5 - Together To Join (8 page)

No. No. And no.

Garrick had waited a full thirty minutes after she’d disappeared before acting. It was almost too easy. He’d found the wardrobe rooms and donned another outfit - he’d be a moving target in English hunting attire - and then he’d gathered a few essentials: The steak knife got added to his razor for obvious reasons; he cut away a section of her copper tubing for signaling or electrical potential. It also worked well as a make-shift cross; a set of long shoelaces and one of her special-made pairs of pantyhose would go a long way for strangling purposes…and then he returned to the main room and pressed one of the buttons. The moment he did that, he’d gotten linked with a fellow named Alphonse. Alphonse. She had a male in her home named Alphonse. Garrick hoped he was security. With a name like that, it was going to be a pleasure to disarm him.

Garrick had already planned his escape. He cemented it as he laced his boots. The only possible route was down. There had to be a staircase, and if he got someone to report to the room, he’d force them to show him the way out. Garrick might not even kill the person if they cooperated. Depended mostly on affiliations. Vampires were dying. Humans? That would depend on whether they stood in Garrick’s way or not.

None of his plan was needed. The moment he asked Alphonse for a trip to the airstrip, he scented freedom. Once they exited the elevator, he felt it. The ride to the airstrip took exactly twelve minutes at a non-constant speed that averaged 30 mph. It was within five miles. Even with the windows blackened in the vehicle, he could tell. Once there he got more surprise. She didn’t just have a private jet. She had a hangar full of options. Garrick chose a Gulfstream 510, ordered the driver to drop him at the door, and informed the attendants he’d be piloting it himself. Solo. And they’d acceded without one bit of argument.

Garrick didn’t believe women still came who were as gullible as this Angelique. He shouldn’t feel so damn guilty. She had to know all’s fair in love and war. And this sure as hell couldn’t be love.

CHAPTER NINE

Something didn’t feel quite right.

It wasn’t the set-up. Len had certainly done his job, and she looked the part. Their target tonight was Pedro Ramon el Rodriguez. The name meant little to her. She was just grateful it wasn’t a political hit. Those carried too much weight. Countries could be lost and history altered with the removal of politicians, and nobody seemed to win. Maybe it was true. Treason was just a matter of timing.

This man was a drug cartel boss from somewhere in South America. He was just another man in a long string of them the Vampire Assassin League contracted to take out. Len had already joked how it was a constant source of money, since every time they took out one of these guys, another one took his place. They never seemed to learn. It seemed the position came with a whetted sense of vengeance that led to another contract, more money, and another blood feast. It was like the ‘Golden Goose’ that never stopped paying.

This Pedro fellow was a very nice-looking man…for a drug lord. Angelique had been shown his pictures, taken at all kinds of angles with very long range lenses. Even distorted, the man was extremely handsome. Young. Late twenties or early thirties. Chiseled features. Dark-hair. Sexy eyes. Muscled. He wore very little around his pool, sometimes nothing. She flipped through half a dozen photos taken swimming. Stupid man. If a lens could get these photos, a long-range sniper could’ve, too. She’d passed over them with barely a glance. She didn’t want to study him. She didn’t even want to look at him.

His luck had run out. Pedro was in Vegas looking for a good time. He’d rented an exclusive, very expensive club for his own pleasure and that of his friends. He’d brought his own entertainment: A singer that hadn’t been half-bad, and a band that played floor-thumping music. He hadn’t even contacted anyone for some high paid escorts. He’d brought his own gaggle of giggling gorgeous girls – as Len called them. Smart. The man hadn’t left anything to chance.

He hadn’t counted on Len, though.

Angelique smoothed a bit of her riotous curls back into place. A three hour session at the salon had netted her a cloud of white-blond curls that seemed to echo wings. They left her face unadorned, adding only the slightest touch of mascara to her lashes and a bit of clear gloss to her lips. She’d been fitted into a silver metallic band-aid dress that ended just above the knees. It was so tight they’d had to put a film of baby powder on her to slide it on. Platform glitter heels with clear straps lifted her off the floor, while the tiara atop her head would’ve been worth millions if it had been real. She had a sash proclaiming her “Miss University”, but they pinned it in place to hide the last three letters. She was to act like a newly crowned beauty queen. She looked more like a really sexy angel. The beautician staff had been in raves over her.

She was meant to stop traffic, or in this case, a party. It showed. But it all felt so wrong. She’d done this hundreds of times, yet now it felt uncomfortable. Sinful. Maybe a bit evil. Someone should have warned her how different it would feel when she was in love. Being with Garrick meant life and love and wonder to her. Using her face and form to attract another male was the exact opposite.

She belonged to Garrick now. She didn’t want anyone ogling her, starting with the slack-jawed look she got from Len when she stepped from the limo. His whistle had been cut off by a quick hand to the back of his neck. She had Akron to thank. He’d sent her not just Athlerod, but Ethelstone as well. The Icelandic duo pretended to be her bodyguard. The identical twins looked like pro wrestlers in their matching form-fitted tuxedoes, their hair pulled back into queues, and lumps beneath their coats showing weaponry. They didn’t need it. It was for show. They fully expected to be picked over and disarmed, and had to wear the equipment to back up the act.

So now they all stood, waiting behind the smoked glass wall at the foyer. Len had greased enough palms to get them in. He’d even paid for a bit of crashing cymbals when she appeared. Angelique took a deep breath. Now, it was her turn.

“You ready?”

It was Len. She frowned up at him.

“What?”

“Of course she is ready. As are we.”

Len took a look at the men flanking her, and then ran his eyes down her body again. The man on her right growled and Len backed up, both hands in the air.

“All right. All right. Let’s go, then. Showtime.”

He looked like the weasel he was portraying, especially with his hair holding a ton of grease and slicked back behind his ears. That was another lie. The man was deadly accurate with any weapon, and eternally loyal. But human.

They stepped in, the music stopped, and a cymbal crashed to the floor. All conversation ceased, although the disco ball kept rotating atop the dance floor, and a glass dropped somewhere. Someone put a solitary spotlight on her, too.

“
Madre de Dios!”

The exclamation came from one of the dancers, who turned into Pedro Ramon el Rodriguez as he twirled his partner out of his arms and turned to Angelique. From all around him, male bodies swarmed, encircling her, Len, and the twins. She didn’t move her eyes from the target. Swishing sounds of clothing and grunts meant the men were getting disarmed, and then Len was in front of her, blocking Pedro.

“Uno momento, Senor?”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

The man was more incredibly handsome than his photos, especially up close. He should be a male model, not a murderous leader of thugs. Len cleared his throat.

“I’m the lady’s uh…promotion manager.”

“What is her name? I must be introduced!”

“Not so fast. There’s the matter of…”

Len’s voice went to a whisper while he must be asking for some enormous sum. Angel kept her eyes steadfastly on Pedro. It made her skin ripple with unpleasant shivers. He may be a beautiful man, but it was only on the surface.

“Whatever you say! You have brought me an angel from heaven! Manuel, order more champagne! Allow the lady’s men some room! And you! Lucida! Move. I must speak with this gift.”

“Gift?”

Angelique whispered it with a breathless tone. It wasn’t an act. The man was taller than she expected, even with her six-inch platforms on, and he exuded some sort of mesmerizing force. It was self-confidence combined with assurance, dosed with sex appeal. The seat this Lucida moved from was on a couch. Right next to him. The unpleasant sensation deepened as he poured her a flute of champagne she ignored.

“Come. You must make a toast with me. It is not every day heaven opens up and sends one of its own down here. Come. A toast. To your beauty.”

Angelique lifted her eyes to his and widened them just slightly. “But I do not drink.”

He grinned, and then lifted her hand to his lips. The kiss was even worse contact. That’s exactly when she decided not to take any of his blood. The others could have him.

“Where on earth could you have been hiding? Or perhaps it’s not the earth. Even the real Miss Universe could not be as you are.”

“Uh…it’s really Miss University.”

“I know. I financed the real one. But come. Enough of that. You have come to me for a reason, and I am all ears. We all are.”

“I’d rather be alone.” The words were barely uttered. They felt like sacrilege against her lips.

“Good thing I was warned. Not sufficiently, but I’ll deal with that in time.”

Something about his smile changed. The strangest odor of burning filtered through the air system as well. From his open-collared shirt he pulled an enormous crucifix. Angelique barely had time to cry a warning before he slammed it against her forehead. It was Len saving her, pegging their target with a chest shot before disappearing. Pedro fell onto the floor. The cross didn’t. As if it got burned into position on her skin. Her last conscious thought was at least Akron wouldn’t have to refund anything.

o0o

The code didn’t work.

Garrick punched it in twice before moving rapidly to the corner of the house, sticking to the shadows, every bit of him alert. Nothing. Everything about the house looked derelict, exactly as intended. He’d helped set it up that way. There was one generator, and he’d secured it in the center of the basement. It sent power to the heart of the place, all of it hidden behind the fireplace. No smell. No lights. No sound. Nobody knew about the weak latch on the second floor window, except him. Or if they had found and fixed it, the knife he’d filched would make quick work of it. Once inside, he slid along the interior walls, always keeping his back to a surface until he reached the false wall, and discovered more emptiness.

The small fridge was gone. Desk and chairs. Cots. Closets full of clothing. Everything. Even the underground storage vault he’d designed and dug was empty. It had been recent, though. Two nubs from electrical cords stunted the wall leading to the generator shaft, and if he squatted and checked, there were marks on the floor. No dust. They’d deserted the place and closed it down in a hurry. It now felt sad. And lonely.

Garrick shook the fleeting emotions aside. Lonely was his life story. He left the same way he got in. No trace. Silent and deadly. Exactly as he’d been taught. The only thing that could prompt such a clean-up was a betrayal. In the highest of ranks. He wondered who it was and then shelved that thought, as well. He was getting hungry, it was a long hike to the next haven, and it wasn’t getting any nearer.

He hitched a ride to the next site from a commuter who took one look at him and must’ve felt sorry. She even offered him an energy bar. Sweet woman. He thought of asking for her number to send payment, but cancelled the impulse. She might put another inference on it, and he was having enough woman trouble lately.

He had to cease thinking of Miss Angelique. Every time he put down his guard, it felt like she was with him, speaking her sweet words, and pressing those incredible lips to him.
Hell
. He had to exorcise her somehow. Her, and this empty feeling that seemed to accompany the thoughts. He didn’t believe in love. Or soul-mates.

His personal code didn’t work at the new spot, either. He tried the over-ride numbers. The place didn’t look or seem deserted, but that didn’t signify much. He could hear and feel the electricity still humming through this safe house. This unit was in downtown Calgary, attached to an office building that thrived on power consumption. They didn’t even notice when Garrick had wired into their lines, causing a spike that never fell.

He had to scale the drainpipe to the fire escape and climb toward the roof, checking windows for gaps. He found one on the fifth floor, women’s lavatory. Got to love women sometimes. They probably thought it was safe to crack the window open way up here. Women. Curse to humanity. No matter how angelic they looked. Or how wondrous it felt just being near them…
Stop that, Garrick
. He was not thinking of her. He couldn’t be. There wasn’t such a thing as love. Or soul-mates.

Shimmying through the small window wasn’t easy, but from there it was nothing to sprint to the elevator shaft, jam the door, and get across to their access ledge. What was hard was getting through the alarm system. Good thing he’d taken copper tubing. Hunters could divert up to 100,000 volts through this perimeter wiring system. Garrick straightened the copper, formed a loop at one end and then dropped it onto the wire. It grounded the charge into the floor and sent enough sparks to divert attention from his race to the alarm box. He was just working the lock when the first bullet grazed his ear.

Garrick dropped, rolled, and had the assailant pegged mid-forehead with the knife, while the gun rocked with round after round until it ran out, all of the bullets soundlessly hitting the ceiling. Garrick didn’t watch. He honed in on the fellow’s partner, using the vampire senses to find him. They might have access to electricity in here, but they weren’t using it, relying instead on surprise and stealth. Stupid move. Every human gave off scent, especially if they were on an adrenaline rush from watching a partner just die.