14

John awoke mid-afternoon, too early to leave the house—and with a hard-on the size of California. No wonder: he’d dreamed of Savannah, of how her dark skin would glisten with perspiration when he made love to her until she could take no more. Continuing those kinds of thoughts while awake did nothing to bring down his erection.

Cursing, he jumped out of bed and walked into the bathroom. The house he’d bought shortly after joining Scanguards was located in Noe Valley, a family-oriented central neighborhood of San Francisco, conveniently located close to Scanguards’ headquarters. It wasn’t large: three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a small kitchen with dining area, and a decent sized living room.

He’d chosen the house because it was surrounded by a lush garden with mature trees and bushes, providing privacy and shade. In addition, the garage underneath the raised first floor had stairs leading directly into the living quarters, an essential feature for any vampire who wanted to have the freedom of coming and going during daylight hours.

In hindsight, he should have chosen a different neighborhood, one where he wouldn’t hear as many kids playing outside in the afternoon, after they returned from school. Their voices and laughter were what normally woke him early, reminding him of what he could have had, a family of his own.

Today his sensitive hearing didn’t pick up any kids’ voices. It wasn’t what had awoken him. He knew the vivid dream about Savannah was the culprit this time. Maybe a cold shower would bring him to his senses again.

Naked, John stepped into the shower and turned on the water. He turned into the spray and allowed the cold water to hit him. But no matter how much of it he directed toward his cock, the damn thing wouldn’t deflate.

“Fuck,” he cursed and slammed his fist against the tile wall, cracking one of the fifties era tiles. Well, he needed to update the bathroom anyway. No big deal. But letting his frustrations out on the bathroom tiles wouldn’t help him with his current predicament. Only one thing would: taking the matter into his own hand.

So he succumbed to his primal need and gripped his cock with his right hand. Bracing himself against the shower wall with his left, he began to stroke himself, to pump his erection hard and fast. He let out a few breaths of air. He’d denied himself for too long, denied himself the pleasures of the flesh. That’s why he was so on edge. That’s why he had to do this now before he saw Savannah again, before he put his hands on her and pressed her against a flat surface to take her, to ram his cock into her sweet pussy and make her understand what he was: an animal, a beast, a vampire.

Yes, he wanted her to know, wanted to see the expression in her eyes when she perceived his fangs and the red glow in his eyes that surfaced only when the vampire inside him gained control.

Just like his fangs were descending now, while he ran his hand up and down his cock, squeezing and releasing, softer now, the way a woman would do it. The way Savannah would do it, pumping him with her soft hands before she would fall to her knees so she could swipe her moist tongue over the swollen tip of his cock and make him groan with pleasure.

Her luscious lips wrapped around him, bathing him in warm moisture. A hand cradled his balls, balls that had pulled up tightly, balls that were burning with the need to release their seed. A fingernail scratched gently against the tight sac, while her mouth took him deep, engulfing him in paradise. At first, she sucked on him almost playfully, but when he thrust harder into her mouth, she got the message and sucked him with more determination, harder and faster. The contrast of her dark skin against his white complexion was pure perfection. A perfect yin and yang, the dark and the light complementing each other, meant for each other. Interconnected, interdependent, indivisible. A duality, a oneness that nature had created. And man could never destroy.

He felt the pressure in his balls build, the hand on his cock squeezing harder, moving faster, the hand cradling his balls sending a tingling sensation through his body. His pulse was racing now, his heart beating faster than it ever had. He felt the approach of his orgasm, knew it was time to let go of his control, let go of the fantasy that had brought him to this point. He concentrated on one more image, on Savannah lifting her eyes to gaze up at him from her kneeling position, a look of love and lust in her eyes.

He came right there and then. His semen exploded from the tip of his cock and shot against the tile wall, running down in hot, thick streaks. He let out a sigh of relief. Maybe now, he would be able to get through the coming night and be able to concentrate on what he had to do.

He showered quickly, dried off, and got dressed. A look at the clock told him that the sun hadn’t gone down yet. But it didn’t matter. He would drive to his office anyway. Deirdre would still be there, and he could review the things she’d dug up in the meantime. The fact that she hadn’t called him yet, probably meant that she hadn’t found anything significant so far. Which was good and bad. Good, because it meant there was nothing in Savannah’s life that raised any red flags, and bad, because it meant there were no leads to follow.

It took only twenty minutes to get to Scanguards’ headquarters in the Mission, and another three to reach his office. He entered it without knocking.

Deirdre shrieked and shot up from the desk. When her eyes landed on him, she scolded him, “Damn it, you startled me. Could have told me you were coming!”

John shut the door behind him. “Didn’t mean to.” He stopped short of apologizing. After all, this was his office, not hers. Hell, she didn’t have an office. She wasn’t even really authorized to be here.

Deirdre sat down again. “I was gonna call you in a minute anyway.”

Interest made him approach the desk and glance at the computer monitor. “You found something?”

“I think so.”

His heart pounded. The way Deirdre was looking at him made him uneasy. As if she’d found something incriminating in Savannah’s background.

“Come on, Deirdre, don’t make me pull it out of your nose.”

“Remind me not to choose you as my boss,” she hissed.

He narrowed his eyes. “Like it or not, I am your boss. For now.”

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely…”

“Has anybody ever told you that your attitude stinks?”

“Has anybody ever told you that you’re impatient?” she shot back, then smirked unexpectedly. “Though I can’t blame you.” She motioned to the computer. “I don’t think you have any time to lose. Savannah Rice took a large amount of cash out of her bank account a few hours ago. It only updated in the online system a few minutes ago, that’s why I didn’t see it earlier. I was about to sign off, but when I saw how much money she’s got, I wanted to keep an eye on it.”

John stared at Deirdre. “How much money did she take out?”

“Two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars.”

“In cash?”

“Yes, cold, hard cash.”

“Fuck!” he cursed. “There’s only one reason why she would do that.”

“That’s why I was about to call you. She must have received a ransom note. And now she’s going to pay the kidnappers.”

John pulled his cell phone from his pocket and looked at it. “No missed calls, no text messages.” Why hadn’t Savannah called him? He pulled up her number and pressed the call button. It rang, once, twice, three times, then a fourth time, before it went to voicemail.

“This is Savannah Rice. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you at my earliest convenience.”

Beep.

“Savannah, where are you? I need to talk to you. I know about the money. Please call me!”

He disconnected, then sent her a text message with the same plea.

“Something’s not right,” Deirdre said.

He knew that already. “A lot of things aren’t right. She shouldn’t have received a ransom note. None of the other parents have.”

“Then maybe her case isn’t connected to the others?”

John shook his head. “No, they’re connected. Somehow. I just haven’t found out how yet.” But he had no time to discuss this now. “I need to find Savannah. Now.”

“Her cell phone is on, I’ll see if I can get access to her GPS,” Deirdre offered.

“Good,” he agreed, already heading for the door. “I’m trying her flat. Call me as soon as you have a location for me.”

He didn’t even wait for Deirdre’s reply and instead raced out the door and down the hallway. The thought that Savannah was meeting the kidnappers on her own, sent a chill down his spine. What if something went wrong?

Arriving at his car, John jumped in and raced out of the parking garage. It was rush hour traffic now. The Mission was a congested area at the best of times; during rush hour it was murder.

“Come on, you idiots,” John yelled at the other drivers. But it did no good. All it served was to aggravate him even more.

Besides, what would he do once he arrived at Savannah’s flat? The sun still had not set. He hated that it was summer, when the days were longer, giving him less time to move around freely. It would be another hour until the sun set and he would be safe to leave the protective cocoon of his specially modified car.

But he couldn’t think that far ahead right now. First, he had to get to Savannah’s place, or to wherever Deirdre found her cell phone. Impatiently, he activated the hands-free communication in his car and pressed Deirdre’s number.

She answered instantly. “Yes?”

“Have you got the location?”

“I’m working on it,” she said tersely. “You interrupting me isn’t going to make it happen any faster.”

A click in the line. Deirdre had hung up on him.

“Fuck!” But he wasn’t even angry at Deirdre or her attitude, but at the circumstances he found himself in: stuck in traffic unable to get to Savannah any faster than a snail crawling across a patch of grass.

He tried Savannah’s phone again, but it simply rang, then went to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message this time.

He wasn’t sure what was bothering him more: that Savannah was trying to meet with the kidnapper on her own, or that he hadn’t seen this coming. It made him feel helpless, and he hated that feeling.

Knowing it would take him at least another fifteen minutes to reach Savannah’s flat, he dialed Damian’s number. It rang twice, before Damian picked up.

“Where are you?”

“Just getting to Glen Park. Why?”

“Shit!” Damian was even farther away from Savannah’s neighborhood than he was. “Do you have eyes on Alexi?”

“Yep, he just stopped at a hardware store. There he is, coming out again. Why?”

“Stay on him. I have reason to believe Savannah just received a ransom note.”

“Huh? I thought you said we’re dealing with a child trafficking ring. Are you changing the rules on us?”

“This is real, Damian! A real case. Get that?” John slammed his hand against the steering wheel and honked at an idiot driver in front of him. “Don’t lose Alexi. If he’s behind the kidnapping, he’ll be preparing for the money drop.”

“Uh-oh,” Damian let out.

“What?”

“He bought some rope and duct tape in the hardware store.”

“Oh, shit! Follow him, no matter where he goes. Have Benjamin back you up.”

“You got it.”

John disconnected the call, saw an opening ahead of him and passed the indecisive driver blocking his progress. He managed to drive one block before he had to avoid another obstacle. At the next light, he turned left before the oncoming traffic had a chance to make it into the intersection, and finally, followed by angry honking, escaped the worst of the traffic jam.

He used his knowledge of the city’s shortcuts to avoid more bottlenecks and finally reached Lower Pacific Heights.

A few more blocks, and he turned into the side street where Savannah’s flat was located. All looked quiet from the outside. He saw no light in the front rooms, but then, it was too early to need light inside: the sun was still up, even though it was foggy here, foggier than in the Mission or his own neighborhood. He was glad for it, because at least the fog would help shield him a little.

John drove as close to the front steps of Savannah’s duplex as he could and stopped the car. From the glove compartment, he retrieved a small leather etui and shoved it into his inside pocket. Then he checked behind his seat, and to his relief, the old blanket he’d tossed there a few nights earlier to give to the next homeless person he encountered, was still there. He pulled it out and wrapped it around his torso, covering his head and shoulders, and holding it closed under his chin.

“Here we go,” he murmured to himself and opened the door.

He jumped out of the car as fast as he could, slammed the door shut and sprinted to the stairs. Already he could feel the UV-rays heating his body, though it was not as bad as being exposed on a sunny day. He reached the front steps and sprinted up to where two front doors were located. He now had a ceiling above him, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet, because the sunlight could still penetrate the otherwise protected space from the street.

John hit the doorbell, but didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he pulled the leather etui from his pocket, took out a lock pick, and went to work. He hunched over the lock, making sure his head and shoulders were covered by the blanket and his broad body was shielding his hands from sunlight. But he could feel heat on the back of his calves, which were only covered by the thin cloth of his cargo pants. They didn’t provide much protection, and he knew he would sustain burns there. But he didn’t care. He would heal. He’d sustained worse burns before and survived.

Finally, the lock clicked. He shoved the door open, rushed inside, and slammed it shut behind him. Sighing a breath of relief, he paused for a brief second, letting the dark interior of the staircase soothe him.

He listened. No sound came from the flat above. Savannah would have heard the door being slammed, yet there was no reaction. It only confirmed what he already suspected. That he was too late.

John ascended the stairs and entered the hallway. He still wore the blanket around his shoulders, because the light entering from the windows in the kitchen and the front of the house, where the living room was located, could still burn him.

Without calling out for her, he moved from room to room, first the bathroom, then Savannah’s bedroom in the middle of the house—the darkest room—then Buffy’s room and the kitchen. Nothing. She wasn’t there. He marched back to where he’d entered, then continued into the living room. It was brightest there. A large bay window let in the sun’s UV-rays. John shielded his face as best he could, when his cell phone suddenly rang. He walked back into the hallway and the shade it provided and answered.

“What have you got for me?”

“She must be at home,” Deirdre answered.

“I’m in her flat. She isn’t here.”

“Her phone is. Let me call it.”

There was a brief pause, then John heard the ringing of a cell phone coming from the living room.

“I hear it.” He marched back into the living room and saw the cell phone on the coffee table. Next to it lay several items: an envelope, a letter, and a picture. He grabbed all of them and hurried back into the hallway.

“Call you back,” he said to Deirdre and disconnected the call.

He recognized the person in the picture immediately: Buffy. He also realized what the photo signified: proof of life. His gaze snapped to the letter. But before he read it, he drew it closer to his nose. He picked up a strange scent. Something pungent. A human might not smell it, but his enhanced sense of smell picked it up. Odd. But he had no time to think about it further. Instead, he read the letter, his heart pounding.

Shit! Why hadn’t Savannah called him?

When he read to the end, he knew why. The kidnapper had made her believe he was watching her every move and would kill not only Buffy, but even John if she sought help.

He looked at his watch. “Oh God!”

It would take nothing short of a miracle to make it to Stern Grove in time.