Vampire, Interrupted (10 page)

Her irritable glance slid over Tiny and the five immortals with displeasure.

Since none of them were familiar with London, they hadn’t known where to go to find the immortal night club they knew must be somewhere in the city. They’d been forced to resort to the mortal clubs. After half an hour and one club, Marguerite was ready to call it a night.

Her eyes moved over the men again, a little unhappy sigh sliding from her lips. Marguerite hadn’t, at first, been uncomfortable or upset to find herself a lone female with six good-looking men. No, she’d thought it would be fun. Ha! Had she got that wrong. Truly, she’d never met such a group of stick-in-the-muds in her life. The music was too loud to allow talking, which would have been fine but when Marguerite had announced a desire to dance and headed out on the dance floor, she’d found herself enclosed in a circle as the men surrounded her. Even that wouldn’t have bothered her had they danced, but they hadn’t. Instead they’d stood facing into the circle, arms crossed as they watched
her
dance…including Tiny. They had been a living breathing wall of men watching her with grim determination.

Marguerite had lasted perhaps two minutes on the dance floor before self-consciousness had made her give up and head back to the table with exasperation. Since then she’d simply sat tapping her foot restlessly to the music, wishing she could join the dancers, but knowing it would just be a repeat of the protective circle scenario.

Marguerite gave another unhappy little sigh, and then glanced to Julius when he touched her arm. She watched his lips move, but even with an immortal’s extra-sensitive hearing, she couldn’t hear his words over the music blaring at them.

Seeming to realize the problem, Julius made a gesture with his hand, and then pointed them toward the door. Apparently he had noticed her boredom and was asking if she wanted to leave, she realized with relief and nodded at once. When she and Julius stood, the other
men immediately followed suit and moved to form a circle around them as they moved toward the exit.

With the wall of men around her, the only way Marguerite knew they’d left the club was because the music was abruptly cut off and the temperature had risen from the cooler air-conditioned interior of the club to the warmer evening air. Julius urged them all several feet to the side of the entrance before coming to a halt. Marguerite immediately turned to tell him she thought they may as well give up on the idea of a relaxing night out and return to the hotel, but paused when he pulled out his cell phone and began to push buttons.

Closing her mouth, she moved a few feet away to give him privacy for the call, scowling at the others when the five of them also left Julius behind and moved with her, retaining their protective circle.

They were worse than her sons, Marguerite decided and turned to Julius with relief when he’d finished his call and rejoined them.

He moved through the circle of men to her side to announce, “I called Vita, and she told me where the immortal night club is.”

“Vita is our aunt,” Dante informed her.

“She’s always spent a lot of time in England,” Tommaso added. “If anyone would know, she’s the one.”

Marguerite nodded, recalling the name of the woman running the family business while Julius and Marcus were away. Her eyes followed Julius as he slipped away to approach a line of taxis parked a bit up the road as she murmured, “I’m surprised you haven’t been here before and didn’t know yourselves.”

Dante shrugged. “We’ve never had any call to come to England until now.”

“And we’d hardly come for pleasure. It’s supposed to rain a lot here,” Thomas added with a shudder.

“Julius didn’t encourage them to visit England,” Marcus explained.

“Hmm.” Christian nodded. “I never really considered his hatred of the country as important until I found out it was where I was born.”

They were all silent for a moment, then Dante asked curiously, “You were born and raised here, weren’t you, Marguerite? I’m surprised you don’t know where one is.”

Marguerite smiled faintly. “We moved out several centuries ago and never returned. Jean Claude didn’t much like England either. He thought it was too damp, too gray, and too boring.” She shrugged. “As far as I know they didn’t have immortal night clubs back then. Although my niece and her friend Mirabeau have mentioned an immortal night club in London, but as I didn’t expect to have the time to go to one, I didn’t ask for the address.”

A sharp whistle made them glance along the sidewalk to see Julius holding open the door of a taxi and waving them over.

“I hired these first two taxis,” Julius announced as they approached. “We’ll split up, three in one, four in the other. Marguerite you’re with me in this one. The rest of you pick your ride.”

Marguerite managed not to scowl at the command. After all, Christian had already warned her that his father intended to stay close to her so long as she was
on this case and under threat. She should really be grateful he was looking out for her, she supposed, but found that after seven hundred years of Jean Claude’s less than dazzling attention, it felt uncomfortable to be looked after. Still, she managed to force a thank-you as Julius handed her into the cab. She settled on the bench seat and soon found Julius joining her. Tiny and Christian took the fold-down seats, leaving Marcus to join the twins in the second taxi.

The moment the taxi pulled out onto the road, Marguerite turned her head to peer out the window. However, rather than watch the passing buildings and traffic as she’d intended, she found herself instead fascinated by watching the reflection in the glass of the men in the cab. Christian was making odd faces and gestures at his father that she thought were about her, though she couldn’t fathom what he was trying to tell him. Apparently, Julius couldn’t tell either, he was staring at the younger man with a blank expression. Tiny was watching the whole thing with an obvious curiosity the two immortals didn’t notice.

Marguerite was distracted from the pantomime when the taxi pulled to the curb and stopped. Glancing around, she saw that they were in front of what appeared to be a private residence. There were no signs to advertise the address as anything other than just another townhouse squeezed between two others.

Marguerite stepped out of the taxi to find the men once again crowding around her and sighed with exasperation. “I should be safe enough here.”

“It was an immortal who attacked you, Marguerite,” Julius pointed out. “If anything, we will have to be more vigilant here, and then careful that we are
not followed on the way back. You were probably safer at the mortal club.”

She glanced at him curiously. “Then why did you bring us here?”

“Because you were not having a good time,” he said simply and urged her toward the entrance ahead of them.

Marguerite moved forward under his urging, her mind distracted with what he’d said. Despite the fact that the men would have to be more vigilant and remain on the alert, he’d brought her here because she hadn’t been having a good time and he—presumably—thought she might enjoy herself more here. Her mind was having trouble accepting the claim, her thoughts running around in confusion looking for the motive behind the seeming kindness. Her husband, Jean Claude had never done anything nice without a motive behind it, or something he wished to gain from it.

They reached the door and it was promptly opened by a man even taller than any of the ones accompanying her. It wasn’t his height or size that caught and held her attention, however, but the twelve-inch green Mohawk he sported on his head and the dozens of piercings in his face. The man was a living porcupine of silver and green.

“This is a private club,” he growled.

Marguerite could feel Julius bristling beside her, but before he could say anything, a soft chuckle slid from her lips. When the Mohawk man turned his scowl on her, she grinned and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve just realized you must be G.G. Mirabeau was telling me about you.”

His scowl immediately disappeared, rolled under by
the waves of a wide smile. “You know Mirabeau?”

“She’s a dear friend to my daughter, and niece and nephew,” Marguerite said with a nod.

His eyes narrowed on her speculatively, and then he asked, “Marguerite?”

She nodded, eyes widening when he suddenly let loose a loud roar and grabbed her up in a bear hug that lifted her off the ground.

“Welcome!” he roared jovially as he set her back on the ground. He then drew her arm through his in an almost courtly fashion and turned toward the door. “Mirabeau and Jeanne Louise were here just a couple weeks ago.”

“Yes, I know. That’s how you came up in topic. The girls were at my home to have lunch with me and my daughter and began talking about the trip. Jeanne Louise didn’t want to bother including England in the excursion, but Mirabeau was insisting she had to bring her to meet you,” she explained, glancing over her shoulder to see that the men were hard on her heels with varying expressions ranging from Tiny’s amusement to Julius’s disgruntled look.

“I’m worth the trip,” G.G. announced, drawing her gaze back around as he led her up a long hall. “Jeanne Louise had a good time here.”

“I’m sure she did.” Marguerite patted his tattooed arm.

“And you will have a good time too,” G.G. assured her. “I will be at the door if you need me, but whatever it is you want is yours. You just tell them G.G. says so.”

“That is sweet, thank you, G.G.,” she said, touched at his kindness.

The man shook his head. “Mirabeau and Jeanne Louise think the world of you, and so, then, do I.”

Marguerite squeezed his arm gently, and then settled in the seat he stopped before when he waved her to it.

“I’ll send a girl over to get your orders. The first round is on me,” he announced and moved away as the men quickly filled up the seats around her.

“G.G.?” Christian asked as soon as the man was out of hearing.

“Short for Green Giant because of his green Mohawk,” she explained with a grin.

“It is hard to believe they would hire someone who looked like that to work here,” Dante said, shaking his head with amazement as he peered around the quiet room where G.G. had settled them. Marguerite glanced around now too, taking in the soothing atmosphere of the room they were in. There was a Victorian fireplace along one wall, large comfy leather chairs and sofas arranged in groupings, as well as hardwood floors with various throw rugs strewn around.

“From what Mirabeau said, there are other, less soothing rooms here,” she informed them as she turned back to face the others, and then added, “and he doesn’t work here, he owns it.”

“What?” Julius asked with shock. “A mortal owning and running an immortal night club?”

“That guy is mortal?” Tiny asked with surprise.

Tommaso nodded. “The tattoos and piercings should have tipped you off. Our bodies will not accept either.

“Oh right, I suppose the nanos would see them as foreign bodies or something and shed them.”

“How did a mortal come to own an immortal night
club?” Julius asked, still having trouble accepting it.

“More importantly, why the heck is he guarding the door?” Tiny asked dryly, and then pointed out, “If he tries to turn away the wrong immortal, they might turn him into cream cheese or at least lunch.”

“According to Mirabeau he has back-up if he needs it,” Marguerite told them, and then she explained what she knew. “Apparently his mother was mortal and he is from a mortal marriage, but when that dissolved she found she was a lifemate to an immortal. She wanted G.G. to be turned, but he refused, so his new stepfather financed this club for him in the hopes that if he was constantly surrounded by immortal women day in and day out, he would meet an immortal who would be his true lifemate and change his mind, thus making his wife happy.”

“Hmm.” Julius sat back and then glanced at Christian. “Perhaps I should finance a club like this for you in Italy. Then you would find a lifemate and start giving me grandbabies.”

“Why don’t you concentrate on getting your own lifemate first,” Christian suggested meaningfully.

Marguerite frowned as more of the pantomime from the taxi followed. It was a wiggling of eyebrows and jerking of eyes in her direction that really looked quite unattractive. Leaning forward with concern, she asked, “Are you feeling quite well, Christian? You seem to be having spasms.”

Dante and Tommaso burst out laughing, but Christian just sighed and stood up. “Father, I have to go to the bathroom.”

Julius glanced at him with surprise, and then
peered around, pointing when he saw a sign that said “gents.” “Oh, there it is there, son.”

“Yes, I know. I saw the sign,” Christian said with exasperation. “I thought perhaps you might have to go too.”

“No, I—Oh! Yes. I’ll just…” Julius stood and began to squeeze through the small space left between her chair and his. When he saw Marguerite peering at him with raised eyebrows, he muttered, “I have to…” He waved vaguely and then hurried off with Christian without finishing saying what he had to do.

Marguerite watched the men go, noting that Christian appeared to be lecturing Julius as they went, then turned back to see that Dante and Tommaso were trying desperately not to laugh, Marcus was shaking his head with apparent despair, and Tiny was looking thoughtful.

Leaning closer to Tiny who sat beside her on the opposite side from the chair Julius had occupied, she asked quietly, “Do you have any idea what is going on?”

Tiny hesitated, and then murmured, “If they were mortals, I would say that Christian is trying to get you and his father together. But since they are immortals…” He glanced in the direction the two men had gone, then back to her to ask, “Have you tried to read Julius?”

Marguerite stilled in her seat, wariness creeping through her. She had, but suddenly didn’t think she wanted to admit that.

“You have, haven’t you?” Tiny asked. His eyes narrowed on her face and he guessed, “And you don’t
want to admit it because you couldn’t read him.”

Marguerite blew out an irritated breath and glanced away.

“And you’re eating.”