It is not! she told herself firmly, trying to shake off the wild impression. Yet the jangle of her instincts refused to quiet. Unnerved, she took a step back so fast her ankle turned under her.
Before Val could fall, McKinnon caught her elbow as his dark gaze lit with warm concern. “Hey, are you all right?”
God, he even sounded like Cowboy.
Shaken, she peered up into his face. His eyes were just eyes now -- kind and ordinary. I imagined that, she told herself firmly. He was not Cowboy -- Cowboy didn’t exist. And she certainly hadn’t touched the man’s mind and found something alien. “Rough flight,” she said aloud, as much to herself as him.
“Do you need to sit down?” He caught her other hand as though afraid she’d keel over. The black leather gloves he wore felt warm against her skin. He moved closer, and for a moment his heat and strength sizzled all up and down her body. Her nipples peaked.
She blushed hotly. “I’m fine.” Shaking back her hair, Val straightened and pulled free of his light grip.
McKinnon studied her, frowning. “You sure about that? You look a little pale.”
“Like I said, rough flight.”
“Then let’s get you somewhere you can rest.” He smiled, his teeth dazzling, white -- and perfectly ordinary.
“Sounds good.” She grimaced at herself, realizing she’d half expected fangs.
McKinnon neatly hooked her laptop bag off her shoulder and onto his own. “We’d better head to the baggage carousel for the rest of your luggage. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
Val nodded, trying to ignore the flicker of unease that slid through her at the thought of being alone in a car with him. He was not, damn it, Cowboy. It was just that he had dark hair, and any dark-haired man would remind her of her demon lover right now. As for that beautiful velvet voice of his… Surely Cowboy’s hadn’t been that deep, that resonant.
Unconsciously, her eyes scanned down his tall, well-built body. Muscle rippled up and down his broad back, flexing in the tight hemispheres of his ass with every thrust… She felt her face blaze in a blush.
Okay, so he was built like Cowboy. Maybe. Or maybe the shoulders of his black uniform jacket were padded.
Not judging by the strength in those hands.
“Baggage pickup is this way,” McKinnon said, in the sort of low male rumble that could spin seduction around even the most casual comments. He turned toward the carousel a short distance away, and Val followed, trying to convince her overactive imagination to settle down.
Despite her jumpy nerves, some feminine instinct purred approval of his long-legged stride and the easy swing of those powerful shoulders. He was just so damn big. She’d always had a weakness for big men.
Unable to resist another glance at the muscled length of his legs, she saw that his trousers were tucked into shining black boots that clicked as he walked. It occurred to her that there was something deliberately flamboyant about the chauffeur’s uniform he wore -- the black tunic with its gold buttons, the leather gloves, the riding boots when she’d bet money he never went anywhere near a horse. He looked like something out of ‘40s film noir, as if Lauren Bacall were waiting in the car wrapped in mink. It made her wonder about the kind of employer who’d choose such a rig for his driver in the twenty-first century.
Yet somehow McKinnon managed to carry the costume off. He was one of those rare men who could project masculine charisma dressed in a clown suit. Val grinned, imagining a parade of women trailing hopefully behind a pair of big, floppy shoes.
McKinnon reached the baggage carousel and gave her a smile as she joined him. Yet his eyes weren’t directed at her, or even down at the luggage circling on the belt. Instead, he scanned the surrounding crowd, his gaze flicking warily from face to face as he held himself with a martial artist’s loose-limbed readiness.
If that man is just a chauffeur, I’ll eat my laptop, Val thought suddenly. He’s a bodyguard.
The suit jacket of that black uniform was too well-cut to bulge, but she’d bet money he wore a shoulder holster under it when he wasn’t picking somebody up at an airport.
What’s more, she sensed he actively expected trouble. Was it just professional paranoia, or did he really expect someone to attack them here?
Val felt her own tension ease. The sense of danger she felt must be an unconscious reaction to his wariness. It had nothing to do with her vampire nightmare after all.
But what kind of enemies did Edward Ridgemont have, anyway?
* * *
Where the hell were Ridgemont and Hirsch?
Logically, Cade knew he could expect to find his sire waiting in the dark outside the airport terminal, ready to kick his ass again. Except he hadn’t picked up even a ghost of Ridgemont’s menacing psychic signature in any of his scans. The ancient wasn’t here.
That left Hirsch, but Cade had beaten the German in every fair fight they’d ever had. Which meant this would not be a fair fight. Hirsch would ambush him. Probably with one of Ridgemont’s twelve-gauge double-barreled shotguns that could blast his head right off his shoulders. Not the kind of weapon one ordinarily carried into La Guardia, but with a vampire’s powers, anything was possible.
And yet… Something about the idea of a shotgun ambush just didn’t feel right. Ridgemont had talked about killing him too many times, with too much anticipation. He’d want to do the job himself. Yet he wasn’t here.
So what the hell was going on?
* * *
As they watched the luggage slide past on the carousel, Val let her attention slip to McKinnon’s face. Now that her overactive imagination had calmed down, she realized there was something in his brown eyes she recognized. Beautiful as they were, they were also flat with that particular resigned cynicism she knew from six years as a police-beat journalist.
She’d bet her last notebook Cade McKinnon was an ex-cop.
And not just any ex-cop, either. A man ended up with eyes like that by seeing life at its ugliest without being able to do a damn thing about it. And that meant homicide detective.
“How long has it been since you left law enforcement?”
McKinnon was scanning the crowd again. His gaze jerked to hers at the question, and she had the impression she’d startled him. Then he smiled slightly. “A very long time.”
“N.Y.P.D.?”
“Texas Rangers.”
Val stiffened. Just like Cowboy. She pushed the thought away. Don’t be ridiculous. Forcing herself to sound casual, she asked, “How’d you get involved in that?”
He shrugged. “The war was over, and I needed a job.”
“Iraq?”
“Yeah.” Silently, Cade cursed himself. He shouldn’t have told her about the Rangers -- he’d seen the flicker in her eyes as she associated that bit of information with Cowboy. He had to be more careful.
Unfortunately, there was something about her that demanded honesty, no matter what common sense told him. Hell, he’d damn near admitted he was talking about the Civil War. He’d barely bitten the words back in time.
“There,” she said suddenly, glancing past him to point at an expensive leather bag sliding by. “That one’s mine.”
Thank you, God. He bent over and scooped it up. They really had to get out of here before Ridgemont or Hirsch showed up.
By the time Cade grabbed her third and final bag, his skin was crawling. He led her toward the exit at a speed just short of a run, wanting only to get her as far away as possible.
As they stepped through the building’s double doors, Cade hesitated, extending his vampire senses.
Still no sign of Ridgemont.
He took a deep breath, trying to pick up Hirsch’s scent, but the smell of jet fuel and gasoline overwhelmed everything else.
“Mr. McKinnon?” Valerie looked up at him curiously.
He gave her a phony smile. “Just trying to remember where I parked the car. And call me Cade.”
Muscles coiling in the back of his neck, he guided Valerie along the sidewalk toward the airport parking garage. He just wished he’d been able to find a spot a little closer to the exit.
* * *
As they walked between the rows of parked cars, Val frowned, studying McKinnon intently.
The strap of her laptop was hooked over his broad shoulder, and he’d tucked one suitcase under his left arm while carrying the other in his left hand. Somehow, he managed all three with such easy strength they might as well be empty cardboard boxes.
“I’m curious,” she said. “Just who are you expecting to jump us?”
She thought she glimpsed startled guilt in McKinnon’s eyes before his face went politely blank. “What? What are you talking about?”
Val nodded at his free hand, held loose and empty at his side. “You look like you’re ready to draw down on somebody.”
“Come on, Ms. Chase, you really don’t think I carried a gun into a New York airport?” He gave her that charming grin she was beginning to suspect was a con.
“Did you?”
“Why would I do that?
Val lifted a brow at him. “You’re Ridgemont’s bodyguard, aren’t you?”
He barked out a laugh. “The exact opposite, actually.”
She grinned. “I don’t think so.” When he lifted a brow in question, she explained, “The exact opposite of a bodyguard would be an assassin, right?”
All the humor fled his eyes as his warmly handsome face took on an executioner’s chill. “Sounds that way, doesn’t it?”
Val felt a shiver skate her spine as she remembered her last dream of Cowboy: his eyes glowing red as he buried his fangs in his victim’s throat. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged his impressive shoulders. “Take my word for it, Edward Ridgemont does not need a bodyguard.”
Her instincts began to clamor so loudly, she was tempted to tell him she’d catch a cab. Somehow, she didn’t want to see his reaction to that idea.
What the hell is going on?
They took an elevator up to the third level and got out. Skin crawling, she scanned the garage, lit by the harsh overhead lighting that cast pools of deep shadow. He led her between the rows of cars until he finally pointed an electronic key fob at a black Lexus. The trunk lid popped open obediently, and he began stowing her luggage inside with that same quick, effortless strength she’d noticed before. There were more suitcases in there than just her own, and Val wondered if Ridgemont habitually kept his luggage packed in case he was called out of town.
Finally, McKinnon closed the trunk and moved to open the front passenger door. She hesitated, her stomach jittery, her mouth dry. Imagination, she told herself. Get in the car, you idiot.
“Ms. Chase?” McKinnon turned to loom, his uniformed chest a solid wall of black.
Val licked her lips and stared up into his dark eyes. When she realized she was searching for a scarlet glow, she swore silently at herself and got into the Lexus, impatient with her own neuroses.
A nagging thought struck her as she settled into the butter-soft leather seat. Didn’t people who rode with chauffeurs normally sit in the back of the car?
Glancing behind her, she saw the back seat was full. A battered blue canvas gym bag sat on the seat, along with… Was that a sheathed sword? And the kite-shaped metal thing standing in the floorboard looked just like a shield. “Does Mr. Ridgemont collect medieval weaponry?”
McKinnon hadn’t yet closed the door. As she watched, frowning, he crouched on the pavement beside her and took her right hand in his, reaching into a back pocket with the other. The glare of the garage security lights cast a harsh glow over the sharp planes of his face, making him appear white and gaunt.
A seventeen-year-old memory rose in her mind.
He hunched on his knees on her bedroom floor, his black eyes burning, empty and feral. He was big, almost as big as the German who’d attacked Mama, but the bones of his face stood out as if hadn’t eaten in weeks. His clothing hung on his body, and he shook in racking quivers. In a voice that barely sounded human, he rasped, “Get out. Run before he makes me kill you.”
He had fangs like a wolf.
She felt a weird plummeting sensation, as if the ground had suddenly dropped out from under her feet. “You’re the third vampire. You’re the one he sent to kill us. You were with them when they murdered my parents.”
He flinched and tensed. As he lifted his head, the shadow of the cap’s brim fell across his nose -- just the way the Stetson’s always had.
“Cowboy, you son of a bitch!” She drove her fist toward his elegant nose with every ounce of her strength.
* * *
Ah, hell.
It was worse even than Cade had expected. Controlling her flailing fists took no effort at all, of course, but then Valerie shoved one high heel against his crotch. Before she could grind the spike into anatomy every bit as vulnerable as any other man’s, Cade dragged her out of the car. She howled and kicked as he wrestled her down onto the dirty cement. Her enraged screams rang off the garage walls.
“Calm down, Valerie!” he yelled over her curses as he worked to pin her wrists. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to hurt you, you gutless, blood-sucking bastard!” She writhed like a maddened cat, all curves and fury and long, slim legs. “What the hell were you doing in my dreams? Why did you pretend to be my friend -- my lover? Were you just setting me up the whole time? Well, it’s not gonna work.”
When she lunged for his lower lip with snapping teeth, he barely jerked back his head in time. “Dammit, Valerie,” he snarled, baring the fangs that had descended when her foot had threatened his balls. “Stop that!”
She screamed back a string of curses that would have made a mule skinner blush.
Trapping both her wrists in one of his, Cade clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her furious shrieks. She dug her teeth into his palm and bit down hard. He jerked back, astonished at her gall. “Have you lost your mind? What’s wrong with you?”
“What the hell did you expect?” she spat. “You spent the past seventeen years playing me for a fool! I was a child, you bastard. I trusted you.”
“And I helped you!”
She laughed, the sound short and ugly. “Helped yourself to my ass!”
“It was never like that!” Gritting his teeth, he gave her shoulders a ruthlessly controlled shake. “You’re the one who reached out to me, Valerie! You wanted me to protect you from your monsters, and I did. Then you wanted a father figure, and I was. And later, when you wanted a lover…”
“You fucked me,” she snarled. She bucked under him, fighting to free her wrists from his grip, her knee driving up against his butt. Cade clamped his thighs around her legs, hooking her ankles with his feet to still her kicks. Dammit, surely she’d have to wind down sooner or later.
For the first time in his life, he was tempted to slap a woman, if only to shock her out of her blind frenzy. But judging by the crazed gray glitter of her eyes, she’d still go after him. She felt too betrayed.
With a frustrated growl, he let his full weight crush down on her. There wasn’t much else he could do. He’d never lifted a hand to a woman in his life, and he’d certainly never hit Valerie. But he had to shut her up before someone heard her screams over the jet engine roar from the nearby runways.
* * *
Cowboy wrapped himself around her like a living straight jacket, heavy and hot. At first Val was too far gone in hysterical fury to be aware of him as anything other than a target for her fists and teeth.
But bucking against all that sheer strength and muscled weight was exhausting, and the massive chest pressing into hers made it hard to breathe. Her struggles weakened until she collapsed under him, panting in fury and exertion.
“You ready to talk now?” he gritted.
“What’s there to say?” Damn it, vampires were supposed to feel cold and dead to the touch. Cowboy was all heat and brawn. “If you’re going to rip out my throat, get it over with.” Fear slid through her at the thought, only to be overwhelmed by another surge of rage. She couldn’t believe he’d betrayed her like this.
Cowboy’s sensual mouth flattened into a hard, tight line. “I’ve got no intention of hurting you, Valerie. Hell, I’m trying to save you. Again.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re a big hero, you lying son of a bitch. You said you’d save my parents, and you let them die!” Dammit, she should have seen this coming. Deep down, she’d always known Cowboy was real, no matter what logic insisted, just as she’d always known her parents had been murdered by vampires.
But finding out Cowboy was one of them -- God, that hurt.
“I didn’t ‘let’ them die, Valerie. I did fight for them. I was just too late.” Tightening his grip on her wrists, he got to his feet, hauling her up effortlessly.
Val braced shaking legs under her and stared up into his handsome, implacable face. There’s no way to fight him, she thought, bitter and terrified. He’s just too damn strong.
Her parents had tried to fight too. It hadn’t done them any good either.
Her father screamed and struggled as a short, muscular blond man dragged his head back by the hair and buried long white fangs in his throat. An even bigger man had Mom pinned on the living room couch. He’d ripped open her nightgown, and he was hurting her. She sobbed as he mocked her terror in a thick German accent before leaning down to bite her neck. Blood spurted around his lips. He hummed in pleasure.
A gaunt, dark-haired man stood watching like a robot, his face blank and white.
The same man who held her now.
Something cold circled her arm, jolting Val out of the paralyzing grip of memory. She looked down to see Cowboy snapping one bracelet of a pair of handcuffs onto her right wrist. “What are you doing? Let go!” She tried to jerk back, but he’d already crowded her backward to the open car door and begun forcing her down into the seat.
“We’ve got to get out of here. We’ve wasted too much time as it is.” He released her uncuffed wrist to thread the other bracelet through the door handle, then grabbed for her free hand again. She cocked her fist and aimed for that handsome nose.
The vampire jerked his head up, meeting her eyes with his lips drawn back from white fangs. “We don’t have time for this. If you want to be something other than Edward Ridgemont’s sex toy, stop fighting me.”
Surprise penetrated her fury. “Ridgemont? What’s he got to do with this?”
“Who do you think killed your father, Valerie?”
The leader knocked her father aside with a brutal swat. “Well, if it isn’t little Valerie Chase.” His accent was clipped and English.
Ridgemont had an English accent.
“That’s right,” the vampire said, snapping the handcuff closed. “He got you fired from your newspaper job and offered you that money as a lure so he could get you to New York. Now that you’re here, he means to Turn you into you a vampire -- and then he’ll get artistic. You’ll pray to die.” He glared at her, tight-lipped. “A fate I’ll save you from if you don’t screw up our escape.”
“Too late,” growled a deep Germanic voice.
Cowboy spun. Something blurred out of the garage shadows. He vanished like a leaf in a whirlwind.
Metal crunched and glass shattered, accompanied by the shrill cycling howl of a car alarm. Val jerked in the direction of the sound and saw him tumble across a minivan parked in the opposite row of spaces.
Brutal hands closed over hers. With a gasp, she snapped her head around. A man crouched at her feet, both her handcuffed wrists in his grip. Blond and GQ handsome, his face was as elegant as if someone had laid it out with a straight edge, but his body was vintage Conan the Barbarian. “Hello, fraulein.” He wore a leather jacket and dark blue jeans that looked pressed and new. As he spoke, she glimpsed fangs in his mouth. “You’ve grown up to be quite the beauty. I do hope Ridgemont will share.”
Staring into the vampire’s cold smile, Val recognized him. It had been seventeen years, but he hadn’t aged at all. The cruel hands around her wrists were the same ones that had held her mother down as he raped her.
This can’t be happening, a small voice wailed somewhere in her mind. None of it. It’s impossible. There is no such thing as vampires!
But there was. Grandma had been wrong. They’d all been wrong.
A sudden vicious pain in her wrists snapped Val out of her shock. The German was pulling her wrists in opposite directions, trying to break the handcuffs.
No!
Vampires or not, real or not, she wasn’t going to let them take her. Neither of them.
Her paralysis shattered. Val drew in a breath and screamed with all the air in her lungs as she tried to throw herself back into the car. The handcuffs jerked her to a stop, ripping pain through her muscles.
Her panic gave way to rage again, cleansing and welcome. Goddamn it, I’m not going to let them do this to me! I’m not going to let them kill me too! Val threw up both legs and kicked her captor savagely in the face. “Let go!”
“Bitch!” the vampire roared, releasing her wrists to knock aside her frenzied feet. He rose, drawing back a big fist as blood snaked from his nose.
A hand clamped into the leather collar of the German’s jacket and snatched him off his feet as though he weighed no more than a child.
“That’s one woman you’re not going to beat,” Cowboy snarled. With a twist of his powerful torso, he tossed the German across the parking garage to slam into a cement wall. The big man bounced off it and fell in a heap.
The brutal impact should have broken bones, but the blond vampire rolled neatly to his feet, one hand wiping blood from his nose. With the other he drew a huge knife sheathed at the small of his back. Its curving blade was fully as long as her arm.
“That’s it, McKinnon, I’m going to cut out your heart.” His chilly blue eyes glittered as he stalked her kidnapper. “And then I’m going to fuck her while I feed.”
“Oh, come on, Gerhard.” Cowboy drew the blade’s twin from under his own jacket. “The only thing you’re going to do is bleed, and you know it.”
Val’s heart lunged into her throat. The blond -- Gerhard--was three inches taller and outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. How was her leanly muscular Cowboy supposed to defeat that beefy monster?
And if he loses, I’m dead.