Bled Dry (30 page)

“Oh, she didn’t tell me. Corbin did.”

“What the hell does Atelier know about it?”

Brittany leaned closer, straining her hands in the painful rope ties. She whispered, terrified someone would hear her. “You know that I’m an Impure, don’t you? That’s what makes my baby so special to all of you.”

Donatelli stared hard at her. “So you know what we want.”

“Yes, I do. But before you let Gregor take what he wants, let me tell you that this child, this three-quarter vampire, is your grandchild. You had sex with my mother, Gina Baldizzi, and
you
are the reason I have vampire blood. You’re my father.”

He sat up straight, his head shaking. “What? You are lying to me. That is... ”

“Impossible? Why? How many vampires were hanging around the Kitten in the same time period?” And how many clubs could have been named something as ridiculous as the Kitten?

“My mother may have been a good-time girl, but I don’t think she was doing half the Vampire Nation. You were probably the only vampire she ever slept with.” Keeping her voice steady, she drove her point home. “Besides, Corbin ran a DNA test on me, and you, Roberto Donatelli, were the match. You are my father.”

Her heart was pounding viciously as she waited for his reaction. He looked appropriately stunned and suspicious, but she could also see that he was considering believing her.

“Perhaps I remember your mother. Perhaps we had sex once or twice or twelve times. Perhaps I am your father. Why are you telling me?”

“Don’t play stupid with me. I’m telling you now because I’m tied to a chair and I know that your Russian friend wouldn’t hesitate to kill me or my baby. So I’m telling you if he does that, he will be killing your daughter. Your grandchild. Your future.”

He studied her, for so long that she started to lose hope. It was a risk, telling him the truth, but it was her only opportunity for escape unless Corbin or Ethan came for her. But finally he nodded. “You could be my daughter. You are smart enough. And I would be a fool to risk anything happening to you, at least until I can verify the DNA myself.”

Wow, that was heartwarming. But no more than she had expected, and she was pleased he could see the logic in protecting her.

“And I do remember your mother, actually, because I wasn’t normally fond of brunettes. But her legs were amazing and she was willing to try anything... a wonderful combination of attributes.” He stood up and moved toward her. “Though I imagine you’d rather not hear about that.”

“I could do without it, thanks.” But in a weird way, she was grateful he remembered her, that she wasn’t just a nameless number in a long string of women he had seduced.

Donatelli leaned over, stared at her face, searching. “You do look like her. Yet you seem stronger, more stable.” He started to untie her hand bonds. “How is your mother these days?”

“She died fifteen years ago. A drug overdose.” Brittany tried not to recoil as his chest brushed near her face, the rustle of his suit and crisp dress shirt ringing in her ears. He smelled like a deep rich cologne and her stomach turned again. He didn’t seem the least bit put out or distressed that he had a daughter he’d known nothing about.

“I am sorry to hear that. Who raised you then?” he asked, tone mildly curious, conversational.

“My sister, Alexis.”

“Ah, yes.” He got one hand free, and lightly massaged her wrist where the rope had burned her flesh. “Carrick’s wife. No wonder she is such a fierce defender. Forced into adulthood too soon. It is a shame your mother never mentioned you to me.”

Somehow Brittany couldn’t bring herself to regret that.

“I could have provided for you in some fashion or another. As far as I am aware, you are my only child. I find the concept fascinating. I would have liked a hand in influencing your upbringing.”

She just bet he would have. Boarding school for political power mongers’ offspring maybe. She could have chummed around with daughters of dictators.

Undoing the other bond, he pulled back, and Brittany stared up at him. “I don’t care about the past. All I care about is the future of my child.” She didn’t want to beg, so she locked her chin up, narrowed her eyes. “Protect me and your grandchild.”

“Oh, I will.” His voice was still casual, unconcerned, but she heard the determination in his voice, saw the conviction in his dark black eyes. “I have no intention of letting Gregor harm you.”

Relief made her sag her shoulders a little, suck in a deep breath.

“Now stand up. I’m going to get you out of the building before the lunatic gets back.”

Brittany stood, her knees and hips groaning with stiffness. Donatelli startled her by quickly retying her wrists in front of her. “In case we happen upon our friend.” He stripped off his jacket and draped it over her bonded hands. “And in case we happen upon any mortals.”

The fabric felt warm on her skin, and she realized she was cold, and exhausted. She wanted to do what she had always done, shrug her shoulders and assume everything would be alright, that Alexis or someone else would take care of it for her. But for the first time in her life, she realized that, ultimately, she was the one who had to take care of herself, and that for her child, she was the “it” person. The one who had to fix everything. She couldn’t trust Donatelli. He was a means to an end, nothing more.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“I want you to promise me you’ll tell Corbin where I am.”

He sighed. “Fine. Now do you want to stay here or not?”

“No.” She followed him out the door. The danger ahead seemed much less threatening than staying and hanging with the slap-happy Russian.

“He’s moving her,” Gwenna said suddenly from the backseat of the car. “He’s debating where to take her.”

Corbin was already regretting that he had decided to drive. The traffic was typical for Vegas at night. He was crawling at about twenty miles an hour and he had only a miserable two miles to travel.

“I’m getting out,” he said. He could have been there already if he’d run. Throwing the car into park, he started to open his door.

“I’m coming with you,” Carrick said. “But you should leave the sword. Just take a knife instead.” He flashed Corbin a wicked-looking hunting knife with a jagged blade.

“You carry the knife. I will take the sword. Nothing wrong with extra protection.” Besides, it was December and he had thrown on a winter coat. There was no difficulty in concealing the sword. And he preferred its steel smoothness, its light, skillful drama. It was a classic weapon, whereas that knife was brutal, rough, inelegant.

“How about no one takes any weapons?” Gwenna asked as she jumped out of the backseat right after Alexis did. “Can’t we just discuss this rationally with Roberto? Let me talk to him.”

“No! You’re not to say one word to him,” Ethan said, pointing his finger at her.

Corbin did not have time to argue with either of them. He abandoned his car, earning lots of honks and finger gestures from other drivers, and took off running down the Strip, dodging groups of giggling women in their twenties, drunken couples leaning on each other and exchanging sloppy kisses, and men attempting to hand him flyers to bawdy shows.

He had done everything wrong. Everything. He had kept himself too isolated, he had forgotten to pay attention to the movements of those in power, had allowed himself to be self-absorbed and ignorant of the climate of the Nation. Now it was Brittany who was paying for his distraction. Brittany and his child.

Brittany?
he called, feeling a sense of desperation. The Bellagio was a massive building with thousands of rooms and he had no idea how to find her.

There was no response, but suddenly Ethan was running alongside him. “I can hear her, Atelier. She sounds scared, but calm, and she answered me. He’s taking her onto the roof.”

“Why is she answering you but not me?” Corbin was stupidly devastated. It was an emotion totally inappropriate for the situation, and while he was grateful they knew where Brittany was headed, he wanted to be the one she called for, needed. Not her brother-in-law.

They jogged past the Bellagio’s fountain, going off in its elaborate water display to the strains of Sinatra. “I don’t know. Who cares?”

He shouldn’t care, but he did. “You are right. That is good. We can find her easily on the roof.”

Glancing behind him, he saw Alexis was right behind them, not even breaking a sweat, but Gwenna was nowhere to be found. “Where is your sister?”

Ethan swore. “Christ, I don’t know. Let’s hope she just couldn’t keep up.”

They were on the elevator in five minutes.

“Get off on the floor beneath the penthouse suites,” Ethan told him. “We’ll walk up the stairs from there.”

When they reached the last turn of stairs before the rooftop, an
EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY
sign glaring at them, Corbin sensed vampire, knew Brittany and Donatelli had to be right ahead of him. Cautiously, he cracked the door open and saw Brittany with her hands tied in front of her, shorter hair sticking straight out in the wind, her stretchy top clinging to her swollen belly.

Closing his eyes for two seconds, he fought the fury, the guilt, the agony of wanting this to end positively. Then he shoved open the door and said coldly, “Move away from my woman, Donatelli.”

Brittany turned and her face reflected relief.
“Corbin.”

Donatelli showed no surprise, his stance leisurely, unconcerned. “For once we are on the same side, Atelier. But there is no time to discuss this. We need to get her out of here.”

Brittany was shivering, her teeth chattering, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and comfort her. He settled for extracting the sword, removing his overcoat, and draping it over her shoulders. “Everything is fine,
ma chérie
,” he whispered to her, easing her back away from Donatelli, who made no move to stop him.

Her big, black eyes stared at him over her shoulder.
I love you
, she said, her lips moving silently, as if she wanted to tell him quickly, privately, in case she never had another chance.

That nearly undid him. But he looked away from her, not wanting to let Donatelli out of his view. The Italian looked bemused.

“Now I understand,” he said. “There is no debt, is there, Brittany? You are not a surrogate. You and the Frenchman are lovers. Very, very clever of you.” He smiled at her. “I am impressed. I did notice his scent on you, but I thought it was because you are carrying his child.”

Corbin really wasn’t sure what in hell Donatelli was talking about and he didn’t really care. He just wanted Brittany home, safe, with him. “Whatever you are planning, Donatelli, it ends here. She is leaving with me, and you will have no further contact with her.”

“Actually, she’s leaving with me,” Chechikov said from the doorway, Gwenna held tightly against him, her head squeezed under his armpit.

Donatelli lost his cool insouciance. “Gwenna! Damn it, Gregor, let her go.”

“You betrayed me,” Gregor returned. “You were taking the girl off for yourself. That makes me very angry. Return her to me, and I’ll return this one to you.”

Donatelli’s fists clenched, and there was suddenly sweat on his forehead. He glanced at Gwenna. Corbin held his breath, holding his sword loosely, ready to strike if Donatelli turned over Brittany. But Donatelli just shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Then I’ll kill Gwenna.” Gregor held his own sword in his free hand and he raised it menacingly.