Sanguinary (Night Shift Book 1) Read online

  The administrator ignored the desk and sat down on an old-fashioned sofa, leaving two wingback chairs for us. All upholstered in dark red velvet. Of course. He crossed his legs and brushed what I suspected was imaginary lint from his pant leg before looking up at us and steepling his fingers under his chin.

  “So,” he said. “Why are you here?” His dark eyes caught mine, and I could feel myself desperately wanting to tell him everything. I clamped my teeth together so hard my jaw ached.

  Reese can do the talking.

  I tore my eyes away from Mendoza’s and stared at the carpet. It was clearly expensive. Probably antique Persian. I focused all of my attention on the red and black design.

  “We’re here for an evening of entertainment,” Reese said mildly.

  “With surveillance equipment? I think not. Look at me.” I knew without a doubt that Mendoza was talking to me. Against my will, my gaze dragged up from the carpet and moved up over his feet, then legs, then torso, until it reached his face. But by dint of absolute will, I was able to focus on his left cheek. I knew that if I looked into his eyes, I’d be unable to resist him. And then I might tell him everything I knew. And not only about vampires, either. He’d probably get several years’ worth of past case information too.

  Reese reached over and put his hand on my forearm. I realized that I was clutching the arms of the chair. But with the touch, I relaxed my iron hold a little.

  Odd, the effect Reese had on me.

  Though my eyes were firmly focused on Mendoza’s cheek, I could still see him frown. I could also see what I hadn’t noticed before: His skin wasn’t the extreme shade of pale I had come to expect from vampires. It had an ashy tint to it, as if he had been darker at one point and that darkness had faded out, not to white, but to a drab khaki.

  “So there is a connection between you two after all,” said Mendoza. “Interesting.” He made that creepy vamp sniffing motion again. “You really should truly bleed her. Let me know if she is as intoxicating as her smell indicates.”

  I felt more of Mendoza’s control over me slip away. I wasn’t sure if it was because of Reese’s help, or because Mendoza had let go voluntarily, or if somehow my own irritation at his words made me more able to resist him. I didn’t much care at that point. I was simply glad to be able to breathe again. I peeled my arms up off the chair and folded them across my chest, then ripped my gaze away from Mendoza’s face and watched Reese instead.

  “As I said, I’ve Claimed her.” That I found Reese’s pronouncement comforting highlighted just how dangerous this situation was becoming.

  “But not in the usual way of such things,” Mendoza said.

  “No.” Reese offered no more information, instead letting that half-smile of his flicker briefly into existence.

  Mendoza’s eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “So how is it that she, not Claimed, is still yours?”

  Reese shook his head and smiled. “Not a chance, chief. You get blood your way; I get it mine.” He leaned back in his chair and kicked one leg up over the other so that his ankle rested on the knee of the opposite leg. Across from him, Mendoza looked positively prim with his legs crossed at the thigh, his chiseled face serious beneath his silvered locks.

  Mendoza tapped his forefingers together then touched them against his pursed lips as he studied both of us.

  “And yet,” he said to Reese, “you come here often. Your”—he paused and separated his hands so that he could flick his long, thin fingers in my direction—“pet has not been with you on those occasions.”

  “It’s still a new relationship.” The curl of Reese’s lip, the deepening of his voice, the slight pause before the word relationship, all served to make the words sound as if they described something not only dirty, but utterly depraved.

  I shook my head, still fighting off the lingering effects of Mendoza’s mind-control game. I got the feeling that Reese had gained the upper hand somehow, but I wasn’t entirely certain why. Clearly, Mendoza thought there was more to our alliance than actually existed.

  Now Reese was the one picking imaginary lint off his pants. “I’ll tell you what. You let us walk out of here, and we won’t ever come back. I don’t have much interest in spending my time someplace where Claims aren’t honored.” He looked up and met Mendoza’s eyes squarely.

  I might not know much about vampire etiquette, but even I could tell that Reese’s comment was a slur.

  Mendoza uncrossed his legs and leaned forward slightly.

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said. “By all means, please feel free to return. And be assured that I will see to it that all Claims—even such, shall we say, unconventional ones—are honored.”

  Reese nodded once. “Thank you, sir. Much obliged.” He nodded again, placed his hat on his head, touched the brim, and held his hand out to me. I stood up, once again glad for his steadying touch.

  I turned to follow Reese out, but at the last minute, he turned back toward Mendoza.

  “Sanguinary,” he said, and I stumbled to a stop behind him, trying to gauge Mendoza’s reaction without looking directly at his face. I couldn’t tell much—he might have frozen in place at the word, but he might simply be doing that vampire-still thing. “I still want in.”

  One corner of the administrator’s mouth turned up. “Of course you do. These things cannot be rushed.” He gestured in a clear dismissal.

  He didn’t speak to us again, but followed us as far as the door to speak to Jorge, who stood guard in the hall. “Please see that this gentleman and his bloodgiver are treated respectfully tonight.”

  Jorge nodded and motioned us down the hall in front of him.

  As we moved through the curtain and back into the main room, I clutched Reese’s arm.

  “What was that?” I whispered furiously.

  “Later,” he said.

  I realized that the guard was still watching us, albeit from a respectful distance—but I didn’t know how acute a vampire’s hearing might be.

  “We need to leave now,” I whispered.

  “Not yet.” Reese spoke in his normal voice. He sounded dismissive. I hoped that was for the sake of anyone who might be listening in. I felt my blood boil at his dismissal, despite the risk.

  In the fifteen minutes we’d spent in Mendoza’s office, the dead vampire’s body had been cleared away. In fact, all signs of struggle had been wiped out. Or wiped up, more likely, since the vampire had probably leaked blood onto the floor. And I had a vague recollection of slinging my drink across the room when I spun to grab the vamp. Then again, I suspected that these people were used to cleaning up disgusting red liquid messes.

  The memory of the struggle hadn’t been wiped away, though. Everyone stared at us as we made our way back up to the bar. I stuck as close to Reese as possible without actually plastering my body up against his. I didn’t entirely trust Mendoza’s bodyguard to protect me if the vampires surrounding me suddenly decided to attack.

  A space cleared for us as if by magic.

  It occurred to me that there might be some benefit to being known as a vampire killer, after all.

  I was going to need a drink—a real one this time.

  But Reese had other ideas. With one hand, he grasped my upper arm so tightly it felt like the circulation had been cut off. Staring over my head and scanning the room for anyone who got too close, he whispered harshly, “How did you resist Mendoza’s mind control?”

  “You’re hurting me,” I said through gritted teeth.

  His grip tightened. “Smile and talk.”

  I felt my heart rate pick up. I’d be wise to remember that Reese was one of them. Garrett had said Reese was on our side, as much as it was possible for any vamp to be. But he still might not think of us as anything more than dinner.

  I scolded myself for letting his cowboy hat and dimpled smile—not to mention his meltingly hot body—lead me to forget that he was every bit as much a monster as any other vampire in the room. His hold on my a
rm reminded me forcibly of that fact now.

  “Do you want to discuss it here?” I was playing for time, really. I’d left my surveillance equipment with Jorge, so Iverson probably wasn’t coming any time soon—I didn’t see him calling in the troops after he heard me willingly hand over the gear. And for all I knew, Jorge had completely forgotten about it, and Iverson was right this minute learning all the secrets of the Vampire Administration.

  Reese loosened his hold enough for my circulation to recover, the blood rushing to my palm like needles dancing across it. I rubbed it with the thumb of my other hand, and Reese’s gaze followed the motion.

  “We’re leaving,” he said, his voice harsh.

  No. No way in hell am I walking out of here with a pissed-off vampire.

  That was how cops ended up dead.

  I took a step backwards and pulled myself up onto a barstool, reaching for my own willpower to stall him. Reese’s upper lip curled, revealing a fang, and I held out my hands placatingly. “Hear me out.”

  It hit me, hard, that no matter how I twisted it around in my head, Reese was going to be more than just an informant to me. I didn’t know if I could trust him, this cowboy-vampire I had been thrown together with. But something about him sang to me, like a tune just out of hearing, almost recognized—a song of protection and death. And I wanted to dance to it, almost as much as I wanted to escape it.

  The department wouldn’t force me to stick it out, wouldn’t expect me to team up with a vampire for anything more than the most superficial of connections.

  It helped to know I could walk out at any time.

  But I also knew I wouldn’t.

  I was certain that Reese would help us find and stop whoever was killing these women.

  That’s why I’ll stay in this.

  “I’ll tell you everything,” I said to the vampire snarling at me. “But I’ll need your help.”

  Reese’s lip dropped back down, covering the fang.

  I was glad—it was easier to contemplate joining forces with him when he wasn’t reminding me that he was one of the monsters.

  “Talk,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Not here.” I spoke quietly. How good his hearing might be was only one of the many things I didn’t know about vampires.

  He slid up to the bar beside me.

  “We can’t leave,” he replied, equally softly. I had to lean close to hear him.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Mendoza all but dared me to Claim you, back there.” He didn’t look down at me. “If I don’t bleed you at least a little before we go, he’ll be suspicious.”

  At his words, the half-healed bite mark Reese had left on my shoulder throbbed once, sending a hot pulse throughout my entire body.

  I wanted the response to be revulsion.

  Almost everyone who went undercover with the vamps came out addicted to their bite. The ones who could still string two sentences together, like Garrett, stayed on the force.

  The others…

  The press portrayed the police as bumbling and stupid—and maybe we were. Sending detectives in against humanity’s worst nightmare? We were like little kids trying to hold back the dark with matches, bound to get our fingers burned, and worse, maybe burn the house down around us.

  I paused and swallowed.

  The wound left by the other vampire—the one I had killed—didn’t respond at all, making me wonder if there was something more than just the physiological at work.

  I took a long, ragged breath. “Okay,” I said. “Whatever we need to do.”

  He glanced down at me now. “Anything?”

  I shuddered, my nipples suddenly hardening beneath the light silk of the camisole I wore. “Anything necessary,” I clarified.

  His nostrils flared at the same time his lips parted slightly, and I knew he was tasting my desire on the air around us.

  With a nod, he took my hand and tugged me gently off the barstool, leading us both back toward the curtained alcoves.

  My heart raced in my chest, but I fought to keep my breath even. As we moved into the small room, another tremor shook me.

  Part of me was terrified of the possibility that Reese was using the blood house meet as a chance to get a free meal.

  The rest of me wanted his touch so badly it didn’t matter why he was doing it.

  I had to keep that second, larger part of myself in check.

  “So what’s with the public bloodletting?” I asked, proud that my voice didn’t shake. “Why not do this in the privacy of your own homes?”

  Reese sat on the couch, pulling me down next to him. “Two reasons,” he said. “The first is community restraint. If a vampire loses control, we can take him or her down before the human dies.”

  “And that’s important to you?”

  He nodded. “Very. We live here, too—it’s no good for any of us if one vampire sets the whole city against us. And we like our food alive.”

  Then why wasn’t the administration talking to us about the vamp murders? Why wouldn’t they want the killer caught?

  “And the second reason?” I asked, choosing not to bring up the killings.

  “It’s a bad idea to let humans know where we sleep. A business like this allows us the privacy we prefer for these kinds of things, but is public enough to help keep everyone safe—including the humans, who aren’t compelled to invite us into their homes.”

  I sat silent for a long moment, contemplating a world where vampires bled their victims dry on a regular basis, or tore them to shreds in their own homes. A world where humans went on a citywide hunt for the monsters that were killing them.

  Was that the kind of world the perpetrator of the vamp murders wanted to create?

  The laws, spoken and unspoken, made just a little more sense. I shivered again, but this time there was no desire in the tremble. “I don’t know how I resisted Mendoza earlier. But when you touched me, it was easier to hold him at bay.”

  Reese nodded thoughtfully. “I wondered if it might.”

  We sat together without speaking, and for the first time, I felt almost comfortable with him.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I finally said, pulling the collar of my shirt aside and baring my neck to Reese. I didn’t trust him—not really, not yet—but no one else was around, and I had no choice but to do this.

  “First,” he whispered, “let me help you.” He licked his thumb and ran it across the wound the other vampire had left. A tingling, burning sensation followed his touch, and when I reached up to check the bite, I felt the hard edges of a scab—the kind that shouldn’t be there for days, at least, or maybe longer.

  I opened my mouth to ask about it, but Reese shook his head and placed his fingertip across my lips.

  My heart stuttered as he bent down and slid his tongue gently across the recent wounds he had created, drawing a line of fire between the two puncture marks. Then he traced another line with his tongue up a little higher on my neck, following the vein. With a sigh, I closed my eyes, and he sank his fangs into me.

  It shouldn’t have felt so much like coming home.

  Chapter 5

  I needed to remember where this assignment could end. After all, Garrett hadn’t always been a vamp addict. When I first joined the Sucker Squad, he had been my mentor as well as my partner. Then he went undercover for six months, and when he came out, he was a shadow of the gruff, plainspoken man who had trained me.

  I might have been able to better handle Garrett’s vampire-addiction problem if I hadn’t seen it in action, first-hand. But finding him in that basement had rammed home the fact that he was really and truly a junkie.

  Still, I had wanted to protect him from the repercussions of that addiction, since it developed in the department’s service.

  I’d almost left out his basement splurge from my official report all those months ago. I even considered convincing Jeanie to keep quiet.

  In the end, though, I was too well trained to keep Garrett’s
problem to myself.

  I included everything and filed the report.

  And apparently he was still worth something to the force—otherwise, the brass wouldn’t have kept him on.

  It was the next day—after we’d taken the vamp-addled Garrett home and cleaned him up, and I’d gone back to the precinct to write my report—that Lieutenant Iverson had stuck his blond, buzz-cut head out of his office and called me over. “Captain wants to see you in his office.”

  I nodded and headed down the hall.

  I didn’t know what I anticipated, but I wasn’t expecting to glance through the windows into Captain James’s office and see the chief of police.

  “He’ll be with you in a minute,” Stacy, Captain James’s secretary, said. I took a seat and waited, a little surprised by how anxious I felt.

  A few minutes later, Chief Wallace Paige left the office. A large, quiet, black man with graying sideburns, he always looked serious, as if he was taking in the scene around him and noticing every detail. The kind of man I would want to have my back in a dangerous situation.

  Right now, he looked like a man dropped down unexpectedly into the middle of that danger. Every line of his body radiated tension.

  “Detective Davis.” He nodded at me as he passed.

  He knew who I was, and presumably why I was there.

  This is not good.

  I waited a few minutes longer. Andre Perricone, the latest addition to the Sucker Squad, came in and dropped an envelope on Stacy’s desk, hanging around a few extra minutes to flirt with the secretary.

  He looks so young.

  Only three years in, and already I felt jaded.

  The phone on Stacy’s desk buzzed and she picked it up, murmuring a few words. “You can go in,” she said to me.

  Captain James didn’t look up as I walked in.

  “Shut the door behind you.”

  He continued staring at the crime-scene photos on his desk in front of him.

  “Have a seat.”

  As I waited, he pushed the photos around with one forefinger.

  “Fifty years,” he finally said, after a long, silent moment.