Under a Vampire Moon (44 page)

“I thought you should be comfortable while you’re here. I have no desire to make you uncomfortable or unhappy.”

Jeanne Louise’s eyes widened incredulously and then dropped meaningfully to the chains. All she said, however, was a sarcastic, “Helloooo?”

“I’ll remove those after you’ve heard my proposition,” he assured her solemnly. “I just needed them to keep you in place until I do.”

“You can stick your proposition,” she growled, and then narrowed her eyes on his face again and tried to slip into his thoughts, but again came up against a blank wall. The drugs were still affecting her. She fell back on the bed with annoyance and scowled at him.

“Fine. Tell me about this proposition of yours,” she said finally. Anything to get out of there.

He hesitated, but then shook his head. “I don’t think you’re in a state of mind to listen. You seem rather annoyed.”

“I wonder why,” she said dryly.

“Probably because you’re hungry,” he said mildly and held out the forkful of food again.

“I told you I’m not hun—” Jeanne Louise paused, scowling as her stomach gave a loud rumble. Apparently she was hungry, after all. It was probably the smell of food causing it, and the fact that she’d been so wrapped up in work she’d only eaten half her breakfast that morning. At least that’s what she’d told herself when she’d pushed her half-eaten meal away. Forget the fact that she’d recently been skipping meals a lot and only eating half meals when she did bother with food. It just didn’t seem to be quite as flavorful or tempting as it used to. Even chocolate didn’t seem as yummy as it once did.

In truth, Jeanne Louise suspected she was reaching that stage where food lost its appeal and became more a bother than anything else. Mind you, while her breakfast had seemed bland and boring that morning, the same thing smelled damned good now, and she actually was feeling a bit hungry, she acknowledged, eyeing the forkful of food. When he began to move the fork from side to side as if trying to tempt or amuse a child, she turned narrowed eyes his way. “If you start making airplane sounds, I’m not eating for sure.”

A startled chuckle slipped from his lips and he grinned. But the fork steadied. “Sorry.”

“Hmm,” she muttered and accepted the food. It was as good as it smelled, and after chewing and swallowing, she asked reluctantly, “How did you know it was my favorite?”

“I’ve had breakfast the same time as you in the mornings for years. Well, I did until a month ago,” he added and then shrugged. “It’s what you always get.”

Jeanne Louise peered more closely at him now, noting the buzz cut hair, dark brown eyebrows, baby blue eyes, and pleasant smile. He was a good-looking man. It was hard to imagine she hadn’t noticed him in the cafeteria at some point over these supposed years they’d had breaks together. But then she did tend to get into her work and walk around a little oblivious a lot of the time, she supposed. Jeanne Louise wanted so desperately to find a cure for her uncle and cousin, she even took her notes with her when she went for her breaks so that she could glance over them while she ate. As distracted as she got with her obsession, Jeanne Louise supposed Uncle Lucian himself could have been in the seat next to her, and unless he said or did something to catch her attention, she probably wouldn’t notice.

Her eyes shot back to the man as something he’d said caught her attention. She asked, “Until a month ago? Don’t you work for Argeneau Enterprises anymore?”

“Yes, I do,” he said quietly. “I took a couple months off.”

Jeanne Louise stared at him silently, processing this information. If this plan, whatever it was, hadn’t been in his mind before he’d taken the break . . . Well, it may be that no one had messed up. There wouldn’t have been anything for one of the team who kept tabs on mortals to find.

“Eat?” he asked quietly, urging the forkful of food closer to her lips.

Jeanne Louise’s eyes dropped to the fork and she almost shook her head in refusal on principle alone, but it seemed like cutting off her nose to spite her face when her stomach was rumbling eagerly and her mouth filling with saliva at just the prospect of what he offered. Sighing, she opened her mouth somewhat resentfully, closed it around the fork when he slid it carefully inside, and then drew the food off with compressed lips as he removed it. They were silent, eyeing each other as she chewed and swallowed, and he scooped up another forkful for her.

“It would be easier if I could just feed myself,” she pointed out dryly when he raised the next forkful.

“Yes, it would,” he agreed mildly, and when she opened her mouth to snap a bit impatiently about her preference, he slid the fork in, silencing her before the first word could leave her lips. As she chewed, he added, “But I know your kind are very strong and I don’t want to risk you trying to escape. I’m sure once you understand the situation, there won’t need to be such caution. But until then . . . This is just the better way to handle things.”

“My kind,” Jeanne Louise muttered the moment she’d swallowed. “We
are
human you know.”

“But not mortal,” he said quietly.

“The heck we aren’t. We can die just like you can. We’re just harder to kill. And live longer,” she added reluctantly.

“And stay young, and resist disease, and can self-heal,” he said quietly, slipping more food into her mouth.

Jeanne Louise eyed him as she chewed and swallowed, and then said, “So let me guess, you want that. To be young, to live longer, be stronger, be—”

He shook his head and silenced her by slipping food past her lips, even as he assured her, “I don’t.”

“Then what do you want?” Jeanne Louise asked with frustration when she could speak again. “What is this proposition?”

He hesitated, and she could see the debate going on behind his eyes, but in the end he shook his head again. “Not yet.”

This time, when he raised the fork to her lips, she turned her head away and muttered, “I’m not hungry,” and meant it. She was too frustrated and angry to care about food anymore. Besides what she’d eaten had taken the edge off her hunger.

He was silent for a minute, but then sighed, set the fork on the still half-full plate, and stood. “I’ll let you rest for a bit. The drugs should be out of your system by the time you wake up again. We can talk then.”

Jeanne Louise didn’t even acknowledge his words with a glance, but stared grimly at the wall as he bent and did something to make the bed slide back into a flat position. She didn’t move until she heard his footsteps cross the floor and the door open and close. Then Jeanne Louise slowly allowed herself to relax and let her eyes slip shut.

She wanted out of there and back to her own life. But she was also tired, and there was little she could do until the last of the drug wore off. The moment that happened, she would take control of the situation and make the man release her, Jeanne Louise promised herself. He wouldn’t be expecting that. While there were mortals who knew about them and knew some of their skills and strengths, the immortals’ ability to read and control minds was not usually one of the skills revealed. Mortals didn’t take the knowledge of those attributes well. It tended to freak them out to know their thoughts could be heard, and “her kind” had learned over the years to just keep that bit of knowledge to themselves. Of course, if his job had depended on that knowledge, he might have been given it. But Jeanne Louise doubted that was the case or he would keep her drugged rather than wait for her head to completely clear to make this proposition he had.

Whoever
he
was, she thought with a frown, as it occurred to her that she had no idea what his name was or much of anything else really. All she knew was that he worked in R and D at Argeneau Enterprises and took the same breakfast break she did.

Which meant he probably worked the night shift too. That was interesting. Mortals usually didn’t like the night shift. It was usually full of immortals, while the mortals stuck to the day shifts. She wondered briefly why he would work the night shift, and then let the matter go. She needed to rest. Jeanne Louise wanted to be awake and alert when he returned.

P
aul pulled the door closed behind him with a little sigh and moved up the hall to the stairs, his mind running over everything he’d done so far, looking for any problems that might arise, but he didn’t see any. He’d waited until she was off Argeneau property and away from the cameras on the grounds before making his move, and it had all gone as smoothly as he’d hoped.

Hers had been the only car at the traffic light when Paul had hit her with the tranquilizer. That, of course, had been pure luck. God or the fates had been smiling down on him this morning.

The tranq had worked as quickly as it did in testing and it had only taken seconds for him to get out of the back seat, shift her to the passenger seat, and slide behind the wheel. The whole thing had been over within a minute.

The only place where he could see a problem was when he’d crawled out of Lester’s trunk and got into the backseat of her car at Argeneau Enterprises in full view of at least three security cameras. But he’d worn dark clothes and a balaclava to cover his face. There wouldn’t have been much for the cameras to catch. Paul had snuck onto the property in the trunk of Lester’s car, but there wasn’t anything the other man could tell them. Paul had broken into Lester’s garage, jimmied his trunk open, got in, and hitched a ride into Argeneau Enterprises. It meant he’d had to hold it not quite closed until the end of the long night shift.

Moments before Lester had returned to the car, Paul had slid out of the trunk and made his way to Jeanne Louise Argeneau’s car. His main concern had been that it might be locked, but few bothered in the patrolled parking garage. It was so well guarded and had so many damn cameras, no one would try anything there as a rule. Much to his relief, Jeanne Louise hadn’t locked her car and she hadn’t worked past her usual half hour after end of shift, but had arrived just moments after he’d got in. If Paul was spotted moving from one car to the other on the cameras and security had been on their way, they’d been too late. His only worry now was that Lester might be thought of as a co-conspirator in the whole business and get in trouble. That would make him feel bad. Lester was a good guy.

Aware that he couldn’t do a damn thing for the man right now, Paul pushed that worry away as he mounted the steps out of the basement. He came out in the kitchen and he headed for the sink, intending to dump the food Jeanne Louise had left unfinished and rinse the plate. But halfway there he changed direction and instead walked out of the room and up the hall to the stairs to the second floor. Paul mounted those quickly, slipping one hand under the plate as he went to check that the food was still warm. It was and still looked fresh and tasty enough that it made him hungry. He only hoped Livy would think so too but feared she wouldn’t. Nothing seemed to tempt her appetite anymore.

“Daddy?”

Paul forced a smile at that soft query as he crossed the pretty pink bedroom to the canopied bed to peer down at the little blonde slip of a girl who almost disappeared in all the soft fluffy pillows and comforter. “Yes, baby. I’m here.”

“Mrs. Stuart said you went to work last night,” she said with a hurt expression.

“Yes, baby. Just for a bit. I’m back though,” he said quietly, not surprised that she knew. Paul had driven Jeanne Louise’s car to the parking lot where his own car waited, relieved to find it empty. He’d quickly switched her to his car, then had driven straight home and into his garage. He’d carried her down into the basement through the garage door to chain her up before heading into the house and finding the babysitter.

Mrs. Stuart had reported that Livy had suffered a rough night. He’d been disappointed but not surprised by the news. They all seemed to be bad lately. But not for long, Paul reassured himself, and then tipped the plate of food slightly for her to see. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” she said dully, turning her head away from the food he presented.

Paul hesitated, but then said gently, “Sweetie, you have to eat to keep your strength up so you can get healthy again.”

“Mrs. Stuart said I wasn’t going to get healthy again. That God was . . .” Livy frowned, as if trying to recall the exact wording, and then said, “calling me home to be with him. She said if I was very good and He liked me, maybe I’d get to see Mommy. But she doubted He would ’cause I was naughty and crying. Do you think God will like me even though I was crying?”

Paul simply stood frozen. All the blood seemed to have slid from his head and down his body to pool in his feet, leaving him empty and weak. His brain was having trouble processing what she had said. And then the blood came pounding back, rushing up through his body and slamming into his brain, bringing a burning rage with it.

He didn’t say a word; he didn’t dare. The expletives roaring through his head were not for a child’s ears. After a moment of struggle, Paul managed to bark one word, “Yes.” Then he turned stiffly and simply walked out of the room, straight downstairs and back into the kitchen. His movements were jerky and automatic as he scraped the food off the plate into the garbage pail. He then walked to the sink, but rather than rinse it under the tap as he intended, Paul suddenly found himself smashing the empty plate across the top of it. He didn’t even realize he was going to do it, and hardly noticed let alone cared that bits of shattered china flew up to spike his face and neck.