The Merzetti Effect (A Vampire Romance) (5 page)

“Jesus!”

“For what it’s worth, the Merzetti woman’s blood
was
your type, or at least what your type used to be, pre-mutation. I hoped it would reverse the mutation, but I didn’t know what else it might do. Now, thanks to your muddying the waters with your second meal, I still don’t know.”

“You
picked
me!
Motherfucker!
You lured me … with her … as the bait.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Webber made a weak lunge. Delano didn’t even bother to retreat.

“Kill you! Rip out your heart while it’s still beating … suck it dry.” The fight slowly went out of Webber as he realized the futility of his threat. “Must be something … you can do!” He clutched at Delano with clammy hands. “For God’s sake … Bowen … have mercy!”

Mercy? Delano felt his face harden. He removed Webber’s hand from his arm.

“First, Edward, you’d do better to ask for God’s mercy. I have none to give you. And secondly, you’re too far gone for my help. You were too far gone before I drew that blood. Even if I wanted to, I can’t offer you the support you need here. I just don’t have the tools. And you’d never make it to hospital, even supposing they knew what to do with you when you got there.”

Another tremor. “Then don’t leave me.”

Delano arched an eyebrow. “To die alone, you mean? Like you left every one of your victims to do?”

“Please … I’m sorry.”

Black-hearted sonofabitch wasn’t sorry. He’d do it all over again if he had the chance. But he was dying and he was frightened and he was human, dammit.

Bowen sat on the nearby bed. “I’ll stay.”

A
INSLEY JERKED AWAKE
. The room was dark but for a pool of yellow light cast by a small reading lamp in the corner, but she felt none of the usual waking-in-a-strange-room confusion. She knew instantly where she was. And she knew
he
was there.

“Dr. Bowen?”

A soft laugh. “You have extremely keen night vision, Ms. Crawford.”

She angled her head in the direction of his voice. There. A shadow, to the left of the door. “I don’t know about that. Pretty average, I’d say. But I could sense you in the room.”

He stepped into the light, or at least his black-clad legs did. Rather long legs, she noticed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m feeling much better. Stronger.”

“So Eli told me.”

Another step carried him further into the circle of light. Lean hips, the gleam of a belt buckle, the first two buttons on a black shirt, hands hanging loosely at his sides.

His hands…

A memory flickered in her brain, shrouded and diffused like sheet lightning pulsing behind a bank of clouds. Those hands … she’d felt them cradling her head, lifting her torso, felt his lips pressed hotly to her throat…

God, what was wrong with her? Fantasizing about her rescuer again, for pity’s sake. It was that damned dream. It had been so vivid.

He took a seat beside her bed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The light spilled over his face then. A sharp thrill‌—‌half fear, half fascination‌—‌shot through her. Oh, man!

A few strands of wet hair fell forward from that widow’s peak she’d admired before, suggesting he was fresh from the shower. But his jaw was still darkened by the shadow of beard stubble. Had he had that earlier tonight?

Yes. She’d felt it when he’d carried her. Or at least, she thought she remembered it. And his eyes still burned with all the intensity she remembered. She found herself wishing he’d take off the glasses.

A panther. That’s what he reminded her of. Powerful, glossy, breathtakingly vital. And extremely dangerous.

She swallowed to moisten her mouth. “The vampire?”

“He won’t trouble you again.”

She couldn’t quite suppress a shiver. “He’s dead?”

A slight pause, but no flicker of expression. “He’s dead.”

She digested that, or rather, she tried to.

Her first reaction was profound relief. It flooded every available brain receptor like a blast of narcotics. Relief that the beast who’d come so close to taking her life had paid with his own life, damn him. Relief that the creature that might have infected her‌—‌goddamn him again!‌—‌would infect no one else.

But her relief was followed immediately by horror. Horror at her own reactions. Horror at the actions of the dark Dr. Bowen. If he were right, if vampirism was a blood-borne pathogen, then her attacker was just a man. Granted, he’d treated her as though she were little more than a walking Tetra Pak, but he was nonetheless afflicted and in need of curative treatment.

And what of her? What if she were to develop this mutation? Would Dr. Bowen dispense with her as easily as he had her assailant? Would his brow be just as unruffled afterward? God, she’d seen Botoxed newscasters with more expression in their foreheads than this man was displaying. And this after admitting to a kill. Or at least, not denying it.

A
kill
.

She wet her lips. “I was thinking, if I’m feeling this good tomorrow, I’d like to go home.”

His eyebrows shot up. Expression at last.

“Impossible.”

Impossible?
The single word caused a fist of tension to close around her stomach. Impossible because he didn’t judge her well enough, or impossible because he refused to let her go?

“What, am I a prisoner here or something?”

“Of course not.”

Another jolt of relief. “Then I want to go home.”

“Have you forgotten you may be infected? I’ll have to monitor you. We’ll need frequent blood checks. No, you must stay here.”

She propped herself up higher in the bed. “Of course I haven’t forgotten my exposure, Dr. Bowen. But I don’t see why I can’t go home. Send Mr. Grayson over as often as you like. Or send him over to stay with me. I just need to go home.”

“Why?” He leaned closer as though he genuinely wanted to know the answer. “There’s no one waiting for you there. No husband, no children, no pets, no dependents. Why do you need to go home?”

Pain, raw and unexpected, sliced through her. Is that how he saw her, alone, lonely?

“Thank you for highlighting so succinctly what you consider the barren nature of my life. But it just so happens that I believe there’s more to life than marriage and children. Like career. Like making a difference in people’s lives.”

“Ah, yes, your career.” He sat back in his chair, raking back the strand of hair that fell on his forehead. “I understood it was dealt a serious blow last month when you resigned from the hospital authority under a bit of a cloud. A charting episode?”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Her heart lurched, then thundered. How did he know that? How the
hell
did he know it? Who had he been talking to?

She paled as another thought struck her. How did he know about her domestic living arrangements? How had he known she lived alone?

That eyebrow again, lifting eloquently. “What, no comment on the charting debacle?”

Anger surged, choking coherent thought. “The circumstances of my leaving the hospital are nobody’s business but mine!”

“You don’t think a prospective employer should be permitted to investigate a potential employee’s track record?”

“Who did you talk to?” she demanded.

“I hardly think that’s relevant.”

“It sure as hell is relevant. They agreed to give me a clean, if not particularly enthusiastic, reference.” She found the hydraulic lever on the side of the bed and raised the head of it while she talked. “That was the deal, in exchange for my leaving. That’s all they wanted, to get rid of me. The allegations were bogus and they knew it, but they didn’t care.”

“So you were framed?”

“Yes, I was framed, dammit!” She paused a few seconds to bring herself under control. When she continued, her voice sounded more like her own. “Okay, I know that probably sounds pretty lame, but it’s true. They saw me as a whistleblower, not a team player. So when these allegations were raised, they jumped at the chance to get rid of me.”

“I know.”

“This all happened because I reported an anesthetist’s gross criminal misconduct. But I had to! Those surgeons, or at least some of them, had to have known about his drug problem, yet no one would come forward. Sooner or later, someone would have come to harm, maybe even died, and‌—”

“I know. You did what you had to. I wholeheartedly approve of your decision.”

That brought her up short. “You know about all this?”

“Of course. When I pay as much for information as I did in this case, it has to be comprehensive.”

She blinked. “You paid for information on me?”

“You should be pleased to know the personnel department is keeping up its end of the bargain. Your reference is clean enough, for anyone making a conventional inquiry.”

“But that wasn’t good enough for you?”

He shrugged. “As you can see, my research is a little sensitive. I need people whose discretion I can trust absolutely.”

She snorted. “You found it
reassuring
to learn that I was a whistleblower? I would have thought that little detail would be a deterrent. What, for instance, makes you think I wouldn’t rat you out? Something tells me your research might not be in strict compliance with the Tri-Council’s ethical standards for research involving humans.”

He smiled. It started slow, then spread until it suffused his whole face. And oh, Christmas, he was gorgeous when he did that. Which was the absolute last thing she should be thinking. This man had violated her privacy!

“Okay, what’s so funny?”

His smile faded much quicker than it had appeared. “You are a fearless little thing, aren’t you?”

Her neck prickled. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been sitting in that bed, thinking what an unprincipled rogue I am, what a disgrace to the healing arts. You’ve wondered about your own safety, about the wisdom of staying here under my care. Indeed, you’ve wondered whether I would let you leave. Even now, I can see you second-guessing whether the hospital might be a better bet, after all. And yet you dare to raise the specter of reporting me to Health Canada for regulatory breaches. You are, Ms. Crawford, quite a piece of work.”

Dammit, she’d let her mouth run on again. When would she learn? Ignoring the heat that rose in her cheeks, she tilted her chin.

“If that sounded like a threat, I apologize. I hardly know enough about your research to even speculate about compliance issues. And I would certainly not reward you for saving my life by jeopardizing either your livelihood or your research. As I’m sure your investigation revealed, Dr. Bowen, I have trouble staying silent in certain situations. Which begs the question again, what made me look like a desirable employee for such a … delicate project?”

“Your financial situation.”

Ainsley gasped. “You investigated my finances?”

“I believe I mentioned I expect a thorough job when I commission an investigation.”

Of course! That’s how he knew about her domestic situation. Did he know about Lucy and Devon?

She schooled her face into what she hoped was an expressionless mask. “So, what did that highly illegal investigation tell you, Dr. Bowen, to convince you that I was the candidate you wanted?”

“It told me that until you left your employment last month, you earned very good money. That you’d been working as many extra shifts as you could safely work without compromising your patients’ safety. That you live in a modest bachelor apartment and drive a vehicle that was bequeathed to you by an elderly patient, a vehicle that is sadly past its prime. You take very little vacation, and spend virtually nothing on yourself, and you have no drug habits to support. Yet you have a significant appetite for money. Money which barely has time to hit your bank account before it gets transferred offshore.”

For the second time in the last ten minutes, her heart hammered against her ribcage like a wild thing. Which made it hard to keep her face impassive. “Again, you viewed this as a good thing?”

Another smile, this one tight and controlled. “Quite definitely. You need immediate employment to keep the dollars flowing into that bank account. And despite your former employer’s agreement to stay mum on that little cloud over your head, your employment opportunities are limited unless you’re prepared to relocate, which takes time and money. Just as obviously, you need your employment to be lucrative, stable and predictable. All of which augured well, I thought, for a mutually beneficial relationship. Your need for cash, my need for discretion…”

“And did your impeccable source tell you any more?”

“About the money? No. Certainly I could have pursued it further. I’d have had to switch channels, but I assure you, the information could be had. Information is the one commodity that can always be purchased.”

“So … what? You decided you’d already spent too much money on your little investigation?”

“Hardly little. And money was not the issue, you may be sure.”

“Then why not pursue it to the bitter end?” Her voice broke and she had to pause. Goddamn him. “Just think‌—‌my humiliation could have been complete.” She blinked rapidly to forestall the tears that burned the backs of her eyes and tickled her nose. “You could have fed my Big Secret back to me and watched me sweat even harder.”

“
Humiliate
you?”

His face turned thunderous and he came to his feet.

Despite herself, she shrank back, just the merest of movements, but he detected it. And it seemed to infuriate him further.

“Ms. Crawford,” he said through thinned lips, “as hard as this may be to comprehend, I couldn’t give a damn about what your so-called big secret is. You could be using your money to bankroll an insurgence in Haiti or to establish a training camp for white supremacists in Arkansas for all I care. The only thing that matters to me is that it exists.”

“But you had me investigated.”

“I did. And if you want to accuse me of exploiting your situation, I guess you could make a pretty good argument. But I will not wear the mantle of your torturer. If you believe that, I’ll have Eli drive you home tomorrow, or to the hospital, or wherever you wish to go, and you can take your chances on your own. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been up all night. I’d like to get a little sleep before we take this conversation up again.”