FIVE
THE HEADACHE POUNDING through her head made it difficult to emerge from a heavy sleep. Normally, Blaze woke quickly no matter the time. She didn’t linger in bed, or have to have three cups of coffee to clear her head, but the headache made it difficult to think. She felt disoriented and a little nauseated. Her body ached everywhere. Everywhere.
Heart pounding, her eyes flew open and she turned her head to see if someone else was in her bed. Clearly alone, she drew in a long, shuddering breath, the events of the night becoming much clearer in her head. She preferred the fog to reality. Groaning, because even the light hurt her eyes, she flung one hand over her face to protect herself from the bright light of day.
She had cried for hours last night. For hours. In his arms. Maksim. Virtually a total stranger. She groaned again, her face flaming. She’d done more than cry in his arms; she’d let him have her body. Not once. But again and again. In between her crying jags. She’d lost her mind last night. Totally lost it.
She couldn’t pretend Maksim Volkov away or the things she’d done with him. There was no denying awesome sex, and the sex was both intense and incredibly awesome. She wanted to regret it. The man was a total stranger and she’d all but torn his clothes off of him, but then the entire night had been intense. That was the only excuse, the only explanation she had. She had expected to die. She’d been prepared for it and truthfully, a part of her had been wishing for it, which would have made her father very, very angry with her.
She groaned a third time and rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. She was fairly certain everything had happened just as she’d remembered it, with the exception of the blood part. That couldn’t have happened, because blood didn’t taste like that. Addicting and hot and totally masculine. Her mouth watered at the remembrance. If blood actually was so good that she couldn’t even get the taste out of her mind and she craved more, people would be selling it on the black market and making a fortune.
As for vampires—she winced a little at the word—she didn’t want to go there. She knew about vampires. She’d known since she was ten years old and Emeline had come into her life. Of course, in the beginning, neither girl had believed. Whenever they were together, they had the nightmare. The same nightmare. It was powerful and ugly and scary. They were together a lot. The more they had the nightmare, the more it unfolded and became longer and more detailed.
She groaned again, trying to shut down her brain, not wanting to think about vampires or monsters she couldn’t control. Since she wasn’t going to see Maksim ever again, for as long as she lived, she could pretend, like she’d been doing for years, that she didn’t believe in any of it. In the meantime, she didn’t have the luxury of lying around her apartment feeling sorry for herself. She had work to do.
Her cell buzzed along the end table, vibrating across the wood surface. She snagged it quickly, trying not to remember how she’d put her foot up on it and what had happened after. Still, her body remembered, even if her brain tried to shut the memory down. She felt an answering twinge deep inside. At once a smoldering burn started.
“You got Blaze,” she answered.
“Where have you been? I’ve called you thirty times,” Emeline Sanchez, her best friend, burst out without even saying hello. “You turned me into crazy stalker woman. I’ve been worried sick. Thank God you waited for me. I totally have your back on this, honey. I got a job at the strip club. You know, The In Place. Seriously. They hired me right away.”
Blaze sat up straighter, shoving at the fall of hair cascading everywhere. “Em, are you insane? This isn’t a game. These men killed my father. You cannot go undercover at the strip joint.” She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “You know why.”
“I may not be a badass like you, Blaze, but I can get information. I’m good at it. You know I am. I have always had that knack and I’m not letting you do this alone. I’m not. You and your father . . .” Her voice wavered and she trailed off. She cleared her throat. “If it wasn’t for the two of you, I wouldn’t be here. You know that. I’m not letting you do this alone.”
Blaze closed her eyes briefly. Emeline wasn’t a fighter in the sense that Blaze was. Sean had tried to teach her, and she was capable, but it wasn’t in her nature, in the way it was in Blaze’s. Emeline was quieter. She was gorgeous. Truly drop-dead gorgeous. Of course the strip club would hire her. She also appeared mysterious, elusive and, just walking down the street, she was sexy as all get-out. She rarely argued, although she had strong opinions, she just quietly went her own way. When she made up her mind to do something, no one could stop her. No one. Blaze had learned that early.
“Emmy, listen to me. It isn’t safe for you to be in this city. It isn’t safe for you to be in the country. It certainly isn’t safe for you to be in that strip club. Especially that strip club. What did you do? Go straight from the airport to the bar and apply for a job?”
“Well . . . yeah.”
As if that was perfectly reasonable. Blaze wanted to tear out her hair. Her life was out of control. Completely out of control. She should have known the moment she sent word to Emeline that Sean was dead and she was going after the killers, that Emmy would get on a plane, regardless of the danger to herself, and come back to help.
“Do you know who owns that club?” Blaze inquired softly. She glanced down at her body. She was naked. Completely naked. She never slept naked. There were smudge marks on her breasts. Like fingerprints. And a mark above her left one that looked suspiciously like a bite. She closed her eyes, remembering the way it felt when he sank his teeth into her. Her sex spasmed. Clenched. She felt the rush of liquid heat at the memory.
“No. And I don’t care.”
“Have you ever been in it before?”
“Of course not. I’ve never stripped before if that’s what you’re asking, but I took pole dancing to stay in shape and I’ve danced all my life. I have no doubt I can pull this off.”
Blaze sucked in her breath. “Wait. Wait. They hired you as a stripper? I thought you meant they hired you as a waitress.”
“Honey, how can I get close to the girls to get information if I’m not one of them?” Emeline sounded as if she was losing a little of her patience.
Blaze wanted to scream.
“Blaze.” Emeline’s voice softened. “I’m not walking into this with my eyes closed. I didn’t come back on impulse. I know the risk and, just like you, I accept it. You and Sean are the closest thing I have to a family. I don’t have anyone else, and living on the run doesn’t exactly give me the incentive—or time—to make friends. They murdered him. They took him from us. I’m not going to let them get away with it any more than you are. I can’t go into combat with you, but I can feed you intel.”
Blaze rubbed her hand down her face. She didn’t have an argument for that one. It was all true and she knew exactly how Emeline felt about Sean. Emeline had no real family to speak of. Her mother had died when she was three. Her father disappeared and Emeline had been shifted from home to home with apathetic relatives. Blaze met her by chance in an alley behind the bar, and they became fast friends. Emeline had been working in stores since she was thirteen for her various relatives, and she easily got a job and an apartment with Sean as her reference when she turned sixteen. Mostly, before that, she lived on the streets during the day and slept in Blaze’s room at night.
Sean had paid for her dance classes and anything extra she’d wanted to take as she was growing up. She went to school as if she had an adult watching over her. When Emeline came to them eight months back and told them she’d witnessed a murder and she was scared, afraid she was being followed, Sean had helped her leave the country.
“Em, you described the murder to the police . . .”
Emeline groaned. “I wish I’d never used the term ‘vampire.’ I said vampire-like and they didn’t believe me. I know there aren’t vampires. I even tried to backtrack and say that maybe he had that disease where he believes he’s a vampire and murders people and drinks their blood. He had receding gum lines, was pale, his hair was in strings, and all that is explained by the disease. Once I said ‘vampire’ no one believed a thing I said.”
“We both know it was a vampire,” Blaze said quietly. “We didn’t want to believe it, but that nightmare . . .” She sighed and pressed her fingertips to her pounding temple. “Emmy, hon, that nightmare is getting closer. You cannot go to work at that club. Some of the things in the nightmare are too real. We both know what happens if it all becomes true. You’re safer out of the country. I need you safe, Emmy. Please, go back to France.” Her throat closed. She knew Emeline wouldn’t go. Not if their nightmare was going to become reality.
There was a small silence. “Honey, you know I love you. You’re my only family. Sean was my father, too. I have to do this. I couldn’t live with myself if I wasn’t here helping you. I can’t give you that. And you know why. If only I hadn’t used the word vampire to describe him, the cops wouldn’t have dismissed me like I was a lunatic.”
“Emmy, listen to me. The cops believed you. They were dirty. Sean knew it and he got you out of here. Some of them work for this guy and his mob. His name is Reginald Coonan and he owns that club. Sean believed you and so did I. There are others who think . . .” She trailed off, reluctant to reveal anything about Maksim. It felt like betrayal, even with Emeline.
“Think what?” Emeline insisted.
“Think he kills like a vampire does. Whatever he is, we know the man calling himself Reginald Coonan murders and drinks the blood of his victims. You saw him.”
“Two of them,” Emeline reminded in a whisper. “I still have the nightmares every night. I’m afraid to go to sleep.”
“I know, honey,” Blaze said. “That’s why you shouldn’t go back to that club. If he sees you there . . .”
“I was hired under the name Sean gave me when he sent me to Europe. I’m doing this, Blaze. For Sean. For you. But most of all for myself. I’m tired of running and I want to come home. You’re all I’ve got.”
Blaze closed her eyes and threw herself backward across the bed. There was no stopping Emeline once she made up her mind to something any more than there was Blaze. “Okay, but we have to be smart,” she capitulated. “It’s really dangerous.”
“I practically lived on the streets, Blaze, I’m good at this. I’ve got mad skills in manipulating people into talking to me about things they’d rather not.”
Blaze took a deep breath, her lashes still firmly down. For some reason, the light seeping in from around the blinds bothered her eyes. Her headache was worse when she sat up. “A couple of months ago, a man came into the bar and handed Dad a card with a number on it. They offered to help with the Hallahan problem. I was shocked when Dad saved the card, because we both thought there was a rival mob who wanted to claim our neighborhood.”
Emeline remained silent, waiting.
Blaze sighed. “I called the number last night because I put the bar in their names in case of my death. I thought if I died, and the Hallahans were still alive, I wanted someone to kill them. What better way than a mobster, right?”
“You told them you did this? Now you’ve got two different mob families wanting you dead?” Emeline sounded shocked.
“Well. No. Not exactly. I slept with one of them. Accidentally. Well.” Blaze sat up again and looked down at her body. “Not slept. He had a lot of stamina. We went at it and then I cried over Dad. In front of him, Emmy. I couldn’t believe it. And then again, but slower and sweeter. And then again. And again . . .”
Emeline groaned. “I get the picture. Holy cow, Blaze.”
“I know. Right? He was unbelievable. I mean that. One kiss and I melted. Actually I think I melted long before that. Seriously, just hearing his voice. He has this way of talking. Very low. Soft. But totally commanding. He’s . . .”
Emeline continued for her. “Domineering? Arrogant? Bossy? Oh no, Blaze. And you slept with him? Honey. You just look at men like him. You don’t actually sleep with them.”
“Well, actually, Emmy, there wasn’t any actual sleeping going on. One look, just his voice, and I totally melted.”
“Um, honey, let me just tell you that dominating, super-sexy men are great to fantasize about, but you never, never actually try to have a relationship with one. It doesn’t work in real life. Now at least you know the kind of man you’re attracted to and you can watch yourself. I fall for the bad boy every time. The real deal. The more tats, muscle and motorcycles they have, the more I’m falling at their feet. But I don’t touch that. Why? Because no matter how good the sex, I know myself. My heart would be involved and I’d get kicked in the teeth. So I don’t.”
“Bad boys?” Blaze echoed faintly.
“One hundred percent. I like macho. Bossy. Arrogant. I don’t even feel a twinge without that, but I’m not dumb, Blaze. I’m not going there. You have to pull it together no matter how good this guy was in bed. You were vulnerable and he took advantage.”
Blaze cleared her throat. “Not really. I’m pretty certain I jumped him.”
“You were vulnerable, honey,” Emeline said softly.
Blaze ran her hand over her thigh. There was a bite mark on the inside, a strawberry up high. Her stomach somersaulted and she felt an instant reaction deep in her body. “Maybe, but I definitely participated.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. I woke up and he was gone.”
There was a telling silence.
“I’m not looking for a relationship, Emmy,” Blaze said. “It happened and I can’t say I’m not glad. It was amazing. I had no idea sex was that amazing, but I have things to do, and a relationship isn’t one of them. It happened. I’m moving on.”
“He’s one of these mobsters?”
“I’m not certain they are mobsters,” Blaze mused. “More like hunters.” Her heart pounded when she said it, and her hand crept up to cover her neck right where her pulse jumped and pounded. “But whatever you saw that night, Emeline, they’ve seen. We aren’t crazy. There’s someone . . .”
“There were two of them,” Emeline reiterated. “Not just one. Two.”
“Okay, two of them. But someone else has seen at least one of them. And they saw them kill. They are going after them.”
“Good. Let them. We’ll go after the Hallahans because I did some research on them. They can go out in the sunlight. We can get them, Blaze.”
“Just be careful. I’ll come into the club in a couple of hours and watch your back.”
“That red hair of yours is impossible to miss,” Emeline pointed out. “You can’t take any chances, and if you blow it and talk to me, then my cover is blown. As it is, I was lucky I never ran into one of them before Sean got me out of here.”
Blaze sighed very loud. Loud enough for Emeline to hear. “We aren’t in a spy movie, Em. Don’t get caught up in the drama.”
Emeline laughed. “Very funny, Blaze. I’m about the drama. That’s why you love me. I’m the girlie girl and always being dramatic. You’re the steady, no-nonsense, mess-with-me-I’ll-kick-your-ass girl. That’s why we’re friends. We both can’t be a drama queen.” She paused, and then lowered her voice. “I love you, Blaze. You’re my only family. I can’t lose you. I can’t. I wouldn’t survive. Don’t throw your life away.”
Blaze clutched the phone tighter, so tight her knuckles turned white. She had been doing that. She was so grief stricken, so determined not to allow herself to even think about those hours before her father had died, that she was willing to put herself in harm’s way. She would have—unfairly—left Emeline with no one.
She would be forever grateful to Maksim Volkov and Tariq Asenguard for saving her life. She knew she would have died. She was fairly certain she would have taken at least a couple of the Hallahan brothers with her, but Emeline was right. She had wanted to die rather than face the nightmare of what Sean had gone through.
“I wish I hadn’t gone out. I took a class on bartending tricks. Dad took my shift so I could attend the class. Now, it seems so silly.”
“It wasn’t silly, Blaze,” Emeline said. “It’s life. We live our life and things happen and we have to deal. We’re dealing. Between the two of us, we’ll find the best way to take out the Hallahan brothers, one by one. Hell, I’ll seduce them if I have to.”
“Emeline.” Blaze breathed her name. “Don’t you dare.”
“Just saying. Gotta go, hon. I’m staying at the Mark Charles Hotel. It’s kind of run-down, but I thought a down-and out-stripper might live there.”
Blaze clenched her teeth. “Emmy, you have to be safe. Are there good locks on the doors? A peephole? Are you protected there?”
“Sean taught me a thing or two, Blaze,” Emeline said, her voice serious. “I know how to be safe. I traveled Europe on my own. Just because I can’t kick butt like you do, doesn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention to the things you both taught me. I can do this. I think I’m safer than you are. If you come into the club, hide that hair of yours.”
“Yes, mama,” Blaze said. “I know a little something about being safe as well. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. But Emmy, if you’re dancing, I’m closing my eyes so I won’t go blind.”
Emeline laughed. Blaze forgot how beautiful her laughter was. Emeline had a beautiful voice. She had a beautiful body. Everything about her was gorgeous. She’d been blessed by the beauty gods, but cursed by the gods for that beauty.
“You do that, honey. Be safe.”
“Be safe,” Blaze echoed and snapped her phone shut. She threw it on the nightstand and covered her face. She’d come so close to dying last night. She couldn’t say she regretted a single thing that happened. She wanted Maksim Volkov and truthfully, she wanted him again. But she so wasn’t going there. She wasn’t the type of woman to mesh with someone like Maksim, nor did she think for one moment that she was his only in spite of the things he’d told her.
For one thing, her hand crept up to her neck again, and a slow flush spread through her body. There was the blood thing. Her face burned. His mouth on her had been erotic and her mouth on him . . . His taste was addicting. She wanted more. Blood didn’t taste like that. She knew. She was one of those weird people who, when they cut themselves, sucked at the wound. Blood didn’t taste at all like that.
Still, she’d seen him move. Or more precisely, she hadn’t seen him move. He was that fast. If his blood could make her that fast, she would be perfectly fine with being a little more like him because she was avenging her father’s torture and murder. She wasn’t leaving that in a stranger’s hands.
Blaze pushed herself off the bed. Instantly she felt dizzy and disoriented. The pounding in her head grew. If heads could explode, she was fairly certain hers would. It was far worse than any hangover she’d ever experienced. She pressed her hand to her rolling stomach and staggered to the bathroom. Every step was difficult. Her feet felt leaden, caught in quicksand.
She had the urge to lie back down and pull the covers over her head to block out all light. Instead, she turned on the shower and stepped under the cascading water, letting it run on her face and body in an effort to clear away the cobwebs. If her problems had only been physical, she would have been okay with it, but her thoughts refused to leave Maksim Volkov alone. No matter what she did, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
She fantasized in the shower as she washed her hair, running her fingers through it, remembering the feel of his hands in her hair, the erotic bite of pain on her scalp. So good. So good that even the memory caused a spasm. She remembered the way his skin felt when she touched him. Hot. Hard. So beautiful, if a man could be described as beautiful. Her hands, as she washed her skin, followed the path of his. Her breasts, her belly, her waist, lower still. She heard herself moan and was shocked.
She wasn’t a sensual person. Really. She wasn’t. She had looked at a few men, but seriously, she just hadn’t been interested. It was weird to think she could go from being semi-frigid, to nearly ripping a man’s clothes off. There was no doubt she’d done that—and she wouldn’t take a single second back.
She also didn’t fool herself into believing everything he said to her. Men said things to get a woman in bed. She wasn’t naïve. Even if he was everything he’d told her—another species altogether and not a vampire—there couldn’t be only one woman for a man. It sounded awesome to be a man’s only one, but a man as hot as Maksim could have any number of women. And he had to have, or he wouldn’t have been so awesome in bed. No one could get that good without tons of experience. Not that she had done so bad herself.
Smirking, she rinsed the soap from her body, wishing the water running over her didn’t feel so sensual on her sensitive skin. Maksim had opened the floodgates on her sexuality. There was no doubt about that. She was craving him all over again. His taste. His body. His cock. Every single inch of him. She wanted to hear his voice. See his smile.
“Obsession,” she whispered aloud. She was doing exactly what Emeline warned her against. She wanted a relationship with Maksim, not a one-night stand. “I’ll settle for sex,” she told the hot spray of water. “Lots of great sex with him. And if he really is that fast, maybe a little of that as well.”
She rinsed her hair one last time and turned off the shower, reaching for a towel to dry herself off. Touching her body with the velvet softness of the material was a mistake. The moment the towel slid across her nipples, she felt the arc of electricity rushing to her core. Her sheath spasmed. Deep inside she throbbed with need. She clenched her teeth against the flames sweeping through her bloodstream and kept rubbing.
By the time she got the material between her legs where she was sore—deliciously sore—she was on fire. Just touching the towel to her pulsing button sent a shocking orgasm surging through her. She leaned against the sink, breathing hard, wishing Maksim was there with her. He’d given her this gift. She’d never had an orgasm—self-induced—so strong. Imagining his mouth on her, or his heavy erection in her mouth or in her body, sent another wave crashing through her.
Breathing heavily, she tossed the towel aside and caught up another to wrap her hair in before standing in front of the full-length mirror. The sight made her breath catch in her throat. She’d looked at herself hundreds of times, usually a cursory look to make certain her clothes weren’t on inside out or something equally as dorky.
Her skin had never glowed so much. Her eyes seemed larger, the green more brilliant, almost dazzling. Her lashes seemed thicker and longer. Her body looked . . . lush. She was cut. She worked out and she was used to her muscles being very defined—and they were—but somehow she noticed her curves. Mostly, she noticed the smudges on her body—the marks of Maksim’s possession. There were a lot of them, as if he had branded her, stamped his mark so deep it was in her very bones.
She let out her breath slowly. She looked beautiful. She’d never felt beautiful in her life. She knew she wasn’t plain, but still, not like this. Never like this. Maksim transformed her in some way, or at least made her aware of her femininity—something she’d never acknowledged. She dressed slowly, choosing her outfit with care. She dressed for combat. Jeans that stretched easily. Boots that were lightweight enough to allow her to move fast but would take someone down if she delivered a kick to them. A shirt that emphasized her curves, a vest that allowed her to hide a few weapons. She didn’t take a purse, but zipped ID and money in her vest pocket. She slipped a knife in one boot and a gun into the other.
Her hair took some time. She braided it and then donned one of several wigs she kept just for such purposes. Sean had taught her how to keep from being noticed, and the color of her hair had always been a detriment. When she’d shadowed him, he’d spotted her every time, so she’d purchased wigs. With the cheaper ones, he’d made her immediately, but when she paid good money for real hair, she’d managed to tail him a few times without getting caught. She put on a short, black wig, made certain it was secure and looked real before sliding on a pair of sunglasses, because the light was killing her eyes. She hurried out of the apartment. Surveillance first and then she would go into the club when there were tons of people.