Lover's Bite (15 page)

Jack opened the red door and stepped into the large living-dining area, and looked around. He didn't see anyone, but he could feel them. Ilyana, the newcomer to the group, was mortal. One of the Chosen. Her energy was impatient, frustrated, a little bit afraid. She was nervous around vampires. She had every reason to be, having served as Gregor's bedtime snack for God only knew how long. She was presently in one of the rooms off to the right of this one. A kitchen, he thought.

Briar's energy, on the other hand, didn't even feel like her. It was dull, and had a sickly element to it. It was contained, reserved, quiet, withdrawn. None of it was Briar. At least, not the Briar he remembered.

He followed his sense of her energy all the same, up the stairs to the second floor and along a hall with four doors, stopping at the third. The door wasn't locked, and he didn't bother to knock. He had let her feel his approach, so she knew he was coming.

He opened the door and let his gaze sweep over the small bedroom. She sat on the bed, knees drawn to her chest, eyes on him. “What do
you
want?”

Jack lifted his brows and went inside, leaving the door open. “Nice to see you, too, Briar. I've been fine, thanks. How about you?”

She didn't react, aside from the slight flaring of her nostrils as she exhaled.

“I can see you haven't been fine at all,” he said.

“What is there to be fine about?”

He shrugged, crossing the room. “I don't know. We're alive. Eternally strong and young and powerful.”

She turned her head slightly toward the window, and he followed her gaze to the small group gathered on the lawn. “What good is it? This world isn't worth living in. There's nothing good about it.”

“Never knew you were so into goodness.”

She shot him a look. “What good is strength if you aren't allowed to prey on the weak? What good is eternal life, when it's only filled with people who'd just as happily kill you as look at you?”

He sighed. “You trusted the wrong guy, Briar.” And it occurred to him that he could say the same words to Topaz, and they would be just as true. “He turned on you. But it was Gregor, for God's sake. What did you expect? He's evil.”

“So am I. So are you.”

“I'm not evil. Selfish, maybe, but not evil. And I don't think you are, either.”

“No? What am I, then?”

He shrugged, opened his senses to hers, then lowered his head. “You're in pain. And it's intense. Excruciating. You need to let it go, Briar, or you're not going to last. No one can hold up under that kind of anguish.”

“And how do you suggest I let go?”

“I don't know. Stop focusing on it. Find something else, something you can get a little pleasure out of, a little joy. Focus on that, and the pain will start to die. It can't live if you aren't feeding it. It'll starve without your attention.”

“So you've turned from a heartless con man into some kind of philosopher now?”

“Not really. It's just the best suggestion I can come up with on short notice.”

“Yeah, well, it's a lousy one.”

“Why?”

“Because if there were anything in this world capable of giving me joy or pleasure, I would have at least caught a glimpse of it by now.”

He sent a meaningful look toward the window. “I think maybe you have. You're just too busy wallowing in misery to let yourself see it.”

“I should get off this bed and hit you.”

“But you can't even work up the enthusiasm to do that, can you, Briar? And that should tell you something.”

“What, pray tell? What gem of wisdom is my lack of enthusiasm supposed to impart?”

He met her eyes, saw the pain in them, felt it. “Only that what you've been doing up to now isn't working for you. So you might as well try something else. What have you got to lose?”

“Self-respect. Dignity. Pride. My mind…Should I go on?”

He shook his head. “Why are you still with Reaper? I'd have expected you to run away again by now. Particularly if you're so miserable.”

She lowered her head, focused on her hands where they were clasped around her knees. “Sooner or later, he's going to get back on Gregor's trail,” she said. “Reaper's good. I don't have any doubt that he'll find him. And when he does, I intend to be there.”

Jack sensed the feelings she still had for that sadist and rolled his eyes. “I'm the last person who should be saying this, but how stupid would you have to be to go back to that idiot after what he did to you?”

“You're right. You're the last person to be saying it. Your precious Topaz did the same thing, didn't she?”

“Not by a long shot. And all I did was take her money. Gregor tortured you, Briar.”

“If you don't think what you did to Topaz was torture, you'd better think again,” she said. “Women like her fall hard when they fall for a man. Thank God I never have and never will.”

“Not even for Gregor?”

She snapped him with a look, like snapping someone with a rubber band. “It's not what you think. It was never…that way between Gregor and me.”

“Not because he didn't want it to be.”

She was quiet.

“And yet you want to get back with him,” he said with a slow shake of his head as he lowered it.

“No. I want to get back
at
him. You're right, he tortured me. I owe him.”

Jack snapped his head up, met her eyes, saw a dull glow of anger, of hatred, simmering in their almost black depths. He felt his lips lift at the corners. “Now that's the Briar I know and…know.”

She held his gaze for a moment, then sighed and lowered her eyes.

“What about the others? Reaper and his pups?”

“What
about
them?” she asked.

“How do you feel about them?” he asked.

“I don't like them. I don't like
him.
I don't want to be friends, not with any of them. Not with you, either, for that matter. I never trusted anyone in my life, until Gregor. He taught me what a mistake that was. It's not one I'll ever make again.”

He nodded slowly. “Not everyone is like him, you know.”

“Yes,” she said. “They are. And the ones who pretend otherwise are hypocrites.”

Sighing, Jack got up from the bed.

“Why did you come in here, anyway?”

He shrugged. “Of all of them, we're the most alike. I just wanted to see how you were doing, that's all.”

She frowned, as if puzzled. “What's happened to you, Jack? Have you gone soft?”

He shook his head, even as the question echoed in his mind and he found himself wondering about the answer. “Never happen.”

“Are you working a con, then?”

“I was, but—” He broke off. “Doesn't matter. I'm not at the moment.”

“Then what are you doing here? With them?”

He walked to the window and stared down at them, where they were still deep in conversation below. “I guess I'm trying to make up for some of the harm I've done in the past. Not sure it can be done. But I'm trying.”

“You
have
gone soft. In the head, as well as everywhere else.”

“Maybe I have.”

 

As the group broke apart, Topaz saw Jack leave Cabin Two and head toward Three, with the key she'd given him in hand. Her eyes followed him, in spite of herself.

“We can split things up differently, you know,” Seth said. “If you're not comfortable having him in your cabin.”

She met his eyes. “No, it's fine.”

Seth probed, and she guarded. That should have told him to mind his own business, but he never had been the sharpest tool in the box, she thought with an exasperated sigh when he spoke his question aloud.

“You're not falling for that jerk again, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Good, 'cuz I don't trust him as far as I can throw him, Tope. I never have, and I trust my gut on this.”

Vixen put a hand on Seth's shoulder. “He's not all bad,” she said.

“Maybe not. But he's not all good, either,” Seth said. “Better to err on the side of caution where he's concerned.”

“Hey, you don't have to convince me,” Topaz told him. “I know better than anybody.”

Seth nodded. Then he reached out and hugged her, and she was so surprised that she stiffened at first, then sighed and hugged him back. “He gives you any crap, you let me know, okay? I'll knock him into next week.”

“My hero,” she told him, loading a heavy amount of sarcasm into the phrase.

He grinned, and then he and Vixen turned and headed for the beach, arm in arm. Roxy came over and gave her a hug, too. “If you want advice about men and relationships, sweetie, you come to me. Don't waste your time listening to that young pup, Seth. He only wound up with Vixen by the skin of his teeth, through dumb luck and my help.”

Topaz nodded, and then Roxy left her and headed for her cabin. Leaving Topaz alone with Reaper.

He studied her face for a long moment, his expression pensive.

She was almost afraid to ask the question, but she forced herself. “Did the CIA show up in Philly?”

“Not yet.”

Relief nearly melted her muscles. She closed her eyes and felt it washing through her like a balm.

“That doesn't mean they won't, nor does it mean he's innocent of feeding them information prior to this.”

She gnawed her lip. “Why are you so sure it was him?”

“I'm not,” Reaper admitted. “I don't have a shred of evidence, let's be clear on that. I just think…I think you should be very, very careful where he's concerned.”

She lowered her head. “Thank you. I will be.”

He nodded. No hugs, not from him. He wasn't comfortable with casual physical contact. She'd learned that about him early on in their time together. “Let me know if you need anything, all right?”

“Yeah.” She looked at the sky. “Thanks for coming, Reaper. It means a lot to me.”

“That was Jack's doing,” he said. “He called, told me you needed people you could trust around you for this.” Sighing heavily, he shook his head. “I hope to God I'm wrong about him, Topaz.”

He turned and walked back into the cabin as she whispered, “So do I.”

A
n hour before dawn, Jack's cell phone rang.

“Where are you?”

The voice belonged to Frank Magnarelli, the last person he'd wanted to hear from tonight. He glanced around, sensed the area. Topaz was outside with the others. “I've left the state. Game over.”

“The game is over when we say it's over, Jack. And since we don't have Rivera yet, it's not over.”

“You've got nothing left that I need.”

“No?”

“No, and you didn't give me the information you had to begin with.”

“We gave you—”

“Let's talk about what you
didn't
give me, shall we? You didn't tell me about my mother. You didn't tell me what you knew about Topaz's mother, either.”

There was silence for a long moment. Then, “So you know.”

“I know. So does she.”

“I'll contact you tomorrow night.”

“Don't bother. This cell phone number will be out of commission by then.”

“I wouldn't do that if I were you, Jack. We know where you are.”

He blinked, stunned.

“Sorry, pal. It just doesn't take as long to triangulate a signal as it used to. Tomorrow night, Jack. I guarantee you, we'll have something you want
very badly
by then.”

The line went dead, and Jack sat there, feeling, for the first time, afraid of what those bastards at the CIA might be up to. He'd used them, played them, fed them tidbits that would do them no real good, so he could get information on Topaz's mother. But they knew, they'd known all along, that Mirabella DuFrane wasn't really dead. Magnarelli hadn't exactly confirmed it on the phone, but Jack sensed it to his bones. Which meant they'd been playing
him,
using
him,
feeding
him
tidbits that would do him no real good.

They wanted Reaper. And they would do anything to get him. Reaper had been right about that.

And now Jack was between a rock and a hard place. He couldn't warn the others without admitting the game he'd been playing. Doing that would lose him any hope of regaining Topaz's trust for good. No, he had to play this out, see it through to the end.

No one would get hurt. He would make sure of that. He just had to out-con the biggest con artists in the business: the federal government.

 

By the time they'd unloaded their things and chosen bedrooms—separate bedrooms, at Topaz's insistence—the day sleep was already tugging her under. And she was glad of it. She didn't know how she felt about Jack anymore. Reaper's suspicions made sense, and yet she couldn't quite convince herself that Jack was the one feeding information to the CIA. She couldn't. And it was stupid of her, because she, of all people, knew how duplicitous he could be.

That alone told her that her heart was in dangerous waters. Again.

Maybe it always would be, where Jack was concerned. She ached for him, cried over him, missed him even when he was only in the next room, and yet she expected him to hurt her again if she gave him even half a chance. And, she realized, she was giving him way more than that. Everything she had once felt for him had come rushing back during this time with him, and it was stronger than ever.

She felt doomed.

When the sun set again and she came awake, Jack was already out of bed and taking up space in the bungalow's only bathroom, which irritated her. Feeling irritated with him was a relief, though. Far better than wanting him and aching for him and expecting him to break her heart all over again at any moment.

She pounded on the door when she heard the shower running. “Hey! Since when do you get first dibs on the shower? You know I need my time in the bathroom first thing in the evening.”

He didn't answer, though she knew perfectly well he could hear her. The door was unlocked, so she went in. He was safely on the other side of the shower curtain, after all. “Jack, come on. I know you heard me. How much longer are you going to be, anyway?”

He opened the curtain and stood there in the spray, naked and gorgeous, water running in rivulets, clinging in droplets, making his skin gleam and her blood heat. She couldn't look away, no matter how hard she tried. God, she'd never seen a man more beautiful or a body more perfect. And she'd never wanted anyone the way she wanted him.

“You're welcome to join me.”

Forcibly, and with no small effort, she lifted her gaze to his, though she hadn't had nearly enough of a lingering look at the rest of him. She shook her head.

He shrugged and yanked the curtain closed again. “Your loss. I have to go out for a little while, and I thought I'd get it over with early.”

“Go out where?” Her suspicions were already aroused.

“Just going to do a little reconnaissance.”

“Uh-huh. And you're taking one of the gang with you?”

“Wasn't planning on it.”

“Why not?”

The water stopped abruptly, and he yanked the curtain aside again. She couldn't keep her eyes away, so she handed him a towel and didn't bother to try.

“Because they're not my gang,” he said. “But I'm more than willing to take you along. You want to go with me?”

She thought about it. If he were offering to take her along, then he must not have anything to hide. Unless, of course, he was counting on her saying no. Jack was too smart not to have thought of that angle.

God, what kind of a relationship could she ever hope to have with a man she trusted so little?

That wasn't the problem, though, and she knew it. If he loved her, she could and would trust him to the moon and back. But he didn't. Never had. Wouldn't even say it. That was one lie even Jack couldn't bring himself to tell.

“I think I'll sit this one out,” she said at last. And she had her reasons, even though she felt as guilty as hell for them.

“Okay. I'll fill you in if I learn anything. Shouldn't be more than an hour.” He finished rubbing himself down, anchored the towel around his lean hips and headed for the door. “Shower's all yours.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay? Maybe, scrub your back or, uh…something.”

“I think I'll manage without you, thanks.”

He sent her a wink and left the room.

Topaz undressed and got into the shower as soon as he closed the door behind him, rushing through her morning rituals, because there was something she needed to do before he returned.

As soon as she was dressed, she checked the bungalow to make sure he was gone. He wasn't around, and the others seemed to be leaving her to herself for the moment. So she went into Jack's room and began a methodical search through his belongings.

And what she found there was like a red-hot blade sliding cleanly into her heart.

The money—
her
money—was in the bottom of his duffel bag, wrapped in plastic. It was sorted into neatly banded bundles of crisp, cold cash. Her cash. She had no doubt of that. She even counted it, and it was exactly 250,000 dollars. The exact amount he'd taken from her, minus the half he'd returned. This was the other half, the half he'd claimed he didn't have and promised to get for her.

He'd been lying to her. Again. She wasn't even surprised.

But her heart broke all over again, just the same. She hadn't expected anything different from Jack. She would have been a fool if she had. But, God, how she'd let herself hope.

 

“Since when does it take three of you to talk to me?” Jack asked. Magnarelli was familiar to him, of course, but the other two were strangers. “Doesn't matter. I have nothing for you.”

The three men, wearing nearly identical gray suits and sunglasses, stood around him in what he imagined was supposed to be a menacing manner. And it might have been, had he been human. But he wasn't. He was stronger, faster and smarter. And he would sense an attack coming before they could go from making the decision to moving on it.

Even if he couldn't read their thoughts—the agency had apparently trained these special agents to block them—he would still sense danger. At least, he was fairly certain he would.

“Of course you do,” Magnarelli said. “You're going to tell us where Rivera is.”

“If I knew, I might. Providing you could come up with something for me in return. But since you can't, and since I have no clue where the Grim One is keeping himself these days, I'm afraid we're at an impasse.”

“You
are
going to help us, Jack.”

Jack met Magnarelli's steel-gray eyes, which he could see clearly behind the dark glasses. “Look, I've been keeping you informed as to his whereabouts for more than a week now. It's not my fault you let him slip away yet again.”

“We think maybe it is. We think you've been doling out your information to us too late to do us any good. And we think it's been deliberate.”

“Look, I can't help you anymore. He suspects me already. He tried to trick me into sending you to Philly just to confirm it. Fortunately, I saw through the ruse. Hell, if the whole CIA can't keep track of one vampire hit man, how the hell do you expect
me
to?”

“You know where he is,” Magnarelli said, while his two colleagues stood silently, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped in front of their dicks. “And you're going to tell us. When you do, we'll tell you where to find Mirabella DuFrane for your girlfriend.”

Jack tilted his head to one side. “Hell, even if I knew where he was, that wouldn't be enough. You guys have been holding out on me. To even
tempt
me to give you that kind of information, I'd need a hell of a lot more.”

“Such as?”

Jack pretended to mull on it a bit. “I'd still need Mirabella's location, of course. And I'd also need the recipe you all used to create Gregor's goon squad. The drones, I believe he called them.” What a mild word, he thought, for that army of killers.

“Not in a million—”

“And,” Jack went on, not even waiting for the agent to finish his refusal, “the second of Rivera's trigger words. I already know the first one, the one that sends him into a mindless killing rage. For my own protection, I'd like to have the one that snaps him out of it.”

“If you're going to turn him over to us, you won't need it.”

“Tell you where he is, you mean. I'm not volunteering to gift wrap and deliver him for you. And to reiterate, I said I
might
tell you,
if
I knew. Which I don't.”

Magnarelli shook his head slowly, then removed his sunglasses and met Jack's eyes. “For that kind of compensation, you'll have to deliver him into our hands. Drug him, bind him and deliver him. Right here. Tomorrow night.”

“Right,” Jack said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “You're asking for the impossible.”

“Yes, but we're offering a bonus. Something better and more valuable to you than any of the stuff you've demanded. Something you didn't even think to ask for.”

Jack frowned, and his senses went on alert. “What would that be, Magnarelli?”

“When we tell you where to find Mirabella DuFrane, she won't be dead.”

Jack went stock-still and probed the agent's mind. But he found nothing there but an impenetrable brick wall. “In other words, you're threatening to kill her unless I do as you ask.”

“We're not asking you, Jack. We're telling you. Bring us Rivera, or the woman dies.”

Jack studied the other two men. They weren't quite as adept at shielding their thoughts as Magnarelli was, but it didn't matter, because they didn't know anything.

Jack contemplated his reply for a long moment, and finally settled on what it would be. “I think you're bluffing.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I do. If you had Mirabella DuFrane, you'd have brought her here, shown her to me as proof. It would be a far better way to leverage me into doing what you want.”

“You're very good, Jack. You're right, we don't have physical custody of the woman at the moment. But it doesn't matter if she's with us or not. We know where she is. We have her under surveillance, and we have an operation in place and ready to launch. We can grab her at any time.”

“I don't think so,” Jack said, pushing his slight advantage. “I think that if you knew where she was and had the ability to do so, you'd have grabbed her already.”

“Is that what you think?”

Jack nodded. “That's what I think.”

“Are you willing to bet her life on that, Jack?”

Jack wished he could read the man. But he couldn't. Still, he knew better than to show any sign of weakness or uncertainty. This bastard would pounce on it if he did.