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The man worked his jaw as though trying to recall the words, but then capitulated with a shrug. “Take it any way you want, but know that it’ll be my pleasure to keep an eye on her. For security,” he added quickly.
Dominique arched a brow. “Andonlythat.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Because she is a lady, but I know you are no gentleman.”
He vanished before Garrett could even think about a reply.
22
Lost and Found
Dominiquecursedtohimself.Hours of riding the borrowed Ducati through the downtown core and far into the city’s outlying areas, and he had nothing to show for all his prowling. Not only was Vancouver a sprawling modern metropolis, it was also bereft of vampires. At least any that conveniently walked on the streets, which was the only realistic place he could search for them.
No bright vampire auras drifted in the sea of lights, nothing that stood out in the sensory cacophony. Nor was there any hint of blood-drinker in the air streaming past his nose, which was full of exhaust fumes and dumpster rot spiced with cannabis and brine. As for the dark web, only a handful of insubstantial entities drifted in his awareness, impossible to pin down without Cassidy’s help.
He tensed in his seat while waiting for a light to go green at the bottom of a skyscraper canyon. With her condition being what it was—and a sense of wonder brought him up short every time he thought of it—he would have to learn to reach into that void without her human sensibilities to guide him. He was reasonably sure his bite wouldn’t harm the baby, but giving her his blood for this deeper connection was something else again.
A misty rain had set in, coating his face through the open visor and trickling a chilly finger into the collar of his jacket, making him hunch his shoulders with more than just discouragement. All around, the city swelled with activity, bracing for the coming day. His window of opportunity was closing fast. Perhaps his time would be better spent discussing the situation with Cassidy?
Dominique looked around to find his bearings in relation to the hotel, when a black Ford Mustang cruised past with a blazing white aura at the wheel. He caught sight of her just as she saw him. Dark hair, warm makeup, lips parting in surprise. She didn’t stop. Opening the throttle, he bolted after her, heedless of lights and honks and screeching breaks.
The Mustang wove through traffic, tires hissing on the wet asphalt, keeping just this side of the law. Dominique had no trouble staying with it while he considered the driver’s identity. According to Isao, no vampires beside him survived in this city without Adilla’s favor, but all of Adilla’s colony, except perhaps for Esteban, had supposedly left the city. This made her either a friend of Isao’s, a tool of Esteban’s, or a clueless new arrival. Regardless, Dominique needed to know, and he needed to know it before the sun came up—even if that meant pursuing her straight into her lair.
He was torn between hoping she would lead him to Isao or lure him to Adilla. He would take either, but as she cruised along Highway 1, heading east and south for the better part of an hour, he hoped for the latter. If he could end this tonight and go home, he would.
By the time they reached Surrey, the ocean tang was a distant memory. The streets became narrower as they cut through commercial and residential neighborhoods and finally lost themselves in an industrial district dominated by mills, truck depots, and junkyards. With enough speed to send dirt and gravel flying, the Mustang turned into a deserted lot. What appeared to be a mid-sized warehouse waited there, windowless and shuttered, its loading docks empty.
Dominique caught her split-second glance in his direction as she got out of her car. Then the wet shadows swallowed an indistinct smear of motion as she disappeared. The sole visible door emitted a groaning squeal and fell shut behind her.
Through the veil of rain, Dominique couldn’t see the sky brightening in the east, but he could feel the coming sun anyway. There was barely enough time to return to the hotel, but he had come too far to let this opportunity go now. He sensed no other blood-drinkers. Only the one he had pursued here, and who might or might not have the answers he needed.
He parked the bike, leaving it running, tossed the helmet aside and sped after her. If she hesitated so much as a second to volunteer those answers, he would rip them out of her head.
He got as far as the door.
The stale air that wafted out carried the stink of rancid blood and burned flesh. Every hair on his body lifted in silent alarm. Somewhere in the building’s depths, another door clicked shut, taking her heartbeat with it. Hiding. But from what? The blood-drinker she had obviously led here? Why?
Dominique stepped back out into the rain and let the door close on a plaintive squeak. Answers or not, if he walked into another trap, there would be no hope for him this time.
Leaving the mystery of the warehouse where he found it, he made his way back to the hotel with ten minutes to spare—and a plan.
23
Less Than Your Best
Shortlyaftersunset,Jacksonhobbled down the hall, dreading the moment he would have to knock on Dominique’s door and report on this complete disaster of a day. This morning, it had been Dominique who had startled Jackson and Garrett out of bed with insistent pounding on their door. Before vanishing, he gave them an address in Surrey and terse instructions on what to do there.
Getting blown up had not been part of the plan.
By now, with the shock and adrenaline long gone, everything hurt. Between the bruises, cracked ribs, swollen and unreliable knee, and the angry red road rash that ran up the left side of his body and continued onto his face, Jackson’s almost twenty-seven-year-old body had fast-forwarded to ninety-seven.
And explaining any of this to Dominique, of all people, was going to rankle.
The Lord of Night himself answered the door, rumpled and mussed from his rest. His hazel eyes widened as he looked Jackson up and down, taking in the bandages and stiff posture. “Come in,chèr.Sit.”
When Jackson took a limping step toward the nearest chair, Dominique compounded his awkwardness by rushing to grab it and turn it so Jackson could drop into it with a minimum of effort.
Cassidy emerged from the bedroom and stopped short. “Oh my God. Jackson. That looks way worse than the few scratches and bruises you mentioned.”
He gave a tight smile. The muscles in his face also hurt. He’d been popping ibuprofen like candy, the strongest thing he would take. His head needed to remain clear no matter how messed up the rest of him was. “I’ll manage.” He wiggled the finger stumps on his right hand. “I’ve been through worse. Remember?”
