Temptation Calls Page 10

  “Are missing,” she finished for him.

  He reached into his suit jacket and withdrew his notepad. As he did so, she noticed that he’d slipped his holster back on. His gun, shiny, black and deadly, was tucked beneath his arm, ready for use.

  He must have sensed where her attention had been drawn. “It’s part of what I do.”

  “I know.” Just as she knew that he’d killed with it recently. Would he use it against her one day? Or against one of her friends? Maybe she should rethink not only his offer to help, but any kind of involvement with him. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  Myriad emotions flashed across her face and Peter was hard-pressed to understand her fear. Until it occurred to him that perhaps, in her life, no one had helped her before. That she was distrustful of the systems that had failed her. Which for some reason made him think of his FBI agent friend Diana Reyes.

  They’d worked together on two different cases now and in both instances, he’d sensed there was something not quite normal with Diana’s lover, Ryder, and their friends. Diana had never confided in him, but when she’d asked Peter for help during her last case, he hadn’t been reluctant to do what she’d asked. Just as he knew that if he called, Diana would come without hesitation. Maybe it was time to call in his marker.

  “I have a friend. I think she could help us because…There’s something different about her as well.”

  Samantha looked puzzled. “Why would she help you? Help us?”

  “She’s a straight-up kind of person and I helped her out a little while ago.”

  Once again, he detected a mix of emotions, concern followed by acceptance. “I guess I don’t have much choice, do I? Because I suspect you won’t leave me alone until I cave, right?”

  He smiled. “What makes you think I’ll leave you alone now that you have caved?”

  She shook her head and smiled in response. “I don’t know what to say, Peter. How to thank you.”

  He took hold of her hand and rose, bringing her up with him. “I’m just doing what’s right, Samantha.”

  “Right. What’s right,” she repeated sadly. Peter wanted to comfort her, but found that he couldn’t. He was confused himself about what he was getting into. After all, she’d made it clear she might not ever be ready for a relationship and he understood her feelings only too well. He still didn’t know if he was ready for one himself. Especially given the secrets Samantha refused to share and the way his last serious relationship had ended.

  With that thought, he promised he’d make some calls and be back soon. Samantha smiled at that, and he told himself not to read too much into it. Nor in the embrace they shared at the door.

  Because if he did, he might only be setting himself up for a big disappointment.

  Chapter 15

  E dward had learned from his mistakes. Too many bodies led to too many questions. As angry as he was with his minions for failing to grab his next specimen, he had to keep them around for another try. But not right away. That would only arouse too much suspicion, especially if as his assistants said, Samantha Turner had a cop hanging around.

  Edward had done a little research but had unearthed nothing on Ms. Turner, except one article about the shooting in front of her shelter. That would explain the police officer. But two of the suspects had been killed and the third seemed to have flown. Which meant that police surveillance was likely to stop soon.

  He could wait another few days. He still had the other two vamps to play with.

  Too bad about the third, rather plain one. But then again, she’d lacked the spirit of his earlier captives. Lacked their fire. He wondered if that was why she’d succumbed so easily despite her age.

  No matter. His goons had tossed her body onto a small secluded patch of meadow just behind the building. The punk vamp—Blake—had said the sun would take care of her remains and he had been right. With just a few early morning hours of sunlight, Esperanza’s body had shriveled as the sun emptied her life’s fluids. By noon, she’d barely been more than skin over skeleton.

  As Edward had watched the decomposition, it occurred to him just what he could use her for. His assistants brought her body back inside rather than letting the process continue until she was just a pile of dust.

  It was amazing really. Such strong creatures in the night, but so frail during the day.

  That was the mistake he had made with Ms. Turner. He should never have sent his men after her at night, when she was strongest. They needed to attack during the day when she’d be weaker. When she’d be alone in the shelter.

  But not now when the detective might be lingering. The female vampire had revealed the identity of another of her friends. He would not expect someone to be after him, Edward thought, turning his attention to the screen, where his two captives were visible from the camera mounted in the far corner of their cage. The female cradled her wounded mate, rocked him in her arms like a mother might a child.

  The young punk vamp had been weak after today’s trials and bloodletting. Maybe too weak. It might be wise to wait another few days before experimenting with him again. Or with the female. She was the more delicate of the two.

  Tapping his finger against his lips, he considered the delays in his plans. He needed another transfusion, but he couldn’t risk losing either of these subjects before seizing another, stronger one.

  Ms. Turner or her friend Diego might eventually help him solve the puzzle of immortality, but he had to catch them first. Until then he needed to keep these two alive and relatively well. He really should give them a bag or two of blood. Maybe after he watched them feed off one another and share a vampire’s kind of love—sex and blood mixed into a sensual and violent dance.

  Once the vampire’s blood in his veins cured him, would he feel the fires of his youth once more? He longed for the yearnings and drive his old, sick body could no longer support.

  Ay, youth, he thought after the platinum-haired Blake plunged into Meghan while she sank her teeth into his neck. It was truly wasted on the young.

  Peter knew her number by heart.

  “Special Agent Reyes,” she answered and he teased her as he always did. “Very Special Agent Reyes.”

  “Peter.” There was genuine affection in her tone. “How are you?”

  “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.” He explained to her about the drive-by shooting case and all that had happened, including his killing two of the suspects.

  “I’m sorry. I know that must have been hard for you.”

  “So many dead, Diana. And I still can’t understand why.”

  “I wish I had an answer, but I don’t. I also know that isn’t the only reason you’re calling,” she said and in the background, he heard someone talking. Her voice was muffled as she said, “I need to take this call.” She had probably covered the mouthpiece with her hand.

  When she came back on, she said, “I’m sorry. It’s a zoo around here.”

  “Let me not keep you,” he said, reconsidering his earlier decision to ask for her help given how busy she sounded.

  “Peter, this is me, remember. If you need something, I’m here.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief and blurted out, “That’s good, because I think I need your help.” Explaining about Samantha, he finished by saying, “Whatever we do, it needs to be private, Diana.”

  “It goes no further than me, and maybe Ryder. I think he knows about The Blood Bank. He may be able to help us.
”

  Peter sensed his friend knew just how important this case was to him. “Can the two of you come over tonight? Meet Samantha and hear what she has to say?”

  “We’ll be there.”

  Peter gave her the address for the shelter.

  It was late. Samantha had asked that Peter arrange the meeting at a time when the women and children were in bed and asleep. She didn’t want them to know about her problem.

  “Thanks for coming at such an odd hour,” he said and motioned for Ryder and Diana to make themselves comfortable on the couch. “Samantha is downstairs making some coffee. She’ll be up in a second.”

  “You didn’t say what was up on the phone.” Diana shot an uneasy glance between him and Ryder.

  Ryder was clearly jealous of Peter, thinking Peter might make a play for Diana. In the past, he might have. Only now, his interests lay elsewhere.

  And Ryder was aware of Peter’s assistance in saving Ryder’s friend, Melissa Danvers, nearly a year ago when she’d been kidnapped.

  Peter had no doubt that Diana would help Samantha. As for Ryder…Peter suspected he was a man of honor who recognized when a debt was owed. Peter had just called in that debt.

  “Samantha has some friends who are missing,” he said. “The last place all of them were seen was at The Blood Bank.”

  “Some patrons at The Lair mentioned that bar to me, so I went for a visit. A bad place to be,” Ryder interjected.

  Peter nodded. “I agree, only that doesn’t change what’s happened. Any suggestions?”

  Diana leaned forward. “Let’s hear what Samantha has to say, first. Maybe then we can decide what to do.”

  Footsteps sounded on the wooden floor of the hall as Samantha stepped into the room. The china she carried rattled and she dropped the tray she was carrying. There was a muffled crash as it hit the rug, followed by an angry rumbling sound, like that of a large jungle cat.

  Peter whirled to see what had made the sound and froze in his place, unable to believe what he was seeing.

  Ryder had jumped to his feet, his hands clenched into fists by his side. His eyes glowed with an unnaturally bright light and before Peter’s eyes, long fangs erupted from Ryder’s mouth. Peter drew his weapon and trained it on the thing that Ryder had become. Diana stepped in the way of his shot.

  She held Ryder back when he would have launched himself across the room. “Ryder, stop. What are you doing?”

  Samantha was suddenly at Peter’s back. He turned to find her transforming. Mutating into something…

  Her marvelous blue eyes turned cold and a bright otherwordly light bled into her irises. From beneath the edge of her top lip, her incisors elongated, inching downward until the now lethal-looking fangs nearly reached midchin. A strange aura of power surrounded her.

  “Holy shit.” He raised his gun, placed it point-blank in the middle of her chest.

  “You told me once that you would never hurt me. Would you do it now, Peter?” she asked, her voice low, with a rumbly edge. She stepped toward him, and it took all his strength to keep his weapon trained on her as he battled his confused emotions about the creature she’d become.

  “Stop, Samantha.” He would shoot her before he let her take any action against his friends.

  “You would shoot me, wouldn’t you? You have little fear of violence, but then again, neither do Ryder and I.” She raised her hand to cup his cheek, but he took a step back, fear churning in his stomach.

  “What are you?” But he already knew the answer. An impossible answer. One out of comic books and horror movies. Not one out of real life.

  “She’s a vampire, Peter. She’s the one who made me what I am,” Ryder said with deadly calm.

  Chapter 16

  1863, a Civil War battlefield

  S amantha walked among the bodies, her long skirt trailing through blood and gore. So much violence and destruction. So much loss of precious life.

  There were more dead here than wounded on the battlefield. And those that were wounded would soon be gone, drained of life by the band of vampires lurking in the night, seeking out such easy prey. Her stomach turned at the thought that she, too, would feed soon. The smell of the blood had started the change over which she had little control. She was still too young a vampire to have much command over where and when she transformed.

  Disgusted with her need, she walked to the farthest edge of the battlefield, near a copse of trees where some combatants had sought shelter from the barrage of gunfire.

  The light of the full moon was strong tonight, exposing the inhumanity of the fight. Near the woods, there were mostly gray uniforms, stained with blood.

  Samantha was nearly dizzy from need. It had been a week since she’d fed. She only fed when she had to and even then, asked herself why she did so. Why did she cling so futilely to the twisted life she’d been given? Why didn’t she just end her miserable existence?

  Some spark of hope remained in her. Some spark of humanity that kept her from killing like the others.

  That hope, that humanity was why she stood at the edge of the moonlit killing field, searching out someone newly dead. Fresh blood was always the most powerful. The more powerful it was, the longer she could wait to feed again.

  She spotted one young soldier, barely feet away. Even with the distance between them, she heard the butterfly beat of his heart. She walked over, knelt beside him. He was so young, he hardly had a beard. And here he was, dying all alone.

  Tears came to her eyes. She had died much the same way, but she wouldn’t let that happen to him. She held his hand tightly. With the last of his strength, the young soldier grabbed her weakly, as if trying to cling to life.

  She comforted him as best she could, speaking to him gently until that fluttery beat stopped and his dark brown eyes glazed over in death. Tenderly she cradled him, willing his soul peace in the afterlife. Asking forgiveness for what she would do next.

  Easing open the collar on the rough wool jacket of his uniform, she lowered her head.

  Screams of men dying pierced the night. Not the cries of wounded men. No, these were the shouts of the able-bodied. Shots followed as they tried to defend themselves against their attackers.

  Samantha dropped the young soldier and raced toward the struggle, disbelieving that the other vampires would be so bold as to attack a large group of armed soldiers. She dodged trees, branches and brush whipping against her as she sped through the woods. Scrambling one way and then another, over tangled roots and fallen logs, in her haste to reach the battle. One between human and vampire.

  As she emerged from the far edge of the woods, she realized why the vampires had been so bold. This was no large group of soldiers. Just a small contingent of medics and doctors tending to the wounded. The larger battalion must have moved on, leaving the medical unit behind.

  The shots were fewer now as most of the men had been overtaken by the members of her group. She watched as they fed on one healthy man or another. From within the tent, the shadows on the canvas walls played out a gruesome scene. Still disbelieving they could be so callous, she raced to the entry of the tent and stopped dead at the sight greeting her. Vampires moved from one wounded man to another, feeding freely on those too weak to defend themselves. Pitiful moans and pleas, along with the glee of the vampires, filled the tent.

  Samantha couldn’t watch anymore.

  She fled outside, where things were not much better. The stronger vampires,
who took delight not just in feeding, but in the fight of their prey, were grappling with the able-bodied soldiers. Their struggles were a grim ballet in the bright moonlight. Here, as on the battlefield, the smell of blood was strong. The vampires’ attacks spilled fresh wetness onto the men’s uniforms and onto the ground. A wasted feast, but her group was not interested in creating others to add to their number. That would make for more competition in feeding, so after they had nearly drained their victims, they left them to die rather than turning them.

  Samantha approached one fallen man, hunger driving her. But then she heard someone cry out. There was something familiar about the voice. Another cry came and she searched out its source.

  Ten or more feet away, the moonlight played against the grotesque silhouette of four of her group, viciously dining on one poor man. Latched on to his arms and legs, they were tearing into him like a wild pack of hyenas. As he pleaded, they tugged and shook him. He turned his face up to the moonlight and cried out for assistance, his pleas weaker than from the moment before.

  Samantha froze as his face was revealed to her. Dr. Ryder Latimer. One of the few men who had been kind to her in her other life.

  “No.” Running toward him, she shouted and fully transformed. By the time she reached the gruesome scene, her shouts had become warning growls. The intensity of her anger ripped her compatriots from their feast. Although they were not much older than she was and were her equals strength-wise, the ferocity of her snarling warnings drove them away from their feast.

  Dr. Latimer dropped to the ground limply.

  Samantha stopped short and took note of his wounds. Dark, almost black blood stained each leg. A neat round hole in the middle of his abdomen. She’d seen enough of those during this horrible conflict to know he had been shot. Probably a stray bullet from someone trying to defend themselves. Blood seeped from wounds on his arms, but the greatest damage was on his neck, where one of the vampires had nearly torn his throat open.