Sucker for Love (22 page)

I counted to five, swore never to look at a piece of blue bubblegum and then headed for the door.

“Wait a sec,” the clerk yelled, and I realized I still clutched a toothbrush in my hand.

“Ssshhhh. I’m gonna pay for it.” Just not at that particular moment. I grabbed the door handle. The bell jingled.

“Come back here, punk!”

“I’ll be back. I swear.” When he reached for his shotgun, I added a mental
You don’t want to shoot me because I’m a) trying to save my friend’s life and will come back ASAP and pay for the stupid thing and b) a bona fide hottie that you would seriously like to get with.

Here’s the thing about men and hot women … even if a guy knows his chances are zilch, he’ll still do everything in his power to bend over backward for an impressive pair of boobs. It’s a law of nature or something.

Sure enough, his eyes went glassy and the shotgun lowered a few inches.

“Come again,” he called after me.

I rest my case.

I flew out the door and hooked a left in the direction I’d seen Mordred take. A plan crystallized as I slid across the concrete toward the side parking lot. Let him lead me to Esther. Then beat the crap out of him.

I peered around the corner of the building in time to see him climb into a small compact car. A blue Kia with tan interior and one of those weird ignition locks that were all the rage with car rental companies. He sat there with the door open and the interior light on while he stuffed his cigarettes on top of the folded visor and put his drink in the cup holder. A sharp, musty scent spiraled through the air and crossed the gravel toward me. My nostrils flared and my heart dropped to my toes.

I zeroed in on the passenger side and the dark stain that covered the seat back. Hunger twisted at my gut. Rewind to a quick mental of Esther slumped in the seat, her afterlife seeping all over the fabric upholstery, and a growl bubbled up my throat.

Okay, so maybe I’d beat the crap out of him first and then force him to lead me to Esther.

With the ripe scent of blood teasing my senses and the dread poking at my stomach, it seemed like one hell of an idea. My vision went red and my thoughts centered solely on the murdering a-hole in front of me. I launched forward.

I made it three steps before a hand gripped my
ponytail and yanked me backward. I hit the pavement with a loud
thwack.
Pain blurred my vision and my eyes watered. Through the fog, I caught a quick glimpse of a man’s face looming over me.

I blinked and tried to focus. No, make that two men.

Another blink. Three?

My survival instincts fired to life and my alter ego—big, bad vamp—took the lead, but it was too late. I instantly realized why the SOBs—mere humans, all of them—were able to take out vamps the world over on a regular basis.

A distracted vamp meant a vulnerable one.

“Wait—” I started, only to have a wet rag shoved over my face.

Don’t breathe.
The command echoed through my brain, but my mouth was already open. The overpowering scent of garlic spiraled inside, burning and twisting down into my lungs. My stomach convulsed. Pain ripped through me, followed by a rush of paralysis that seeped through every muscle.

And then everything went blessedly black.

Forget blacking out.

I’d bitten the dust and gone straight to H-E-L-L, and the proof was right in front of me.

Faded. Brown. Scuffed.

They were the cheapest loafers I’d ever seen.

My watery gaze shifted to the right and a pair that looked even worse than the first. Faded. Brown.
Scuffed.
And
they had a hole in the toe. I caught a glimpse of a dingy white sock and the unmistakable scent of Fritos.

Okay, so
these
were the cheapest loafers I’d ever seen, and I’d definitely hopped a train six feet under. The view was for shit. My head hurt. My body ached. The high-pitched sound of wailing demons filled my ears.

“… she doing hanging upside down?” The familiar British accent pushed past the wailing demons (aka the distinct ringing caused by the fact that I was hanging upside friggin’ down and the blood was rushing to my head) and pulled me back to reality.

“Standard procedure to subdue a vampire suspect,” another voice replied. “We followed the textbook on this one, boss. Just like you said. Garlic to subdue her. A shot of sedative. And then we trussed her up and put her into an inverted holding position.”

“That’s textbook for a were possum,” the British voice replied. “And you don’t use garlic, it’s ether. Textbook for vampires is garlic, sedative and then a continuous chorus of ‘Kumbaya.’ The overdose of warm fuzzies turns their predator brains to mush. At least while in captivity.”

“Dammit, Carl. You said we were doing the right thing,” a voice said.

“What do I know? I barely passed Captivity 101.”

“Just get her down and sit her on the sofa,” said the British accent.

Hands pulled and tugged at me. A few seconds later, I was sitting upright on a burgundy sofa. The blood drained from my head and slowly I started to focus on my surroundings. Impossible at first with a floodlight trained on my face.

“What the—”

“Reposition the light,” the British accent snapped. “We don’t want her going blind right in front of us.”

“Vampires can do that?”

“Dammit, Carl, don’t you remember anything from the academy?”

The light shifted. The glare refocused in the vicinity of my knees, and I blinked. This time, I didn’t just see white polka dots. Instead, I picked up on my surroundings. Small sitting area tastefully decorated in burgundy and brown. A down comforter covered a king-sized bed to my right. A mini-bar sat against the far wall next to a flat-screen TV.

“W-where are we?” I croaked, my lips cracked and dry. My mouth tasted like old gym socks and garlic bread.

“The Holiday Inn,” replied the smooth British accent.

I instantly perked up. “There’s a Holiday Inn in Lonely Fork?”

“It’s about forty-five minutes on the opposite side of town, on the way to Fredericksburg,” Merlin replied. “We don’t have to actually stay in town while we wait Mordred out. We just have to be there at the end.”

My gaze found him just in time for
the end
(after I’d picked my hope off the floor and resigned myself to plastic furniture and polka dot wallpaper). He wore a purple shirt and slacks. Black loafers with tassels. He still looked like Santa Claus with his rosy cheeks and snow white beard, but a more pimped-out version. “Starting your own rap label?”

Despite his self-professed sense of humor (if he belted out a knock-knock joke I was going to start bleeding from my ears), he didn’t look the least bit amused. His eyes glittered like hard chips and my entire body went ice cold.

“What is this?” My gaze zeroed in on the video camera that sat near the blinding light. “The confession booth on
Big Brother?”

“Training visual. My men watch the tapes so they can focus in on their weak areas and perfect their apprehension techniques.” His gaze darkened and his pupils flashed like bolts of lightning. “I told you not to interfere.”

“I didn’t interfere. I was buying a toothbrush.”

“You were following Mordred.”

I went for my best laugh. “Says you. You’ve got no proof that I was following anyone.”

“We saw her, boss.” The comment came from one of the men standing off to the side, near the video cam. He had brown hair and was dressed classic cop—white button-up shirt, dress slacks, powdered sugar on his collar.

“Yeah,” the other man—blond hair, same outfit
but with sprinkles instead of sugar—added. “She was out for blood.”

“That shows how much you guys know. Blood makes me squeamish.”

“But you’re a vampire,” Merlin pointed out, looking surprised for the very first time since I’d met him.

“Yeah, well, we all have our flaws.” I tugged and pulled at the ropes binding my hands, but oddly enough they didn’t snap.

“They’re reinforced with silver thread, soaked in garlic and fortified with my own binding spell.”

Which totally explained why my fingers and toes felt numb.

A sliver of fear worked its way through me. While I knew it was doubtful that Merlin would off me right here and now (I was a born vamp, after all, and I seriously doubted he wanted to start a civil war between BVs and sorcerers), he did look royally pissed.

On top of that, his backup (Cheap and Cheaper) didn’t look like the brightest bulbs in the tanning bed. Anger and ignorance didn’t make for good judgment, so I wasn’t placing any bets on getting out of this situation in one piece.

Still, I wasn’t going down without a fight.

I pasted on my most intimidating expression and sent a silent
You want to untie me right now
to the brunette. My gaze collided with his, but I didn’t pick up so much as a name.

I blinked and focused, but …
nothing.
“What did you do to me?”

“My men are protected by a privacy spell that keeps them from being susceptible to the vast number of Others who might want to influence their thoughts. You can’t crawl into their heads, vampire. They’re immune to you.”

“My name is Lil, thank you very much, and if you untie me now, I won’t call Ash and have him report you.” If I couldn’t glam my way out, I’d have to try bullshitting.

Merlin chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Take it to the bank.”

“I should be scared right now, eh?”

“If getting your ass fired scares you, then yeah, I’d be a little squeamish if I were you.”

He chuckled again. “I’m not getting fired, my dear. See, I’ve broken no super-natural law.” He spared a glance at the video camera. “I’m on record with a textbook apprehension.”

“For a were possum,” I reminded him. I pleaded with the video cam. “This is no way to treat a born vampire. I have rights, you know.” Okay, so I didn’t have rights so much as I had a zillion relatives who would be out for blood if Merlin harmed one hair on my ultra-fab head.

“The only thing you have is a death wish. I’ve already called Ash and told him what you’re up to.”

Uh-oh.

“I haven’t, however, called our superior and reported the situation.” He smiled then. A cold, callous expression that sent a chill straight through
me. “If I do, your demon friend is going to be in a lot of trouble.”

“But Ash didn’t do anything.”

“He investigated a crime scene that was clearly in my jurisdiction, without permission. And he fed you information that should have remained confidential. Both charges are enough to kill his career. He’ll be back in hell faster than you can run that smart mouth of yours.”

Wow. We’re talking fast with a capital F.

“I don’t like anyone butting into my business.” He nailed me with a stare. His gaze brightened this time, his pupils shimmering like wisps of smoke. My head felt suddenly very heavy. “If you continue to follow Mordred, I will make sure that the death you face is far worse than that of your made vampire friend.”

While my sluggish brain couldn’t envision an ending that could be worse than getting Ginsued by an evil sorcerer, my gut told me that all-powerful Merlin could come up with something.

I ignored my trembling knees. What? I was in deep doody. I was entitled to a little raw terror.

“I wasn’t following Mordred,” I told him again. “Seriously. I had no idea he was even here.” When Merlin nailed me with another stare, I added, “I mean, I knew he was here in this town because you told me after I Googled him, but I wasn’t at the store looking for him. I was making an innocent purchase on behalf of my freaked-out friend.”

“She
was
carrying this.” Cheap held up the pink Colgate number I’d swiped from the store.

“See? I wasn’t lying.”

“That proves nothing.”

“It proves I wasn’t in the store for Mordred.”

“Maybe not, but you’re in Lonely Fork because of him.”

“No.” Not entirely. “I have a client here.” I thought of Elmer and his eagerness to find a Bingo partner. “In fact, I have several.”

“Name one.”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential information. In other words, none of your beeswax.”

It wasn’t the smartest thing to say, but I couldn’t help myself. I felt physically powerless (and way out of my BV comfort zone) and my mouth was the only thing working at the moment.

He waved a finger at me and I felt a strange tightening around my throat.

“You’re not funny,” he told me.

“Yeah, well, neither are you,” I croaked. “Your knock-knock jokes suck.”

He stared at me long and hard for a moment and the tightening continued until I thought my trachea would rupture.

Then as quickly as the sensation started, it ended. His expression eased. The finger fell to his side and relief swamped me.

“If you’re merely in town for a client, then I don’t
have any reason to keep you here, now, do I? That is, unless you’re lying. Are you lying to me, Miss Marchette?”

“Who, me? I never lie.” At least not unless I was in an afterlife and death situation with Santa’s evil twin. “Just call me Abe.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he signaled his two henchman anyway. They went to work on the ropes, one at my hands and the other at my feet.

The pressure eased and the silver threaded rope fell away. The feeling quickly returned to my hands. My feet came next and I flexed my ankles. I became quickly aware of the fact that I could actually move the toes on my right foot. A quick glance down, and I knew why.

“Where’s my shoe?”

Cheap shrugged. “Must have fallen off when we were getting you into the car.”

“Did you pick it up?”

“What am I? A bellboy? My hands were full.”

“Don’t look at me.” Cheaper shrugged. “It was all I could do to keep from dropping you. You’re heavy. Not that you’re fat,” he blurted when my gaze narrowed to dangerous slits, “but you were dead weight at the time.”

“A lot of dead weight,” Cheap added.

This was not happening. First I’d lost Mordred. Now my shoe. “That was a three hundred dollar pair.”

“You spent three hundred dollars on
shoes?”