Nightfall (36 page)

Quinn didn’t want to hear it, but he bit out the words. “And
that is?”

“Staying alive,” Dix said bluntly. Then he cut the
connection.

Quinn put the phone down. For a few brief seconds, he sat in
the truck, staring at the empty road, the open land around him. In the distance
he could see cattle grazing. His hands would already have been up a couple
hours, their day well started. He longed to be out working the cattle today,
feeling the simple pleasures of sweat and hard work. Anticipating the pleasure
of a butterfly landing light on his hat, fluttering around his face so close
she sometimes brushed his lashes with her wings.

But today he had other things that had to be done. The hands
knew how to manage without him when needed. They knew what was expected of
them.

As far as what was expected from a servant, Dix had been
pretty damn clear about that. Quinn was supposed to sit on his thumbs and do
nothing except clean the blood off his Mistress. But Quinn couldn’t do that. He
couldn’t get past it, couldn’t not act. The whole world would be better without
this bastard in it. He’d never taken a man’s life, never even contemplated such
a thing, but there was a code a man lived by, and standing back when some
bastard beat the ever-loving shit out of the woman he loved wasn’t part of it.

So where would a vampire who believed New York City was the
center of the universe decide to stay? He’d compromise his standards big time,
staying anywhere in Nightfall, but he’d want to stay close to Selene. Because
of his age, he’d be like Butch, not needing to be underground in daylight, but
he’d need a place where his privacy was guaranteed, where he could make it full
dark during the day. There weren’t a great many hotels around Nightfall that
would work for that, but Quinn could think of one location that was ideal.

He clicked open his phone again, looked up information.
After the operator put the number through, the phone rang several times. Just
when Quinn was about to curse, the line picked up, an older man with a smoker’s
growl answering.

“Morning, Don,” he said, with a casualness he didn’t feel in
the least. “I figured you’d be minding the desk early. Hey, did you rent out
one of your cabins to a fellow out of New York? Yeah, I have some business to
conduct with him and I thought he mentioned your place, but I dropped his darn
card while working yesterday and wanted to make sure I had the right place to
look him up…”

It was a long shot, but his instincts had been sound. His
fingers tightened on the phone as Don verified that four men meeting that description
had checked in under the name Claudio Beringer. They’d rented two of Don’s
cabins.

After he concluded the call, Quinn put the truck in drive
and headed for Last Chance, his mind whirling. There were four of them, but
three were vampires. They had to sleep during the day. Ironically, Claudio
would be his biggest danger. He remembered how much stronger Dix had been, the
benefit of him being a third mark longer, but he also remembered what Dix had
said about the vampire hunters who had succeeded.

Skill, subtlety. Cunning.

As dumb as it sounded, since he was connected to a vampire
himself, he wished he knew the number for one of those hunters to get more
input, but he’d figure this out. Yeah, he preferred the Sherman tank method,
but he could do the unexpected. If it increased his chances for success, he’d
become the most cunning bastard that ever lived. Laurent had weaknesses.
Sunlight. Arrogance.

His mind full of ideas, he accelerated. He had to get some
things from the ranch, get off property without Annette giving him the third
degree and be onto Don’s property as soon as possible. Daylight was burning.

“They rented the ones on the far end of the property,
Quinn,” Don had said. “You can get there from the service road I use for the
landscape maintenance, save you having to take the main drive.”

Even with planning, he’d have to think on his feet, adapt to
whatever situation he found when he got there. Laurent liked having an
entourage, being the head guy. So would he share his space with the other
three? Quinn was pretty certain he wouldn’t bed down with two vampires he
considered his underlings.

Again, Claudio was the wild card. Would Laurent want his
servant near while he slept, or would he relegate him to sleeping with the others?

A vampire might keep his servant in the same room to watch
his back during daylight, particularly in a new environment. Or would he? He
didn’t see Laurent having the same relationship with Claudio that Quinn had
with Selene. If Laurent figured there was little danger to a vampire here in
the middle of Nowhere, Texas, and the door could be bolted to keep out maid
service, maybe he’d want to underscore Claudio’s underling status by having him
stay in the cabin next door. After all, Claudio could just as easily keep a
daylight lookout out the window over there.

Quinn remembered how he’d been given a second room at
Butch’s, connected to Selene’s, leaving her the choice to make him sleep
elsewhere.

In some ways he’d been sorry to hear about the two-cabin setup,
because he’d love to take out the whole bunch. But he wasn’t a complete
testosterone-driven moron. He’d heard what Dix said. Taking out one wasn’t
going to be easy, so it needed to be the right one. His specific bloodlust for
Laurent aside, everyone knew the head of the snake was the most important part.

Don’s info about the service road had given him the idea for
his approach, which was good, because in this part of the world there wasn’t a
lot of thick tree cover for stealth. He’d thrown some tools into the back of
the truck, changed into a serviceable T-shirt and jeans. He looked for all the
world like a contractor hired to do maintenance.

As he bumped down the dirt and gravel access road, the
cabins came into view, the early afternoon sunlight limning the rustic
buildings. He stopped about a hundred yards from them. The cabins were spaced
about that same distance apart. The two rental vehicles parked between them
supported his theory about Laurent’s belief in class division. One was a black
Suburban, the kind of thing you’d have your hired men drive to look
intimidating and official. The other was a luxury Mercedes. He’d probably had
Claudio do the driving while he rode in back. What an asshole.

Getting out of his truck, Quinn moved to the open bed and
took his time pulling tools out of it before sauntering to the fence line. In a
few minutes he’d started work on replacing the predictably rotted section of
split railing that formed a dubious aesthetic border between the properties.
Don wasn’t known for keeping up with grounds maintenance.

Hearing the door to one cabin open, he glanced up. Since the
olive-skinned, golden-eyed man stepping out was doing so into full sunlight, he
deduced this was Claudio.

“Mornin’,” Quinn drawled. “Hope I didn’t wake you, sir. Just
had to get this fence post replaced before the boss drove me crazy about it.”

Claudio had stopped, was studying him closely without saying
a word. His tawny-brown eyes were flat as gold coins, as steady as a special
ops military vet with a side dose of sociopath. A spear of trepidation shot
through Quinn as he abruptly remembered Selene had said both vampires and
servants could detect the scent of another vampire. Could Claudio detect the
third marking? Or just her scent?

“If you’re staying in town long,” he added casually, gauging
the depth he needed to sink the fence post, “I’d highly recommend the After
Hours Saloon. The bar manager and waitresses there are awful pretty to look at,
and they serve good food and drinks at reasonable prices. I was just there last
night. Damn near had to throw me out at closing, because I never wanted to
leave.”

Claudio’s expression eased, and Quinn bit back a sigh of
relief. Giving him the impression he’d brushed up against Selene had helped.

“At the moment, I’m looking for something close by where I
can go grab a fast breakfast,” the man said.

Right. Claudio had to eat, and Don’s fifty acres of rustic
cabin retreats didn’t offer room service. Don would scoff at the mere idea.

Quinn suppressed a fist pump. Not only was he getting rid of
the one person who could handle sunlight, but if Laurent felt comfortable
enough to let Claudio go seek his breakfast, that made it even more likely he’d
had him bunk down with the other two vampires.

“That would be Elaine’s. No more than a couple miles up the
road.” Quinn nodded in that general direction. “Stay away from the Southwestern
omelet. Give you gas for days.”

Claudio had no reaction to that. He obviously wasn’t much on
talking. As Quinn pulled the old post free, he started whistling, ostensibly
paying attention to nothing more than the job he’d been hired to do. Thank God
he was familiar enough with Don’s property to know what might need repair,
because when he pulled up the post the base was so rotted it crumbled.

Since he could sense Claudio still watching him, Quinn
lifted his head.

“Looks like he let this go way too long, doesn’t it?” he
said, as if he thought Claudio was just watching him work out of idle
curiosity. He took pride in his ability to maintain a casual façade while rage
boiled furiously inside him. Claudio had stood by while Laurent tortured
Selene, probably even helped. Quinn wanted to wrap his hands around the
servant’s throat, choke him until his eyes bulged, then force him to drag his
Master out into the light that was so damaging to him. But getting him out of
the way would better help him accomplish his real purpose.

When a vampire dies, the servant dies.
Remembering
Selene’s words, he knew if he took out Laurent, he’d have the satisfaction of
killing Claudio at the same time. The most violence Quinn had ever indulged
toward another human being had been a barroom brawl. He’d been in a few of
those, and most ended with all of them sharing a beer. Killing a man was
something a man did only if there was no other choice. But he’d never come home
to find someone he loved mangled almost beyond recognition, by men who then
checked into a hotel and contemplated breakfast the next day as if it meant
nothing. As if she meant nothing.

To his way of thinking, the moment Laurent had raised a hand
to Selene, he’d decided to die. Quinn was just going to help him on his way.

Seemingly satisfied, Claudio made a noncommittal noise and
moved toward the Mercedes. Quinn returned to his work, not looking up as
Claudio got into the full-size luxury rental car, turned the engine over and
pulled away on the gravel drive.

Quinn kept working a good five minutes more, even though
every part of him was screaming to move, move,
move
.

He studied the two cabins out of the corner of his eye.
There was still a chance he could be wrong, but as sharp-witted as Claudio had
seemed, there was no way Quinn could have risked asking more pointed questions.
Either way, Quinn had the advantage now. The three in those cabins, whatever
their distribution, couldn’t survive sunlight.

He’d stayed at Don’s a couple times when he was with a
one-night stand from town he didn’t really want to take to his home and risk
Annette’s disapproving frown in the morning. While he wasn’t proud of those
lonely couplings, he was glad of it now, because he knew Don hadn’t changed the
layout of the cabins in years. It was basically a kitchen unit, a sitting area,
the bed and a TV. The curtains were thick and could be drawn to keep out the
light and heat, but both cabins had east-facing front windows. Big ones, a
whole three-set panel.

Quinn went back to his truck, pulled out the items he needed
and strode back up the walkway. As he closed in on the cabin Claudio hadn’t
exited, the slouching saunter of a contractor disappeared from his gait. He
tuned out everything, just like when he was about to put his ass on the back of
a bull. He focused all his energy on his strength, his wits, his unwavering
belief that he could and would make those eight seconds count.

He didn’t let himself think about what he was about to do,
about how far it was from everything he’d always been. This was for Selene. All
he had to do was remember her crumpled form and, even more, remember how she’d
asked his forgiveness for getting all shaky and weepy in his arms. He
approached the cabin with stealth, keeping an eye out just in case Claudio
returned early. His footfalls were nearly silent, like when he approached a
crazed cow trapped in wiry bushes. All his senses were on high alert. He tried
to blank out everything but the task at hand, but by the time he reached the
front of the cabin, all he saw was red, and all he felt was that fury again.
He’d ride it like he used to ride those bulls, and hang on for well over eight
seconds.

Hefting the hoe he’d brought, he jammed it into the window,
breaking the glass, making a wide sweeping motion with the handle to clear a
hole with it before he reached in and tore out the blinds and curtains. He
moved fast and smooth, like he did when bringing down a calf. No hesitation, no
looking until he jumped back and hefted the other thing he’d brought from the
truck. A repeating rifle.

He saw the movement inside as the sun blasted through, a
shadow that moved fast from the bed, headed for a corner, but he could only go
so far. Quinn fired into that corner and, sure enough, luck was with him. The
shadow hit the corner at the moment the bullet did, spinning the vampire
around. Quinn kept firing, advancing on the window, making that shadow jerk
again and again. A snarl of pain reached his ears that sounded more like savage
lion than man.

As the male dropped to a knee, Quinn was standing right in
front of the window. He swung himself over the sill with one lithe movement,
flipping the hoe so he led with the jagged end he’d broken ahead of time. In
another two strides, he was upon the bleeding male. He saw the flash of fangs,
the crimson light in his eyes as the vampire surged up from the floor, but he
was weakened, stumbling. Intending to take advantage of that forward momentum,
Quinn seized the back of his neck to shove him right onto the business end of
that hoe handle.

Then pain exploded in his head and the world went dark.

* * * * *

“Wake up.” The sharp order came with an equally sharp
reinforcement. His cock and balls were in agony, his ass on fire.

Quinn lifted his head. The screaming ache in his shoulders
told him his feet were off the ground even before the rest of his stretched
body did. In the moonlight he could make out several men watching him. His
wrists were tied to the top rail of the five-slat fence, his ankles to the
lowest rung of it, all of him off the ground, his waist and chest bound to the
middle slats rails with no regard for circulation or comfort. Nothing like
Selene might have done it, with the intent being restraint for mutual pleasure.

He was stripped naked though, his nether regions out there
dangling in a terrifying way. No, not dangling. All of a sudden, he realized
why it felt like his cock and balls were wrapped up in barbed wire. They
fucking were. Blood crusted the tender flesh. He couldn’t stop twitching
because on top of that, his ass felt like acid had been poured down inside of
it. He convulsed against the pain just as he felt the hands pulling away from
him, finishing whatever they’d just shot into it to wake him up.

Making the nightmare even worse, whatever they’d put in
there made his cock start to harden against those sharp edges. He snarled, bit
back a cry of pain. Even if he swallowed his tongue, he wouldn’t give them the
satisfaction. Especially not to the male standing about six feet in front of
him eyeing his cock and balls like he was considering having them for dinner.

Fuck. This was Laurent. If the Gucci shoes and expensive
haircut hadn’t told him that, the air of Prince of Darkness and malevolent
satisfaction in his expression would have. But beneath that was a chilling
level of rage.

Yeah, Quinn had guessed wrong about the cabins, because this
wasn’t the vampire he’d nearly staked. But he’d still done damage, gotten
closer than a puny human was supposed to. Which meant the Prince of Darkness
was majorly pissed.

They’d knocked him out hard. Or maybe they’d kept knocking
him out until night fell and they could arrange to display his body like a side
of beef in front of their overlord. He was still feeling dizzy and nauseous,
and had an odd craving for Selene’s blood, as if it would be a tonic for the
pain. Maybe her blood restored his health the way his could hers. Something to
ponder when he had more time, though he had a feeling his future was very much
in doubt.

Christ. That burning in his ass accelerated, and his cock
swelled to an even thicker size. He bit down on his tongue to keep from crying
out even more, but he couldn’t keep himself from writhing, even as his nausea
increased at the obvious sexual pleasure his discomfort was causing his enemy.
Laurent was sporting an erection under those nicely tailored slacks.

As horrible as the pain was, Quinn found his gut cramping
even more at having his sexual responses turned against him. He didn’t even
want to think what ultimate purpose Laurent would have for that.

“It was a credible plan,” Laurent observed, his dark eyes
lifting to lock on Quinn’s face as it contorted with pain, as his body writhed
in the bonds. “When Claudio returned to find how you’d disturbed Mike and
Ernesto’s rest, he thought you might be a vampire hunter, but once I took a
nice long whiff, I could smell her all over you. Little Selene finally took a
servant. She sent him to try to assassinate me.”