The Rogue Hunter (32 page)

"My sister is into bugs and bats and things," Sam said dryly. "She freaks if you dare swat a spider or some other disgusting creature. She likes them."

"Oh." Mortimer smiled faintly.

"Speaking of which, we'd best get going. It's nearly dark out," Alex said, turning to Jo.

"Yeah," Jo agreed, and then turned an impish smile on Sam and Mortimer. "Obviously you two would rather stay here and make out than go with us, so I guess we'll leave you to it."

"Thank you," Sam said dryly.

"Don't touch the pies," Alex ordered, picking up her purse and heading for the door. "See you later."

"See you later," Jo echoed as she followed and then glanced wickedly back and added, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Since there isn't much Jo wouldn't do, I'll honk three times to warn you when we return," Alex muttered as she pushed her way out the door.

Laughing at her promise, Sam slid out from under Mortimer's arm and moved to the window over the sink to watch her sisters get in the car, start it up, and head up the driveway. She was aware of Mortimer moving to stand behind her, could feel the heat of him against her back, but waited until the car was out of sight before turning to face him. The moment she did, she rose up on tiptoe, slipping her hand behind his head as she did and drawing his face down so she could kiss him.

Mortimer responded, but in a distracted manner that carried none of the passion of the night before. Deciding that wouldn't do, she broke the kiss, caught his hand, and dragged him into the living area. Pausing beside the couch, she pushed him to sit on it, climbed on to straddle his lap, and started to kiss him again as she blindly began to undo the buttons of his short-sleeved shirt.

Much to her amazement, Mortimer caught her hands in his to stop her and then used them to urge her backward and break their kiss.

"What is it?" she asked with surprise. The last time she'd seen him he couldn't keep his hands off her. They'd both been insatiable. Now he apparently wasn't interested. Something must be wrong.

Mortimer hesitated. "About this vampire business."

Sam laughed with disbelief that such a silly thing seemed to be on his mind, and then her eyes widened as a thought came to her. "What is it? Did you want to play a game? You get to be the big scary vampire and I cower in fear as you ravish me?"

She smiled faintly at the idea and reached between them to find him semi-erect. He wasn't as unaffected as he appeared, Sam realized and gave a throaty laugh as she leaned closer again to kiss him, her hand stroking him through his jeans. She felt him twitch through the cloth under her hand, but he didn't open his mouth or try to kiss her back. Instead he turned his head away.

"Sam, we have to talk," he said solemnly when she paused and sat back with bewilderment.

Sam stilled at his serious tone of voice. They had to talk? she wondered worriedly. That always preceded a bad conversation. Things like "your parents were killed in a car accident," or "your dog Fluffy choked on a bone and died," or "I want to break up with you."

Since her parents were already dead and she didn't have a dog… Christ, Sam thought faintly. Was it over already?

"Sam, I like you. More than like you even."

Her breath slid out on a rush of relief, and she relaxed in his lap and leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I like you too."

"No," Mortimer said seriously. "I mean, I
really
like you. The ever-after kind of like."

Sam sat back and stared wide-eyed as she tried to think where this was going. Ever-after kind of like, he'd said. What was that? And what the hell was he trying to say? It was way too early in their relationship for anything really serious to even be considered. Sam liked him, she more than liked everything about him so far, but—

"I realize it seems fast and you're probably worried about making a mistake, but—" Mortimer caught her face between his hands and peered at her solemnly as he said, "It isn't a mistake, Sam. I can guarantee you that. You're my life mate."

She stared at him blankly. Life mate? That was a new term she'd never heard before. She'd heard mate, and life partner, but never life mate. And what the devil was he saying anyway? It sounded to her like he was looking for some kind of commitment, but she wasn't sure. And she wasn't sure how she should respond. In truth, Sam wouldn't really mind some sort of commitment between them, but she knew others would think they were rushing and—Well, there was really no reason to rush, was there? She knew it was more sensible to take things more slowly.

Releasing her hold on him, Sam settled more sedately in his lap and cleared her throat before speaking. "I like you too, Mortimer. But there's really no need to rush this. We could date awhile, maybe live together."

"That probably won't work," he said quietly, and when she frowned, he grimaced and admitted, "I'd need a commitment from you before you leave this weekend."

Sam gaped with surprise. That was definitely rushing it in her book. "Why?"

"My work takes me away a lot," he said slowly, and then added, "And right now, I don't want to be away from you. Maybe I never will."

Sam melted at his words. They were so sweet. She found she didn't want to be away from him either… but she had her job at the law firm, and he was in his band.

"That's even more of a reason to take it slow, Mortimer," she said quietly. "To see if we can work out."

"We can," he assured her quickly.

"I hope so," she admitted. "But we have to work out how. I studied long and hard to be a lawyer; I'm not ready to just toss it over to follow your band around like some stalker groupie."

"I'm not in a band."

That blurted bit of information made her stare at him blankly. "What?"

"I—none of us—we aren't in a band. There is no Morty and the Muppets, or the Rippers."

Sam slid off his lap to sit on the couch. This was going to be terribly serious after all. "You lied to me?"

"No. Bricker did. I just didn't correct him," he said quickly.

"It's the same thing," she said with irritation.

"But there was a reason. I couldn't tell you the truth. You wouldn't have believed it."

"What is the truth?"

Mortimer hesitated and then said, "You know how that first night when Jo was guessing what we used to do and you said you would have guessed police of some description?" He waited for her to nod and then said, "Well, you were right."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "You're a police officer from L.A.?"

"Sort of," he said cautiously. "We're enforcers."

"Enforcers?" she echoed with bewilderment.

Mortimer nodded and then licked his lips and added, "For the Council."

"What Council?" she asked at once.

"Our Council, our governing body."

"You work for the government?" Sam asked with amazement, and then shook her head as she recalled that Bricker and Mortimer were from the U.S. and Decker from Canada. Mouth tightening, she asked, "Which government? The U.S. or Canada?"

"Our Council governs our people in both the U.S. and Canada," he said carefully.

Now Sam was getting angry. He was obviously stringing her another line of bull. "There is no such thing."

"Yes," he assured her. "There is."

"Oh, for God's sake, just tell her already."

Both of them swiveled to stare at Bricker as the other man tugged the screen door open and stepped inside. He moved to stand at the end of the couch, hands on hips and scowling.

"You're making her think you're a fruitcake with all this dancing around the subject," Bricker told him dryly, and then glanced to Sam. "I'm sorry I lied, but you and your sisters hardly would have believed it if I'd announced that we were rogue vampire hunters."

"Rogue vampire hunters!" Sam squawked and was suddenly off the couch. Backing up several feet, she glared at the pair of them. "If this is your idea of a joke—"

"We're not trying to be funny," Mortimer said quickly, getting to his feet. "Sam, he's telling the truth this time."

"Right. You're rogue vampire hunters," she said with disgust.

Mortimer winced at her disdain, but nodded. "Yes, we are."

Sam stared at him with disbelief. "You expect me to believe that vampires really exist and you guys—what? Hunt them down and stake them? Cut off their heads to give them rest? Puhleeze." She turned to storm out of the room, but Bricker was in the way. He also had his mouth open, and as she watched in sick fascination, his front canine teeth seemed to shift forward and drop like blinds sliding down a window.

"See," he said with his mouth still open so it sounded more like
thee
. His fangs retracted and then shot out again and then retracted once more. Shrugging, he said, "Vampires."

Sam stared. It had to be some trick, fake teeth controlled by battery-operated remote or something. But it was a good trick.

"Oh," she breathed finally. "You guys are good. I'll give you that. Now if you're done with your little joke, I'd like you both to leave."

"Get out of here Bricker," Mortimer said grimly and waited for the other man to leave before turning to move toward her, saying quietly, "It isn't a joke, Sam."

"Don't touch me," she hissed, backing away. Her feelings were still confused, but anger was winning the battle. "Of course it's a joke. What is this? Your way of breaking up with me? Make me think you're crazy so I do the job for you?"

"I don't want to break up with you."

"Well, you don't want me with you or you wouldn't try spinning such a stupid story. And you must have planned this well ahead because I'm pretty sure there aren't any stores up here that carry specialty items like those teeth Bricker flashed. What did you guys do? Just head up here planning to sweet-talk some girl into bed and then play your little gag on her? Would any girl have done and I just happened to be handy?"

"No, I—"

"You didn't have to bother," Sam interrupted and then—hurt beyond words—added cruelly, "You were just supposed to be a fling for me anyway. You know, fall off a horse, get back on another. Did you really think someone like me could fall for a beatnik in a band? What did you imagine? That I was fantasizing about following you from gig to gig and flashing you my tits from the audience?"

"Sam." He tried to catch her hands again, but she backed quickly away.

"Don't. Don't try and play the nice guy now. You had your fun last night, wanted to break it off today and succeeded. Now you can go back to your buddies and laugh about how easy it was to get me into bed, and how upset I was when you pulled this stunt. This will probably be as funny to them as the leech incident must have been. That should have given them a good laugh. I know my sisters laughed themselves silly," she added bitterly.

"Nobody will think this is funny," Mortimer said, reaching for her hand again.

Sam tugged it away, her mouth hardening. "Just get out."

"Sam," he pleaded quietly.

"Now," she growled, too furious to have any desire to listen. She was hurting and angry and just wanted to break something. That or cry. Either way, she wanted him out of there before she did either.

Much to her relief, Mortimer didn't try to argue further, but released his breath on a slow sigh and simply turned and left.

Sam watched through the window until he disappeared into the cottage next door before turning abruptly away to survey the room. She needed something to do, something to distract her, she thought wildly, and then suddenly found herself snatching up a book sitting on the corner of the table and wheeling it furiously at the wall. It crashed into a family portrait taken years ago, knocked it from the wall, and sent it crashing to the floor with a tinkle of shattering glass. And then Sam was crying.

Turning away from the accusing stares of her family in the photo, she moved over to the couch, climbed on it to sit with her legs gathered beneath her, caught up one of the cushions next to her, and pulled it to her chest to bury her face in it as she began to sob. It felt as if her heart was breaking, and she feared it just might be.

"You just left?" Bricker asked with disbelief.

"What was I supposed to do?" Mortimer snarled, pacing the kitchen floor. "She was too hurt and angry to listen."

Bricker exchanged a glance with Decker and then said, "You should have talked to her. Convinced her it wasn't a joke. Claimed her as your mate."

The younger man still thought you could win anything if you fought hard enough. But after eight hundred years, Mortimer had learned that there were some things that fighting would not get you, and that sometimes you just had to back off and give a person space. Shaking his head wearily, he said, "God, Bricker, sometimes you're so young."

"Yeah, well sometimes you're old and stubb—"

"He's right, Bricker. Fighting and forcing her to listen won't help here," Decker interrupted.

"What?" the young man turned on him with amazement. "Well, what else can you do? She—"

"—isn't going to listen to anything anyone says unless we can get her attention," Decker said, and then added, "And from what I can tell, right now she thinks she's been played and is too hurt and furious with Mortimer to listen to anything he has to say."

Bricker frowned over this and then turned to Mortimer and offered, "I could try to intervene for you."

His anger with the man softened at the offer, but he shook his head. "She thinks we're both dirtbags at the moment."

"Then I can," Decker said, and Mortimer closed his eyes. He had good friends.

"Thank you," he assented, trying not to let his hopes rise. Decker might not be able to get Sam to listen either. She probably thought him a dirtbag too now. "When will you—?"

"Now," Decker interrupted, and promptly walked out of the cottage.

Mortimer moved to the door and watched silently as the other immortal took the trail through the trees, very aware that the man held Mortimer's future in his hands.

Chapter Seventeen

Sam had stopped crying when a knock at the door made her glance up from where she'd curled up on the couch with her pillow. The sight of Decker through the screen door made resentment rise up within her. It seemed the joke wasn't over yet, she thought, and asked bitterly, "What do you want?"