Trust Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines Book 8) Read online

  I took a look at the file, my eyes widening when I saw the kind of stuff he was into. “Where do you find these guys?” I murmured, paging down.

  “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.”

  He was at that.

  * * *

  We’d gotten pretty good at stalking people. Or rather, Carter was teaching me how to be a stalker and it wasn’t all that hard for a vampire. Especially when hunting other vampires, who were pretty clueless about being hunted themselves. Did you know that the Volkswagen Jetta has 15.5 cubic feet of trunk space? It made it especially easy to cart a body from the heart of the city to one of the lesser populated districts.

  The vamp we were after was one Armand LeFavre, one of the richest men in the city, which also made him easy to find. It was simpler than you’d think for me to get him away from his entourage. Just a low cut top and a tremulous smile, and he followed me out the back door of the Crocodile Lounge where Carter waited to shoot him with an arrow of the non-exploding variety.

  Armand went down like a sack of potatoes, almost pulling me off balance, but I quickly recovered, dragging him to the mouth of the alley where we’d stashed the car.

  “Do you want a hand?” Carter asked as I popped open the trunk.

  “I’ve got him, can you get his hat?”

  “Sure thing, sunshine,” he grinned, humming a few bars from Play That Funky Music White Boy as he retrieved it and climbed into the driver’s seat. I still hadn’t gotten the chance to drive on any of our hunts.

  In less than twenty minutes, we had Armand chained up in the abandoned garage we’d commandeered for our missions. Far enough away from prying ears at that time of night, but close enough for Carter to hack into the neighboring roofing company’s wi-fi.

  “You ready?” Carter asked, hand on the shaft of the arrow.

  “Yep, I got this,” I nodded, ready to grab hold of his will the instant Armand came to. It was incredibly easy, the guy couldn’t have been turned more than ten years ago tops. Without having to worry about him trying to break free, we could relax and take our time with it.

  “So, Armand. I hear you’re keeping a pair of girls in your apartment, is that true?” I asked after I had his full attention.

  “True,” he replied, his eyes intent on me.

  “When you get home, you’re going to let them go and you won’t bring any other girls home with you again. Or boys,” I amended quickly. “When you feed, it’ll only be when absolutely necessary and as humane as possible. Do you understand?”

  “Understand.”

  Carter and I had gone around and around on that one. It wasn’t practical to send city vamps off in search of wildlife to feed on and I was trying to curb their more violent instincts, not starve them to death. Finally, we’d agreed on a plan of reformation rather than extermination that he was on board with.

  “In fact,” I continued. “You definitely don’t like rough sex anymore at all. The only person you’re going to have sex with is yourself.” I looked to Carter for approval, but he was already shaking his head.

  “Naw, Halloween is coming. Make him hump pumpkins or something.”

  “You’re sick,” I laughed, trying to pull myself together again, but all I could do was picture Armand in his two thousand dollar suit, trying to sweet talk a jack-o’-lantern. “I’m not doing that. I’ll never be able to look at a pumpkin again.”

  “Fine, tell him he’s free to be as rough as he wants with himself. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll off himself.”

  “Get the laptop ready,” I said with a shake of the head. Now came my favorite part, except for the whole cutting the circle of violence bit. Carter pulled up the bank’s website and set the laptop onto an old desk chair, wheeling it in front of our captive.

  “Alright, Mr. LeFavre. If you would be so kind as to log into your numbered account?” The man leaned forward and typed the information in obediently. “Now for the fun stuff. Who should we give it to this time?”

  “How about the ALS Foundation?” Carter suggested.

  “No, we did that the time before last. Greenpeace? No… let’s go Mothers Against Drunk Driving this time. Do we have that one?”

  “Yeah, sure, give me a minute,” Carter replied, fingers moving fast over the keyboard to retrieve the information. “Here we go.”

  “Thanks,” I beamed at him. “Be a good boy and transfer half of your account balance to this account here.” In a few minutes it was done. He’d paid a hefty penalty for his crimes, been effectively neutered, and a worthy charity found themselves richer without knowing where it came from. Win-win-win.

  Carter was right. I did feel better.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  By the time the sun went down the next night, I was done feeling sorry for myself, ready to make plans for the future. We’d been kicking around a few ideas of where to go next after the worst of the heavy hitters were taken care of in Chicago and Carter had made a fair argument for New York City. I drew up a grid on the big white board he’d put up for me, listing pros and cons of New York, Washington DC, and Detroit – the three biggest contenders – while he practiced with his bow, aiming for a target on the roof across the street.

  He was teaching me how to shoot, though I sucked at it. I kept flinching every time the gun went off. I was getting better with the bow, but I knew I’d never be as good as he was with it. It simply wasn’t my forte.

  “Hey, you should go as some kind of an archer for Halloween, that way you can carry around your bow out in the open without having to worry about it.”

  “I always carry my bow out in the open. It’s not like I have to worry about being stopped by cops.”

  “True,” I allowed. “But I bet there are some cool costumes we could come up with. I started making a smaller list on the corner of the white board. “How about Hawkeye?”

  “Dude, he is the weakest of the Avengers, without a doubt.”

  “Not Black Widow?”

  “No way, she could kill you six ways just by looking at you.”

  I turned away from the white board to face him. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that because of her other, um… assets?”

  He was too busy lining up a shot to reply, but his lips did curve into a smile. “Green Arrow maybe,” he said when the arrow was away.

  “I could see that,” I nodded, adding it to the list. “We should really go shopping then if we want to have time to make something super cool.”

  “What are you going to go as?”

  “I don’t know. Any ideas?”

  “How about Selene from Underworld?”

  “Black leather catsuit?” I made a face. “No thanks. That leaves off Black Widow too, so don’t go suggesting any red wigs.”

  “You’re taking all the fun out of Halloween,” he said with a disgruntled shake of the head and I laughed.

  “Sorry to ruin it for you. But who wants to be a vampire when I am one every other day of my life? If I had the time I might go for something fancy like Galadriel or Freja. Hey, you could go as Legolas!” I declared in a sudden rush of inspiration, but he was less than convinced.

  “I’m not pretty enough to play Legolas.”

  “Maybe you could be one of the dwarves then,” I teased, sticking my tongue out at him before I turned back to the board. “Besides, there’s no way we’re going to be able to make something cool enough to look Elvish in time.”

  “You know, you could always buy something ready made, you don’t have to make it from scratch.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “I’m just saying, you do have more money than everything we’ve stolen combined.”

  “We didn’t steal it, we encouraged them to donate.”

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Speaking of a snoozefest, shouldn’t you be getting ready to go to that thing tonight?”

  “Oh right, the thing!” I glanced at the clock, I had barely enough time to slip on something more presentable than my bathrob
e and toe socks and get there if I didn’t try anything too fancy with my hair.

  Vampire speed is a boon at such times, and I made it to the Bank of America Theater in record time. Still, I was glad I already had my ticket, as I barely found my seat by the time the house lights dimmed. I knew the boxed seats had a less than ideal view of the stage, but I didn’t care. Mostly I wanted a semi-private way to enjoy the music, and oh, the sound quality was wonderful!

  It didn’t bother me that musical theater wasn’t Carter’s thing. Even though it was fun to share the experience with another person, there was something to be said for going alone. I hadn’t realized how liberating it was to go places all by my lonesome until I left my entourage behind in San Francisco. So far I’d seen three shows, the ballet and been to the movies twice since we got to the city. Carter had come along for the movies, but only because he had a thing for Zoe Saldana, even green.

  Intermission came before I knew it, and not needing to use the facilities or wanting to elbow my way down for a glass of champagne, I sat back to wait for the show to start again.

  There are times when my Spidey senses kick in, and though I was completely alone in the box, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. When the touch on my shoulder came, I was ready for it. Unfortunately, so was my attacker. Instead of being caught in my wrist lock when I launched myself out of my seat, he twisted out of it and pulled me off balance, tumbling me into the aisle to press me against the deeply curtained walls.

  His familiar scent registered before my eyes adjusted to the gloom enough to catch his features and I stopped struggling at once. “Bishop?”

  “I guess I should’ve called first, huh?” he smiled, making no move to set me free. Trapped between the prison of his solid chest and the soft wall, I could only stare up at him, utterly overwhelmed by his presence, especially with that dream so fresh in my mind. He looked good, but then he always did, his green eyes dark in the uncertain light. Dressed in a dark shirt and slacks, he blended with the theater crowd well enough, complementing my simple black dress. His hair was longer, but didn’t fall over one eye as it had in my dream.

  I realized I was staring and looked away. “What are you doing here?” I finally managed to get out. “And why did you attack me?”

  “I only touched you, you attacked me.”

  “Sorry, my world is kind of touchy these days. What are you doing here?” I repeated since he hadn’t bothered to answer me. “This isn’t about the Elder thing, is it? I have no intention of going back.”

  “I just came to talk to you.”

  It was hard to get a read on him. His voice was deceptively light, but I could tell he was as affected by our close proximity as I was. “You could’ve emailed me, that address hasn’t changed.”

  “No, this is definitely something we should talk about in person.”

  Did he think I was ready to start things back up with him again now that Rob and I were through? Was I? A week ago, I would’ve said no with total conviction. But now? Despite some of the playful banter with Carter, there was nothing remotely romantic between us. This was the closest I’d gotten to feeling anything beyond despair since I’d left Mexico.

  People started to filter back in as the intermission was almost over and I made a snap decision. “Come back to my place then.”

  Bishop let me up, and we fought our way to the exits against the tide of people eager to get back to their seats. He might’ve had a car outside, but we didn’t take it. The night was cool but clear, and the walk not all that far. There was no idle chatter of the weather or what either one of us had been up to since we’d last spoken, and I appreciated his lack of questions. Or maybe he already knew everything there was to know about my time in Chicago? He’d known where I’d be that night and I was fairly sure Carter hadn’t spilled the beans.

  I hesitated at the front door, wanting to avoid a scene if at all possible. “You know I’m here with Carter, right?”

  “Yeah, I know.” His tone left no doubt that the hunter still wasn’t his favorite guy.

  “Can I trust you not to try anything?”

  “I’ll behave if he does,” he promised.

  “Cool beans.” I figured we had a fifty-fifty chance at avoiding Armageddon. The odds got considerably better when I discovered Carter wasn’t home. There was a note on the white board that said he was out investigating some leads and he’d be back with ice cream later. “Would you like something to drink? I can offer you a beer, cranberry juice or a mug of O positive,” I smiled, tossing my purse on the kitchen counter.

  “No thanks, I’m good,” he declined, making a slow circuit of the apartment. I was certain he’d already catalogued every scrap of personal belongings in the open space and processed every speck of information on the white board. It reminded me so much of his lap around my apartment in San Francisco on the night we’d first met, I wondered how much of it was deliberate and how much was habit. You can take a man out of the Order, but you can’t take the Order out of the man. Or maybe he was done searching for Carys. Was that what he’d come to tell me?

  Suddenly I was the one to need a drink, and I poured myself a cool glass of juice, needing that moment to steel myself for the news about to come.

  I turned around to ask him what he wanted to talk about, but the words fell away as I caught him staring at me. I stared back, unsure how to read the emotion I saw on his face. There was longing there for certain, and regret, and a hunger that burned as brightly as the last time I’d seen him. Deep inside I felt a flare of awareness – there was nothing to keep us apart. All I had to do was take a single step forward.

  We stood there for long moments, neither one of us moving so much as a hair. I licked my lips, the tension swelling so thick I thought I heard him groan at the sight of my tongue. “So…”

  Just like that the spell was broken and he looked away, his emotions retreating under the thick walls he’d come to live with. “Shit, I don’t even know where to start,” he muttered in disgust.

  “I do.” I pushed away from the kitchen counter, my feet barely touching the ground, as I crossed the room in a few strides to reach him. I tried not to over think it. What it meant that he was here, whether or not I was ready, or if this was really picking up where we left off, or something else. After weeks of trying to suppress anything close to an emotion, I just wanted to feel something.

  The moment his lips touched mine I felt something alright, I felt it through every part of my body. My skin hummed with electricity wherever we touched and at all the good parts in between.

  God, he tasted so good, so familiar, so right… I didn’t stop to think about where this was leading, I only wanted to get it there.

  His soft groan of pleasure when my hands slipped under his shirt to splay over his taut muscles sent shivers through me and I wanted to hear it again. Growing bolder, I urged him to the stairs, not wanting anything to interrupt us, especially not an overprotective hunter who was probably armed to the teeth.

  I stepped up on the first stair, the advantage of height letting me take charge of the kiss. At least until his hands slid under my backside, lifting me up against him. My legs wound around his waist obediently, a ragged moan leaving my lips as he settled himself against the tiny scrap of lace guarding my throbbing core. Locking my ankles behind him, I ground myself against his rock hard length, two could play at that game.

  In the next instant I found myself slammed up against the wall, his hips rocking into me even as his teeth scraped at my throat. My head lolled to the side automatically, but instead of sinking his fangs into me, he leaned forward to catch my earlobe between his teeth.

  “Not yet,” he breathed. “First let’s go upstairs and let me show you how much I’ve missed you.” With a final teasing thrust, his hands cupped my behind, fingers exploring as he climbed the stairs, his mouth questing lower to find the peak of my breast through the thin material of my dress. By the time he got me to the bed, I didn’t know whether t
o hang on or let go, I only knew I didn’t want him to stop touching me.

  He laid me down much like he had on the riverbank in my dream. Unlike the dream, there was no soft and slow exploration. Bishop’s kiss was all about urgency, as if he might die if he didn’t have all of me. Our clothes started to come off, starting with his shirt, and quickly followed by my panties. I reached for his belt, wanting to taste every inch of his skin, but he pulled back to look at me, slowing things down for a moment.

  “I missed you so much, Anja. I wasn’t sure you’d want to be with me like this ever again.”

  “This part was never our problem, Bishop,” I smiled, leaning up to kiss his neck as I worked at the stiff leather.

  “I know, I’m an idiot. We’ve established that.”

  “I’ve come to realize there are far worse things you could’ve done by comparison.” In the end we’d broken up over his doubts and fears about my compulsion more than any deliberate acts of his, and I could understand the motive behind them. “Now, less talking,” I urged, arching my back beneath him. “Do that thing with your mouth again. That was amazing.”

  When the touch didn’t come, I relaxed, looking up at him in puzzlement, only to find his forehead furrowed with regret.

  “I can’t let you do this,” he said, carefully tugging down my skirt for modesty’s sake.

  “Why not?” He’d certainly been on board a minute ago and I could feel his interest digging into my hip so it wasn’t a physical thing.

  “Because there’s something you need to know about Rob.”

  “You seriously want to talk about Rob, right now?”

  “You deserve to have all the facts about what happened between you.”

  “Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.” All I wanted to do was go back to feeling the way I had when he was touching me, but that part of the night was clearly over by the looks of it. I fell back against the mattress with a groan. “How do you even know what happened between us anyway? Jeez, did Maggie tell you? I swear to God, I’m going to duct tape her mouth shut.”