Lover's Bite (9 page)

“You were suicidal,” he said. “Only instead of a gun, you were using a bottle.”

“Many bottles,” she corrected.

“So what happened?”

“It's a blur. I only remember it in small bits, like a puzzle with most of its pieces missing. I remember a woman gathering me up from the dust and into her arms. It seemed odd, how easily she lifted me. I didn't weigh much at that point, but she wasn't much bigger than I was. I remember her breath on my throat. Her hands were so soft, and so cold. And her voice was just a whisper, but one that got through to me and gave me comfort, somehow. When I woke, I was in my bed in the room I had rented. The windows had all been completely covered. I felt so different. Not sick or weak, but strong and powerful, strong like I'd never felt, even before I got sick.”

“It's a rush in the beginning, isn't it?” Jack asked.

She nodded.

“And the woman who brought you over?” Jack asked.

“Gone,” she whispered. “All she left me was a note.”

He was turning the car into the driveway of Avalon by then. And even as he shut it off and killed the headlights, Topaz was digging in her handbag. She pulled out an old-fashioned silver cigarette case, with the initials MD engraved on its face.

“Was that your mother's?” he asked.

“Yeah. I've had it forever. I never smoked, so I use it to keep special things in.” She opened it, and though she kept it turned toward her, he glimpsed the little cards that had been attached to the flowers he'd sent her on occasion when they were dating. She'd kept them. God, he really had meant something to her once.

“Here it is.” She took out a folded sheet of paper and snapped the case closed, returning it to her purse. “You want to read it?”

He nodded, and she handed it to him. He unfolded it there in the dark, intimate interior of the car. He didn't need lights to see. He glanced at the resort stationery, and then at the elegant scrawl of the handwriting.

Jack refolded the paper and handed it back to her. “She didn't even sign it.”

“No. And she abandoned me. But I was used to abandonment by then. And at least she didn't take my wallet with her when she left.”

He winced at the barb. “I probably deserved that.”

She only shrugged, making no move to get out of the car.

“You know, our stories aren't all that different,” he said.

She said nothing, just sat still, waiting, so he went on. “My father died when I was a kid. I don't even remember him. My mother was a drunk, pretty much worthless. I raised myself, for the most part. When I was eight, she dropped me off at her brother's for an afternoon and never came back.”

Her head lifted slowly, her gaze turning to focus on his. “You were abandoned, too?”

“Yeah. And Uncle Frank was none too happy about it—not at first, anyway. But I was a smart kid. See, Uncle Frank was a confidence man, old school. I picked up on that, and one day, when we were in the park, I made sure he was watching and then went up to some kind-looking woman with a broken waffle cone I'd found on the ground. I cried about how I'd used my last fifty cents to buy an ice cream, only to have it fall apart and melt on the ground. She handed me a dollar, patted me on the head and told me to go get another.”

She was gaping now, lips slightly parted, eyes wide.

“Proudest moment in my life was when I walked up to Uncle Frank and handed him that crisp dollar bill. I remember how it smelled, and how he smiled as he took it. Then he took me by the hand—first time he'd ever done that. And he said, ‘Boy, I think this just might work out after all, you and me.'”

“And you've been conning people ever since,” she said softly.

“Women. I've been conning women ever since. Mostly.”

She shook her head slowly, reached for the car door, pushed it open.

“If I'd known then what I know now, Topaz, about you and your past, I never would have conned you.”

“That's not the question, though, is it?” she replied. She got out of the car, closed the door and walked toward the house.

He followed quickly and caught up. “If that's not the question, then what is?”

She stopped walking and looked up at him. “You don't know?”

“No. Tell me.” The wind was moving her hair gently, and the stars seemed to reflect in her eyes.

“The question is,” she said, her voice softer than before, “without the con, would you even have given me the time of day? Would you have bothered with me at all?”

He blinked and decided honesty might be the best course here. “I was looking for a mark, Topaz. Not a romance.”

She turned away, moving toward the house again.

Again he caught up, then opened the door before she could and let her go inside ahead of him.

“But if I
were
looking for…that…you'd be the one.”

“Not anymore I wouldn't.”

Her cell phone rang before either of them could speak again. Jack had a lump in his throat and a knot in his chest, and he was damned if he knew why. He'd been honest. He wasn't looking for love, hadn't been looking for it in the past when he'd met her, and he sure as hell wasn't looking for it now. It would be pointless to look for something that didn't exist.

She yanked out her phone, glanced at the screen, then flipped it open. “Reaper?”

And then she listened, and as she did, her eyes met Jack's again. But it wasn't hurt that shone from their depths this time, and it wasn't the sparkle of nighttime stars. It was suspicion.

“W
e're being followed again,” Reaper said.

“Are you sure?” Topaz wasn't as much surprised as she was worried. “I thought you said you'd lost them.”

“We had. That's the point. Someone must have tipped them off to our location. And the only people I told were our people. You, Seth and Vixen, Roxy and Ilyana.”

She lifted her eyes to spear Jack with a steady gaze, having no doubt he could hear every word of the conversation. Could he have been the one? “How sure are you about Ilyana?” she asked.

“We barely know her. But I do think she hates Gregor as much as the rest of us do, having been his captive. Don't you?”

“Yes. But we know she has other motives. Secrets she's keeping. Who knows what they might cause her to do.”

“Hang on, Topaz. Got to check something out.” And then he switched from speaking aloud, to speaking mentally. She knew he was allowing his thoughts to be heard only by her, and she quickly blocked her own mind to keep Jack from listening in.

We have to at least consider the possibility that it could have been Jack.

She thinned her lips.
All right. What do you suggest we do about it?

Tell him I'm heading to Pennsylvania. Say…Philly. I'm not, I'm actually going to the western end of the state to meet with some vampires who might be able to help us with this situation. But you tell him Philly. I'll have someone watching. If the CIA end up in Philly, we'll know.

Did you tell anyone else about this plan?

No one.
And then he returned to speaking aloud again. “Sorry. It was nothing. Here's the address where we'll be spending the next day or two.”

She nodded slowly, committing it to memory as he recited the phony address. “Philly, huh? Ring the Liberty Bell for me, will you?”

“Thanks, Topaz.”
I hope to God I'm wrong.

I do, too.
“Goodbye, Reaper.” She disconnected, a thumbnail to a button, then slid the phone back into the holster that rode on her slender hip.

Jack was studying her closely. “He okay?”

“You must have heard. The CIA spooks nearly caught up to them again. He can't figure out how they knew where he was.”

“They're the CIA, that's how.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Well, they're heading to Philadelphia. We've got this safe house out there. Vampire-owned, usually vacant, safety features built in—”

“The one on Mariposa. I know it.”

“I figured you did. I just hope those assholes don't find them again.”

“Me, too. Or if they do, that they're still a few steps behind.”

She narrowed her eyes on him.

“So who's the next daddy candidate on your list, hmm? The actor or the mobster?”

“Wayne Clark Duncan's last known address was all the way down in Laguna Beach, so he'll have to wait for tomorrow night. The mob guy, though…”

“What?”

“Well, it's a Saturday night. According to the police reports, he's a silent partner at a nightclub not far from here—or he was, then, anyway.”

“I think a night out is exactly what you need,” Jack said with a smile. “Besides, I'm starved.”

“I don't have anything stored up. Maybe we could go find a blood bank or a hospital on the way?”

As he thought, the dimples in his cheeks deepened, making her gut tighten and clench. She found it extremely difficult to believe he would betray Reaper for money. And then she wondered why, when he'd done it to her. And why it was she had some idiotic desire to trust him again.

“What would you say to a good old-fashioned vampire hunt?”

“Human prey?” She widened her eyes at him.

“We don't have to
kill
them. Come on, it would be fun. And this nightclub, if it still exists, should provide a ton of potential victims.”

She smiled slowly. It was her nature to relish the hunt. It couldn't be helped. “We erase their memories afterward?”

“If you insist.”

“I'm in.” Then she glanced down at her attire. “But if we're going to do this, we really need to, uh, dress for dinner.”

His smile was quick and bright and devastating. And everything in her reacted to it, just as it always had. She ran upstairs to change into an elegant, full-length dress, scarlet, with a slit up one side that would make Jack's eyes pop. She lowered her head, shaking it slowly. What was wrong with her? She shouldn't want to make any part of Jack pop.

But she did. And in spite of their history, in spite of the fact that he'd already proven himself untrustworthy, she still didn't believe he was informing on Reaper. She couldn't.

 

The club was called The Underground, and it didn't look like a mob hangout. Music thrummed from inside, strobe lights flashed blindingly through the windows, and the last thing Topaz wanted was to go inside. So instead they struck up a conversation with the doorman to try to find out what they needed to know.

As they'd approached him, Topaz had flashed a smile and a good bit of thigh as she said hello.

He looked her up and down, unimpressed, then picked up a clipboard. “Names?”

“You won't find them on the list,” she said.

“You aren't on the list, you don't get in. Move along.”

She pursed her lips. “I didn't want to go in, anyway. I just wondered, didn't this place used to be owned by Tony Bonacelli?”

His head came up slowly, and he met her eyes. “Who's asking?”

Topaz held his gaze and exerted the full strength of her will. “
I'm
asking. And you're going to answer me. You
want
to answer me. You want to tell me anything I need to know. You know you do.”

He blinked, looking dazed. “Tony Bonacelli's been dead for five years. His son Vic owns the place now. Took over the…family business.”

“And is Vic here tonight?”

“Yeah. He's here with his girl. Tiffany Skye.”

Tiffany Skye. The name rang a bell. “Should I know her?”

“She's done a few movies. Recording a CD now.”

“Right,” Topaz said. Another of the young blond celebrities who appeared to have gained fame for no apparent reason. “I really would like to talk to them. Are you sure you won't let us in?”

“Yeah, if you want, but they're leaving. I just called for the limo. It'll pick 'em up around back.”

“Why, thank you, Bruno. You've been very helpful.”

“Name's Dave,” he muttered.

“I don't particularly care.” She placed her palm on his cheek. “You're not going to remember any of this conversation, Dave. Not even that it happened.”

He didn't answer as she turned and walked away, Jack falling into step beside her. Once they were out of sight, she released the bouncer's mind from her control. From around the side of the building they watched as he frowned, blinked and looked around, clearly aware that something had just happened, but at a loss as to what.

The vampires stalked the night, moving silently through the shadows near the rear of the nightclub. Or at least, they were silent when Topaz could suppress her occasional laughter—and it was odd that she could laugh at all, but Jack was right. She was having fun. Stalking, hunting, using her vampiric powers to elicit the information she needed—it gave her a rush. Vampires, for the most part, had become far too civilized. Most rarely embraced their nature these days.

“It's a shame Bonacelli's dead and gone,” Jack said.

“There's still hope. He might have let something about my mother slip to his son. And if this Vic knows anything, he'll tell me.”

“Oh, I believe it. You had Bruno eating out of your hand.” Jack shrugged. “Then again, he
is
male.”

He sent her a wink, and she averted her eyes. She loved flirting with Jack. Always had.

He nudged her with an elbow. “There's a limo skulking toward us,” he said. “No headlights.”

“That's a good sign. She's a celeb, so they probably want to be discreet.”

Near the rear door, which had Dumpsters flanking it, they waited as the limo pulled to a stop.

Eventually the club's back door opened, and a young starlet staggered out, a hot-looking Italian on her arm. He was, Topaz guessed, twenty years older than she was, but he didn't look it. Both of them were wasted, though, and she was pretty sure Tiffany was underage.

Topaz met Jack's eyes, and he nodded. This had to be Tiffany Skye and Vic Bonacelli.

They stepped out of hiding, blocking the couple's path. The drunken pair came to an unsteady halt, looking at them, false smiles beginning to falter. Vic's hand instantly moved toward his side. Topaz felt the rush of Jack's power as he stopped the motion with nothing more than mental force.

“You want to invite us to ride with you in the limo,” Topaz said softly. “You're compelled to.”

“She's right,” Jack said. “You need someone you can trust to be sure you both get home all right. And you know the driver's probably on some tabloid payroll. But you trust us.”

“You trust us more than anyone,” Topaz added.

The couple's smiles had died completely by now, and their eyes seemed vacant.

Jack slid his arm through Tiffany's, which was about as big around as a pretzel. Topaz did the same with Vic, pleased to feel some decent biceps lurking beneath his shirtsleeve. Smiling and chatting as if they were old friends, they walked toward the limo.

The driver emerged to open a rear door, glanced at Vic and asked, “Mr. Bonacelli?”

“These are friends of ours, Ralph.” He spoke in a monotone, his voice without any hint of inflection. “They're going to…”

“See you home,” Topaz told him.

“Yeah. They're going to see us home.”

“Yes, and put the divider window up, Ralph,” Topaz said, sending him a killer smile. “We have private things to discuss.”

“Very well.”

He held the door as the four of them climbed in. They settled in seats facing one another. Jack sat beside Tiffany, Topaz beside Vic. The driver got in and put the car into motion. A second later, the divider window, darkly tinted, rose with a soft hum.

Topaz turned to the man. “So you're Vic?”

“Yeah,” he said, staring into her eyes, mesmerized.

“You're Tony's son?”

“Yeah.”

She patted his hand. “And you're dating an actress. Like father like son, I guess.”

“I guess.”

“I think your father knew my mother. She was an actress, too. Mirabella DuFrane. Have you heard of her?”

He nodded, his gaze still stuck to hers like glue. “Everyone's heard of her.”

“Well, yes, but I meant—did your father ever speak of her? There's a rumor they were lovers.”

Again, he nodded.

Impatience jabbed at her, but she fought it down, took her time. “What did your father say about her, Vic? I'd really like to know, and I know you want to tell me.”

He nodded slowly. “He put a hit out on the guy who killed her. Called a sit-down with the other bosses. Put up a million bucks to the guy who could take out Mirabella's murderer.”

Topaz felt her brows rise as he spoke those words. Tony Bonacelli would hardly have done that if he'd been behind her mother's murder. Dammit.

“Did anyone ever collect on it?” she asked.

“No. The offer stands to this day. He made me promise to see it through.”

She swallowed and glanced at Jack, who was gently moving Tiffany's platinum curls behind one ear, exposing her slender neck.

Don't take too much. She's bird-sized.

Yeah, I noticed that.

She focused again on Vic. “Did your father ever tell you that you might have a sister out there, Vic?”

“You mean Mirabella's baby?”

“Yes. That's who I mean.”

“He told me once that he wished she was his. But the timing was way off. He didn't say more than that.”

“I see.”

Jack was looking at her again.
Let's get on with this and get out of here, Topaz. We got what we came for.

She nodded. “Vic, you know what a rush you get from drugs? Like ecstasy?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm gonna give you an even bigger rush.” Topaz leaned in to brush her lips over the guy's neck. She found it corded and firm. Nice. “You want this. You know you do. Just relax,” she whispered. “Close your eyes, and let your head fall back and rest against the seat. Oh, it'll be so good for you.”