The Way You Bite(40)

Lexan said, “The vampire is my business.”

“She’s a Scarpa set to marry a DiFalco. You trying to figure out a way to stop the war?”

“Perhaps.”

“All right, it’s your biz. I’m leaving, but I came by to warn you Julio isn’t happy about you here.” Ryder pivoted.

Lexan caught his arm. “I want you to visit us in Europe. Call Eric. He’ll make arrangements. Bring your female. The war here is about to get more dangerous.”

Ryder’s gaze dropped. “I don’t know…I’ll think about it.” He left.

He grinned. It was the first time Ryder let him in since he and his wife separated.

Eric arrived, panting.

“What’s wrong?” It had to be Vee.

“Ambrose took her. One of his guys knocked her out. At least TC said he hoped she was alive.”

Dead? His chest locked up for an instant, followed swiftly by the need to pulverize someone. “We go now. Full tactical.”

“It’ll be world war if we attack Ambrose.”

“Then let it be war.”





Chapter Fifteen


The novelty of passing out and waking up somewhere new had officially worn off.

Instant vamp unconsciousness. Very cool trick, but she’d never heard of it. She lifted her head from the leather backseat of a sleek fast-moving sedan. The early morning sunlight didn’t burn her, which suggested deep window tinting.

“Do not attempt to escape. We are almost there,” said Mr. British Accent from the front seat.

“Almost where?” she asked, not expecting an answer. The passing scenery of the rural road gave no helpful clues on location. One had only to travel twenty to thirty minutes outside of Charlotte in almost any direction to end up in farm town America. Quaint, but not helpful when trying to gain a sense of locale.

The tattoo on her captor’s neck labeled him as a DiFalco guard. Only the most devoted to the ancient Italian family were granted the distinctive mark.

Perspiration dripped down her back. Ambrose had resorted to kidnapping her, which meant he’d be pissed when they faced off. He didn’t like anyone, especially her, ignoring his summons. Her phone… Crap, she’d forgotten to reply to him before torching it in her car.

She had to think her way out of this before seeing Ambrose. If he saw the mark on her shoulder, he’d kill her.

The drive ended at a dirt road she recognized from the two times she’d visited Ambrose at this off-the-grid retreat. Each of those private meetings involved the specifics of their “arrangement.” She’d picked up details of his liaisons out West from his thoughts and used it. He respected the move, even complimented her on her intel. In his mind it made her a better candidate for his wife.

The automatic fence opened onto a reclaimed old farm. No animals roamed the pastures. No one was here long enough to maintain animals. The entry fence’s surveillance had been spiffed up since the last time she’d been here six months ago.

The British vamp opened her door and leered a make-my-day grin as if he wanted her to attempt escape. He reached for her as if to drag her into the house.

“Don’t touch me.” She held up her hand as she exited the car. “I’ll follow you inside, but if you touch me, I’ll get angry.” She attempted her best imitation of Dominic’s scary smile.

His eyes widened. He backed up a step.

Way to go on intimidation. Those years of defying Dominic paid off.

He led her into the recently updated kitchen of the main house, now stocked with a full bevy of stainless steel appliances. She thought it odd Ambrose wanted it updated. Vamps weren’t into cooking. Sure, they could eat real food but preferred something red, liquid, and uncooked.

The British guy asked, “Breakfast?” He poured blood from a pitcher into a juice glass.

She sniffed, catching something off with the blood, probably chemical. “No thanks. I had something earlier.”

Her mouth watered, remembering the taste of Lexan’s blood.

The guy snickered. “I know. You’ve got the glow. I thought Dominic forbade everyone from feeding from a source?”

“I fell off the wagon. Sometimes a girl needs a bit of excitement.”

“Amen to that,” he whispered so low she almost missed it.

Vee took a seat in one of the red barstool-height chairs at the kitchen island. “Where’s Ambrose?”

The kitchen door swung wide. Ambrose sauntered in, looking the epitome of metrosexual in his designer black sweater and tailored slacks. There weren’t many males who could pull off cashmere, but no one would accuse him of being effeminate to his face.

He held his hands wide. “Vee, welcome home.” His mouth tipped into a feral grin, which had her on instant alert.

“Why are you out here and not in town?” She concentrated to slow her heart rate.

“I thought we needed a bit of privacy to sort out things before we meet with Dominic.”

“Us out here is for my benefit?”

“Your father was displeased you missed the meeting. We were both concerned when your car was found. Where have you been?”

Ambrose leaned causally against the kitchen counter. The look that passed over his face before he fell into his usual mask of empathy was one she knew well, having seen it countless times on Dominic. Manipulative speculation.