When Temptation Burns: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 6) (14 page)

But it wasn’t the future he was concerned with now. His father had always said that a man should look
toward the future only if his feet were firmly planted on today.

Today
.

He smiled, because today he’d set the wheels soundly in motion. Soon, every other cell leader would know that Paul was the man to watch. That he was the one who would lead the charge for the ultimate eradication of the dark creatures.

“Gentlemen, your stakes.”

The men raised the plastic stakes that they’d been supplied with for training purposes.

“Bryce? If you’d do the honors.”

To his left, Bryce Lowell stepped forward, his face wind worn and craggy. Bryce had served his country for twenty-five years, and even though he was officially retired, he was serving it still by training Paul’s Dark Warriors.

“If you men will step off the mat,” Bryce said. The men complied, each stepping backward until they were no longer on the oval-shaped mat that had been constructed out of hematite. An interesting metal, it affected vampires quite dramatically, sapping their strength and eradicating their ability to change into mist.

At the same time, Bryce spoke into a walkie-talkie. Moments later, two uniformed men led a pale woman into the room. She wore a metal collar and had long dark hair, and her sharp eyes cut straight into Paul, promising retribution. She wouldn’t have the chance to follow through, of course. Paul would use her for training purposes until she was too weak to provide a good workout for his team. Then he’d move on to one of the other two vampires he had trapped in the cells below the bunker.

He used the females for battle training; he had to ensure
that his men wouldn’t go easy in combat simply because they were fighting a woman. The male vampire that was currently imprisoned in the bunker served another purpose. Paul used it for training the men to withstand a vampire’s ability to control a human’s mind. At first, the vampire had refused to assist Paul in that very necessary operation, but once Paul had explained—through the use of a syringe filled with liquid hematite and acid—how painful noncompliance could be, the vampire had become much more amenable. And the men now had a 98 percent success rate in withstanding a vampire’s compulsion.

“Private,” Bryce said, pointing to one of the men. “You’re up.”

The blond-haired private stepped onto the mat just as the handler shoved the vamp on with him. She turned, snarling. She didn’t, however, attack. Just stood there, staring at the private.

“This is a training exercise, female,” Bryce said. “Attack.”

“Fuck. You.” Her voice, raw and hoarse, grated on Paul like sandpaper.

He reached for the small control box in his pocket and pushed the button. Immediately, she was on her knees, her hands clawing at her throat, as if she was trying to rip off her own head.

“Attack,” Bryce said again, but once again the female only looked up at him, her face now curled into a pain-filled sneer.

“Go,” Bryce said, this time to the private. “She’ll defend herself.”

The blond man shot a quick glance at the other men, then moved forward. He was experienced in hand-to-hand,
but it was obvious that he wasn’t used to attacking a downed opponent. Finally, he kicked her in the ribs. She grabbed his foot, and was on top of him with incredible speed, fangs bared, head bending toward his neck.

Paul crossed his arms and watched. He didn’t want her to win, obviously, but he had no use for soldiers who couldn’t prevail. They all understood the risks. Training was training—but it was also for keeps.

The private got his hands under her and shoved, pushing her off of him. He was on his feet in seconds, using the momentum of his rise to propel himself forward and into her. They went tumbling, him on top of her. In the next instant, his stake came down, the hard plastic slamming straight into her heart.

She went limp, blood spilling onto the mat. She’d be given blood to revive her, and then the next soldier would have a go.

The private backed away, breathing hard, as the other men applauded.

“Excellent,” Paul said. He turned his attention to the other men. “Tonight, you train. But tomorrow … tomorrow I’m sending six of you on a mission. Tomorrow night, you take the first step toward our prime objective.”

“Name?” The tuxedoed doorman held a clipboard, his finger poised to scroll down a list of names.

“K-Kevin. K-Kevin Whalton.”

He sounded so nervous that Andy took his hand and squeezed. “We’re invited,” she told the doorman. “For the cocktail party.”

“Of course. Here you are.” The doorman made a quick check mark, then stepped aside to call the elevator down from the penthouse. A moment later, the Warford Hotel’s ornate elevator doors slid open, and Kevin and Andy stepped inside. The doors closed, and Kevin turned to her, grinning like a fiend.

“Holy shit, is this cool or what?”

“It’s pretty snazzy,” Andy had to agree.

“Can you believe it? I mean, he’s throwing this party for me. For us. Wes and Stu, I mean. Not you and me.”

She laughed, amused by how nervous he was, and at the same time worried that his nerves would give her away and he’d do something foolish like mention that she was a reporter.

He’d stumbled into her apartment last night and told her that Paul Vassalo himself had called to say that he was holding a special cocktail party to congratulate Kevin and his friends on their defeat of the werewolf. She’d held her breath and she hadn’t pushed, but she’d been desperate to go with him.

And then, miracle of miracles, he’d invited her. Granted, the reason he’d done so was that he wanted to prove to her that werewolves really did exist and that the Dark Warriors were doing God’s work, so he hadn’t just extended the invitation out of the goodness of his heart.

Didn’t matter.

The point was that Andy was riding with him in the elevator of one of the West Coast’s most prestigious hotels. They were heading to the penthouse—which dozens of movie stars and heads of state had stayed in over the years. Heady stuff, but even better was the fact that she’d be mingling with the infamous Paul—a man who
just might be the key to another career-making story. She’d be charming and flirtatious and interesting and whatever else was required to get in Paul’s good graces and stay there. Because at the end of the day, she was getting this story. Whatever it took, she was getting it.

“So, uh, do I look okay?”

His red hair stood up in spikes, and he was so pale from nerves that his freckles seemed to float off his skin. But his suit was snazzy and his smile was bright and she couldn’t help reaching over and squeezing his hand. “You look awesome.”

The elevator’s walls were mirrored, and she took the opportunity to check out her own appearance. She’d learned long ago to play up her pale eyes with dramatic liner and tonight she’d paired it with a shimmering silver eyeshadow that matched the metallic sheen of her simple, shiftlike cocktail dress. Other than that, she wore little makeup. Just some powder and pale lip gloss. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head and held in place by an ornate clip that used to be her mother’s. A few tendrils fell loose to frame her face. On the whole, she thought she looked party-ready. Hopefully she also looked like a girl to whom Paul would wish to divulge all his deepest secrets.

Beside her, Kevin was shifting his weight from foot to foot as he reached up to loosen his tie, the expression on his face suggesting that the thing was about to choke him. She smiled fondly at him. He hadn’t dated much since high school, and sometimes she wondered if he’d ever find the balls to ask a woman out. Maybe a new reputation as a macho werewolf hunter would do the trick. So long as the women didn’t think he was insane, it probably couldn’t hurt.

The doors opened to reveal the stunning suite. Candles covered every surface, lending the room a fairy-tale glow. It looked like it was lit by fireflies. Despite her nerves about the party and her impression that Paul was either running a scam or was some sort of nutcase, she had to admit she was charmed.

“Kevin!” A gangly man with bushy blond hair and a frat boy grin hurried up, hand outstretched. He started pumping Kevin’s arm, and immediately began talking. “Stu’s not here yet—the idiot isn’t answering his phone—but isn’t this amazing? And all for us. What did I tell you, buddy? What did I tell you? I’m Wes, by the way, and who are you?” He focused on her, his smile going wider and his voice turning oilier.

“Andy,” she said, taking the hand that had dropped Kevin’s and reached for hers.

“The hell it is. You’re too beautiful to have a man’s name.”

“It’s Andrea,” Kevin put in.

“It’s Andy,” she said firmly, tugging her hand free.

“She’s a looker, Kev, and a spitfire, too.”

“She’s my cousin,” Kevin said.

“And that makes her even prettier,” Wes said, sidling closer.

Andy fought back the urge to show him another meaning of spitfire. Instead, she smiled thinly and reminded herself that this was one of the boys that had seen the werewolf. He was a source. An asshole, but a source. “Can you tell me about it? The werewolf, I mean.”

“Oh, man, it was fucking ferocious. I mean, he started out looking like anybody, you know? And then—whammo—he turned into a monster. Right in front of us. I tell you, if we hadn’t moved fast, we’d be dead.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Wesley.” The voice was honey smooth and it came from behind Andy. She turned, and found herself staring into the rugged face of a man who seemed to command the entire room with nothing more than a glance. “I think our young Wesley is trying to impress you,” he said to Andy, his mouth curving into a smile. “And who can blame him.”

“You’re very kind,” she said.

“Paul Vassalo. And you’re Andrea Tarrent. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You have?” She looked sideways at Kevin, who seemed bewildered.

“I told him I was bringing you as a date, but—”

Paul laughed. “Don’t worry. I didn’t run a background check. It’s just that your name comes up often.”

“My name?” This was making no sense whatsoever.

Paul spread his hands expansively. “What else do family men talk about but their family?” He turned slightly, and Andy shifted in the same direction, then gasped.

She glanced sideways at Kevin, but he looked as bewildered as she did. “Daddy?” she whispered as the floor shifted beneath her feet.

Her father crossed the few yards that separated them, then hooked an arm around her and pulled her to him in that familiar way he had. “Hello, sweetheart,” he said, then kissed the top of her head. “And you look spiffy, Kevin.”

“Thanks,” Kevin said, but there was a vertical crease of confusion between his eyes.

Andy looked up at her father, who was smiling at her and the cluster of people who stood around them as if he didn’t have a care in the world. She knew better, though. This was the man she knew best in all the world,
and she could see the strain on his face and feel the tension in his arms.

“What a surprise—I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said brightly, because she couldn’t think of a single thing else to say.

“I could say the same thing,” Andrew Tarrent said. “Imagine my shock when I arrive early to share a drink with Paul and he tells me that not only is one of the guests of honor my nephew—” He cut off for long enough to raise his glass in a silent toast to Kevin. “—but that the same young man is bringing my daughter as a date.”

“He wasn’t happy at first,” Paul said to Andy. “He’s been struggling for months with whether or not he should tell you about what we do here.”

“You mean fighting the monsters?”

“Exactly.” He aimed a smile at her father. “You see, Andrew? I told you she’d take it in stride. After all, considering what killed her mother, she has a vested interest, too.”

Her mother?

Her mother had been mugged. What the hell was Paul talking about?

Her father’s arm tightened against her. “It’s not something she likes to talk about.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and not even trying to hide the tears that began to well in her eyes. “No, it’s really not.”

Paul’s brow furrowed, and he looked genuinely distraught. “I’m so sorry. Of all people, I should know better than to bring up such a painful memory.” He pressed a hand to her arm in a gesture of genuine sympathy. “The pain of losing a mother never goes away; it only sinks beneath the surface. I’m sorry to have dredged it up again.”