BloodBound (3 page)

Dex froze. If Stephanie Dubois was brought in for questioning and charged, it could sever the last string of hope for his brother.
No fucking way.
He snapped out the next questions. “Has she been identified? Is there a picture of her car—a license plate?”

“No. Again, the pics aren’t very sharp, taken at night.”

He expelled a short breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, thanks, man.”

“Sure. This will have to go through internal mail,” Alex said.

“That’s fine. Oh, one more thing—can you find a picture of her online?” Although Alex could send him a copy of her formal picture, VCI tracked all internal activity and that action could raise a flag.

“Give me a sec.”

The sound of rapid keyboard clicks came through the line.

“Okay, she’s got a LinkedIn account under her full name.”

“Perfect, thanks again.”

“No prob,”Alex replied and disconnected.

He had to act fast, had to see this woman. He wrestled with his professional sensibility for a bit, questioning her possible involvement in her brother’s bounty raid. Was she helping out or trying to jeopardize it? But for the most part, his actions derived from primal impulse. He didn’t care what her involvement was, if any, with the bounty operation. He just needed her safe and willing. He glanced at his watch. It was nearing four. There were two cases on his desk, which he’d just started studying. They’d have to wait.

After taking the necessary steps, he put a Level III access limit on the Polasky/blood party case, preventing the brothers from viewing the evidence file. As a senior agent, he had the authority to do that on the basis of cross-investigation. Of course, there was a possibility they’d already seen the photos. Once he received the photos from Alex, he printed them out, pulled on his uniform bomber jacket, and headed out of the office.

In his car, he called Victor and asked him to find the online photo of Stephanie Dubois and send it to him via text message. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel while he waited. Once the message came through with a
ping,
he opened the attachment. The tattoo artist hadn’t exaggerated. The definition of her features was striking. Wide-set brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a lush mouth, all framed by straight, long dark hair. There was a delicate, yet feral quality about her that registered in his groin. He cleared his throat and shifted in the seat.

He compared it with the forensics photos. Whoever took those night shots had used a standard digital camera. The images were a bit washed out, and she wore a hat, but Dex picked up the similarities between the online picture and these, particularly the wide curve of her lower lip. He was almost positive she’d been at the site of the raid and talked to someone there.

In a flash of clarity, he realized that this was the sign Victor had referred to. More than a sign. It was significant leverage. He started the engine and accelerated into the moving traffic. Stephanie Dubois lived in an apartment building just ten minutes’ drive from VCI headquarters. He slowed once he turned onto her street and found a parking spot with a good view of the entrance. He assumed she’d be coming home from work soon. He’d wait all night if he had to.

A little past six, he reached for the large insulated mug in the center console and took a swig. The cow’s blood instantly eased the onset of hunger pangs. He was just finishing dinner when he spotted Stephanie Dubois walking along the sidewalk toward her home, a sports bag hanging from her shoulder. Her hair was up in a ponytail, the ends bouncing at the midpoint of her back.

His pulse jumped with anticipation and something else he chose to ignore.
Finally, Ms. Dubois.
He put the mug down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Assuming she’d recently had a workout, he’d give her a bit of time to settle into her home, but not enough to jump into the shower. His patience was running thin.

Five minutes later, he crossed the street and rang her apartment via the intercom system.

“Yes?” the feminine voice came through the phone.

“Stephanie Dubois, I’m with the VCI.” He raised his ID toward the camera nestled in the high corner of one wall. “I need a moment of your time.” Dex sensed the surprise in the short silence that followed.

“Of course…um…apartment three-o-four.”

The door buzzed and he pushed through. When he located her apartment, he didn’t get the chance to ring the bell. The door opened and Stephanie Dubois raised her chin and looked at him with questioning eyes. It was a look he was accustomed to, but everything physical about her hit him at once. In particular, those wide eyes, that luscious mouth, and the shapely curves outlined in spandex athletic wear. For a slim woman, her breasts were surprisingly full. He felt gut-punched.
Or was it cock-punched?
Hell.

Dex gave himself a mental shake and showed his ID with a professional, “Agent Dex Mason.”

Her gaze was cautious as it lingered on the ID before giving him the once-over. “What’s this about?” she inquired with obvious wariness.

“I’m investigating a blood party case and I have reason to believe that you have some information for me.”

The tinge of color on her cheeks faded and her gaze faltered an almost imperceptible degree.

“Sure…come in.” She stepped to the side.

He walked into her small living room and looked around, noting the three unframed contemporary paintings along the far wall, the tall, heavy-laden bookcase, the white laminate drawing table, and the average-sized flat screen TV. She was neat, possibly well-read, and had an artistic talent. He’d deduced the latter mostly from her occupation. His perusal of her personal space bought him a few seconds to refocus.

When he looked at her again, she was standing by the sofa. He kept his gaze above her shoulders and said, “I have a few questions.”

She gave him a tense nod.

Dex pulled out a notepad from his jacket and flipped it open to a specific page. “This past Saturday, you were at 2900 South Lafayette Street, the residence where one wanted fugitive was hiding in relation to charges surrounding a blood party.”

Her eyebrows hitched and her gaze froze for a few seconds. “How do you know I was there? And…I don’t know anything about a blood party.”

He closed the distance between them and pulled out the photos. “The house was under surveillance. An officer took these photos of you.”

She took the two photos with unsteady fingers and stared at them for a long moment. When she handed them back, she looked past his shoulder and asked in a toneless voice, “Have the bounty hunters seen these?”

Stephanie Dubois was getting tangled in the net he’d laid. It didn’t please him, but it was virtually the only sure way of getting her help.
If she agreed.

“I don’t know, but there’s a cross investigation with this case, which is how I got them.” He pressed on, adding an edge to his voice. “Thing is, one minute the vampires are gorging to their hearts’ content, then you show up and all the donors disappear. The evidence is
gone
.” It was an exaggerated truth.

She raised slim fingers to her mouth and shook her head. “Oh God…I really had no clue about the party. I wanted to help a friend whom I believed was in trouble.” She splayed her hands. “I don’t know the guy in the photo.”

Her response seemed genuine and he felt a jab of guilt for putting her through the mill. Hopefully the hard part would be over soon. “That could be true, but your mention of bounty hunters means you know something about the case.”

She closed her eyes briefly, most likely giving herself a mental kick for the slip. With an audible sigh, she sat on the sofa’s armrest and said, “They’re my brothers.”

Dex could have interpreted the hint of pain in her voice in various ways, but he filed it in his memory for now.

“I just wanted to do the right thing. I didn’t purposely ruin their mission,” she added.

“M-hm. One more thing—what’s the name of your friend?”

Her mouth began to form a little
O
,
but she stopped it by pressing her teeth into her bottom lip. The action made his cock swell against his pants. He resisted linking his hands in front of his crotch, because that would draw her attention there. He cursed silently.

“Jason Kelso,” she finally muttered.

His eyebrow quirked. “Kelso—the vampire rights activist?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

Dex suppressed a groan.
Damn.
This new fact didn’t bode well. If VCI pursued the trail to her, it would interfere with his plans.

“Bounty hunters, a vampire rights activist…I have to take you in for further questioning,” he announced, snapping the notepad shut.

Her jaw dropped. “What? Now?” She glanced at the digital clock of her entertainment system. “Can’t I come in tomorrow morning?”

“Standard procedure, Ms. Dubois. This is serious, you know. You could be facing charges of obstructing justice.” The scare tactic was a bit cruel, but he told her the truth.

She stood and jutted her chin up. “Fine. Can I at least change into something else? I was at the gym.”

Dex yanked his gaze away from her before it went wayward again. “Of course.”

* * * *

Stephanie hastened to her bedroom, glad for the temporary reprieve, despite the panic pressing down on her lungs. Mechanically, she removed all her clothes and pulled on fresh underwear, a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved top. A shower was out of the question, but at least her workout hadn’t been intense. All the while, defensive scenarios raced through her head and she wasn’t sure which would be the most plausible.
This was bad. Real bad.
Besides the interrogation to come, her brothers would eventually find out she was at the scene of their bounty operation because of those damn pictures.
How the hell was she supposed to explain herself?
They’d probably never speak to her again…and Mom…God.
Her heart constricted.

This agent was a hound dog. Lying would only get her into deeper shit. A wave of dizziness washed through her. She leaned against the closet door and dragged in several long breaths until the objects in the room stopped spinning. Then she walked the short distance to the bathroom where she splashed water on her face and released her hair from the elastic band. There were equal amounts of anger and anxiety in the reflection that stared back at her from the mirror.

When she returned to the living room, the agent was standing by the window, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark pants. She thought there was a hint of broodiness in his profile, but his expression was composed and formal when he turned to her.

“I’m ready,” she said, and crossed to the small foyer to get her jacket and her bag.

Chapter Four

He led her to a black, unmarked SUV and motioned for her to get into the back seat. Stephanie fumed in silence as the large engine purred to life. If it weren’t for her pigheaded brothers, she wouldn’t be in this nasty jam. No matter, she didn’t regret trying to help Jason. She let out a weary breath and leaned back in the seat. Her gaze swept over the inside of the vehicle. Part of the dashboard and the middle console were equipped with an assortment of technical devices such as a GPS and a laptop, and a few others she didn’t recognize.

Inevitably, her attention shifted to
him
. Agent Dex Mason. He had good hair, thick and short with neat sideburns. His profile was in shadow, but she could still follow the defined cheekbone, the straight nose and the square angle of his jaw, which set off a warm flutter low in her belly. For the second time in about thirty minutes. Actually, when she’d first seen him, a shockwave had gone through her. Unsettling but not unpleasant. She hadn’t been prepared for the impact of those unusual, smoky eyes, the rugged face and tall, muscled build. Her fingers curled in her lap. He had a sexy voice to boot…deep velvet.

Disturbed by her reaction to him, Stephanie leaned her elbow against the window sill and cradled her head, eyes closed. The pending interrogation loomed ahead, but she didn’t want to think about it now. In any case, she’d have to tell them about Kyle and Patrick’s mission without getting them in hot water. When her brothers learned of her meddling, it would tear another gash in their relationship. Despite their faults, she didn’t hate them.

The vehicle slowed and she opened moist eyes, blinked quickly, and looked up at the attractive, brown-brick building they were pulling into through an open garage door. Her back straightened and she gripped the headrest of the front seat as the vehicle went down an incline and entered a large underground parking lot.

“Is this VCI headquarters?” she demanded as a tremor of unease went through her. She’d been too upset to question the protocol for interrogations.
Didn’t two investigators normally show up at people’s doors?

“Relax, Ms. Dubois. You’re perfectly safe…just give me a moment to park and I’ll explain everything.”

His words failed to comfort her. Something was off.

He cut the engine, unbuckled his seat belt, and shifted around to look at her. “Ms. Dubois, I care about this case very much. But I care about something—
someone
—else much more.”

She gave him a guarded look while she wondered if the doors were locked and if she could make it out of the garage before he caught her. “I don’t understand,” she replied while summoning to mind every self-defense skill she knew.

“I could make your present problem go away, all of it. On one condition.”

Oh, God…this wasn’t happening.
Her hand inched toward the door handle and his perceptive eyes picked up the motion.

He gestured in supplication. “Don’t get me wrong. Can I call you Stephanie?”

Her nerves were ready to snap. “Just tell me what’s going on,” she clipped.

A muscle flexed in his jaw as he exhaled a rough breath. “Stephanie, my brother suffers from a genetic disorder. The only person who can help him is a dhampir who carries a rare gene mutation.”

Her heart made an erratic skip and a different sort of panic shot through her. She yanked her gaze from his keen eyes.
He couldn’t know…it was a coincidence.
Finally, she put on a blank look. “What does that have to do with me?”