Dead World 3, page 3
“Wait, I have a question for you,” she said.
Demery paused, his impatience showing, along with his fangs. He must really be hungry. Or maybe he was just horny from watching the women gyrate seductively around the flames.
“Who’s Reaper?” she asked.
Demery’s cheerful expression faded. “Nobody.”
“Then what did Gray mean earlier when he asked if you brought the item for Reaper?” she asked.
“Nothing, mon. Just old business that needs tending to while I’m here,” he said, then kept walking.
Morgan waited for him to enter the tent, then whispered in her ear. “He lied.”
Red kept her eyes trained on the flap. “I know. His scent soured before he opened his mouth.”
“You want me to go after him?” he asked. “I can find out the truth.”
“No, this isn’t the time or the place to interrogate him.” She shrugged. “He may just be overly hungry. I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, unless his business directly involves us, it really isn’t any of our concern what he does on his own time.”
“You’re right.” Morgan nuzzled her neck. “I’m probably being paranoid.”
Red pulled back so she could look at him. “What’s going to happen to us?” she asked softly.
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
A couple strolled by within earshot. She closed the distance between them, hoping the music would help mask her voice. “We are fugitives. How are we going to prove our innocence if we’re on the run and don’t even know if we’ll make it out of here alive?”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Morgan brushed her cheek with his palm. “Once we locate a communications device and find out what Roark Montgomery’s up to, we’ll make a plan. If nothing else, we’ll broadcast about our innocence until someone listens.”
“I don’t need you to protect me,” Red said. “I need you to make sure nothing happens to you.” She could handle anything no-man’s-land threw at her as long as Morgan was by her side.
He was silent for a moment while his molten eyes searched her face. “I’m sure that Raphael Vega and the others are working on a way to help us from their end.”
Red shook her head. If only that were true... Nuria had turned on her during Morgan’s absence. No doubt their opinion of her was worse now. Raphael, Takeo Yakamura, and Juan Sanchez were the only ones who’d tried to help, but three men couldn’t take on Roark Montgomery’s army. If the politician decided to have another go at Nuria, they’d be massacred.
She thought about Raphael’s brother, Michael Travers. What would become of him? As Roark’s assistant, he’d been their only chance to keep one step ahead of the politician and he’d failed. If Morgan was correct, Roark had gotten to him. Hell, for all she knew Michael was dead.
The thought saddened her. Not over the loss, but what Michael’s death would mean to poor Raphael. He’d just found his brother after years of separation and believing he was dead. Now he may have lost him all over again. She closed her eyes and tried to mentally call him.
Can you hear me? Raphael, it’s Red.
Silence met her.
Red tried again.
Still nothing.
She opened her eyes to find Morgan staring at her.
“Did it work?” he asked.
“Did what work?” she countered, feeling self-conscious.
“Calling Raphael,” he said as if it were obvious.
Had he heard her thoughts or guessed? Red could live with guessing, but she wasn’t sure how she’d handle another invasion of her mental privacy. It was bad enough knowing Raphael could hear her thoughts whenever he felt like it. “How did you know?” she asked.
“I’ve been trying to contact him, too,” Morgan said.
“No luck?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Do you think he’s okay?” she whispered, afraid to voice the question any louder for fear it might be true.
“Raphael is a survivor. He’s been through far worse than what Roark can throw at him,” he said.
Her shoulders slumped. “Then I guess we’re too far away to reach him. I don’t even know if I’m doing it correctly.”
“Me either,” Morgan said quietly. “But we have to keep trying. There’s no other option.” His gaze grew distant. “I need to know that Nuria is okay.”
Even after everything they’d been through, Morgan continued to take responsibility for Nuria’s wellbeing. For his sake, Red hoped the town was still standing. He wouldn’t survive its fall. The guilt would be too much.
She went back to watching the dancers twirl this way and that, their skirts flowing out away from their graceful bodies. After a few minutes, Red tuned out the music and focused her mind.
Raphael, where are you?
3
Raphael Vega sat in his rented room above the water trader bar in the town of Nuria. The plush room lay in shadows thanks to the heavy burgundy drapes covering the windows and the sun’s slow demise.
It had been a week since he’d tried to find his brother, Michael Travers. He’d attempted to telepathically contact him multiple times to no avail. He was still alive, but that was all Raphael knew for sure.
Red and Morgan should be across the boundary fence by now, if Demery had kept his end of the bargain. He’d checked the remains of Kane’s house to be sure they’d gone and hadn’t found any trace of them.
Raphael didn’t fully trust the vamp, not that Demery had given him any cause not to, but there was just something off about him.
For one thing, he was too damn cheerful. It wasn’t natural to be that happy. Not after the war. In addition to that personality flaw, it was dangerous having another genetically engineered vampire bouncing around town.
Vamps were territorial. It was part of their bioengineering. The governments had wanted solitary assassins when they created vamps and they’d gotten them. Raphael should know—he was the most territorial bastard of them all.
He rolled his shoulders. He had other things to worry about. Morgan would take care of Red. Not that Red couldn’t take care of herself—she could, but she was out of her element. She’d gone from a world of rules to one of utter chaos. She would need her inner wolf now more than ever.
A smile flitted over his lips as the word “chaos” crossed his mind. Raphael glanced at the shadowy naked figure lying in the middle of his well-used rest pad.
Catherine Meyers’ hair was a tangle of short red curls as she lay on her stomach, giving him a tantalizing view of her pale back. She made soft snuffling noises while she slept.
Raphael could make out the curve of her luscious spine as it snaked down to reveal the arc of a ripe rump and a firm thigh. Those same thighs had clutched his hips as he slid inside of her. The room still held the scent of sex and hot, moist woman. His abdomen clenched and he groaned.
He’d taken his little Chaos an hour ago, but Raphael wouldn’t know it by his body’s eager response to her nudity. He thought by now he’d be tired of the woman. Instead, his need had only grown, along with his hunger, which was a constant throbbing ache.
He’d derived great pleasure in memorizing the location of every freckle and secret spot on her. The urge to explore them again had him rising from his chair. Raphael forced himself to sit back down.
If he were prone to worry, he would be concerned about his building attachment to the woman, but Raphael had learned a long time ago to take life as it came.
His dark gaze caressed her once again and possessiveness welled inside him. He couldn’t keep her, but Raphael wasn’t quite ready to let her go. He stood and gathered his clothes, then silently dressed. A couple of minutes later, Raphael slipped out of the room, leaving Catherine fast asleep.
He pressed his palm to the door and punched several buttons. When he was done, the only way the door would open was with his code and handprint. A twinge of guilt tugged at him. Raphael quickly squashed it. It was too late for guilt, too late for a lot of things.
Raphael made his way down to the bar. Evening kept the shadows in the water trader long and deep. Its faded walls and pillars showed its true age. A few tables had been scattered throughout the room and were mainly used for customer overflow.
He looked around at the last of the patrons bellying up to the long bar to fill their orders as if nothing had changed in Nuria. Raphael didn’t know whether to be glad or upset. He settled on the latter.
The least Nuria could do was mourn the loss of its sheriff—their alpha. Morgan Hunter had led these people well. Protected them with his very life. In the end, he’d given up his freedom and so had Red. Did anyone in here acknowledge their sacrifice? No.
Raphael stared at the people standing around the bar laughing and visiting. His scowl deepened. He was about to head back upstairs to his room when Juan Sanchez and Takeo Yakamura entered. The two men had taken on responsibility for training a new Nurian Tactical Team in Red’s absence.
Juan, an average-sized man with dark cropped hair and an unnerving ability to divine the future, gave him a wave, then indicated an empty table near the back.
Raphael hesitated, then joined them.
“Any news?” Takeo asked, his almond-shaped eyes narrowing on the crowd in suspicion. He’d dumped his trench coat onto a chair and tied his long, black hair into a tight queue. His powerful Asian frame practically vibrated with unused adrenaline—thanks to the chimera living inside him.
“Nothing yet,” Raphael said. “We would’ve heard if they’d been captured.”
“How can you be so sure?” Juan asked. “Roark has done a good job of controlling the news thus far.”
“They would’ve tried to mentally contact me or at least send out a distress signal. I don’t think Morgan and Red would go quietly this time,” Raphael said. “Not after what they went through. Their bodies would’ve turned up by now if Roark had found them.”
The men’s gazes met in silent agreement.
“It’s been over a week, when are you going to release Chaos?” Juan asked.
Raphael stiffened. “When I get good and ready.”
“You can’t keep her forever. She’s not a puppy. She’s a woman. A woman who happens to be a member of the International Police Tactical Team.” Takeo absently fingered the ends of his long, black ponytail. He motioned to the man standing behind the bar, then held up three fingers. Three synth-beers arrived a minute later.
Raphael’s jaw clenched. “Don’t you think I know that?” he snapped. He didn’t want to talk about Catherine. She wasn’t their business. She was his responsibility.
“IPTT will eventually send in a squad to look for her. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already. Do you really want them raining down upon Nuria again after what just occurred?” Juan asked.
Raphael thought about it. No, he did not.
The International Police Tactical Team had swarmed the town looking for Red and Morgan. They’d arrested Red, claiming she’d been behind Morgan’s escape from prison. It had all been an elaborate ruse organized by Roark Montgomery in hopes of leveling the town. If it hadn’t been for Red’s peaceful surrender, he would’ve succeeded.
Raphael reeled in his temper. He wasn’t mad at the men—he was mad at himself. “Have you seen anything in your visions?” He didn’t take much stock in psychics, but Juan had been right about some things, so he couldn’t dismiss him outright.
“No.” Juan stared at Raphael with a pained expression, then picked up his beer and took a drink. “Nothing like that,” he said, but didn’t elaborate further.
Raphael watched him closely. There was something the psychic wasn’t telling him. He could see it clearly in Juan’s eyes. He opened his mouth to ask, but then closed it and exhaled loudly.
Truth was Raphael didn’t want to know what the future held. He’d already considered all the possibilities, including IPTT intervention. None of the scenarios he’d spun in his mind had ended well.
“I’ll make sure she’s returned,” he said.
“When?” Takeo asked.
“I told you I’d handle it! Now enough with the questions.” Raphael shoved his chair back from the table. It hit the wall behind him with a bang.
Everyone in the bar stopped what they were doing and gazed toward the commotion.
Raphael glared at the weathered faces around him.
Wariness overrode their initial curiosity and they went back to chatting, but the volume had dropped considerably.
Satisfied, Raphael turned his attention to Takeo and Juan. “You both worry about building the new tactical team and let me handle the woman.”
Juan and Takeo looked at each other, then Juan held up his hands. “You know we wouldn’t say anything, if the circumstances were different, but you’ve kidnapped an IPTT member. It’ll be a miracle if you aren’t arrested on sight.”
Raphael’s gaze cooled to a slow burn. “Don’t you think I know that? It couldn’t be helped. She’d been sent to kill Morgan and Red,” he said. “Hell, she tried to kill me. If I hadn’t subdued her, she might have succeeded.”
“We know.” They snickered. “What we don’t get is why you slept with her, when you should’ve killed her and dumped her body near the boundary fence.”
Raphael’s gut clenched at the thought of any harm coming to Catherine. He flashed his fangs and hissed.
“Knock it off, dumbass,” Takeo said. “You aren’t the only one in the room with fangs.” He opened his mouth wide enough to expose his large feline incisors.
A deep sound rumbled out of Raphael’s chest.
“Terrific,” Takeo snapped. “You’ve woken the chimera. You happy now?” A hiss punctuated his words as the viper uncoiled from his back and slipped out from beneath his shirt. A forked tongue slashed the air and the snake’s head rose over his shoulder in preparation to strike.
“What’s next? You going to whip off your shirt and show me the goat’s head poking out of your rib cage?” Raphael dismissed the threat.
“The only goat trait I have is in the form of my libido.” Takeo smirked.
“I’m sure it’s just as quick, too.” Raphael snorted.
“Fuck off,” Takeo shot back.
“Children, play nice,” Juan said. “Or you can’t sit at the big kids’ table.”
“Put your toys away, chimera.” Raphael wiggled his fingers. “I’m in no mood to tangle.” He pulled his chair away from the wall and dropped into it.
He wasn’t mad at Takeo for stating the obvious. Raphael had been asking himself the same question since he’d found out the truth about Catherine’s murderous deeds. She’d killed two people and tried to frame Red for murder.
Why hadn’t he killed her?
She was trouble in more ways than one. His nature warred with his compassion and his nature had lost. Badly. It was a first. Which was why he’d resorted to picking fights and grasping at straws for answers.
“He started it,” Takeo said.
“I’m ending it,” Juan said.
Raphael sipped his beer as he gathered his thoughts. “Catherine helped us break Red and Morgan out of Roark’s prison. I don’t think she’s going to be quick to turn me in for detaining her, since she’d have to implicate herself.”
Takeo shook his head. “I wouldn’t bet it on it. She tried to kill you once. What makes you think she won’t do it again?”
Raphael considered his question. “A feeling.”
“You’re joking, right?” Takeo laughed. “Do you really think you should base your future and the future of this town on a feeling?”
“No, but I’m going to anyway,” Raphael said.
“You are kurutta, man,” Takeo said.
Juan quietly watched the exchange, then glanced at Takeo to silence him. “He’s not crazy, but I do believe our vamp has a case of bloodlust happening.”
Raphael flushed. Not an easy feat for one such as him. “I do not...I-I am not...It’s preposterous,” he denied.
Lust was definitely involved in his decision to detain Catherine, but there was more to it than that. An elusive more that didn’t have a name as of yet. Whatever it turned out to be, Raphael wouldn’t be discussing it with the likes of these two.
“I’d better get back to the room.” He downed his beer and rose from the table. “I don’t want her to wake without me being there.”
Takeo’s brow arched and he glanced at his watch. “Has she been asleep all day?”
Raphael grinned. “Not all day. I woke her up a time or two.”
“How much blood did you take from her?” Takeo asked.
Raphael’s smile widened. “It wasn’t the blood loss that wore her out.”
Juan and Takeo laughed, then quickly covered the sound with coughs as people at the bar looked their way.
“Enjoy your beers,” Raphael said, then left to go back upstairs, but not before snagging a canteen of water off the bar.
Let them have a laugh at his expense. It didn’t matter. They did not understand that the situation with Catherine called for care and finesse.
When he was out of view, Takeo turned to Juan. “Man, he has it bad.”
Juan nodded in agreement. “Vamps are normally detached from their food,” he said.
Takeo chuckled. “She means more than food to him. Did you see how he nearly took my head off at the mention of killing her?”
“Yep.” Juan played with the label on his beer. “I’ve seen this in the wolves. Not a surprise given they are pack animals. But never in a vamp.”
“Seen what?” Takeo asked. “Insanity?”
“Some may call it that. Others call it the drive to bond—to mate.”
Takeo looked back toward the stairs. “Do you think he knows?”
Juan laughed. “Nope, but I do think he’s beginning to suspect something is up. He’s wound pretty tight.”
“What’ll happen if she leaves him?” Takeo asked.
“Depends.” Juan shrugged.
“On what?” he asked.
“On where she goes and if she plans to come back. I’m pretty sure he’d be able to track her blood anywhere on the planet, now that he’s tasted her. And if Raphael is bonding to her like I suspect, he won’t let her go easily—if ever.”
