The Rogue Hunter (36 page)

Also, should he take her where she stood, or carry her off to the bedroom where he could take her in relative comfort? Both options had their good points. Comfort was definitely nice, but there was something to be said for the added excitement of a passion that wouldn't be denied and sex in strange places. Perhaps he should—

"Stop bloody thinking and get in there."

Mortimer whirled around to scowl as he saw that Bricker stood not three feet behind him. "What are you doing?"

"I knew you'd overthink it so I thought I'd follow to give you a push if you started to lag," he said dryly.

"I don't need—" Mortimer began, and then his eyes widened as he saw Decker approaching a few feet behind Bricker.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I was just coming to suggest that Bricker and I head out to look around for the rogue while you do this." When the younger man nodded agreement, Decker glanced back to Mortimer and added, "If you can't persuade Sam to be your life mate, just ring my cell and we'll head back so I can… do what needs doing." He shrugged. "There's no sense dragging it out until tomorrow morning."

"Nothing like burying me before I'm dead," Mortimer muttered.

"Don't listen to him," Bricker said quickly, grabbing his shoulders and turning him toward the steps to Sam's cottage. "You
will
convince her. It's meant to be."

"Is it?" Mortimer asked unhappily.

"Yes, it is," Bricker assured, propelling him up the stairs. "Just—"

His words died and both men froze as a scream sounded from next door.

"That sounded like Sam," Mortimer said anxiously, shoving his way past Bricker and lunging back down the steps. He was around the cottage in a heartbeat and leaping up the boulders that separated the two properties, aware that Bricker and Pimms were on his heels.

"What would she be doing over here?" Bricker asked as they hurried across the empty yard.

Mortimer didn't answer. He was too worried about Sam to take the time to sort it out. With her balance as iffy as it was, she could have fallen and broken something, and he was desperately hoping it wasn't her beautiful neck. If she died before he could turn her, he'd kill her, Mortimer thought illogically.

"If she's seriously injured you'd have an excuse to turn her without her permission," Bricker pointed out as Mortimer led the way to the house.

The idea was tempting, but he'd rather Sam chose him herself, not be forced into it by circumstances. Besides, she might resent being turned while injured and unconscious—even if it was to save her life—and never consent to be his life mate.

The door to the house was wide open. Mortimer led the way inside, his feet turning immediately toward a set of stairs as his ears caught the murmur of voices drifting up. The fact that those voices sounded completely calm now did not ease his anxiety, and he scrambled down the steps so fast he nearly flew. Mortimer then charged for the open door of a lit room and came to a screeching halt as he saw Sam kneeling in a pool of blood, helping to gather several unscathed bags of blood as she listened to the dark-haired man kneeling beside her.

Bricker and Pimms hadn't expected him to halt so abruptly and immediately careened into his back, nearly sending the three of them toppling to the floor.

Their less than graceful entrance hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Mortimer." Sam peered up at him with surprise, and then smiled uncertainly. "I think I may have solved your rogue case for you."

Relief coursed through him as he realized she was uninjured after all. His gaze slid from her to the stranger, who was indeed an immortal, he saw, and then he moved to Sam's side, caught her by the arm, and drew her to her feet and protectively to his side.

Sighing, the dark-haired immortal got to his feet and then held out one hand. "Grant Galloway," he introduced himself. "And I am
not
a rogue."

Mortimer tucked Sam safely behind him before turning to scowl at the man accusingly. "You are if you're the one who's been biting the mortals around here."

"As it happens I have, but as I was explaining to your life mate here, I only do it in cases of an emergency."

"How did you know I was his life mate?" Sam asked, scooting in front of Mortimer before he could stop her. "You were reading my mind, weren't you?"

"Yes. I apologize, Sam, but you sort of freaked out when you saw the blood and I had to take control of you to calm you down. I inadvertently read your thoughts," the man explained, craning his neck to keep eye contact with her as Mortimer shifted her behind him again. When he could no longer see her, he then turned his attention to Mortimer.

"I only bite mortals when the power goes out and my blood supply is tainted. And I stop the moment a fresh supply arrives," Grant said stiffly, kneeling once again to finish collecting the undamaged bags and put them in the refrigerator.

"There have been too many people spotted with bite marks for it only to have been in an emergency," Mortimer said with disbelief.

Grant shrugged as he put the last bag in the refrigerator and closed the door. "The power goes out a lot up here. It really isn't very reliable. It seems that every time there's a slight wind, or a heavy snow, some tree somewhere takes down a line and disrupts the power."

A moment of silence passed as Mortimer, Decker, and Bricker exchanged glances, and then Decker asked, "Why don't you have a generator? If you had a generator, it wouldn't be an issue."

"I can't afford a generator," Grant said dryly, and then scowled as he added, "Not all of us were fortunate enough to have ancestors clever enough to gain and maintain wealth over the centuries. Some of us are just regular folk."

The words made Sam snicker, and Mortimer noted the glare Grant turned on her as she peered around his arm. He scowled at him in response and stepped sideways to block her from view, but she simply rushed around his other side and in front of him so that she could say apologetically, "I'm sorry, Grant, but there's just nothing regular about any of you. You're vampires, for God's sake."

"We prefer the term
immortals
," Grant said, sounding somewhat mollified by her explanation.

"So you claim that you've only ever bitten mortals when the power went down and your blood was tainted?" Mortimer asked, forcing them back to the point. He also threw his arm around Sam's shoulders and dragged her to his side, thinking that if the damned woman wouldn't stay where he put her, he'd have to anchor her there to keep her safe.

"I'm not
claiming
it, it's true. Read my mind if you don't believe me," Grant added, and then stood patiently, waiting.

Mortimer reached out with his thoughts, finding the man's mind open. What he read there told him that it was indeed true. Grant Galloway only resorted to biting mortals when his blood was tainted and he was waiting for a delivery of fresh supplies.

"We got our emergency delivery of fresh blood the day after the power problem. Why did it take so long for you to receive your new supplies?" Mortimer asked, remaining in the man's head to read the answer as it popped to the forefront of his thoughts. He frowned as he read that answer. Grant Galloway had insulted the head of the order-taking department at the Argeneau Blood Bank some time ago and suspected she now watched for his orders to pass her desk and then temporarily lost them to make him wait for his deliveries. He suspected she was trying to make trouble for him, and—he thought—had succeeded in her efforts, or else he wouldn't have enforcers in his home gunning for his hide.

"Jesus," Decker muttered beside him, obviously reading the thoughts too. "Why the hell didn't you report her to someone higher up?"

"I wouldn't give her the satisfaction," Grant said stiffly. "I can make do on my own."

"Report who?" Sam asked with confusion, reminding them that she couldn't read Grant's thoughts.

Yet, Mortimer thought hopefully, and quickly explained the situation.

"Well, that just sounds petty," she said with disgust. "I would have thought your people were above that."

"We're immortal, but we're still human," he said quietly.

Her eyes widened slightly as he said this, as if she hadn't been thinking of them as human after learning about their somewhat unique status. It seemed obvious he had more explaining to do, and the sooner the better.

"Go on," Decker said suddenly. "We'll deal with the matter here."

Nodding, Mortimer turned Sam toward the door.

"What will they do with Grant?" she asked anxiously as he ushered her upstairs.

Mortimer waited until they'd left the cottage and were crossing the yard before answering, "They'll call our boss, Lucian, and tell him what's going on here."

"And what will this Lucian do?" Sam asked worriedly. Apparently she liked the guy enough to be concerned for him, but then he had been her neighbor for several years.

Mortimer paused and turned to scoop her up in his arms. He'd led her to the small cliff rather than walk all the way around, but wasn't risking her trying to climb down, losing her balance, and falling. Cradling her close, he leaped off the cliff, landing on her property with a grunt. Mortimer didn't set her down then, but continued to carry her as he crossed to the deck of her family cottage.

"Mortimer?" she asked as he mounted the steps to the deck. "What will he do?"

Mortimer blew out a small breath, but answered, "I'm not sure, but I suspect Lucian will let him off the hook this time. If so, he'll probably arrange for a generator to save further problems."

"He'd do that?" Sam asked with surprise.

"He might," Mortimer said with a shrug, unable to say one way or the other. Lucian could be a hard-ass, but he looked after their people the best he could.

"What about the woman who's holding up Grant's orders?" she asked with a small frown.

"Bastien will deal with her," he said. Catching the confusion on her face, he explained, "Bastien Argeneau. He's Lucian's nephew. He heads up Argeneau Enterprises, which runs our blood banks and various other things. Lucian will tell Bastien what she's been doing and he'll deal with her."

"
Deal
with her?" Sam echoed, eyes narrowing, and Mortimer paused in front of the door to the cottage to frown at her expression.

"He isn't going to stake her through the heart and set her on fire," he said dryly. "This isn't the Middle Ages and we aren't monsters. She'll probably get a strong warning and dressing-down along with the threat of losing her job if he hears of her doing any such thing again."

When she relaxed in his arms, he shook his head and then said, "Get the door, please, love."

Sam's eyes widened at the endearment, but she reached to open the door so that he could hook his foot around it, draw it all the way open, and carry her inside.

Mortimer considered setting her down in the living room and talking to her, but his original plan had been to make love to her until she agreed to be his life mate, and it still seemed like a good plan to him. Unfortunately, he was very aware that her sisters could come home at any time, so he carried her to the short hall leading to the bedrooms.

"What are we doing?" Sam asked with surprise. They'd reached her door by then, and she promptly followed the first question with, "And how did you know this was my room?"

"I guessed," he muttered.

"You didn't answer my first question," she pointed out.

Mortimer paused beside the small double bed and kissed her before saying, "I love you, and I'm going to make love to you until you agree to be my life mate."

"I'll be your life mate," she said promptly as he lowered his head, intending to kiss her again.

Mortimer paused abruptly, unsure he'd heard her correctly. "You will?"

Sam nodded solemnly, but when he grinned and bent again to try to kiss her, she turned her head away and added, "But I don't want you turn me."

Mortimer stiffened at once, a lot of the joy that had just leaped in his chest dying at once. "What? Why not?"

Sam turned her head back and eyed him solemnly. "I can't abandon my sisters, Mortimer. I love you, but I also love them. We only have each other and I can't—"

"You have me now too," he interrupted.

"Yes." She smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. "Thank you for telling me you love me. It means a lot, and I do love you too. But Alex and Jo would be alone if I left them."

"They'll marry and have families of their own," he argued.

"And when they do I'll reconsider," she answered quietly.

Mortimer frowned, not satisfied with that. "But what if you have an accident or something, or—"

"You could turn me today and I could be in a car accident tomorrow, get trapped in the car and burn to death," she pointed out solemnly. "Isn't that true?"

Mortimer nodded reluctantly. Fire was one of the few ways one of their kind could die.

"Life is full of risks," she said softly. "I can only deal with what I know, and I know I don't want to lose you, but I don't want to lose Alex and Jo either. Besides," she added brightly. "I was thinking that Bricker and Jo really hit it off and if he were to turn her—"

"He can read her," Mortimer interrupted gently. "They aren't life mates."

"Oh." She frowned at this news, but then bounced back with "Well, you must know loads of immortals. We'll just have lots of dinner parties and introduce my sisters to your friends until—"

"Sam," he interrupted gently, "sweetheart, the chances of their also turning out to be life mates to an immortal are…" Mortimer paused as he saw the tears gathering in her eyes. Feeling his heart squeeze with pain for her, he said sadly, "I just don't want you to get your hopes up, honey."

"Hope is all I have," Sam said solemnly. "Let me hold on to it as long as I can. Please?"

Mortimer closed his eyes briefly, his mind whirling. She had chosen him, but couldn't yet let go of her family. With time he hoped that would change, but until then it meant a lot of worry and agony for them both. She would wear herself out trying to find life mates for her sisters, and when that failed, constantly fret about the day when she would have to make the final decision to give them up and allow herself to be turned. As for him, he would constantly fret about her health and well-being and not getting herself killed before he could turn her.