Thirteen
Nag, nag, nag. Ringo glared at Kelsey. “Whatta you want me to do? Turn myself in? Fuck that. They want me, they can come after me.”
He’d married her. He’d come back to Vegas, he had gotten them twenty-five grand. But it wasn’t enough for her. She wanted him to apologize to the tribunal for leaving? No chance in hell. Next she’d ask him to get her stupid secretary job back.
“But if you turn yourself in, they’ll be nicer.” She bit her fingernail and paced the floor.
They were staying at the Hilton, where Elvis had slept. It wasn’t glitz, but it was still pretty damn nice as far as he was concerned. Yet not one word of appreciation from her. All she could do was complain—about losing her job, about his dealings with Donatelli, about his chain smoking.
“Ain’t nobody going to be nice to me, babe. Get that through your ditzy head.” He lit another cigarette in defiance, even though there was still a haze lingering in the room from his last four.
The silly bitch yanked the smoke right out of his mouth. He was so shocked he didn’t even try to stop her. But as he watched her grind it out, his temper climbed. “Oh, you’re really pushing it now.”
“Listen to me.” She met his gaze unflinchingly and didn’t quail when he moved toward her. “You’re losing your grip. You need to back up, Ringo, and get control of yourself.”
It was so different from her usual quirky self-love talk, which went in all those circles he could never understand, he hesitated. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean you’re about to crack. You know it. I know it. You need to stop denying it and deal with what happened with Kyle.”
“What do you know about it? You don’t know anything. You know his name, and the rest of it is none of your damn business.” How dare she bring his brother into their shit? This wasn’t about how Kyle had died, this was about her turning into some kind of schoolteacher, lecturing him about right and wrong.
He needed some air. He headed for the door.
She stepped in front of him, spreading her legs apart in her tight jeans, hot pink T-shirt riding up. Nothing tough about her appearance, but her face looked pretty damn determined. “I’m going to ask Mr. Carrick for my job back.”
It was the one thing she could have said that would piss him off even further. “You don’t care how I feel, do you? You don’t give two shits about how it makes me feel to have my wife crawling on hands and knees back to that sanctimonious prick begging for a job. Like he ever kept you around for your secretarial skills. Please. You want your stupid bimbo job back so bad? Fine, I don’t give a shit. Do what you need to do.” He flicked his hair out of his eyes and moved around her. “Blow him for all I care. I’m sure you have before.”
“Ringo.”
“What?” He turned around, hand on the doorknob.
Her hand slammed across his cheek with impressive velocity, and his head snapped back, teeth sinking into his tongue. “What the fuck!” His face stung, eyes filling with water from the impact. For a stick, she packed some force.
“That’s for making me sound like a whore.”
“Whatever.” Blinking hard to clear his vision, he patted his pocket to make sure a good-size wad was there, and walked out the door.
He jumped on the Monorail and twenty minutes later he was knocking on Donatelli’s suite at the Venetian. Bastard was intriguingly predictable. He’d gone right back to his old room.
A bodyguard that Ringo had worked with back in his days on Donatelli’s security force opened the door. Ringo just nodded to him and strolled on past.
Donatelli was watching HGTV. A home makeover show. God, what a weirdo.
“Columbia. Can I help you?” Donatelli turned the volume down two notches and glanced at him impassively, leg crossed over his knee. “I don’t imagine you’re here to return the money you stole from my wallet.”
“How much for a pint?” His hand shook, so he stuck it in his pocket.
The man who had made him a vampire, and turned him into a heroin addict, smiled. “For you? I’ll give it to you for nothing. Consider it a wedding gift from me.”
Ringo should be humiliated by that self-satisfied smirk on the Italian’s face, but he was too thirsty to care. “Thanks.”
Donatelli stood. “Have a seat by the window. It’s a beautiful night.”
Ringo followed, hating himself for doing this, hating Kelsey for driving him to it, hating Donatelli for being so damn accommodating.
Their butts were barely in two chairs facing the skyscape when the bodyguard was there with two large goblets of blood, one clear glass, one an aquamarine color that turned the blood a deep, rich purple color. He was given that one, and Ringo leaned back, closed his eyes, smelled the tangy aroma before tipping the glass, letting it fill his mouth.
It was gone in two swallows. Ringo shuddered as it slid through him, fanning out over his eager, quivering body. He opened his eyes and stared at the Vegas night. All the lights glowed hot and white against the dark of the sky. The colors blended and shifted, fuzzing in and out, and he stared at it, mesmerized. Relaxing.
Everything was going to be okay. He was okay. Licking the rim of the glass, he said, “How about a double?”
“Sure. And then there’s something I’d like to discuss with you. A job.”
“A job?” Ringo blinked, his head feeling heavy. Donatelli must want him to kill someone. He was good at that. Never made a mess.
Kelsey would be mad at him. But he was his own man. He could do whatever he wanted. And at the moment, he’d literally kill for another drink. “I can do a job for you, no problem.”
Donatelli smiled. “Fill Mr. Columbia’s glass up again, Williams.”
Amen to that. Ringo held his goblet up.
Oh, wonderful. Her father was Donatelli, a psychotic political power monger who tortured, pushed drugs, and gave bad speeches. This was just the cherry on the sundae of her day.
“Are you sure?” Duh. Of course he was sure. She was sure, having seen the results on the screen herself. If Donatelli was RD1021, there was a 99.6 percent chance he was her father. Which meant he was. Damn it.
“Yes, I am sure.”
Good thing he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it for her. Brittany’s face felt hot, a coppery taste in her mouth. For a second she thought she was going to faint, but she remained standing, a sudden wet sensation under her nose distracting her as she wiped at it. “I’m bleeding!”
Corbin whipped his head around and jumped out of the chair, actually hitting her leg with it. “What happened?”
“Nothing, I don’t know.” She swiped again, more scarlet blood on her finger. “I have a nosebleed! I’ve never had a nosebleed before.”
He patted his boxer shorts, as if a hanky might appear, then did his vampire speed trick, returning in two seconds with a wet washcloth. “Pinch your nose slightly. It’s just the pregnancy. Increased blood flow. Nosebleeds are common in the second trimester.”
“How du you nowb?” she asked, words thick from squeezing her nose shut. Closing her eyes, she fought a rising panic. Her father was a loon. Her mother had slept with a nutcase. The man she was falling in love with wanted to marry her only to protect their child from evil vampire forces. And she was going to die from a nosebleed.
“I read one of those baby manuals. What to expect when you are birthing an enfant or something like that.”
Somehow she didn’t think any book was titled that, but it wasn’t the time to quibble. She let go of her nose and gave a test sniffle. It seemed to have stopped bleeding as quickly as it had started. “Does Donatelli know he’s my father?”
Corbin shook his head. “I doubt it. If he did, he would have raised the issue during the election. He would have approached you long before Carrick did.”
He went back to the computer and started clicking again, moving files.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m deleting this match. In fact, I’m deleting your DNA results altogether from my database. I do not want Donatelli or anyone else to know that he is your biological father.”
“Why not?” she asked, even as she knew the answer.
“He’ll want the baby, Brittany. He’ll want to raise the child, groom him for power. You are carrying his grandchild. He’ll see the possibilities and want to act on them.”
Damn it, that’s what she’d been hoping he wouldn’t say. “No, Corbin, no. No, no, no. We can’t let him do that.” The thought of that man with her child—influencing her, keeping her from a normal, nurturing life—made every cell in her body vibrate in protest. It made her want to dissolve into a full-fledged hysterical panic. But she couldn’t. She needed to act, and it seemed there was only one obvious solution. “Shit. I just need to leave, don’t I? I need to change my hair, my name, start over somewhere else. Hide from him. Never let anyone know.”
Corbin stopped clicking and deleting, and slowly rubbed his forehead. “Mon Dieu. Brittany.” He turned to her and his face was hard, eyes agonized, a rich cobalt blue. “Maybe that would be the smartest thing to do. At least temporarily. If anyone asked, Alexis can just say her sister had moved to California or something. And then you can go to Atlanta or Boston, somewhere far from California. Hell, maybe Europe or India and get lost in the crowd.”
Wet washcloth wrung between her hands, Brittany nodded. “I’ll have to tell Alexis and Ethan, but no one else.”
“I’ll destroy all evidence of the biological connection. I will move my other files, then destroy this hard drive. It will take me a few hours.”
“Can you stay awake?” She knew how hard it was for vampires to function during the day.
“I’ll have to.” He nodded. “It will be fine. Everything is fine. You go and pack and I’ll pick you up tonight. We can leave immediately.”
That stopped her. Her mind had been racing ahead, mentally picking a replacement for her dental practice until she could sell it, trying to decide where she’d want to live, what her name might be. How she would need Ethan’s help to establish a new identity for herself. An identity by herself.
It had never occurred to her to take Corbin with her.
While part of her wanted to fling herself into his arms and let him fix everything, her pride, her independence, and mostly, her maternal instinct told her Corbin couldn’t leave with her.
“I was planning to go alone.”
He stopped clicking on things long enough to stare at her, mouth wide open. “Alone? No, I am going with you. I will protect you. Watch over you and the babe at night when you cannot.”
Brittany made note there was no mention of love or devotion or how he couldn’t picture his life without her.
But regardless of that, even if he did love her, which he clearly didn’t, he still couldn’t go with her. It was dangerous, she sensed that. Felt it instinctively. “Corbin.”
“Yes? Explain this to me. I cannot let you go without me.”
“You have to. No one knows you are the baby’s father, remember? That is the key to our success. No one knows about the baby. Or if they do, they will assume the father is mortal. That was your plan all along, and it was a good one, even if you didn’t tell me. If I leave, alone, no one will think twice about Alexis’s half-mortal sister moving to another state. No one will bother to check to see if I went where I said I was going. No one will care. If you leave with me, everyone will want to know where you went. And they will start to put two and two together and wonder if we left together. If vampires start asking questions, they might find answers we don’t want them to. They might get suspicious. They might eventually find us.”
He shook his head. “But… I cannot just let you go off into the night by yourself. I cannot.”
“You have to.” She swallowed the massive lump in her throat. “I know you want to protect us, and this is the best way. The same reason you wanted to marry me before is the same reason you can’t marry me now.”
It was a solid minute before he answered her. She could see the agony on his face, but she knew by the set of his jaw he had made the right decision.
“You are right.” He shook his head. “I hate it. I despise the idea of letting you go without me, but you are right. Brittany, I am so sorry that I have brought this all upon you. It is all my fault.”
“Hey, I was there that night, too.” And while she was terrified, she wasn’t sure she’d undo anything. She was having a baby, the child of the man she loved. That was worth any sacrifice, any inconvenience. And she would battle the devil himself to protect her baby. “Recriminations are a waste of time. I admit, I’m very angry that you didn’t disclose the danger of the situation to me, and it’s possible I’ll have a hard time getting past that, but it has nothing to do with my rationale here. We both know this is what we have to do. And I promise to let you visit if it’s safe, and I’ll send you updates and contact info through Ethan and Alex.”
At that, he stood up, and she realized that her words of reassurance had just undone her previous logic. In two seconds, he was on top of her, expression fierce and passionate, pulling her tight against him.
“There has to be another way, damn it.”
Brittany closed her eyes and let her face rest against his chest. “You know there isn’t another way.” She wrapped her arms around his middle and breathed deep. Touching him calmed her, and she savored the moment, knowing this might be the last time she was this close to him. “We have to think about the baby. That has to be our priority.”
Hands in her hair, he said, “Just promise me… ” His voice cracked. “Promise you will tell our child who her father is when the time is right. Explain that I would have been there for her if I could have.”
Brittany felt the tears rise all over again at the pain she heard in those words. Pulling back, she blinked hard. “Hey. Don’t worry about that. You are the father and our child will know all about you. I promise you that.”
“Merci. I appreciate that.” He stared at her, eyes wandering over her face, hands on her cheeks. “I love you.”
She hadn’t expected him to say that. It shattered her composure. “Don’t… ” If he was exaggerating to make her feel better, it wasn’t working. If he was sincere, then it only made her feel worse. It was better to leave it unsaid, to not know what they were giving up.
“Yes. I must say it.” He brushed his lips over her forehead. “Know that even if there were no baby, I would love you. And I would marry you just for being you, if I could.”
“Corbin.” She was sobbing now. She felt relief, glee, that he felt what she did, felt the pressure of her hurt dissipating, yet it only made her regret, her pain, her understanding of her future loneliness increase tenfold. It would be impossible to move on, to forget him, knowing he loved her in return. “I love you, too.”
The kiss he gave her was passionate, but tender. She opened her mouth for him, almost cried at the sweetness of his tongue sliding across hers. It was a good-bye kiss and they both knew it.
Brittany couldn’t stand it. If he kept touching her, she wasn’t going to be able to leave. Breaking the kiss, she pulled away and wiped her cheeks. “I should go.”
“Go to Ethan. He’ll help you make arrangements. Do what you need to. I’ll finish this up then I’ll come over. Do not leave until I get there.”
“Okay.” Brittany suddenly realized she had no car. “I didn’t drive here. You picked me up.”
“You can take my car. I’ll find a way there tonight. The keys are on the kitchen counter.” He gave her hand a last squeeze. “I’ll see you tonight. I’ll be there before midnight, all right?”
She nodded, and went to get dressed. By the time she was dressed and flipping him a good-bye wave, he was back at the computer, popping CDs in and out of the drive, working on all three computers at once. It amazed her he was that technically savvy. He always struck her as resistant to modern amenities.
And she wasn’t sure if she was glad he had the capability to decipher who her father was or not. Walking down the hall and out the front door of the apartment building, she knew she’d certainly been blissfully ignorant not knowing her biological origins. On the other hand, now that she knew Donatelli was her father, she was better prepared to protect her child.
The morning was hazy and chilly. Crossing her arms and rubbing, she tried to remember where Corbin had parked his BMW the night before. All the rows looked the same, many of the sedans a similar black or blue.
She didn’t see the man until he was standing in front of her. Then she jumped and gave a little shriek of surprise. Corbin had said this wasn’t the best of neighborhoods, but her thoughts of muggers died when she realized it was Ringo. His hair was longer, and his eyes bloodshot, his hand twitching in a disturbing tick.
Instinctively, she knew he wasn’t there for a social call on Corbin. Turning around, she started to move back to the building.
“What’s your hurry?” he asked, blocking her path.
Oh, God. Brittany couldn’t believe this was happening. Maybe Ringo just needed money. He looked high as a kite. A skinny, creepy, dangerous kite.
“I just realized I forgot my cell phone.” It was a total lie but she wanted to feel out his intention before she panicked. Maybe she could just give him what he wanted. Maybe it had nothing to do with the baby.
“That’s a shame. But you weren’t going to be able to call for help anyway.”
Ringo grabbed her arm before she even saw him move. “What do you want?” she asked, trying to yank out of his hold. He was too strong. She couldn’t even make his arm move with her violent attempts to jerk herself away.
“I want money.”
“Oh.” She sighed in relief. “I have a hundred in my purse, and if you go upstairs, Corbin can give you some, I’m sure.”
But he shook his head slowly, a small laugh rolling out of his mouth. “No, that’s not what I mean. I need money, so I’m doing a job. You’re the job, sweetheart.”
Okay, no use holding back on the panic. It was there, full force, and it propelled her into action. Brittany kicked him in the shin and opened her mouth to scream.
Ringo slapped his hand over her mouth, his vampire strength so intense Brittany felt her lips start to bleed from being ground against her teeth. “Be nice. I’m not going to kill you. I just have to take you to someone who wants to talk to you. Now will you be good? Keep your fucking mouth shut?”
She nodded her head, sucking in air when he let go of her. “Where’s Kelsey?” she asked, as he dragged her across the parking lot.
It didn’t make any sense, but in her head she kept thinking if Kelsey was okay, then somehow she would be okay, too. If he could care about a woman, he could care about her unborn child.
But his face darkened. “We had a bit of an argument.”
Wonderful.
“Which car is yours?” Ringo demanded, ripping the keys from her hand.
“The blue BMW.” Brittany tried not to cry. Now Corbin wouldn’t even notice she was missing with his car gone. In her head she called to Corbin, hoping like hell their mind-connection still had some kind of power.
Otherwise, she was screwed.
Fourteen
“What do you mean, she called off work today?” Alexis asked the receptionist at Bright Smiles. It was six o’clock, Alexis had just gotten up for the night, and Brittany should be doing her end-of-the-day bullcrap in her dental office.
“I mean, she called off work today,” the receptionist repeated dryly. “I guess she’s sick.”
“Thanks.” Alexis hung up and dialed Brittany’s house. No answer. She tried her cell. Nothing. She frowned. “Ethan!”
“What?” her husband answered, voice still sleepy.
“Do you have Corbin’s phone number or address?”
“In the address book on my computer.”
Two minutes later she impatiently waited for Corbin to pick up the phone.
“Allo?” he said.
“Where’s Brittany?”
There was a pause. “Alexis? Brittany should be at your apartment by now. Have you called her cell phone?”
“She’s not answering. Why didn’t she go to work today?”
“You mean you haven’t spoken to her at all? There was no message from her?”
“No.” Alexis started to feel annoyance and a nagging little worry morph into serious fear. “Was she supposed to call me? What’s going on?”
“Brittany was planning to ask for some assistance. That is all I wish to say at the moment.”
Every time she thought she might actually learn to like him, he had to go and piss her off. “Ethan and I need to talk to you and Brittany. Get your French ass over here.”
“I will be there in a few hours. I have an issue or two to resolve here first. Brittany and I intend to meet at your apartment around eleven.”
That wasn’t good enough. “Gwenna is here.”
“Gwenna Carrick?” Corbin sounded surprised. “Why?”
“She has something she needs to share with you and Brittany.”
“Perhaps I can get there sooner.”
She thought so. “Good idea.” Even though she meant to play it cool, she couldn’t help voicing her suspicion. “Are you two planning to elope?”
There was a pause. “No. That is not what we are planning.”
The words should have been reassuring, but instead they scared the crap out of her.
Brittany had spent her whole life in Las Vegas, and had frequented her fair share of casinos and bars in her teens and early twenties. But she had never been inside a suite at the Bellagio.
She would have been impressed with the luxury and the amazing dйcor if she hadn’t been tied to a chair and scared out of her everlovin’ mortal mind.
There were two guards posted on either side of the door. A woman lounged on a divan reading a book, her long legs crossed at the ankle, her expression bored and disinterested. And three men staring at Brittany, each in a club chair that matched hers. One was Ringo, and he looked half-asleep, a glass of blood in his hand that he continually sipped from. She briefly wondered if a vampire could overdose on drugs, because he looked perilously close to a coma. One of the other two was Donatelli. Her father. He gave her encouraging smiles, alternated with inquiries into how they might make her stay more comfortable. Would she care for a pillow? A drink? A bite to eat? It was irritating to listen to him being so civil, when she was strapped down like cumbersome luggage on a car top. But the annoyance she felt at Donatelli was nothing compared to the fear she felt when she looked at the third man. He was huge, with a thick beard, broad shoulders, and fat, hairy hands. His appearance wasn’t the only reason he terrified her. She wasn’t real thrilled with the sick smile on his face. He was enjoying her fear. And his eyes were dead, empty. Insane. He didn’t speak, so she tried not to look at him. She concentrated her attention on Donatelli, who was doing all the talking.
It appalled her to look Donatelli in the face and admit to herself that he was her father. That he had oozed oily charm and suckered her mother into bed, and she was the result of that illustrious encounter. What was worse, though, was the realization that he knew she was pregnant. There was no hiding it. And it was clearly the reason she’d been brought there, because Donatelli’s overly casual questions all focused on the baby and Corbin.
“So when are you due?” he asked, crossing his leg.
She didn’t answer.
“Come now, no need to demur. I can see that you are at least four or five months along. April? That is a pleasant month to give birth. Lots of walks in the spring sunshine. Good for you and the baby.”
Moving her head to flip her hair out of her eyes, she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t know what he wanted or why, and she didn’t want to give him whatever information he must be seeking.
“And Atelier will be there when you give birth? That is so charming.”
It wasn’t hard to stay quiet. She had no interest in making chitchat with him.
What she wasn’t prepared for was the big, boorish man to suddenly stand up and smack her cheek with the back of his hand. He moved so fast she couldn’t even try to shield the blow, and it stung like hell, ripping tears out of her eyes and an involuntary gasp from her mouth.
“Show some respect and answer.”
Brittany flinched, but he only returned to his seat. The woman on the couch gave a casual glance up before turning the page of her book.
“I’m due in April,” Brittany said quickly when he made like he was going to stand up again, hand raised. She was actually due in May, but Donatelli had guessed April, and it felt safer to lie.
Donatelli sat forward, elbows on his knees, a frown on his face. “Really, Gregor, that was not necessary.”
“She gave you an answer, did she not?” Gregor’s accent was thick. Russian.
“I’m sure she’s willing to be reasonable, aren’t you, Brittany?” Donatelli asked, giving her a charming smile.
“I can be reasonable.” In her head, she screamed for Ethan, hoping he would hear her cry for help. She was afraid to call for Corbin, fearful of what would happen if he showed up and the men in front of her forced Corbin to hand over his research. Besides, her mental connection with Corbin had been silent since their second separation, after she had told Corbin about the baby. She didn’t understand why, but they could only hear each other during sex.
Alexis had never been able to hear Brittany’s thoughts, but Ethan could. Once he’d even heard her cry out from an amazing orgasm the first time she’d been with Corbin, and Ethan had been miles away from them, which had been really damn embarrassing. But surely he would hear her fear now if he had been able to hear her pleasure then.
“We know Atelier is the father of your baby. What we need to know is what he plans to do with your child.”
“Nothing.”
“So he has told you nothing about his plans?”
She shook her head, confused. What did they think Corbin was going to do with her baby?
“Alright, that’s fine. Perhaps he hasn’t been forthcoming with you. You are a surrogate. No need for him to share everything with you.”
Brittany frowned. A surrogate? Why would they think that? She glanced at Ringo, who had heard her telling Corbin he was the father of her child. He knew she wasn’t a surrogate. Why would he lie to Donatelli? But he clearly had, and his face revealed nothing. His eyes were hard, glassy, going in and out of focus.
“I’ve done everything I was supposed to,” she said carefully. “I’ve taken vitamins, I’ve been to the doctor, I’ve gone to childbirth classes. What do you want?” It wasn’t hard to put a tremor into her voice. Her fear was legit.
“Why did you do it? Having a baby isn’t the easiest way to earn a dollar.” Donatelli asked, “Did you really need the money that badly? Is your dental practice failing?”
Brittany was a good liar. Much better than Alexis, who was incapable of hiding her feelings. “I… I… got into some gambling debt.” She glanced at her lap, as if she were ashamed. “I owe fifty grand, and I didn’t want my sister and her husband to know. Atelier offered me a hundred to have his baby.”
Donatelli whistled. “Gambling. So like a woman to be weak. What is your game?”
It had been years since she’d played, but she said, “Blackjack.” She knew the rules to that, could answer questions about it.
“We’ll give you a hundred and twenty-five thousand if you give the baby to us.”
The shocked gasp she gave wasn’t faked either. “But it’s his sperm. His kid.”
Gregor stood up and came at her. Brittany tried to shrink back, but his thick hand grabbed a handful of hair on the top of her head and yanked her back so she was staring straight up at him, the pain making her wince. “Maybe I’ll just bury my own sperm in you. What do you think of that?”
She thought she was going to be sick. Her stomach roiled and she was sure she was going to vomit right into his salt-and-pepper beard. It wasn’t hard to believe him. He looked like he could rape her and enjoy it.
There was a torrent of Russian from the woman on the couch. Gregor broke eye contact with Brittany and turned around. She breathed deeply, trying to calm her stomach down, clamp down on her terror, hold on to her nerve.
“Your wife doesn’t seem pleased with that idea,” Donatelli said in amusement.
“My wife does not speak English. But she is still a jealous little minx.” He let go of Brittany’s hair with a jerk and moved toward the woman. “Sasha.”
But the woman was up off the couch, flouncing away, her hair bouncing down her back, her little backside swaying. Her chin was tilted indignantly. Brittany wanted to throw something at her. Like a boulder. Or a grand piano. How could she just sit there and let her husband tie up a pregnant woman? Of course, she had to be a heartless bitch to be married to a beast like Gregor.
“That is why I’ll never get married again,” Donatelli commented as Gregor followed Sasha out of the room. He crossed one leg over the opposite knee. “Now are you agreeable to our terms?”
“What do you want the baby for?” With Gregor gone, she felt emboldened. Donatelli didn’t seem nearly as threatening.
“Sasha has always yearned for a child.”
That woman wasn’t raising her baby. No way, Russian Josй. “What do you have to do with all of this?”
“I’m the middleman. The negotiator. As you can see, Gregor has poor social skills.”
“The answer is no.”
He grimaced. “That is the wrong answer. I will continue to ask the question until you give the right answer.”
“No. I may not have intended to keep this baby, but it is still a baby. It belongs with its father.”
Donatelli sighed. “All these goddamn ethics are so exhausting. I’m trying to be reasonable. Spare you the rod.”
A high-pitched moan floated out from the next room. Brittany couldn’t prevent a grimace. She so did not need to hear that at the moment. It was Sasha, giving an exuberant cry of pleasure, which was seriously gross, considering that her husband was just about Satan with facial hair.
Yet Ringo actually stirred and glanced toward the door, naked longing on his face, and a good-sized tent in his pants. Blech. She didn’t need to see that any more than she wanted to hear Sasha and Gregor getting it on.
Which was getting more disgusting by the minute, a nice rhythm building to the groans and yelps. Sasha did the Russian version of an “oh, oh, yes, oh, oh, aahh,” over and over. And over and over. You know, if Brittany wasn’t mistaken, there was actually some faking going on there. Having pulled that a time or two in her life, she recognized the signs. Sasha’s voice was too even, too rhythmic, too poised. Gregor was silent, which made her wonder where his tongue was, which made her stomach flip again.
At least Donatelli seemed unnerved and uninterested. But he also held his hand out to her. “Sleep, Brittany.”
She tried to resist, tried to close her mind to him, but she felt herself falling under, into darkness.
“If she is not here, where is she?” Corbin asked, staring at Alexis, who was wringing her hands together.
“I don’t freaking know! That’s what I’m telling you,” Alexis shouted at him. “No one has seen her all day. She’s not answering her cell phone and she’s not at home. I went over there. Her car is in the driveway, but she’s not there.”
“Did it look like she’d been packing?” he asked. Brittany was probably just en route to Alexis’s and had stopped at the grocery store or the bank. Though he found it odd that she had not called Alexis. She knew she needed Ethan’s assistance to get new identification.
“Packing? No, not at all. It looked like she hadn’t been there all day, and her bed was made.”
“That is because she spent last night with me.” Corbin set down the bag of maternity clothes he had brought over. She had forgotten them in his apartment. “She took my car to drive home. It was gone from the parking lot, so I know she left. Where are Ethan and Gwenna?”
“Gwenna hasn’t gotten up yet. She sleeps late. And Ethan went to talk to his security team, to see if they can figure out how to track Brittany down. I just know something is wrong.”
So did he. Corbin felt cold, stark terror slide over him. Brittany should have been there. Or she would have called. Unless she had chosen to disappear on her own. But no, she wouldn’t do that without saying good-bye to her sister.
“Alexis, Brittany and I were planning on her leaving tonight. She was supposed to go home, pack what she needed, withdraw all her available funds, and come here. She was supposed to ask Ethan to establish a new identity for her so she could leave tonight and start a new life under an assumed name.”
“What! Why?”
Corbin grimaced. The truth still appalled him. “Because my DNA search on Italian men resulted in a match. Brittany’s father is Donatelli.”
“Jesus Christ!” Alexis went pale. “Corbin, the reason we wanted to talk to you is because Gwenna came here to warn us that Donatelli is back in Vegas. And he knows about the baby. We think Ringo told him.”
Corbin went very, very still. He tried to squelch the anger, the fear, the self-recrimination, so he could think rationally. “Then it is very possible that Donatelli has Brittany right now, no?”
Alexis nodded, than took off for the bedroom. “I’m going to wake Gwenna. She can read Donatelli’s thoughts.”
It would be an interesting move, for Donatelli to take Brittany. He obviously could not know he was her father. And if his other information was accurate, he would know that the baby wasn’t due for months. So why would he take her? It struck Corbin as bold and aggressive, not adjectives he’d normally associate with Donatelli.
Alexis came back into the room with Gwenna, who was a pale wisp of a woman, shadows under her blue eyes, silvery blond hair uncombed. “She’s with him. I can hear quite clearly his curiosity, his impatience. Something is bothering him. He’s worried someone else is being too rough with her and he is debating how much he can interfere.”
“Mon Dieu.” If Donatelli thought someone else was being rough, Brittany was in serious trouble. “Who is with them?”
“I don’t know.” Gwenna shook her head. “I’m sorry. And I don’t know where they are either.”
“Do you think he would go back to the Venetian?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s worth a try,” Alexis said, her mouth closed tightly, lips a pale white line.
Corbin was about to ask for a weapon when the front door opened and Ethan came in with Seamus Fox and Kelsey, the errant secretary.
She was crying, her blood tears streaming down her pale face. She came right over to him. “Ringo’s using drugs again, I know it. He went to Donatelli.”
“I’m sorry,” Corbin said automatically, patting her back when she launched herself into his arms. He looked over her shoulder for help, no clue what to do with her. The others were in a serious discussion, heads bent.
A thought occurred to him and he pulled back to look at Kelsey. “Where is Donatelli? Do you know?”
Kelsey gave a sniffle and wiped at her tears. “I think he’s at the Bellagio. With the Russian guy. That’s where Ringo picked up his payment.”
“The Russian guy? Chechikov?” Corbin was stunned. The man he had given access to all his research, including the potential for cloning, was working with Donatelli?
“Yes, that was his name.” Kelsey nodded, her lip curling up. “And his mortal wife, who looks like a slut if I ever saw one. A supermodel slut.”
“His wife?” Corbin turned to Ethan and Seamus. “Did you know Chechikov is in town?”
“Unfortunately, yes. He’s here to run for president. Though I had no idea he was hiding a mortal wife up his sleeve, the tricky bastard.”
“President?” Corbin ran his fingers through his hair, unable to comprehend how idiotic he had been. “That wife is the least of our worries. If he is with Donatelli, then they have Brittany. It is Gregor that Donatelli worries will hurt Brittany.” Corbin clenched his fists. “You know his reputation. He would not hesitate to hurt her. And I am very sorry to say that it is Chechikov who has been funding my research all these years. I give him biannual reports on my progress. With the right research team, he has the framework in place to reconstruct my antidote, at least to a point. Without my latest series of controls, though, it will take years. Unless he steals my most recent data.”
His head was pounding. He just couldn’t let that research fall into the wrong hands. Chechikov had played him for a fool. He intended to take the research, take the office of the presidency, and clone vampires. So he would have total control. Corbin was not about to let that happen, nor was he going to let any harm befall Brittany or his child.
“I need to go find Brittany. Can someone go to my lab in my apartment and start destroying my files? I cannot let Chechikov or Donatelli find my research.”
“I don’t have the technical skills for that,” Ethan said. “But I’ll go with you to find Brittany.”
“I can destroy files,” Seamus offered, stepping forward. “Just tell me what you want saved.”
“Put everything on a ThumbDrive. There is one sitting on the desk. Then destroy everything on all three computers. Obliterate it. So no one can retrieve anything. Put all the paper files through the shredder.” It was painful to say that, but he knew it was necessary. He had created the means to do the very opposite of what he had intended. It was his responsibility to destroy it.
He wanted the ThumbDrive, though. The files would give him the ability to re-create his vaccine. Giving up that choice he had created, the chance to be mortal again, wasn’t an option he was comfortable with. Not yet, not when he knew he had the cure. And he might need the genetic database with regard to their child.
“Just give me your apartment keys and I’m on the way,” Seamus said, hand held out. “Kelsey, I’ll drop you off at your place in case Ringo comes home.”
Corbin gave him the keys. “Merci. Now I am going to get the mother of my child and I will kill anyone who has harmed her. Does anyone have a sword I can borrow?”
“I do,” Alexis said.
Why didn’t that surprise him?
“Oh, Christ,” Ethan replied. “You had to ask her that?”
“I’ll take it.” Corbin was skilled with a sword thanks to boarding school. He would relish sticking someone today, given his current mood.
Brittany had been in the chair for twelve hours. She knew because there was a platinum clock on the wall opposite her that showed how excruciatingly long she had been held captive. It had been an hour since she had woken up from Donatelli’s little mind sleep, and while they had let her use the bathroom, Gregor had also smacked her twice, shaken her, and, most recently, bitten her wrist and snacked on her blood.
He was trying to terrify her and it was working. She was pee-her-pants afraid, though at least her bladder was empty. Calling for help in her head didn’t seem to be effective, because no one was answering, and given that a guard had actually stood in the doorway of the bathroom while she had used it, she didn’t see how she could possibly escape. At this point, she figured Gregor could rape her, maim her, whatever, and she would live. But she was scared that somehow in his psycho mind games he was going to inadvertently hurt the baby. She could tolerate anything done to her, but she was going to go ballistic if anything happened to her child.
It was past 8 p.m., so she suspected that while she had been in a forced slumber, the vampires had been daysleeping as well. Now they were up for the night and she very possibly had hours before Corbin realized she wasn’t going to show up at her sister’s. God only knew what Gregor might decide to do to her in the interim. He was definitely enjoying her discomfort.
Sasha at least had disappeared. Ringo had stepped out for a cigarette. And Donatelli looked distinctly unhappy.
He shifted in his seat, tugging at his suit jacket. “Enough of that, Chechikov. Leave her be.”
But the Russian only laughed, wiping her blood off his lips and licking his fingers one by one. “I am just playing with her.”
The two men stared at each other, and after a minute, Brittany realized they were speaking to each other in their heads. She moved her thighs restlessly, making the leather on the chair squeak. She was thirsty, hungry, and getting a cramp in her leg. The baby was fluttering around in her belly in what felt like frantic somersaults, scaring her more than she already was, which she wouldn’t have thought possible.
There was no obvious escape from the situation, yet she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Donatelli was the more rational of the two, the one who might be sympathetic, or at the least, unwilling to risk destroying his future prize. He wanted her child, and he wanted to keep her alive, which was different from his psycho pal. It had occurred to her that Gregor didn’t need or want her alive. He wanted her baby and he had no interest in waiting for her to give birth. It wasn’t a live child he wanted—it was her child’s DNA. The genetic sequence, nothing more. He would treat her baby like a blood sample. Extract, use, discard.
That would have to be over her dead body. And while she was just a free-spirited suburban dentist who happened to get knocked up by a controversial vampire research scientist, she had no intention of bursting into tears and giving up. Something had happened to her since that day in her doctor’s office, since her OB had said she was pregnant. She had morphed from happy-go-lucky to warrior woman. She’d protect her child with every last breath in her.
What she needed to do was play it smart. If Donatelli was feeling uncomfortable with Gregor’s cruel behavior, she figured he would be downright furious if he knew the truth about her genetics.
And as luck would have it, Gregor and Donatelli appeared to be arguing. Gregor threw his hand up and gave a loud “Bah!”
Turning around, he slapped her again without warning, causing her to bite her tongue. Brittany winced, blinking hard against the pain, biting her lip to prevent a cry from slipping out. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. But Gregor didn’t stick around to watch her suffer. He went out the door, slamming it behind him, making the walls shake precariously.
Donatelli shook his head in disgust before giving her a shrug. “Listen to me. Accept the money, Brittany. It is really your only choice. The money or death. Either way he’ll have what he wants.”
She ignored that. “Did you live in Las Vegas twenty-seven years ago?” she asked, swallowing hard, her mouth dry except for the blood from where her teeth had lacerated her tongue.
“What? I don’t remember. I might have. I spent a few years in the seventies and eighties here. Why? Didn’t you hear what I just said?” He frowned at her, hands on the knees of his black pants.
She didn’t see herself in his features at all, except arguably her dark hair. It was odd to gaze into his face and try to find her own, but she saw nothing that proclaimed he was her father. Yet he was. “My mother knew you. She was a dancer at the Kareless Kitten Klub.”
Donatelli smiled. “The Kitten? No kidding. I actually remember that club rather fondly. I spent many a night there.”
“My mother’s name was Gina Shoemaker. But chances are she went by Gina Baldizzi, which was her maiden name. She was very tall, with long legs, and jet-black hair.” Brittany glanced toward the door, wanting to make sure Gregor wasn’t returning.
Donatelli looked annoyed. “So?”
“So you slept with her.”
His eyebrow went up. “Did I? And she shared this with you? That’s a curious mother-daughter conversation.”
“Oh, she didn’t tell me. Corbin did.”
“What the hell does Atelier know about it?”
Brittany leaned closer, straining her hands in the painful rope ties. She whispered, terrified someone would hear her. “You know that I’m an Impure, don’t you? That’s what makes my baby so special to all of you.”
Donatelli stared hard at her. “So you know what we want.”
“Yes, I do. But before you let Gregor take what he wants, let me tell you that this child, this three-quarter vampire, is your grandchild. You had sex with my mother, Gina Baldizzi, and you are the reason I have vampire blood. You’re my father.”
He sat up straight, his head shaking. “What? You are lying to me. That is… ”
“Impossible? Why? How many vampires were hanging around the Kitten in the same time period?” And how many clubs could have been named something as ridiculous as the Kitten?
“My mother may have been a good-time girl, but I don’t think she was doing half the Vampire Nation. You were probably the only vampire she ever slept with.” Keeping her voice steady, she drove her point home. “Besides, Corbin ran a DNA test on me, and you, Roberto Donatelli, were the match. You are my father.”
Her heart was pounding viciously as she waited for his reaction. He looked appropriately stunned and suspicious, but she could also see that he was considering believing her.
“Perhaps I remember your mother. Perhaps we had sex once or twice or twelve times. Perhaps I am your father. Why are you telling me?”
“Don’t play stupid with me. I’m telling you now because I’m tied to a chair and I know that your Russian friend wouldn’t hesitate to kill me or my baby. So I’m telling you if he does that, he will be killing your daughter. Your grandchild. Your future.”
He studied her, for so long that she started to lose hope. It was a risk, telling him the truth, but it was her only opportunity for escape unless Corbin or Ethan came for her. But finally he nodded. “You could be my daughter. You are smart enough. And I would be a fool to risk anything happening to you, at least until I can verify the DNA myself.”
Wow, that was heartwarming. But no more than she had expected, and she was pleased he could see the logic in protecting her.
“And I do remember your mother, actually, because I wasn’t normally fond of brunettes. But her legs were amazing and she was willing to try anything… a wonderful combination of attributes.” He stood up and moved toward her. “Though I imagine you’d rather not hear about that.”
“I could do without it, thanks.” But in a weird way, she was grateful he remembered her, that she wasn’t just a nameless number in a long string of women he had seduced.
Donatelli leaned over, stared at her face, searching. “You do look like her. Yet you seem stronger, more stable.” He started to untie her hand bonds. “How is your mother these days?”
“She died fifteen years ago. A drug overdose.” Brittany tried not to recoil as his chest brushed near her face, the rustle of his suit and crisp dress shirt ringing in her ears. He smelled like a deep rich cologne and her stomach turned again. He didn’t seem the least bit put out or distressed that he had a daughter he’d known nothing about.
“I am sorry to hear that. Who raised you then?” he asked, tone mildly curious, conversational.
“My sister, Alexis.”
“Ah, yes.” He got one hand free, and lightly massaged her wrist where the rope had burned her flesh. “Carrick’s wife. No wonder she is such a fierce defender. Forced into adulthood too soon. It is a shame your mother never mentioned you to me.”
Somehow Brittany couldn’t bring herself to regret that.
“I could have provided for you in some fashion or another. As far as I am aware, you are my only child. I find the concept fascinating. I would have liked a hand in influencing your upbringing.”
She just bet he would have. Boarding school for political power mongers’ offspring maybe. She could have chummed around with daughters of dictators.
Undoing the other bond, he pulled back, and Brittany stared up at him. “I don’t care about the past. All I care about is the future of my child.” She didn’t want to beg, so she locked her chin up, narrowed her eyes. “Protect me and your grandchild.”
“Oh, I will.” His voice was still casual, unconcerned, but she heard the determination in his voice, saw the conviction in his dark black eyes. “I have no intention of letting Gregor harm you.”
Relief made her sag her shoulders a little, suck in a deep breath.
“Now stand up. I’m going to get you out of the building before the lunatic gets back.”
Brittany stood, her knees and hips groaning with stiffness. Donatelli startled her by quickly retying her wrists in front of her. “In case we happen upon our friend.” He stripped off his jacket and draped it over her bonded hands. “And in case we happen upon any mortals.”
The fabric felt warm on her skin, and she realized she was cold, and exhausted. She wanted to do what she had always done, shrug her shoulders and assume everything would be alright, that Alexis or someone else would take care of it for her. But for the first time in her life, she realized that, ultimately, she was the one who had to take care of herself, and that for her child, she was the “it” person. The one who had to fix everything. She couldn’t trust Donatelli. He was a means to an end, nothing more.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“I want you to promise me you’ll tell Corbin where I am.”
He sighed. “Fine. Now do you want to stay here or not?”
“No.” She followed him out the door. The danger ahead seemed much less threatening than staying and hanging with the slap-happy Russian.