Chapter Two
Howth, Ireland, present day
EVE SAT ON THE bed to pull on her leather stiletto boots, the final component of her vampire hunting costume. That’s how she thought of it—as a costume. She didn’t dress this way on what she considered her off time, those rare nights when she met with old friends from university, or when she wasn’t hunting anything other than a hot cup of tea and a warm bed. The boots had cost too much money, especially for someone without a real paying job, but they were necessary. She spent long hours walking and running in those boots when she was on a hunt, and they had to be comfortable, as well as sexy. She stood and surveyed herself in the full-length mirror on the closet door.
“Sexy as sin,” she told her image. She stared a while longer, until the familiar sadness began creeping in, and she turned away. “Stop that shit,” she hissed. That was another familiar thing of late, talking to herself. She lived alone in this closet of a flat, a single room with a small bathroom, and a microwave and sink that passed for a kitchen. Most nights, she was out on the streets, tracking vampires, killing the ones who deserved it. She didn’t kill every vampire she came across. She killed the ones who abused humans, the ones involved in crimes, like the smugglers in Howth, who imported guns and drugs, the ones who killed without a thought.
It wasn’t easy for her, and it wasn’t without risk. She wasn’t a large woman, and she sure as hell didn’t possess any superpowers, like strength or speed. She had brains and determination going for her, but, if she was honest, it was her looks that got her close enough to do the deed. She hated it, but mostly she seduced her targets, getting them away from their friends, into a dark alley, or behind a building. She’d fill her thoughts with sexy images, wait until they were distracted by her breasts, and then go in for the kill.
It sounded easy when she thought of it that way, but it wasn’t. In the beginning, she’d spent more time running away than killing. Even now, it wasn’t easy to ram a wooden stake into a person’s chest, even if that person was a vampire. And it wasn’t squeamishness, either. It was physicality. The human chest had all sorts of safeguards meant to protect vital organs, like the heart, which wasn’t just sitting there waiting to be stabbed. But Eve had studied, and she’d improved. She knew just where to slide the knife. Because, yeah, that was another lesson she’d learned. The fatal blow didn’t have to come from a wooden stake. That was a myth. Anything that destroyed the heart would do, and a knife worked a lot better than a wooden stake. It sure as hell penetrated more easily, anyway. A gun could, potentially, wreak even more destruction in a shorter amount of time. And from a distance, too. Of course, guns made noise, even the silenced ones, and she preferred not to draw attention her way. But that wasn’t her biggest problem with guns, since she typically hunted in or around noisy pubs and other public places where vampires hung out looking for a meal. No, her biggest problem was that guns and ammo cost a lot of money. Something she didn’t have, obviously, or she wouldn’t be living in this dump of a flat.
She’d bought a small Smith and Wesson revolver from a black market seller. It had cost more than she could afford, and it hadn’t been worth it. Not for killing vampires. She suspected a different type of ammo would be more effective, but she could hardly walk into a shop and ask what it would take to blow a vampire’s heart apart. Vampires had rights in Ireland. It would be the same as if she’d asked how best to kill her husband, or her mother. There might even be some law that required them to report that sort of thing. Besides, she doubted the local gun shop owner either knew or cared to know how to kill a vampire. Vampires were public and all—not only in Ireland, but around the world—but they were also discreet. Most people preferred to pretend they didn’t exist, which was easy enough, since most would never, in their entire lives, encounter a real vampire.
So, she turned to the internet. But though Eve was a whiz when it came to online research, intel on killing vamps seemed to be missing. It was as if the vampire community had teams of people whose only job was to make sure there were no helpful hints about vampire hunting on the internet.
So, a knife it was. A big, very sharp knife that she carried in a specially made sheath down her right thigh. The black leather blended seamlessly with the black of her skirt, and most people, including most vampires, never saw the blade until it was drawn. She made sure of it. Like males everywhere, vampires liked to get up close and personal with women, and Eve used that against them. While the vampire was pawing her breasts, she was slicing his throat. It didn’t kill him, but it weakened him enough that she could stab him in the heart with the same blade.
As for the paying job part of her life . . . Well, vampires had money, especially the criminal types she mostly had contact with, and they tended to carry a lot of it with them. Once they were dusted—which was a whole ‘nother category of disgusting—they had no use for that money, and, sure as hell, no heirs to claim it, even if she’d bothered to go looking. She thought of herself as a modern-day bounty hunter, and the money as her reward. Combined with her side job of writing research papers for unmotivated university students, she had enough income to provide food and clothes, and to pay for this flat, which, ratty as it was, at least let her live on her own and not with her mother, Brigid. As if the thought conjured her up, Eve’s mobile came to life with the theme from the movie Halloween. It was Brigid’s ringtone and couldn’t have been more appropriate if it had been written specifically for her. Eve doubted Brigid would ever understand the not so subtle message that ringtone sent. Mother and daughter had never been close. Eve’s brother, Alan, had always been their mother’s favorite child, mostly because he was male, but Eve thought it might also be that the young Brigid and her husband had still been madly in love when Alan was born. By the time of Eve’s unexpected birth, unfortunately, economic reality and the hardships of years spent working on the docks had taken the bloom off the rose of their love. There was also the fact that Eve and her da had been close, something Brigid had bitterly resented. And when her da had died, Brigid had come right out and told the 8-year old Eve that it had been her fault, that if she’d never been born, her da wouldn’t have had to work so hard and been so tired that he’d had the accident that killed him.
Alan had been 17 at the time. He’d been outraged on her behalf, defending her against the unfairness of their mother’s accusation, even amidst his own grief. He’d stepped in, time and time again after that, becoming the only parent Eve had really known. But then he’d died, too. And this time Eve knew it was her fault.
She and her mother never talked about Alan’s death, except to agree it was Eve’s responsibility to get revenge for his murder. Eve had never told Brigid that it had been vampires who’d killed him, and yet Brigid had known. It made Eve suspect that her mother had known, long before Alan died, what he’d been up to. That he’d been flirting on the edges of some criminal activity or other that had included working with vampires, and Brigid had gone along with it. Had he done it because they needed money for Eve’s university tuition, for books and all the other supplies? That’s what Brigid had told her. That’s why she said it was Eve’s job to avenge his death.
Eve didn’t know if Brigid was being honest with her, and doubted she ever would. Her mother had only two expectations of her daughter—one, to kill the monsters who’d murdered Alan, and, two, to solve all of Brigid’s problems for the rest of her life. Eve tried, and sometimes failed, because that was Brigid’s deepest, sickest, wish. And yet, Eve kept trying, even as she recognized that she was really trying to win her mother’s love. Even as she knew that it would never happen. Pathetic.
She sighed and let her mother’s call go to voicemail. She’d pay for it later, but she had a job to do tonight, and she didn’t need her mother’s demands distracting her. Killing vampires had become second nature, but she never forgot how dangerous it was, how easily she could be the one who ended up dead. Or worse.
Pulling her skirt up over her thigh, she slid her knife into its sheath. She smiled, remembering her first efforts, and how she’d carried her knife down her back. Her long hair had become so ragged from the blade that it had taken years to regrow. That sort of thing didn’t happen now that she’d switched to a thigh sheath. In fact, she’d become quite the expert at killing vamps. The thought should have made her happy. When it didn’t, she realized how tired she was, and how much she’d rather stay in with a hot cup of tea tonight. She chastised herself for that kind of self-pity, and reminded herself that she did it for Alan. That he deserved justice. And when a tiny voice asked what that meant, how many vampires would have to die before his ghost was put to rest, she shut down every thought except one.
The sun was down, the vampires were out, and it was time to hunt.
QUINN STRETCHED in the uncomfortable bed, reminding himself, as he had every night since they’d arrived in Howth, that he needed to buy a new one. He’d bought the house partially furnished. It was a convenience, though none of the furnishings were to his taste. As he’d told Ronan Ivers, he was a modern man through and through. He appreciated the beauty and value of old things, but he didn’t want them in his home. Bad enough that he was becoming an old thing, he didn’t need to be surrounded by them. Even if he’d never look any older than the 32 years he’d lived as a human.
“Garrick!” he called as he opened the bedroom door.
“Yeah, I know.” His cousin’s dry response came from down the hall. “Remind you to get a new bed.”
Quinn growled and headed for the shower. The house had four bedrooms and three bathrooms. More than enough for two bachelor vampires, but, spoiled American that he was, he would have preferred an ensuite bath, so that he wouldn’t have to step into the hallway in all his sleep-disheveled glory just to take a piss. So, call him a grouch. He’d never been a morning person. It was a personality trait which had apparently transferred itself from sunrise to sunset upon his rebirth as a vampire. And on top of that, he really missed the caffeine rush of morning coffee. Vampires didn’t benefit from caffeine. Their bodies were no longer able to metabolize it, but like many vampires, Quinn still drank it for the taste. It was a holdover from his human life, especially the years he’d spent in law school, and then, even worse, the time he’d spent climbing the corporate ladder at the big law firm who’d recruited him right out of school. He’d claimed a generous salary, even as junior associate, but the hours had been killer. This new coffee routine stabilized him, but he really missed the thrill of that first caffeine jolt.
He leaned into the shower and turned on the water, letting it run hot. The shower, at least, had been updated, along with the rest of the plumbing in the old house. It was the reason he’d bought the place. Well, that and the fire sale price, because the previous owner had been promoted to a position on the continent. He’d been eager to sell, and Quinn had been offering cash. It was a match made in heaven. Or hell.
He stood under the pounding, hot spray and considered what to do with his night. Garrick would be driving over to Dublin proper to do some light scouting, under clear orders not to engage or endanger himself in any way. His cousin was good at blending in, listening while others talked, and stepping into the shadows, despite his substantial size. People, humans and vampires alike, tended to underestimate him, mistaking his preference for silence as an absence of thought. In reality, Garrick was quite brilliant, his mind sharp as an edged blade, his body a honed weapon. All of which made him an excellent scout.
And while his cousin would be prowling the streets of Dublin, Quinn would be doing the same here in Howth, which was one of Dublin’s outer suburbs. To all appearances, it was a quiet fishing village on Dublin Bay. It claimed a fair number of tourist attractions—old castles, beautiful hillsides, lovely bayside location, and the like—but at night, the sidewalks rolled up and the vampires took over. Few tourists, or even residents, seemed to be aware of just how many vampires there were in Howth.
Quinn, on the other hand, had made it his business to know exactly that. Orren Sorley, the current Lord of Ireland, was into a lot of shady commerce, just as his predecessor had been. Sorley had done very little to change or improve the vampire economy of Ireland, taking on the various businesses he’d inherited with the title and letting them carry forth with barely a notice by anyone, other than the former lord’s closest allies, all of whom were now dead and dusted.
Quinn had been surprised to discover just how much illegal trade came through Howth’s small port on the average night. During the day, it was a thriving fishing village. At night, it became a smuggler’s paradise. A vampire smuggler’s paradise. The ships that slipped into the harbor after dark wouldn’t be recognized by any of Howth’s hardworking fishermen. The smugglers started arriving around midnight and were long gone by the time the early rising denizens of Howth were beginning their day.
Quinn had assumed, based on everything he’d been able to discover from the official police files, that Dublin Port, in the city, was the center of Ireland’s drug trade. After all, Dublin was Sorley’s home base. It made sense that he’d want to keep his cash cow close at hand. But that wasn’t the reality. Not to say there weren’t plenty of drugs coming in through Dublin Port, but there was also a lot of competition. Ten gangs controlled the vast majority of the drug trade coming into the main port, and only two of them were Vampire. Not long before Sorley killed him, Lord Tiege had decided he’d be better off establishing a new route, rather than trying to compete in Dublin Port. And once he’d added guns to the smuggling business in Howth, Ireland’s vampires had a nice, profitable income stream, albeit an illegal one. But then, there had always been, and would always be, a lot of money to be made in smuggling. Today it was drugs and guns, tomorrow it would be something else. Quinn’s only decision was how much he wanted to invest in smuggling as a major source of income for Irish vampires. The answer was not much, but he couldn’t change it overnight, either. Too many vampires derived their main income from smuggling and were either unqualified or unwilling to try anything else. But over time, Quinn intended to bring his new territory into the light, so to speak. Not the light of the sun, but of legitimacy. He’d made a hell of a lot of money during his years as a corporate litigator, had made even more investing it over the years since he’d been made a vampire. And now, he was willing to put his money where his mouth was, willing to invest his own wealth into Ireland’s future.
But first, he had to become Lord of Ireland. And to do that, he’d have to sink into the depraved depths of the current vampire economy. Which was why he now owned a home in Howth.
“You ready?” Garrick asked, sometime later, when Quinn descended to the first floor.
“No,” Quinn replied sourly, then grinned. “Yes. Remember what I told you. No heroics. You’re there to reconnoiter only.”
“Yeah, yeah. You worry too much.”
“That’s because you’re the only family I have,” Quinn said in a moment of seriousness.
Garrick paused with his jacket halfway on and studied him. “It’s going to be okay, Q. You can do this, you know.”
Quinn grinned. “Don’t I know it. All right, we meet back here two hours before sunrise to compare notes and decide what’s next.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. You’re like an old woman.”
“That’s Lord old woman to you, asshole.”
Garrick laughed and pulled open the front door as Quinn followed him outside. Garrick scowled at the nondescript mid-sized sedan sitting the driveway. “You could at least have gotten me a decent car.”
“This one will blend, which is your job, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah. You sure you’ll be okay on your own here?”
Quinn gave him a dry look. “I’ll manage.”
Garrick punched his arm hard enough to hurt. “See you in a bit.” He pulled open the car door and slid into the driver’s seat, and then cruised down the drive and onto the street without another glance.
Quinn rubbed his arm. He’d never have to worry about becoming too arrogant in his lordship. Not with Garrick around. His cousin would always see him as simply Quinn, the cousin he’d known all his life. Though he always treated Quinn with careful respect when anyone else was around, because appearances mattered.
He contemplated the simple sedan he’d rented for himself, no happier with it than Garrick had been with his. If appearances mattered, shouldn’t he be driving something better? An elegant and lethal bullet of a car, maybe. “But not tonight, boyo,” he muttered to himself. Tonight, he was haunting the docks of Howth like one of the many ghosts that supposedly plagued the place. And by morning, he intended to be in control of a good part of the district’s illegal trade. It was his first step. Tonight, Howth. In one month . . . all of Ireland.
EVE STEPPED CAREFULLY as she cut through the old graveyard and over to the steep stone stairs that dropped down to the next street level. She’d been taking that shortcut all her life. She and her mates had played in the graveyard when they’d been too young to understand the superstitions of their parents, and had then defied those same superstitions as teenagers, proving their courage by drinking and making out among the old gravestones. When she’d left Howth for university, she’d never intended to return. She’d had big plans for her future, and none of them included the small fishing village where she’d been born.
But then her brother had been murdered, and her plans had changed. She’d come back at first just to stay with her mother for a bit, to set her on her feet since Alan was gone. He’d left Howth for Dublin, too, but he’d been a far better son than Eve had been a daughter. He’d come home every week to visit, sometimes more than once. Of course, his visits with their mother had been far more pleasant than Eve’s. He was the son, the favorite. The only child Brigid Connelly had ever loved.
With her brother gone forever, Eve had stepped up and done her best to take care of her mother. The old woman didn’t give her so much as a smile of thanks, but Eve did it anyway. For Alan’s sake.
At the same time, she’d started researching vampires, reading everything she could find about them online, in magazines and books. From lofty academic tomes to the paparazzi’s gushing reports, she’d read it all, studying every word, scrutinizing every photo. After nearly a year of that, she’d felt ready to return to Dublin and start hunting. But fate had intervened, with her very first hunt.
Howth, 4 years earlier
EVE STROLLED ALONG the deserted dock, hugging herself against the cold and damp night air. She hadn’t intended to walk this far or this long. She’d argued with her mother. Again. They couldn’t be in the same house without going at each other. Hell, they couldn’t be in the same city. Tonight, Eve had informed her mother of her intention to return to Dublin and the university. That last part was a lie. She had no intention of going back to school, but she wasn’t going to tell her mother that, any more than she was going to share her plans to start hunting vampires.
As for tonight and her big announcement, she’d half expected her mother to be relieved that she was leaving. She should have known better. It didn’t matter that Brigid Connelly hadn’t a single kind word for her own daughter, that no matter what Eve did, it was never good enough. Brigid demanded attention, and since Eve was the only child she had left, Brigid’s needs became Eve’s obligation. An obligation she couldn’t fulfill if she lived in Dublin, because they both knew that once Eve left Howth, she’d never come back. Brigid would be on her own, and that was unacceptable. So, Eve’s mother had laid into her tonight, telling her what a thankless daughter she was, comparing her to Alan who’d reached sainted status in their mother’s memory. She’d even gone so far as to predict her own early demise as a direct result of Eve’s neglect. Eve knew her mother far too well to buy into the guilt trip, but it troubled her all the same. She’d long ago stopped expecting affection, but shouldn’t a mother want her child to succeed? Even if only for bragging rights among her friends? Shouldn’t she be happy that Eve was going back to school, making something of herself?
She felt a brief flash of guilt, reminding herself that that part of her story wasn’t true. She was going back to Dublin, and she was going to make something of herself. But it wouldn’t be as a barrister or an accountant. She was going to avenge her brother’s death by destroying as many vampires as she could . . . before they killed her. She had no illusions about living a long life, but she’d take a lot of them with her before she died.
She stepped off Howth’s concrete pier and onto the wooden planks of the dock, wishing she’d worn something other than her new spike-heeled boots, but she needed to become accustomed to walking in them. She’d also taken to wearing the revealing clothes she’d purchased as part of her costume, wanting to get a feel for the way they moved, wanting to be sure she could move if she had to. These were vampires she was hunting—faster, stronger, and probably a whole lot wilier than she was. The outfit showed a lot more skin than was normal for her. It was sexy and form-fitting, and it made her look like vampire bait, which was exactly the point. Everything she’d read said that vampires liked to seduce their victims, that when a vampire fed, it was the best sexual high in the world. Eve didn’t know about that, but she did know that most vampires were male, which meant most of them would be attracted to women.
Eve was confident in her ability to appeal to men. She knew she was pretty. Some men had even called her beautiful. Although they’d wanted to have sex with her, so she took that with a grain of salt. But there was no doubt that men paid attention when she walked by or entered a room. She had a body they liked, with full breasts, a slender waist, and curvy hips. Add in her new vampire killer outfit, with its cleavage baring neckline and short skirt, and she not only looked hot, she looked available.
Of course, her intent was to kill a vampire, not seduce him, so she’d designed a concealed weapon for herself. It was a big knife in a sheath down the center of her back, hidden beneath the fall of her long, thick hair. Her plan was to wait until the vamp was preoccupied with her nearly naked breasts and neck, then pull the blade and stab him somewhere vital. She wasn’t an expert, and didn’t expect that first strike to kill him. But while he was howling in shock, she’d then pull out her second weapon—a slender, but sharp and strong, stake—and stab him in the heart. She’d practiced the maneuver on a dressmaker’s dummy that she’d bought at a thrift shop in Dublin, and felt good about her chances.
But tonight wasn’t supposed to be about killing vampires. She was going to hunt in Dublin, where her brother’s killers lived their shady lives. She’d donned the outfit without thinking, and by the time she’d realized what she’d done, she’d decided to “fuck it.” Her plan had been to offer a dutiful good-bye to her mam, climb into her car, drive to Dublin, and never come back. Her mother’s excessive nastiness had delayed that plan, but it wasn’t completely dead yet.
“Not dead yet, Evie girl,” she muttered to herself. “But it will be if you don’t stop moping around this stupid Howth dock and get your ass on the way to Dublin.”
Deciding to head for the city that same night, she stuck with her route along the wooden dock, since it was the quickest way back to her car, which was parked at her mother’s house. She’d no sooner made that decision, however, than her heel caught between the planks yet again. Cursing as she freed the trapped stiletto, she changed her mind one more time and, walking on her toes, headed back for the sidewalk. It would take longer this way, but at least her expensive new boots would survive the trip. She was nearly there when a burly male with a scruffy beard emerged from the parking lot of a local pub and stepped directly into her path, bumping her so hard she nearly fell.
Eve stared in shocked recognition. Vampire. The thug who’d slammed into her and whose meaty hand was now holding her arm was a vampire, his fangs flashing briefly in the moonlight, before he concealed them behind a closed-lip smile. It was on her tongue to give him a curse and an elbow, and be on her way, just as she’d done with a hundred different guys before. But this was it. Her first real vampire. If she failed now . . .
Her heart was pounding, her mouth too dry to speak. She glanced around. “Not here, girl,” she told herself. A nearly full moon was lighting the dock, gleaming off the still waters of the harbor. And the pub behind the vampire was full of people and maybe more vamps. Someone could walk out at any minute and see what she was up to.
She smiled at her captor, making no attempt to free her arm. “Thank you,’ she said breathily. “These heels are sweet, but, I swear, they’re going to kill me.” She smiled again, clamping down hard on the shudder that tried to rock her body.
“Where you hurrying off to, lass?” he asked, his accent strong, his voice as deep as his chest. “Come inside, have a pint.”
“Oh,” she breathed, leaning in so that her breasts brushed his chest. “I’d love to, but I can’t stay. I’m driving back to Dublin tonight. I’ve a job to get to.”
“Well, then, let me at least walk with you a bit. So you don’t fall again,” he added with a sly look.
“Well . . .” Eve pretended her indecision. Should she agree to walk into the dark with this perfect, and very big, stranger? Or decline and stumble away on her own? No decision, really. “I hate to take you from your friends—”
“They’ll wait,” the vampire said brusquely, then shifted his grip from her arm to her body, dropping his hand to circle her back and grip her side just below the curve of her breast. Using his hold to get her moving, he hustled her away from the crowded pub and up the hill to the deserted street.
Eve almost panicked. His forearm around her back was pressed right against her knife. What if he discovered the thick leather sheath? What if he pulled her knife and used it against her? She’d have nothing but a sharp stick with which to defend herself!
His thick fingers moved, stroking the underside of her breast through her shirt. “You’re lucky I found you,” he murmured. “You’re far too pretty to be walking alone. Not with vampires lurking about.”
Eve saw her chance. Stopping dead in her tracks, she turned to face him. “Vampires?” she asked, pretending shock. “There are vampires in Howth? Real ones?”
He laughed. “Is there some other kind?” He pulled her close and shoved her into the narrow, empty space between two buildings. The stores were all closed, the buildings dark. There was no one around to witness what he was about to do. But then, no one would be there to witness what she did either. He slammed her back against a rough wall, using his weight to keep her there. “I deserve a reward for being such a gentleman,” he muttered and bent his head to the swell of her half-naked breasts. He licked the delicate skin along the line of her leather top, then probed even farther, digging his tongue beneath the leather to curl around her nipple.
Eve grimaced in disgust. When she’d set herself up as bait, she hadn’t considered that it would mean getting up close and personal with the vampires before she killed them. And contrary to belief, not all vampires were swoon-worthy romantic hero types. She supposed even the pig currently rooting against her breasts would be considered good-looking, but there was the matter of personal hygiene. She fought the urge to gag and concentrated instead on figuring out a way to reach her knife. Moaning theatrically, she shoved against him, hoping he’d think she simply wanted to get closer to his slobbering mouth. As if. He bought it, though. Giving a grunt of satisfaction, he yanked her against his chest, putting a few precious inches between her back and the stone wall.
She reached over her shoulder and slid her hand beneath her hair. Her fingers closed around the hilt of the blade, and—She gasped as he suddenly yanked her top down, tearing the leather as if it was paper and baring her breast completely to the night air. Before she could voice a protest, he growled in satisfaction and closed his mouth over her nipple. She jerked at the feel of his teeth against the sensitive bud, followed hard (no pun intended) by the press of his erection against her belly. It was everything she could do to stop herself from kneeing him in the bollocks. She wasn’t a good enough actress for this.
Closing her eyes, she sucked in a long breath and reminded herself why she was there, why her back was scraped against the rough stone, why her naked breast was hanging out for the world to see, and, dear God, why this animal had his mouth on her tit and his cock against her body.
She reached over her shoulder, closed her fingers over the hilt, and slid the knife from its sheath. She’d practiced that maneuver a million times. The blade came out smoothly and felt good in her hand. She swallowed hard. She’d never killed. Not even a chicken, much less a man.
But this isn’t a man, she reminded herself. Looking down she eyed the angles. She’d have one chance to get this right. Gripping the blade in her right hand, she slid her fingers up on the leather-wrapped hilt until they were nearly touching the blade . . . and then she struck.
Something must have warned the creature in the instant of her attack, because his head came up, fangs bared, his teeth leaving a bloody furrow in her breast. Eve bit back her scream and followed through, slicing the sharp edge of the blade through the taut skin of his neck, his own movement adding pressure to the strike as he raised his head to stop her. Eve had done her homework. She needed to hit an artery, needed to see the blood pump, not gush. An instant later, she screamed as blood burst from the wound, covering her everywhere. The vampire shoved her away, a big meaty hand going to the side of his neck, as he rose to his full height, eyes glaring red fire, fangs dripping with his own blood as he glared down at her.
Eve dropped the knife, ignoring the sharp bite of pain as it skimmed over her thigh. Her hand went to a pocket sewn into the seam of her skirt, fingers closing around the sharpened stake waiting there. Her skin was too slick, too covered with blood. The vampire roared and smashed her against the wall as she wiped her hand frantically on her skirt, her fingers finally finding enough traction to grab the stake, to lift it. Twisting her hair in one hand, he slammed her head hard against the brick and yanked it to one side. His mouth came down, his fangs pierced her neck, and Eve struck with all her strength.
She stood frozen, every muscle locked, her entire body trembling in shock as the vampire disintegrated right in front of her. When she finally moved, it was to bend over and throw up, retching until there was nothing but bile burning her throat as her stomach wrenched in fear and disgust over and over. The hand she raised to wipe her mouth was shaking so hard that she crushed her lip against a tooth, opening up a fresh flow of blood.
She dropped her hand to one side, shuddering when she saw the dusting of gray ash that seemed to cover every inch of her. Stifling a horrified shriek, she began slapping frantically at her breasts and shoulders, her legs . . . her hair. She thought she’d throw up all over again, but though her stomach revolted, there was nothing left.
Fighting back the urge to curl up in a ball and sob, she forced herself to think. To move. This vampire hadn’t been alone. She was sure of that. The pub had been crowded, and he’d talked about his friends . . . hadn’t he? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t think. She just knew she had to get away from there. Had to get away from this pile of dust and mud before some other vampire came along and realized what had happened. Her eyes went wide. Vampires had telepathy. What if his friends sensed he’d been killed and came after her?
That thought jolted her into action. She hurried down the quiet street, covering her naked breast with one hand, laughing at herself for the gesture. She was covered in blood. If anyone saw her, a naked tit would be the least of her worries.
Her car was parked behind her mother’s house. She’d fully intended to go back inside after a walk to cool off. But that was out of the question now. Her mother would have to wait. There was nothing left to say anyway.
The lights were off in the house when she finally stumbled to her car, every muscle quivering in fatigue and aftershock. Her purse was already inside, her key fob tucked down into her boot. She retrieved it with shaking fingers and clicked it once to unlock her small sedan. It wasn’t anything fancy. It was old, with none of the bells and whistles of the better models. But it had been Alan’s once, the only thing of his that had gone to her. Her mother had demanded Eve turn it over, even though she had no need for a car, not even a driving license. But Eve had refused. The car was all she’d had left of the brother she loved, and she was going to need it in her quest for revenge.
A light flicked on in the house when she started the engine. Her mother. Awakened no doubt by the combination of the alarm’s beep when she’d unlocked the car and the engine noise. Eve saw a curtain stir, but she ignored it and pulled away into the alley.
She was halfway to Dublin before she stopped trembling enough to consider her night’s work. She’d learned a lot from this first—and what easily could have been her last—encounter with a vampire. To begin with, the sheath down her back had been a stupid idea. It looked good and felt dangerous and sexy, but it wasn’t functional. All it had taken was for the vampire to put his arm around her—something that was bound to happen again—and her main weapon had been useless. Not to mention when he’d pressed her against the wall. That would almost certainly occur again, whether on a dark street or in a club. How many times had she seen a man press a woman against a wall in a darkened club, kissing and groping, while the music pounded? Hell, she’d been the woman against the wall more than once.
And the damn knife was too big. She hadn’t considered that she and the vampire were likely to be body to body. After all, seduction was her first weapon, right? So, there was bound to be more—she swallowed hard—sexual contact. Not actual sex. But more touching and, ew, licking, like what had happened earlier. She ran careful fingers over the crusty fang marks on her breast, touched her neck which was sore and bruised around the twin puncture marks where he’d barely pierced the skin of her neck. Wounds like that were likely to happen again. Maybe worse. Maybe the next vampire would manage to pierce her vein, to suck her blood. She shuddered, but the reality was unavoidable.
“Deal with it, Eve,” she said, talking out loud in the empty car. She yawned without warning. Another aftershock effect. Adrenaline crash. Just a few kilometers more, and she’d be home. She shook her head, trying to wake up . . . and frowned. Something was weird. She reached back, wondering if she’d cut herself when she’d pulled the blade out, or maybe put it back in. Half her back felt cold, and her head was too light . . .
“Oh fuck,” she gasped, her car nearly swerving into the next lane as she felt the back of her head. She brought her hand back, gripping the wheel with both hands as she groaned out loud. A bunch of her hair was gone. She could feel some of the sheared off bits now, covering her shoulders. Could this night get any worse? Her first hunt and what a fucking disaster! The only good thing was she’d managed to kill a vampire.
She frowned. Okay, so that was good. Very good. She nodded to herself. She could get a new knife, could ditch the stupid sheath and come up with something better. And her hair would grow back.
But that vampire—that fucking, evil monster—would never kill again.
She smiled for the first time that night. Finally, there would be justice for her brother. No, not justice. Revenge.
Howth, Ireland, present day
QUINN SAT INSIDE the small dockside café, thinking about the cold. He’d forgotten about the winters around Dublin. Sure, it got cold—fucking cold—in New England, where he’d lived and worked for the last several decades. But no one sat around cafés, sipping tea in the middle of the night and staring out at empty marinas, either. If there was any sitting around the marina, it was in a dark bar with good whiskey and a big wide-screen TV. He sighed and signaled for another pot of tea. His reasons for being in Howth had nothing to do with the weather, and everything to do with an uptick in late night boat traffic. That and gossip in the blood houses of Dublin that Lord Sorley was using Howth like a private yacht club—running shipments of guns, and even some drugs, into the seaside suburb on regular fishing boats. In fact, from what Quinn could tell from the several nights he’d sat in this very accommodating café, at least some of the boats bringing in contraband at night were being used for fishing during the day. He hadn’t been able to ascertain if the owners knew about the illicit use of their boats, but he wouldn’t be surprised. Smuggling paid well, and everyone could use a few extra Euros these days.
He turned to greet the lovely waitress who was delivering his fresh pot of tea, admiring the lush curves beneath her practical uniform, and giving her a smile that brought a lovely pink flush to her creamy Irish skin. “Thank you, love,” he crooned. She rewarded him with a smile that belied the tiredness in her eyes. “Are you off soon?” he asked, brushing his fingers over hers on the tea pot.
Her blush heated further, and she ducked her head shyly. “Aye. Only another fifteen or so.” She caught her breath. “Unless you need me to stay, sir.”
“No, you go on home. I’ll probably be here again tomorrow. We can talk then. And call me Quinn.”
She smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Quinn. And I’m Cassidy.”
Fifteen minutes later, the curvy Cassidy waved as she hurried out into the night, leaving Quinn behind in the unlocked café, as if he owned the place. And maybe he did. He’d made a variety of investments in Howth, and hadn’t had a chance yet to match every one of his records with a physical building. He was winking at Cassidy as she passed the big window, when the sudden flash of a white hull on the dark water drew his attention.
With a flick of power, he darkened every light in the building, so that by the time the boat slid close enough to be picked up by the few dock lights on their skinny poles, there was nothing to draw their attention to the empty café.
Quinn waited, and right on schedule, two vampires strolled out onto the wooden dock. They were both in thick with Orrin Sorley. Not a part of his innermost circle, but definitely close to it and well trusted. Quinn’s goal in Howth was to bring himself to Sorley’s attention. Unfortunately for those vampires out there, the vampire way of moving up was to kill everyone who stood in your way. Lucky for them, he wasn’t ready to make his move yet. They’d live another night, maybe two. But no more than that. Quinn could hear the clock ticking in his head. He had a timetable, and those two would die. But not tonight.
Outside, the vampires exchanged a few friendly words with each other, while they stood side by side, waiting and watching, along with the unseen Quinn, as the boat slipped silently past several of the marina’s floating docks. Finally, the engine reversed as the smuggler slowed and turned, making it obvious which dock slip he was aiming for.
The two vampires strode down to meet it, walking right past the window where Quinn sat in the dark. He wasn’t worried about being seen. For all their success at smuggling, the local vampires were very lax about security. He assumed this was because they’d bought off the local authorities, and no one else was stupid enough to challenge them. It wasn’t a matter of cowardice, it was one of survival. If a local citizen challenged the vamps’ right to do business in Howth, that person—man or woman—would only end up dead. Quinn never blamed ordinary people for choosing to survive. It was the authorities he criticized—the men and women who sucked on the taxpayer’s teat, and who’d sworn to obey the law and serve the community, only to take bribes and look the other way, no matter how heinous the crime. Those fuckers deserved to rot in hell.
He grimaced, disliking his own thoughts. Too many years in the American legal system had jaded him when it came to the blind wisdom of Lady Justice.
He turned his attention back to the current criminal endeavor. He had an excellent view, since the boat had come into dock just slightly left of the café. Shifting his chair back from the window a bit, he put himself into a deeper shadow, lest one of the smugglers happen to look the wrong way. The two male vamps exchanged a few words with the human running the boat. A bulging envelope of cash traded hands, the captain called down below decks, and then another human emerged to begin passing sealed cases up to the two local vamps. The unloading went quickly. There were only five of the medium-sized cases, and once they were all sitting on the floating dock, the boat quickly maneuvered out of the slip and back into the harbor. Quinn wasn’t at the right angle to see where it went next, whether to some other slip within the harbor, or out beyond the breakwater, but that wasn’t his concern. The cases had been too small to carry enough guns to make the trip worthwhile, which meant the shipment was probably drugs. Most likely methamphetamine, since that was where the greatest profits lay. Quinn wanted to know where the smuggled goods went next. Did Sorley’s people drive the delivery directly to Dublin, to be cut and distributed? Or was there a local distributor who dealt with Dublin’s many suburbs? For that matter, was it raw product? Or already cut and packed for sale?
And when the fuck had he become an expert on the illegal drug trade? The answer to that was simple. He wasn’t. Which was why he was in Howth. How to be a drug lord in three simple steps. Frankly, he had no interest in becoming a drug kingpin, but change took time. If his plan for the Irish vampire community worked out, he hoped to eliminate drug smuggling as a vamp enterprise within a decade—an instant in time for a vampire. But for now, it was an important part of the vampire economy, so he needed to know how it worked. Because the first step on his road to becoming Lord of Ireland was to insinuate himself into Sorley’s inner circle by taking over what was an important part of the vampire lord’s business—the Howth smuggling operation.
The sound of raised voices drew his attention outside the window, where there seemed to be trouble in paradise. The two vampires, who’d been so chatty before, now appeared to be having a difference of opinion about how best to move the newly arrived goods off the dock. The bigger of the two vamps lifted a single case, as if weighing it. And from the ease of his lift, Quinn would guess it didn’t weigh much. Not for a vampire, anyway. But the vamp’s buddy seemed to disagree. He clearly wanted to fetch a dolly or some other wheeled conveyance and move all five cases at once.
Quinn sided with the big guy. They were vampires, for fuck’s sake. They could carry all of that in a single trip. They didn’t need a fucking dolly. Maybe the question had to do with leaving one vamp alone with the drugs, while the other brought the cart. Maybe they didn’t trust each other. Or were they concerned about a competitor’s attack? After all, the reason they were doing this in Howth was to circumvent the gangs who controlled the drug trade in Dublin.
An unhappy thought suddenly occurred to him. Did they know, or suspect, that he was hanging around? Was that why they were reluctant to split up? He frowned. He was confident no one knew he was in the country, other than the people who’d helped him get there. But it never paid to be overconfident. He didn’t know everyone who’d helped him, or who’d helped them. There could easily be an informant at work.
The two vamps were still arguing, and Quinn was contemplating going out there and killing them both, just to get the night over with, when they abruptly stopped arguing and turned to grin at something out of his line of sight. Quinn changed position within the dark café just in time to catch the completely unexpected arrival of a sexy redheaded female. Human, no doubt about it. And what the hell was she doing out there alone at this time of night, and dressed the way she was?
From the top of her red head to the tips of her shiny leather boots, and everything in between, she practically screamed vampire bait. The theme of the night was black leather, with a faux fur collar on her black leather jacket adding a flirtatious note to the outfit. And that’s exactly what she was doing, flirting with the two hulking vampires. The woman clearly had seduction in mind, and Quinn couldn’t help wondering what the fuck she was thinking. But, his two vampire thugs seemed more than willing to be seduced.
Placing a coy hand on one thuggish chest, the woman said something short and to the point, then smiled and walked away. Two hard gazes swiveled to watch the sway of her hips until she disappeared into a narrow alleyway where it headed up the hill to intersect with Howth’s main street—where all the storefronts were closed and shuttered for the night. There would be no one around. No witnesses.
The two vampires clearly came to the same conclusion. Drugs forgotten, they exchanged quick grins and, all but flashing fang in their eagerness, took off after her. Oddly enough, the ease with which the two vamps had left the smuggled goods sitting on the dock reassured Quinn that Sorley’s people didn’t know he was in Howth and watching their every move. But his biggest concern right now was the woman being pursued by the two very large vampires. If she was lucky, they’d feed while fucking her senseless, and maybe leave some money on the dresser. If she was unlucky, they’d still fuck her, but her body would be found bloodless and floating in the harbor.
Quinn told himself it was none of his business. The woman had invited the pursuit, and even if she hadn’t known the two males were vampires, they were still obviously bad news. But a moment later, he was pushing his chair back. His mother hadn’t raised him to leave even clueless women to their fates. Abandoning his fresh pot of tea, and cursing himself for a fool with every step, he took off after them.
He slowed when he neared the alley. He had enough functioning brain cells for that. What he was calling an “alley” was simply a very narrow passage that climbed the steep hill between one street and the next. Stuck between two very old buildings, it was too narrow for any kind of vehicle, barely wide enough for walking, and too dark for most humans to feel safe at night. There was no light of any kind in there, no lit windows, no public lamps, just old brick walls, lots of dirt, and an overflowing garbage bin or two thrown in for good measure. He frowned. Why the hell would a woman alone walk this way? And where the hell was she?
A familiar scent abruptly wafted through the air. Blood. And something else that had his fangs trying to slide over his lower lip, uncaring of who saw. Forcing his fangs under control and out of sight, he drew a deeper breath and scowled, just as the young woman tripped into sight from the deepest, darkest part of the alley, the spiked heels of her leather boots—so impractical on the uneven streets and wooden docks—making it difficult for her to gain a firm foothold as she hurried back down the steep incline. Her gaze was focused on the rough surface beneath her feet and the shadows all around, so she didn’t notice him at first. But then her survival instincts finally kicked in, and she looked up sharply, realizing that she wasn’t alone. She raised a hand, and his vampire sight caught the gleam of a blade covered in blood. And not just any blood, but vampire blood, which would dust tomorrow morning in the sunlight, but for now remained very much red and wet. It wasn’t the blood that drew his attention, however. It was that other scent, the one that had brought every one of his defensive instincts to high alert.
The woman was covered in dust. Dust that had been two vampires before they’d followed her into that alley.
Quinn stared. What the fuck?