Aaron's Kiss Series Boxed Set (Books 1 - 7) (79 page)

“Understandable. I will take the young woman with me then and will contact Aaron when she is able to move on her own. I will send someone for her things, if that is acceptable to you. Is there anything you can tell me about her? What she was doing in Paris?”

Not that it mattered, really. Aaron had sent him to Paris to save the young girl, and that he’d done. Whatever else happened was going to be all on Tristan.

“Yes, of course, I’ll have everything ready when they come. She is armed, or was. I’ve never seen so many weapons on one person in my life. She had two, no, three guns, a couple of lethal-looking blades, switchblades I guess, a tazer, and a few cans of really strong pepper spray on her. Inside of the lockers were more guns and ammo, even a few sticks of dynamite in one of them. Each one of the identifications we found has a permit to carry a weapon with it. She’s powerful, as I’ve said, but I don’t know what she is.”

Pete hesitated and Tristan was almost afraid for her to continue. “How did you meet her? I mean, if you fought, I can only assume you didn’t know her from before.”

Tristan felt one of the guests from the hotel start to come out onto the patio just in front of them. He sent him away with the thought to make love to his wife instead. Humans needed the comfort of touch and Tristan was merely giving it to him. Besides, they didn’t need any more witnesses to this.

“She warned me that I was in trouble and that the man I was using as a translator had been lying to me. She was able to hold an entire restaurant in thrall while she shot, killed, and beheaded a man without being noticed. I have since found out that there was a warrant out for his arrest. He was considered armed and dangerous. And according to my source, police were to shoot on site. I don’t know how she managed to get the jump on him, as she had made sure I was safely out before she did it. Oh, and she speaks Italian. Very well, as a matter of fact. As for being in Paris, I don’t know for sure. I’m sure it had something to do with the man from tonight.”

Tristan merely nodded. He was still trying to figure out what to do about her and had only heard about half of what Pete had told him. He was still trying to come to grips with what the woman was to him. And also what he was going to do about it.

“Tristan, I’d be very careful when she wakes up. She is a mite demanding. And she can be rude when the mood suits her, which seemed a great deal of the time.” He heard the laughter and the seriousness in her voice and wondered about it.

“Yes, I will, but she won’t be able to hurt me. Thank you, Pete. I’ll be taking her now.” He reached down and picked Bailey up, cradling her in his arms tightly. He dematerialized both of them away seconds later.

~~~

It wasn’t until a man who identified himself as Anthony, second butler to the St. James household, had gathered the girl’s four bags and drove away that Pete finally understood what Tristan meant. The woman he had just saved, the woman who she had almost killed, was his mate. Pete nearly laughed herself into a stupor all the way home and wondered often what she smelled like to him.

~CHAPTER FOUR~

Bailey woke up in a dark room. She started to move to get up when a searing pain rushed through her body, a moan escaping before she could stop it. She reached out and found that she wasn’t alone in the room. There was a vamp in the room with her. A male.

“The pain will lessen in a few hours. Then it will be gone altogether very soon, I would guess. Would you like some help getting up?” The voice was across the room, which was too dark for her to make out just where or who the voice was.

“Where am I?” She moved again, slower this time, and finally got her legs off the side of the big bed. She sat still, fighting against the overwhelming pain so that she wouldn’t pass out, but she really had to work at it.

“Impressive, young lady. You must hurt very badly right now. I wouldn’t have thought that there was any way for you to move much less sit up for several more days. My son brought you here yesterday. You were damaged very badly. Cover your eyes and I’ll turn on a few lights.” The voice had a hint of humor, and class.

Bailey couldn’t have lifted her hands to cover her eyes if her very life depended on it, so she just closed them tightly against the sudden glare, and even that hurt some. After a few moments, she opened them a little at a time until she could see again. She gently turned her head to where she thought the man had been sitting and sucked in her breath. There sat the most handsome man she’d ever seen. She looked away. Men like him made her nervous. Actually, all men did.

“Damaged? You said I was damaged, what does that mean? And how did I get here? The last thing I remember was fighting some she bitch in a hotel in Paris.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I meant to say injured. Humans are injured, my kind is damaged. The bitch, ah, that would be Pete Marshall, I assume. She called her master and he sent my son as he is able to move through space very quickly and was there visiting. He healed you and brought you here to mend, err heal. You are still in Paris, in our home. It’s Tristan’s home actually.”

“I don’t know…Tristan? I don’t know him, unless he’s one of the people hanging out with this Marshall chick.”

“No, no, Tristan is a vampire, a pure blooded one at that, and as I said, my son. He should be returning soon. He needed to make a quick…he was thirsty, you see.”
Thirsty, good thing to call sucking the life out of someone,
she thought.

She finally stood up, swayed slightly, and would have fallen if he hadn’t flashed to her side to catch her. Before she could think, she jerked from him and cried out as the pain again tore through her. As she was falling into a black void to escape the pain, she heard someone yell out. She didn’t think it was her, nor the man she’d been talking to, though it was definitely the voice of a male.

This time, when she woke up, Bailey took a survey of herself and the room before she moved. The pain was manageable, barely. Bailey reached out into the room and found a female sitting in the chair this time. She didn’t bother with conversation. She could feel the woman’s gentle probe into her mind. Bailey knew she wouldn’t get much, just what she wanted her to have. Bailey managed to turn over and sit up before the woman spoke.

“My name is Abby St. James, and you are?” The room brightened with candlelight in gentle increments, instead of the flare of overhead lights. Bailey knew immediately this room was different than the one before. It was darker and there were no windows.

Instead of answering, Bailey wanted her things. “I had some stuff. The other woman, the one from the hotel, said she got it all. I’d like it please.”

“I believe it’s all here with the exception of your arsenal. Tristan has taken that to the safe in the other wing of the house. There are clean towels and a new toothbrush in the bathroom. I’ll wait here, and then we’ll talk.”

“Whatever.”

Bailey hobbled to the beautifully appointed bathroom. It was as big as most hotel rooms she stayed in when working. Of course she tended to stay in dives, but still, it was huge. The double vanity was the length of the room, about ten feet. There were high gloss cobalt pottery bowls sitting under the long necked faucets instead of sinks. The lights around the mirrors were soft and reset into the wall behind them. There was a deep pool, not a tub but an actual pool with a water fall coming from somewhere above with plants hanging from different heights. When Bailey ran her hand through the water, she found it to be very warm, almost hot and smooth. Unlit candles surrounded the pool, sitting on rocks and nestled in plants. Next to it was a shower stall that four people could easily stand in, with jets at different levels and overhead. As much as she wanted to strip down and sink down in the pool, she reached into the shower and turned on the water. The sooner she was out of here, the better.

Fifteen minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom. The aches and pains had lessened to the point where she didn’t limp. And if need be, and it would have to be a big fucking need, she could defend herself. Her hair, always a pain most times, had cooperated and was now pulled back into a tight French braid that hung damp past her hips. The woman, as promised, was still waiting for her.

“I need to leave. While I appreciate your hospitality, I will be going.” Bailey began gathering her things up and setting them on the chair next to the big bed.

There wasn’t a bag, but her pants gave her enough places to stash things so she wasn’t overly concerned. Clips went into various pockets, the blades clipped to her belt, as did two of the OC spray canisters. The rest of her gear fit into hidden pockets here and there throughout her clothing. The woman, Abby, she’d called herself, hadn’t said a word.

The woman had to see that Bailey was neither nice nor human. She was defiant and strong, incredibly so. Bailey also knew she should have been out for another couple of days at least, but here she was, a mere twenty-four hours after having been thrown from a third story balcony, making demands and expected them to be granted.

“This Tristan person, do you think he’ll let me get my stuff later? I have things to do today and I don’t have time to wait on him while he drains some unsuspecting woman. Or man if he’s into all that.” Bailey knew enough about vamps to know they liked sex with their dinner. Sort of like a meal and a show, she supposed.

“Have a seat, please. I believe you and I have some things to discuss. I don’t have your guns, as I’ve said, so you’d have to wait for Tristan to return to get those anyway, so you might as well relax for a while.” Abby indicated the chair across from her before she smiled and continued. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“No, I didn’t. Sorry, lady, but I don’t do social. Night.” With a flick of power, Abby St. James slumped in her chair.

Bailey found her things laid out in very neat piles on the table in the room. Everything was clean and folded in pristine order, stacked, and smelling fresh. Her shirts, all black and all t-shirts, were lying on top of her jeans, also all black. Her socks, which she had never mated together, the only reason why she always bought the same kind, were not only folded by pairs but stacked end to end. Her panties and bras, the only real things she spent any money on, were spread out, not rolled up, as if the person who put them there was trying to see how they would look on someone. W
hatever
, she thought with a mental shrug. Her other items, toiletries, passports, all seven of them, were put into pile of use, bathroom stuff all together, purse stuff, if she bothered to carry one, together. She simply reached out, grabbed one of the biggest bags she carried, and scooped it all into it without a thought to how messy it would be again. Stuff was stuff, and who cared what it looked like so long as it covered what it needed to and was clean?

It took her about twenty minutes to navigate the sub levels. She discovered why there was a pool; they were below ground a good ways and deep into a cavelike structure. After she had had to back track twice, she finally made her way to a set of narrow stairs and up to the main floor. She reached into this level and felt that there wasn’t anyone about in this part of the house. And from what she could feel, the house was massive.

She managed to leave the house and the grounds without anyone seeing her. She knew that the outside security cameras would pick her up, but there was little to nothing she could do about that without more time. She was able to disengage the gate, and then rearmed it. She wouldn’t leave them vulnerable just because they had pissed her off. She shifted and flew into town.

Bailey was standing in line at the check-in counter at the airport gate when her cell phone sounded. It was such an unusual event that it took her a few rings and someone to poke her from behind for her to realize it was her ringing. She answered it on the final ring, and as soon as she heard the voice, wished that she had left it to go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“I have another job for you. This one is in Germany. When can you get there?”

Neither of them used names. The phone was a pay as you go so that there were no bills. Also, since she traded the thing out at random intervals, it was nearly impossible to trace to her.

“I can be there in six hours, provided you pay for the last job before I purchase my tickets. The stationery was delivered over twenty-four hours ago, and we have cash on delivery billing in our business, remember?”

She hated working for people who didn’t follow rules. Bailey liked rules and liked them even better when they went her way. She snickered at the thought.

“The money will be wired in one hour. This job is a rush and I’m willing to pay you for any set up fees. And a bonus if you can have it printed in less than ten hours.”

The voice was never the same, but she still kept notes on the words or phrases that were used each time. This particular voice was one that she’d talked to over a dozen time and the targets were always human who had let the dark magic or black get the better of them and had taken lives. Bailey wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t wholly trust the person at the other end, hadn’t from the very beginning. There was something just off about it.

“No. Now. I have to pay my employees, and I don’t work that way. I believe we’ve had this same conversation about a dozen times now.”

Bailey hung up. They’d either call her back or wire the money. She really didn’t care which. When she got to the ticket counter, she purchased a ticket for the next flight to Rome. Once there, she would go to Germany if the bill got paid in a timely manner. Bailey didn’t think about the time factor. Never take a direct route when several would get her there safely and keep her ass safe. She always used cash too. Covering her tracks wasn’t just a concept, but a way of life for her.

Everyone, including her and Griff, always used printing terms when they called. She didn’t have the first clue how to print anything and even if she was to use a copier, she’d have to get out the manual to see how to turn one on. It seemed a good plan at the beginning. Griff, Tyler and she had laughed for hours about how someone would call in and ask for a hit. It had gotten so ridiculous that when they were approached the first time by their first client a few days later, they nearly lost the job because they couldn’t stop laughing. She had been ten years old. And keeping the humans at bay had gotten to be easier all the time.

Bailey’s phone rang just as she was being called to be seated. It had been only seven minutes since she’d told the voice to pay or fuck off and two since she had been notified by Griff that the money was in their account. With a grin, she answered.

“I just checked, and we are good to go. I’ll call you when the next job is received.” She hung up. She didn’t leave any chance that he could trace the calls. It was hard to do on the type of phone she used, but it could be done. And at the rate things were going with technology, that too would be a way of the past. Bailey took the battery out of her phone and crushed it in her hand. Then she snapped the phone in half and dropped the two different pieces of it into two different trash cans along the tarmac.

Bailey made a very good living at what she did. If she stopped working right now, she’d have enough money to live very nicely for the rest of her days. The excitement of the job and doing it well had gone out of it with the death of Tyler, though. He had been everything to her; maybe, she thought, it was time to hang up her guns. And just as that thought entered her mind, she pushed it away. She couldn’t quit, not right now, maybe not ever.

Tyler Dunn hadn’t really been her brother. They had been closer than that, if possible. They had met in the lab at Co-Tech Industries. They had both been lab experiments. He had been born a wolf and sold to the company when he was still a cub; he’d been about eight weeks old. Then his parents, for whatever reason, had just never returned.

The techs had thought to change him into the perfect killing machine by injecting steroids and other nasty chemicals into him. But they hadn’t counted on him being soft hearted. Without the drive or natural inclination to kill, his size and abilities aside, he would be useless to them.

Bailey had been six years old then to his eight. She had heard that they were going to “dispose” of her friend for noncompliance and she’d stepped in to save him. She found him drugged and tied up in a cell. They had all escaped. She had been there since conception, being a creation from a test tube, so knowing just how to get out was easy for her. She too had been set up for termination, her flaw of mortality rendering her useless as a candidate for the elite killing squad.