Part 7 (2/2)
Lacey avoided his eyes. She hated her boss. Jeff was a jerk but he always came up with good plans and had a knack for discovering vampire nests. Matt climbed out and both men dragged the limp bloodsucker out of the van. She followed them into the warehouse that served as their operations base.
”I want his jacket,” she called out. ”Dibs.”
Jeff and Matt removed his jacket and hoisted the big male onto the weight bench they'd reinforced and welded with thick steel. They chained his arms and legs and stretched him out. His feet hung over the end. Chains rattled and locks clicked closed.
”You're up, Lacey.”
”Great,” she muttered.
Her boss shot her a glare. ”My kid has baseball practice first thing in the morning and Matt has to start his s.h.i.+ft at five. I'm not trusting the newbie alone with that thing. It could talk him into letting it go. You have no life.”
She resented the reminder. ”I didn't say I wouldn't stay,” she muttered. ”I'll do it.”
The guys left, Matt taking his traumatized brother with him, and she locked the warehouse door. She removed her weapons, the rifle holster, and her vest. She turned, studying the guy in the center of the room, grabbed a chair and dragged it closer to the bench.
The control for the skylight dangled on a long cable beside her chair. She looked up to make sure the skylight was sealed, the building secure. She always worried a vampire would track them back to base but it hadn't happened so far. A quick glance at her watch confirmed it was a few hours until dawn.
Her focus fixed on the immobile guy stretched out on the bench and she rose to her feet, curious. The last vampire they'd grabbed had been unwashed, dressed as if he were homeless, and stank. This guy was well-groomed and clean.
She hesitated, but then gently brushed his hair away from his face so she could see it. The silky black strands were thick and soft as her fingers slid through them. Striking olive features were revealed, and she gawked at him. Calling him handsome would be an understatement.
”h.e.l.lo, hot stuff,” she whispered.
He wasn't a pretty boy, too masculine for that with his st.u.r.dy chin, sculpted cheekbones and a plush, pouty mouth, now lax in sleep. She leaned closer and inhaled the wonderful cologne he wore as her fingers stroked his long hair. It was beautiful. Matt's ”chick” comment flashed through her mind and she smirked. Nothing about this guy was remotely feminine.
What am I doing? She jerked her hand away and backed up until she reached her chair. She dropped her a.s.s onto it and hugged her chest, examining the rest of the vampire. He wore a tank top, revealing a lot of skin, bulky biceps and really broad shoulders. The thin cotton s.h.i.+rt stretched tightly over his torso to a flat belly and trim waist. A belt buckle of a carved wolf's head secured his black belt. Long, muscular legs stretched beyond the end of the bench.
He's got to be at least six-foot-four or five. They'd been lucky to grab one so big. He probably wasn't old either, judging by his biker apparel. Vampires tended to choose styles that reflected the era in which they'd been turned. Even the really old ones clung to small, familiar details. If you knew what to look for, there was always something. She mentally ticked off the nine she'd killed in the past three years, and all had telling signs in their attire that had hinted at their true ages.
She glanced at her watch, stifled a yawn, and relaxed in her chair. Part of her hoped he didn't wake before the sun rose. She'd open the skylight once it did to finish him off. She longed for her bed and at least eight straight hours of undisturbed sleep.
Her gaze drifted back to him and a small part of her hoped he wasn't really a vampire. It would be a shame to take out such a magnificent-looking man. But she really had no doubt of his guilt. He was a merciless, bloodsucking killer in a s.e.xy body.
She bit her lip, rolled her shoulders, and winced a little from the pain. Innocent men didn't hang out in vampire clubs, and she doubted the monsters would allow one of their victims to step outside to take a cigarette break before they drained him of his blood.
Lethal knew he was in trouble before he opened his eyes. His limbs were chained, his body immobilized. His last memory was stepping out the back door of the club to take in some fresh air...
The rest came to him quickly. He'd been shot with something powerful enough to take him down. He seemed to be uninjured, though, and was surprised that nothing hurt.
His heart beat sluggishly. He'd been drugged. The last time anyone had dared do that to him had been twenty years ago. His best friend had been there to save him that time.
Someone had captured him, and whoever it was would pay.
He listened for any sounds to avoid alerting them that he'd shaken most of the drug from his system.
He heard a heartbeat nearby and breathing that was shallow and slow. He peeked through barely slitted eyes. A figure sat slumped in a chair about ten feet away. She appeared to be asleep, so he openly peered at her.
Surprise jolted through him while he studied the la.s.s. She wasn't a werewolf or a vampire, but a human. He inhaled deeply to make sure. Humiliation was a humbling experience. He'd been captured by a wee la.s.s. His friend would laugh his a.r.s.e off if he could see how tiny she was.
His gaze left her to examine his surroundings. It looked like an abandoned warehouse. The smell of sawdust teased his nose, leaving him to guess it had once been a furniture manufacturer or a mill.
He needed to escape.
He tested the restraints on his arms and legs. The chains held but made enough noise to make him wince. The la.s.s slept on, though, undisturbed. He gathered his strength and attempted it again. Sunrise had already come. He could feel it in his bones. He strained but the metal didn't give.
Lethal bit back a curse, lifted his head, and stared down his body to see what they'd used to keep him in place. Heavy-duty chains wrapped around his arms and legs numerous times. The combination of the drugs in his system and the sun having risen left him in a slightly weakened state.
Where is Blaron? His friend had to know he'd gone missing when he hadn't returned to the club. They'd have gathered everyone to hunt him down. Lethal clenched his teeth to smother a growl while he glared at the la.s.s. Whoever she was, she had no idea what kind of trouble she'd taken on. The club would pay any ransom for his return, but she wouldn't live long enough to spend it. h.e.l.l, he didn't even want it to get that far. No one could ever discover a wee la.s.s had taken him captive. He'd never hear the end of the jokes.
He allowed the anger to build until he knew his power showed in his eyes as he concentrated on the la.s.s. The stench of human males still clung to the bench, adding insult to injury. He'd wake the female and take control of her mind, make her release him. He'd have to place a call to help Blaron locate him. It would be too dangerous to stay until sunset. Some of their wolves would have to come and move him during daylight hours.
Revenge would be sweet when he was free. His nose told him the la.s.s was type A positive. He wouldn't kill her-he never harmed women-but she would know his wrath. He'd give her a scare she'd never forget after he took some of her blood. Then he'd send her on her way with orders to never go near the club again.
First, though, he'd have to make her bring him a phone. It would only be a matter of waiting for help to come at that point.
He rattled the chains again. Her heart rate increased as she sucked in air and her head jerked up. Lethal saw her heart-shaped face and instantly changed his mind about her fate. She reminded him of an angel.
He would do more than just take a little blood. His captor was one bonny la.s.s.
Chapter Two.
Lacey jerked awake, alarmed, and nearly fell out of her chair when her gaze locked on her prisoner. A pair of intense dark blue eyes met hers. They narrowed, and she s.h.i.+fted her focus away from them to his straining biceps, which tested the restraints. He obviously worked out to get that kind of muscle ma.s.s. The thin material of his tank top didn't hide six-pack abs bunching from the effort.
”Don't try giving me the glow-eyes routine. Mind control hasn't work on me yet, and you're not going to be able to snap the chains. Others have tried and failed. You're not my first vamp.” She doubted that he'd listen to her advice but she gave it anyway. ”You all try that s.h.i.+t.”
”What do you want?”
His deep voice startled her. He had a slight accent, maybe Scottish or Irish. She glanced at his eyes, his features, and the long black strands of hair that grazed the concrete floor. He obviously had a naturally bronzed complexion unless he'd very recently been turned. He sure wasn't sunbathing anymore.
”How much money will it take to get you to release me?” His voice deepened with anger. ”Just name your price, la.s.s.”
She leaned forward, met his intense stare and licked her lips. She noticed that he glanced down when her tongue darted out but his gaze returned to her eyes. ”You want to know what it's going to cost you for your freedom?”
”Yes.”
”I want my sister back, you son of a b.i.t.c.h.”
His black eyebrows shot up and surprise widened his eyes. ”I didn't take her.”
Lacey rose to her feet. ”How do you know?”
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