Chapter Twelve
“YOU THINK THIS is it?” Garrick’s question was sub-vocal, meant for Quinn’s ears only. It was difficult to have a completely private conversation in a vehicle full of vampires. Garrick sat next to Quinn in the back seat, with Adorjan in the front passenger seat and Casey driving. Quinn had called him back from Howth with the sunset, knowing the final confrontation with Sorley was near. When it came, and Quinn suspected it would be tonight, he’d need all of his American team at his back. They were the ones who’d sworn to him from the very beginning, not knowing what the future held, but believing in Quinn, in his strength and ability. Their loyalty had brought them to Ireland—a place where most of them had never set foot—to help him take and hold a territory of his own.
Quinn didn’t have to think about his answer for Garrick. “I think it is.” His gut was telling him that tonight was, indeed, it. Either Sorley would confront him openly, or he’d do something that would force Quinn to issue the challenge. Probably the latter, since Sorley was the kind to let others do the dirty work and take the responsibility if it failed.
Quinn didn’t intend to fail.
Sorley’s house was mostly dark when they arrived, his guards sharply alert when they opened the gates to admit Quinn’s two SUVs. A pair of guards tried to slow them down as they drove through, harassing him simply on principle, it seemed, since there was no other reason to do it. It wasn’t as if Sorley wanted a public battle in the middle of Donnybrook.
Casey ignored their demands and plowed through, followed bumper-to-bumper by the rest of Quinn’s team in the second SUV. The two vehicles came to matching tire-squealing stops, and the doors flew open to disgorge Quinn’s team. Everyone except Quinn, that is. Even Garrick jumped out to join the security cordon around the first SUV and hold Sorley’s people at bay. Quinn seethed silently, once again hating the necessity that had him sitting in safety while his people put themselves at risk. For him. But it was part and parcel of being a vampire lord. Not because the lords couldn’t take care of themselves, but because vampire society was old and rooted in tradition. It was expected that a vampire lord would have a retinue of guards who surrounded him whenever he ventured out. It seemed contrary to logic, but the absence of such a cordon would make him seem weaker, not stronger.
So, he sat and waited until Garrick opened the door for him to exit. And when he climbed out, he didn’t protest as his vampires closed in to form an impenetrable circle around him. Sorley’s vampires glowered at the show of force, but no one tried to stop him, or even approach, until they entered the large, marble-floored foyer of the house.
“Quinn.” Lorcan approached on his right, a friendly and completely fake, smile on his face. “You brought friends,” he said, eyeing the six vampires behind Quinn, including Garrick and Adorjan.
“Sorley’s message was short on details. I thought I might need a few fighters,” Quinn said blandly.
“This is more than a few.”
Quinn shrugged. “My people are protective. You understand.” He gave the other vampire a cool look that stopped just short of a challenge. He wasn’t about to be derailed by a confrontation with Sorley’s lieutenant. He’d wipe the floor with the vampire, but it would be a waste of time and energy. Or maybe that was the point. Maybe Sorley had sent Lorcan out as a sacrificial goat to weaken Quinn. He was a vampire lord’s lieutenant, after all. He’d put up a good fight. But Quinn wasn’t falling for it. “I’m assume Sorley’s in there?” he asked, gesturing at the double doors to the vampire lord’s throne room, behind which he could very clearly detect Sorley’s power like a simmering volcano.
Lorcan gave Quinn an absent glance, probably telepathing with Sorley, getting permission to proceed. Quinn didn’t wait. Gesturing for his people to remain close, he started forward, not even breaking stride when Adorjan shoved the doors open with a slap of his hands, hitting them so hard that they crashed back against the inside walls.
Lorcan hurried to get between them and the dais, signaling the four vampires who surrounded Sorley as he strode ahead to join them at the vampire lord’s side.
That damn dais will be the first thing I get rid of, Quinn thought to himself. Then hard on that, why bother? He wouldn’t be keeping the house anyway. Sorley had probably booby-trapped half the rooms, either as a defensive measure, or for guests he wanted to get rid of. And the décor was a bit overdone. Rather like the long, fur-lined cloak the Irish lord currently had draped over his shoulders. Quinn wasn’t sure what kind of fur it was—nothing from Ireland, he was sure of that. Ermine, maybe. A fur reserved for royals and the nobility, once upon a time. How very apt. Quinn wouldn’t have known where to find such a cloak, even if he’d wanted to. And why the hell would he?
He came to a halt a good distance back from Sorley, refusing to crane his neck to look up at the Irish lord. “Lord Sorley,” he said formally, refusing to use the alternate honorific of “my lord,” since Sorley was not, nor would he ever be, Quinn’s vampire liege. “I received your message, although the context was unclear. Nevertheless, here I am.”
Sorley glared down at him, hatred in every line, every nuance of his body. He’d probably known why Quinn was in Ireland soon after his arrival, had probably seen through the cover story early on. But the cover had never been more than a delaying tactic. Sorley was smart enough, and his spies good enough, to have dug out the truth as soon as Quinn started making waves in Howth. If they’d been very good—or if Quinn and his allies had been worse—the Irish lord would have known about Quinn before he’d ever set foot on the island, and they could have stopped him before he reached Dublin. It would have attracted far less attention and caused fewer headaches for the Irish lord. Not to mention the ramifications of having his rule challenged in the open like this. Even if Quinn lost—which he wouldn’t, but if he did—the simple fact that Sorley had been challenged would be seen as evidence of his weakness. He’d be forced to fight off several more competitors before he finally re-established himself. And it was always possible there was a powerful vampire lurking somewhere in Ireland, just waiting for his chance to rule.
Too bad that hypothetical vampire hadn’t stepped up when he had the chance, Quinn considered. Too late, now.
Sorley leaned forward. “I ordered you to present yourself, not bring this rabble along with you.” He gestured at Quinn’s very efficient and well-ordered team. Hardly rabble.
“As I said,” Quinn responded coolly. “Your message was unclear.”
“Well, it’s clear now. Get them out of here,” he called over Quinn’s head, addressing the two vampires who stood by the now-closed doors.
“I don’t think so,” Quinn said. “They’re my people, not yours. I’ll determine whether they stay or go.”
Sorley stood, his rage a physical thing that tore through the big room like a wild animal, crashing into furniture and breaking everything it touched. “I am the Lord of Ireland,” he snarled, his lips drawn back over his teeth. “You and your people belong to me, as long as you’re on my island.”
Quinn considered his possible responses, but there was really only one choice. It was why he’d come to Ireland, after all. “Then maybe it’s time you stepped aside,” he said quietly.
EVE HADN’T BEEN fooled by Quinn’s blithe dismissal of his meeting with Sorley, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. She’d witnessed plenty of bloody fights during her days of stalking the vampires who’d been responsible for her brother’s death. She’d known vampires were violent creatures, even before she’d seen Quinn kill everyone who came up against him.
But, even though Quinn’s ultimate goal was to kill Sorley and take over his empire, she didn’t think that challenge was going to happen tonight. A fight like that, a battle for all of Ireland, would require more planning and preparation. If nothing else, they’d need a location where they wouldn’t risk a bunch of human witnesses. Vampires might have come out of the shadows in the strictest sense, but they didn’t exactly advertise how they conducted their society or their business. It was one thing to have paparazzi publishing glamorous photos of sophisticated vampires and their beautiful women, but it was something else entirely to have pictures of a no-holds-barred, bloody battle plastered everywhere, complete with exploding bodies that left nothing but piles of dust on the streets of Dublin. She didn’t think either Sorley or Quinn wanted that kind of a fight made public.
So, while she wasn’t happy at being cut out of the night’s festivities—was even a little pissed to be honest—she wasn’t worried about Quinn’s safety. He’d said the night’s meeting was vampire business, so it was probably just secret vampire stuff. They had to have plenty of those—secrets, that is—since they’d been around for a very long time, and most of that had been in hiding. Hell, for all she knew, Quinn and Sorley were deciding on the rules for when they finally got down to it and fought the big challenge. Was it some kind of duel? Like a cage match? Okay, probably not that. Quinn didn’t strike her as a cage match kind of a guy, although he would look fine stripped to the waist and battling it out. . . . She pictured Sorley as his opponent and the fantasy lost its edge. He was good-looking enough, but the whole evil vibe destroyed his appeal. The challenge had to be something like that, though. She’d sure like to find out what it was. Maybe she could persuade Quinn to let her come along for that one. Although, she’d probably have to be sneaky and just follow him instead.
That idea cheered her up immensely, so she was grinning when she left Quinn’s house and started across to the wooden gate, which was always closed these days. There were still plenty of guards around—more evidence that the big battle wasn’t tonight, because surely Quinn would have taken all of his fighters—and someone had brought her car inside the wall. It sat off to one side looking like the poor relation to every other vehicle there. The two big, black Range Rovers were gone. She’d noticed that Quinn always took those, since they had room for him and all his guards.
“Good evening, Miss Eve.”
She swung around at the familiar voice, blushing guiltily when she saw who it was. Numbers. Sorley’s former accountant, whom she’d semi-seduced, while trying to learn some of Sorley’s secrets. Not the vampire kind of secret, just the rich asshole kind. Like where he kept his money and what he did with it. Unfortunately, Quinn had caught her before she could pump Numbers for much information. He’d assumed she meant to kill the accountant, and she’d let him believe it, since it added to her tough hunter image. But then he’d laid on the guilt trip, and she’d confessed. Honesty was a pain in the ass sometimes.
Numbers was one of Quinn’s people now. He’d sworn some kind of blood oath that was apparently foolproof. If a vampire tried to fake it, Quinn would know and, well, things wouldn’t go well for the vamp.
“Hey, Numbers,” she said, smiling as she headed for her car, juggling her keys in one hand. How had they moved her car without the keys? Why did she even bother to ask these questions?
“Mac,” the vampire said, as he moved in to walk beside her. Not threatening, just companionable. It was odd how he managed that. He wasn’t as big as some of them, but he wasn’t small either. Maybe five feet, nine inches or so. But he was still a vampire, still stronger and faster than even the strongest human would ever be.
She glanced up at him, confused.
“Lord Quinn calls me ‘Mac.’ I like it better.”
“Oh. Okay. ‘Mac’ it is.”
He walked to the other side of her car and stood there, as if waiting for her to unlock the door.
She looked at him over the roof of the car. “Um. You need a ride somewhere?”
He returned her look with one of surprise and a little embarrassment. “Didn’t Lord Quinn tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“I’m, uh. . . . That is, he asked me to keep you company tonight.”
“Keep me company,” she repeated stupidly, a moment before it hit her. Quinn thought he was so funny. Of all the people he could have chosen, he’d picked Mac, aka Numbers, to keep an eye on her. The vampire she’d tried to seduce, or at least pretended to. “Look, you don’t need to do this. I told Quinn I don’t need a babysitter. I’m just going to see my mam.”
But he was shaking his head. “It’s not like that, Eve. He’s not worried what you’ll do. He’s worried someone will try to hurt you.”
“I’ve been taking care of myself most of my life.” Although, really, only since her brother had died, but the last five years had felt much longer than that. “I think I can handle it.”
“I know you can,” the vampire said fervently.
She blushed at this reminder of their prior meeting.
“But Quinn worries,” Mac continued. “It’s kind of hardwired into his nature. That’s what vampire lords do, they worry about things.”
“Not Sorley,” she countered.
He shook his head. “Even Sorley. His priorities are different, as are his methods for dealing with it, but he worries all the time.” He pulled open the unlocked passenger door. “Come on, Eve, what can it hurt for me to go along?”
“I’m going to visit my mam. Trust me, you don’t want to be there.”
“So, I’ll wait outside and keep you company on the drive back.”
“I might not drive back if it’s too late. I’ll just stay in Howth.”
Mac shrugged. “I can stay at Quinn’s house there. No problem.”
Eve sighed. Clearly he wasn’t going to give in. He’d been given his orders and nothing else mattered. If she didn’t let him ride with her, he’d probably grab a car from the garage and follow her. “All right,” she said reluctantly. “Get in. But you’re in for the most boring night of your life.”
“I doubt that,” he said cheerfully, sliding into the small car. “I’m an accountant, remember?”
Eve had to admit that Mac was good company. He’d been Sorley’s accountant for decades, but he was also an inveterate gambler and had the stories to prove it. Turns out, there were definite advantages to being a vampire when it came to certain kinds of gambling. Eve knew about vampire telepathy, and how some vamps were stronger than others, although she was beginning to understand that she’d assumed every vampire had far more telepathic ability than they actually did. Some vampires were amazingly powerful, like Quinn. But the scale for the rest of them varied. Some could push a human to open the main Dublin Port gate, as Quinn’s bodyguard had the other night. Others were only slightly better than a persuasive human.
Mac, for example, couldn’t push a mind very hard, but he could read them like an open book. Particularly if the human was intently focused on something, like the cards they were holding in a poker game. Unfortunately, he explained, he loved gambling more than he loved winning. So, most of the money he won at cards went to pay his bookie, with whom he bet on everything from horse racing, to football games, to really stupid stuff, like the sex of the next royal heir, or who’d win the latest talent show or film award.
Eve thought he was crazy for throwing away so much money. But it didn’t seem to bother Mac at all. He just loved the game of it.
“Whatever,” she said, finally giving up on convincing him to change his life. They were nearly in Howth, driving up Thormandy Road, so she grabbed her mobile from the center console and called her mother. It rang four times before she answered, which made no sense. Her mam’s house was tiny. It was no more than a dozen steps from one room to the next, not even counting the fact that she always kept her mobile in her housecoat pocket. Her mam was convinced that hooligans were waiting on every corner, and she’d need the phone close when they broke in.
“It’s about time you called.” Brigid’s greeting was as loving as always.
“I’m in Howth,” Eve said, not bothering to respond to the implicit accusation. She’d learned long ago that it was pointless. “I’m stopping at my flat for some things, but then I’ll be by, if you’ll be there.”
“Of course, I’ll be here. Where else would I be in the middle of the night?”
It was hardly the middle of the night, but that was another argument not worth having. If she hadn’t asked, if she’d assumed her mother would be home, that would only have generated a different snide remark. “I’ll see you soon, then,” Eve said, and rang off without waiting for a response.
Mac glanced at her sideways. “You two get along?”
Eve was embarrassed, reminded that he’d have heard both sides of the conversation. “She hasn’t been the same since my brother died.” That much was true. He didn’t need to know the rest of it.
“The brother who was killed by a vampire.”
She shot him a quick look, surprised he knew about that. “Yes,” she said. “It was two vampires who killed him. I took out one of them the other night on the dock. Well,” she added reluctantly, “Quinn did. But I helped.”
“I heard about the fight down at the port. I didn’t know about your brother’s killer being there, though.”
She didn’t know what else to say about that and didn’t particularly want to say anything, so she changed the subject. “You sure you don’t want me to drop you at the house first?” It was the house where Quinn’s vampires stayed when they were in Howth, doing whatever it was they did. Smuggling mostly.
“No,” he said. “Lord Quinn would want me to stick with you. Don’t worry. Mothers love me.”
“Not mine,” she muttered. “She never liked a single boy who came round to see me.”
“She’ll like me.”
Eve shot him a sideways look. “Don’t go pulling any of that vampire shit on my mam.”
He laughed. “I won’t.”
She didn’t quite believe him, but let it go. Hell, maybe he could change her mother’s mood for an evening. Make her civil, at least. “I’m stopping at my flat to pack a few things, then we’ll go.”
The street in front of her flat was predictably short on available parking. She drove past once, then continued around the block, optimistically hoping someone would have freed up a space. Mac caught what she was doing. “Go ahead and double park. I’ll stay with the car.”
“You sure?”
“It’s that or watch you circle the block a few more times, so, yeah.”
Eve grinned and pulled up directly in front of her flat. “I’ll be fast,” she promised and jumped out. Mac came around to switch places with her, sliding in behind the wheel. “In case a copper comes along,” he explained.
Once inside, Eve grabbed underwear and toiletries, along with an extra pair of jeans, a short skirt, and the boots that had driven Quinn wild. Life couldn’t be work, work, work, all the time, right? She also gathered her research work materials, since it seemed she’d be spending much of her time in Dublin for a while. She had her laptop at Quinn’s, and much of her research was done online, but there were certain texts that she referred to over and over again, and she preferred to have those on hand.
Mac was waiting patiently when she walked back out again. Throwing the two bags in her trunk, she took the passenger seat instead of making him switch.
“So, where am I going?” he asked.
Her mother’s place was close, only three streets over. She gave him directions, then asked, “You sure about this? I can still drop you off somewhere fun. The pub’s open.”
He shook his head and made the first turn. “I’m good. Stop worrying. I won’t upset your mam.”
“I’m worried about you, not her.”
He smiled. “Is the parking better at her place?”
She nodded. “She has her own space in the alley behind her house. It’s small, but doable.”
A few minutes later, she was showing Mac where to pull in behind her mother’s place. “I’ll get out first, and that way you can park right next to the house.” Eve couldn’t understand why she was so nervous about this visit. It couldn’t be because Mac was with her. She’d stopped caring about whether her mother liked her friends a long time ago. But there’d been something odd in Brigid’s voice earlier. She was never pleasant, not to Eve, but there’d been a note of . . . satisfaction? . . . in her tone. Odd. But then, Eve had never been able to figure out what made Brigid the way she was.
Once Mac finished parking, they walked down the side of the house, bypassed the back door that her mother never let her use, and knocked on the front door. Mac gave her a questioning look. She didn’t blame him. How many daughters had to knock on their mother’s front door like a stranger?
The door opened and her mother was there, dressed in her usual housecoat and slippers, her dark gray hair cut short and curling around her head. It was a nice cut, and her mam had great hair. It had been red once, just like Eve’s, and still showed copper glints in the right light. But her mother didn’t keep it short because it looked good. She did it because it was easy to care for.
Brigid Connelly looked at her only surviving child. “You’re late.”
“A little bit,” Eve admitted. Anything else would become an issue, and she wanted this visit to go as smoothly, and quickly, as possible. “There was traffic.”
Her mother looked beyond her to where Mac stood at her back. “Who’s that?”
“Mam, don’t be rude,” she said quietly. “This is William. He’s a friend.”
“He the bloodsucker you’re fucking?”
“Mother!” Eve was genuinely shocked at her mother’s language, and her rudeness, too. Was this what they’d come to?
Brigid only gave a dismissive shrug and turned away, walking down the short hall to what she referred to as the parlor. It was a small sitting room that was only used for visitors. Eve didn’t count as such, but maybe Mac did, despite the lack of welcome.
Eve crossed the threshold, then turned and said, “Come in, William. You’re welcome.” This might be her mother’s house, but Eve had grown up there and lived there, even after Alan died, until she finally couldn’t take it anymore and had switched to her flat. She’d hoped her welcome was still valid and breathed a sigh of relief when Mac entered the house without a problem.
“Sorry,” she muttered under her breath, starting down the hall toward the parlor.
“Don’t worry yourself. Families are complicated things.”
Eve agreed with him, but she still wasn’t ready for the huge complication waiting for her in her mother’s parlor.