chapter Eighteen
Gwenna found it really irritating that David Foster, the quintessential nice guy, with a wide smile and chewing gum in his mouth, could be a cold-blooded murderer. It just boggled the mind.
It was wrong and she intended to get to the bottom of it. As David ushered her off the elevator on the second floor, she glanced at him. "Why did you do it?"
"Do what?" He looked around—nervously, she suspected.
"Infiltrate the loop and kill those boys. They were just playing around, it was a hobby to them. And you killed them." That distressed her beyond belief. It was never fair to involve some innocent bystander in vampire business and politics. And surely that's what this was.
She didn't really expect him to answer but he stopped walking, the knife hidden in his waistband. Gwenna thought she could probably break away from him and run, but lie would catch her. They were in a quiet mirrored hallway with only one other couple twenty feet away, though God knew she didn't want to involve any more mortals in the mess. Besides, she was curious as to where he was taking her.
"I didn't enjoy doing that. But I had to."
"Why? Were they threatening you? They're just mortals, David. They can act out their slayer fantasies all they want, but it's very difficult for even the most skilled slayer to kill a vampire. You know that." None of this was making any sense to her. "How does Sasha play into all of this?" And what was Sasha currently saying to Nate upstairs?
Saying Sasha's name made David even more agitated. Sweat was on his forehead and he shifted anxiously. "Chechikov was going to kill her. But first, he was going to torture her, unless she took out the slayers. He's already been knocking her around… right since the first day they were married. So I was helping her, taking care of Chechikov's nasty requests so he would leave her alone. I followed Chechikov to the Ava out of curiosity, and watched him sneaking around the pool. And I realized he was mortal. It seemed like an amazing opportunity, you know? So I killed him, too. Problem solved. Sasha free, slayers left alone…" He leaned forward, so close to her she could see the shadow of his beard and smell the cinnamon of his gum. "I'm going to take you into this club and you're going to dance and drink and have a great time. Just like you did at The Impalers concert."
Gwenna ignored that. She was still floored from the obvious realization that David was Slash, and he was absolutely and utterly in love with Sasha. Poor sot. That would be a cold bed to lie in, she imagined. And he had killed for the witch. Maybe she wasn't being fair to Sasha, but somehow she doubted there was a hidden heart of gold.
"You're in love with Sasha, aren't you?"
David's eyes narrowed, then he just scoffed. "I'm not discussing anything else with you."
"Love makes you do insane things, doesn't it? But trust me, David, some people are not worth our devotion. They just drag us down to their level. I should know. I was married to Roberto Donatelli for three hundred years."
"I'm not interested in this conversation," he said, and took her elbow, pulling her back down the hall.
"Why are you taking me into a club?" What the hell did any of this have to do with her? A thought occurred to her. "Is Kelsey here?"
But he looked genuinely confused by that. "No, why would she be?"
Gwenna dug her feet into the carpet. Her mind was racing, struggling to keep up. "The slayers are here, aren't they?"
He just wiped his free hand on the bottom of his black T-shirt and yanked her harder. "I wouldn't drink so much this time if I were you."
Since she couldn't decide if that was meant to protect her or send her up the proverbial river, she said nothing. But he had to have a decent reason for hauling her with him, and she wanted to know what it was.
There was a doorman scanning IDs through a computer and verifying they were on the guest list. "I'm on the list," Gwenna said stupidly when he scanned her license and her name popped up. Now why was that exactly? Who would gain from having her attend what obviously wasn't just open night at the club, but a private party. One she knew nothing about.
Then it occurred to her. The slayers knew that killing her would invoke a lot of anger from vampires. Ethan. Alexis. Roberto. All of them with enormous amounts of power and people at their disposal. They wouldn't take her murder lightly. They would retaliate. So in essence, killing her would start a war.
What a special feeling to know her stupidity might be responsible for exposing all of her species to mortal condemnation, ensuring the death of hundreds if not thousands of vampires and mortals alike.
The doorman handed her identification back. "Thank you, Ms. Carrick."
When he moved, Gwenna saw that he had a gun tucked under his button-up shirt, which was open to his T-shirt. And he was mortal. "Thank you," she told him with a polite smile, stripping him of his weapon before he was even aware she had moved. A quick thrust of her hand and she had him down on the ground in a glamour, breathing heavily, eyes closed.
She rounded on David, gun aimed at his chest. "Explain what the hell is going on here."
He cursed colorfully. "You can't kill me with that."
"And you can't kill me with that knife. But we can both cause each other some pain and slow each other down. Which puts us at a stalemate."
"I'm stronger than you."
"I'm smarter than you."
"Someone's coming down the hall," he said.
Gwenna could hear them, too. "Get behind the desk. And drag the doorman with you."
"No!"
"Yes, you idiot. If someone sees us, they'll call the cops and that will ruin whatever nefarious deeds you have planned for inside that club."
That spurred him into action. He grabbed the doorman by the feet and hauled him behind the desk, tugging on Gwenna's shirt as he went by. She went with him, just because she wanted to keep an eye on him. The whole situation was ridiculous. Squatting down behind the desk, the gun still loosely in her hand, she glanced at David next to her. He looked tired. Resigned. The doorman was drooling, crumpled up on the floor. And she felt the urge to giggle, but restrained herself.
Then she realized who was coming down the hall. It was Nate. She could hear his voice, low, angry. Smell him. It was instinctive to stand, but halfway up she dropped back down. If he was speaking to someone, odds were it was Sasha, so it would be wise to see what they were doing first. She shot David a stern look to ensure his silence, but he looked too miserable to say anything.
"If you're lying to me, I'll be very, very angry," Nate said, and Gwenna was glad she wasn't the one who had ticked him off. That was not a pleasant tone he was using.
"I am not lying," a woman replied, her voice almost as cold as Nate's, her accent Russian. Definitely Sasha.
David's eyes widened when he realized who it was.
"David will be here at the club and you can arrest him. He deserves to rot in jail for murdering my husband and for harassing me."
There was a sharp intake of air from David and he whispered, "That…"
Bitch. Exactly what Gwenna had thought. She was sorry to be right in this case. David looked like he was going to revisit his dinner, and he looked absolutely heartbroken. Utterly crushed.
"He killed the others to incite the slayers to violence, and he has been stalking me with his unwanted attentions."
They opened the door and went into the club. Gwenna heard laughter and music float out. She and David sat still for another second, until she reached out and patted his knee. He had killed three men, but he had thought he was doing so to protect the woman he loved from her monster of a husband. She actually felt a certain amount of pity for him.
"I'm sorry. She isn't worth it, you know."
"Yeah." David squared his shoulders. "Guess I should have known a woman like that wouldn't be into me."
"You don't want her into you. She has issues. Serious issues."
"Whatever. It's fine. My online name isn't Dumb Fuck for no reason." He turned to her. "Don't go in there. They're going to kill you."
So David was both Slash and Dumb Fuck. That was clever. "Who are the slayers?"
"There's five of them, all wearing T-shirts that say, 'Get Impaled, You Know You Want It.' "
Gwenna blinked, and again had the completely inappropriate urge to laugh. "That's creative."
He gave a brief smile. "I think they call that a double entendre."
She had to ask, had to confirm what she thought, because she was convinced David wasn't really a bad sort after all. "The boys on the loop… did they suffer?"
His eyes shifted away from her. "No. I put a glamour on them, killed them, then drained them. Worst thing I've ever done… it was a horrible feeling. But I thought I was protecting whatsername from her husband."
"You need to make restitution in some way to those families, because what you did was wrong, even if your reason was noble."
He didn't answer. He just stood up and was gone.
Gwenna wrinkled her nose. She really needed to work on the lack of badass-ness in her personality. Gigantic softie that she was, she'd just let a murderer zip away to God knows where.
What was she going to tell Nate? He seemed like a nice guy, honest .
Somehow she didn't think that was going to go over well.
She stood up and went into the club to find the man she loved and explain herself.
And take out five vampire slayers wearing ironic T-shirts.
Nate wondered why people weren't dropping from seizures nightly from the irritating strobe lights flashing in the dance club. It was one of those Vegas hot spots that he normally wouldn't get within ten feet of, and wouldn't be allowed entrance to anyway. His shoes weren't cool enough. But there had been no one at the door tonight and it was a private party, though it was still filled with skinny half-dressed women and pretty men. The purple velvet sofas were all stuffed with people, tables in front of them littered with exotic drinks, the DJ pumping out loud music with words he couldn't understand.
Sasha kept trying to get away from him, so he was holding her hand like they were lovers, but with an iron grip on her.
"You will never figure out who the slayers are," she said, trying yet again to yank herself to freedom.
It was sheer stubbornness. He was amazingly strong now that he was immortal. "Which is why you're going to tell me who the slayers are, because if you don't, you're going to die right along with everyone else when they carry out whatever their plan is."
"I am not afraid to die."
Man, she was irritating. Nate glared at her. "Well, maybe I should just strangle you right now and get it over with."
She made a sniffling sound and stuck her chin in the air.
For ten long exasperating minutes he wandered around the room, wondering what exactly he was doing, and when a plan would miraculously occur to him, when Sasha suddenly made a sound. He turned to look at her, suspicious. "What?"
"Nothing." She shook her head, but couldn't quite prevent her eyes from darting to the left.
Nate turned in the direction she was looking and wondered if vampires could have a heart attack.
Gwenna was getting a piggyback ride from a guy with a shaved head and a goatee, her long hair flying behind her as he bounced her around.
Whatever possible explanation there could be for that, he was pretty damn sure he didn't want to hear it.
"I don't want to be here," Ringo complained to Kelsey as she led him through a throng of dancers at a lux nightclub in the Bellagio. There was some kind of vampire party going on and Kelsey was running on and on about how she knew the band and wanted to see them before they left Vegas.
Ringo had a headache and was already questioning his conviction to go clean, made a whole freaking five hours earlier. Everything was so much easier in the haze. The real world was loud and painful and demanding.
"Come on, silly, it's fun." Kelsey was wiggling to the music as they moved through the crowd.
"Yeah, well, I'm not having fun."
"Dancing is a better high than heroin."
Now who was the one on drugs? Was she serious? "I'm afraid I have to disagree with you, babe."
Which made her pout, her bottom lip jutting out. "Come on, sweetie, try to have a good time."
"Try to be normal, you mean." Well, he wasn't normal, whatever the hell that was.
"I didn't say that."
"You meant it." And that was the fucking pot calling the kettle black. Kelsey wasn't normal either. She wouldn't know normal if it walked up and kissed her ass. That was why they were a good pair.
"Don't put words in my mouth," she said, snuggling up against him, her breath teasing across his lips.
"I could think of something better to put in your mouth."
She laughed. "You're naughty and rude."
"That's why you love me." She did love him. And he loved her, in whatever way he was capable. He went to kiss her, but she pulled away, giggling.
Her giggle was probably the best thing about her, it was so carefree and vibrant. He reached for her, intent on holding her, but she squirmed away and spun on her high-heel shoe.
And ran straight into Sasha Chechikov.
The guy who was holding her arm tightly shoved her at Kelsey and Ringo. "Watch her. Don't let her leave. I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the crowd and Ringo narrowed his eyes at Sasha. "Well, well, well. Look who stopped by to visit."
Sasha tried to mask the fear, but Ringo could smell it. She also tried to run, but he caught hold of her hand and pulled her in between himself and Kelsey. "Leaving so soon? I don't think so. I want to talk to you. Let's find a table."
It had seemed like a good idea to let Drake the bass player hoist her on to his back so she could scan the room better, but she hadn't expected him to react so enthusiastically. They were doing a horse and rider interpretation as he ran across the club humming the theme song from The Lone Ranger . It was all she could do to keep from being flung off and sent sprawling. There was no way she could actually focus long enough on anyone's shirt to read it.
As it was, half the women in the room were probably suspecting Gwenna of hitting on them, since she was studying their chests so assiduously.
"I think we can slow down," she suggested.
Drake reacted with a battle cry of "To the bar!"
Or they could go to the bar. Sure, that was fine, too.
They skidded to a halt, and Gwenna took the opportunity to slide off Drake. She took a deep breath and shoved her hair out of her eyes. And saw Nate standing in front of her.
"Hi!" she said, feeling more than a little ridiculous.
She introduced Nate and Drake to each other, grateful when Drake handed her a martini glass and excused himself.
"So, how are things?" She set the martini down on the bar, knowing it for best for everyone if she didn't drink that.
Nate just looked at her in that unnerving way he had. She shifted uneasily, glancing around the room. "I found out what the slayers are wearing—"
"Gwenna," he interrupted her brusquely.
"Yes?" Here came the lecture, about improper behavior and the seriousness of what they were doing, etc., etc. She should probably deliver it first and spare him the breath.
"You know how I said I wasn't sure if I could trust my feelings? That I wasn't sure if I'm in love with you?"
Of course she remembered that. It had been a really lousy moment for her, so thanks for bringing it up again. "Oh, yes, I remember."
"Well, I was wrong. I am completely and totally in love with you." He moved closer to her and took hold of her waist. "When I saw you bouncing on some other guy's back, I suddenly realized that I love everything about you, and I don't want to lose you. Ever." He touched her cheek. "I want you to move in with me."
Honestly, she had not seen that one coming. Perhaps she should ride on men's backs more often if it brought about the very thing she wanted. She grinned at Nate, heart swelling. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
Kissing him lightly on the lips, she said, "Then I would love to move in with you. And I love you, too."
More than she could believe possible. But then again, she was ready to fully and forever, and this time she was absolutely certain she had chosen a man worthy of that kind of devotion.
"Aren't you going to lecture me for my inappropriate behavior?" she asked, pulling back slightly and smiling at him.
"Hell no. I have no intention of telling you how to act. You're a grown woman."
Good answer.
His eyebrows went up and down. "Besides, I think I needed a little jolt of jealousy to make things clear. You're an amazing woman and I want to be with you, live with you, love you. Now let's rope up these slayers and get the hell out of here so I can get you naked and do wicked things to your body."
Even better answer. "I like the way you think. So here's the deal. David Foster said the slayers are wearing T-shirts that say, 'Get Impaled, You Know You Want It.' "
Nate tilted his head a little. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, why?"
"Because I see four guys and a girl standing right in the freaking doorway wearing shirts with that catchy little phrasing on them."
Gwenna stopped herself from turning around by sheer willpower. "Are you serious?"
"Yep. So let's go take them out."
"How?"
"They're mortal, we're immortal. Shouldn't be too hard." Nate squeezed her hand. "This is your take-down, babe. You're first man in, and I'll take your back. Get them in the hall and the rest should be easy."
Easy. Sure. He was trained in combat and she was trained in embroidery. She looked up at him, about to protest.
But he gripped her shoulders and said, "You can do this. I know you can. You are badass, Gwenna. And you'll be saving hundreds of lives in the process."
Well, hell. If he could trust her abilities, then surely she could, too. She nodded. "Let's do it."
And she turned and moved toward the door, confident that Nate was right behind her.
"I have nothing to say." Sasha pushed away the drink Ringo had ordered for her.
"You're going to sit with me until you explain why you tried to kill me. I have all the time in the world." More than he really wanted to think about, given that every day—well, night actually—was a struggle for him.
Kelsey was sucking down a cosmopolitan to his right, looking ditzy and disinterested, gaze fluttering around the dance floor. But Ringo knew better. Kelsey was watching everything they did, and if he needed assistance, she would be there. She was good at convincing people to dismiss her as a dumb brunette and that al-ways worked to their advantage. It caught people off guard when she made a move.
Sasha just stared at him.
And Kelsey, without even turning toward them, said, "It's because of Kyle."
Ringo started at the mention of his brother's name. He should be used to it. Kelsey dropped Kyle's name randomly, sometimes even calling him Kyle as a nickname, which he both despised and liked. But the stab of pain he always felt whenever his brother was mentioned was insignificant next to the realization that Sasha had reacted to Kyle's name.
Tears popped into her eyes and her lip trembled. "Do not bring Kyle up. Ever."
"You knew my brother?" he asked, horrified.
For a second he didn't think she would answer, but she smoothed her hair, which was pulled back tightly, and pressed at her temples. Then she lifted her eyes. "We were engaged. I met him online. We were in love. We were going to get married, and you killed him."
Ringo felt rancid bile rise into his mouth. "That's true," he said. "I did kill him. Accidentally."
It had happened so fast, it had been reactionary on his part. He was a trained killer, first in the Marines, then as an assassin, and he couldn't hesitate, never hesitate, or he would wind up dead. So when he'd been living in California and Kyle was visiting, he had never paused, defending himself with his semiautomatic when a competitor had opened fire on his house in a drive-by. The smart thing to do probably would have been to lie low and let it go, but Ringo didn't want to give the impression that he could be intimidated. Threatened. So he had shot back, to make a point.
Kyle was just a nice kid, a college student, raised in a suburban neighborhood with none of the demons that his older half-brother had been exposed to. He had panicked. Stood up.
And when the noise settled and Ringo picked up his brother's dead body, it was obvious that the fatal bullets had created entry wounds on Kyle's back, not front. Shot in the back by his own brother. Dead.
"I do not care what happened. All that matters is that Kyle is dead and you killed him. And he was a better man than you could ever be." Tears were streaming down her cheeks now. "I do not understand how a man with so much love and potential had to die, when you—despicable, lazy, a disgusting drug addict with no thought for anyone but yourself—you get to live forever."
Ringo's hands and feet felt cold and there was a buzzing in his ears. He did not need this bitch pointing out the truth to him. "Well, life ain't fair, is it?"
Rage coursed through him, alive, pulsing, determined and frantic and demanding. "Come with me."
He stood up and grabbed her by the arm.
Kelsey stopped watching the dancers. "What are you doing?"
His wife looked alarmed, and she should. He was a man—a vampire, a monster—on the edge. He couldn't stand to look into Sasha's face and see his shame. "Why did you marry Chechikov?"
"To get access to vampires. To kill them."
"That had nothing to do with me."
"No."
Ringo moved her across the club, jostling people out of their way. "So you hate vampires?"
"With every bone in my body."
He paused to look down at her beautiful face. There was nothing but hatred there. This woman had married a man she despised, had let Ringo himself touch her, put his hands all over her body. She was willing to use whatever she had to exact whatever revenge she had planned.
"That's such a shame. Because you're about to become a vampire."
If she could punish him, stab and scar and mutilate him with that look, with his guilt, with her hatred and profound disgust and disdain, then he was entitled to punish her in return. Let her be shoved into what she claimed to despise, let her be forced to drink blood and hate herself for enjoying it, let her stare ahead into an endless future with no hope, no love, no fight left.
Then she could look at him and see the mirror image of herself, and she would have no right to judge..