Forbidden Touch (5 page)

She shut her eyes tight and clutched the phone to her chest. "God, please no!" she cried.

Mitch ran out of his apartment complex and looked at his unmarked, and then he looked down the deserted street. The all hours gym was only seven blocks away, and sitting in that damn car wasn't going to help him any. He took off at a mad run toward the gym. When his muscles cramped up, he pushed himself even harder. He had to do something to get that woman out of his head. Something in the back of his mind told him that she'd been the one with him in his apartment. He knew it was her, and he was a little pissed at himself for being so irrational. Maybe if he had talked a little more calmly and a little longer without spazzing out, she would have shown herself.

It was too late now. He had a feeling she would take him at his harsh words and leave him alone.

He remembered her in the dream. She had heard the beep, and was trying to leave before he realized that she was really there with him. How long had she been in his apartment? He'd been having dreams about her, on and off, for almost a month. Had she been there that long? And again the question; is she the one committing the unusual murders? She had been there in his dreams, covered in blood, when he had seen the images of the victims before they were murdered. How could he have been so naive?

He slowed down and jogged up the steps of the gym, punched in his code, and opened the door. There were only a few guys lifting weights in the weight room. No one was at the punching bag, and that's where he headed.

There were tape and gloves on a shelf close to the punching bags, but he wasn't interested. He needed pain. He needed to hit something, and realized that he wanted to be hit back. He needed that adrenaline rush that only fighting could give him. He had boxed in high school, but there was hardly ever anyone that came in here with enough balls to take him on.

He left the tape and gloves off, and began to pound the bag. It was helping, but it wasn't enough to get her out of his head. He needed someone to knock her out of his mind for good. He'd been punching the bag for a while without slowing down. He noticed out of his peripheral vision, that the guys who had been lifting weights were watching him now. There were four of them. Maybe I can pick a fight with all of them, and they will whoop the dog shit out of me, he thought as he hammered on the bag. His knuckles had already begun to bleed, but that made him happy.

"Hey, you're going to give yourself a heart attack if you don't slow down, man. Your girl break up with you or something?" one of the guys said. He wasn't the biggest, so Mitch didn't want to pick the fight with him.

No, she didn't break up with me. She won't even let me see or touch her.
He grimaced at the thought. Who was he kidding? She'd never been his girlfriend. Like he'd said before, women that beautiful didn't seduce men like him. He stopped punching the bag and looked at the guy. He was about Mitch's size, six-two, two-hundred and ten pounds. Mitch was a little broader through the shoulders, but he would take it easy on the guy.

"I'm actually looking to be hit back, but this bag isn't interested. Are you?" Mitch said as he stared the guy down. He shrugged his shoulders when the guy didn't respond right away. He wasn't going to stand here all night and bull shit. He had shit to do. "Any of you interested? Hell, all of you at one time. I'm not looking to kick anybody's ass; I'm looking to get mine kicked."

The biggest guy stepped forward and Mitch grinned. "Are you crazy, man?"

Not even a heartbeat went by before he responded. "I'm beginning to think so," he said as he nodded once.

The big guy's expression didn't change as he stared at Mitch. "You didn't escape from some loony bin or something, did you?"

Mitch shook his head, reached behind his back and held out his pistol butt first to the guy. "Nope. I'm a cop, and I've had one hell of a month. Just looking for someone to beat it out of me, that's all."

The eyes on all four of the guys widened considerably, and then the big guy spoke up again. "Look, I ain't going to jail for beating some cop's face in the dirt."

Mitch shook his head and looked the guy right in the eyes. "You won't. I promise. I'm not even wearing my badge, and I'm giving my gun up right now." He laid it on the shelf behind him. "If you want, we can call my partner. You can talk to him, and I will tell him in front of you that no one here is responsible for anything that happens to me, but you will have to say the same. I boxed in high school and I'm looking for a fair fight. I want my ass whipped, but I'm not going to let you do it. Capisci?

After Mitch laid his gun on the shelf, he'd grabbed the tape and had been wrapping his hands, knuckles and wrists. When he finished talking, he tossed the tape to the big guy. The guy caught it and nodded in agreement.

"I don't think we need to involve any more cops than what is already here. But you don't need to know my name either, do you?"

Mitch shook his head. "It isn't necessary," he said as he grabbed a pair of boxing gloves and headed for the ring.

The big guy finished taping his hands, then one of his buddies helped him into the gloves. "You aren't going to wear head gear?" he said, looking up at Mitch as he bounced on his toes in the ring.

"No need, but you can if you want."

The guy looked back at his friend, whispered something then nodded. His friend put the head gear on him and he stepped into the ring with Mitch. "You said you used to box. I ain't stupid." 

Mitch bounced a few more times, then hauled off and punched the big guy in the nose. The guy's head jerked back, but he kept his balance enough to stand. He shook his head to clear it, then ran at Mitch swinging, but only connected with air. Mitch caught the guy in the stomach, and doubled him over.

Mitch held out his arms. "C'mon, I was having better luck with the punching bag."

The guy righted himself and tried to catch his breath. They began to circle each other and Mitch moved in for a right hook. He connected perfectly with the guy's left jaw then gave him an uppercut with his left. That had been enough to knock him out cold. The big guy fell slowly, and was laid out on the mat, unmoving.

He frowned down at the big guy and shook his head. He'd had high hopes of being the one laying on the mat. Mitch looked at the three other guys standing on the concrete. "Is he the toughest out of the four of you?" they all nodded in agreement. No one wanted to play with him. He unfastened the Velcro around his wrists and slipped the gloves off. He let them fall on the mat without putting them back on the shelf. He jumped down, went to the shelf to retrieve his gun, and walked out the door of the gym without another word.

That had been disappointing, but he did burn a few calories. It had been a while since he'd pounded the bag. He missed it, and planned to come back again tomorrow night. Maybe there would be even bigger guys that would want to play with him.

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Chapter 7

She opened the door of her Parents' house. From the outside it looked like an old, single story, white wooden house. But what many, well all, mortals didn't know was there was an extravagant, ten thousand square foot mansion below it. She hadn't grown up here. Her Parents weren't really her parents in the normal sense of the word. Her real parents had died many centuries ago in Italy. The Parents she had now were descendants of the Elders. She had been given to them so they could teach her the right way to be what she was.

There are a lot of different tasks that vampires take on. Some work in the human world as night doctors or nurses. They have access to the bags of blood that come in from the Red Cross and such. Not every vampire likes to take blood directly from a mortal. They steal it from hospitals, and then sell it to the vampires that get their nutrition from a bag. Their title: Getters. The task was very boring, so she had no interest in ever becoming a Getter.

Some were like her Parents, and showed others the way to blend in and be successful in their tasks. Their title: Parents. She would never be a Parent. She had no interest in helping other vampires be better vampires.

There were a lot of Rogue vampires in the world, and the Elders didn't usually pay them any attention unless one started killing off a bunch of mortals, like the one she was chasing. Their title: you guessed it, Rogues. And yes, she had thought many times about becoming a Rogue.

Only the elite can do what she does. She is what they call a Finder. She tracks, locates, subdues, and imprisons the Rogue vampires that have gotten a little out of hand. The Elders judge them. Most of the time they are executed, because if they are causing havoc in a city, they are usually already crazy and can't be helped any further. Her job was a lot like Detective Mitch Foley's.

She closed her eyes. The thought of him made her chest hurt.

She opened the front door and walked down the dainty looking but very sturdy wooden staircase, and then took a left at the bottom and walked a little ways down the hall. She took a deep breath, then opened the conference room doors. It surprised her. Her Parents, Asabel and Dane were the only beings in the room. She had expected every one of the Elders to be here, ready to execute her after what she'd done. Or did Asabel know everything she'd been doing for the last month?

She held her head high and came to a stop in front of her clearly irate parents. "Mother," she nodded. "Father." She didn't acknowledge Asabel or Dane's presence. There was no need; they were only witnesses.

Her Father cleared his throat. "Ciera, what have you been doing for the last month?"

She showed no emotion, a skill she had perfected over the last three centuries. "I have been tracking the Rogue with very little luck, Father. You know of my great skill, but this vampire's mind is like none other I have encountered. His brain is completely fried, and the only thing I'm getting from him are the images of his victims, but only a couple of days before he drains them. There is a human detective working the case, and I have only visited his dreams to implant the images of the victims in his mind. He has more information on the human population than I do, Father. Without names, I am at a loss. He is my source for names."

"Have you let this human see you, hear your voice?" he asked sternly.

Well, she had in his dreams, but the guy was convinced that his dreams weren't real so what did that matter? "No. He knows nothing of our kind, Father." That wasn't a lie; he didn't have a clue what she was.

He turned and looked at her Mother and she nodded. She could tell if anyone was lying, and Ciera hadn't had to.
Mitch didn't know anything about vampires…yet.
"Very well, I know you are aware of the laws. You are one of my best pupils, and I would absolutely hate to see the Elders strike you down for foolishness."

She nodded once. "I am aware of the laws, Father."

"You may go," he said.

Ciera turned on her heel and walked out of the conference room.

Dane caught up with her. She knew he would. Like her Mother and Father, Dane wasn't really her brother. Every vampire that had the same task as her was known as a Brother or Sister. One big happy family. Dane had been trying to get beneath her flat sheet for some time now, over a century really, but she didn't see him that way. He was fun to hang around with, and one time she had even found out what an excellent kisser he was, but she really didn't want anything intimate with the vampire. She hadn't ever wanted anything intimate with anyone… until now. Being celibate all these many centuries was how she did her task so well. Thoughts of desire and passion would only cloud the senses, and she couldn't afford to let the enemy win because her head was filled with kisses and love.

She had been taken from her true family by a Rogue more than three centuries ago, and had been only twenty-five years of age and unmarried. It was very unusual back then, to be of that late age and still be un-betrothed, but Ciera hadn't been interested in any of her suitors, and she simply would not marry someone she wasn't in love with. It wasn't too long before the men stopped knocking on her father's door altogether. They wanted young girls, so it would seem as if she was to become an old maid, and for some reason she found that comforting. Little did they know how old, of an old maid, she would become.

She had no thoughts of intimacy over the long years, and she concentrated on the tasks in front of her instead of dwelling on being held tightly in the embrace of two strong arms. Well, that statement had applied up until four weeks ago. She had thought about nothing else really in the last month, but there was only one man she thought about doing those particular things with, and it was forbidden for him to know about her.