-Average-Amateur who took a few pots, but who tended to fold when he wasn’t confident about his cards. This guy was harder to read, but Ryan caught what he could only describe as fear wafting off him. Maybe he had a similar hand but wasn’t sure how his two pair would stack up. No, the only guy who was a real threat was the one who sat directly opposite him. His expression never changed, and Ryan didn’t detect any noticeable tells.

  “Well, Kaur,” rumbled his opponent. “Your call.”

  Ryan hadn’t telegraphed his name when he entered but he wasn’t surprised that the man, who Ryan called Mr. Bluff in his mind, knew his name. Ryan’s face was splayed on one too many celebrity magazines and newspaper society pages for him to be anonymous.

  The man sounded supremely confident as if he knew he had a winning hand, but Ryan folded previous hands on this information only to find he was bluffing.

  Was he bluffing now?”

  Ryan smiled his most charming grin.

  “I tell you what, let’s make this really interesting,” said Ryan. He pushed his considerable stack of chips to the center of the table.

  “You sure you want to do that?” said Mr. Bluff with an ominous tone in his voice.

  The hairs on the back of Ryan’s neck rose at the warning in the man’s voice. Ryan became hyper; aware that this back-room game room was not a place he was supposed to be, and that the surrounding men weren’t the law-abiding types. But Ryan made a habit of not backing away from a challenge.

  “There’s no take backs in poker,” said Ryan. “My bet’s on the table. Anti-up or fold.”

  Mr. Bluff pushed his chips to the table and then drew out two banded stacks that marked the bundles as worth a thousand dollars each.

  “I see your bet and raise it by two grand.”

  The other two players threw down their cards in disgust. Mr. Bluff just tuned up the game by trying to buy the pot. He suspected Ryan didn’t have much of a hand and thought he could scare Ryan away.

  He didn’t know Ryan.

  “You know what? I don’t have that much cash on me. But what about my Rolex?” He pulled his grandfather’s watch from his wrist and put it on the table. A pinch of regret nipped at him. It was gold, of which Ryan was especially fond, and it was his grandfather’s watch.

  “How do I know it is real?” said Mr. Bluff.

  “When does a Kaur wear knock-offs? That watch is a vintage 1956 Rolex Datejust 6605 YG 18 karat President Bracelet. It’s worth is over seventeen thousand dollars. You can look it up online if you want. I’ll wait.”

  Mr. Bluff gave him the nastiest look Ryan ever saw from a poker player. Ryan stared at the man, noted his tobacco-stained teeth, his whiskey-soaked breath and the red in his eyes. It was at that moment he knew that Bluff didn’t have the goods to match the bet. Bluff just lost about three thousand in this hand, plus the rest of the pot. But it was Bluff that drew out hidden money and put in on the table which was against the rules in any poker game. At that point, Ryan had every right to toss in his watch.

  The first rule of poker was to size up the assets of the people you played. Bluff failed to do this. And Ryan saw the man’s face twist into anger as Bluff realized his fatal error.

  All of a sudden Bluff stood and with a shout launched himself over to grab Ryan. Bluff bunched the lapels of Ryan’s gray Armani suit in his hands, scattering both the cash and the chips. Ryan stared at the man. If Bluff thought that Ryan would be intimidated by this show of force, he was wrong.

  “You’ve just made my day,” said Ryan with a smile. Ryan had a wiry physique, but he was stronger than he looked. Ryan slid his hands under the man’s armpits and slung him sideways into the right-hand wall.

  “Get him!” called Bluff.

  Ryan sized up the toughs watched the game closely and thought he was going to have a difficult time getting out of this one. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

  “Police!” called a voice from behind the door that led to the bar. “Get on the floor and put your hands over your heads.”

  ***

  Several hours later Ryan found himself in his father’s study where he waited for the elder Kaur. Ivan Kaur was a stern taskmaster at any time, but never more so when it came to Ryan. If the younger Kaur stepped on the boundaries of Ivan’s sense of proprieties, Ryan was due for a stern lecture and some sort of punishment. In the past those proved to be a restriction in his allowance, or som
e extra work at the family business, or in the most extreme cases, not allowing Ryan to use any of the family cars. Ryan worked out what form his punishment would be this time, though he had to admit that being hauled out of an organized crime stronghold was the furthest he gone outside his father’s rule book. He couldn’t count on what would happen to him now.

  The doors to the library swung open and Ivan Kaur entered. Even for a man in his late fifties he was imposing and impressive. On this day, however, his face was drawn up in fury. He didn’t waste any time in preliminaries.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” shouted his father.

  Ryan sat in one of the leather high backed chairs in his father’s study and stared at his hands. He knew better than to answer his father’s rhetorical questions.

  “That game was in a bar owned by organized crime! Mobsters, Ryan! How do you think that will look when it hits the papers that Ryan Kaur was hanging out with mobsters?”

  Ryan agreed in retrospect it wasn’t his wisest move, but he wasn’t about to tell his father that.

  “And you bet your grandfather’s watch? Ryan, my father’s watch? He gave you that watch to show you the legacy you would inherit. What were you thinking?”

  His father had a point there. Ryan only thought about winning, not the priceless sentimental value of that Rolex.

  It’s bad enough that you crash every car we give you, or that you make a spectacle of yourself at your friends’ parties. But we had an agreement after that incident with that reality star—”

  “Jenna, her name was Jenna.”

  “Whatever. Thank God the paternity test came back that you weren’t the father. The point is,” and now his father was shaking his finger at him. “You agreed to clean up your act. This, this,” he said as his face became a frightening shade of red, “is beyond the pale. It is time you grew up.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Ryan. He was almost contrite, but right now he just wanted his father to stop screaming.

  “Sorry is not enough, Ryan. Do you not realize that we are up for a big defense contract to build weapons to defend against dragons? This is huge, Ryan. We would get information on dragons no one else has for us to develop these weapons. We would be the contractor for this kind of ordinance around the world. But we can’t get that contract if the government thinks any of us, and that includes you, are a security risk. And I’d say hanging out with mobsters qualifies as that.”

  Hearing his father’s words Ryan regretted his actions. He didn’t mean to put his family’s business in jeopardy. He only wanted a little fun but perhaps this time he went too far. Still that didn’t justify his father treating him like he was twelve years old.

  “Okay, I get the point, Dad. I’ll keep my profile low.”

  “Oh, you’ll do more than that.”

  “What do you mean?” said Ryan. Immediately he sat straighter and was on alert.

  “Ms. Brooks, you can come in now.”

  His father’s voice softened and he waved his hand to beckon in the said Ms. Brooks into the room.

  “Ryan, this is Stephanie Brooks, an associate at Peters, Watins and Roe. She’s going to be your advisor for the foreseeable future.”

  At first Ryan didn’t focus on his father’s words. Stephanie Brooks was quite simply one of the most stunning women he had ever seen. She was tall with an athletic frame, but it was her green eyes and red hair that were absolutely glorious.

  She gave him a contemptuous glance as Ryan stared at her. And then his father’s words sunk into his brain.

  “Advisor?” said Ryan cautiously.

  “Yes. She’ll shadow your movements and make sure that you act in the best interest of the company.”

  “Shadow my movements? You’re giving me a babysitter?”

  The elder Kaur folded his arms across his chest. “You can call it what you want.”

  “Oh, no,” said Ryan standing. Anger flared in his chest. “You have absolutely gone too far. I agree I went overboard and I won’t do it again, but I’m not, read me, not going to have anyone shadow my movements.”

  With that Ryan stormed out of the room.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Steph

  Steph stared horrified as Ryan Kaur stalked out the library like a petulant child.

  “Well,” said Mr. Kaur. His eyes bore into her like hot steel brands. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Stephanie. Because the owner of Kaur Industries was not a man to cross, and he held the key to her continued employment, she bounded after Ryan. She kept him in her sites as he blazed through the elegant mansion and followed him to the garage where he grabbed a set of keys out of gray metal box on the wall.

  “Mr. Kaur,” said Stephanie.

  Ryan’s eyes met hers blazing.

  “Your services are not needed,” he said sternly.

  Stephanie let the Marine mask fall over her face and stood ramrod straight. She stared him straight in the eye. It didn’t matter to her how angry he was. She sized up his lean, athletic frame and knew she could take him if she had to. But she didn’t know the parameters of this job, other than using her “persuasive moot court skills” to temper Ryan Kaur’s explosive nature.

  “Apparently they are,” she said coldly. “Do you not have any self-control? Your father is very concerned about you.”

  “Yeah, sure,” said Ryan. “He’s more concerned about a defense contract.”

  “Regardless, he is your father. You owe him your respect.”

  “Lady, you have no idea what you are talking about.” He moved toward a car, a red Jaguar convertible two-seater, and keyed open the door.

  “I’m sure your father does not want you to leave.”

  “Too bad,” said Ryan as he entered the car. He fired up the engine as the garage door opened and Steph had to act fast. She rushed to the car and jumped into the front passenger seat with a thud.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Wherever you go, I go,” she said.

  “Suit yourself,” said Ryan. He put the car into reverse and squealed out of the garage, and then as they cleared those doors, he threw the car into drive and pulled the car into a steep 180-degree turn. Steph bounced against the passenger side door as she jerked the seat belt into place on her body and snapped the buckle into place.

  “Are you a maniac?” she yelled.

  “Apparently,” said Ryan. His eyes smoldered with anger as he accelerated the car to race down the gravel driveway of the Kaur Estate. The Jaguar had a smooth ride, but the gravel flew around them. Stephanie thought it was a shame that the paint would get peppered by flying pieces of stone. It was a beautiful car, far beyond anything she would be able to afford. Steph’s initial impression of Ryan Kaur as a spoiled brat was confirmed by his abuse of this magnificent machine.

  At the open iron gates at the entrance of the estate Ryan made a hard right onto the country road that threw Steph against the center console that held the stick shift. In the Marines Steph was trained to handle life and death situations, but this man was absolutely reckless. He turned his head to smile at her.

  “Having fun?” he yelled above the roar of the wind in her ears.

  She rolled her eyes. Steph had more fun on ten km runs with a full field pack. But by the look in Ryan’s eyes he was not caring about her fun quotient. He was deliberately trying to frighten her, which wasn’t going to work.

  “Please,” she said trying to look unaffected by his antics. But this only encouraged Ryan to push limits, and he shifted the sports car into high gear. He utterly focused on the road ahead, anticipating the twists of the tiny country road. In a moment of madness Steph found his concentration and command of the road entrancing. The wind swept his straw colored hair into an unruly mess, and his tanned hand moved effortlessly on the stick. She got the sensation that the man and the machine were one, and she was in no actual danger even if he wanted to make it seem they were.

  Steph laughed and broke Ryan’s concent
ration a second when he glanced at her. Although Steph affected a serious demeanor she was a dare devil at heart, just as her father and brothers were, and the road flying under them reminded her of that. From leaping with her brothers from their tree house, to deploying in Afghanistan to an artillery unit, she always pushed the limits of what she could do.

  But Ryan Kaur was still a spoiled brat for all his mastery of the road. In the Marines, his attitude would be trained out of him within weeks. One thing she learned in the service was that the ones with the brashest attitudes were the first ones to break. She was sure Ryan Kaur would break with the first hard challenge he faced. Watching him take the road she understood Ryan Kaur now. He was the man who had everything, but more than that, everything he did came easily to him. It was evident he wasn’t just handsome with an athlete’s body, but he was too damn smart for his own good. Kaur probably figured he had all the angles covered, and there was no situation he couldn’t handle.

  Well, he didn’t know Stephanie Brooks. Ryan Kaur wouldn’t get the best of her.

  And apparently, Kaur was determined that Steph wouldn’t get one over on him. He up shifted once again, pushing the car towards eighty on a road that one should only drive thirty at most. This was the backwoods of Connecticut where the hilly roads were barely wide enough for two lanes, and a sharp curve popped every hundred feet. The ride took on a rollercoaster effect, with Steph rising from her seat as they flew down every hill and pushed her back into her seat as they climbed the next one and then she was pushed into the door or the center console on the next sharp curve. Her hair whipped her face as the tires squealed as the rubber sought to keep hold of the blacktop. She didn’t dare to speak and break Ryan’s focus. Every bit of Ryan’s concentration went into navigating the road at this frenetic pace. She wondered which would happen first, he burning off his anger, or they going up in a flaming wreck.

  The trees were close to the road; close enough to produce a whoosh, whoosh sound as they passed each one. Stone fences built by early colonists merged into a grey blur, and yet Ryan kept taking the road with a ferocity Steph would have appreciated if he was a comrade-in-arms. But he wasn’t. He was her charge, and she wasn’t doing a very good job of controlling the situation.