Nightfall (32 page)

“Good tips tonight.” Maria grinned, taking the fold of bills
Selene handed her from the tip jar and tucking them into the pocket of her
jeans.

“No shit,” Carol added, her smile as broad.

“I’ll calculate what was added to the credit card receipts,”
Selene told them, “and have the cash for you this weekend.”

“Great,” they chorused, then high-fived each other. Selene
shook her head at them, but couldn’t help smiling at their youthful exuberance.
But when she turned to clear the register, Carol drew her attention back to
them.

“Um, Selene?”

“Yes?”

“We, uh, just want to thank you.” Her lips curved in a shy
smile. “For, you know, making this place so great.”

The direct compliment warmed her as few other things could.
I
was meant to be here. I am going to survive Laurent, damn it.

“It’s my pleasure,” she told them. “Now get going. Artie’s
legacy is over.”

“Thank God for that. Will you need us both tomorrow night?”
Maria asked. “You think it will be this busy again?”

“It’s not my night to work,” Carol added, “but I have no
plans, so call if you need me.”

“Thanks for being on standby. Let’s see what happens
tomorrow. Go home and rest.”

As she waved them off, she zipped the receipts into a cash
bag. Locking the door after the two girls, Manuel already having left, she
carried the bag into the office to stash in the little safe. Out of habit, her
enhanced senses registered their cars starting, the parking lot emptying.

Five minutes later, she felt him.

Laurent had taken her blood, part of an overlord’s right and
a way of monitoring her specific whereabouts within a certain geographical
range. While she didn’t have the same ability, never having tasted his blood, a
vampire always sensed the proximity of another vampire. There was only one who
could be coming to these doors.

Forcing herself to finish putting the money away, she took a
deep breath.
Whatever happens, I just have to get through it. That’s all.

She strode back into the main saloon, to the entry doors. He
wouldn’t knock. He knew she knew he was there. Did he expect her to cower, to
try to run? She wouldn’t do that. She’d made her choice. It was all public now,
in process with the Region Masters.

She made damn sure her hands didn’t shake as she unlocked
the door, though things quaked deep inside. As she pushed open the double
panels, no one appeared to be there, but she left them wide open and went back
to the bar. While she waited for him to make his predictably dramatic entrance,
she mixed his favorite drink, set it on the bar. Then she came back around and
stood before it. She wouldn’t hide from him.

He came out of the darkness just like in a horror movie. Not
there, then suddenly there. He could have been across the parking lot and moved
that fast. He didn’t have to pretend to be a nightmare though. He was her worst
nightmare, about to come true.

She stood erect, hands at her sides curled into fists to
steady herself. Her heart beat erratically and her stomach was a bundle of
knots, but she projected a calm she didn’t feel.

Laurent looked exactly as she remembered him—tall and lean.
Not Dix’s leanness, sunbaked hardness from ranch work. More like a slender,
refined knife blade. Appearance didn’t matter, however, when it came to vampire
strength. Even the weakest vampire could practically tear a building off its
foundations, and Laurent was nowhere near the weakest.

His razor-cut black hair just touched the collar of his silk
turtleneck, every strand perfectly in place. The jacket of his custom-tailored
suit was open, the gray fabric moving with his body. The diamond in the pinky
ring he always wore winked in the low light of the bar. If not for the rage so
visible on his face and blazing from his black, black eyes, he could have posed
for an ad campaign for a successful New Yorker.

One step behind him was Claudio, his servant. Laurent never
moved without the exceptionally beautiful male, who had tawny-brown eyes,
sensuous lips and black hair that fell in waves from his brow and to his
collar. His physique—toned body, tight ass—complemented Laurent’s similar
vampire perfection. But what made her blood run cold were the two vampires with
him, Ernesto and Mike. Both dressed in black, they looked like the personal security
force they were. Both men bore a crescent scar on one cheek, marked by
Laurent’s blood so that when he’d carved it there it would be permanent.
Usually, that only worked on servants, but Laurent had done it over and over
until it became permanent.

Whatever either male had done to him, it had earned them the
sentence of always being under his thumb, following his every order. Perhaps at
one time they’d been decent souls, but he’d chosen well. They’d embraced the
sociopathic personality of their Master and executed his most brutal wishes
without hesitation or emotion.

While ostensibly Laurent used them for general security at
the bar with his human patrons, they did his enforcement work with vampires in
his territory. That way Laurent could choose a la carte which torments he
handled personally and which ones he could watch.

Ernesto turned the deadbolt in the door and took up a stance
in front of it, as if they thought she might try to bolt through it. She
wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Ernesto had the look of a sleek Hispanic
undertaker, his eyes deep set in his smooth brown face, mouth a thin line.
Mike, his thick tail of auburn hair a straight line down his broad back, walked
to the rear of the bar, disappearing down that hallway to verify that door was
locked as well.

Her attention snapped from that to Laurent, who’d stepped
forward, bringing him within a foot from her. The hatred in his expression
drilled holes in her body.

“Hello, Laurent.” She was surprised there wasn’t a hint of a
tremor in her voice, because inside the shaking was getting worse. Far worse.

“So proud. You’d have done better to let your fear show,
Selene. Shown some humility.”

His arm moved so swiftly it was a blur, his hand cracking
across her face with the force of a wooden board. It spun her around, making
her hit the bar, but fortunately she’d left his drink out of range. It shook
but didn’t spill a drop. Why that made her want to bark out a hysterical laugh,
she didn’t know.

She pressed her lips together, sealing in any cry of pain.
Straightened to face him again.

“You betrayed me, bitch.”

Crack!
He struck her other cheek. He probably thought
of this one as more of a love tap since he snapped her head back, rocked her on
her heels, but she was still on her feet. The pain sang through her nerve
endings, preparing her for more to come.

“What? No argument here?” His lip curled with disdain. “No
excuses? No pitiful explanations?”

She didn’t have the energy to spare for them. Excesses of
pain or fear could shatter the mindshields of a younger vampire. Quinn wasn’t
far enough away. If he felt her fear or pain, he could be back on his plane and
at her door within an hour or two, and she had no idea if Laurent was going to
make this an all-night torture session. Quinn couldn’t be allowed to feel her
distress. She didn’t want him anywhere near this.

Running her tongue over her split bottom lip, she tasted her
own blood. She knew it wouldn’t matter what she said to Laurent anyway. He’d
come here with an agenda and nothing she did or said would make a difference.

“I took care of you. I saw to your welfare. I made sure you
had a roof over your head and proper training.”

“No.” The word was out of her mouth before she could stop
it. She felt the sparks snap from her eyes. “You used me, Laurent. I was a hard
worker, running that bar for you. You left me with nothing for myself.”

God, she was so stupid. This time he used his fist, making
contact with her nose. The impact drove her to the floor, her head smacking
against the base of the bar. The crunch of cartilage came with a lightning bolt
of agonizing pain, more blood. Dizziness washed over her and she swallowed
against the nausea surging to her throat.

“Get up.” His voice was like the crack of a whip. “Now.”

Breathing unevenly, she rose to her feet, clumsy and
awkward. She was barely upright before his fist connected with the side of her
head, more forceful than the previous blows. Her head hit the rim of the bar
this time, the force of it driving her into an awkward heap on the floor again.
The blood ran freely from her nose. Forcing her gaze upward, she saw Laurent
staring down at her, his hatred and thirst for vengeance blazing even more
brightly.

He kicked her, sending a lightning bolt of pain through her
kneecap. “You ran away. Ungrateful bitch. After I gave you everything.”

She bit back a cry, but not a retort. “You made…me…a slave.”

Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut, take her
punishment and crawl away to heal? Why did she have to goad him this way? Butch
had warned her to take her punishment and move on, hadn’t he?

“Death is often the punishment for runaways.” He prodded the
damaged kneecap again. “It’s an unforgiveable disloyalty. And for what?” He
looked around the bar with disdain. “A hole-in-the-wall hangout for the great
unwashed? In a lowlife place like Texas? I gave you the sophistication of New
York and you threw it back at me.”

Death. His words stabbed her with fear, but not for herself.
Oh God. If Laurent killed her, Quinn would drop wherever he was, his heart
stopping, his life force connected to hers. She’d done that to him.

With every ounce of will she had, she forced herself to stay
silent. To do or say anything could seal Quinn’s fate.
Keep silent
, she
told herself.
He’s bluffing. He enjoys torture too much. Death takes all the
fun away from him.
He hadn’t killed the one he’d tortured in front of her,
all that time ago, though she remembered the vampire had begged for death
before it was all over. She’d say she’d die before she gave Laurent the
satisfaction, but…

“So brave. Not a word out of her.” He cast a look at his
three minions before shooting his gaze back down at her. “Maybe you want the
mercy of death. But you know me far better than that. Death would not be nearly
painful enough for you, nor would it give me enough satisfaction. Plus the
Region Masters tend to whine if we take choices away from them.”

He snapped his fingers at Claudio. The servant, his
expression impassive, reached beneath his coat and drew a knife from a
scabbard. The long blade reflected the faint light from the ceiling fixtures.
Though that should have captured her full attention, Selene found her eyes
drawn to Claudio’s face instead. Did he and Laurent share the bond she and
Quinn did, that emotional closeness? She didn’t see how it was possible.
Laurent was far too much of a sociopath. She’d have pitied Claudio, except like
most servants, his choice to become a vampire’s servant was a willing one.
Sometimes she’d found his near constant silence even more chilling than
Laurent’s self-serving monologues.

Laurent drew the flat of the blade across his open palm in a
lover’s caress, once, twice, three times. From her ungainly position on the
floor Selene stared up at him, her heart thumping. Was he planning to carve his
initials on her back as he’d done to that other unfortunate vampire? Mark it
over and over with his own blood, like he had the scars on Ernesto’s and Mike’s
faces? She’d skin herself before she’d let herself be marked with his name
forever.

“Lift that piece of rubbish up,” he snapped.

Mike and Ernesto hauled her upright. She tried to plant her
feet but her wrecked knee hurt so badly she couldn’t put any weight on it. She
simply hung there, suspended between the two thugs.

“Strip her,” Laurent ordered.

Rough hands tore her dress from her body, tossing the
remnants aside before ripping away her flimsy lingerie. Pretty things she’d
worn even though Quinn wasn’t going to be here tonight. She’d anticipated
talking to him before dawn, taunting him with what she was wearing, perhaps
bringing herself to climax for him while denying him the right to touch himself
on the other side of the phone until she commanded it.

The air scraped over her as she was stripped, making her
flesh go cold. Why being raped by Laurent horrified her more deeply than anything
else, she didn’t know. Maybe because all she could think of was Quinn inside
her body, his hands moving with such care over her, even at the point of his
most violent need.

“Don’t worry, my dear.” Laurent’s eyes glittered. “I’m not
going to fuck you. I wouldn’t dirty my cock in the pussy of a turncoat. Someone
who betrayed me for all the world to see.” He stroked the flat of the blade
across her cheek. “What a mess you are, blood and snot all over your face. So
disgusting. I can’t imagine who would touch you anyway.”

So he still didn’t know she’d taken a full servant. Thank
God. Thank God. If they could just get this done before he found out. Even if
she had to go back with Laurent, Butch would protect Quinn. He’d promised.

Laurent traced the column of her neck with the knife tip,
pausing at the hollow of her throat to prick the skin.

“Do you have any idea what a mess you left me? I had to come
up with a plausible explanation for your absence, then find someone suitable to
train as your replacement. I had a problematic few weeks.”

I’m surprised you could find anyone to work for the
pittance you gave me. Perhaps if you’d been more generous I’d have stayed.

Saying that aloud would only antagonize him more. She just
wanted to get this over with and crawl into her cave in the basement.

“Nothing to say, Selene?”

The knife dug into one cheek. With a flick of his wrist,
Laurent carved a slice to her chin. She smothered a gasp. Whatever she had to
do, she wouldn’t scream or beg for mercy, and not just for pride’s sake. The
level of control it took to do that would keep the same outbursts from reaching
out and alerting Quinn.