Blake's Pursuit (2 page)

“What worries me, Samson,” Detective Donnelly was saying through the speakerphone, “is that there are way more robberies and home invasions than usual. Something is up.”

Samson, Scanguards’ founder, a tall vampire with sleek black hair and a chiseled face and physique, rested his elbows on the table and leaned a little closer to the speakerphone. “What do you want me to do, Mike? You know as well as I that Scanguards only gets involved in city business when it concerns infractions committed by vampires. That’s our deal. And from what you’re telling us, most of these crimes are committed during daylight.”

The implication was clear: the crimes couldn’t have been committed by vampires, who needed the cover of darkness to operate safely.

Zane grunted in agreement. Blake tossed him a quick glance. As usual, the bald vampire looked like he was ready to rip somebody’s head off. Zane’s eyes flickered down to his watch and then he pushed his chair back, nodding to Samson. “Flight’s in a few hours. Gotta get ready.”

Samson nodded back, and then exchanged a look with his second-in-command, Gabriel.

Gabriel shrugged indifferently, but the scar that marred the left side of his face ticked, a sure sign that he was affected by the matter. The scar stretched from his ear to his chin, a gruesome reminder of the emotional and physical pain he’d endured as a human.

“Come on, guys, the city compensates you handsomely for your consulting services,” Donnelly added now. “Just this once. Just have one of your guys look into it.”

Gabriel sighed and met Samson’s eyes directly. “How about John? Maybe he can check it out, determine whether there’s anything odd about these robberies? Won’t take him longer than a day or two, I reckon.”

Quinn, who’d been silent until now, ran a hand through his blond hair. He looked no older than mid-twenties, though he was close to two hundred years older than Blake. “I can pull John off patrol duty for a couple of nights, but I’ll need a replacement for him.”

“Take Grayson,” Samson agreed. “I’m sure he’ll be chomping at the bit.”

Gabriel chuckled. “You’re gonna let him go out there on his own?”

“You know my son as well as I do. He’s been badgering me for months to give him his own patrol. Maybe this is a good opportunity to see if he’s ready.”

“He’s twenty-one, it’s about time he pulled his weight!” Quinn interjected, laughing.

Amaury shook his head. “Wait until the twins find out. They’ll want their own patrol, too. You’re opening a big can of worms here.” Amaury’s twins Benjamin and Damian were twenty, only one year younger than Grayson, and absolute hellions.

“Don’t you trust your boys to do a good job?” Gabriel asked.

“It’s not Benjamin or Damian I’m worried about. Nina isn’t ready to let them go.”

Blake had to smile. Amaury’s blood-bonded mate was a force to be reckoned with. Though she was human, Amaury was putty in her hands. “You’ve gotta put your foot down, Amaury.”

Quinn’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Too late for that. That comes from letting your mate wear the pants.”

Amaury grunted and shot Quinn a look. “Like you have any more control over your woman than I have over mine!”

Samson raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Hey, guys, let’s get back to business.”

Blake glanced at his boss. Yeah, Samson was in exactly the same boat as the rest of the blood-bonded vampires: they were all dependent on their women, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So we got a deal?” Donnelly asked through the speakerphone.

“Yeah, we got a deal. I’ll have John call and coordinate with you. You get forty-eight hours. Then I’m pulling him off.”

“Okay. Thanks.” There was a soft rustling of papers, then Donnelly continued, “Can we go over the vampire case files now? I’ve got a few updates.”

“Go ahead,” Samson agreed.

There was a faint knock at the door, followed by a creak as it opened a sliver. Finn, a young employee of Vüber, one of Scanguards’ subsidiaries, popped his head in. Several heads turned to him.

“Sorry,” Finn apologized quickly, “but it’s important. Blake, a word.”

Blake rose. “Excuse me for a sec.” He walked outside, and eased the door shut behind him. “What’s going on?”

Finn shifted from one foot to the other, appearing nervous. “Well, I’m not sure. But you told me if there’s ever a problem with Hannah Bergdorf, I should let you know personally.”

Blake’s heartbeat instantly went into overdrive. Hannah, one of the many human drivers who worked for Vüber, a company that transported vampires around the city during daytime, stood under his personal protection. “Hannah? What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, but she hasn’t accepted any fares lately. And she didn’t call in sick or anything.” Finn shrugged.

“How long has she not worked?”

“Maybe two or three days.”

Blake felt heat rise to his head. “And you didn’t tell me earlier?”

“I didn’t even notice at first. I mean, the Vüber drivers don’t have fixed hours. They accept the fares as they come in. I figured she was taking a few days off, since she worked over Christmas.”

“Did you call her?”

“She’s not picking up her phone. Goes straight to voicemail.”

“Has anybody checked her house?”

Finn shook his head. “Can’t spare anybody right now. It’s really busy. And maybe she just forgot to set her app to the
Away
mode. I don’t wanna intrude if she’s just taking time off.”

Blake nodded, worried and anxious. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to shoot the messenger. “I’ll take care of it. In the meantime, send the details of her last fare to my phone.”

“Will do.” Finn turned on his heel and rushed away, clearly relieved at being allowed to leave.

Blake didn’t waste time either. He marched to the elevator and pressed the call button. As he waited, he tried to calm himself. Maybe Hannah had just forgotten to tell Finn’s team that she wasn’t working for a few days. But as much as he wanted to believe in that scenario, he knew better.

Hannah was too generous and charitable for her own good. She’d probably helped somebody and gotten in trouble as a result. Just like she’d helped him on that wet March day four years ago. The day he would have died, had it not been for Hannah’s fearless action.

3

Lilo towel-dried her blond hair, before reaching for her hairbrush to comb the damp strands into submission. Normally she’d let it air-dry, but since she was planning to go to the nearest police station and didn’t want to freeze, she bent down to the cabinet below the sink and pulled Hannah’s hairdryer from it. She was about to plug it in and switch it on, when she heard a sound coming from the other room.

She froze mid-movement, her heart skipping a beat.

Had Hannah come home? She listened, instinctively, hoping against hope it was her friend. If it was Hannah, she would see the suitcase and know she had a visitor. Judging by the stickers on Lilo’s luggage—stickers Hannah had sent her from her numerous trips—she would also know immediately who it was.

Lilo waited another two seconds, but whoever was in the other room didn’t call out her name. It couldn’t be Hannah.

It was an intruder, probably a burglar. It had to be. She’d written enough mystery novels to know how this would go down: he’d steal everything valuable in sight, including her handbag and computer, which would leave her stranded. And she already had enough problems to deal with. Getting her valuables stolen wasn’t on the agenda tonight.

She stretched her hand toward the glass shelf above the sink, reaching for her phone, but stopped.

Crap
, she cursed silently.

Her cell phone was still in her handbag in the living room, out of reach—which meant she couldn’t call the police for help. She had no choice. She’d have to take the initiative and surprise the guy. Most burglars, she knew from her research, turned tail and ran the moment they realized they weren’t alone. She’d just have to make enough noise to wake the neighbors should the guy not flee instantly.

Gripping the hairdryer more tightly, she looked down at herself. It would help if she weren’t dressed in Hannah’s short pink bathrobe. Oh well. She’d have to confront the intruder dressed as she was. She’d left her clothes in the living room because there was no space for them in the tiny bathroom without risking getting them wet.

Just pretend you’re Morgan West.
The protagonist of her popular bounty hunter mystery series would definitely not be quaking in his boots the way she was right now. Then again, in her defense, she wasn’t wearing any boots. She was barefoot. Great, she was about to become the main character in a horror movie: a scantily dressed blonde, without shoes, running for her life. Could this situation get any more pathetic?

Stop it
, she admonished herself silently. If only her imagination wasn’t so active; she could come up with all kinds of possible scenarios for this moment, all of them turning out badly. Sometimes it was a curse to be a mystery writer: she knew too much about the dangerous and evil elements of society. Elements like the burglar she could now hear clearly rummaging through the living room. In a few minutes, he’d be gone and with him, her handbag and computer.

It’s now or never.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the doorknob with her left hand while gripping the hairdryer tightly in her right. At least she could hit the guy with it if he approached her.

Lilo eased the door open just enough so she could peer out into the short hallway. But she couldn’t see anybody from that angle. Cautiously, she opened the door wider and took one step forward. Beneath her bare foot, the old wooden floorboard creaked. The sound seemed to echo loudly, though that could just be the result of her nervous, overactive imagination.

Another step and she was in the hallway. The part of the living room she could see was empty. Her suitcase was still where she’d left it, though somebody had rifled through the contents, tossing them onto the floor next to it.

That proved it. It was definitely not Hannah who’d entered the apartment. Slowly and silently, she stalked into the living room, staying as close to the wall as she could, before peeking around the corner so she could see the entire room. It was empty. The small reading light she’d turned on earlier was still burning, but otherwise it was dark, probably giving the intruder the impression the apartment was empty.

Another sound reached her ears. The burglar had moved on to the kitchen. Was that how he’d gotten in? Through the kitchen window she’d opened to get rid of the foul smell?

As she approached the open doorway to the kitchen, she hesitated. If she surprised him in that small, confined space, he might panic and lunge at her. No, it wasn’t smart to corner him like that. What if he fought back?

Her eyes fell on her handbag, the contents of which had been emptied on the armchair. If she could get to her cell phone, she could then sneak out the front door and call the police without the burglar hearing her, and everything would work out fine.

She laid the hairdryer on the couch, then bent over the armchair, rifling through her possessions. She shifted involuntarily. Her foot landed on something soft. A squeaking noise ripped through the silence.

Shit!
She’d just stepped on one of Frankenfurter’s squeaky toys.

Frantically she tried to find her cell phone, but it wasn’t on the chair. The intruder must have taken it.

Damn it!

Heavy footsteps behind her made her whirl around. It was too late. A strange man charged into the living room, glaring at her as if
she
were the intruder. Light reflected from somewhere, making his eyes appear red, as if he were the devil incarnate.

Fuck!
This guy wasn’t the type to just turn tail and run.

Lilo lunged toward the front door, desperate to escape. She could always buy a new computer and get her credit card company to issue her a new card. Better run now and deal with the consequences later.

Her hand was on the doorknob when she was jerked back by two strong hands gripping her shoulders. The guy flipped her around and tossed her in the other direction. She landed with her back on the old couch, legs in the air.

She pulled herself up quickly, trying to get away, but he was already charging at her again.

“Help! Somebody help!” she screamed from the top of her lungs, but in the next instant all the air was pushed from her lungs as the intruder pressed her back into the cushions as easily as if she were a toddler and not a grown woman.

She knew instantly that despite the self-defense classes she’d taken in college, she had no chance against an assailant this strong.

Her next scream for help was smothered beneath his broad palm and only came out as a muffled cry. Nobody would hear her.

Shit!
What would Morgan West do now? How would he get out of this predicament? Kick his attacker in the nuts? Yeah, if she could lift her knee, which she couldn’t, because he’d disabled her with his weight. Besides, Morgan wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.

“Where is it?” he grunted.

She ignored his question, not understanding what he was talking about, and instead tried to burn his face into her memory. No matter what happened now, she would do everything she could to be able to identify him in a lineup later.

His eyes were still glaring red, though this was probably an illusion caused by her fear, since there was no way the light in the room could reflect off his irises at this angle. Deep lines ran across his forehead, and his mouth was set in a grim line. His dark hair was shaggy, his face clean-shaven. He had prominent high cheekbones, but no other marks that would make him easy to identify.

The sound of a door opening made her shift her gaze from her attacker’s face and peer past his shoulders.

Another man, one just as tall as her attacker, charged toward them.

Oh fuck! Could her luck get any worse? The burglar hadn’t come alone. He’d brought an accomplice. Now there were two of them.