Your Coffin or Mine? (28 page)

We’re talking
Chloe’s.

A red haze washed over me, my fangs extended. My own hiss echoed through my head as I twisted him loose and shoved him backward. I lunged for his throat. My hands locked and tightened and I slammed him back against the concrete. I leaned in, his throat looming in front of me—

“No!” Ty’s voice pushed past the thundering of my heart.

I wasn’t sure what happened next. I just knew that one minute I was this close to sinking my fangs into Psycho Vamp and the next I was sprawled on my ass on the floor. Ty was on his feet, teetering in front of me, looking as if he might topple over at any moment.

I saw a flash of black as Psycho Vamp did a quick disappearing act through the open doorway, and then it was just the two of us.

My mind did a quick mental on what had almost happened—me plus Psycho Vamp equaled vicious murder—and a shudder ripped through me. I’d actually…I’d been about to…

“It’s okay,” Ty murmured before he staggered to the side and slumped against the wall.

A split-second later, Ash barreled through the doorway, his gun drawn. Hot on his heels were Zee and Moe, guns in hand. Several other men followed, a mix of vampires and weres.

“Lil?” Ash knelt in front of me and reached for my arm, which gushed blood onto the cold, concrete floor.

“He’s getting away,” I said, motioning toward the door.

“Who?”

“Born vamp,” I gasped, pain zigzagging through my head with each word. “Ty’s kidnapper.”

“We didn’t see anybody. We just followed the noise.” Ash motioned to Zee. “Check it out.”

Zee nodded and headed through the door as Ash turned back to me. “You’re losing a lot of blood.”

“I’m a vampire. I’m okay.” Or I would be once I got cleaned up and crawled into bed to sleep and heal. But Ty…I motioned toward the sagging bounty hunter. “Help him.”

“We are.” Another nod and the handful of men surrounded Ty.

I watched as they picked him up and started from the room. Panic bolted through me and I stepped forward. “Wait a second.”

I reached Ty in less than a heartbeat and touched his bruised face. The questions swirled in my head. So many. Too many. “I don’t understand—,” I started, but he caught my hand and held tight.

“I can’t do this right now,” he managed with thick lips. “But soon. I promise.”

I nodded and started to move away, but he held tight to my hand, as if he never wanted to let go.

As if.

Nevertheless, his fingers stayed strong and firm around my own. His gaze held mine and I had the strange feeling that he was drawing strength from me in some way.

“You did good,” he finally said, his eyes twinkling before he let go of my hand.

I stepped back as the men closed in around Ty and then I turned to Ash. “Where are they taking him?” I finally asked.

“Someplace safe.” Someplace where I obviously couldn’t go, judging by the closed expression that settled over Ash’s face. “He’ll be all right,” he added, confirming the suspicion that he wasn’t going to tell me where they were taking him. “We’ll get him patched up and debriefed and then he can contact you.”

“What happened?”

“From the looks of this place, you kicked some royal ass.”

“I mean afterward.” Ty had stopped me. He’d saved his abductor for some reason that I couldn’t begin to understand. Not that I was complaining. I’d felt guilty enough when I’d accidentally pushed Killer off the couch yesterday. Ripping someone to shreds—even a bad someone—wasn’t something that would bode well for my conscience.

“Why did he do it?” I asked. He gave me an odd look and I realized that he hadn’t even seen the psycho vamp, much less witnessed Ty’s interference.

He touched my arm. “Do you want me to call someone? Your folks, maybe?”

I grimaced. “I think I’m feeling miserable enough.”

His warm chuckle slid over me and the pain subsided just a fraction. “I could give you a lift home?”

“No, no. You go with Ty.” The last thing, the very last thing I wanted was to have Ash in my apartment when I wasn’t at my strongest. It had been during just such a weak moment that I’d fallen off the wagon and drank from Ty. I didn’t even want to think about what would happen to me if I took a bite out of a demon.

“Not just any old demon,” he told me as he pushed to his feet, a grin tugging at his lips. “I’ve got seniority.”

Thirty-one

“S
o I told her to keep the damned thing because, of course, I can more than afford to buy a gross of chainsaws if I want to. My net worth far exceeds that of some lowly werewolf.”

“He didn’t really say that to Viola, did he?” I asked my brother Max, who was parked next to me on the sofa.

It was Sunday night, and my mother’s dinner party was in full swing. And so was my dad. He stood center stage, his favorite golf club in hand as he demonstrated his latest swing.

Max shook his head. “Not to her face. He sent a letter via Hugo.” He pointed to a large, burly man who stood in the corner.

Hugo Divine was my dad’s latest bodyguard/gopher. He was large and intimidating, with a wrinkled-up face, a green suit, and slicked-back hair: the human product of unprotected sex between Mrs. Shrek and Anthony Soprano.

“It’s his new strategy,” Max went on, “to make Viola feel inferior and vulnerable so that she’ll crack under the pressure, give up the chainsaw, and worship at his feet.”

“That sounds like the old strategy.”

He shrugged. “You know Dad. He’s set in his ways.”

At least my mother was (I never thought I’d say this) slowly evolving. She was (gulp) actually being decent, maybe a tad overconcerned.

My gaze shifted from my father to my brother Jack, who sat in a nearby chair. He had his feet propped up, a glass of blood in his hand, while my mother fussed over him.

He shifted in the chair and she signaled Sally, one of her housekeepers, who rushed forward to fluff Jack’s pillows.

Note: I said evolving, not deranged. She saw no reason to lift her own fingers when she had a bevy of willing humans to do any lifting for her.

Yep, she was definitely being decent. She hadn’t made even one derogatory remark to Mandy.

Okay, so she hadn’t actually talked to Mandy because my soon-to-be sister-in-law had gotten stuck working a double shift at the morgue and Jack had arrived solo. But I felt fairly certain that Jacqueline Marchette would have kept her digs to herself.

I’d been here all of forty-five minutes and she’d hardly spared me a glance, much less a
When are you going to get a real job?
or a
Gruella DeMaurier has ninety-six grandchildren and I don’t have a measly one.

She hadn’t even commented on my clothes. I had on a new crinkle chiffon Rebecca Taylor halter dress (I’d needed something to cheer me up after facing off with Psycho Vamp), python and leather Vivia sandals, and a Chan Luu beaded silk clutch. While I looked totally fab (as usual) and beyond reproach, my mother could always find
something.

Not tonight.

My gaze shifted to Nina One, who stood in the far corner and laughed at something Rob had said. They were really hitting it off and I had a feeling, judging by the predatory light in Nina’s eyes, that they’d be trying out my parents’ hot tub before the clock struck midnight. Or the bedroom. Or the nearest closet.

All in all, the dinner party I’d been dreading wasn’t turning out half bad.

I should be happy.

“Too bad Remy’s mother couldn’t make it,” Max remarked.

Forget happy. I should be ecstatic.

My attention shifted to Remy, who stood near my father and pretended unwavering interest in his latest golf swing. The police chief looked positively yummy in dark jeans, a gray henley, and tan loafers. His blond hair was mussed, his eyes twinkling. He smelled of soap and hunky male and nothing else. No raisins and rice pudding, or anything putridly sweet that could clash with my eau de cotton candy.

We’d spent the past half hour talking about the local ins and outs of the department and my latest matchmaking coup. Word and Suze had hit it off and were planning date number two. I’d explained my Rachel the were-Chihuahua predicament and Remy, bless his undead heart, had actually given me the name of a male were-spaniel (who woulda thunk it?). The spaniel had recently given up a brief stint coaching Little League (he’d had a hell of a time during games, what with all those balls flying around) and had taken a city manager job. He was stable, nice, and ready to settle down with someone who could squeeze out a few puppies. Literally.

Yep, Remy was a good vamp. A nice vamp. The perfect vamp. And I like him. He actually made my tummy tingle.

Not the full-blown quivering that Ty produced, but enough to make me think
maybe.
Particularly since he was here and Ty wasn’t.

Of course, that might not be Ty’s fault. It had been almost forty-eight hours since I’d found him. The wound on my arm had completely healed, but Ty might not be as far along in the healing process, which would explain, of course, why he hadn’t contacted me.

I debated calling his cell for the umpteenth time, but I wasn’t sure what to say.

I’m so glad you’re okay?

I miss you?

I like you?

I hope you like me?

I hope you
don’t
like me because then I can tell myself what a lying, stinking rat you are and devote myself to someone who might actually be able to give me a commitment ceremony, a honeymoon in Fiji, and a half dozen baby vamps?

I shook away the nagging questions and tried to concentrate on the words coming out of Max’s mouth. Something about his latest fight with a copy machine at Moe’s (my bro is totally hot and totally boring). I managed to nod and make it through the next ten minutes before I had to call it quits.

I slipped outside, walked past the pool, and perched on the steps leading to a lush stretch of green grass and landscaped gardens.

I debated making a run for it and heading back to Manhattan, but we still had to hunt and I so didn’t want to turn my mother from pampering parent to vengeful vamp. Better to go with the flow, count my good fortune that I was having a decent time, and make it through the rest of the evening.

Pulling out my cell phone, I punched in Esther’s number to get a quick update on the wedding dress. She wasn’t in and I got her machine instead. I left a message and then punched in Evie’s number.

“I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I’m watching
Dog the Bounty Hunter.
”

“Where’s a good episode of
CSI: Miami
when you really need it?”

“Sorry.” Evie had no clue about Ty’s abduction. As far as she knew, he was a conceited jerk who’d had torrid sex with me and failed to call. “I didn’t mean to remind you.”

“No big deal. Besides, I’ve got this new guy and I’m totally into him.”

“You kiss him yet?”

“We’re not that far along.”

“Then you’re not totally into him.”

“Says you. Listen, I was thinking that we could match up Gwen Rowley, that amateur photographer I told you about, with Mr. Weather.”

“I didn’t know Mr. Weather was one of our clients.”

“He isn’t, but Gwen is, and since she likes taking pictures and he likes getting his picture taken, I thought we could call and see if we could set something up.”

“Why in the world would he ever agree to go on a date with one of our clients?”

“Because I’ve got pictures.” I explained the fiasco of a date, minus the part about me being a vamp and spooking the horses, of course.

“You’re evil.”

“Yeah, well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Tell him I’ll give him the pictures if he agrees to a date.”

“Will do.” We chatted a few more minutes about various clients.

“Try to get some sleep,” she finally told me.

“I will.”

“I mean it. Just forget about him.”

“Ty? Ty who?” I punched the off button and slid the phone into my bag. I sat there for a few seconds, awareness rippling up my spine. Geez, just talking about the guy got me worked up—

The thought stalled as my gaze snagged on the tall, dark, and delicious cowboy standing several yards away near a patch of trees.

He wore a black leather vest, no shirt, and black pants. His dark, shoulder-length hair flowed down around his broad shoulders. He still bore a few bruises, but all in all he looked as strong and muscular as ever.

“Thanks to you.”
His deep voice echoed in my head and awareness zipped up my spine, and suddenly he was there, standing right in front of me, so tall and powerful and healthy that my heart gave a little jerk. “And your blood,” he added, saying the words aloud this time.

“Yeah, well, you were in pretty bad shape. I had to do something.”

“I never did get a chance to tell you how grateful I am.”

“It’s okay. You weren’t really in any shape to talk.” I drank in his face, from his neon-blue eyes fringed with dark, sooty lashes to his perfect nose, strong jaw, sensual lips. My gaze went to the tiny scar that jagged its way through his eyebrow. It was a leftover from his human days, a reminder that he was different from me, and it should have sent a jolt of reality through me.