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“How do you take yours?”

“Holding my nose.”

His face crinkled as he laughed, and then he became serious. “How many bags have you drunk tonight?”

“Two.” She’d forced them down, taken her medicine like a good girl. One every other day had kept her weak and hungry, two every day was supposed to keep her sated. Hardly.

Catch stared at her a moment and then nodded.

“Why the interest in the number of bags?” she asked.

“One of the conditions of your release.”

He spread his legs and Dava’s gaze drifted to the impressive ridge on the left side of his zipper. Except he wasn’t hard, just a big guy. Twenty years of nothing but a memory of Gabriel and her fingers to bring her pleasure—she was ravenous.

“The release form you signed. Remember?”

She hadn’t read it. She’d have signed a petition to let werewolves piss in the park in order to get out of that hole.

He cleared his lovely throat. “You’re to drink two bags of Plasmix every night immediately after you wake. From now on, you’ll be visited once a week by a VRB representative who needs to be satisfied you’re behaving. You make no attempt to contact any of your previous acquaintances. You stay away from those you wish to destroy.”

Dava smiled. “I have no wish to destroy anyone. Twenty years in solitary confinement? I’ve learned my lesson.”

The bastard laughed. “I doubt it. But put one foot wrong and you’ll be begging for solitary confinement after we’ve finished with you.”

Yeah, whatever.
“So what now?” Dava asked. “Want to—get acquainted?”

“Fuck you? No thanks. You’re not my type.” Catch stood up.

Dava clenched her teeth hard and tasted blood.
Shit.
From the flare of his nostrils, she realized Catch knew. “I’m bored,” she whined. “Stay and play.”

Catch walked toward her, caught a lock of her hair in his fingers and twisted it. A sexy gesture that evaporated as he kept twisting until it hurt.

“Play on the laptop or find a hobby,” he said. “They gave you money. Go buy a jigsaw puzzle. A big one. Impress them with your dedication.”

The door slammed and Dava scowled. They’d sent him to tempt her, taunt her. They’d— Dava frowned. He’d said
they
gave her money. She was to impress
them.
Not
him
? Figure of speech or something else? But his refusal to have sex with her rankled the most.

Another name for her list.

* * * * *

Before Catch had knocked on Dava’s door, he’d pulled his vampire half to dominance. He didn’t want her to notice he was part shifter. Catch hadn’t expected her to react to him, but he was still relieved to see no flicker of recognition. Dava hadn’t wanted to kill him, only fuck him. He chuckled. Some things never changed.

She hadn’t recognized him or his name. As a vampire-cross, part werewolf and part vamp, Catch was able to morph his features into an alternate face. Undercover work seemed an obvious choice, though Catch hadn’t been given one. He’d worn his other face twenty-two years ago when he’d infiltrated Gabriel’s organization. After Purelight came crashing down, he’d never used it again.

After he’d left Dava’s apartment, Catch stood in the shadows and watched for a while. The VRB had surrounded her with temptation in the form of walking, talking food, and Catch wasn’t sure if that was deliberate or not. Leopards don’t change their spots, and greedy, psychopathic, blood-sucking bitches don’t happily settle in suburbia on a diet of Plasmix and reality TV. The laptop offered her a whole new world. While she had enough intelligence not to shit on her doorstep, Catch suspected no other doorstep was safe.

He’d done his job, which was to check she was behaving herself. Box ticked. Well, it wasn’t actually Catch’s job. He didn’t work for the VRB, but one show of his badge had persuaded Michael, the assigned VRB vampire, to let him do this week’s interview. Lois really did have a broken fang.

In a way, Catch was disappointed his undercover identity remained intact. If she
had
recognized him and attacked, he’d have been within his rights to kill her. One less monster to worry about.

Catch saw Michael lurking in the shadows of the bus shelter, still waiting for him to emerge, which didn’t fill Catch with confidence. If he’d missed Catch coming out of the building when he hadn’t even been trying to be evasive, the young vampire had no chance of monitoring a conniving bitch like Dava. Catch sidled to the rear of where Michael stood and came up behind him.

“Boo,” Catch said at his ear.

The guy nearly jumped out of his skin. Fucking useless.

“Oh hi. I didn’t see you come out. Is she behaving?” he asked.

Catch wondered what he’d do if he said Dava was practicing tying knots with some guy’s guts.

“So far,” Catch said.

“Good. You want to take over next week as well? Lois will still be off.”

“No.”

Catch hoped this guy was brighter than he seemed, stronger than he looked, and that he was gay. He’d still need more than that to stay safe from Dava.

“She’ll try and get into your pants,” Catch said as he walked away. “Don’t let her.”

Catch had spent twenty years waiting to come face-to-face with the woman who’d wrecked his life. Now he wanted her to cock up so he had an excuse to destroy her. How could a weekly ten-minute visit over a couple of months by some naive social worker be enough to satisfy anyone that Dava had reformed? Only an idiot would fail to realize that after two decades, a few more weeks or months of waiting were nothing.

Dava should never have been released. She should never have been imprisoned. That went for her sire Gabriel too. Catch had expected the pair to be eliminated after their trial. He suspected they had a powerful friend on the Vampire Council. He’d made some enquiries and Mike, Catch’s boss, had warned him off.

No point hanging around. Catch was due to call on Gabriel, who’d been housed in a different city. As if that would make a difference. He cast a final glance at Dava’s window and went to get his bike.

* * * * *

Catch parked around the corner from where Gabriel lived. This time the VRB agent came to him.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show,” said the guy, holding up his badge. “Ken Burton. Nice bike. Honda Superhawk?”

“Yep.” Catch showed his ID.

“What excuse are you going to give him for me not turning up? Just so I know.”

“Promotion exam?”

Ken laughed. “In my dreams. Look, I’m not happy about not seeing him today. I won’t lie on my report. Tell him I’ll come round tomorrow instead.”

“Fine.”

“You’ll be okay getting in. The building has been cleared for vampire access. I’ll wait for you to come out. Number seventeen.”

“What’s he like?” Catch asked.

“Nice enough guy.”

Catch held back his groan of despair.

He walked around the corner and crossed the road. Gabriel had been housed in a place similar to Dava’s. Below the building, youths milled around outside a fish and chip shop, drinking beer and snogging girls who wore bum-hugging skirts and thin tops. Fashion held sway over the freezing temperature.

The stupidity in imagining a vampire like Gabriel would reform was mind-boggling. Catch knew what the man was capable of, and yet he hadn’t even been called to give witness against him at the trial. For Catch’s protection, he’d been told
. Yeah right.
Now Gabriel was back in circulation and no doubt getting ready to start again.

Pinning the pair out in the sun would have been a more suitable punishment for what they’d done. They’d built up hopes and dreams, sucked up money from those who could least afford it and ruthlessly disposed of anyone who got in their way. Time after time Catch had begged his boss to bring Purelight down before something really bad happened. Catch had been increasingly concerned Turner was going to open his mouth and get himself killed. But the answer was always to wait, that they wanted bigger fish.

They’d never caught them.

In the end, it had been something simple that had undone Gabriel. A tax inspector on a surprise visit had found what he shouldn’t, and Dava had killed him. The guy’s partner ran the
Vampire Times
newspaper and began asking difficult questions about his lover’s disappearance. Catch had been in Paris on Purelight business when the newspaper guy disappeared. Things quickly began to unravel. On Catch’s return, he found almost everyone gone from Purelight. Some sixth sense of trouble brewing before he’d left ensured Turner was safe, following up a false lead in Leicester, but after Gabriel and Dava were arrested, fifty vampires connected with Purelight remained unaccounted for. Catch felt responsible for every one of them.

Only Gabriel and Dava went on trial. Others either slipped through the cracks or were dismissed as dupes, caught up in the scam through lack of intelligence or inexperience. Catch didn’t think justice had been done to all, but pushing the issue would open up a route to Turner, and Catch wanted him kept out of it.

So, had Gabriel spent twenty years planning his revenge? If so, on whom? Was he planning to start Purelight up again? Or was he working on something else?

Catch walked up the stairs to the second floor. It was Gabriel’s failing and thus Catch’s weapon that Gabriel wasn’t the sort to let a good deed go unpunished. Catch suspected Gabriel would wait until the VRB thought he was behaving and then strike like a fucking cobra.

But at who? Please not Turner.

Vampire dominant, his wolf tucked away, Catch knocked on the door.

When it opened and he saw Gabriel standing there, Catch felt his fists clench and had to force his fingers apart. The guy looked no different, and despite everything he knew about him, Catch couldn’t help but find Gabriel compelling as well as disturbing.

“Michael’s taking an exam. I’m Catch,” he blurted.
Nervous?
He took a deep breath.

Gabriel smiled. “Come in.”

Catch saw no sign of recognition, but he’d have to be careful. Even with a different face and his own voice, rather than using his undercover persona’s drawl, it was impossible to disguise every nuance of his speech and quirk of mannerism. One tiny thing could trigger Gabriel’s memory.

Gabriel was well named. He looked like an angel. Tall and muscular with sleek blond hair that fell to his shoulders, and always fucking smiling. Catch was more of a dirty blond and “why use a comb when fingers worked fine” type. Gabriel had the sort of face that made even those who weren’t gullible want to like him, love him, trust him with their last penny. Catch’s face made people cross the street. He wasn’t bad-looking but he oozed “keep off” from every pore.

“I’m delighted to meet you,” Gabriel said, and held out his hand.

Catch shook fast and let him go. Powerful as Gabriel was, Catch didn’t think he could read a were-vamp’s mind, but he didn’t want to give him the chance to try, particularly when Catch had to keep pushing his wolf down so he didn’t give himself away.

“Any problems?” Catch asked.

“No, everything is wonderful.”

Catch wanted to vomit. “Drank your Plasmix?”

“Yes. Very tasty.”

Now he
really
wanted to vomit. “What have you been up to?”

“Still finding out about this fantastic new world. We’ve so much to be thankful for.”

“And are you?” Catch snapped.

“What?”

“Thankful?”

Gabriel smiled, and Catch saw nothing in it and yet saw everything.

“I’m very thankful. I want to devote my life to showing how thankful I am.”

Catch asked a few more inane questions, got a few more inane answers, told Gabriel that Michael would call the next evening and left. He repeated what Gabriel had said to Michael and then rode home.

He’d hoped to feel satisfied the pair was under proper supervision, but how could he ever feel that, even if the VRB guys had turned out to be shit hot? Catch had a list of those he thought Gabriel would go after. Not necessarily to kill but to speak to. His undercover name—Logan—was on there, but there was only one name that really mattered to Catch.

Turner.

No matter what else Catch managed to achieve in relation to Dava and Gabriel, keeping Turner safe was paramount. Catch knew Turner had moved house, but that wasn’t enough to keep them off his trail, surely the idiot knew that.

Catch might not have spoken to Turner in twenty years, but he hadn’t been able to keep away from him. Catch wasn’t sure whether seeing him from a distance and never speaking had made the ache in his chest worse or better. Had Turner ever spared him a thought that wasn’t one of hatred? Walking away from Turner had been the hardest thing Catch had ever done in his too-long life, but he’d figured it was no more than he deserved and the only way to keep Turner under the radar.

Now Catch had to keep him safe again, and maybe he’d be more effective if he were close by rather than trying to keep tabs on Dava
and
Gabriel. Catch’s cock perked up and he snorted. After twenty years, even the thought of Turner was enough to give him a hard-on.

Maybe it was time to set a ghost to rest.