Fifteen
“He’s moving her,” Gwenna said suddenly from the backseat of the car. “He’s debating where to take her.”
Corbin was already regretting that he had decided to drive. The traffic was typical for Vegas at night. He was crawling at about twenty miles an hour and he had only a miserable two miles to travel.
“I’m getting out,” he said. He could have been there already if he’d run. Throwing the car into park, he started to open his door.
“I’m coming with you,” Carrick said. “But you should leave the sword. Just take a knife instead.” He flashed Corbin a wicked-looking hunting knife with a jagged blade.
“You carry the knife. I will take the sword. Nothing wrong with extra protection.” Besides, it was December and he had thrown on a winter coat. There was no difficulty in concealing the sword. And he preferred its steel smoothness, its light, skillful drama. It was a classic weapon, whereas that knife was brutal, rough, inelegant.
“How about no one takes any weapons?” Gwenna asked as she jumped out of the backseat right after Alexis did. “Can’t we just discuss this rationally with Roberto? Let me talk to him.”
“No! You’re not to say one word to him,” Ethan said, pointing his finger at her.
Corbin did not have time to argue with either of them. He abandoned his car, earning lots of honks and finger gestures from other drivers, and took off running down the Strip, dodging groups of giggling women in their twenties, drunken couples leaning on each other and exchanging sloppy kisses, and men attempting to hand him flyers to bawdy shows.
He had done everything wrong. Everything. He had kept himself too isolated, he had forgotten to pay attention to the movements of those in power, had allowed himself to be self-absorbed and ignorant of the climate of the Nation. Now it was Brittany who was paying for his distraction. Brittany and his child.
Brittany? he called, feeling a sense of desperation. The Bellagio was a massive building with thousands of rooms and he had no idea how to find her.
There was no response, but suddenly Ethan was running alongside him. “I can hear her, Atelier. She sounds scared, but calm, and she answered me. He’s taking her onto the roof.”
“Why is she answering you but not me?” Corbin was stupidly devastated. It was an emotion totally inappropriate for the situation, and while he was grateful they knew where Brittany was headed, he wanted to be the one she called for, needed. Not her brother-in-law.
They jogged past the Bellagio’s fountain, going off in its elaborate water display to the strains of Sinatra. “I don’t know. Who cares?”
He shouldn’t care, but he did. “You are right. That is good. We can find her easily on the roof.”
Glancing behind him, he saw Alexis was right behind them, not even breaking a sweat, but Gwenna was nowhere to be found. “Where is your sister?”
Ethan swore. “Christ, I don’t know. Let’s hope she just couldn’t keep up.”
They were on the elevator in five minutes.
“Get off on the floor beneath the penthouse suites,” Ethan told him. “We’ll walk up the stairs from there.”
When they reached the last turn of stairs before the rooftop, an EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY sign glaring at them, Corbin sensed vampire, knew Brittany and Donatelli had to be right ahead of him. Cautiously, he cracked the door open and saw Brittany with her hands tied in front of her, shorter hair sticking straight out in the wind, her stretchy top clinging to her swollen belly.
Closing his eyes for two seconds, he fought the fury, the guilt, the agony of wanting this to end positively. Then he shoved open the door and said coldly, “Move away from my woman, Donatelli.”
Brittany turned and her face reflected relief. “Corbin.”
Donatelli showed no surprise, his stance leisurely, unconcerned. “For once we are on the same side, Atelier. But there is no time to discuss this. We need to get her out of here.”
Brittany was shivering, her teeth chattering, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and comfort her. He settled for extracting the sword, removing his overcoat, and draping it over her shoulders. “Everything is fine, ma chйrie ,” he whispered to her, easing her back away from Donatelli, who made no move to stop him.
Her big, black eyes stared at him over her shoulder. I love you , she said, her lips moving silently, as if she wanted to tell him quickly, privately, in case she never had another chance.
That nearly undid him. But he looked away from her, not wanting to let Donatelli out of his view. The Italian looked bemused.
“Now I understand,” he said. “There is no debt, is there, Brittany? You are not a surrogate. You and the Frenchman are lovers. Very, very clever of you.” He smiled at her. “I am impressed. I did notice his scent on you, but I thought it was because you are carrying his child.”
Corbin really wasn’t sure what in hell Donatelli was talking about and he didn’t really care. He just wanted Brittany home, safe, with him. “Whatever you are planning, Donatelli, it ends here. She is leaving with me, and you will have no further contact with her.”
“Actually, she’s leaving with me,” Chechikov said from the doorway, Gwenna held tightly against him, her head squeezed under his armpit.
Donatelli lost his cool insouciance. “Gwenna! Damn it, Gregor, let her go.”
“You betrayed me,” Gregor returned. “You were taking the girl off for yourself. That makes me very angry. Return her to me, and I’ll return this one to you.”
Donatelli’s fists clenched, and there was suddenly sweat on his forehead. He glanced at Gwenna. Corbin held his breath, holding his sword loosely, ready to strike if Donatelli turned over Brittany. But Donatelli just shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
“Then I’ll kill Gwenna.” Gregor held his own sword in his free hand and he raised it menacingly.
“No!” Donatelli moved toward them, as did Carrick, but Gwenna startled them all by grabbing the sword and yanking it to her neck.
“Don’t bargain for me, Roberto. It’s not worth it. I have no issue with dying. In fact, I’ve wished for a very long time that I were dead.” She tried to look up at Gregor, tried to force the blade closer to her flesh. “Go on, kill me. I welcome it.”
The tension emanating from everyone was palpable. Corbin was impressed with Gwenna’s courage, but also alarmed at the look in her eye. She looked serious. Gregor seemed to understand that as well.
When she said, “I’ll slice my own head off before you can touch Brittany,” he backed away, letting her go as he realized his bargaining chip was no longer worth anything.
“Give me the girl, Donatelli.”
“No.” Donatelli was in front of Brittany, and he put his arm behind him, waving at her to scoot back.
Corbin expected him to rush Donatelli, or grab Gwenna again. Instead, with no hesitation, he swung out with his sword and sliced Donatelli straight across the chest with so much force that blood arched everywhere, blinding Corbin and sending Donatelli crashing backward into Brittany, who screamed.
Wiping his face, Corbin launched himself in front of both Brittany and Donatelli, trusting Ethan and Alexis to get Brittany off the roof. And while it might not be the smartest move to go on the offensive with Gregor, he suspected Chechikov’s desire for the child was greater than his anger at Donatelli. He would step over the Italian and go right for Brittany.
Which Corbin didn’t intend to allow. He raised his own sword and attacked.
Brittany knew she should stop screaming, but she couldn’t seem to turn the volume off. There was just so much blood, it was everywhere, wet and thick, smelling sweet and putrid all at the same time. Donatelli had collided into her, knocking her down onto her butt, and now he was lying on the roof in front of her, his chest looking like he’d had a date with open heart surgery. In the dark ages. He was gored from end to end and she gagged, taking deep little breaths so she wouldn’t vomit the bile that kept crawling up her throat.
But he was a vampire. He would heal. And he had prevented Gregor from striking her. She suspected she had been the monster’s target—that he had intended to just swing out and kill her, then cart her body off in the melee. Easier to haul off a corpse than a kicking and screaming live person.
Alexis pulled Brittany back, away from her father, but that didn’t seem right, to just abandon him, so she fought her sister. Her spindly arms were no match, though, for vampire strength, and Alexis kept hauling her, despite her protestations. It was when Alexis had her a good five feet back from Donatelli, and she had stopped kicking long enough to look up, that she realized Corbin was engaged in battle with Gregor.
“Corbin! Jesus!” she shrieked, trying to break free from Alexis, whirling toward Ethan for help. “Stop him! He’s… ” No match for Gregor , was what she was thinking. Corbin was a lot of things, including sweet, cute, intelligent, and downright fierce in bed, but she didn’t think he could go head to head with a burly Russian double his size.
But the words died on her lips when she noticed that Corbin was a match for Gregor. Holy crap, he was a sword stud. He was doing that French musketeer thing, whirling and jabbing and clanking, moving with skill and confidence, and looking kind of, well, hot. Really hot. Hello. Yet he was still in mortal danger, regardless of the fact that he seemed to be holding his own.
Someone should rescue him, because she was going to croak if he got hurt. Not that he could get permanently hurt, because he was a vampire, but shit, what if Gregor cut off his head? Even a vampire could die if someone really wanted to kill him. She winced as Corbin stumbled backward from a particularly brutal blow. “Oh, geez, Alex, do something.”
“He’s fine,” was her sister’s reply. “He has everything under control.”
“But shouldn’t we… can’t we… ” Shoot a rocket at Gregor and launch him off the roof? There was an idea.
Alex rubbed her arms gently. “Sweetie, no. This is Corbin’s fight. Men don’t want to be rescued. Hell, I don’t want to be rescued. Now come on, let’s go.”
Leave? Was her sister nuts? “I can’t leave until I know he’s okay.”
“You’ll just distract him. He wants you safe.”
Crap. She knew Alex was right, but she couldn’t leave. Gregor was so strong and Corbin was… kicking his ass. Gregor was huffing and puffing, while Corbin hadn’t even broken a sweat. He held the sword loosely, yet whenever Gregor charged him, he was always right there with a block and a stab. Gregor’s chest was blooming scarlet from all the hits he’d taken.
“The baby, Brittany. Think about the baby.”
At the same moment, she saw Corbin glance over at her. “Brittany!” he yelled, appalled. “Get out of here!” Shoot, she was distracting him.
“Okay!” She moved toward the stairs. “But what about Donatelli?” It seemed rude to leave him there after he had tried to help her escape.
“Gwenna’s got him. She and Ethan will haul him out.”
Actually, Donatelli was walking on his own, and he and Gwenna were arguing.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” he demanded. “What were you thinking to grab that sword? I almost had a goddamn heart attack.”
“You can’t have a heart attack,” she told him sharply, her arm around his middle, supporting his weight. “And you should be ashamed of yourself for kidnapping a pregnant woman.”
“I had no intention of hurting her. And this is what happens when I don’t have you acting as my conscience.”
Gwenna bristled. “That was utterly exhausting, given your many misdeeds, so I retired. It’s called a divorce. And you haven’t changed one bit in the two hundred years since.” They moved slowly toward the door.
Brittany exchanged a look with Alexis. Gwenna was a bit more of a pistol than she had expected. And Ethan looked like he was choking on a nut. His face was completely red. “Can you move a little faster?” he demanded. “We’d like to get Brittany out of here before Gregor throws down his sword and charges us. Maybe we should leave Donatelli here.”
“Don’t let me burden you,” Donatelli pronounced coldly, letting go of Gwenna, and stepping aside, a sour and stubborn look on his face.
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Gwenna yanked his shirt. “Just get your bloody arse down these steps. Ethan, you be quiet or I’ll be tempted to box your ears. You have absolutely no reason to despise Roberto as much as you do.”
Donatelli and Ethan both looked startled, but Ethan was quick to retort, “You’ve gone daft! He’s been a bloody thorn in my side for nine centuries. He broke Alexis’s wrist. And he just hired an assassin to have me killed last fall!”
Scoffing, Donatelli limped down the stairs, holding his ribs under his blood-soaked shirt. “I knew he couldn’t kill you. It was just politics, nothing personal, Carrick.”
Gwenna glared at the men. “And you both wonder why I choose to hide in a pile of rocks in York? It’s so I don’t have to deal with either one of you.”
Alexis turned to Brittany, looking bewildered. “Something weird just happened. The three of them just had some kind of power struggle and I think Gwenna won.”
But Brittany was barely listening. As they went through the doorway, she was glancing back over her shoulder, checking on Corbin. He and Gregor were circling each other. Corbin had a feral grin on his face as he strode to the left, eye always on Gregor, his wrist spinning his sword like he was working the table at a hibachi steakhouse.
There was just no way she could leave.
Doing a totally stupid girl move, she ran back up the stairs, out onto the roof, and slammed the door shut behind her.
“After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?” Gregor said to Corbin, moving slowly, his breathing hard and labored.
“If I had had any idea zat you wanted to use my research for cloning, I would never have taken your money.” Corbin should have realized that no man shelled out hundreds of thousands of dollars without having a personal stake in it, no matter how rich or odd. Yet Chechikov had fooled him with his recluse status, his complete disinterest, his eccentric and random distribution of funding. “And I have lifted my sword because you took Brittany and my child.”
“You’re a scientist. You, more so than anyone else, understand the implications of that baby. You can’t keep him hidden, you know. I am going to win the election and then I will find your child. It would be much smarter to work together with me. I promise not to harm the baby if you conduct all your research on my behalf. Together we can rule the Nation.”
Corbin shook his head. “That’s your dream, not mine. And there is no more research. I destroyed all the data this afternoon. I am the only vampire who understands our genetic makeup, who can facilitate both a return to mortality and a population explosion, and it is gone. All of it.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but he was keeping that information to himself.
His words sent Gregor into a rage. “You French fool! I’ll kill you and take your baby and do the damn research without your goddamn pathetic little concerns.”
When he charged him, Corbin was ready, knowing Gregor had more strength than he did, but that his asset was agility and technique. When the Russian came at him, Corbin spread his legs, arched his sword, and with every ounce of strength he had, sliced the blade deep into Chechikov’s throat and neck, pushing backward to drive it deeper. Gregor stumbled, blood spraying, hands clawing at his neck, and with a tremendous heave, he managed to repel both Corbin and the sword back. But the momentum of his own massive push, the give of the sword leaving his neck, sent him catapulting backward, where he tripped and went over the side of the building with a roar of fury.
Dropping the sword, Corbin jogged to the edge of the roof and glanced down. Chechikov was falling fast and hard, and he heard the faint thump when the Russian collided with the top of a semitruck parked at the food delivery entrance of the casino and hotel. With any luck, Corbin had succeeded in driving the sword deep enough to cause death, or to injure him enough that he would bleed out on the truck before healing.
Unable to resist, he spat over the side to reflect his disdain for Chechikov. “Bastard.”
“Corbin, are you okay?”
He turned to find Brittany careening across the rooftop, holding her belly as she ran at breakneck speed. “What are you still doing up here?” he asked in horror. “You were supposed to leave with Carrick!”
“I couldn’t leave until I knew you were alright.”
Offended, he bent over to pick his sword up. “You did not trust me? You thought I could not handle the Russian? Perhaps I am not man enough?”
“Oh, good grief, chill. That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t questioning your masculinity, I was just worried.”
“You should have worried less about me and more about our child.” He was appalled that she had stayed when she should have taken herself straight to safety.
Not answering, she peered over the roof edge. “It’s too dark to see anything. Is he dead?”
“We should be so lucky.” Brittany was making him nervous, leaning like that, so he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “It is possible, and if you return home with your sister, I could investigate the situation.”
Her jaw dropped. “Why does it feel like we’re fighting with each other?”
“I am not aware that we are doing any such thing,” he said stiffly, even as he realized he was being unreasonable. But he had spent the entire evening terrified for her safety, and now he found that she had deliberately risked herself and their child because she thought he could not survive a battle with Gregor. It had his nerves shredded, his pride injured, his relief that she was safe so sharp, he felt as though he could actually taste it.
“Fine. Since we’re not arguing, you won’t say a word when I tell you that I’m going to the Ava and I’m going to eat something, and then sleep for about twelve hours in Alex’s apartment. If you feel like discussing anything with me, you can do it in the morning.”
Hurling his overcoat at him, she whirled around and tossed back over her shoulder, “Oh, and by the way, I told Donatelli he’s my father so that he would have an interest in saving me from Gregor. It worked, but now I have no idea what he’ll do with that information.”
Wonderful. Just fantastique .
Using his coat, he wiped the blood off his sword, and followed her down three flights of stairs to the elevator, suddenly feeling like a naughty schoolboy.
Arms folded over her middle, she stared up at the elevator numbers and gave little huffs and sighs of impatience.
Corbin could not tolerate the ridiculousness of their silence. “Brittany.” He wrapped his arms around her, bloody sword under his coat and all. “I was terrified they would harm you. I am so glad you are safe.” Leaning into her, he breathed deeply the scent of her body, her hair, and kissed her temple. It was calming to hold her, and he closed his eyes, pulled her closer. “I love you. It amazes me how much.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered, stroking her fingers lightly across his arms.
“I do not know what I would do if something happened to you.”
“Nothing happened to me.”
“I know. And nothing will as long as I have breath.” The elevator dinged at the first floor. “Now let’s find your sister so you can go home and relax. I have to check on Chechikov.”
Turning, she frowned. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“What stupid? What are you talking about? I’m just going to see if he is dead.” He covered the sword with his overcoat as they stepped off the elevator, knowing the Bellagio security would find it fascinating that a pregnant woman had shown up on their elevator cameras standing next to a sword suspended in midair. They would probably wonder if the building was haunted.
“Don’t provoke him. You won. Leave it at that. There’s no reason to pick another fight with him.”
There it was again. That implication that he could not win in a battle. He tried not to lose his temper. “Go with Alexis and sleep. I can handle Chechikov.”
She shook her head with a soft smile. “Boys.”
Kissing her forehead, he put a hand on her tight belly. “Girls.” He saw her sister pacing anxiously by a seating group of sofas in the lobby. “Now there is Alexis. Go.”
“Fine.” She went with a wave and a last admonishment. “Be careful!”
“Yes, yes.” Corbin picked his way through the casino and out a back door marked for employees. It took several minutes to find the loading dock that Chechikov had dropped down onto. Fortunately, there wasn’t a lot of activity in that area at night. The truck seemed to be parked in the loading dock waiting for the next shift to unload. Putting his coat back on, Corbin jumped up on the fender, and leaped onto the roof. He could see Chechikov lying on top and knew immediately he was still alive. He could hear his heart beating, the noisy rattle of his labored breathing as he moved in closer.
The neck wound was healing, but his eyes were glazed with pain, his arm bent at an odd angle. Corbin did not want to kill him, because he was certain that would not sit well with the tribunal. Also, he was not entirely sure how Brittany would react to that. But he knew leaving Gregor to recover would be dangerous. There would be nothing then to prevent him from abducting Brittany or the baby at a later date.
“Atelier,” Chechikov said, struggling to sit up.
“Chechikov. I see you have suffered no permanent damage from your clumsy tumble,” Corbin said, feeling not a single ounce of pity for him.
Gregor gave up the effort and fell onto his back. “Rot in hell. Go and leave me alone to heal. You won’t kill me, I know you won’t. You are too soft, like Carrick. Even like Donatelli.” Gregor closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and locked gazes with Corbin. “And when you have forgotten all about me, and you’re living your charmed, self-important life, with your pretty little mortal girlfriend, I’ll come for her. And when I’m done with her, after I’ve raped her over and over, taken her blood, broken her bones, forced her into submission on her knees, my cock in her mouth, she’ll wish she were dead. But I won’t kill her. I’ll play with her, torment her, until I’ll leave a knife out or maybe a gun and she’ll kill herself rather than have to suffer one more minute. And the whole time she’ll wonder where is my lover? Why won’t he save me? Corbin, Corbin… ” Gregor mocked, his voice a high-pitched imitation. He sneered. “But you’ll never find her, not until her body is filled with rot, and the vultures have pecked out her eyes.”
Corbin wanted to kill Gregor, take his head off with one slick swipe of his sword. He could do it, and Gregor wouldn’t be able to defend himself. But that was too good for the bastard. So he sat down next to Chechikov, calmly, coldly, and listened to him hiss and spit his threats, his vile promises. Corbin said nothing, but stared out behind the Bellagio at the labyrinth of Dumpsters and employee parking lots, the reality behind the illusion of the casino, and waited.
And when he saw that Chechikov’s neck had healed sufficiently, and he was starting to move restlessly on the truck, testing his healing bones, Corbin reached into his overcoat and pulled out his portable lab kit that he carted everywhere. The kit in which he had stored his triumph, his vaccine. Loading a syringe, he plunged the needle into the vial and withdrew the clear liquid.
Gregor was coughing, but still managed to say, “What the fuck are you doing, you French *?”
Corbin turned and ripped Gregor’s sleeve up. There was a plump, rich vein hovering right at the surface of his inner elbow. Waiting for him. Perfect. This was the best solution, the most logical way to protect Brittany and the baby.
So he pricked Gregor with the needle, and injected him with the vaccine that would suppress his vampirism virus and essentially return him to mortal.
“Have a nice, long recovery, Gregor,” he said, tucking the syringe back in the carrying case. “And stay the hell away from my girlfriend.”
He walked away with Gregor’s groans of agony ringing in his ears.