All Hell Breaks Loose (23 page)

“No, actually, Alexander said you’d figure it out the first night, I thought it would take more than one night,” Julius admitted.

Gabi decided not to let on that Fergus had given the game away.  It would be her private revenge that his presumption cost him an expensive car.

“What, no yelling and screaming, Hellcat?” Alexander asked.

“No,” she said calmly.

“Oh, Sire,” Alexander said to Julius, “I think you’re in deep shit.  I’d feel better if there was yelling and screaming.  Maybe we should put the knife and sword collection into the safe for a few days.”

Julius just grinned.  “Oh, I’m sure Gabrielle has some suitable revenge planned, but it won’t be a direct attack.  Will it, my Lea?” he asked her.

Her eyes just glittered with the promise of wicked retribution.

“Tell me about Jason King,” she said.

They both looked at her, mystified by the change in topic.

“The business man and self-proclaimed celebrity?”
Alexander asked.

Gabi filled them in on what Byron had told her about the man stonewalling him and Olivia on the City Council.  When she finished, there was silence for long seconds as the two men looked intently at each other, Alexander shrugged, and Julius then nodded.

“
Argh
, will you two cut out the Siamese twins act,” she snarled.

The two Vampires had known each other so long that they could practically have whole conversations without saying a word.  It was one of the most annoying habits Gabi had ever had the misfortune to encounter.

“Jason King wasn’t born Jason King,” Julius said.  “His surname used to be Sweeney.”

Gabi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“An associate of ours knew his father, Howard Sweeney, now deceased.” Alexander took up the story.  “He was an underground gun runner. 
One of the most notorious arms smugglers of his day.”
  He downed the last of the bourbon in his plastic cup.  “While Jason seems to have gone legit, it’s obvious where he got his financial start.  We only know of Jason King’s true identity because of the information we had about his father.”

“Howard was the head of one of the City’s most notorious crime families.” Julius put in. 
“A real Godfather type.”

“And once in the business, always in the business,” Gabi said, standing and beginning to pace the room.  “What has Byron done that’s tweaked this twerp’s nose?”

“It’s possible he’s taken over his father’s business and is running it on the side.  Maybe Byron did something that affected his ‘family’ business,” Alexander suggested.  “One thing I’ve heard is that he’s the vengeful type.  He is of the opinion that a slight against him or his family has to be paid back in full and with interest.  He can be a real bastard.”

“Hmm,” Gabi mused, “I guess that is a possibility.  I’ll pass that info on to Byron.  Maybe he can dig up more with the man’s true identity.”

“We have some info that may be more relevant to the
Werewolf
problems,” Alexander said.

Gabi stopped pacing, the Jason King problem forgotten in an instant.

Julius continued.  “
After discussing the information that Ian gave us about the
group seeking information on
Werewolves
, Alexander reminded me that
Sebastian
had found something similar a few months ago
.  This kind of thing crops up fairly regularly over the years.  Sometimes it’s a victim who
’
s been left to fend for themselves, but
sometimes
it’s
humans trying to
out
us.  If it’s in my jurisdiction
,
we track them down and deal with the problem. Otherwise
,
we pass the information on to the
Princeps
to deal with.  Sebastian was working on tracking the group, but they were v
ery good at hiding their tracks,
dividing the work between various accounts
with
false name trails.
 
He hadn’t been abl
e to find anything concrete, but
it was really a spare time kind of thing.  It didn’t seem urgent at the time.  Jonathon
caught up with us earlier to say that there’ve been more requests for information from that
group trying to find out what kill
s and sedates
Werewolves
.  They’re now looking for data on exactly how the virus can be
spread.”

Gabi felt an icy hand run slowly up her spine, lifting the tiny hairs on the back o
f
her neck.

“You think it’s the same group
Sebastian was investigating?” she asked
,
already knowing the answer.

“It’s seems logical,” Julius agreed.  “These groups, the really serious ones, don’t pop up all that often.  We’ve learnt to spot the signs
of one that could be dangerous,
and this
lot
is sending up every red flag in the book.”

“Yeah,” Alexander agreed, “it’s too much to write it off as coincidental.  There’s got to be more to this.  We’ll keep digging.  If there are any breakthroughs, I’ll let you know.”  He left a few minutes later, having refilled his plastic cup with bourbon and raising it with a smirk in Gabi’s direction.

Gabi had been toying with broaching a nagging, but delicate subject with Julius.  She knew she needed to do it sooner rather than later, but asking for help was never easy for her and admitting a weakness was a hairsbreadth from impossible.  She gritted her teeth and took the plunge.

“I need your help with something,” she told Julius.  This was going to be hard to say out loud.  She made a concerted effort to stop fidgeting and face him.  His face was impassive, patient, but she could see the intrigue in his eyes.  “I need to work on my…problem,” she finally mumbled.  “The anxiety attack…thing.”  She saw the understanding dawn in his eyes.  She rushed on.  “It occurred to me tonight that it could be a serious risk to me and my team if that happens in a dangerous situation.  We need to fix it.”

“Fix it?  This isn’t something you can apply a wrench and some tape to, Lea,” he warned.  “Are you sure I’m the right person to be helping you with this?  Wouldn’t a trained counsellor be a better idea?”

“NO,” she said vehemently.  “No one else can know.”  Panic filled her at the thought.

Chapter
12

“All right,” he agreed soothingly.

She forced herself into a modicum of calm.

“When would you like to start working on it?”

“Now,” she said firmly.

“You’re sure?” he asked her, concern narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, the sooner we fix this, the better.”  She was emphatic.  In one of his freaky Vampire moves, he was suddenly right in front of her.  He put his hands on either side of her face and tipped her chin upward to look at him.

“We are not trying to fix a broken car, Gabrielle,” he warned again.  “This could take time and may not work without a professional’s help.”  An indignant protest rose in her throat, but he moved his thumbs over her lips and stopped her words. “We will try, but you will need to have patience, and I know that isn’t one of your fortes.”  A faint smile tugged one corner of his mouth.  “There will be setbacks.  You need to realise that now.  Accept your mind’s limitations; what it’s doing is to protect you.  Fighting it will only make your recovery more difficult.”

She knew what he said made sense, just as she knew her mouth was set in a stubborn line.

“How about we try it first before we worry about the negatives?” she suggested.  She didn’t have weeks and months to get this sorted out, she was going to prove him wrong.

“I have some conditions,” he said.  His fingers had slid around to thread into her hair, holding on just tight enough to keep her face tilted up towards his.

Her teeth clenched together in annoyance.  “What conditions,” she demanded, though his thumbs, tracing paths up and down her neck, were making it hard to concentrate.

“I set the pace.  When I say it’s enough, then it’s enough.  No arguments,” he said.

“But—” she began to protest, but he interrupted her.

“No, this is not up for negotiation.  If you want me to do this, it’s my rules.”  His face was set in intractable lines.

She narrowed her eyes, glaring up at him.  “Fine,” she finally agreed sullenly. 
“Stubborn fucking Vampire.”

The tension left his face, and he allowed a hint of a smile to escape.  He caught her lips briefly with his own and then released her.

“Give me five minutes to clear the house,” he said and disappeared at Vampire speed, leaving her alone.

She scowled at the empty room.  Then she went back to the bar, going around behind it to investigate what else it held.  She had a sudden craving for something stronger than wine.  Though alcohol never made her drunk, with some effort she could achieve a state of mellowness.  It was enough that she understood why some humans drank it even though they didn’t always appreciate the taste.  While she doubted she’d enjoy the sensation of being completely drunk—not being in control of her actions and reflexes terrified her—she occasionally liked the way slight intoxication took the edge off for a short while.  She figured that taking the edge off would be a good way to start her therapy.

“Ah ha,” she said with satisfaction as she found a full bottle of excellent quality tequila.  There was nothing worse than bad tequila.  Poking around in the bar fridge rewarded her with a fresh lemon and a quick trip to the dining room, where Alex had been working, produced a salt shaker.  She wondered briefly how long the salt had been in the pot, but decided old salt was better than no salt.  On her way back another idea occurred to her, and she knew if she’d had a halo it would have just slipped down to her ankles.  It only took her seconds to set up her plan.  Back at the bar counter she found a stock of shot glasses and lined six of them up next to each other.  She sliced the lemon, cracked open the tequila, and filled the tiny glasses. She’d just picked up the salt shaker when Julius strode back into the room.

“Mexican courage?” he asked, amusement quirking his lips.

“Come over here, and I’ll teach you how to do body shots,” Gabi purred.

He looked a little bemused but came to join her at the bar.  He was too tall for her to get to his neck easily, so she hopped up onto the counter next to the tequila shots and pulled him closer, settling him between her thighs.  She pushed his shirt aside and licked languorously over the hollow above his collarbone,
then
she shook a healthy sprinkle of salt over the wet spot and snagged a slice of lemon.

“Hold this,” she said, shoving the lemon rind between his lips.  He took the lemon from her fingers with a little nip.  His fangs were already more prominent than normal.  His eyes had started to darken to midnight.  She resisted the need to wrap herself up in him and reached for the first shot.  She leant forward and swept her tongue over his smooth skin, lapping up the salt, spreading the taste throughout her mouth.  Then she knocked back the shot of tequila, revelling in the familiar burn as it coursed down her throat and into her stomach.  He held quite still as she brought her face close to his and bit into the lemon, their lips meeting as she drew the slice from his mouth.  Evidence of his arousal pressed against her.  With a wicked smile, she pulled his shirt away from the other side of his shoulder and repeated the exercise.  She moved onto his wrists and the sensitive inner skin of his elbows after that.  As she took the last slice of lemon from his mouth, he groaned.

“I—
”  His
voice came out at an unfamiliar pitch, and he tried again. “I thought we were supposed to be working, not playing.”

“Oh, but we will be working,” Gabi assured him.  “Another six of these and I’ll be perfectly ready to start my therapy.”

He closed his eyes and tried to step back from her, but she wrapped her legs around him and locked them together, so he couldn’t move unless he took her with him.  She grabbed the tequila bottle and started refilling the shot glasses.

“Another six of those and the only thing I’ll be ready to do is throw you on the nearest table and make you scream,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Delicious shivers ran down her spine, and she very nearly gave in.  Only one thought kept her from pitiful surrender.

“Hmm,” she murmured speculatively, “a table.  That’s a good idea.  If you lie on a table, I can lick the salt from more interesting places.”

He groaned.  She unlocked her legs and pushed him backwards, giving herself room to hop down from the bar.  With an evil glint in her eye, the tequila bottle in one hand and the salt shaker in her back pocket, she kept moving him backwards until the back of his legs collided with one of the hardwood coffee tables.  He allowed her to push him down onto it, his hungry eyes never leaving hers.  She pushed him flat, setting the bottle on the floor next to them, and straddled his body.  She leaned down and gripped the collar of his shirt in her teeth.  With a quick jerk she ripped it partly open.