Motherfucker! On top of me was the man who’d turned the love of my life into a vampire almost two hundred and twenty years ago. Talk about irony.
Liam, or Ian, was a murderer by his own admission. Granted, his employees may or may not have stolen from him; the world never lacked for fools. Vampires played by a different set of rules when it came to their possessions. They were territorial to a fantastic degree. If Thomas and Jerome knew what he was and stole from him, they’d have known the consequences. But that wasn’t what stayed my hand. Eventually it boiled down to one simple truth—I might have left Bones, but I couldn’t kill the person responsible for bringing him into my life.
Yeah, call me sentimental.
“Liam, or Ian, if you prefer, listen to me very carefully. You and I are going to stand up. I’m going to pull this knife out, and then you’re going to run away. Your heart’s been punctured, but you’ll heal. I owed someone a life and I’m making it yours.”
He stared at me. The glowing lights of our eyes merged.
“Crispin.” Bones’ real name hung between us, but I didn’t react. Ian let out a pained laugh. “It could only be Crispin. Should have known from the way you fought, not to mention your tattoo that’s identical to his. Nasty trick, faking to be unconscious. He would have never fallen for it. He’d have kicked you until you quit pretending.”
“You’re right,” I agreed mildly. “That’s the first thing Bones taught me. Always kick someone when they’re down. I paid attention. You didn’t.”
“Well, well, little Red Reaper. So you’re the reason he’s been in such a foul mood the past few years.”
At once my heart constricted with joy. Ian had just confirmed what I hadn’t allowed myself to wonder. Bones was alive. Even if he hated me for leaving him, he was alive.
Ian pressed his advantage. “You and Crispin, hmm? I haven’t spoken to him in a few months, but I can find him. I could take you to him, if you’d like.”
The thought of seeing Bones again caused a shattering of emotions in me. To cover them, I laughed derisively.
“Not for gold. Bones found me and turned me out as bait for the marks he was paid to kill. Even talked me into that tattoo. Speaking of gold, when you see Bones again, you can tell him he still owes me money. He never paid me my share of the jobs like he promised. The only reason it’s your lucky day is he helped rescue my mother once, so I owe him for that, and you’re my payment. But if I ever see Bones again, it’ll be at the end of my knife.”
Each word hurt, but they were necessary. I wouldn’t hang a target around Bones’ neck by admitting I still loved him. If Ian repeated what I said, Bones would know it wasn’t true. He hadn’t refused to pay me on the jobs I’d done with him—I’d refused to take the money. Nor had he talked me into my tattoo. I’d gotten the crossbones matching his out of useless longing after I left him.
“You’re part vampire. You have to be with those glowing eyes. Tell me—how?”
I almost didn’t, but figured, what the hell. Ian already knew my secret. The how was anticlimactic.
“Some newly dead vampire raped my mother, and unluckily for her, his sperm still swam. I don’t know who he is, but one day I’ll find him and kill him. Until then, I’ll settle for deadbeats just like him.”
Somewhere on the far side of the room, my cell phone rang. I didn’t move to answer it, but spoke hurriedly.
“That’s my backup. When I don’t answer, they come in with force. More force than you can take on right now. Move slowly; stand up. When I take this knife out, you run like hell and don’t stop. You’ll get your life, but you’re leaving this house and you’re not coming back. Do we have a deal? Think before you answer, because I don’t bluff.”
Ian smiled tightly. “Oh, I believe you. You’ve got a knife in my heart. That gives you little reason to lie.”
I didn’t blink. “Then let’s do this.”
Without another comment, Ian began to pull himself to his knees. Each movement was agony for him, I could tell, but he thinned his lips and didn’t make a sound. When we both stood, I carefully drew the blade out of his back and held the bloody knife in front of me.
“Goodbye, Ian. Get lost.”
He crashed through a window to my left in a blur of speed that was slower than before, but still impressive. Out in front, I heard my men rushing up to the door. There was one last thing I had to do.
I plunged the same dagger into my belly, deep enough to make me drop to my knees, but high enough to avoid mortal injury. When my second officer, Tate, came running into the room, I was gasping and bent double, blood pouring out onto the lovely thick carpet.
“Jesus, Cat!” he exclaimed. “Someone get the Brams!”