Luscious Craving (31 page)

No, you can’t. You never could
, I thought. I leaned toward her, gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Wait for me,” I said. “I won’t be too long. Just a little after midnight, and it will all be over.”

By the time the last stroke of midnight had faded, the first step in my plan would be complete. And everyone who counts will see it and get my message.

Time to stop running
, I thought.

Time to turn the tables.

Time to show my power.

Time to declare war.

Twenty-two

Las Vegas
, present
Candace

I shaved a record five minutes off the trip to
Randolph
’s house. It would have been six except when I reached the gates of the gated
community,
the idiot in the guardhouse slowed me down. It took a little persuasion before he let me through to drive along the winding road that led to the mansion belonging to Randolph and Katherine Glass.

A parking attendant waved me to an area around the side of the house where dozens of cars were parked—
Mercedes,
Jags, Land Rovers, Porsches, even a Rolls or two.
The house itself looked like something from
Architectural Digest—
multilevel and sprawling, with lots of dramatic glass walls.
I jumped out of my car and glanced at my watch—eleven-oh-five. I hurried to the front door, hoping I had time to come up with a plan.

Exactly two seconds after I rang the bell,
Randolph
’s butler opened the door. He eyed me up and down, and his mouth formed a thin, disapproving line. “May I help you?” he asked in a precise British accent.

“I need to speak to Ran—to Mr. Glass.”

“Mr. Glass is busy.”

I showed him my
Sher
ID badge. “Look, I’m from casino security, and I’ve got an important message for him.”

Somewhat reluctantly, he let me into the foyer. A magnificent Dale
Chihuly
chandelier with multicolored glass flowers sent lovely colored reflections onto the cream-colored silk walls and the white marble floors.

“Mr. Glass and his guests are on the pool deck,” the butler informed me. “If you’ll be so good as to wait here, I’ll—”

“Thank you,” I said, interrupting him. “I’m sure you’re needed here to welcome other guests. I appreciate your taking the time to help me.”

He gave me a stiff, reluctant nod. The second he was out of sight, I sprinted through the living room and out the nearest open door.

Cold struck me as if it had congealed into a stone wall. Not the air, which was mild for a December night, but my early-warning system. It was cranked down to arctic. There were definitely vampires around, which made me unhappy, but not crazy. I’d take what I could get.

Waiting for my eyes to adjust, I stepped away from the glass wall.
Randolph
’s “backyard” was predictably immense. Closest to the house was a partially covered “outdoor room” with couches and tables, upholstered chairs and a broad-cushioned platform strewn with silk throws and pillows. On the far side of the yard, I saw a raised deck with an enormous pool, a Jacuzzi, and a long arbor. There must have been close to a hundred people, many of them standing by the edge of the pool where they could look out at the lights of the Strip. I headed in that direction.

I spotted Randolph and his wife chatting with Senator
Hamlyn
. Katherine wore a simple ivory gown. No beads, no sparkles, just elegant lines accessorized with a simple strand of antique seed pearls. Moving closer for a little eavesdropping, I heard the words “Gaming Commission” and “fast track,” but couldn’t tell if Randolph or
Hamlyn
had spoken them. I strained my ears and heard
Randolph
assure the senator that the fireworks show would go off exactly as planned.

“Just a little glitch in the computer programming,” he was saying. “It’s being taken care of. I’ve got someone from the
Sher
working on it now.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” the senator replied. He sounded distracted, tense. Was he still worried he might be a target? His security was definitely in evidence, but they were pretty much it, I noticed. Just
them and me
, and I was the only one who knew to look for vampires. I knew they were here. So far, I just hadn’t been able to spot them.

And then I saw Ash. His pale hair caught the light from a bright red lantern. He was dressed in black tie like the other guests, but the style looked as if it had been invented just for him. Ash, who told me he didn’t give a damn about Randolph and the Scheherazade. Ash, who told me he knew he was in danger, but had
taken
steps to protect himself. And here he was in the middle of everything.

Frantically, my mind began to race, what I had been trying to accomplish all week: catch up with the action. They were all together now:
Randolph
, Senator
Hamlyn
, and Ash. If Ash’s presence was due to coincidence, I’d eat my high-heeled shoes.
Stay with Ash.
Watch Ash
, I told myself. I slipped behind a thick bush that bordered the arbor. If I could just get close enough….

I stuffed a fist into my mouth to stifle back a cry. The Bat Packers were here, too!
Masquerading as waiters, the perfect cover.
As I watched, Peter
Lawford
approached. Ash bent his head, and the other vampire began to whisper in his ear.
How can he let him get so close
? I thought. In the next moment, Ash nodded,
then
began to speak in his own turn. I blinked, unable to believe my eyes. The Bat Pack vampire nodded,
then
moved off. His body language told it all. He looked so deferential. He practically bowed. It was clear that he hadn’t come to threaten Ash, but to receive instructions.
Or, rather, orders.

Well, fuck me
, I thought. That was it. It had to be. Ash wasn’t a target. He was calling the shots. The Bat Packers weren’t his enemies. They were his soldiers.
That
was the missing connection.
The Bat Pack and Ash.
They were
his own
private army. Somehow he had found a way to augment their powers. Their ridiculous affectation was the perfect cover; it made everyone dismiss them as a joke. But there wasn’t anything remotely funny about them.

The question was: What did they want?

My mind kept circling back:
Senator
Hamlyn
.
The senator who had already been attacked by one vampire.

Ash was amassing power in the vampire world. The Bat Pack was proof of that. Did he want to extend that power into the human world as well? Establishing rapport with a
United States
senator would certainly give Ash power. If that’s his goal, he wouldn’t try to take out
Hamlyn
. He’d try to take him, period. It wouldn’t require much time to get into his mind, and then to erase any memories he had of what had happened. Ash did that with
Bibi
. He made her forget nearly twelve hours of her life. He used
Bibi
to get what he wanted at the time: me. And in his strange logic, he thought I’d be grateful. Now he wants something else; the ability to make humans bend to his will. I looked over at him and in that instant I saw the vampire, not the man. I saw the predator
who
attacked me in the elevator. I knew my hunch was right.

Poor Simmons wasn’t totally crazy
.
Hamlyn
was going to be controlled.
By vampires.
By Ash.

Not if I can help it
, I thought.

A thousand different possibilities began to cascade through my mind, all of which had a chance to work—if I had an entire team on my side. But I was solo.
Whatever I did, it had to be subtle and yet distracting enough for me to get the senator safely away from Ash and his cronies.

Distracting…

I smiled. Why not a con? Everyone else had been running one this week. Why shouldn’t I?

Keeping an eye on the senator, I pulled out my cell, flipped it open, and aimed my finger at the first button on my speed dial.

Before I could push it, pain exploded through my skull. Everything telescoped into blackness. Desperately, I fought to hold on to consciousness. I managed to push myself up on one hand,
then
hit the ground hard again as that hand was kicked out from under me. Then someone had my ankles, and I was being dragged into the arbor.

I kicked out, hard, and felt the blow connect. I kicked again, heard a yelp of pain, and felt the grip on my ankles let go. But when I tried to get to my feet, I got only as far as my knees. My head swam, and everything spun.
Hands on me.
Shoved them off.
Had to get to my feet.
Had to.
Then I had done it. Wobbly, but standing, I reached for the silver stakes in my hair, but every movement felt slow, as if I were moving underwater.

In the instant before I could grasp them, I was seized by the front of my jacket and shoved against the rough bark of a tree. And I saw the all-too-familiar face of my attacker.

“Remember me?” Dune
snarled,
her eyes fierce. “Remember what I promised?” Her lips drew back in a sneer that revealed two razor-sharp fangs.

I jerked my knee up hard, aiming for her groin, but Dune sidestepped the kick easily, and her grip on me tightened.

“He doesn’t love you,” I said. “He doesn’t even want you. You kill me, and you’ll lose him forever. You’re a mistake. He told me so.”

“I don’t care. Do you hear me?” Dune answered. “I don’t care. All I want is for you to die. You’re the mistake, not me. He wouldn’t even let me come here because of you. Once you’re gone, he’ll be free. He’ll come back to me then. I know he will. I can give him what he wants…. You can’t.”

She lunged for my neck, but I twisted away, which caused her to shift her balance just for a second. “You mean nothing to Ash,” I spit the words in her face trying to rattle her. “You’re just his whore.” She lunged
again,
the force of her body was like being hit by a car. She held me in a lethal hug and bared her fangs. I was pinned to the tree. She leaned in closer. I could smell her perfume—the same one I wear. Somehow the idea that she appropriated something as intimate as my scent enraged me. I managed to jerk my leg free and then stamped on her foot, driving my four-inch heel in deep. She pulled back in pain; just long enough for me to free one hand and grab for one of my silver stakes. I slashed the air wildly, hoping the silver would intimidate her and push her back. But the sight of my weapon only made her come closer. She wound her fingers into my hair, pulling my head back so fast and hard that I swear I heard my neck crack. Her fangs pressed my neck and then she went completely still, her eyes open wide. She made a strange, protesting sound. And her body simply disintegrated in front of my eyes, crumbling into a pile of dust.

Behind the spot where she had just stood, I saw Chet McGuire. His mouth was twisted in a complex expression: fury and disgust and a strange kind of satisfaction. In his hand, he held a silver pen, the one he always kept in his pocket protector.

“Are you okay?” He came carefully toward me. “She didn’t…”

“No.” I stepped out of the arbor, glanced around. The entire encounter with Dune had taken only a few moments. Except for our whispered, heated exchange, it had taken place in total silence. No one but Chet had even been aware it was going on. Senator
Hamlyn
was selecting
an
hors d’oeuvre from a silver tray.