Let Them Speak (Vampire Assassin League #13) (8 page)

“Uh…Dev?”

That breathless, smoldering voice couldn’t be hers, could it? Because she sure hadn’t meant to sound like a sex siren at full alert. Where was the justice in that? Devereaux pulled his head back, closed his mouth, and then he regarded her with a frown between his brows. That look was worse than stimulating. Every prolonged bit of viewing him sent trills of shivers coursing her skin.

“
Um…my fangs. Look. They…grew.”

She
used the same throaty voice, the one that sent sensual vibes without a hint of effort. She watched him lick his lips before he dipped his chin to regard her; his obsidian dark eyes still narrowed. Unblinking. Everything on her body ratcheted up a notch in anticipation. Or something.

“Yes,” he answered finally.

“I get it. It’s emotion that triggers it. Right?”

“Yes,” he replied again
.

“And what makes them retract?”

Before he could answer, the intercom came on, disrupting and altering what was turning into a vortex of want. Need. Sexual urgency. Fervency. Craving. Sydney glared at the speaker at the same time she silently thanked it.

“Good morn
back there!   Looks like we’re coming up on Belize City, folks. Should be touching down in about ten minutes. And not that anyone ever does, but if you’d like to take a seat and fasten a seatbelt, well. Now is your chance.”

“Vaughn?” Devereaux enquired.

“Yep. In the flesh.”

“
Why aren’t you at Casa Castillion, renting the estate to that film crew?”

“Anyone can do that
. We do have Power of Attorney paperwork. You should know. You signed it. And I’m a pilot. The best. Akron changed the plan. So. You ready to land or what?”

“How long until dawn?”

“Right. Vampires. Give me a sec. Let’s see…sunrise? Belize City? Looks like you got…two hours, eleven minutes.”

Devereaux hadn’t moved his gaze from hers
. He lifted his eyebrows as if awaiting something.

“What?” Sydney asked.

“You ready to accept me?”

“
Now
I get a proposal?”

“
Sydney Ross LLC. It’s your decision. You want to land? Or…you want to circle for a bit while you work on those fangs of yours?”

“You’re
actually giving me a choice?”

“
And a condition.”

“Oh really
. What is it?”

“You accept me
. Us. I won’t take it any other way.”

“It?”

Sydney licked her lips. He pulsed in place. She watched it. Gloried in it. Barely kept from launching into his lap over it.

“
Women!
  Can’t live with them. Can’t live without them. Whoever said that was a genius.”

“How original,” she replied in the same low voice.

“I speak and it still comes out wrong. Sydney. Please. You are my mate. My one. My only. I cannot change that and I don’t want to. You want an apology? I can’t speak one. It would be false. I may not have been an honorable man, but something about you changes me. Please understand. I cannot believe how much I love you. Already. And I want you. Need you. Crave you.
Merde!
  Everything on me is in revolt because I won’t act on that desire. I don’t know what else to say. The two hours before you’ll need rest is barely enough time to begin.”

“You still listening, Vaughn?”  Sydney turned her head to ask it.

“Oh. I—uh…”

“
Well…turn off the switch and start circ—”

Devereaux
’s kiss interrupted her. He hadn’t been exaggerating his need. Or his readiness. He was just lucky he didn’t say a word about how well it matched hers.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Devereaux had read the file while his beloved rested, her body in a stasis resembling death, although the bloom on her cheeks and her lips belied it. She was stunning. Wonderful. Extremely agile…and he truly appreciated it. Vaughn probably had a laugh at their expense when he saw the wreck they’d made of the aircraft cabin. Dev didn’t care. He had other options. He’d already ordered a replacement jet for this evening. They could destroy that cabin, too.

What a pleasant thought.

The file had been large. Complete. It took up a few bytes on his inbox before he’d deleted it. It hadn’t been original but it was still interesting. Devereaux smirked through most of the words. Humans and greed and family ties. He’d lived some of those plot points and read more than his share over the years.

Looks like he had a family blackheart to assassinate
.

It would be a
pleasure.

The
assignment was Anton Carlotti Hughes. Height: a shade under six foot. Weight: too much. According to the photo attachments, he looked to be carrying some table paunch around. He was a fairly young twenty-seven. Arrogant. Self-confident. Aggressive. Spoiled. Flamboyant dresser. Italian descent…through his mother’s side. He had a receding hairline he blamed on his matriarchal line. It was especially noticeable, since he wore his hair long and pulled back in a shoulder-length queue. The ladies apparently found him handsome enough, or the photos were inaccurate.

That might be due to his income more than his looks, however
. Anton Hughes held an extremely well-paying job. Being nephew to the Carlotti Brothers Menswear founder and CEO was a lucrative position. Apparently his uncle had put Anton in the finance department, reporting directly to the Chief Financial Officer.

Tsk
. Tsk
.

T
he Senior Carlotti hadn’t even checked on his nephew’s job performance until two of his heirs and sons were assassinated. Fairly recently, too. The money trail pointed right to the embezzling nephew, Anton Hughes. That information sent Carlotti Senior to VAL. And that took Devereaux and Sydney to this area of jungle watching one small wood-framed bungalow as the night got blacker, the insects more voracious sounding, and then a slight mist decided to add to the setting. His denims darkened with moisture as they got heavy with damp and then clung. The t-shirt was the next casualty.

“
We don’t need insect repellent, do we?”  Sydney whispered at his ear.

He
shook his head.

“Nice
. Perfect vision. Super strength. Flight.
And
immunity to insects and spiders. Like I said. Nice. Hmm.”

His groin kicked in on that little purr of hers
. He would’ve warned her not to do it again, except it was fairly pleasant. And he’d been on a drought for centuries. Dev turned his attention back to his mark. Focused. And found him again.

Looks like
Anton knew he’d been found out and targeted. There were clues. Why else would he hole up in this technologically dead spot? Continually light cigarette after cigarette behind the screened-in porch? Post six gentlemen with AK-47s in the grounds of his rented house? They weren’t the only bodyguards. Anton had two more burly types accompanying his every move from behind the screened porch. All packing the same hardware. Anton even carried a short sword at his belt.

Not one of them had a crossbow
. Or a flame suppression tank with CO2 canisters and Holy Water. Nowhere had they strung up lines of garlic buds. Although garlic was ineffective, they wouldn’t know that. Nobody even looked to sport a crucifix. Or, if they did, it was hidden beneath their clothing, where it might hurt, but wouldn’t stop an approach. Interesting. Anton had contacted and used VAL to assassinate his own cousins…and he hadn’t even done his homework?

He didn’t know he was dealing with real vampires
. Piece of cake.

“What are we waiting for?” 

Sydney spoke again, using that low whisper of hers that carried sensual undertones that reached out and grabbed—

“Dev?”

“Uh…sorry. What did you ask?”

“Why are we sitting out here getting
wetter by the moment?”

“We’re assessing p
otential collateral damage.”

“
We are?”

“
Here’s the quandary. We can leave a mass carnage scene the authorities may never decipher, or a clean, one-man hit that no one sees coming. Which do you prefer?”

“Three is mass carnage?”

“Three?”

She pointed to the house
and counted aloud. “One. Two. Three. Duh.”

“
Ah. I do love you, Syd. You know that?”

“D-do you ever
give a straight answer?”

Her voice had stuttered just slightly
. He smiled at what it might mean.

“
Open your senses more, Love. You’ll see and smell and hear five more men, posted on the ground in intervals of forty yards. There’s another one staked on the roof, flat on his belly, melding to the peak. He’s facing the wrong way, which is rather amusing. You see him?”

“Oh
. Wow. Yeah. I see four. Five. Yep. Got them all.”

“So
. Which is it to be, Darling?”

“
Kill all of them? Or just one? Is that what you’re asking?”

“
Yes.”

“Then why d
idn’t you just say so in the first place? Honestly, Dev. You spend way too much time being overly-eloquent and showing off a massive vocabulary when a few words work just fine.”

“Really?”

She smiled. What light there was glistened on perfect features. She really was beautiful. And that safari-style shirt she wore was plastered to that nicely-rounded bosom of hers. Just right for—

“What did they do?”

He moved his gaze to hers and blinked. “What?” 

“Yeah
. What? As in…what did they do?”

“Who?”

“Who? The other guys out there. The ones we’re debating killing. You having attention deficit issues, Devereaux?”

Was he ever
.

“They, uh
. They—”

“Yes?”

He had to look away in order to get his own tongue to form words. She had the most mesmeric gaze and wasn’t even adept at using it yet!   It was a combination of her lush lashes, her silver-hued eyes that her spectacles had previously distorted, and the way she could flash a look at him. Just him. He was worse than salt clay in her hands. He was even trembling. And this was ridiculous.

“Are we, or are we not, here to assassinate somebody?”

“We are,” he answered the night.

“And did you or did you not ask
me to decide the fate of the others?”

“I did.”

“Then, why on earth are you having trouble with my request for more information?”

“Because you’re here
. With me. Right
there
.”

“Yes, I am, Dev
. Just as I have been since I woke. Or whatever we call it. Are you okay?”

He sucked in his cheeks, turned his head and got snared by her eyes again
. “Okay?”

She nodded.

“I may never be okay again, Sydney Ross LLC. I—I.”  He swallowed in order to make sense. “I
love
you. I mean…I never really considered everything that word meant until—”

“Oh
. Dev.”  She stopped him with a finger to his lips. And her voice sounded strange.

“If you say my name like that
again, Syd, we’re going to have a hard time killing anyone…for a span, anyway.”

“
Oh yeah? Well, don’t you even think of making me say it while I’m debating life and death, either.”

“Say what?”

“I just told you, don’t make me say it.”

“You love me
! ”

H
e had her lips against his, that mist-encased form of hers pressed to him, his chest heaving against her breasts, his belly slammed to hers, his thighs…oh!   His thighs were against hers—

“Devereaux Castillion.”

The moment Akron spoke, Dev yanked his head back. His next move was to separate his entire form from the absolute nirvana of holding onto Sydney. The voice had been so commanding and clear he was actually surprised to find nothing more than wet jungle all around them.  

“What is it?”

Her voice trembled on the words
. His matched when he answered.

“Uh
…incoming message. From the boss.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

She was pouting. He shouldn’t look. It made the place where his heart had reanimated hurt. He still looked. “Oh, Syd. I love you. I do. More than I believed possible. I truly look forward to demonstrating it…uh. Just as soon as we finish with the assignment. We have a deal?”

“I guess.”

“All right. So tell me. Which is it? All of them? Or just one?”

Her shoulders fell and he almost grabbed her back up
. Two things stopped him. One, she’d turned back to contemplation of the bungalow, and the other was Akron’s voice as he cleared his throat. The sound came right through Devereaux’s head again.

“What did he do?”

“Who?” 
Akron?

“Who
? That guy down there. Honestly, Dev. Do you want to get this over with or not?” 

“
Oh. Him. He stole money from his uncle. Used it not only to rent this lovely abode in the middle of nowhere, but he also paid to have two of his uncle’s sons assassinated.”

“No
! ”

“Oh yes.”

“His own cousins?”

“Yes.”

“That’s awful.”

“It’s human nature
, Syd. Well…the dark side of it. When you live a bit longer you’ll see. Well? You make a decision yet?”

He was getting impatient
. His voice wasn’t the only thing demonstrating it. He was starting to move from foot to foot as he waited.

“Oh
. That Anton is dead meat. I want his head.”

“Fair enough
. And the others?”

“What did they do?”

“Associated with the wrong man.”

“He’s paying them
, though? Right?”

“
Well, yeah. They’re not friends.”

“How do you know?”

“Human nature. When you’ve lived longer—”

“That again?
”

“All right
. You win. I read it in his file. Anton doesn’t have friends. He has employees.”

“
How can we even think of killing them, then? We’d have it on our conscience for like…ever.”

“We’re vampire
s, Syd. We don’t have consciences.”

“Oh yeah
? Well, if I’m going to be a vampire and I’m going to be your mate, then you’re finding a conscience. Or-or-or, I don’t know. You can grow one. You got that?”

Devereaux regarded her for the count of three
while every bit of him sparked. Gyrated. Effervesced. He pulled every muscle taut with the effort of holding the surge of emotion back. It was akin to being a rocket and having thousands of fuses lit. All at once. And somehow he had to avoid the explosion.

She didn’t realize what she’d said.

“You got a problem with any of that, Devereaux Castillion?” she asked.

Okay
. Maybe she did know exactly what she’d said. Dev responded with a grin so wide, it should’ve torn a cheek. And then he cleared his throat in order to answer.

“
Oh yeah. I got it, Love. One head coming up. Everybody else lives. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“But—”

She may have said more. He was out of range. Moving silently and with a speed that sent any drops from the leaves he touched into the airstream created by his passage. He was at the porch before the first bit of firepower started spattering the leaves he’d disturbed. By then, he’d launched right at the netting, taking it inward with his lunge, before the moorings ripped free of wood. Bullets were getting nearer as the shooter attempted to catch up with Devereaux’s movement. One housebound guard moved to lift his rifle. He got a kick to the throat, just enough to incapacitate him for a bit, not kill. The other got slammed through a wall, taking wood shards with him.

Anton’s face was a mixture o
f disbelief, horror, and fatalism. Dev grabbed the man’s pony-tail with his left hand, the short sword with his right, and sliced. Quick. Clean. Mercilessly. Bullets were slapping into the walls all about, showing most of the outside guards reacting. Dev jumped upward, slamming through the trusses with his shoulders. That move dislodged the roof sniper and sent debris raining down onto what was left of Anton.