Authors: Colleen Gleason
His gaze fell to the couple. “They’ve been tortured.”
She nodded in agreement, but had to work at swallowing again.
When he shifted his gaze back to her, she found it hard to breathe. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but like hell she was going to look away first.
She knew the game. Vampires valued strength above just about everything else and one thing the battling of his kind had made her:
She was damn strong
.
His jaw worked and his eyes narrowed as he finally shifted his gaze once more to the couple on the pavement. “So what do we have here?”
Iris looked at the wrecked bodies once more. “I have no idea.”
He waved a hand toward the woman. “And she’s a witch.”
“Yes. Sadie Thompson. She worked at the Tribunal, though in a different department.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t know her well, but I understand she was a good, hard working woman.”
He glanced at Iris, his lips twisted in disgust.
Right. Vampires hated her kind as much as she despised his. In his view, there was no such thing as a
good witch
, so what did he mean by hovering above her house as often as he did? Was he spying on her?
He walked slowly toward the bodies, scowling. Leaning down, he pulled the hair back from the vampire’s face then let loose with a long string of obscenities.
Connor knew him.
“He’s a Border Patrol officer, isn’t he?”
“Yes. Jason. He’s only been missing a couple of days. I thought he just needed to let off some steam. Christ, who would do this to a BP man?” For the most part, even the drug-lords let the officers alone, except to bribe those they could, of course.
She frowned at Connor. Was he on the take? Somehow, she doubted it. A man who would carry a runner to a clinic wouldn’t take bribes.
The earliest questions resurfaced in her mind. Why had both she and Connor been called to Sentinel Bridge?
Connor stared down at Jason, his chest tight. All Border Patrol officers made enemies, usually a member of one of the Five Bridges cartels.
But it was rare for an officer to be killed outright. Connor knew of instances where officers simply disappeared never to be seen again. One thing the drug bosses excelled at was keeping a low profile.
Which made this incident a quandary. There was nothing subtle about two dead bodies on Sentinel Bridge.
He squatted on his haunches to get a closer look. There would be no forensics team. His world didn’t bother with serious investigations. And as far as the human world was concerned, every citizen of Five Bridges could go four-hooves-up and no one would give a damn.
But Connor needed at least a few questions answered. “Iris, I’m going to have a look at Jason. Just a warning. You might want turn your back.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
He glanced up at her. The woman had strength. Another thing he liked about the witch, damn it.
Reverting his attention back to his fallen comrade, he slid his hands under Jason’s back then tilted him onto his side. He held him in that position, not wanting him to fall forward.
What he saw made his stomach churn. Jason had been hung up on meat-hooks then beaten with something more than a pair of fists. Metal pipes, maybe. Other deep cuts went past his waistband. He didn’t want to think about where they led.
He carefully laid Jason back down. He couldn’t hurt him now, he was long dead. But he felt a profound need to be gentle. He took a couple of deep breaths, an ache in his throat.
He examined Jason’s hands for other signs of torture. His nails were intact though several of his fingers were broken. He also had a red, half-heart tattoo between his forefinger and thumb.
Curious, Connor glanced at the witch’s hand.
And there it was.
He stood up. Was it possible? “Holy shit,” he murmured.
“What?” Iris moved in closer.
Connor waved his hand between the bodies. “These two were involved.”
“Why on earth would you say that? Wait a minute, what did you see?”
“They have a shared tattoo, two red half-hearts. If you put them together, you get a whole.”
Iris shifted to have a look herself, then returned to stand once more beside Connor. She shook her head as though unable to make sense of what she’d seen. “But that would mean—”
Apparently, she couldn’t even speak the words. Truth was, he had a hard time saying it as well. “They were lovers.”
She shook her head again, harder this time. “No, that’s not possible. He’s a vampire.”
He totally got where she was coming from. “And she’s a witch.” He met her gaze and a strong current passed between them.
He felt as though a pulse of energy kept hitting his sternum repeatedly. She must have experienced something similar because she drew in a soft stream of air and immediately folded her arms across her chest as though protecting herself.
“Are you trying to enthrall me?”
Her eyes popped wide. “No. God, no. I would never do something like that.”
“But you could.”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t.”
He believed her which meant he was in serious trouble. He trusted the witch and his instincts told him this bizarre thing between them was mutual.
“You knew I was at your house tonight, didn’t you?”
She huffed a sigh. “I did.”
“Were you always aware? Each time I came to you?” He’d gone past counting the number of times he’d hovered above her garden, making liberal use of his spotting scope.
She nodded slowly, frowning. “Yet, you never approached me or tried to hurt me. The visits seemed harmless enough.” Her eyes glittered.
“Fuck.”
“What’s going on, Connor? I don’t get any of this? Why you’ve been spying on me or this strange attraction between us. I mean, did you arrange to have me brought here to Sentinel?”
“I don’t have those kinds of connections or power.”
“Well, why did you start coming to my house in the first place? I don’t get it?”
He turned toward her and took her arm in a firm grip. He felt a flow of energy race up and down his arm, something he couldn’t explain. “Because of this. Do you feel it?”
She nodded. “It’s some kind of visceral reaction. So you’re saying you were at my house because you’re attracted to me, even though I’m a witch.”
“
Despite
that you’re a witch.”
She stared at him for a long moment. She was so beautiful with her large brown eyes and high cheekbones. For a weird moment, he saw down the years and she was with him, really with him.
Which seemed impossible. He couldn’t be with any woman, not after what he’d done in No Man’s Land.
When he released her, she didn’t move away from him, but kept looking at him.
“What?”
“I don’t know what this is between us, but it feels very old as though it’s always existed.”
Her words reminded him that she was a witch, one more reason a relationship with her could never work. He shifted his gaze back to Jason.
“Connor.” Her voice was low, compassionate.
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have pushed things.” He gestured to the bodies. “What we need to figure out is how you and I are connected to this murder.”
“I think you’re right.”
Connor thought about Jason. He’d known him for at least fifteen years. He then considered Tammy for a moment and the similarity to Connor’s killing of the pregnant woman.
“Shit.”
“What?”
“I don’t know if the two things are connected, but Jason was with me on another night a long time ago. An incident involving an un-
altered
human who was pregnant like Tammy. This woman, whose name I still don’t know, had been set-up. At the time, I was acting instinctively and when she turned with a gun in her hand, I shot and killed her. Jason was there. He was with me that night.” He didn’t add that the event had ruined something inside him.
He couldn’t look at Iris. Most of the time he felt normal, or as normal as a vampire could ever feel. But when these memories intruded, darkness engulfed Connor. He’d become something he despised, a killer of the innocent. He was unworthy of any good thing this life could offer.
Staring back at him, in the form of these dead lovers, was love, something he would never know, not in this life. He wasn’t deserving on any level.
Suddenly, Iris clutched his arm. “Connor!” Her voice carried panic.
He turned to her. “What?”
She released his arm and spread her hands wide, but stared down at her feet or maybe at the bridge pavement. He knew witches sometimes had a sixth sense about things. “What’s going on?”
She met his gaze, her dark eyes panicky. “The stones of the bridge structure are talking to me. I know you don’t trust me because I’m a witch, but can you levitate us the hell out of here? This bridge is going to blow.”
He didn’t think twice, but picked her up and shot into the air. He flew straight up and as he did a deafening boom shattered the night sky. The resulting force blasted him hard, propelling him higher and higher. Bridge shrapnel bruised him but good. He could feel his pants getting ripped to shreds, though his boots seemed to be holding steady.
The witch held him tight, both arms wrapped around his neck, her head buried against his shoulder. Flying pieces of pavement kept hitting him, most ricocheting off the bottom of his boots. They had to be delivering up some hurt to her as well.
“How you doin’?”
“My ass. Jesus H. Christ, that hurts!”
He had no idea who’d set the bomb, but he was pretty sure it was meant for him and for Iris, too. What he couldn’t figure out was why. Who would want them both dead?
***
Iris trembled for more than one reason. She hurt, the bomb had scared her to death, and she had her arms wrapped around Connor. And he was the source of way too many fantasies that could never be fulfilled.
“Can you loosen your grip?” he asked, his voice sounding hoarse.
“Yes.” She slowly released the stranglehold.
The truth was, she’d never flown before and the sight of the earth so far below freaked her out.
His voice rumbled against her ear. “I’ve got you.”
For some reason, those exact words and in the man’s low timbre did something to her, made her wish her life was different.
Made her wish he was anything but a vampire.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this close to a man, any man. Her life in Elegance Territory and as a TPS officer had left her hardened, displaced, and alone.
“I take it you haven’t been in the air before.”
“No.” The word came out on a squeak.
“Don’t look down. It’ll be easier that way.”
This had all been too much. She was flying for the first time and a Trib assignment had resulted in an explosion on Sentinel Bridge. But equally unsettling was the discovery that a witch she knew had taken a vampire for a lover.
All this, in less than an hour.
She was also cut up and had to spend a lot of her energy healing the wounds on her backside and legs.
As Connor continued to fly her north, she kept her gaze fixed on the distant line of lights, where Phoenix still thrived safely beyond a heavily patrolled border. It was only a couple of miles away, but might as well have been separated by an ocean.
“Where are you taking me?” She knew they were well inside Crescent Territory. She could also feel he’d begun his descent.
“My place. I’ve got a few cuts and bruises I need to get fixed up and my pants are shredded. How about you?”
“My butt hurts and I’m feeling the cold air where I shouldn’t.”
She felt him chuckle as he descended in front of a townhouse, landing on the front porch.
Once on solid ground, she found she had a hard time letting go. The muscles in her arms were stiff from holding on. She dragged them off his shoulders and shook them out.
She’d almost died back there.
And now she owed Connor. She stared at him, trying to form a sentence to offer her gratitude, but all she did was purse her lips. Nothing would come out.
Connor frowned at her. “You’re in shock. Let’s get you taken care of. I have a nice Cabernet Sauvignon, if you like wine.”
“Thanks.” She lifted a hand, staring at it. She was shaking bad. “Jesus.”
“It’ll pass.”
She looked up at him. “You’re not upset?”
“Oh, I need some wine, too. But I’ve been in a lot of over-the-top situations through the years. Border Patrol isn’t for sissies.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.”
Connor slid his arm around her waist as he guided her inside his home. The kitchen was opposite the slate tiled entrance. It was very spare-looking in stainless steel, dark wood cabinets and a black granite island. The dining area was next with a small glass table and four chairs. On the far wall was a large poster of a motorcycle she recognized.
“A Ducati,” she murmured. Her voice sounded dull to her own ears. Yep, shock.
“You know bikes?”
“Some. Especially the café racers. It’s either been beautifully restored or is in unbelievable condition.”
“I owned one before I went through the
alter
. When I had it shipped to Five Bridges, it was gone within a week. Somebody stole it, probably to use the money for flame drugs of one kind or another.” He drew a deep breath. “I’ve acquired a couple of others since, a Honda and a Kawasaki. But one day, I hope to locate and restore a Ducati.” A faraway look entered his eye. She thought she understood, especially when he added, “That is, once we have some kind of order in Crescent and the other territories.”
He moved into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of wine from a tall rack housing at least twenty bottles.
“Do a lot of drinking?” She meant it as a joke, but her words came out dull and weird.
He glanced at her over his shoulder, frowning. “No. You?”
She sighed heavily. He’d just saved her life. For that alone she should cut him some slack. “I thought it would sound funny but it didn’t. Sorry.”
He lifted a clear glass goblet to her. “You’re allowed.”
As he poured, she moved close to the island and took the glass. She sipped then moaned. “Oh, that’s good.”
But her throat closed up unexpectedly and she leaned over the island, a sob erupting from her throat. She set her goblet down and planted her hands over her face because she started crying for no damn good reason at all.