Kiss of Midnight

CHAPTER Twenty

She didn’t know how long they’d been driving, or even in what direction. They were still in the city, that much she could tell, but the many turns and back alley routes that Lucan took had since become a jumble in Gabrielle’s mind. She stared out the dark-tinted window of the sedan, vaguely aware that they were slowing down at last, approaching what appeared to be the expansive grounds of an old estate.

Lucan braked outside a tall, black-iron gate. Twin beams of red light shot down from a pair of small devices perched on both sides of the high-security perimeter fence. Gabrielle blinked away the sudden shot of light that flashed in front of her face, then watched as the heavy gate began to slide open.

“This is yours?” she asked, turning to speak to Lucan for the first time since they’d left her apartment. “I’ve been here before. I took a photograph of this gate.”

They rolled through, then up a long, curving, tree-lined driveway.

“The estate is part of our compound. It belongs to the Breed.”

Evidently, being a vampire was quite lucrative. Even in the dark, Gabrielle could see the old-money quality of the well-tended grounds and the ornately carved limestone work on the pale façade of the mansion as they approached. Double rotundas flanked the lacquered black doors and soaring portico of the main entrance, above which rose four elegant stories.

Ambient light glowed from many of the arched windows, but Gabrielle hesitated to call the effect welcoming. The mansion loomed like a watchful sentry in the gloom of the surrounding night, stoic and forbidding, with its collection of snarling gargoyles that stared down from the roof and twin balconies overlooking the drive.

Lucan wheeled past the front entrance and around to a large hangar in the back. A gate lifted, and he rolled the purring Maybach to a stop inside, then cut the engine. A row of lights went on as the two of them climbed out of the car, the soft clicks of motion sensors illuminating a fleet of glossy, high-end machinery.

Gabrielle gaped in astonishment. Between the Maybach, which cost about as much as her modest Beacon Hill condo, and the collection of cars, SUVs, and motorcycles, she had to be looking at millions of dollars’ worth of vehicles. Multimillions.

“This way,” Lucan said, the duffel bag of photographs gripped in his hand as he guided her past the impressive fleet to an unmarked door near the back of the garage.

“Just how rich are you people?” she asked, trailing after him in amazement.

Lucan gestured for her to enter as the door opened then he followed her inside the elevator and pushed a button on the console. “Some members of the vampire nation have been around a very long time. We’ve learned a few things about managing our money wisely.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, feeling a little off balance as the elevator began a smooth but swift descent, down, and down, and down. “How do you keep all of this hidden from the public? What about the government and taxes? Or are you strictly a cash-and-carry operation?”

“The public can’t get past our security, even if they tried. The entire perimeter of the grounds is wired. Anyone foolish enough to get close to the compound would get a fourteen-thousand-volt ass kicking and a mind scrub. We pay our taxes—through fronted corporations, of course. Our properties around the world are owned by private trusts. Everything the Breed does is legit and aboveboard.”

“Legit and aboveboard. Right.” She laughed, a bit nervously. “Just nevermind all the bloodsucking or the extraterrestrial lineage.”

Lucan leveled a dark glance on her, but she was relieved to see the corner of his mouth lift in something that might have passed for a smile.

“I’ll take the backups now,” he said, his penetratingly clear gray eyes watching her as she dug the memory sticks out of her jeans pocket and placed them in his hand.

He let his fingers close around hers for a second. Gabrielle felt heat in his touch, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. She didn’t want to admit what just the slightest brush of his skin made her feel, even now.

Especially now.

The elevator finally came to a stop, and the door slid open to reveal a pristine room constructed of glass walls reinforced with gleaming metal frames. The floor was white marble, inlaid with a series of geometric symbols and interlocking designs. She recognized some of the designs as similar to the ones that Lucan bore on his body—those strange, beautiful tattoos that covered his back and torso.

No, not tattoos, she realized now, but something… else.

Vampire markings.

On his skin, and here, in this underground bunker where he lived.

Beyond the elevator, a corridor stretched and wended along a path that must have been several hundred yards long. Lucan paused to look at Gabrielle when she hesitated to follow him.

“You’re safe here,” he said, and God help her, but she actually believed him.

She walked out onto the snowy marble with Lucan, holding her breath as he placed his palm against an authentication panel and the glass doors ahead of him opened. Cool air bathed Gabrielle and she could hear a muffled rumble of male voices talking somewhere down the hall. Lucan led her toward the deep rhythm of conversation, his long stride sharp and purposeful.

He paused in front of another glass door, and as Gabrielle drew next to him, she saw what appeared to be a control room of sorts. There were monitors and computers lining a long, U-shaped console, digital readers flashing some kind of coordinates from another bank of equipment, and in the center of it all, moving on his rolling chair between the many workstations like a concert maestro, was a geeky-looking young man, his cropped blond hair spiked around his head in amusing disarray. He glanced up, crisp blue eyes registering a greeting, and then mild surprise, as the door slid open and Lucan strode inside with Gabrielle beside him.

“Gideon,” Lucan said, inclining his head in a nod.

So, this was the associate he had spoken of, Gabrielle thought, noting the easy smile and friendly demeanor of the other man. He got up from his chair and nodded his head at Lucan and then at Gabrielle.

Gideon was tall and lean, with boyish good looks and obvious charm. Nothing like Lucan. Nothing at all like she would imagine a vampire to be, not that she had a lot of experience in that area.

“Is he—”

“Yes,” Lucan answered, before she could whisper the rest of her question. He put the duffel bag down on a table. “Gideon is of the Breed. As are the others.”

It was then that Gabrielle noticed the conversation she’d heard in the room on their approach had since gone silent.

She felt more eyes on her from somewhere at her back, and as she turned to face the source of the sensation, all the breath seemed to be sucked from her lungs. Three large men occupied the space behind her: one in dark, tailored pants and a loose silk shirt, elegantly sprawled in a leather club chair; another wearing head-to-toe black leather, thick arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the back wall; and the last, in jeans and a white tee-shirt, was hunched over a table where he’d been cleaning the disassembled parts of some complicated type of handgun.

They were all staring at her.

“Dante,” Lucan said, indicating the broody one in leather, who gave her a slight nod of greeting—or maybe it was more of a male appraisal, based on the lift of his dark brows as his sly gaze returned to Lucan.

“The gearhead over there is Nikolai.” At Lucan’s introduction, the sandy-haired male offered Gabrielle a quick smile. He had starkly cut features, amazing cheekbones, and a strong, stubborn jaw. Even as he looked at her, his nimble fingers were working flawlessly on the weapon, as if he knew the components of the piece instinctually.

“And that’s Rio,” Lucan said, turning her attention to the smolderingly handsome one with the immaculate sense of style. From his casual lounge in the chair, he sent her a dazzling smile that oozed with innate sex appeal, with an unmistakable current of danger behind his topaz-colored eyes.

That threat emanated from each of them, their muscular builds and unconcealed weapons giving the distinct warning that despite their relaxed appearances here, these were men accustomed to battle. They might even thrive on it.

Lucan placed his hand on the small of Gabrielle’s back, startling her with the sudden contact as he brought her closer to him before these three other males. She wasn’t totally sure she trusted him yet, but as it stood, he was her sole ally in a room full of armed vampires.

“This is Gabrielle Maxwell. For the time being, she will be staying at the compound.”

He left the statement hanging without further explanation, as if he dared any one of the lethal-looking men to question him. None did. Watching Lucan, a commanding force in the midst of so much dark strength and power, Gabrielle realized that he was not merely one of these warriors.

He was their leader.

Gideon was the first to speak. He had come around from behind the computers and monitors and offered Gabrielle his hand. “Good to meet you,” he said, his voice tinged with a vaguely English accent. “Fast thinking, getting those cell pictures of the attack you witnessed. They’ve been a big help to us.”

“Um, no problem.”

She briefly shook his hand, surprised to find him so personable. So normal.

But then, Lucan had seemed relatively normal to her as well, and look how that turned out. At least he hadn’t been lying entirely when he told her he’d taken her cell phone into the lab for analysis. He’d only neglected to tell her it was a vampire CSI lab, and not the Boston police.

A loud beep sounded from the bank of computers nearby, spurring Gideon into a quick jog back to his monitors.

“Yes! You beautiful bucket of bolts,” he shouted, dropping into a spin in his chair. “Guys, you’ll want to see this. Especially you, Niko.”

Lucan and the other warriors gathered around the monitor that bathed Gideon’s face in a pale blue glow. Gabrielle, feeling a bit awkward standing alone in the center of the room, slowly trailed over as well.

“I just hacked into the security feeds over at the T,” Gideon said. “Now, let’s see if we can get some footage from the other night, maybe find out what the bastard who took out Conlan was really about.”

Gabrielle watched quietly from the periphery as several computer screens filled with closed-circuit images from a handful of the city’s train platforms, the feed scrolling by in fast-forward motion. Gideon rolled his chair along the line of workstations, pausing to type commands onto several of the keyboards before continuing on to the next, and then the next. Finally, his frenetic energy came to a halt.

“Okay, here we go. Green Line, coming up.” He backed away from the monitor in front of him, allowing the others a clear view. “This is footage of the platform beginning three minutes before the confrontation.”

Lucan and the others closed in as the feed displayed an influx of people pouring on and off the train. Peering between the massive sets of shoulders, Gabrielle caught the now familiar face of Nikolai on the monitor screen as he and his companion, a menacingly large male outfitted in dark leather, strode onto the commuter car. They had hardly gotten seated before one of the other passengers caught the attention of Nikolai’s companion. The two warriors stood up, and just before the doors closed for departure, the guy they’d been watching suddenly leaped out of the car and onto the platform. Onscreen, Nikolai and the other man jumped to their feet, but Gabrielle’s attention was rooted on the person they meant to follow.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped. “I know that guy.”

Five pairs of hard male eyes turned toward her in question.

“I mean, I don’t know him personally, but I’ve seen him before. I know his name. It’s Brent—at least, that’s what he told my friend Kendra. She met him at the dance club the night I witnessed the killing. She’s been seeing him every night since, pretty seriously, in fact.”

“You’re certain?” Lucan asked.

“Yes. That’s him, I’m positive.”

The warrior called Dante hissed a violent oath.

“He’s a Rogue,” Lucan said. “Or rather, was. A couple of nights ago, he walked onto the Green Line train wearing a belt of explosives. Niko and another of our brethren chased him down an old track. He blew himself up before they could take him out. One of our best warriors died with him.”

“Oh, God. You mean that unexplained explosion I heard about on the news?” She looked at Nikolai, whose hard jaw was clamped tight. “I’m very sorry.”

“If not for Conlan throwing himself on that suckhead coward, I wouldn’t be standing here. That’s for damn sure.”

Gabrielle was truly saddened for the loss Lucan and his men had suffered, but a new dread had lodged itself in her chest when she thought of how close her friend had come to the kind of evil Brent had apparently delivered.

What if Kendra was hurt? What if he had done something to her, and she needed help?

“I have to call her.” Gabrielle started digging in her purse for her cell phone. “I have to call Kendra right now and make sure she’s all right.”

Lucan’s hand clamped down around her wrist, firmly yet beseechingly. “I’m sorry, Gabrielle. I can’t let you do that.”

“She’s my friend, Lucan. And I’m sorry, but you can’t stop me.”

Gabrielle flipped open the phone, more resolved than ever to make the call. Before she could dial Kendra’s number, the device flew from her fingers and appeared in Lucan’s hand. He closed it, then slipped the phone into his jacket pocket.

“Gideon,” he said conversationally, even while his steely gaze remained locked on Gabrielle. “Ask Savannah to come and see Gabrielle to more comfortable quarters while we finish here. Get her something to eat.”

“Give it back to me,” Gabrielle said, ignoring the current of surprise that ran through the other men when she challenged Lucan’s attempt to control her. “I need to know that she’s okay, Lucan.”

He came toward her, and for a second she feared what he might do to her as he reached out to touch her face. In front of the others, he stroked her cheek tenderly, possessively. He spoke softly. “Your friend’s well-being is out of your hands. If she’s not yet been bled dry by this Rogue—and believe me, that’s a very real possibility—then he poses no further danger to her now.”

“But what if he did something to her? What if he turned her into one of those Minions?”

Lucan shook his head. “Only the most powerful of our kind can create Minions. That gutter trash who blew himself up in the tunnel was incapable. He was nothing but an expendable pawn.”

Gabrielle moved out of his caress despite the comfort his touch gave her. “What if that’s how he saw Kendra? What if he turned her over to someone who does have more power than him?”

Lucan’s expression was grim, but unwavering. His tone was as gentle as she’d ever heard it, which only made his words harder to accept. “Then you should forget her entirely, because she is already as good as dead.”