chapter 15
The women had been awake for several hours when the men finally joined them in the kitchen. The summer sun had passed its zenith, but it still shone outside, brightening the heavy shades covering the windows. A thin shaft of light found its way into the kitchen and danced across the floor. Gerard and Vincent gave the errant beam a wide berth as they moved toward the kitchen table where Amber and Megan still sat with their coffee.
Megan stood to meet Vincent’s lips as he bent forward for a kiss—a kiss that made Amber ache. She turned away, her gaze colliding with Gerard’s as he leaned against the counter, animal hunger glowing in the depths of his flame-blue eyes.
Desire heated her blood. Her muscles clenched with hot, aching need. Bending forward, she pressed her buttocks to the chair, straining against carnal cravings. Arms crossing her waist, elbows jabbing her thighs, she fought an almost uncontrollable need to reach for Gerard and drag him back to bed.
That hard, rocking body called to her, his eyes promising more than just sexual gratification. They promised a lifetime of love. But Gerard’s lifetime extended into eternity. And she had an expiration date.
Sadness swathed her soul, smothering desire like a wet blanket tossed over an open flame. Her shoulders slumped.
When Megan broke free of Vincent’s not-so-casual embrace, Amber reached up to grab her wrist, clasping it as if it were a lifeline.
“Tell them about the vaccine,” she blurted out, desperate to escape the weight of Gerard’s stare.
Megan opened her mouth. Gerard cut her off before she could speak.
“Whatever it is can wait. It’s Friday afternoon already. That gives us three nights before Amber has to go back to work Monday morning.” The words resonated with a calm efficiency incongruent with the bulge distorting the front of his jeans.
Amber released Megan’s arm and leaned back against the chair, forcing her eyes away from the evidence of Gerard’s desire. “Three nights for what?”
He pushed away from the counter with predatory grace. “To search the parking lot at Lifeblood for any lingering trace of the clone.”
Picturing Gerard on all fours, nose to the pavement as he sniffed asphalt in search of skin cells and stray scent particles doused the remnants of her lust. She huffed out an exasperated breath. “How are you going to explain sniffing around the parking lot like a bloodhound?”
“He shouldn’t have to,” Megan said. “The facility closes at five today and won’t reopen again until Monday morning.”
“And don’t worry about the security guards,” Vincent added. “We’ll keep the situation contained.” As usual, his primary focus was damage control.
Amber understood his fear of discovery. She’d watched a couple of vampire movies through spread fingers when she was younger. A vampire’s survival hinged on secrecy. But finding Axle Travers took precedence. She stood, turning to face Gerard.
“What makes you think you can track a clone when you couldn’t track Nicolas—a full-fledged vampire?”
He arched a brow, looking offended. “I’d never met Nicolas. So, I couldn’t recognize his imprint—or scent. But I’m linked to the clone by blood, and I’ll have your help tracking him.”
“You might be able to follow an invisible odor trail but I need a paper trail.” He’d be better off with a dog.
Do vampires even like dogs? Did they keep pets? There was so much she didn’t know about Gerard—so much she was afraid to learn.
“You’re a dhampir,” Vincent said, playing that tired tune again. “Tracking is inherent.”
Her head started to pound. She rubbed her temple. “I follow evidence. I need footprints or credit card receipts—something tangible. I don’t know how to use whatever skills you claim I possess.”
Gerard stepped closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you learn how to track with your mind. Between my genetic connection and your intrinsic abilities, we should be able to pick up his scent. Then Vincent and I can follow it. If we’re lucky, he’ll lead us back to Weldon’s lab.”
Even if that was possible, did he really think she’d play pointer and then go home to await his call? This was her case. She wasn’t walking away.
She opened her mouth to protest, but Vincent beat her to it. “We can’t go in blind. We need time to formulate a plan. Once we find the facility, Amber can obtain blueprints, and Sonia can help with the cleanup afterward. We need to cover our tracks.”
“My partner would be more help than Sonia,” Amber protested, knowing she couldn’t include Reid in the investigation. “She might know how to get into computers without leaving a trail, but Reid would know where to look. I trust him. I don’t trust her.”
Too much caffeine and too many suggestions on how she should run her investigation made her edgy. She wasn’t used to taking orders from civilians—especially—vampire civilians.
“You don’t trust any vampire. Do you?”
“Vincent!” Megan popped his chest with the back of her hand. He barely flinched.
“Give it a rest, Vin.” Gerard stepped behind Amber, resting his palm on the small of her back, infusing her with confidence. “Just because she’s a dhampir doesn’t mean she’s going on a vampire-killing spree.”
“She might,” Vincent said, watching her as if half-expecting her to snap at any moment. “She’s a born hunter.”
“So are vampires,” Gerard responded in her defense.
Technically, vampires weren’t born. They were created. But why belabor the point? They were effective hunters. They had to be to have survived for so many years. But she wasn’t a natural born anything.
Even if she was a dhampir—and she wasn’t admitting anything without proof—she wasn’t motivated by instinct alone. She’d honed her survival instincts in Iraq—instincts tempered by intelligence.
Then again, she had slept with a vampire. How smart was that?
She forced a smile. “Relax, Vincent. I’m not some dumb animal incapable of thinking a situation through. I don’t need your vampire girlfriend’s help. I just need to find Weldon’s location and then go in at high noon, locked and loaded.”
But going commando on Weldon and his vampire would be a lot easier if she had silver bullets. Or a crossbow with sterling arrows. All she had was her Glock, Megan’s vampire sedative, and the sterling silver letter opener she planned to snag from her desk at home.
“Sonia’s not my girlfriend.” Vincent winced when he looked at his wife. It didn’t take a detective to recognize guilt. At some point, he and Sonia had been lovers. But for a vampire, it could have been a month ago or a century ago.
Megan looped her arm through his and leaned against his shoulder. “I’m not jealous of Sonia.” She didn’t sound jealous but her flashing eyes spoke volumes. She didn’t like the vampiress. Not one little bit.
Amber smiled. “Either way, I don’t need her help.”
“You might.” Megan ground her teeth as if it pained her to say the words. “I hate to admit it, but she has her uses. And she’s not afraid to kill. Vincent and Gerard could hesitate where Sonia wouldn’t.”
“I’ll do whatever’s necessary,” Vincent said, as if his wife had questioned his manhood.
Gerard nodded in agreement. Two alpha males on a mission. Then his determined expression turned resigned. “Vampires instinctually protect their creator and any vampires they’ve created. It’s a bond stronger than family or friendship. It’s a blood bond. I didn’t create the clone, but we share the same DNA—the same blood. And Vincent created me. So, whether we like it or not, if killing was our only option, we might hesitate. Sonia wouldn’t. We need her.”
Doubt settled in the pit of Amber’s stomach. If a vampire who looked like Gerard attacked, could she kill him? Would she be able to tell the difference between him and his clone?
“Shouldn’t a creature created from your DNA share the same instincts?” Megan asked. “If you can’t kill him, then he shouldn’t be able to kill you. Or Vincent.”
“I don’t know.” Gerard shifted, leaning away from Amber. “I do know destroying a man with my face won’t be easy.”
“Well, don’t think I’ll hesitate,” Amber said. “If it’s kill or be killed, I’ll get the job done.”
Killing a reflection of Gerard would haunt her dreams, but taking a vampire into custody didn’t seem like a viable option. Explaining to her captain why she’d staked a suspect with a sterling silver letter opener didn’t sound plausible either—assuming there’d be enough left of the corpse to raise the question.
“It’s the hunter in you,” Vincent said.
“Killing isn’t genetically imprinted on my DNA like a barcode. I’m a cop who used to be a soldier. It’s the training.” But had that latent instinct pushed her to be a better soldier? Had it allowed her to be more aggressive?
She’d volunteered to man the guns the night they entered the Ninewah Province in Iraq—the night Hodges and Morrison died. She’d sprung into action at the first mortar explosion, killing at least two insurgents.
Reid claimed she was a better detective—better with weapons. They both assumed it was due to her army training. But what if it was because she had a genetic predisposition for violence? For—hunting?
“You do have certain abilities,” Gerard said. “And you’re going to need to hone those skills if you want to survive. You’re also going to need Sonia’s help whether you want it or not.”
“Why? Does she know where Weldon is?”
“No, but—”
“If she can’t locate your clone with vampire magic, then there’s only one way to find Weldon. And that’s through good, old-fashion police work.”
“Sonia has resources you can only dream of,” Vincent insisted. “We need her.”
“Then why hasn’t she found Weldon already?”
Sonia probably could find the researcher if she put her mind to it. Unless she was afraid of losing Vincent if she embraced her dark powers. She could be clinging to the hope that Vincent would return to her when Megan grew old. The vampiress might relish her immortal nature, but she hadn’t lost all ties to humanity. Like every other woman Amber knew, Sonia wanted to be loved and understood. It was obvious in the way she carried herself. In the way she spoke—or maybe, not so obvious.
Maybe I subconsciously learned something about Sonia when she was inside my head.
Dhampir skill? Or just an analytical and observant mind?
Vincent’s gaze slid away, and if Amber wasn’t mistaken, a faint blush stained his cheeks.
“Point taken,” he said.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “What’s that, Vamp? You apologizing?”
“Hardly.”
Megan elbowed him in the side. “Stop being an ass.” Then she turned to face Amber. “So, what do you propose? Talking to Nicolas?”
Her stomach knotted. She wasn’t ready to hear the truth from Nicolas. Not now. Maybe never. She cleared her throat. “Researching my past isn’t a priority. My job is. And right now, I need to find Axle Travers and the person or persons responsible for the murders.”
Even if one or more of those persons wasn’t human.
Vincent pulled Megan into his arms as if his touch alone could protect her. “Weldon’s responsible. He’s still researching vampires, and he has Axle. So, we need to find him before he takes another hostage.”
The clone wasn’t human. It never had been. Does it even have a soul? A conscience? “The clone has to be stopped, by whatever means possible. But I’m taking Weldon into custody.” She wasn’t about to violate his civil rights.
Vincent snorted. “If you can find him.”
“I will.”
“How? You refuse Sonia’s help. You refuse to admit you’re a dhampir. How are you going to find him? I doubt he has a Facebook page.”
Amber smiled, trying to hold back a laugh. Despite Vincent’s lack of faith in her abilities, she was on familiar ground. “Research. Brains over brawn—or vampire hocus-pocus. I just need to take another look at the case files. The evidence is there. I just have to figure out a way to apply it to vampires—and Dr. Weldon.”
“The man’s guilty. Why wasn’t he a suspect?” Vincent challenged.
The prickly vampire rubbed her the wrong way. She clenched her jaw to keep from snapping back. “There’s no motive. He worked with Tina at Baldwin Industries. That’s his only connection to this case. If he was involved in anything more illegal than stealing the money Timmons had stashed in the Cayman Islands’ account, the evidence was destroyed in the gas explosion that damaged Baldwin Industries before the government shut it down.”
“That wasn’t an explosion,” Gerard said. “The damage was done when Vincent and Sonia rescued me from the sub-basement. Colonel Weldon’s men set a gas explosion afterwards to cover up the truth.”
“He wasn’t protecting vampires,” Vincent added. “He was protecting his operation.”
Timmons had known about vampires longer than either Vincent or Gerard knew. He’d been quietly planning for years, which probably explained why some of Gerard’s DNA had survived. Timmons most likely had an alternate research site planned from the beginning. After his arrest, he’d alerted Weldon, and the researcher put those plans into motion with the money stolen from the offshore account. Weldon was wanted by the FBI in connection with the missing money, but local authorities in Virginia were no longer interested, and North Carolina didn’t consider him a suspect in any crimes.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Gerard’s quiet accusation set her pulse to pounding.
If she’d trusted him completely, she would have told him the truth about her mother’s connection to Timmons sooner. She swallowed her guilt, unable to meet his gaze. “When my dad was injured in the Beirut bombing, Nicolas rescued him and—” A fleeting thought took root. Her pounding heart nearly stopped beating.
Her mother’s fear and hysteria had little to do with vampires. She’d known Nicolas. She’d known he was Amber’s father. And she’d believed him dead—the man she loved. The truth had been there all along. Nicolas all but confessed. He didn’t save Greg because they were friends. He saved him because he loved her mother.
“Amber? Are you all right?” Megan asked.
Gerard laid a hand on her shoulder. The gentle contact was nearly her undoing.
“What’s wrong, mon chérie ?” he asked, his voice a salve to her wounded soul. “Why do you cry?”
Was she crying? She raised a shaking hand to brush away a stray tear. Her throat ached. She swallowed against the pain. “My mother knew about vampires.”
Slowly turning toward him, she placed her hands on his chest, a silent plea for forgiveness. “Nicolas went to see her after saving my dad—after saving Greg. He loved her. He was the father of her child—my father. She thought he was dead. Then—”
Emotion closed her throat, trapping the rest of her words. More tears spilled over her lashes. Fearing Gerard’s rejection, she dared to lift her chin to meet his gaze. Pity—love—heartbreak all mingled in the blue depths of his eyes.
Cupping her cheeks, he raised her face to meet his as he lowered his head and planted the softest of kisses against her forehead. “No more tears, mon amour.”
She hiccupped. “You don’t understand.” She pulled away, hugging herself against the pain. “She was angry—confused—afraid. Nicolas was in the army when he died—when he was converted. My mother called his former sergeant. Timmons wasn’t a colonel then.”
Gerard and Vincent exchanged glances, silently communicating.
“It explains his obsession,” Vincent said at last. “And how he knew we existed.”
“He believed her story but kept the knowledge to himself,” Gerard added. “It was his chance to advance his career. If he’d succeeded in creating invincible soldiers under his command, he would have been more powerful than the president.”
Amber dropped her hands to her sides. Her heart ached. Before she could step away, Gerard draped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her to his side.
Swallowing the emotional knot tightening her throat, she said, “My mother wasn’t trying to hurt Nicolas. She must have loved him, and for all intents and purposes, she’d lost him.”
“I don’t hold her responsible for Timmons’ actions.” His understanding smile eased her conscience. “And I don’t blame you.”
“Timmons had more than just a couple of years to plan this,” Vincent said. “He had at least a quarter of a century.”
Pulling away from Gerard, Amber straightened her shoulders and swiped at her tears. Detectives didn’t cry. She had her emotions firmly under control when she said, “Timmons had an account in the Cayman Islands. He siphoned funds from his black ops military project to that account and was arrested for misappropriation of government funds.”
“The military knew about the cloning,” Megan said. “When Timmons was arrested, he admitted the truth to the senator who headed the Senate Oversight Committee.”
There was no law against cloning in North Carolina—which was scary as hell considering the technological and biological researched performed at Research Triangle Park. But Timmons had been arrested in Virginia.
“Only fifteen states have laws against cloning. I think Virginia is one of them, but Timmons wasn’t charged with violating cloning laws, and the media discounted the earlier allegations as rumor.”
“The military didn’t want the public to know about the cloning,” Gerard said. “That’s why he was charged with misappropriation of funds. But Weldon got away and he needs Megan to continue the experiments. And Axle is his next project.”
A quiet gasp drew Amber’s attention. Megan’s hands covered her mouth. Her face paled. “He’s going to turn Axle and then test the vaccine. If the dosage is wrong, it could kill him.”
He might prefer being dead to being a vampire, Amber thought, her guilty gaze seeking Gerard’s. He knew what she was thinking. And he didn’t judge her for it. Gerard hated his immortal nature. It’s why he took the vaccine.
Tension knotted her shoulders. “It may be too late to save Axle, but I’m going to find Weldon.” She raked a hand through her hair. “There’s got to be more information on him in the case files—something the Asheville PD overlooked.” Then again, her colleagues hadn’t known to look for vampires.
“You can’t ask for Sheridan’s help,” Gerard said softly. “Or anyone else with the police department.”
“I know.” And that bothered her. Reid was her partner. She should have his back—share what she knew. But her partner would never believe the truth, and the un-subs were definitely not the usual suspects.
“Do you really think you can solve a supernatural case using normal police methods?” Megan asked.
“I’m damn sure going to try. As soon as Gerard takes me home.”
Megan sighed. “I can’t travel at vampire speed. But I’ll catch the first available flight or drive down, whichever gets me there quickest.”
“You’re not going,” Vincent snapped. “You’re staying here. Where it’s safe.”
She raised her chin. “I don’t think so, Vin.”
“Damn it, Megan. I can’t keep you safe if you keep putting yourself in danger.”
“You can’t keep me safe if you leave me here alone and unprotected.” She smiled coyly. “Besides, if you find Axle and he’s a vampire, you’ll need me. I may not be a medical doctor, but I’m the only doctor you know with vampire experience.”
Grumbling under his breath in some language Amber didn’t understand, he turned to Gerard. “I guess I’ll fly down with my wife. Don’t get yourself into any trouble, moj prijatelj. ”
Amber waited for nerves to twist her stomach into knots. Yet she remained relatively calm.
Had she used her medication as a crutch since coming back from Iraq? Were the headaches and anxiety a result of not accepting what her mind had been telling her for years? That she was a freak. A hybrid vampire freak.
Time to embrace my freaky side.