She could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “Shit."
"Indeed."
"Can I drug her? Will anything work?"
"No. The virus will clean anything from her system much too fast to do any good. You should—"
He stopped mid-sentence, and Cyn could hear a silky, deep voice in the background. Her heart jumped and it was suddenly difficult to breathe.
"My lord—” She heard Duncan begin. She didn't listen any further.
"Good-bye, Duncan.” She hung up. Her cell phone rang almost immediately, but Cyn didn't answer. She was tempted to turn it off, but was afraid Kelli might call, or even Liz herself. So she switched it to vibrate and watched it dance around the table a few times, her eyes never leaving the display as it shunted every call to voice mail. Finally, it was silent. She deleted the messages unheard.
Chapter Thirteen
It took several hours and too many phone calls, but Cyn finally found companies in the Houston area that had the equipment and services necessary for what she had planned. After that, she took a long overdue shower, standing beneath the needles of hot water until her skin was bright pink, in a vain attempt to convince her muscles to relax even a little bit. Finally giving up on that, she wrapped herself in one of the hotel's big fluffy towels and blew her hair dry, then pulled out the bag of makeup she always threw into her suitcase but rarely used. She didn't overdo it, applying only enough to bring out the green in her eyes, the sharp edge of her cheekbones. Her clothes were chosen with equal care, designed not for comfort, but for impact. A short, black leather skirt clung to her thighs and showed off the curve of her firm ass. She had worked hard to keep it that way and was not above using it to her own advantage. She added a dark turquoise silk blouse, with a draped neckline that showed a fair amount of cleavage. Not enough to look slutty, but enough to be casually provocative. Her shoulder rig was an awkward fit with the slick fabric, but she tugged it on anyway. She wasn't going anywhere near Jabril Karim without her gun.
Her leather boots worked well enough, their high heels accenting the long length of her legs beneath the short skirt. She pulled on the leather coat over everything, her fingers automatically finding the cool metal switchblade in the bottom of one pocket. Guns were great, but vampires were fast, and if she needed something in a hurry ... Well, it was always good to have a backup. Everything else went into her small suitcase. She took a final look around the room, slung her backpack over one shoulder and rolled her suitcase into the hallway and to the elevator.
The rental vehicle she'd arranged was waiting for her outside the hotel, manned by an eager young man who took great pleasure in demonstrating the various features of the big SUV, including every imaginable luxury convenience and a dazzling array of cup holders. The only features Cyn really cared about were the in-dash navigation system and the darkly tinted windows all around. She'd chosen this company for its specialty in renting to high profile clients who desired anonymity.
After dropping the young man back at his office—he said it wasn't necessary, but Cyn insisted—she turned on the GPS and headed for the Hawthorn Estate, now Jabril's personal lair in all but name.
* * * *
"This is most irregular,” the guard growled. “Lord Jabril Karim is not expecting you."
"I know,” she said with an ingratiating smile. “And I am sorry, but I really need to speak with him and it can't wait until tomorrow."
He frowned at her, and then turned away with a gruff, “One moment."
While she waited, Cyn checked her watch and walked herself mentally through the next hour or so. It was a few minutes past five a.m. and, according to the local paper, the next sunrise would occur around seven-thirty. She was cutting it pretty close, but her greatest fear was giving Jabril enough time to come after her. By slipping out as close as possible to sunrise, she was counting on the vampire lord not discovering anything amiss until he woke tomorrow night. By then, everything would either have already gone to hell or, if luck was with her, she and Mirabelle would be enjoying the view from Cyn's condo on the beach.
She listened as the guard spoke to someone on the house phone, probably Asim. He struck her as the kind of flunky who would control access to the big guy as a way of ensuring his own power base. When the guard turned back, she was ready with a brilliant smile.
"My lord will see you."
Cyn fought against the urge to roll her eyes. “That's very kind, thank you so much.” Her effort to be pleasant garnered nothing more than a grunt in response, but the gate opened, which was all she really cared about.
Cyn parked the big SUV on the outward curve of the driveway, which put it far away from the front door and closer to the path leading to the servants’ quarters in the back. She hoped such things wouldn't matter when it came time to depart, but one never knew. The front door opened as she reached the porch and a middle-aged man appeared, heading toward a couple of cars parked to one side. The very definition of clean-cut, the skin of his face gleamed and his nearly white hair was cut short enough that his pink scalp was clearly visible. This must be the other private investigator Jabril had hired, the real one. She knew the type. Former military, he probably had a very docile and very young wife at home, someone he'd brought from an island far away, somewhere where women were still subservient to men. She chuckled privately. More than one of those guys had been unpleasantly surprised when the little mouse became a real American woman. He ignored her, brushing past without even a glance.
Cyn turned as he went by. “You're looking for Elizabeth Hawthorn, aren't you?” she called.
He stopped, turning his head sharply to stare at her.
"Any luck?” she asked.
He shot an angry look at someone over her shoulder, walked over to his car and climbed inside, departing without so much as a word.
"I see you make friends wherever you go."
Cyn's gut clenched, but she made sure nothing showed on her face as she turned to confront Asim, who was blocking the door. “Asim,” she said. “How lovely to see you again."
The vampire's gaze traveled down her body, lingering on the length of bare thigh visible below the short skirt, before meeting her eyes. “Is this how you do business, Ms. Leighton?” His expression told her exactly what he thought her business must be.
"I dress the part, Asim. Whatever works. I'd like to speak to Mirabelle again, if possible."
"You were hardly expected and it is nearly dawn,” he said primly, but Cyn just smiled pleasantly. If he was waiting for some sort of explanation from her, he'd be waiting a long time. “Come this way,” he snapped.
* * * *
Jabril Karim leaned back behind his desk and studied the cowering young woman. There was no pleasure in punishing Mirabelle. She didn't give even a pretense of fighting back, surrendering almost before he'd struck the first blow. Not that he stooped to actually hitting her. That was far too crude, and the evidence far too visible. Besides, he had no need to resort to such brute measures; as her Sire, he could inflict pain with a thought. She did cower prettily, he'd give her that. She was curled up like a dog over there in the corner, trembling so hard he could see it from across the room. Very satisfying in its own way, he supposed, and it was the only satisfaction he'd enjoyed thus far tonight. He hadn't even fed before business had intruded, an urgent missive from the head of his family in Saudi Arabia that demanded immediate action.
And now this business with Elizabeth. That idiot private investigator Asim had hired had found nothing—absolutely nothing. Less than two weeks remaining until her eighteenth birthday, and she seemed to have vanished into thin air. Jabril had waited years for this opportunity; he'd bribed and cajoled the necessary authorities, put up with their intrusive investigations and inspections. He'd earned the right to whatever fortune the girl inherited. More, he'd earned the right to the girl herself. Elizabeth showed much more spirit than her older sister, and Jabril had greatly anticipated the pleasure of breaking her, of seeing her crawl at his feet and beg for mercy.
He pushed away from his desk in anger, shoving back the chair and standing so quickly that in her corner little Mirabelle gasped in fear. And now Raphael's whore had shown up unexpectedly, no doubt to report a similar failure, not that he'd expected anything useful from her anyway.
A soft knock sounded and Asim slipped into the room, glancing at his Sire before opening the door fully to admit the Leighton woman. Jabril tensed instinctively as she entered and he scented the faint but unmistakable whiff of Raphael that still clung to her skin, to the blood that ran in her veins. His hunger surged as she sauntered into the room, her long legs sliding like silk beneath a short leather skirt, breasts brazenly displayed. He imagined what it would be like to have her under him, those legs wrapped around his hips, his cock pounding her mercilessly, his teeth sinking into that smooth neck until her hot blood gushed down his throat. He grew hard at the thought, even harder when he imagined Raphael's rage at the trespass. Of course, it was hardly his fault that Raphael left this one to wander about unprotected. The other vampire lord had to know how tempting she would be to his enemies. He stared at the woman through hooded eyes, feeling the press of fangs against the soft tissue of his gums as they responded to his body's hunger.
"Ms. Leighton.” It came out as more of a growl than he'd intended and he saw her eyes widen slightly as she took in his obvious signs of arousal. Her scent changed, sweetened by the tinge of fear, and his arousal grew. He could be on her in the blink of an eye, long before she saw him coming, long before she drew the gun concealed next to her soft breast.
He took a half step forward, his mind filled with thoughts of Leighton's naked body stretched beneath him, trembling with need, her blood running down over those full breasts to be licked away as she cried for release.
Mirabelle whimpered and the Leighton woman dropped away from his outstretched hand to crouch next to the stupid girl. He snarled angrily, the words that would punish already forming in his head. He stopped and sucked in a deep breath, drawing on the tremendous will that made him one of the most powerful vampires alive.
