Lover's Bite (24 page)

An ambulance pulled up to the hospital just before dawn, and the attendants rolled two sheet-draped gurneys out the back and in through the automatic doors.

“Crying shame,” one paramedic said, speaking in Spanish to his partner. “Even with their faces all busted up, you can tell they were beautiful, and so young. Sisters, it looks like. Why would they jump to their deaths like that?”

“No telling,” his partner said. “I just wish we could've done…I don't know, something.”

“You saw how broken they were,” said the first. “Hell, they were already stone cold.”

“I don't get that, either. The witnesses said they'd only seen 'em hit the ground a few minutes before we got there.”

“It's a traumatic thing to witness. People get confused. Look, let's just get 'em inside. Shift was over ten minutes ago.”

“Yeah.”

They rolled the gurneys into the building, then took an elevator down to the basement and the hospital morgue.

 

Jack managed to lie still, though keeping his body relaxed was an effort almost beyond endurance, the way he felt just then. Impatience clawed at his insides like a rat at a rotting wall, and the urge for action was impossible to ignore, so he simply fought to quiet it, to bide his time.

He felt the heat of the rising sun, and wondered whether Seth and Rhiannon had found Topaz yet, whether they'd made it back to Roxy's super-van in time. He prayed they had. If anything happened to Topaz—if he lost her now—God, he didn't think he could bear it. And then it occurred to him that this must have been exactly how she'd felt when he'd left her. She'd loved him. God, she'd loved him like no one else in his entire life had ever loved him or ever would. She'd poured her heart and soul out to him, and he'd repaid her by taking all she had to offer and walking away. She must have been feeling just the way he was right now. Facing the loss of the one you loved, certain you could never bear it.

How could he have hurt her that way? A woman who deserved it less than any he'd ever known?

Even as the heat from the rising sun made his situation nearly unbearable, making him feel as if he were being baked from the outside, he heard footsteps, sensed movement, heard an odd creaking sound. And then voices, one of which he recognized as belonging to that bastard Magnarelli.

“No dawdling. We just take him and go.”

“How can we be sure it's Rivera in there?” a second agent asked. One of the two others Jack sensed out there. He had rarely, if ever, heard either of them utter a word. “How do we know they didn't pull the same—”

“It doesn't matter. If it's him, we're golden. If it's not, we still have all the leverage we need. For now, we just do what we came here to do.” There was a pause, then, “There it is.”

Seconds later, he felt himself being lifted, one man holding either end of the body bag. And a little while later he was dropped onto a hard surface. He landed with a thud and bit his lip to keep from grunting at the impact.

“I don't know why we couldn't have rented a couple of ATVs or something. It's a mile back to the road, and that's hell in this heat.” That was the third man entering the conversation.

“Because the noise would make it too easy for someone to notice us, maybe get curious, wonder what we're up to,” Magnarelli said, his tone suggesting that his underling must be some kind of moron to even suggest what he had. “Do you really want to explain to a truckload of
Federales
why three CIA agents are dragging a body out of the Mexican desert, pal?”

Number three sighed. “I guess you're right.”

“Damn straight, I'm right. We want to get him back across the border without a fuss, not cause an international incident.”

“It's hotter than hell.” That was underling number one again.

“It's the desert. It's
supposed
to be hot. And it's only a mile. So quit your whining and pull your weight.”

Jack tried to relax as he was trundled across the desert on some sort of cart with two creaking wheels at the rear, near his head. The three men took turns pulling him along, and he bumped and bounced over the terrain. He almost smiled as he thought of how difficult it must be for the mortals to drag the cart through sand. And he hoped it was as hot and uncomfortable for them as it was for him, because he was utterly roasting and miserable despite Roxy's ice packs. With everything in him, he wanted to tear through the leather bag and attack the trio. But even a small opening in his prison would spell his death. And then he would never know for sure what had become of Topaz. Suddenly something one of the underling agents had said had every alarm bell in Jack's head going off, full volume.
How do we know they didn't pull the same…

Pull the same what? Trick? Stunt? What the hell had the man meant?

He thought back and tried to reconstruct the conversation. The younger agent had been wondering if Reaper were really the one in the bag. Wondering if the vampires had pulled the same…something. And that had Jack worried as hell. Did these bastards still have Topaz and her mother in their brutal hands? Had they played some kind of trick by putting someone or something else in the body bags that were supposed to hold them? And would he, working on his own, be strong enough to save them?

Eventually his ride through the desert ended. He felt the ground beneath him change to something smooth. Then he heard a vehicle's doors opening, and he was unceremoniously lifted and dumped again. The sound of the trunk slamming closed was unmistakable.

“Let's crank the AC,” one of the lesser agents said, and then the car doors closed and he was once again in motion.

 

“That has to be them,” Roxy said, pulling the van to a stop. “It's a black Lincoln.”

“That's them. Make sure they can't see you, Roxy,” Reaper instructed.

“I'm not an idiot, you know.” She waited, no motion, no words. Then, “Yes, there they are. They have Jack. They're putting him into the trunk.
Damn!
”

“What?” Reaper demanded.

“They tossed him in there like a bag of feed. That
had
to hurt.”

“Jack's tough. He can take it.”

“I'd hate to be those two when he comes out of that bag, though,” Roxy said. “I think they just managed to piss him off even more than they already had, if that's even possible.” She paused, then went on. “You should speak to him, Reaper. Tell him we're following.”

“No,” he replied instantly. “He'd want to know about Topaz, and I'd have a hard time lying to him about that. He'd sense it. And if he finds out, he won't wait to tear out of that bag.”

“With that drug in his system, he'd tear them to bits,” Rhiannon promised.

Roxy said, “No. He'd get himself killed trying, though.” Then she started to drive, keeping a safe distance.

They followed the agents for better than an hour. Then the car stopped at a cantina, and the three cold-hearted operatives went inside for what must have been a hearty brunch, given the time it took them to come out again. The sun was at its zenith by the time they exited, rubbing their bellies and grunting about how good the food had been. One of them lit a cigarette and went to lean on the car as he smoked it, only to jerk his hand away from the scorching-hot metal.

Roxy reported everything to Reaper and Rhiannon as she observed it from a safe distance.

“Jack must be baking alive in that trunk,” Rhiannon said. “Maybe this wasn't such a great plan after all, Reaper. We'll be lucky if he survives this much time in such extreme heat. I have no idea what effect that would have on one of our kind.”

“He'll survive it.” Reaper sounded more confident than he felt. The truth was, he was worried about Jack. He'd started out hating and mistrusting the cocky young con artist, but he'd seen something in Jack Heart as all this unfolded. He'd seen courage, raw and reckless, but real courage all the same, and a deep feeling for Topaz that didn't even bear doubting. It was real.
He
was real. And decent, too, deep down, Reaper sensed. Vixen had been right about that, and he probably should have trusted her instincts. Jack was decent. He might not even know it himself, but he was.

“Okay, they're moving again,” Roxy said.

“Keep following, Roxy,” Reaper said.

And Rhiannon added, “Just don't let them see this monstrosity of a van. It's too loud not to be remembered, and if they see it a second time, they'll know we're tailing them.”

“Shirley is not a monstrosity. In fact, her special features have kept you and the rest of the gang from being barbecued today. You should be on your knees thanking her.”

“We'll all be on our knees thanking
you
if this works,” Reaper said quickly, soothing her ruffled feathers.

“Well, that's an acceptable alternative,” she said, sounding placated.

The van rolled into motion again, and silence reigned as Roxy negotiated the narrow, winding roads.

The agents made several more stops. Once for gas and cold drinks. Once for a bathroom break. That time they lingered outside the facility, with Magnarelli talking on his cell phone for a while. And then they got back into the Lincoln and drove some more.

“Have to stop here,” Roxy said at length.

“Why?”

“They've turned into a gated drive. It winds up to a freaking
hacienda
like you've never seen. It's huge, Raphael. Gorgeous, too. Full-length veranda with columns, wide flagstone steps, tropical plants everywhere you look, giant windows everywhere. Hell, there's even a fountain.”

“Someone important must live there,” Ilyana said. She'd been oddly silent for most of the trip, so it startled Reaper to hear her quiet, serious tones. He'd nearly forgotten her presence. “Someone influential.”

“You're right. It'll be either a government official or a drug lord,” Reaper said. “Or both. The place will be well guarded. Do you see anyone standing around outside?”

“No,” Roxy said. “But there's the gate. They stopped by it for a sec, and then it swung open. Someone must be operating it from somewhere.”

“Or there's a code and they knew it.” Reaper wished to God he could look around for himself. “Are there any other vehicles in sight?”

“No,” Roxy said.

“There are outbuildings, though,” Ilyana put in. “One of them has to be a garage.”

Rhiannon whispered, “I sense only three mortals nearby, plus Jack.” She frowned. “I don't pick up any sense of other vampires. Topaz and her mother aren't here.”

Reaper frowned, not wanting to believe that. “Maybe the place is shielded. And they wouldn't be putting out much of an essence by day, Rhiannon. It could be that you just can't pick up on them while they're—”

She sent him a look so quelling that he stopped in midsentence. “Do you
know
how old I am? How powerful?”

“Of course I do, but—”

“I am Rhiannon, daughter of Pharaoh, princess of Egypt.”

“I know, but—”

“Goddess incarnate, priestess of Isis, practitioner of the ancient arts.”

“I
know,
Rhiannon.”

“Desired by men, envied by women, both worshipped and feared by all who encounter me.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“I am more than three thousand years old, Reaper. I am the third most powerful vampire in existence, created by Dracula himself. He and the great Gilgamesh, the first of us all, Damian Namtar, are the only two older, or with blood more powerful than mine. Do not doubt my ability to detect a pair of relative fledglings, Reaper. Not awake or asleep. Not alive or dead. Not—”

“You didn't detect that they weren't in those body bags, though, did you, Princess?”

Rhiannon bit her lip. “I was too busy trying to keep from being toasted, thanks to your asinine plan! Had I bothered to sense for them, I would have known. And if, after all I've done for you, you would still doubt me—”

He held up a hand. “I would never doubt you. I trust you, Rhiannon. I just…I don't
want
you to be right this time. Because if Topaz and Mirabella weren't in those body bags, and they aren't in this
hacienda,
then—then, Jesus, where the hell
are
they?”

“We're not going to find out until after dark,” Roxy said. “We can't get to that place for a closer look until then.”

“We have to,” Reaper said.

He heard Roxy's frustrated sigh, but it was Ilyana who picked up the argument. “We can't drive up. We'd be seen. And you two can't walk up before sunset without being roasted. Roxy and I could, but what chance would we have against three well-trained, well-armed agents? There are video cameras mounted all over the place. I can count five of them just from here.”