Be Still My Heart (8 page)

Sasha breathed in the amusement and got a nose full of mist and a coughing reaction. That had never happened before.

“And I don’t see any way of correcting it, shy of ruining your attire this time. You game?”

Giggling and nodding and drowning. Sasha had never tried that combination before and felt dizzy with the sensation. Or maybe it was the way he’d moved his kiss to her shoulder, sliding his tongue down her arm, before getting diverted to her breast. And then, he was suckling right through the sodden blouse, driving her into realms of ecstasy she’d never known.

Sasha careened right into absolute pleasure, tightening her thighs about him while rocking in throes of it. Light seared the enclave. Sparks fired through both of them. Heat fused them, while their hearts beat in unison. He was waiting when it ended. Lifting his head in order to put his nose against hers, blinking often against an onslaught of water droplets that turned him into an absolute water god.

Sasha gulped. And kept gulping. She was very lucky they were in water. He’d never know the depth of her emotion. She had no idea love such as this existed. It thrust through the hatred of centuries and then rinsed it away. Magically. Completely.

“What else does your little shower do?”

Oh. He was cocky. Self-assured. And perfect. Sasha regarded him for long moments while neither of them moved. And then she said it.

“Water. Vibrate.”

And then all she had to do was hold on.

“Two of spades. Four of hearts. Ace of spades. Three of diamonds. You wish
another
card?”

Stuart nodded. He didn’t know why the croupier still asked. It was a two of diamonds. He’d reached another perfect twenty-one, and she’d be handing him another stack of $10,000 chips. If they used cards he couldn’t see through, it would be a different matter, but the casino hadn’t figured it out yet. It might not be a dream, but since it was his alternate reality, he got to win. Every time.

He’d also picked up a trio of blond women, one on his right, two on the other side. All lightly-tanned, wearing sleeveless sheaths that barely covered their assets, thin stilettos that made them look like whooping cranes, and teeth so white they blinded one. They were only the nearest in this crowd. There was more than one brunette trying to catch his attention behind him, too. And if he wasn’t mistaken, a redhead or two, as well. Women. Stuart Findlay was surrounded by gorgeous women. None of his associates would believe it. He was having the same issue. He also had two large-muscled casino employees watching him from behind the dealer. They’d been there since he’d changed to ten thousand dollar chips.

He wished them luck of watching. He wasn’t cheating. Not exactly. Because it couldn’t be his fault they used see-through cards.

“Ten of hearts. Six of spades.”

He had sixteen while the dealer had twenty. One face card up. Stuart pondered it while toying with his ninety-thousand dollar bet, stacking and re-stacking the chips, and listening to the clacking sound of them while the whispering behind him grew. It was all for show. The next card was the five of diamonds. He was making a fortune. Not that he needed another one, but the vampire assassin chick had asked him to be a diversion toward midnight, and he was certainly doing his part.

Stuart scraped the felt with his card showing he wanted another one.

“Are you certain, Monsieur Ebonovski?”

She said it with such a cute French accent, while fluttering her eyelashes at him, it was almost enough to divert him. It’s obvious that was their plan. That’s why he had the prettiest dealer, was alone at the table, and constantly plied with the worst-tasting Scotch he’d ever tasted. It was even worse than the piss-water Brown Lemon’s pub served. That was being generous. It was so bad, Stuart had taken one sip and spat it right back into the cut crystal tumbler.

Odd…that a casino of this quality, possessing five-star hotel suites, would serve sewer water and call it Scotch.

“
Oui. S’il vous plait?”

His continental charm seemed to be increasing with his newfound ability to speak French without much of an accent. His sex appeal was increasing, as well. Or it was the amount of chips he’d won, and the denomination of them. He wouldn’t think that way. The women hovered about him because he was a sexy man. It wasn’t the money.

Yeah right, Stuart.

The croupier turned over the five, the sounds of a group gasp went up, and then all hell broke loose. Sirens went off throughout the room, ripping through the air with sonic thrust. Stuart clapped his hands to his ears as the screaming all about him started making sense.

“Fire!”

Stuart shoved the stack of chips at the blondes, flicked a few toward the dealer and was on his feet, vaulting the table and past the crowd before anyone took another breath. He’d worry over that display of athleticism later. Right now, having the speed of a ninja, along with the agility of one, seemed a very good thing. It would help him find that vampire chick. Damn her insistence that she didn’t need him with her.

If she disappeared, what the hell was he supposed to do? He didn’t even know her name, he only knew her chauffeur by a first name. Aside from which, Vaughn used Stuart mainly as a form of entertainment. The man would be no help for a Chicagoan stranded in Monte Carlo under a fictitious name, possessing no other ID, and only the chips in his pockets to sustain him. Of course, they were all ten grand chips. Or more. He remembered stuffing higher denomination ones in there, too.

His shrink had been right. He was too self-absorbed. And he couldn’t see Mary Sue anywhere. It was getting smokier. Darker, too. And too many in the crowd decided screaming was an appropriate reaction to a disaster. Stuart stood atop a roulette table, his eyes narrowed and his hands cocked into fists at his sides. Not a dark-haired vampire among those masses. But he couldn’t see fully. A crouch and jump sent him right at a rafter, easily two stories above his head, and there he hung, doing a hand-over-hand spin from this vantage. Nope. Not a black-haired vixen anywhere among the masses. And it was rather fun having superpowers.

Smoke was obscuring most of the large room, but it didn’t look the kind brought on by a hotel fire. That sort of smoke would cling to the ceiling first, creating a haze that hurt lungs to breathe it in. It surely wouldn’t look like someone had dropped several tear gas canisters in the middle of the floor. Nor, should it look like a weapon-toting SWAT team was streaming through the tables. And they really shouldn’t all stop in a circle below him and point myriad weapons up at him. All of which made no sense.

“Marvin Leon Ebonovski?”

One of the khaki-clothed militia asked it with a loud, barking, authoritative voice. Stuart debated it. Stay silent. Admit nothing. Just hang from the rafter like a streamer from a party popper. Or leap to another rafter, using his super powers.

Guns cocked below him as if reading his mind. He wondered absently if possessing supposed vampire powers withstood bullets ripping through him. Probably. But he wasn’t testing the theory. It was obvious that vampire assassin chick had given him an alias taken from an International Terrorist. Or something. Some mate she was turning out to be.

“Drop Mister Ebonovski, or we’ll shoot.”

Falling two stories would break an ankle. They didn’t look like they considered that bit of this equation. Stuart had never considered himself imaginative. Dull. Boring. Stuffy. Not imaginative. Yet something in him had initiated not only an episode from a campy science fiction channel, but every moment it just seemed to get worse.

“You have until the count of two!”

Two?
What’s wrong with these people? Nobody gets just two.

“One!”

Stuart dropped, landing easily and lithely, without so much as a bruise. But before he could move, they tossed some sort of net over him, and then one of the bastards slapped a cross-shaped banner right across his chest, putting him into a shock-like state.

“Who…are you people?” He was in tremors. Brought on by extreme shock. It came out in the question.

“
Hunters
.”

Hunters. In the casino. Right.

“What…do you want?” Stuart was losing consciousness. The words were slurred and nearly inaudible.

“You’re bait, buddy. Now move!”

Now he was a worm? Great. That was his last conscious thought.

“You found him?”

Sasha gripped the phone and watched the 60-inch flat screen Stuart had raved over. There wasn’t anything to see in the dimly lit area being projected. Nobody ever saw Akron. It’s what kept his Vampire Assassin League anonymous and therefore, efficient.

“You doubted me? Sasha.”

The plane dropped and her hands slipped on the phone. She had sweaty palms and was being teased. And the plane was experiencing turbulence. Not a good combination.

“Where is he?”

“He’s not worth it, Sasha. Truly. He’s a very uptight Ivy League educated stuffed shirt. Nothing unusual on his record. And I have it on good authority he’s a horrid prisoner. Won’t shut up. Argues ceaselessly.”

“That’s my man.”

“Truly?”

“He’s my mate, Akron. I can’t change it. Come to think on it, I don’t want to. All I want is that man back with me. So, why don’t you just tell me where he is and get out of the way?”

“It’s difficult.”

“I do difficult for lunch. Tell me where.”

“I’m assigning the extraction elsewhere.”

“What?” The word held all the emotion she was stifling. She held her breath the moment it burst from her lips. And listened to the dead silence that followed her outburst.

“You’re too close. It’s obvious. And close makes mistakes.”

“He’s my mate, Akron. Mine.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. And I’m one of the best you have.”

“True.”

“You owe it to me.”

“Not true.”

“You sent the fiend that turned me. Aleckzandor Von Brun. Remember? I do.”

“You know about that, do you?”

“He wasn’t an easy kill. But he finally talked.”

There was a heavy sigh coming through the phone. Nothing on the screen moved.

“I gave you eternal life, and I owe you…how?”

“You gave me eternal death. Without asking. Now, quit wasting time and tell me where to find my mate. Now.”

“Dress light. He’s in the desert. Excellent place to hold a vampire. Lots of sun. Oh. The coordinates are already on your file. I sent them four minutes ago.”

“You made me beg?”

“I don’t need a rogue on the team, Sasha, my dear. Least of all, you. Now go. Cease the recriminations and free him. I look forward to meeting him. Perhaps have a chat. If you can keep him from arguing long enough.”

He was laughing as he cut off the communication. Sasha didn’t really hear it, she was searching her texts, and then she was sending the message to Vaughn.

Some bloody fool was crying. Sobbing, actually. Wrecking any deep sleep and making the hard mattress feel like concrete.

Stuart lifted his head. It was concrete. And he was the bloody fool. Some vampire he was turning out to be. He curled his body, pulling on all four chains that held him, to raise his head toward the grate above. He didn’t bother moving farther. There wasn’t enough headroom to even sit. The bastards.

“Hey! Anybody! I’m ready to talk now!”

“Shut up.”

The terse command got accompanied by a poke from a sharpened rod. If Stuart didn’t move so quickly, it might’ve proved an effective deterrent. As it was, the rod glanced off concrete, lifting a chunk. The guy was serious, even if he was a bad shot.

“Shut up? What kind of captor wants a prisoner to shut up after torturing him for five days? I’m ready to talk I tell you!”

“A week, Piss-ant! And you are not being tortured.”

“I’ve no company, no radio, no bathroom, not even a magazine to read! And you deny me food and water, too? You call this non-torture? I’m weak from thirst! What kind of captors are you?”

“Stop yelling. This is not weak.”

The rod came slamming down, missing again. The guard cursed him roundly in whatever language they were speaking, and pulled the spear back up. He’d have to practice his aim and his speed if he wanted to hit Doctor Stuart Emerson Findlay, the Third. Especially now that he had super powers and wasn’t at all thirsty for water or hungry for food. Nor did he need a restroom. If these were vampire powers, he was well pleased with them. About everything else…pissed off. And most of all, he was afraid of why he missed his vampire assassin mate chick so much. He didn’t dare love her because if that happened, he’d be vulnerable again. That’s what caused this hard shell about him in the first place. Love was a four-letter-word leading to weakness and pain: extreme, agonizing, forever pain.

Please don’t let me love her.

Stuart watched the guard from another dark corner. He’d given them all names. It was Oblivious, the stupid guard. He was slow. Not like the night pair. They were two of a kind and mean. Smart. Somehow, they knew the worst thing you could possibly do to a new vampire was read aloud all night with a skill level that would fail a grammar school exam. They were named Lean and Mean. They were both world class wrestler types, and they both dangled crucifixes all about the area above him.