Cunningham, Pat - Legacy [Sequel to Belonging] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (32 page)

“What for? Oh. Right.” He set the Mason jar on an end table. “Neither one of you is going to work until further notice. We can’t risk it. They’ve got humans and whatnot working for them now. From here on out we stick together. Nobody goes anywhere alone.”

“Does that include hunts?” Jeremy asked.

That made Wallace pause. “Guess it’ll have to,” he said at last. “Can you do it, Scarecrow? Can you kill a vampire?”

Jeremy hesitated barely a second. “They’re threatening you and Colleen. Yes. I can do it.”

“But you’d rather not. I get it. That’s okay. The way you work vamps, you’re scary enough.” He looked at Colleen. “How about you?”

She straightened in the chair. “Just hand me a stake.”

Wallace chuckled. “It ain’t that easy, sweetheart. Can’t fault your enthusiasm, though. Okay. In about an hour it’ll be sunrise. That’s it for me until dark. You two call in sick. Stay together at all times. Somehow I don’t think that’ll be a problem. How are you on groceries? We may have to hole up for a while.”

“We’re good for a couple of days,” Jeremy said. “You?”

“I’ll manage. Hell, if they attack here, it’ll be like home delivery.” He crossed to the chair at human speed and brushed the tears from Colleen’s cheek. “We’re in the home stretch, sweetheart. Try to get some rest. Both of you. It’ll be mostly night work from here on in.”

She leaped up abruptly and dragged him into her arms. “Stay with us today,” she begged. “In our bed.” She glanced to Jeremy for support. He nodded vigorously.

“Sure, okay, but it’s not gonna help. Dead guy, remember?”

“I don’t care. We don’t care. Nobody goes anywhere alone.”

That he wouldn’t argue with. They went outside in a group to fetch Wallace’s sleeping bag from the back of the van. In single file, they went upstairs. No one spoke. Words had become unnecessary.

Still wordless, the men maneuvered in the bed so that Colleen lay between them. They memorized each other’s bodies with fingers, palms, tongues, and lips, in touches even more intimate and somehow more desperate than sex. No one dared to say aloud what prompted their silent affirmations of love. Their enemies had found them. The war had begun. At any time, perhaps within the next twenty-four hours, one or all of them could be gone.

As usual, Jeremy took control. She caught Wallace’s look, aimed over her shoulder, and knew some kind of unspoken plan had passed between them. She heard Jeremy pull open the nightstand drawer and wondered what he was up to. Surely, he understood by now a condom made no difference?

Then Wallace slipped his hand between her legs and began to finger her pussy. She didn’t recognize it as a distraction until Jeremy’s lube-slicked finger eased between her butt cheeks and began a similar, more hesitant exploration of her hole. Colleen jumped a little, then made herself hold still. She sent a glance over her shoulder to give her assent. The men kissed and caressed her breasts, neck, and shoulders while their fingers worked her hole and clit, until she relaxed enough for what was coming next.

Jeremy entered her first, easing his length into her tight ass in a steady, painless thrust. Colleen clung to Wallace and moaned against his shoulder. When Jeremy had filled her, Wallace maneuvered his cock into her sopping cunt. Both began to move. Full near to bursting, Colleen clutched at them both and surrendered herself to the ride.

They were connected far more than physically now, bound by ties that only time and mortality could break—male and female, living and undead, the human, the vampire, and the woman who hovered between, all the pieces fitted together into a perfect whole.

Colleen wasn’t certain which of them came first. Blinded by her own orgasm, she thought they might have climaxed simultaneously. Sweaty and satiated, she lay between her men with an arm around each, and listened while two heartbeats returned to normal and a third returned to nothing. Wallace, sweaty as any human male, grinned at her and winked.

Jeremy nuzzled the side of her neck. “Welcome to the flock.”

* * * *

Too soon, dawn poked its light around the edges of the curtains. Wallace’s movements slowed. When his kisses started to morph into yawns, Jeremy called a halt. Wallace climbed into the sleeping bag. The second the fabric closed over his head, his body went limp, then rigid. Colleen gave the bag a tentative poke and got no response. It might as well have been filled with lead.

Jeremy got out his phone and called the counseling center then handed the cell to Colleen. The school hadn’t heard anything about Norelle. Colleen settled back into the bed. With her head on her living lover’s chest and her undead lover at her back, she finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * * *

No dreams, good or bad, marked Colleen’s slumber. She came awake reenergized, practically quivering, and fully aware. She glanced at the clock and saw she’d slept the day away. Wallace still lay like a lump in his sleeping-bag shroud, but Jeremy was gone. Her alarm flared and died when her indrawn breath brought her the odor of home fries drifting up from downstairs. Cooking always soothed him, and neither had eaten since the previous evening. Giving the sleeping bag an affectionate pat, she hopped off the bed, snagged a robe from the back of a chair, and headed downstairs.

The opening strains of “Walk This Way” reached her before she reached the bottom of the stairs. Jeremy was already on the phone by the time she entered the kitchen. He split his sunny smile between her and whomever he was talking to.

“Colleen’s right here. I’ll get Wallace. Hang on.” He pressed his cell into Colleen’s hand and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “It’s Annie. She’s got news. Be right back.” He dashed for the stairs.

Colleen stepped up to the stove, where ham, eggs, and home fries sizzled. She kept an eye on breakfast while she spoke. “Annie? Good morning. Good evening, I mean. It’s Colleen.”

“I figured. Your voice is too high to be Wally. How you doing?”

She grimaced at a ham slice and flipped it over. “Not so good. I guess Wallace told you everything.”

“’Fraid so. Hey, I’ll bet this will cheer you up. We found your friend Norelle.”

Colleen perked up. “Is she okay?”

“Better than we could have hoped for, all things considered. She’s in the hospital. Severe blood loss. Nothing worse than that. Gus already talked to her. She doesn’t remember a thing. Her boyfriend’s been with her day and night. Nobody’s tried to get at her.”

“I need to see her. Which hospital?”

Annie didn’t answer right away. When she did, her voice was both grim and sympathetic. “I’m sorry, hon, that’s not a good idea just now. We don’t know what booby traps the bats may have left in her head. You can call her, but don’t tell her where you are. No personal visits. I know that’s tough, but better safe than sorry.”

“Safe” was beginning to feel like a mythical concept. Colleen sagged against the stove and poked her spatula listlessly at the eggs. “Is there any good news anymore?”

“Well, they only fed on her. They didn’t kill her, or mark her or turn her. With vampires, you take what you get. Colleen, I’m really sorry. Gus is going to work with her. She’ll need it when her memory comes back. He’s the only doctor in the state who won’t think she’s completely loony. How about it, sweetie? Are you smiling yet?”

She was indeed. It hung heavy on her lips, but her heart had lightened. “Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you, Annie.”

“You hang in there, hon. You’ve got two hunky men to keep you safe. All I’ve got is the balding shrink. Some gals have all the luck.”

Colleen looked up at the sound of footfalls clattering down the stairs. A moment later, Jeremy came in with a stumbling, yawning Wallace in tow. “That you, Annie?” Wallace yelled at the phone. “Tell Gus I’m sorry for waking him up. Is he still pissed or what?”

Jeremy took the phone from Colleen. He placed in on the kitchen table and activated the speaker. “Go ahead,” he said to Annie. “We’re ready.”

“Lordy, I hope so. Especially you, Wally. Gus isn’t pissed at you. I am. Once he’s up, he’s up, and then he gets me up to keep him company. Are you cranky and have bloodshot eyes? Welcome to my world.”

“I always have bloodshot eyes. And yeah, I’m cranky as shit. Un-crank me.” Wallace grabbed the pan of home fries off the stove and dug in without offering any to Jeremy or Colleen. “What have you got?”

“Good news, I’m hoping.” Jeremy dished up ham and eggs. They ate while Annie spoke. “Stoker Unlimited sold off the commune site a while back. They had some smaller real estate holdings. Those were sold off, too. Looks like that lead’s a dud. The bank’s another story. The branch closed down and was auctioned off a year or so ago. The buyer was—drum roll, please—Mosquito Enterprises.”

“Mosquito? Are you kidding me?” Wallace sputtered through his home fries. “Jesus kick me in the balls. I’m ready to stake this bozo just on principle.”

“That Caddy was registered to them, too. You’re going to love me for this one. We’ve got names.”

“Finally.” Wallace belatedly held up the pan and gestured with his fork at the home fries. Jeremy and Colleen shook their heads. Wallace shrugged and aimed his fork at a slice of ham. “Was one of those names Lebec?”

“We have a winner, guys and gals. There was an Antoine Lebec on the paperwork for the Woods and the Waters. He’s listed again as CEO of Mosquito Enterprises. And that’s not all. We found his name connected to the Montana nest. No word on the one in Arizona, but I’ll bet if you dug deep enough, you’d find him.”

“It could be an alias,” Jeremy said.

“Doubt it,” Wallace growled. “If he’s stuck to the same name for a hundred years, it’s probably his real one. He’s our king bat, which means he’s arrogant enough not to give a shit if we know who he is. So who is he? Any way we can find out?”

“Way ahead of you. Antoine Lebec was born in Canada sometime in the 1760s. He’s reported to have died around 1800, so that’s probably when he was turned. He was a farmer in Ontario, as far as we can tell. Records show he imported at least one purebred bull from England. Sounds like our boy wanted to try his hand at selective breeding.”

“Was this before or after he turned?”

“Looks like before. Our Antoine Lebec died in 1800, so the story goes. Fifteen years later, another Antoine Lebec surfaced in Alberta. This Lebec had seven daughters.”

“Natural or man-made?”

“Either captives or turned, I’m guessing. There’s no mention of a Mrs. Lebec, and the living Lebec was childless. Their happy little family persisted until the 1830s, when the farm burned down. No mention of how the fire started, or if outsiders were involved. Next thing you know, there’s a blood bank in Montana. I think we’ve found our boy.”

“Any idea where he’s denning? He won’t go back to the bank.”

“No, that’s a dead end, too. There’s some rental properties on the books. We’re looking into those. But get this—last year Mosquito Enterprises purchased a golf course. Eighteen holes of private, semi-isolated land just outside of Palm Springs. It’s currently closed for renovations, according to the press releases. How does that float your boat?”

“Annie, don’t tell Gus this, but I could kiss you both. Theo, too. You guys should open a detective agency.”

“The real estate transactions are no big deal. Those are public record. The dirt on Lebec we got elsewhere.” Her tinny voice coming out of the phone sounded faintly accusing. “I had a visitor at the house today. A charming young man called the Preacher.”

Wallace tensed. Colleen and Jeremy put down their forks. “Did he threaten you?” Wallace demanded. “I’ll hang him with his own goddamn coat.”

“Of course he didn’t. He was very polite, very professional. We had coffee and cheesecake. I’m just glad Shayla was at school. That man should not be around children.” Colleen could almost see Annie’s shiver over the phone. “I didn’t tell him where you live. I did share about the golf course and their other holdings. He’s a fellow slayer, working the same case. He deserved to know.”