She was
fucking
him. It was obvious. She told Jack she wasn’t, but she was. Had to be. Lucas had gripped her ass, pulled her up against him, and all she’d done was wiggle closer.
How
could
she? After what vampires had done to her mother? To Jack’s family? Even her father. Everything she had seen and knew should have made that relationship an impossibility. He couldn’t trust her. She said she hadn’t slept with him and he didn’t believe her.
But he knew just who to ask.
An hour later, Jack was looking up at Rachel’s apartment window from the street below. She lived on the second floor in a good part of Rome. At least, it was one of her addresses.
All the curtains were open, and he could hear music coming from inside. She walked by the window, and Jack watched as she took a sip of wine, then made a gesture—like a toast—but he couldn’t see who she was with.
Was someone up there with her? She’d told him she was alone.
She took another drink, and then shook her head, giving another toast. Her back was stiff, posture straight. Then she raised her arm and throw the glass, heard it shatter as she laughed harshly.
He sighed. Vampire chicks were even more fucked up than human ones.
Jack trudged up the stairs, checking his weapons as he went. Just in case she wasn’t alone.
And what if she is alone? Do you need that gun then? You won’t shoot her, will you?
He knocked loudly, pounding his fist against the door, so she could hear him over the music.
Rachel opened the door instantaneously and stumbled a little, like she’d moved too fast with her super-vamp-speed. Her lips were red, and she wore a white camisole that had a few drops of wine spilled down the front. Must have been a hard night. Her pupils were wide and dilated, her cheeks flushed as she breathed rapidly.
Drunk.
She took a breath and frowned. “You smell like the little hunter girl. That’s odd. I’d have thought she’d be…
otherwise engaged
.” She made a motion for him to enter and wandered away, giving him her back.
“
Do you know her name?” Jack asked.
Rachel gave him a coy look. “You want me to say it? Should I get a wig, too? Little Valerie Dearborn. Oh yes, I know her name. I’ve talked to her. We go way back.”
“
Has she been fucking him?” he asked, unable to wait or use any subtlety.
Rachel laughed.
“
Yes or no,” he growled.
She took a sip of wine. “If she came running back to you after the shit that went down tonight, then my guess is no. But honestly, I’m not surprised Lucas screwed it up.”
Jack was still standing, watching her as she sat on the couch, rolling the glass of wine between her palms. He crossed his arms, unwilling to sit down or move in any direction. He just needed answers. “He’s doing
something
with her.”
She shot him a glance under her lashes. “Well, yeah. Have you seen him? Geez.” There was a pause while she refilled her glass. “So Val came back to you? Lucas is gonna go nuts.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “You better lock that down.”
“
Excuse me?”
“
You heard me. He’s a hot, hot man. With lots of experience. A bit cold, it’s true. Probably not up on all the TV shows, but once they hit the sheets, you don’t have a chance. If she’s come back to you, you better lock that down, sew it up—do something vaguely domestic with her.”
“
Why hasn’t he slept with her?”
Rachel made a snorting noise, then said “You men. How do you know
she
hasn’t slept with
him
? Maybe she’s the one stalling.”
Jack scrubbed his hand across his face wearily. “I wish that were true. But that’s not how it appeared. He…
fuck
…I don’t think she’s the one saying no. Let’s just leave it at that.”
She leaned forward a little and said in a conspiratorial voice, “Well, they don’t actually let me into the bedroom with them, so I couldn’t say. And I’m not exactly his favorite person at the moment. I don’t know why he hasn’t shagged her. But count your blessings and move fast.”
He could feel his jaw lock in place. “What makes you think I’m going to get involved with Valerie?”
“
Oh, please. The two of you? It’s like that show, the one where the two of them are supposed to get together, but never do.”
Despite himself he asked, “Which one?”
She scowled. “I don’t know. They’re
all
like that. Doesn’t matter. Point is, Lucas apparently let her slip away, and she’s come back to you, right?”
He nodded, forced the words past his lips. “Yeah. She’s come back to me.” He watched as she stood and went to the kitchen, opening cabinets, shirt pulling taut over her breasts as she stretched. She pulled down a wine glass and came back, filling it, then handed it to him and sat across from him, a coffee table between them.
“
She chose you. Congrats. Let me know how that works out for you,” she said tonelessly. Rachel gulped the wine.
Jack muttered, “It’s going to be a fucking disaster.”
“
I feel like there are undercurrents to this conversation, but it’s only you and me, so how about you fill me in on what I’m missing.”
“
I’ve done it. I locked her down. We’re going…away. I guess.”
“
And where do young people go these days to be unapologetically in love? Fort Lauderdale? Tijuana?”
“
Hawaii,” Jack said in a dead voice.
Rachel coughed, wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and leaned closer to him. “Oh shit. You’re serious. You and the little hunter girl are going to Hawaii? You have more game than I thought you did. Guess I know who to come to when I get back out into the dating world.”
Jack was staring at the ground, her comments getting no reaction.
“
Seriously. How is that possible?” Rachel asked.
Jack looked up, had to swallow before he could speak. “I’m honestly not sure how it happened.” He took a sip of the wine. It was smooth, finishing with hints of chocolate. The whole thing seemed a bit surreal. He’d come here for a purpose and it sure as hell wasn’t to tell Rachel about his love life.
Christ. What is my reason for being here?”
Do you think he’ll come after her? Or me?”
Rachel looked around the room, head tilted to the side like she was thinking carefully. “No. My guess is that he will leave her alone for a while. And you? Well, shit, if you died, she’d think Lucas did it, right? You’re probably safer than you ever have been.” She smiled, and it chilled him.
“
But if he loves her, he won’t let her go.”
Rachel slammed her glass down on the table and leaned forward. “Hold up! I never said love. He’s not
capable
of love,” she hissed the words. “He’s a vampire. A really…
old
…vampire.” She enunciated the words harshly. “He wants her, but he’s not going to…
pine
over her, write poems about her or anything. Who knows, he might even forget all about her.”
Jack briefly wondered what had gotten her so upset, but he didn’t care enough to ask. “Why her?”
“
She’s pretty. Spunky.” Rachel hedged, leaning back and wrapping her arms around her flat stomach.
“
Why her?” he asked again.
“
No idea. And that’s the truth. He’s been very hush-hush about it.” She smiled at him like they were high -choolers gossiping. It made him want to shoot her. “But do you know that no one has been allowed in Northern California without his permission for years now? Isn’t that where you both grew up?”
“
You think it’s because of her?” He felt his trigger-finger twitch.
She shrugged, swinging a leg back and forth lazily.
That was a shock. All this time? Had Lucas been interested in Val for
years
? He put the thought aside, something to torture himself with late at night and every waking hour.
“
I hear Marion is in a box.”
“
You hear correctly.” She made another toasting gesture with her wine glass.
“
But she’s not dead.” His gaze roamed the room, then back to her, like she might strike out at him if he looked away for too long.
The place was modern. All chrome and glass. Very impersonal. Except for a stuffed animal—panda to be exact—that was sitting on the couch. And there was a fire in the fireplace. She’d been burning things.
Jack stood, walked closer, seeing half-singed papers and photos that hadn’t made it all the way into the fireplace. Like she’d thrown them carelessly.
A picture of Rachel in a tux, the photo black and white, at least fifty years old was on top. She held a cane and had a top hat perched on one side of her head. It was pretty in a peculiar sort of way. Another picture was mostly charred, but he could see Marion’s face, only half-destroyed. He had a visceral reaction to it. Felt sick, cold…
afraid
. As though time had slipped away from him, putting him right back to the day his parents were murdered.
“
Good times, huh?” She came over to him and held out a glass of wine for him.
He took it absently and continued to look down at the burned images. “What were the papers?” he asked roughly.
“
Love notes, dirty limericks, tax bills. All the normal shit one accumulates over time.”
He shook his head a little. “This looks final. But she’s not dead.” He looked at her hard, hoping his anger and hatred were banked tightly enough that she wouldn’t see it.
“
She’s dead-ish. There was just about nothing left when he put her in that coffin. It’s like she’s in a coma. And she’ll die soon enough. Lucas won’t let her out of there.”
Jack felt oppressed, as if he was sinking in quicksand. He had to ask, didn’t think about why. “What were you to her?”
A big moment of silence. Rachel looked at him from under her lashes, almost coy. “Are you armed? I don’t want you to shoot me for an unpleasant answer.”
“
I’ve had a lot of bad answers tonight. I’m pretty numb to it,” he said, facing her head on, absorbing every square inch of her harsh beauty.
“
Yeah. So, what was I to Marion? I was her girlfriend and her keeper. Anyway, I’ve been alive since 1905, and Marion has been my responsibility since 1927, when Lucas gave her to me. And just so you know—the summer of whenever it was? 80-something? Italy? I wasn’t there.”
It was like she’d punched him in the gut. She referred to the summer Marion killed his parents casually, as if they’d almost gone to the same concert or vacation destination—something trivial rather than the defining moment of his life.
Jack wanted to kill her. But he wouldn’t. He was cool. Contained.
Numb
. He’d stay that way. Everything was a lie with a hint of the truth. Rachel, Valerie, Lucas—all of them had him as their mark it seemed. As though this were some elaborate shell game. If he could just keep his eyes on the prize, watch their deceiving hands move fast enough, he might guess right.
“
That’s…. You were with her almost a hundred years.” The numbers were boggling. A hundred years with Marion. What sort of woman did that make her? He just didn’t know. Jack couldn’t figure Rachel out. Heaven help him, since the night they’d first met—when she came to him offering to get him a crack at Lucas if he crashed a vampire ball—he’d tried.
“
Yeah, sometimes it felt like longer, but most of the time it was pretty good.”
“
Why did Lucas give you to her?”
Rachel moved close to him, in his face. The perfection of her features was even worse up close. She wasn’t just pretty, she was traffic-stopping beautiful. Her voice was sharp. “You misheard. Lucas gave her to
me
. If I hadn’t wanted her, he would have killed her. I’ll save you a question or two. I’m a witch. Very rare. Very valuable. Marion was like an offering from Lucas to me.”
“
Why would you try to kill him, then? If he’s been so good to you?”
“
It wasn’t really my plan.” She shrugged.
“
But he left you alive.”
She ran a hand through her short, straight hair. “I’m a witch. He needs me.”
“
Why? For what?”
He moved away from the fireplace, standing several feet away from her.
“
Do sit. Hostess with the most-ess.”
He shook his head and stayed where he was.
“
He’s got a plan. Have you heard of the Fey? Werewolves? They’re real, but extinct. They’ve been gone for centuries. He wants to see if they’re still around. It’s so stupid.”
“
Why is it stupid?”
“
He fucking killed them all! You don’t apologize for that—it’s cheeky,” she said, which seemed to him like a bit of an understatement. He supposed that was why she said it.