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Ten minutes later, the man walked in. Ana was finishing up an order for a last-minute customer, one of her late-night regulars, Bobbie Hernandez. As usual, Bobbie was accompanied by a pretty girl. Even as she tensed, Ana continued to chat with the two of them, refusing to look at her unwanted guest even though she really wanted to. Bobbie glanced at the other man curiously, but he simply stared back, expression inscrutable.

The moment Bobbie and his girlfriend left, Ana snapped around the Closed sign so it was facing out. Moving away from the glass door to the solid wall beside it, she leaned back, crossed her arms over her chest, and turned to him. As she watched, he shrugged out of his jacket and sat down, shirt untucked, legs splayed out in front of him.

“Don’t get too comfortable. I’m closed now. You need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving until I say what I came to say,” he said softly. “You know that.”

His voice caressed her, as did his gaze. Once you were able to see past all the mesmerizing angles of his face
and body and his slick clothes, he had nice eyes. So dark they almost seemed black. Like dark chocolate. Or a richly decadent espresso. Two of her favorite things. Automatically, her gaze dropped to the bulge in his pants. It was lovingly framed by his thighs, the fabric of his jeans pulled tight against them so it molded itself to the hard muscle.

She’d touched him when she’d patted him down, so she knew he was well endowed. Big and intimidating even when he wasn’t aroused. He’d stirred when she’d touched him in the alley and the memory of her fingers on such an intimate part of him made her flush. Given her history, the reminder of his masculinity and vitality should scare her.

Why wasn’t it scaring her?

Why had she suddenly grown warm, throughout her entire body but particularly between her legs? Why did she have the sudden urge to kneel in front of him and unzip him, so she could see what she’d already felt—

For God’s sake. Stop! Men had never caused her anything but pain time and again. This man wouldn’t be any different.

Forcing her gaze away from his body, she focused on his positioning instead. Despite his relaxed pose, she noted how he, too, had placed himself where he could see the entrance, but still remain out of view and out of range of anyone on the street.

“How about I call the cops?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t call her bluff.

“How about we make a deal instead?”

“What kind of deal?”

“I want my gun back. And something tells me you’re not just going to hand it over to me.”

“So?”

“Let’s focus on what happened outside. Do you really believe you would have gotten my gun if I hadn’t wanted
you to? You’re good, sweetheart, but as I said earlier, you were holding back. I did the same.”

She’d held a gun to his head. Slammed his face into a wall. And he thought she’d been holding back? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she clipped out, even though part of her did.

“You were willing to fight dirty, but only to a degree. You’re ashamed of who you were. The way you used to talk. The way you used to fight. That shame hinders you.”

His perceptiveness grated at her. He was right. She hated the person she’d been. Resented any necessity to be that person again. But she was never going to admit it to him or anyone else. “And according to this absurd theory of yours, you decided to take it easy on me to keep things fair?”

He grinned. “Don’t believe me? Let me prove it to you. Fight me. Fight me with everything you are. Everything you’ve got. I get the gun back, you listen to what I have to say. All of it. You consider what I’m offering you before you make your decision.”

“And if you don’t get it back?”

“I leave, but first I’ll give you some of the information I have on your sister.”

Suspicion flickered through her … and temptation. “Why don’t you just give me the information anyway?”

He smirked. “Sorry, but it doesn’t work that way. Come on, Ana. Give it your best shot. Show me what you’ve got. Show me what you learned on the streets,” he taunted.

“Shut up,” she hissed.

He sobered instantly and she could tell he knew.
He knew
. He knew what she’d done in the past to survive—maybe he even knew what had been done
to
her despite the fact that she’d have rather died—and she couldn’t
hold back the intense shame that washed over her, making her feel nauseous.

“I was referring to your fighting skills,” he said softly.

“I know what you were talking about.”

“So then?”

“How do I know you won’t just retrieve your gun—assuming you are able to retrieve it—and shoot me instead of giving me the information I want?”

“You’re a smart girl. I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“Like I said, smart girl.”

Without another word, Ty lunged out of his chair, not for her, but for the counter behind her.

Ana didn’t bother protesting his sneakiness. He wanted her to fight him with everything she had? So be it. This time, as fast as he was, she was faster. Probably because she had the advantage of knowing exactly where she’d put his gun. Vaulting over the counter that separated the work area from the customer area, Ana grabbed what was handy—a couple of heavy coffee mugs—and hurled them at him.

They bounced off his chest. She turned swiftly, but his arms wrapped around her from behind just as she was reaching for the shelf underneath the cash register. “Stupid move,” he growled. “You led me right to it.”

“Or maybe I just led you to this.” She tightened her grip on the small club and, even with her limited mobility, swung it down, aiming for his knee. Just in time, he raised his leg, decreasing the distance between her and her target so it deflected the blow. With his arms wrapped tight around her in a bear hug, he lifted her off the ground and swung her around so they were facing the opposite counter.

With her feet dangling and the air being squeezed
from her lungs, she began to see stars. “So what are you going to do now, little girl?” he taunted in her ear.

What she did was drop the club, plant her feet on the cabinets beside her, and twist her body so she leaned closer to one side. Then she shifted her arm behind her so she could grab his dick in a punishing grip. He bellowed and she shoved herself to the other side so that his arms loosened just a bit—just enough so she could hit him in the gut with her elbow. It wasn’t a powerful hit, but it was enough to gain her a bit more freedom. Violently twisting his manhood, she finally managed to cause him enough pain that he loosened his arms. She pushed off the counter, sending him crashing backward, and twisted out of his grip. Breathing hard, she bolted out of reach and turned to face him.

He had paled to a sickly white but the look in his eyes was murderous. His lips were flattened in a tense, thin line. She actually grinned, feeling more alive than she had in months. Hell, years. She danced around on the balls of her feet, waiting for him to come at her. “Oh, come on. Don’t be a poor sport. This was your idea,
amigo
.”

“Where is my gun?” he bit out.

She couldn’t resist. She glanced down beneath the cash register again, expecting him to dive for it while she went in the other direction. Once she opened the cabinet and had the gun in her hands, she’d have won and that meant—

Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to finish her thought. The premature victory was cut short when Ty rushed her, pushed his shoulder into her stomach, and hefted her over his shoulder. As the world spun, she screeched. “You asshole.” She pounded at his back and tried to kick her legs, but he wrapped his arms around them like vices, prohibiting her movement. “You bastard.
Yo le mataré. No, usted deseará que usted estuviera muerto!
I’m going to cut off your balls. I’m going to—to—”

He actually slapped her ass, making her scream in fury once more.

“You’ve done quite enough damage to my balls already, thank you very much. Now you’re going to have to take your punishment.”

The world spun as he lowered her to the ground and himself on top of her. Her ponytail had come loose. Her dark hair was hanging in her face and she could barely see him through it, but she could feel him, all his hard angles pressing into her softest places. He gathered her wrists in his hand and held them over her head. Then he lowered his head until he spoke right into her ear.

“Now,” he said. “Just tell me where my gun is. Once you do that, it’ll be a fair challenge.”

His voice sounded different. Slightly slurred.

“You weren’t worried about playing fair when you got a head start on me,” she snapped.

He seemed to consider that. “I suppose I wasn’t. What does that tell you?”

“That you’re an unscrupulous, manipulative bastard that’s willing to work any situation to your advantage so you can get what you want.”

Finally, he raised his head and his gaze met hers. His expression was hard. “That’s right. Now, tell me. What is it you think I want right now?” His hips pressed forward. Even if they hadn’t, she’d know he was aroused. His erection hardened and lengthened with each second that passed.

Oh God, had she totally misjudged him? Was this what he’d wanted all along? Was he going to—

“Don’t you fucking look at me like that,” he clipped out, the curse word sounding as foreign coming out of his mouth as his accent. “I’m not going to rape you. But I don’t have to, do I? You want me. And something tells
me if I kiss you—just kiss you—you’ll tell me exactly where my gun is. What are the odds that I’m right?”

As fear drained from her body, it was replaced swiftly by anger. She felt her face flame and hated that her weakness was so transparent. Worse yet, she hated him for being witness to it. She renewed her struggles, but that didn’t stop him from lowering his lips to hers.

“Bite me,” he warned, “and I swear I’ll bite you back.”

She didn’t bite him.

She couldn’t.

She was too busy trying to stifle her every sound and every reaction to his kiss. The first touch of his cool mouth to hers seared her nerve endings, and although he kept the contact quick and gentle, she was shaking when he raised his head.

“Where’s the gun?”

She stared mutely back at him.

“You want me to kiss you again, sweetheart?”

She tried shaking her head. Wasn’t sure if she actually did. She said nothing, however, afraid if she did she’d give herself away.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

She wanted him to kiss her again. But damn if she’d tell him so.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to hear it. Lowering his head once more, he was neither quick nor gentle. This time, his touch didn’t feel cool.

This time, he opened his mouth and penetrated hers with his tongue.

This time, heat swept from him into her so hot and so fast she practically ignited. She whimpered, and the sound shocked her out of her lust-induced trance. No, she thought. I won’t let this happen. I can’t.

Wrenching her mouth from his, she turned her face to
the side, closed her eyes, and surrendered. “Your gun’s in the cabinet under the toaster.”

Several seconds ticked by. The only sound was that of their breath being dragged in and out of their lungs. Ana clenched her teeth. “You won, okay? Get off me.”

“Look at me.” His words were dark and commanding.

Bitterly, she opened her eyes and turned back to him.

His expression was savage. His eyes burned with hunger.

“This isn’t a victory, Ana. Not for either one of us. But if you can get over your attitude, you’ll find I can be generous. You can also judge this for yourself. I don’t lie. Ever. Your sister is alive. She’s healthy. She seems happy. You want a shot at the same? You want to be reunited with her? Then listen to me. Just listen before you make up your mind. What do you say?”

She hesitated for a moment then nodded. “Fine. But only if you get off of me. And only if you promise never to touch me again.”

He stared at her silently then pushed himself to standing. “I can’t promise that. I told you, I don’t lie. Now, are you ready to listen?” He held out his hand.

And to her amazement, she took it.

CHAPTER
THREE

FBI Headquarters

Washington, D.C
.

When Special Agent Kyle Mahone’s cell phone rang it was
half past midnight and the caller’s number was blocked. No biggie. He knew who was calling and why, and even though it technically involved FBI business, he’d been ordered to keep that business as far away from the Bureau as possible. Which was why he immediately packed up his things and left, not just the J. Edgar Hoover building but the city limits.

Doing what he did for a living, paranoia was a way of life, and being paranoid had saved his life more than once. As of four months ago, he and Assistant Director Rick Hallifax were the only two people inside the FBI who knew about Operation Belladonna and its true purpose—to cover the Bureau’s ass at all costs.

The real problem?

Mahone was no longer sure whether he
should
be covering the Bureau’s ass or exposing it for the entire nation to see. Until he was sure, however, it was going to be business as usual.

Once he determined he hadn’t been followed, he dialed Carly’s phone number.

When she answered, Mahone asked, “Has Ty made contact?”

“He’s talking to her even as we speak,” Carly responded. “Just as we suspected, she’s going to need some convincing. We’ll debrief her slowly. Make sure she’s truly committed to seeing her sister again before we introduce her to the others and tell her.”

Tell her that vampires actually existed, she meant.

Tell her that Ty Duncan was one of them, but only because he’d been forcibly turned by a group of Rogues who—oh yes, by the way—had once been working for the FBI but were now liabilities the Bureau couldn’t afford.

Fuck, Mahone thought as he ran a hand through his hair. All he’d ever wanted was to serve his country and work for the FBI. He hadn’t been naive about it, either. He’d accepted long ago that safety and freedom came with a price. That sometimes things needed doing in spite of traditional notions of morality.