How To Marry A Millionaire Vampire (3 page)

She blinked. Okay, he was weird. A little psycho, maybe. Unless… “Oh, I get it. Tommy put you up to this.”

“I don’t know a Tommy.”

“Then who—” Shanna was interrupted by the sound of cars screeching to a halt outside the clinic. Was it the police? Please, God, let it be the police. She edged toward the office door and peeked out. No siren, no flashing lights. Heavy footsteps pounded on the sidewalk.

Her skin crept with cold sweat. She hugged her purse to her chest. “They’re here.”

The psycho customer wrapped his wolf tooth in the white handkerchief and stuffed it into a pocket. “Who are they?”

“People who want to kill me.” She ran through the examining room to the back door.

“Are you that bad of a dentist?”

“No.” She flipped the deadbolt locks with trembling fingers.

“Did you do something wrong?”

“No, I saw something I shouldn’t have. And so will you, if you don’t get out of here.” She grabbed his arm to push him out the back door. A trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth. He quickly wiped it with his hand, but it left a red smudge along his chiseled jaw.

There had been so much blood. So many lifeless faces, coated with blood. And poor Karen. The blood had pooled in her mouth, choking her last words.

“Oh God.” Shanna’s knees wobbled. Her vision blurred. Not now. Not when she needed to run.

The psycho customer grabbed her. “Are you all right?”

She looked at his hand, firmly gripping her upper arm. A red smear stained her white lab coat. Blood. Her eyes flickered shut as she sagged against him. Her purse tumbled to the floor.

He lifted her in his arms.

“No.” She was fainting away. She couldn’t let this happen. With one last feeble attempt, she opened her eyes.

His face was close. The world was fading away, and still he studied her, his eyes slowly starting to glow.

His eyes were red. Red like blood.

Dead, she would soon be dead. Like Karen. “Save yourself. Please,” she whispered. Then all went black.

Unbelievable. If Roman didn’t know better, he’d swear she wasn’t mortal. In more than five hundred years, he had never met a mortal who could resist his mind control. He’d never met a mortal who wanted to save him instead of kill him. God’s blood, she even believed he was innocent. And incredibly handsome—those had been her words.

But she was mortal. Her body felt warm and soft in his arms. He dipped his head lower and inhaled deeply through his nose. The rich aroma of fresh, human blood filled his senses. Type A Positive. His favorite. His grip tightened. His groin swelled. She was so vulnerable in his arms, her head dropped back to expose her virginal white neck. And damn if the rest of her didn’t look just as tasty.

As much as he craved her body, her mind intrigued him even more. How the hell had she managed to block his mind control? Every time he’d attempted it, she’d slapped it back in his face. The struggle of minds hadn’t angered him, though. Quite the contrary. He had still managed to read a few of her thoughts. Apparently she was frightened by the sight of blood. And her last thought before fainting had been about death.

But she was very much alive. She shimmered with heat and vitality, pulsed with vibrant life, and even unconscious, she was giving him one hell of an erection. God’s blood. What was he going to do with her?

His extra-sensitive hearing caught the sound of male voices on the front sidewalk.

“Shanna! Don’t make this hard on yourself. Let us in.”

Shanna? He noted her fair skin, pink mouth, and light sprinkling of freckles across her pert nose. The name suited her. Her soft, brown hair looked dyed. Interesting. Why would a lovely young woman hide her true hair color? One thing was certain. VANNA was a poor substitute for the real thing.

“That’s it, bitch! We’re coming in.” Something crashed through the front of the clinic, splintering glass. The mini-blinds rattled.

God’s blood. These men truly meant to hurt her. What could she have done? He seriously doubted she was some kind of criminal. She’d been too inept with her revolver. And too trusting of him. In fact, she seemed more worried about his safety than her own. Her last words had begged him to save himself. Not her.

The sanest course of action would be to drop her and run. After all, there were other dentists out there, and he rarely involved himself in the mortal world.

He looked down at her face. Save yourself. Please.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave her to die. She was… different. Something in his gut, an instinct that had rested dormant for centuries, flared within him, and he knew. He was cradling a rare treasure in his arms.

More glass shattered in the front office. God’s blood. He’d have to move fast. Luckily for him, that wasn’t a problem. He hefted her over one shoulder and grabbed her strange handbag with pictures of Marilyn Monroe printed on each side. He cracked open the back door and peered outside.

The buildings across the street were jammed together with metal fire escapes zigzagging up the walls. Most of the businesses were closed. Only a restaurant on the corner was still lit up. Cars dashed along the busier street, but this side street was quiet. Parked cars lined both sides. His extra-sharp senses detected life. Two men behind the parked car across the street. He couldn’t see them, but he felt their presence, smelled the blood pumping through their veins.

In an instant, he pushed the door open and swooshed to the end of the block. As he zoomed around the corner, he saw the two mortals just starting to react. They ran toward the open door, their pistols drawn. Roman had moved so fast, they hadn’t even seen him. He rounded another corner to the street in front of the clinic. There he hid behind a parked delivery van and watched the scene unfold.

Three black sedans blocked the street. Three, no, four men were there—two acting as sentries while the other two smashed their way through the glass storefront. Bloody hell. Who were these men who wanted Shanna dead?

His arms tightened around her. “Hang on, sweetness. We’re going for a ride.” He focused on the roof of the ten-story building behind him. A second later, they were there, and he was looking down on the group of thugs.

Shards of glass littered the sidewalk, crunching beneath the shoes of Shanna’s would-be killers. Only jagged stalagmites remained of the clinic windows. One of the thugs reached a gloved hand through the broken glass door and unlocked it. The others drew pistols from their coats and entered the clinic.

The door banged shut behind them, causing a shower of glass bits to rain down onto the sidewalk. The mini-blinds swung back and forth with a metallic rustling sound. Soon the scrape and crash of furniture could also be heard.

“Who are these men?” he whispered, but received no answer. Shanna lay still across his shoulder. And he felt stupid, standing there holding a woman’s purse.

He spotted some plastic patio furniture on the roof—two green chairs, a small table, and a chaise lounge left in a flat, horizontal position. As he lowered the dentist onto the chaise, his hand glided down her body and knocked into something hard in her pocket. Felt like a cell phone.

He set her purse down and removed the phone from her pocket. He’d call Laszlo and have him return with the car. It was possible to contact other vampires mentally, but telepathic communication didn’t always guarantee privacy. Roman was in a dilemma he didn’t want accidentally overheard by another vampire. He was short one fang and had just kidnapped a mortal dentist in worse trouble than he.

He zipped back to the building’s ledge and peered over. The thugs were leaving the clinic, six of them now, since the four in front of the clinic had been joined by the two from the back. They gestured angrily. Their muttered curses filtered up through the air to his extra-sensitive hearing.

Russian. And they were built like defensive linemen. Roman glanced over his shoulder at Shanna. She’d have a tough time surviving with these gorillas on her trail.

Abruptly, the men halted. Their voices hushed. Out of the shadows, a figure emerged. Damn, so there was a total of seven thugs. How had he missed this one? He could always sense the flowing blood and heated body of a mortal, but this one had completely escaped his notice.

The other six men slowly gravitated toward one another, as if they felt safer in a huddle. Six against one. How could six hefty thugs be afraid of one man? The dark figure moved to the front of the clinic. Stripes of light shot through the ravaged blinds and lit his face.

Bloody hell! Roman stepped back. No wonder he hadn’t sensed the seventh man. He was Ivan Petrovsky, coven master of Russian vampires. And one of Roman’s oldest enemies.

For the past fifty years, Petrovsky had divided his time between Russia and New York, keeping tight control over Russian vampires worldwide. Roman and his friends always kept themselves up to date on this old enemy. According to the latest reports, Petrovksy was making good money as a paid assassin.

Hiring oneself out as a killer was an age-old tradition among the more violent vampires. Murdering mortals was easy, even enjoyable for them, so why not get paid for the pleasure of going out to eat? The logic obviously appealed to Petrovsky, and he was making his living doing a job he could really love. And no doubt, he excelled at it.

Roman had heard that Petrovsky’s preferred employer was the Russian mafia. That would explain the six Russian-speaking, gun-toting mortals in his company. God’s blood. The Russian mafia wanted Shanna dead.

Did the Russians know Petrovksy was a vampire? Or did they merely think he was a hired assassin from the Old Country who preferred to work at night? Either way, they clearly feared him.

They had reason to. No mortal would stand a chance against him. Not even a gutsy young woman with a Beretta hidden in her sequined Marilyn Monroe handbag.

A moan drew his attention to the gutsy young woman. She was wakening. God’s blood, if the Russians had hired Ivan Petrovsky to kill Shanna, she wouldn’t live through another night.

Unless… unless she was under the protection of another vampire. A vampire with enough power and resources to take on the entire coven of Russian vampires. A vampire with a security force already in place. A vampire who had fought Petrovsky before and survived. A vampire who badly needed a dentist.

Roman approached her quietly. With a groan, she lifted a hand to her brow. Her struggles against his mind control had probably given her a headache. Still, just the fact that she could resist him was amazing. And since he couldn’t control her, he had no idea what she would do or say next. It made her a dangerous commodity to deal with. It made her… fascinating.

Her unbuttoned lab coat had fallen open, revealing a baby-pink T-shirt molded perfectly to her breasts. With each breath of air, her chest expanded. His jeans grew tighter. Her heated blood pumped through her veins, drawing him closer with each pulse. His gaze swept down to her tight, hip-hugging black pants. She was so beautiful, and she’d be so delicious. In more ways than one.

God’s blood. He wanted to keep her. She believed he was innocent. She believed he was worth saving. But what if she found out the truth? If she discovered he was demon, she’d want to kill him. He’d learned that too well with Eliza.

Roman straightened. He couldn’t make himself vulnerable like that again. But would this one betray him? She seemed different somehow. She’d begged him to save himself. Her heart was pure.

She moaned again. God’s blood, she was the vulnerable one. How could he leave her to that monster Petrovsky? Roman was the only one in New York who could protect her. His gaze wandered down her body and back to her pretty face. Oh, he could protect her, all right. But as long as his body howled with hunger and thrummed with desire, there was no way he could guarantee she’d be safe.

Not from him.

Shanna rubbed her brow. In the distance, she heard honking cars and the wail of an ambulance siren. No need for those in the afterlife. She was definitely still alive. But where?

She opened her eyes and beheld a night sky, stars partially hidden with mist. A breeze ruffled her hair against her cheek. She looked to her right. A rooftop? She was stretched out on patio furniture. How did she get here? She looked to her left.

Him. The psycho customer with the wolf tooth. He must have brought her here, and he was coming toward her right now. She scrambled to get off the chaise lounge and gasped when the flimsy furniture started to tip.

“Careful.” He was there immediately, startling her when he grabbed her arms. How did he reach her so quickly?

The pain in her head dropped a few degrees colder. His grip on her was firm. Possessive. “Let me go.”

“Fine.” He released her and straightened to his full height.

Shanna gulped. She hadn’t realized he was so tall. And big.

“You may thank me later for saving your life.”

That voice again. Low and sexy. So beguiling, but she wasn’t in the mood to trust anyone right now. “I’ll send you a card.”

“You don’t trust me.”

Perceptive, wasn’t he? “Why should I? As far as I can tell, you’ve abducted me. Without my permission.”

His mouth tilted up. “Do you normally give your permission?”

She glared at him. “Where have you taken me?”

“We’re across the street from your clinic.” He sauntered toward the ledge. “Since you don’t trust me, take a look for yourself.”

Right, stand on the edge of the roof with a psycho. No way. She’d been stupid enough, fainting in the clinic when she should have been running. She couldn’t afford any more moments of weakness like that. The gorgeous man must have carried her out. He really had saved her life. He was tall, dark, handsome, and heroic. Altogether perfect, except for the fact that he wanted a wolf’s canine tooth jammed into his mouth. Did he labor under the misconception that he was Wolfman? Was that why her gun hadn’t scared him? Only silver bullets could hurt him. She wondered if he was going to howl at the moon.

Get a grip. She rubbed her aching forehead. She needed to stop imagining nonsense and figure out what to do next.

She noticed her purse, sitting by her feet. Hallelujah! She set the purse in her lap and peeked inside. Yes! The Beretta was still there. She could still defend herself. Even against the gorgeous Wolfman if she had to.

“They’re still down there if you want to see them.” He glanced back at her.

She snapped her purse shut and gave him a wide-eyed Bambi look. “Who?”

His gaze flickered down to her purse, then back to her face. “The men who want to kill you.”

“Well, actually, I think I’ve seen enough of them today. So I’ll just be going now.” She eased to her feet.

“If you leave now, they’ll catch you.”

That was probably true. But was she any safer on a roof with a gorgeous escapee from a mental institute? She clutched her purse to her chest. “Okay. I’ll stay for a little while.”

“Good.” His voice softened. “I’ll stay with you.”

She backed away, putting the patio furniture between them. “Why did you rescue me?”

He smiled slowly. “I need a dentist.”

Not with a smile like that. Damn. A smile like that could melt a woman into a puddle of quivering hormones. I’m melting, I’m melting. “How… how did you get me up here?”

His eyes glimmered in the dark. “I carried you.”

She gulped. Obviously a few extra pizza pounds hadn’t overly strained the guy. “You carried me all the way to the roof?”

“I… used the elevator.” He pulled a cell phone from his back pocket. “I’ll call someone to pick us up.”

Us? Who was he kidding? She didn’t trust him any farther than she could spit. But he had saved her from the hit men. And so far, he’d behaved like a gentleman. She ventured toward the edge of the building, keeping a safe distance from the mysterious rescuer.

She glanced down. Wow, he’d been honest with her. They were across the street from the clinic. Three black sedans were double-parked in the street, and a group of men stood there, talking. Planning how to kill her. She was so screwed. Maybe she could use an ally. Maybe she should trust the crazy but gorgeous Wolfman.

“Radinka?” He held the cell phone against his cheek. “Can you give me Laszlo’s cell phone number?”

Radinka? Laszlo? Were those Russian names? Her skin chilled with goose bumps. Oh God. Big trouble. This guy was probably pretending to be her friend so he could lure her away from the city and—

“Thanks, Radinka.” He punched in a new number.

Shanna looked around and located the stairway entrance. Now, if she could just ease over there without him noticing.

“Laszlo.” His voice became authoritative. “Bring the car back immediately. We have an emergency situation here.”

Shanna moved slowly. Quietly.

“No, you don’t have time to go to the lab. Turn around now.” A slight pause. “No, I didn’t get the tooth fixed. But I have the dentist with me.” He glanced her way.

She froze and tried to look bored. Maybe she should hum a tune, but all that came to mind was the one she’d heard earlier in the evening. “Strangers in the Night.” Well, that fit.

“Have you turned around yet?” Wolfman sounded irritated. “Good. Now, listen carefully. Do not, I repeat, do not drive past the clinic. Go one block north of the clinic, and we’ll meet you there. Do you understand?”

Another pause. He turned to look over the ledge. Shanna resumed her stealthy approach to the stairway.

“I’ll explain later. Just follow my directions, and we’ll be safe.”

She slipped past the patio furniture.

“I know you’re just a chemist, but I have full confidence in your abilities. Remember, we don’t want anyone else to know about this. And now that I think about it, is our… passenger still in the car with you?” Wolfman walked toward the corner of the building, keeping his back to her and his voice low.

So the rascal didn’t want her to hear this. Can you hear me now? The phrase goaded her. No, she couldn’t hear,dammit. Quickly she tiptoed after him. Her old ballet teacher would have been impressed with her speed.

“Look, Laszlo. I’ll have the dentist with me, and I don’t want to alarm her any more than necessary. So take Vanna out of the backseat and stick her in the trunk.”

Shanna halted. Her mouth dropped open. Her throat seized up, making it hard to breathe.

“I don’t care how much crap you have in the trunk. We’re not driving around with a naked body in the car.”

Oh no! She gasped for air. He was a hit man.

He whirled around suddenly to face her. With a strangled squeak, she leaped back.

“Shanna?” He turned off the phone and held it out to her.

“Stay away from me.” She backed away, fumbling in her purse.

He frowned. “Don’t you want your phone back?”

That was her phone? He was a murderer and a thief. She yanked out her Beretta and pointed it at him. “Don’t move.”

“Not that again. I can’t help you if you keep fighting me.”

“Yeah, like you really want to help me.” She eased toward the staircase. “I heard you talking to your friend. ‘Oh, Laszlo, we have company. Put the dead body in the trunk.’”

“It’s not what you think.”

“I’m not stupid, Wolfman.” She continued to move toward the stairs. At least he was staying put and not making any moves. “I should have shot you the first time.”

“Do not fire the weapon. The men below will hear it. They’ll come up here, and I’m not sure I can defeat all of them.”

“All of them? My, don’t we think highly of ourselves.”

His eyes darkened. “I have some special talents.”

“Oh, I bet you do. I bet that poor girl in the trunk could say a lot about your special talents.”

“She’s incapable of speech.”

“Well, duh! Once you kill someone, they tend to be lousy conversationalists.”

His mouth twitched.

She reached the stairway door. “If you come after me, I’ll kill you.”

She pulled the door open, but in the blink of an eye, he was there. He slammed the door shut, wrenched the gun from her hand, and tossed it aside. It hit with a clunk and skittered across the rooftop. She squirmed, wiggled, kicked at his shins. He grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her against the door.

“By God, woman, you are hard to control.”

“You better believe it.” She pulled against his grip, but couldn’t free her wrists.

He leaned closer. His breath stirred her hair and feathered her brow. “Shanna,” he whispered her name like a cool breeze.

She shivered. His hypnotic voice tugged at her, lulling her into a sensation of comfort and security. False security. “I won’t let you kill me.”

“I don’t want to kill you.”

“Good. Then let me go.”

He lowered his head, his breath tickling her throat. “I want you alive. Warm and alive.”

Another shiver zigzagged through her body. Oh God, he was going to touch her. Maybe even kiss her. She waited, her heart hammering in her chest.

His voice whispered in her ear, “I need you.”

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut when she realized how close she’d come to saying yes.

He moved back, still gripping her wrists. “I need you to trust me, Shanna. I can protect you.”

Her headache returned with a vengeance, cold pain stabbing at her temples. She gathered all her strength, every fiber of resistance, and rammed her knee into his groin.

Breath whooshed out of him, strangling his shout before it could erupt from this throat. Only a few garbled croaks emerged. He doubled over and fell to his knees. His complexion, pale before, turned a mottled red.

Shanna winced. She’d gotten him good. She spotted her gun beneath the patio table and ran to collect it.

“Holy Mother of God!” he gasped, supporting himself on all fours. “That hurts like hell.”

“It’s supposed to, big guy.” She dropped her Beretta back in her purse, then sprinted for the staircase.

“I never—no one’s ever done that to me.” He gazed up at her, his contorted expression of pain mellowing into a look of stunned wonder. “Why?”

“Just one of my special talents.” She stopped at the staircase door and grasped the knob. “Don’t follow me. Next time, I’ll shoot you down there.” The door opened with a loud, scraping noise.

She stepped onto the stairway landing and let go of the door. With a loud creak, it started to swing shut. She was halfway down the stairs when it closed with a final bang and left her in total darkness. Great. She slowed her pace. The last thing she wanted was to act like one of those girls in the movies, always tripping and twisting her ankle, then lying there helpless and screaming when the bad guy arrived. The banister ended, and she was on the bottom landing. She inched forward with her hands stretched out until she reached the door.

She yanked the door open and was greeted by light. The hallway was empty. Good. She ran to the elevator. A sign dangled in front of the metal doors. Out of Order. Damn! She glanced back over her shoulder. So the scumbag had lied to her. He couldn’t have brought her up the elevator. She looked around for a service elevator, but couldn’t see one. However he’d gotten her on the roof, she didn’t have time to worry about it.

She located the central stairwell. Thank God it was lit inside. She rushed down the flights of stairs and reached the ground floor. There was no noise behind her. Thank God. It appeared that Wolfman was not giving chase. She inched open the stairwell door and peered outside. The lobby was dimly lit and empty. The building’s main entrance boasted two glass doors. Through them, she could see the black cars and hit men.

She slipped into the lobby, and hugging the walls, she retreated toward the back entrance. The glowing red exit sign called to her like a beacon, promising freedom. Safety. She’d find a taxi, go to some obscure little hotel, and then, in the safety of her room, she’d call Bob Mendoza again. And if the U.S. marshal was still missing, she’d empty her bank account in the morning and take a train somewhere. Anywhere.

She peeked outside, saw no one, then exited the building. Immediately a strong arm encircled her waist and pulled her back against a rock-hard body. A hand smacked across her mouth in an iron grip. She kicked at his shins and stomped on his feet.

“Stop it, Shanna. It’s me,” a now familiar voice whispered in her ear.

The Wolfman? How could he have beaten her down the stairs? She moaned her frustration against his hand.

“Come on.” He pulled her down the street, past a row of empty umbrella tables. A banner fluttered overhead, announcing the name of the bistro. The next shop had a glass storefront, lined with burglar bars. He dragged her into the recessed doorway. The awning overhead shaded them from the street lamps. “Laszlo will be here soon. Just stay quiet until he arrives.”

She shook her head, trying to dislodge his hand.

“Can you breathe all right?” He sounded concerned.

She shook her head again.

“You won’t scream if I let go? I’m sorry, but I can’t have you making noise with the hit men so close.” He loosened his grip.

“I’m not that stupid,” she mumbled against his palm.

“I think you’re very intelligent, but you’re also in deep shit. That kind of stress can cause anyone to make a bad move.”

She turned her head to see his face. His jaw was strong and lean. His eyes were focused on the street, no doubt scanning for danger. “Who are you?” she whispered.

He glanced down, and a ghost of a smile haunted his wide mouth. “I’m someone who needs a dentist.”

“Don’t lie to me. There’s a gajillion dentists out there.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You lied about the elevator. It’s out of order. I had to use the stairs.”

His mouth tightened, and he resumed his search for danger without bothering to answer.

“How did you get here so fast?”

“Does it matter? I want to protect you.”

“Why? Why should you care?”

He paused. “It’s complicated.” He looked at her, and the pain in his eyes took her breath away. Whoever this man was, he understood suffering.