Immortal Distraction (31 page)

When she sought him out, he was sitting at his desk with his feet propped up on the top. He was shirtless and his hands were clasped on his stomach. He looked relaxed, but his serious expression that was staring at the ceiling told a different story. Brit’s guilt clutched her heart as she crossed the room to him, but when she reached him, he looked at her. He reached to her hand, and he pulled her down to his lap as he dropped his feet to the floor.

“We have no good excuse for being good at this, none.” His voice was soft and his expression caring and gentle. “Caring about someone other than myself…” He shook his head without finishing his statement. “And God knows you are literally the world’s biggest bitch.” He looked at her with a sweet smirk, and she couldn’t help but smile. “But we
are
good at this. I don’t care why.” He pulled her mouth to his as tears pricked her eyes.

He was right. There had never been two people more wrong for one another. But they just worked for some odd reason. They kept trying to screw it up every which way they could, but it was hopeless. She couldn’t stay away from him, and apparently, she had some hold over him too. Maybe he could love her someday … if she survived that long. And if he did love her, maybe she could give him forever, her submission, her dependence. It didn’t fit her—not by a long shot. But it sure seemed to fit them.

Chapter 26

“So whenerya comin’ back, kiddo?” Humphreys looked like he always did, smelled like he always did, and thanks to her very powerful nose, that smell was magnified tenfold. But his eyes had an odd kindness to them. She hadn’t ever truly believed the man hated her, but he was as big a dick as she was a bitch. It was just who they were, or at least who they’d been.

She stared into her coffee mug, kicking herself for ordering it when she should have realized what a taunt it would be to her senses. She missed coffee.

Nearly two weeks had passed since her mother died, and it had been over a week since she’d transitioned. This was the first time she’d been asked this question. Hell, the first time she’d even contemplated what her answer might be. “I don’t know.” She looked up to him, seeing his gruff expression studying her.

It was dark out and the diner where they’d met was empty. When Humphreys called, she’d cringed. She didn’t know what to say to the man. And now, sitting across from him, she was still clueless. She hadn’t told Angus she was meeting with him, and she’d intentionally chosen a time when she knew he would be out of the building. He and Truman were meeting with the man, Aaron, who Angus wanted to step in and fill Langford’s place. She knew he’d be gone for some time, and she preferred it that way. Brit wanted to share her life with Angus, but she wasn’t ready yet. Until Driscoll was gone, there would be no moving forward for them.

It had taken her days to realize it was at the core of their problems—every disagreement, every conflict seemed to circle right back around to Driscoll; at least hers did. He would never let her risk her life to bring the man down, and she could never give up that fight. And so she hid it from him, hating the lie. She wanted to be out at night alone, or at least without her entourage of fellow vampires. She wanted to be exposed and vulnerable to Driscoll. He’d singled her out when he’d killed her mother just to fuck with her, and she knew he was close. He might be a drug addict, but he was smart too. And he was vindictive as hell. Almost as much as she was.

Angus would be furious if he knew she was out alone, and there was still a chance he’d find out. The valet, Jonathan, watched her comings and goings, and she never knew when Ember might show up to say hi. It could all easily get back to her ward. Funny thing was, she loved the ward. And she’d give him all the control and dependence he needed were it not for the problem of Driscoll. She was just as anxious to be rid of the murderer for her and Angus’ sake as much as anything. She wanted more. She wanted a life with him. It was impossible to imagine any part of this new existence without him in it. Whether it was possible at all, she had no idea, but she at least wanted the chance. But there was no chance until…

She jumped in her seat as a horn blared from across the street. Humphreys watched her with his brow furrowed and he squinted. He must think she was losing it. She kind of was.

“What the hell you mean you don’t know? What kinda shit answer is that?” He wasn’t happy. And she almost smiled at just how Humphreys he was in his anger at her.

“I just don’t know yet what I want to do.” She wanted him to understand. She felt guilty. She felt guilty for every last thing that had happened in her life recently and abandoning her job was just one of many.

He sighed, blowing his stale cigarette breath in her face as she tried not to scowl at him for it. When he tossed money on the table and stood to leave, she did too. They walked silently from the dirty old diner with its linoleum tile floor and glaring fluorescent lights. It wasn’t a pleasant place, but what did Brit care? She didn’t have to worry about eating the roach-infested food that Humphreys appeared to enjoy immensely. The whole thing would be a bit heartwarming, if she still had a normally functioning heart … or enough warmth to feel.

They stopped out front of the building on the sidewalk, and he paused, turning to her. “Brit, I need ya back at work. No one cares that you’s been gone. Hell, girl, they understand it plenty. But it’s time now.” She looked away from him as tears stung her eyes. She wanted to go back too. Go back six months and rewrite it all … except maybe meeting Angus. She couldn’t give him up anymore than her mother had ever been able to give up drugs. He shook his head before turning his back on her and walking away. She stared after him and her old life as it walked away.

She’d parked a number of blocks away, and as she turned the opposite direction, the cold bit through her coat to her flesh. The chill hadn’t left her after transition, and she now only truly felt warm and content when Angus bumped the thermostat up for her and she was curled up in his arms. Exhaustion, however, was most definitely a thing of the past. Her body was practically hyperactive; her strength astounded her, even though she was only feeding from Angus. But she sure didn’t feel invincible. Quite the opposite. She knew she was a sitting duck when she was outside their building. She was counting on it, in fact.

But she was prepared. She kept a knife on her ankle and her gun at her hip. Would it be enough? If she was lucky. She didn’t want to die, though Angus likely wouldn’t see her obsession with killing Driscoll that way. She was just driven. She was just being Brit. It was what she did, and she couldn’t give up that obsessive drive. Not yet.

When she climbed into her car, the windows were frosted over. She started the car, turning the defroster up full force, trying to wait patiently for the windows to clear. But as a fist careened through the driver’s side window, and her neck was clutched by the hand, she tried to cry out. The hand squeezed tight across her throat, restricting her voice to nothing more than a choked, garbled sound before yanking her body from the car in one swift move through the now shattered window.

The shadowed figure that held her with nothing more than her tiptoes touching the pavement was grunting like an animal. Brit started fighting. Her arms were flailing toward the man, but she could only see him from her periphery, and she couldn’t reach far enough to fight back. She darted her hand to her hip to clasp the gun that was on her hip, but he was faster, stronger, and she was just too late. He yanked it from the holster, laughing a maniacal sound that made it clear this assault was just as much pleasure as it was driven by any particular need.

“Trying for this?” He dangled her handgun in front of her face as she tried desperately to pry his hands from her neck. It was no use, and as he finally set her down and released her neck, she scampered back to the side of her car. He was holding the gun trained on her, and instinctually her hands rose. When her eyes met Driscoll’s, he smirked. It was sick and demented, and she started to panic at nothing more than the crazed animal look in his eyes.

When he pulled the trigger and discharged the gun, she felt the pain of the bullet as it tore through her side, lodging in her abdomen at the same moment as she heard his laughter. And as she sank against the side of her car from the pain, she watched as he doubled over in laughter. She knew it wouldn’t kill her in her new form, but it sure as hell didn’t stop it from hurting more than any pain she’d ever felt. As his crazed giggling tapered off, he glared at her, and as his lips pulled up in another sneer, he discharged her sidearm two more times in rapid succession. One bullet tore through her arm, thunking against the car door behind her. The other, lodged in her shoulder, making her arm virtually useless, and she rolled to her side and tried to crawl away.

When his hand clutched and yanked her up from her hair, she squealed in pain. “You’re mother was so much more fun than you. I had planned to pump you full of a fucking pharmacy before draining you, but now … I see you’re a fucking vampire. Since you ruined that plan for me, I’m just going to have to torture you for a while before I tear that fucking head of yours off. At least your mother was loaded when I drained her.”

Hard to imagine fury was possible in her terror, but she was livid. She kicked, she shrieked, and she fought like hell, feeling the skin rip from her scalp as she twisted and pulled against his hand. He was dragging her, and she was seething in furious anger and pain, but he wasn’t done tormenting her. “Fucking strung-out bitch that one. The world should thank me for getting rid of another worthless whore. Well within my rights to destroy the dregs of the earth.”

“Keep telling yourself that, asshole.” Her voice was a grunting, garbled mess as he dragged her across the pavement. She could feel her pants tearing through, and the cold snow, dirt, and water from the pavement was against her skin as it burned her hip. “You’re killing sick people, you stupid fuck. You’re an addict as much as any one of them.”

That earned her a swift kick in the gut, but he let loose her hair, and after she rolled to her back, she scampered away from him. It was useless of course, and as his body came down on top of hers, she started hitting. Another fist to her cheek later, and he was back in control, pinning her hands to the ground as the slush from the road soaked into the entire backside of her clothing.

“And what’s wrong with my enjoying the hunt, huh? What right do you have, do any of them have, to judge me?”

She was fighting hard to free her hands, but it didn’t stop her mouth from fighting back too. “How about the fact”—her voice was lurching and grunting as she tried to spit the words out—“that you’re a fucking lunatic who thinks killing sick drug addicts is helping the world. Just a fucking excuse to get high from them.” She was spitting her words at him as she kept trying to fight. She could feel the bullet lodged in her side, but she couldn’t stop fighting him. It hurt every time a muscle moved, but she wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Apparently, even vampires had adrenaline.

Every fist she landed was met with a far stronger one to her body, and when one landed to her gut, pushing the bullet that was lodged in her gut into countless different organs and pain centers, she groaned and tried to roll to her side. She was gasping, but while she didn’t need air, she couldn’t seem to stop trying to take more in. This monster was kicking her ass, and it was pissing her off as much as it was terrifying her.

When he grabbed the hair at the top of her head again, she managed to land a solid fist to his gut, and the moment he flinched, she used her legs and hips to throw his mass over her head. Unfortunately, though it moved his weight from her, it did not lose her hair from his twisted fist, and as he was thrown, she was pulled, painfully.

She rolled quickly to her stomach, pulling her legs and feet up under her body to crouch, ready to pounce. His hand was still twisted in her hair, and when she dropped down to the ground and swept his leg out from under him, he finally released his grip, and he went sailing backward to land with a thud on his back. Her hand instinctually went to the top of her head as the pain seared through her scalp, but just as she reached up, another hand came from nowhere to grasp her arm, bend it hard down to her upper back, snapping her shoulder out of place.

The pain was blinding, and as she dropped to her knees as the shock of the agony pulsed through her body and left her feeling like she was dying, a new voice spoke. She remembered his voice from the last time she’d met him. Langford.

“That’s enough playtime, Driscoll. Get her in the car and stop fucking about with her.” Langford’s words were short and he sounded annoyed.

When Driscoll approached her again, he was clicking his tongue and shaking his head. His grin was half-lascivious and half-vindictive. He dragged her to a car sitting close by, and as Langford slid into the backseat, Driscoll pulled a pair of cuffs from his pocket, clapping one on her wrist before yanking it behind her back to cuff to her other wrist. Her shoulder was out of socket and being anchored behind her back was more pain than she thought she could handle.

She was mewling like a dying animal, and she heard herself begging them for mercy in her head, but she stayed silent. She refused to beg, and as the anguish continued to pummel her senses, she started retching and threw up blood on the pavement before he shoved her in the backseat next to Langford.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was shaking and blood was dripping from her lips as she spoke to Langford. She was leaning forward with her head down. She didn’t want to move, and she wasn’t going to give the man the satisfaction of looking at him.

“Why don’t you ask your fucking boyfriend? This is his fucking fault. Should have left well enough alone and let me deal with my own fucking family. Instead, he just had to get involved. Since you came along, all he does is your bidding. He should have offed you to shut you up; instead, he started fucking you. You want to point a finger, I suggest you point it at him.” His voice was calm as he spoke, flat, and almost … professional as though he was speaking in a boardroom to his minions. But when he slammed his fist into the side of her face, sending it into the door beside her and further straining her shoulder as her neck snapped to the side, she cried out loudly, and he chuckled as he shook his hand.