Know Thine Enemy (7 page)

"
What?"

"
Like I said, I know my hunters. Been around as long as I have and you pick up a thing or two."

"
And that makes me adorable?"

"
You talk a good game, but you know most of what you say is bullshit. And you know I know it, too. But what gets me the most, darling, is your eyes."

Izzie felt herself sinking back into her seat. Whatever this was couldn
't end well. Ryker had a look about him that made her feel all too aware of herself. Whether it was sexual interest or a predator sizing up dinner didn't matter to her; she didn't like knowing people were looking at her. The entire pub kept tossing her curious glances, even as they feigned interest in their own conversations.

"
You're not out here fighting the good fight because you think it's what my kind deserves," Ryker went on. "You're out here for something else altogether, aren't you?"

Something stirred within her. Her senses rallied to object, but she couldn
't. It would sound phony in her voice, and she was a terrible liar when it came to things that really mattered. Therefore Izzie said nothing and instead studied a French fry.

The door seemed farther away now.

Wright was so going to kill her.

"
Is it him?"

Izzie started.
At some point, her left hand had wormed into the side pocket of her cargo pants, fisting the handle of her blade. The movement was reflexive, instinctive, and she felt stupid for having not reached for it sooner.

"
Is what him?" she asked, hoping the vamp didn't notice.

"
The reason. Is he the reason? The reason you're out here risking your neck." Ryker frowned. "You're not lovers, are you?"

Izzie
recoiled in horror. "What? No!"

Well, that wasn
't entirely true. A long while back, at least five years now, she had approached Wright and asked him to be her first. It wasn't about love or sexual interest or anything beyond wanting to taste something fundamental to the human experience. Her life wasn't like anyone else's, and, though no two people walked the same road, she felt it safe to say she had it a bit different than the average Jane Doe. She wanted to know what sex felt like. She wanted to know what the fuss was about. And, since she lived in the moment, she doubted she would find herself in a position to trust anyone the way she trusted Wright.

Though the interlude hadn
't been about love or anything more than exploration, it had taken a while before things felt normal again.

Izzie understood now how sex changed things. She did her best not to think of that night. Revisiting it made her feel exposed and soft, wh
ile she preferred to be hidden and hard. Furthermore, Wright was a friend. He was more like her big, protective brother than anything else. Having felt him inside her seemed horrendously wrong in retrospect, but she couldn't claim regret. At least she had snagged that basic experience.

"
Ah," Ryker murmured.

"
What?"

"
I had it wrong."

"
You had what wrong?"

"
I figured him as just a friend. Don't often miss calls like that, but it has been known to happen." He grinned. "You do the dirty with Mr. Broody, don't you?"

"
I just said no!"

"
With your mouth, yeah. Your eyes tell a different story." He cocked his head. "It's amazing what you can tell from someone's eyes."

Heat spread over her skin. She really needed to get out of here.
"What can you tell?"

"
Already said it. You fight, but you don't have a reason, 'cept now I know you're in it with Butch." Ryker paused. "Just seems off, though. Maybe you're not in it by much. You two don't seem like lovers."

"
We're not."

"
Mmhmm. But you have been."

"
It's usually at this point when I'd throw my knife through your chest."

"
Lucky for me we're in a bar full of my friends."

"
Yeah," Izzie replied indignantly. "Lucky for you."

Fortunately,
Connor decided to waddle back to their table at that moment, tea in hand, before Izzie did something rash and stupid, like make good on an otherwise empty threat just to feel something other than useless. This wasn't her. This was a caricature of her. Vamps didn't just waltz up, introduce themselves, then give her a psychological analysis. Ryker needed his ass handed to him, and she needed to be the one who did the handing.

First
, she needed to move or blink, or do something that indicated she still occupied her own skin.

"
Evertin' all right here?" Connor asked, setting the drink down.

Ryker
's eyes didn't leave hers. "Just fine. I was just explaining to the lady your policy about keeping the peace. I think we have an understanding now."

"
She hasn't ate nufkink."

Izzie looked again to the proffered food on the table. For whatever reason, her stomach had ceased rumbling the second Ryker sat across from her. Perhaps because eating seemed intimate or at least came with some basic human vulnerability. She didn
't know, but she couldn't eat now. When hunger inevitably returned later, she'd have that promised cheeseburger from Wright. Better to eat with friends than unknowns.

"
Look at her." Ryker waved at her. "She doesn't eat much at all."

Connor mumbled grumpily and stormed off, at last
providing the vampire with a distraction. Perhaps Ryker wasn't as accustomed to the pub owner's mood swings as he'd indicated. His puzzled gaze followed Connor back to the bar.

At any rate, the
diversion gave Izzie the opportunity she needed—the break from Ryker's hypnotic stare. She bounded to her feet and raced for the door.

She didn
't believe he'd follow her. He'd said he wouldn't, and she had no reason to doubt it. Yet, as she reached the cool night air outside The Wall, she didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved when she realized he'd kept his word.

Tonight was a strange night, complicated by strange feelings she didn
't know how to interpret and thoughts she didn't think she could handle.

This must be how Berlie felt on a daily basis.

Izzie forced a laugh, her face falling into her hand. One little vampire had shaken her up by treating her like a person rather than a snack. He could be very dangerous to her if he wanted to be, and perhaps that was why he had her mesmerized.

Last night he
'd stepped out of the shadows. Tonight he'd shaken her on territory she thought familiar.

"
Damn," she muttered.

When the whistle of a projectile tickled her ears, it was too late to react. It was too late to do anything but raise her hands
just before something pierced the skin at her throat, and the world around her went dark.

Chapter Four

She was back in the closet.

Izzie had forgotten
how true terror felt. After staggering away from Harrison's bleeding body, she'd vowed never to experience anything akin to fear again. When she hungered and had no food, she hadn't worried over the future. She learned to separate herself from forces she couldn't control. Even toward the end of her stint as Harrison's daughter, compartmentalizing her emotions had helped keep her alive.

The closet was something else. The closet was the edge of the world, and there was nowhere to fall.

"She's waking up."

Izzie jerked. Her eyelids felt like deadweights.
"Who's there?"

A warm female voice permeated the air.
"It's all right, sweetheart. You're safe."

All right. So it wasn
't the closet. The relief that rushed through her would have been embarrassing in another life. The closet was years behind her. It could not catch her now.

"
Open your eyes, dearie," a woman said. A different woman, from the sound of things.

Izzie frowned and slowly forced herself to obey, everything around her blurry and disjointed. Her head felt split. Her temples pounded and her skin
was soaked in sweat. Flashes of the evening shot across her mind, but what she saw made little to no sense. "What the hell did you guys hit me with?" she asked groggily.

"
Sorry about that," said someone else. A third voice. male this time. Deep and confident. The sort of voice that assured the listener they were in good hands. Izzie well knew that sort of voice. Harrison had carried it to the pulpit the few times she'd heard him preach.

It took a moment for shapes to solidify. As the corners of the room smoothened into recognizable patterns, Izzie found herself at the end of a long conference table. Other details followed. She sat in a chair with her hands bound behind her and her legs tied at the ankle. A rush of adrenaline shot through her body, and her gaze darted from one end of the room to the next for signs of familiarity.

She found nothing. The room was like any other. Bland, undecorated walls, no windows. Nothing but the three people at the other end of the table.

People with exceptionally pale skin.

"Oh shit," Izzie murmured. "This is not good."

Her eyes fell to the table. Her blade sat
tantalizing inches away.

"
Not fucking good," she said again. She glanced up, straining her wrists to little avail. "What the hell is this?"

"
My apologies," said the male.

Izzie
paused in her struggles long enough to soak in his appearance. Dark hair, dark eyes, a strong square head, and a body built like a New England Patriots quarterback. He could likely snap her in half if he felt so inclined.

Yet, unlike every other vampire she had ever encountered, this guy
had donned a clean white T-shirt. White wasn't a color one typically saw on the undead.

The women
at his sides looked nothing alike, but they wore the same cold expression. Izzie shivered and resumed pressing against her restraints, harder this time.

Not. Good.

The male vamp offered what passed for an authentic smile, and motioned broadly. "We had to take precautions," he said. "You've made quite a name for yourself among our kind, you understand."

Izzie took another cursory glance around the room. Nothing had changed. The ceilings were high
—fifteen feet or so above her head. "Yeah, sure," she replied. "I understand."

"
We're very impressed," said one of the women. The one on the left—a blonde. "You're one of the most practiced hunters we've come across."

"
Yes, dearie," the other woman agreed. Her large eyes flashed with hungry eagerness. "Very adept."

Izzie wet her lips.
"So what is this? Did I win the Publisher's Clearing House?"

"
We needed to get you alone," the male said, folding his hands on the table. "Again, I apologize for the circumstances, but you have proven to be a little unpredictable."

The blonde woman grinned.
"Those guys last night. And then earlier tonight with Ryker."

"
Yes," the other woman, a brunette, agreed. "Unpredictable."

Izzie
's spirits collapsed, and the barrier separating her from the remainder of the night came crashing down. She remembered him, then. Ryker. The sexy drink of danger who had apparently stalked her for days and then cornered her at The Wall. She remembered racing for the door, remembered needing to get the fuck out of there before her defenses lowered to a point of no return.

She remembered that and nothing else. Nothing but black.

"I don't know who you are, but this is the mother of all bad ideas." Izzie pressed against her bindings, fighting a wince. "Someone will—"

"
Come looking?" the male vamp ventured.

She snickered.
"Come finding is more like it. He'll bring Hell with him, too."

"
I have no doubt."

The satisfied smile on the vamp
's lips translated into a sick sensation in Izzie's gut. Either he knew about Wright or didn't care that other hunters were in the area. Either answer wasn't promising. If this vamp and his floozies weren't worried about the scary-ass motherfucker she traveled with, she was in deep shit. Everyone was afraid of Wright. Even his daughter at times. Hell, even Izzie.

"
Allow me to introduce myself." The male vamp rolled his shoulders back with an air of self-importance. "I am Prentiss. These are my associates, Juliette"—the dark-haired woman on the right curtsied—"and Moira"—the blonde bowed her head.