Luther's Return
Page 46
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
The one-story house seemed to be in the middle of a forest, hidden away from curious eyes.
“No farther!” a male voice came from somewhere in the darkness.
Luther stopped, and Katie instinctively tensed. “I was hoping you’d grant an old friend shelter for a few hours.”
“Luther West.” Suddenly a man appeared to their right. He lowered the crossbow slightly, but it was still pointed at them, and loaded with a wooden stake.
“Striker Reed.” Luther nodded toward the weapon. “Collecting antiques these days?”
Striker grinned, and Katie could now clearly see his fangs peeking from between his lips. “Guns are overrated. I prefer to kill my prey and my enemies silently.”
“I’m glad I don’t fall into either category,” Luther said dryly.
“No, you don’t,” the vampire agreed. Then he ran his eyes over Katie, making her shiver involuntarily. She’d never seen anybody with such a cold regard. “Jury’s still out on her.” He inhaled. “What is she?”
“Human,” Luther answered without hesitation. “And she’s injured. I need a place to take care of her.”
Striker took a few steps closer, his eyes zooming in on her bloodstained shirt. “By the looks of it, you already have.” He paused. “But who am I to turn away a friend in need?”
The stranger pointed his hand toward the house. “Mi casa es su casa.” Then he walked ahead of them and opened the entrance door. A second later the interior of the house was flooded with light.
Luther carried her over the threshold. “Do you have a room where I can clean her wound?”
Striker motioned to the back of the house. “Spare bedroom has a bathroom with it.” He walked ahead and opened the last door on the left.
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Luther said.
Gently he placed her on the bed, removing her shoes in the process.
“Need help?” Striker asked.
Katie’s gaze shot to him, and she noticed the lascivious look he ran over her. Instinctively she pulled on her shirt to cover up her bra.
“Actually, yes, there’s something you could do for me,” Luther said. “I’m looking for somebody.”
“Wouldn’t have anything to do with the little scuffle at the prison tonight, would it?”
Katie noticed Luther squaring his shoulders as if he expected a confrontation. “How did you—”
“You forget,” the stranger cut him off, “that my connections to the council give me unique insight into everything that happens on my turf.” He nodded toward Katie. “I suppose you’re not really a hooker like my source said.”
Katie tilted her head to the side. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
Unexpectedly, Striker laughed, then addressed Luther. “Yeah, didn’t really think you were into hookers.”
Luther grunted something unintelligible, his facial expression dark and stormy.
“Who’re you after?”
“An ex-V-CON named Cliff Forrester. He was released about a week ago. I need to know where he is now.”
“What’s he done?”
“He kidnapped the hybrid daughter of an old friend of mine.”
Striker nodded. “Well, in that case, let me make a few inquiries. You guys okay here on your own for a couple of hours?” He chuckled dryly. “Scratch that. Of course you are.” He turned and marched out into the hallway.
“Thanks, Striker,” Luther called after him.
When the entrance door opened and then closed again a few moments later, the tension in Katie’s body finally released. She swung her legs out of bed.
“Whoa!” Luther stopped her, planting himself right in her path. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She motioned to her bloodstained shirt. “Getting cleaned up. What else?”
He pressed his palm against her shoulder, forcing her to lie down again. “I’ll take care of that. You: stay!” He turned to the door of the en-suite bathroom. “And take off your shirt.”
“The bra, too?” she bit out, annoyed by his commanding tone.
He spun his head to her. “Just the fucking shirt, unless you’d rather I help you with that.” Then he disappeared in the bathroom.
Katie felt a shiver run down her spine, turning her skin into goose bumps. Her nipples hardened at the same time and she suppressed a curse. Upset with herself for her sophomoric reaction to the order, she peeled out of the shirt and tossed it onto a nearby chair.
“No farther!” a male voice came from somewhere in the darkness.
Luther stopped, and Katie instinctively tensed. “I was hoping you’d grant an old friend shelter for a few hours.”
“Luther West.” Suddenly a man appeared to their right. He lowered the crossbow slightly, but it was still pointed at them, and loaded with a wooden stake.
“Striker Reed.” Luther nodded toward the weapon. “Collecting antiques these days?”
Striker grinned, and Katie could now clearly see his fangs peeking from between his lips. “Guns are overrated. I prefer to kill my prey and my enemies silently.”
“I’m glad I don’t fall into either category,” Luther said dryly.
“No, you don’t,” the vampire agreed. Then he ran his eyes over Katie, making her shiver involuntarily. She’d never seen anybody with such a cold regard. “Jury’s still out on her.” He inhaled. “What is she?”
“Human,” Luther answered without hesitation. “And she’s injured. I need a place to take care of her.”
Striker took a few steps closer, his eyes zooming in on her bloodstained shirt. “By the looks of it, you already have.” He paused. “But who am I to turn away a friend in need?”
The stranger pointed his hand toward the house. “Mi casa es su casa.” Then he walked ahead of them and opened the entrance door. A second later the interior of the house was flooded with light.
Luther carried her over the threshold. “Do you have a room where I can clean her wound?”
Striker motioned to the back of the house. “Spare bedroom has a bathroom with it.” He walked ahead and opened the last door on the left.
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Luther said.
Gently he placed her on the bed, removing her shoes in the process.
“Need help?” Striker asked.
Katie’s gaze shot to him, and she noticed the lascivious look he ran over her. Instinctively she pulled on her shirt to cover up her bra.
“Actually, yes, there’s something you could do for me,” Luther said. “I’m looking for somebody.”
“Wouldn’t have anything to do with the little scuffle at the prison tonight, would it?”
Katie noticed Luther squaring his shoulders as if he expected a confrontation. “How did you—”
“You forget,” the stranger cut him off, “that my connections to the council give me unique insight into everything that happens on my turf.” He nodded toward Katie. “I suppose you’re not really a hooker like my source said.”
Katie tilted her head to the side. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
Unexpectedly, Striker laughed, then addressed Luther. “Yeah, didn’t really think you were into hookers.”
Luther grunted something unintelligible, his facial expression dark and stormy.
“Who’re you after?”
“An ex-V-CON named Cliff Forrester. He was released about a week ago. I need to know where he is now.”
“What’s he done?”
“He kidnapped the hybrid daughter of an old friend of mine.”
Striker nodded. “Well, in that case, let me make a few inquiries. You guys okay here on your own for a couple of hours?” He chuckled dryly. “Scratch that. Of course you are.” He turned and marched out into the hallway.
“Thanks, Striker,” Luther called after him.
When the entrance door opened and then closed again a few moments later, the tension in Katie’s body finally released. She swung her legs out of bed.
“Whoa!” Luther stopped her, planting himself right in her path. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She motioned to her bloodstained shirt. “Getting cleaned up. What else?”
He pressed his palm against her shoulder, forcing her to lie down again. “I’ll take care of that. You: stay!” He turned to the door of the en-suite bathroom. “And take off your shirt.”
“The bra, too?” she bit out, annoyed by his commanding tone.
He spun his head to her. “Just the fucking shirt, unless you’d rather I help you with that.” Then he disappeared in the bathroom.
Katie felt a shiver run down her spine, turning her skin into goose bumps. Her nipples hardened at the same time and she suppressed a curse. Upset with herself for her sophomoric reaction to the order, she peeled out of the shirt and tossed it onto a nearby chair.
