Sex and the Single Vamp (5 page)

Chapter Five

Deacon watched Cici pull herself together, steely determination tightening every soft curve of her face. His goddess was back. Wounded. Beautiful. Fierce. Passionate. It pretty much summed up Felicity Trent for as long as he’d known her.

She pointed to a set of double doors to the right of the landing. “In there.”

Deacon turned, moving ahead, and she followed, careful to trail closely in his footsteps.

“Stay near me. Don’t touch anything. I don’t want them tipped off we were here.” He stepped across the threshold. Cici stopped dead in her tracks and he knew she was shocked. She wasn’t used to a crime scene after the forensic unit had been there—many years a spy, but never a cop. The lush coverlet and matching curtains were stripped from the bed and windows. Every personal item had been removed from every surface; it looked like a perverse dark-dust-covered shell of what it had been—the private hideaway of married lovers.

Deacon slipped his phone out of his pocket and thumbed the screen, tapping until he brought up an image on the display.

“Here’s a panoramic shot of the crime scene before they took all the stuff to the crime lab.” He tilted the screen toward her so she could see the room in detail, down to the grotesque coupling of Maria and Strauss on the bed. She flinched and he knew it wasn’t any easier to see it the second time.

“How did you get that?” she asked, sliding her finger across the screen to see the whole picture.

“I hacked into the police database. I have every file, photo, and note in real time as they add it to the system.” He couldn’t help the grin that took over his face. It was a really great hack. “Cool, huh?”

“Illegal is more like it.”

“Only if they catch me.”

“Nice.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll slip a file into your cake when you get sent to the pokey.”

“What about a fruit and chocolate basket?

“What?” she asked, baffled by this turn in the conversation.

“I want a basket just like the one you sent to Maria and Strauss.” On the screen, he pointed to a large basket sitting on a side table in their room, next to the bed. It had fruit overflowing, a huge box of chocolates, and champagne. It was as clear as the stunned expression on her face—she’d never seen it before in her life.

“I didn’t send them a basket.”

“The cops say you did.”

“I didn’t.” She shook her head, backing away from him as if the phone were a ticking bomb. “I
didn’t
send them that basket.”

“Good, because it’s the murder weapon. Well, the chocolates are.”

She waved her hand in front of him, making the “keep going” motion when he paused. He scanned the incoming report from Andy, eyes tracking down the screen, his gut clenching as he processed the information. Finished, he raised his eyes to her, not wanting to share this brutal death with her. “The chocolates were injected with insulin. Your friends were poisoned.”

Cici’s mouth fell open, her lips trying to form words. He knew what she wanted to know, what she had to know.

“It was quick, but it wasn’t easy. They had each other to the end, though.”

He didn’t know why the fuck he said that last part, but the look of pain that flashed across her face when she heard about the way her friends had died had reached in, grabbed his balls, and twisted them around. It was the only words of comfort he could offer her. Deacon felt a little ill, and a lot of hatred for the sick fuck who brought this to her doorstep. It burned like a bonfire in his chest. When he killed him, he’d remember this moment and never hesitate.

“You’re going to catch them, right?” Cici’s eyes flashed with the anger that was quickly overcoming her pain. It worked for him—stay furious and you didn’t hurt. “You’ll make them pay, right, Deacon?”

He nodded.

She stepped forward, grasping his shirt with both hands, her long nails scraping his skin through the fabric. Her eyes were flashing a dark, ominous blue.

“I mean it. Don’t let the cops get them and let them off on some stupid plea.” She stood up on tiptoe, eyeball to eyeball with him. “Make them suffer. Promise me.”

He didn’t hesitate. If Cici wanted it, it was done.

“I promise.”

She released him, stepping away and turning so he couldn’t see her face. He let her have the moment, watching as her shoulders relaxed a little as she calmed her emotions. Their kind was passionate—quickly riled and just as quickly brought down—but the fury, the emotion, lingered in their blood and was never forgotten. The vampire part of her was pissed and the murderer should be wishing that Deacon got to him first.

Deacon scanned other reports, photographs, and compared them to the scene. Andy was expertly feeding the information into the right folders to make sure he was one step ahead of the police. A pop-up text from Andy caught his attention and he cursed when he read the contents.

“What?” Cici turned, her emotions under control once again.

“We’ve got to get moving.” He thumbed through the last of the message and slid the phone in his pocket. “The cops took the bait and are processing the paperwork to bring you in for questioning.”

“Jesus. Why don’t they just arrest me?” She followed him out of the room, keeping close on his heels as they exited the house the way they came. He glanced up and down the street, remaining in the shadows of the porch while he listened to the sounds in the night air.

No tail. Not even a cop on duty to watch the house. Dumbasses. If this were his case, he’d have two men watching this house 24-7. For once he was glad they were being sloppy.

“You’ve got an alibi for the first murders since you were being interviewed on TV and the judge is skittish to arrest a media darling like you with such a big hole in the story,” he said.

“Thank God for
Entertainment Nightly
.”

“Don’t send them a thank-you basket.
Please
.” He slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and eased out onto the street. They remained quiet for a few moments while he made sure they weren’t followed before he relaxed back against his seat, navigating the light traffic on the roads at this hour. “Actually, you need to thank the moron who thought the department should be divided into two sides, one for the humans and one for Others.”

“Why should I thank him?”

“When cases involve human and Other victims, they spend more time jockeying for position than solving the crime. This case is moving at the speed of sludge due to the bickering. We’ve got time.”

“Is that why you left the force?”

He jumped on I-495 North and headed toward Cici’s house, the traffic picking up on the highway. Concentrating on the other drivers kept him from launching into a diatribe on what he now hated about the job he’d loved for so long. If he hadn’t opened Aura Mortis, he would have been really lost. The job was all he had for so long and the loss had been much harder than he expected.

“When the pissing contests between the sides became more important than solving the crime, I had to leave.”

“I’m sure you were missed when you left.” He glanced over in the gloom at her face, only catching glimpses when the oncoming headlights flashed into his truck. She met his gaze for two beats and then reached across the console to squeeze his thigh. “Or not.”

Deacon stared out at the road. He’d never spoken to anyone about how much it had hurt to be turned on by his brothers when they found out what he was. Men he’d sworn to take a bullet for rejected him because he didn’t have a heartbeat. Friends who’d had him over to their houses for barbecues were suddenly afraid to let him near their children.

Brothers. Partners. Men he no longer trusted to have his back. One more point in his book against Others and humans trying to mesh their worlds. It never worked out.

Cici squeezed his thigh once more, communicating that she got it. He didn’t know how, but she understood. He lowered his hand to cover hers, not pulling away when she threaded her fingers with his.

“Or not,” he said.

They rode in silence until they reached her house and he pulled around back along the alley, stopping at her back door. He cut the engine and exited the truck, scanning the area for unwanted visitors before heading to her door and opening it for her to leap out.

“So what’s next?” Cici asked.

“I have a source I want to talk to. If anyone has a lead on the scum of the earth, he’ll know.”

She laughed. “Is this source a friend of yours?”

He thought about that. His interaction with Antonio was a strange one from the beginning so many years ago. Sometimes they were allies, friends, and other times…they weren’t.

“Sometimes.”

“So what is he today?”

“A business partner.”

“Got it.” Her expression said she didn’t but he let it go, enjoying the sexy little way she squinted and tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth when she was figuring something out for herself. Cici turned to head up the stairs to her back door, her keys jangling loudly in the quiet of the evening.

“You need to change.” Deacon watched her ass sway in front of him at eye level, just realizing how good this part of the night’s activities was going to be for him. “Something sexy. Tight. Suitable for clubbing.”

“Clubbing?’

“We’re going to Sanctuary.”

“What?” She spun to stare down at him. “I’m not going to that place.”

“Yes, you are. I need to talk to Antonio, and if you’re with me you’re not getting arrested by the cops.”

“That place is…” Her entire expression twisted as if someone had left the lid off the nearby trash Dumpster. “That place is disgusting.”

“I’m sorry. Who died and made you judge? For someone who’s all about Others and humans having a choice, you’re really narrow-minded about what their options are.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really?” He advanced on her, moving up the stairs until he stood on the same step. Deacon knew he loomed over her and should probably back off, but if she was going to spout off bullshit then she was going to have to deal with him being a jerk. “You say everyone should have a choice and for some people that’s having more than one person, sometimes at the same time. That’s okay. As long as they are honest with each other, up-front and consenting, there should be no limits imposed by some third party.”

“That place encourages that behavior, people using other people.”

“Nobody gets used unless they want it.” He reined in his temper, knowing he wouldn’t change her mind. They didn’t have all the time in the world. “Your moral indignation on behalf of people you don’t even know is duly noted. Now get your ass in gear and get changed.”

“But you need an invite to get in there.”

“I don’t.” Deacon reached up and took her keys out of her hand, unlocking her door. At this rate, Sanctuary would be closed before they got out of her apartment. Even vampires didn’t stay up all night.

“Really?” She planted her hand on her hip, belligerent challenge reverberating through every muscle of her body. “Why don’t
you
need an invitation?”

Damn, he knew there was real danger out there and he had no business enjoying this time with Cici. He’d missed her. Missed her pit bull determination and crazy-ass bravery when the odds were really shitty. And he loved moments like this when he knew he was going to blow her fucking mind.

“Because I own it.”

Chapter Six

Sanctuary was no sanctuary.

Not in the true sense of being a place of safety and peace. It was a cavern of shadows, driving beats that vibrated in the blood of the crowd, an inferno where no one was safe from the flames of lust that warmed, singed, and consumed.

The club had been conceived over a drunken weekend in Italy. Antonio Di Pietro was bored, Deacon was feeling indulgent, and they both had money to throw away. The concept had been easy–they both loved sex and booze and the combination almost guaranteed some measure of success.

Antonio had designed the interior, layering in the seven deadly sins as an artist would use shades of color to entice, seduce, and enthrall a viewer. He wanted their guests to forget the world outside the club’s doors and fully become their souls’ darkest desires. He presided over each evening’s festivities like the king of the underworld from a booth on the far side of the room.

Deacon was content to be a silent partner.

The moment Deacon entered with Cici, Antonio’s dark eyes swiveled to meet his own while he continued to listen to his pretty companion. He still looked every inch of his Italian ancestors—dark, dangerous, and mysterious. Deacon and Antonio were nearly identical in temperament. But where Antonio still openly and unabashedly reveled in the darkest of acts, Deacon purposefully curbed that side of his nature, because he knew just how far down into the darkness he could go and how much he loved it. There had been spans of time in his life when he’d gorged himself on excess—blood, sex, violence—fueled by a madness born of self-hatred and heartbreak, but he walked the straight and somewhat narrow road these days. And that was why his visits to Sanctuary were few and far between.

Deacon made his way through the crowd, clutching the still-seething Cici’s stiff hand tightly; the crowd parted ahead of him, mostly younger vampires identified easily by their tendency to show rather than grow their fangs. They sensed his age and gave him a wide berth. Most knew him, or more importantly knew of him, and that would protect Cici from any asshole who thought he might try something with the newbie.

The bouncers at Sanctuary kept the biggest trouble at bay, but in a place where two consenting adults could get up to anything they wanted in the dark recesses of the club, you couldn’t be too careful.

“Deacon.” Antonio nodded at him, turning quickly to smile at Cici. “Ms. Trent, I’m glad to finally see you here.”

Cici wrenched her hand out of his and stepped a pace away, her glossy red curls catching the lowlights in the room. She was gorgeous, even more so because of the anger wafting off her like a sweet perfume. “You couldn’t have really expected me to come here.”

“No, I didn’t,” Antonio said, his smile showing both fangs. “Although I hoped.”

“You never sent me an invitation.”

“Yes. Well, that was because Deacon wouldn’t let me.”

“Fuck no, I wouldn’t.” Deacon reached over and wrapped a possessive arm around Cici, letting everyone know whom they’d be messing with if they even looked at her sideways. “Not to this place.”

“And what exactly is wrong with this place?” Antonio shook his head, gesturing to the masses of bodies around them and they all turned to observe the spectacle—vampires, a few Others, and enough humans to make it sordid. This wasn’t a sex club, but people came here for specific reasons and it wasn’t to sip tea and make small talk over a round of bridge. Humans came to feed off the excitement they thought existed in the Other world, and the vampires came ready to fulfill human fantasy and nourish themselves at the same time. They’d been accused of filtering a sex pheromone through the ventilation system, but this was all crowd-induced, each person’s deepest desires feeding off the other until nobody could resist the pull.

Sex, edged with danger, was always part of the blood play equation and he’d wanted to keep Cici far away from all of it. He didn’t fool himself that she was an innocent, but he couldn’t have borne the idea that she was here indulging in all that frenetic, contrived intimacy with one of the faceless masses.

“Is that true? You wouldn’t let him invite me?” Cici asked in a low voice.

“That’s right,” he said, refusing to budge an inch on this one. She could be as pissed as she wanted. The only way she was getting in here was with him, like tonight. She’d blow a gasket if she got a look at his private files and realized just how close an eye he’d kept on her over the years. He’d promised her father and he took his promises seriously.

Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth, ready to chew his ass. “Deacon—”

“Holy shit! What are you doing here?”

Cici was wrenched away from him and engulfed in muscled arms by a large black man in jeans and a tight dark T-shirt. Cici automatically hugged the guy back, her delight erasing all the anger from her face. Deacon bit back his automatic reflex to tell the guy to keep his distance but watched the scene closely.

“Mya! You’re here?”

Deacon did a double take. Mya? He took a good, hard look at the man, still not seeing any trace of the blond-haired woman he’d met in Cici’s office hours earlier. The guy turned and winked at him and instantly he recognized the same knowing gleam in those dark eyes.

“Surprised, vampire?” Mya asked, a huge grin of white teeth splitting the mocha brown skin of the manly face with a substantial five-o’clock shadow.

“No matter how old I get, I’ll never get used to that,” he said.

“While you’re getting over your shock, I’m taking my girl dancing.” Mya grabbed Cici’s arm, halting when Deacon took a step forward to stop them. She shook her head and waved a hand over the expanse of long, huge body she now inhabited. “What? You think I can’t protect her in this form?”

He knew she could. Mya possessed the strength of an ancient fey no matter what form she was in. She’d take care of Cici while he pumped Antonio for info.

Mya smirked, not bothering to hide her “I told you so” expression. “Good choice. Besides, everyone in here knows she belongs to you. You made that perfectly clear.”

Cici’s head swiveled between the two of them, confusion and curiosity swimming in her eyes. He’d be answering lots of questions later.

Deacon watched them both melt into the edge of the dancing crowd and he didn’t miss the appreciative glances of the men and women aimed at Cici. She looked amazing. Her hair was a curly mass of fire as it tumbled around her face and shoulders. Her black minidress was cut low in the front and rode high on her thighs, allowing ample opportunity for anyone to admire miles and miles of creamy, pale skin. He didn’t like it one damn bit.

“You either need to go grab her and get a room, or sit your ass down and ask me whatever you came here to ask. Mya and I have an appointment later,” Antonio said from where he still sat at his table.

“Mya?” Deacon looked down on his business partner as he slid into the chair next to him. “Really?”

“I’m going to live forever. What do I care about gender hang-ups?” Antonio shrugged. “Mya is a good time and doesn’t ever expect more than that.”

“She’s…he’s…a good friend to Cici. That’s all that I give a shit about.” Deacon took the glass of his favorite whiskey from the waitress.

“So, that’s the woman who’s had your dick tied up for the last two centuries?”

Deacon took a gulp of the whiskey, letting it slide down in a slow burn as he stifled the urge to punch Antonio in the face.

“I cannot tell you how much I regret getting drunk that night and telling you anything about my life,” Deacon said, keeping Cici in his sight.

“We’d barely survived that gunfight, and Marshall Earp was buying.”

“Cheap whiskey.”

“And even cheaper women as I recall,” Antonio said. “Women you took to bed but would never feed from. You’d drop them like a bad habit when they even thought about getting close.” He nodded his chin at Cici dancing a few feet away. “That night. It was the first and one of the few times I’ve heard her name.”

“Well, this conversation is going to make your night because it’s all about her.”

Antonio saluted him with a drink. “I never thought you’d voluntarily submit to neutering.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you brought her here then I can assume you’re sleeping with her, and that leads to my most logical conclusion that you have gone over to the dark side and will soon commit unholy matrimony.”

“No. No.” Deacon reeled back from the topic of conversation. He needed to clear up this misunderstanding pronto, but he wasn’t going to give Antonio all the juicy details. “Our arrangement will not end in any kind of matrimony, joint bank accounts, or a shared pet. Trust me on that.”

“So you’ve corrupted the poster child for true love?” Antonio laughed as he took another swig of whiskey from his glass. “Even I didn’t think you’d sink that low.”

“Shut up.” Deacon tamped down the urge to punch him in the face, taking another large gulp of whiskey instead. “I don’t have time for your bullshit tonight. I need information on who might be after Cici.”

“I figured. She’s been a hot topic lately.” Antonio grimaced, his fangs showing and echoing his disgust. “And you will not like the people who’ve been talking about her.”

This is what Deacon came to hear.

“What have you heard?”

“That’s she’s pissed a lot of people off with this dating agency. People who think that our kind and humans shouldn’t be together.” Antonio leaned in closer, his jaw tight as he relayed what he knew. “Assholes who think we should be locked away or preferably destroyed.”

“FAR?”

Antonio nodded his head. “They haven’t owned up to it, but that’s who everyone suspects.”

“And?”

“They want her dead.”

Deacon had known it was coming. It didn’t make it any easier to hear. “How much?” he asked, his body shaking from the effort to stay in his chair. Every part of him roared for him to find this asshole and make him hurt for an eternity. His fangs descended, their sharp edges against his lips only heightening the desire to shred, tear, and destroy.

“No price. They made it clear that no one else was allowed to kill her. This sick fuck wants to do it himself.” Antonio leaned in, his voice rough and deadly serious. “I’m in if you need me, Deacon. If it’s FAR—”

“It’s them. I feel it in my gut.”

“Then I’m in.”

Deacon took a long look at Antonio, wondering what he was missing. Antonio wasn’t a joiner. He fought on the side most aligned with his own interests—especially monetary ones—but his tone said this was personal.

“You’re not the only one who’s lost people because of assholes like them.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the offer.”

“She isn’t the only one they want on a platter.” Antonio narrowed his eyes, his lips twisting into a dark half smile. “Actually, it’s your head they want on that particular serving dish.”

He wasn’t surprised. His life was full of things that people would want to avenge at some point in time. Same shit, different century.

“Are they offering enough money to tempt you?” Deacon asked, not really sure about what the answer would be. The right price might sway Antonio.

“No. Cheap bastards aren’t offering anything beyond bragging rights and we both know I could kick your ass any time I feel like it.”

He had the information he needed. Deacon shifted in his seat, his gaze following Cici as she danced with Mya. She moved with the music, smiling at her friend, oblivious to the havoc her luscious body was creating around her. Human and Other alike were drawn to the fire cascade of curls and the smooth, creamy expanse of skin. Shit, she was going to cause a riot and he was going to have to kick some ass to get her out of here.

Cici looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes flaring to life as they made contact with his. Even from this distance he could see the desire for him and her hatred for this place battling for dominance. That was fine. He’d always figured that they were headed for angry sex with all the baggage between them. He’d take it. Less chance of her getting all gooey on him if she was pissed.

Deacon kept his eyes locked on hers, communicating clearly what he wanted. This club was an aphrodisiac of sorts and he was willing to let it take them both on a wild ride. He wasn’t a man to neglect his needs or to ignore his desires. He saw what he wanted and he took it, and when his prey was obviously so willing, his blood raced with the thrill of impending pleasure.

He was a predator. Danger heightened his instinct and made it his sole focus. Sex was another part of the game he enjoyed playing and winning. The fates had brought Cici back into his life wrapped up in both like some carnal present.

Deacon also knew that his actions, taken over two centuries ago, were partially responsible for bringing this danger into Cici’s life. He’d fucked it up big-time back when FAR first came after her, but he wouldn’t do it this time. He’d also made the mistake letting this lust between them linger and grow for too long. Now was the time for him to erase two big blemishes on his past and move the fuck on.

Antonio chuckled darkly at his side, grabbing a cigarette from the pack on the table and lighting up with a long, slow drag. “Before you go and claim your woman, answer this. What did you do to piss off FAR? Other than come to the aid of the damsel in distress?”

“I kept a promise.”

“That must have been some big fucking promise.”