After he had been turned, Remmy had found him in New York and had debriefed him to exhume every last detail about the gang that Alex could possibly remember, for Remmy to use against them. When Alex had realized that Remmy was a lawman and had been his entire life, stretching back to the very early eighteenth century, then he had been more than willing to help Remmy disassemble the gang.
Even though Remmy had never reported back, Alex had heard that the gang who had killed him had mysteriously disappeared.
That was the last time he had heard from Remmy or had heard about him, either. He had assumed that whatever the older vampire was doing, it would be on the right side of the law. Moral correctness was built into Remmy’s bones. It wasn’t a great surprise that Remmy was down here, sorting out the cartels.
If he wanted to go chasing off after his lady friend, Alex wasn’t going to stop him. He didn’t have to. The Trinities had their own ways of sorting things out. They used the power of the thing that Beth had started calling Terra and sometimes Gaia. The power of the world.
So Alex nodded. “Fine. Go sort it out,” he told Remmy. “You can track me down once you’re done.”
Remmy looked at him suspiciously. “No argument? You always ran at the tongue a mile faster than anyone I knew.”
“I’ve learned a thing or two since then,” Alex assured him.
“And what are you going to do while I’m gone?” Remmy asked. His suspicions were still high.
“I’m going to round up the locals, wherever they are out there, then find them a safe place and seal them in. That will force the vampeen to find something else.” It was the truth, just not all of it. Alex gave Remmy a sincere smile.
“Very considerate of you,” Remmy said dryly. He backed up a step, blending back into the shadows. “Don’t even think of following me,” he added.
“I’m not,” Alex said, glad he could be truthful about that. He didn’t have to follow him. The compulsion that had brought Alex to Mexico would tell him where to go next. It was also guiding Remmy, even though he didn’t know it.
Time to let the bonding do its magical and powerful work.
* * * * *
The open-topped jeep that Ángel drove was a battered vehicle with a powerful engine and good tires. Octavia gripped the roll bars and hung on as Ángel drove it over the stony ground. In the still night, the engine seemed to roar, making her wince. From how far away could it be heard? Were they drawing attention?
They weren’t alone in the night, that was for sure. Whoever had done the screaming had woken up the entire town. In the magical way that word of mouth worked, the news about the slaughter spread. Soon, there was a heavy line of people hurrying out of
Manuel Benavides
, heading for the rocky hills and bluffs of the Santa Elena Park. Out here, it was easy to get so lost that no one would find them. The townsfolk all knew the land well for a few miles beyond the town. They could find a place to hunker down and wait out the danger they knew in their bones was coming.
When Ángel had driven the jeep two miles out of town along the dusty road the townspeople were using, he’d pulled it off the road and headed into the wilderness. Their speed had dropped down to a crawl. He used the low gears to climb in and out of gullies and over stones and hillocks.
He seemed to know where he was going, so Octavia instead considered what lay behind them as she looked around the stark, dry and beautiful country. The high bluffs ahead were coated with snow at the top. The snow was glowing in the moonlight and she could almost smell the crisp coolness of it, even though down here on the valley floor it was a mild night.
Would Severo come after them? Would he be able to track them? He was not a hunter…at least, not of game out in the wild. Only, the big treads of the tires would leave distinct tracks that would be easy to trace in this dusty and sandy country.
“We should get rid of the jeep,” she said.
“And fly there?” Ángel asked, sounding amused.
“Walk. At night. It’ll take us a couple of nights, but it’s easier to hide out here without a bright blue vehicle flagging where we are.”
Ángel fought the wheel as the jeep climbed over a big stone and jigged sideways. Octavia clung to the bars as the jeep tried to shake her out of her seat.
“We’d probably make better time, too,” she observed.
He tapped the dashboard in front of him. “Nearly out of gas,” he said. “We should drive while we can, then walk.”
“You were planning on walking, all along.”
He nodded.
“Hey, you know, if you want my help getting over the border, you need to start talking to me.”
He seemed amused. “Your help?”
“Do you even know how to make a fire without matches?” she asked.
“Where do you plan to find the firewood around here?” he shot back, his amusement out in the open now.
That shut her up. There was nothing around here but sage bushes, dried out clumps of grasses and stones. Lots of stones.
“If we see a tree, we should take wood with us for later.” She had to lift her voice over the sound of the engine. “It will get cold, higher up.”
“A blanket would be better,” he shot back.
Octavia closed her mouth and hung on.
* * * * *
The jeep ran out of gas three hard miles later. The low gear work and climbing up and down every single little fold in the land, with the engine snarling, had used up the same amount of gas a hundred miles on open highway would have used.
The engine quit with a sigh and the silence of the land dropped down around them like a soft blanket.
Ángel got out of the jeep with a single step of his long legs, ducking under the roll bar with an easy movement. He walked around to the back of the jeep and hauled a heavy metal toolkit closer.
Octavia peered in hopefully as he opened it. “They’re just tools,” she said, disappointed.
“What were you hoping for? Another knife?”
“An Uzi would be nice.”
He rolled his eyes. Then he picked up a big wrench and held it out to her. “Here. Hit someone with that hard enough and they’ll go down.”
She hefted it. “Can I try it on you?”
Ángel ignored her. He rummaged through the toolbox instead and pocketed small items. He was wearing a thick cotton jacket with big pockets that would carry a lot. Octavia, on the other hand, was wearing what she thought of as her “Severo’s whore” clothes—a lacey bra and sheer tank top, lots of jewelry, tight jeans and boots with heels. She was lucky they were western heels, not stilettos. Walking would be bad enough even so. She would give anything for a pair of hiking boots with thick treads and heavy toes.
It was no wonder Ángel was ignoring her. She was the mistress of his brother, the man trying to kill both of them. It was a completely understandable attitude, yet it still irritated her.
She pushed at his arm, turning him so he was looking at her. He looked startled.
“I’m not some whore you can just shove around when you want and ignore the rest of the time,” she said.
His gaze flickered over her, from head to foot.
“I know what I’m wearing,” she snapped. “Don’t look at that. Listen to what I said.”
“It’s hard to not look,” he said calmly, “although if you think I don’t listen to what you say, you’re wrong.” He went back to the toolbox.
“Ángel.” She said it impatiently.
He spun to face her again, only this time, he grabbed her and pushed her up against the back of the jeep, so that the small of her back was pinned against the metal. For a moment, he studied her, then he kissed her again.
The whoosh of feeling, this time, was like a hot jolt of electricity. It tore through her and she moaned into his mouth. She had never felt this heat before. Not even when she was in bed with someone she wanted to be with. It seemed to burn up through her body from her toes, igniting
everything
. Her body throbbed with need and for a moment she could think of nothing except to get as much of him as she could.
Ángel let her go and almost staggered back a step.
Octavia pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. “Jesus!” she whispered. “I want to fuck you so badly…and you’re not my type. What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know. I prefer my women to be feminine and biddable…and blonde.”
She cleared her throat. “Glad we got that sorted out. So tell me why I can’t stop thinking of kissing you again?”
He swallowed. She could see his throat working in the moonlight. His black eyes gave away nothing. She hoped he could read just as little from her own face.
“We can’t afford to do this,” he ground out. “Getting distracted will get us killed.”
Octavia nodded. “You’re right.”
“Finally, she sees sense,” he muttered. He pointed toward the big bluff ahead of them. “On the other side of that bluff is a farmhouse. I know the owner. We can get supplies. A blanket.” A smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Some firewood,” he added. “Maybe even a lighter to go with it.”
She rolled her eyes.
“We head to the house,” he continued. “Then we head due north and keep going until dawn. In the meantime, keep your hands off me.”
Octavia laughed. She couldn’t help it. “What, or you’ll put me over your knee?”
Even though she had intended it to be a jibe, the image of her lying over his knees, her bare ass exposed to him, caught at her throat and made her clit pulse. She could almost feel his big hand sliding over her ass cheeks, the fingertips pressing between….
“Think you can stop yourself from touching me?” she asked and her voice was hoarse.
He reached into the back of the jeep, pulled out a flat-brimmed hat in plain, unadorned black and put it on. “I can’t seem to stop thinking about tearing that bra off you and exploring with my mouth. At the same time, I have no intention of letting my brother destroy the rest of my life…or yours, either. He’s done enough.” He dug in his pocket again and held out her knife. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She slid it back into her boot.
“Let’s go.” He turned and started walking.
Octavia followed him. Now she couldn’t get the image of his lips on her out of her mind, either.
Sera arrived with her arms around Wyatt and Diego. She was carrying a half-filled coffee cup and half of a slice of toast in her hands, as well.
“I guess it’s breakfast time in New York,” Alex said, as they separated.
Wyatt kissed him. “Mia is pissed,” he warned, his voice low. “I had a devil of a time getting her to let me come without her.”
“For the sake of my nerves, I’m glad you won that argument,” Alex said, deep relief trickling through him.
“I can see why,” Wyatt said, looking at the bloody mess in the middle of the courtyard. “Only, I don’t think I won. You know what she’s like. She’ll get around us somehow.”
“As long as she does it from the sofa in the apartment in New York, she can be as sneaky as she wants to be,” Alex said.
Wyatt shook his head. “She’s just scared.”
“That’s not like her,” Alex said slowly, his heart giving a little, hard thud.
“You great lummox,” Diego told Alex, his tone pithy. “You’re back in cartel and gangland, where you got yourself killed the first time around. You’re really wondering why she’s scared?”
Wyatt grinned and shrugged when Alex glared at him.
Diego pressed his toe against the remains curiously. “Vampeen damage. The locals really think it’s a dude with a knife who did this?”
“There’s no other explanation that comes close to making sense for them,” Alex said.
“There are
teeth
marks,” Diego pointed out.
“The biggest carnivore around here is the size of a football,” Wyatt added. “That is, if you’re not including vampeen on the list.” He looked around. “They were here for a reason.”
“The reason has gone,” Alex said. “The bond will catch up with him, anyway.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
“East, by the feel of it,” Alex replied. He drew still, considering his instincts. “Yes, east.”
“So we’re not hunting vampeen at all, then?” Diego asked, sounding peeved.
“I guarantee that where the trinity are, the vampeen will be, too,” Alex said. “We find them, we find the vampeen.”
“So we follow your reason east,” Wyatt said, quietly. “What about the other two? Do you have any idea where they are?”
Alex consulted his instincts once more. They had been speaking to him with increasing volume the last few hours. Diego and the others were right. It was impossible to misinterpret what the force, what Terra, wanted him to do. “They’re east, as well. He’s running straight at them.”
“How about that,” Diego said, with a little smile. “Terra is herding Remmy right to where she wants him to be. That’ll knock his ego down a peg or two.” He sounded very pleased with the idea.
“Like it knocked the stuffing out of you, Diego?” Alex asked.
Diego didn’t even blink. “I don’t mind sharing the pleasure.”
Wyatt handed Alex the guns he preferred and the rig he used for them, pulling them out of the little duffel bag he was carrying. “So. East,” he said.
“East,” Alex agreed.
* * * * *
The first streaks of dawn were starting to show in the east, when they finally saw the homestead ahead of them. The buildings were bathed in shadows cast by the bluff behind it. There wasn’t a single light showing anywhere in the buildings.
“Figure your friend is home?” Octavia asked Ángel’s back.
He was tireless, trudging along without comment and without slowing or pausing. She had kept up with him. It had taken effort and she was parched and dying to sit down and strip off the pretty boots. She was seriously considering walking barefoot. It couldn’t be any worse. Sharp rocks and pebbles seemed to bite right through the soles of the boots and into her feet.
“He’s not a friend. He’s just someone I know,” Ángel said.
“A friend of your father’s?” Octavia asked, alarmed.
Something moved out of the corner of her eyes and she whirled to look properly. “What was that?”
Ángel glanced over his shoulder toward the coming dawn. “Dawn winds,” he said dismissively.