Lover Unleashed

FIFTY-THREE

Manny was behind the wheel of his car, hands cranked down hard, eyes sharp on the road in front of him, when he took a tight turn . . . and drove right into exactly the kind of scene Vishous had described.

About. Fucking. Time. It had taken him only a good three hours of making boxes and boxes around block after block after cocksucking block to run across the damn thing.

But yeah, this was what he was looking for: In the ten a.m. sunlight that bled in between the buildings, a slick, oily mess gleamed all over the pavement and the brick walls and the Dumpster and those chicken-wired windows.

Popping the clutch, he flipped the gearshift into neutral and hit the brakes.

The instant he opened the door, he recoiled. “Fucking hell . . .”

The stench was indescribable. Likely because it shot directly into his nose and shut down his brain, it was so frickin’ awful.

But he did recognize it. The guy with the Sox hat had reeked of it that night Manny had operated on the vampires.

Cocking his phone, he called up Vishous’s supersecret number and hit send. The line barely rang once before Payne’s twin answered.

“I got it,” Manny said. “It’s everything you told me about—man, the smell. Right. Yeah. Got it. Talk to you in two.”

As he hung up, part of him was losing it, thinking of Payne’s possibly have been involved in what was clearly a bloodbath. But he kept it together as he searched around for something, anything, that could tell them what had happened—

“Manny?”

“Motherfucker!” As he spun on his heel, he grabbed his cross—or maybe it was his heart, so the damn thing didn’t break out from behind his sternum. “Jane?”

The ghostly form of his former head of trauma solidified before his eyes. “Hi.”

His first thought was, Oh, God, the sun—which showed just how much his life had changed. “Wait! Are you okay with daylight—”

“I’m fine.” She reached out and calmed him. “I’ve come to help—V told me where you were.”

He gripped her shoulder briefly. “I am . . . really fucking glad to see you.”

Jane gave him a quick, hard hug. “We’re going to find her. I promise.”

Yeah, but what kind of condition was she going to be in?

Working together, the pair of them scoured the alleyway, weaving in and out of both the shadows and the lit parts. Thank God it was still early and this was a deserted part of the city, because he was not in a mind-set where he could deal with the complication of people—especially the police—showing up.

Over the next half hour, he and Jane went through every square inch of the alley, but all they found were the remnants of drug use, some litter and a number of condoms he had no intention of looking very closely at.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Goddamn nothing.”

Fine. Whatever. He was just going to keep moving, keep combing, keep hoping—

A rattling sound snapped his head around and then took him over to the Dumpster.

“Something’s making a noise over here,” he called out as he knelt down. Except knowing their luck, it was nothing more than a rat having breakfast.

Jane came over just as he reached under the bin. “I think . . . I think it’s a phone,” he grunted as he stretched and paddled with his fingertips, hoping to get purchase—“Got it.”

Easing back, he found that, yup, it was a busted-up cell phone and the thing was ringing on vibrate, which explained the noise. Unfortunately, whoever was calling dumped into voice mail just as he tried to hit answer and got locked out.

“Man, there’s inky shit all over it.” He wiped his hand clean on the edge of the Dumpster—which was saying something. “And the thing’s password-protected.”

“We need to take it back to V—he can hack into anything.”

Manny got to his feet and looked over at her. “I don’t know if I’m allowed there.” He tried to hand the phone over. “Here. You take it, and I’ll see if I can find any other sites like this.”

Although honestly, it seemed like he’d been through all of downtown.

“Wouldn’t you rather know what’s going on firsthand?”

“Fuck, yeah, but—”

“And if V finds something, wouldn’t you rather go out to deal with it with the right equipment?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“So haven’t you ever heard of doing something and apologizing after the fact?” As he popped a brow, she shrugged. “It’s how I dealt with you at the hospital for years.”

Manny tightened his hand on the cell phone. “Are you serious?”

“I’ll drive us back to the compound, and if anyone has a problem, I’ll take care of it. And may I suggest we stop by your house first and get anything you might need to stay a while?”

He slowly shook his head. “If she doesn’t come—”

“No. We don’t say ‘doesn’t.’ ” Jane’s eyes were dead on his. “When she comes home, no matter how long it takes, you will be there. V said you’ve left your job—because Payne told him. And we can talk about that later—”

“There’s nothing to discuss. The St. Francis board all but asked me to resign.”

Jane swallowed hard. “Oh, God . . . Manny . . .”

Christ, he couldn’t believe what came out of his mouth: “It doesn’t matter, Jane. As long as she comes back okay—that’s all I care about.”

She nodded over at the car. “So why are we still talking?”

Good fucking point.

They both ran for the Porsche, strapped in, and took off with Jane behind the wheel.

As she sped over to the Commodore, he was transformed by purpose: He’d blown his shot with his woman once. It was not happening again.

Jane live-parked in front of the high-rise while he jogged into the foyer, shot up the elevator, and hit his place. Moving lightning-fast, he grabbed his laptop, his cell phone charger—

The safe.

Gunning for the closet in his room, he cracked the combo and unlatched the little door. With quick hands and a rock-solid mind, he took out his birth certificate, seven thousand dollars in cash, two gold Piaget watches, and his passport. Dragging over a random bag, he crammed all of that into the thing, along with his computer and charger. Then he picked up two more duffels that were all but throwing up clothes and blasted out of his condo.

As he waited for the elevator, he realized he was checking out of his life. For good. Whether he ended up with Payne or not, he was not returning here—and that wasn’t just about the physical address.

The moment he’d given his keys to Jane, for the second time, he’d turned a corner in a metaphorical snowstorm: He had no idea what was in front of him, but there was no going back, and he was fine with that.

Back down on the street, he tossed his shit into the trunk and the rear seat. “Let’s do this.”

About thirty-five minutes later, Manny was once again in the foggy terrain of the vampires’ mountain.

Glancing down at the near-ruined cell phone in his palm, he prayed to God that this possible link between him and Payne brought them back together again—and gave him a shot at what he’d thrown away—

“Holy . . . shit . . .” Up ahead, emerging from out of the strange haze, a tremendous pile of rock loomed, big as Rushmore. “That’s a . . . fucking house.”

Mausoleum was another word for it.

“The Brothers take security very seriously.” Jane pulled the car up in front of a set of stairs that was worthy of a cathedral.

“Either that,” he muttered, “or someone’s in-laws have a quarry.”

They got out together, and before he snagged his bags, he surveyed the landscape. The retaining wall that led off in both directions rose to a good twenty feet off the ground, and there were cameras all over its exterior, as well as twists of barbwire across the top. The mansion itself was enormous, sprawling in all directions, looking to be four stories high. And talk about a fortress: All the windows were covered with sheets of metal, and those double doors? Looked like you’d need a tank to get through them.

There were a number of cars in the courtyard, some of which, under other circumstances, he’d have had a serious jones for, and also another, far smaller house made from the same stone as the castle. The fountain in the center was dry, but he could imagine the peaceful sounds it would make as the water fell.

“This way,” Jane said as she popped the trunk and took out one of his duffels.

“I’ll get that.” He took what she’d grabbed, as well as the other two. “Ladies first.”

She’d called her man on the way in, so Manny had a pretty good idea that Payne’s people weren’t going to kill him outright. But who could tell for sure?

Good thing he didn’t give a shit about himself right now.

At the grand entrance, she rang the bell and a lock switched open. Stepping inside with her, he found himself in a windowless vestibule that made him think of a jail . . . a very classy, expensive jail with handcarved wood panels and the scent of lemon in the air.

No way they were coming out of this space unless someone let them.

Jane spoke into a camera. “It’s us. We’re—”

The second set of doors was cracked immediately, and Manny had to blink a couple of times as the way in was opened. The brilliant, colorful foyer on the far side was nothing he’d expected: Majestic and with all the hues of the rainbow, it was everything the fortified exterior was not. And dear Lord, it seemed like every conceivable type of decorative marble and stone had been used . . . and holy shit from all the crystal and the gold leafing.

Then he stepped inside and saw the frescoed ceiling three stories up . . . and a staircase that made the one from Gone With the Wind look like a stepladder.

Just as the door shut behind him, Payne’s brother came out of what looked like a poolroom, with Red Sox by his side. As the vampire strode forward, he was all business as he put a hand-rolled between his fangs and jacked up his black leathers.

Stopping in front of Manny, the two of them locked eyes . . . until you had to wonder if it was all going to be over before it started—with Manny being made a meal of.

Except then the vampire held out his palm.

Of course—the cell phone.

Manny dropped his bags and took the BlackBerry out of his coat pocket. “Here—this is—”

The guy accepted what was offered but didn’t look at the thing. He just shifted it over to his free hand and put his palm out again.

The gesture was so very simple; its meaning very, very deep.

Manny grabbed for that palm with his own, and neither of them said anything. No reason to have to because the communication was clear: Respect was paid and accepted on both sides.

When they dropped palms, Manny said, “The phone?”

For the vampire, getting into the thing was the work of a moment.

“Jesus . . . you’re fast,” Manny murmured.

“No. This is the one I gave her. I was calling it every hour on the hour. The GPS is busted—otherwise I would have given you the addy you found it in.”

“Fuck.” Manny rubbed his face. “There was nothing else there. Jane and I combed the alley—and I’ve driven around downtown for hours. What now?”

“We wait. It’s all we can do while the sunlight is out. But the instant we go dark, the Brotherhood is tearing out of here with a vengeance. We’ll find her, don’t you worry—”

“I’m coming too,” he said. “Just so we’re clear.”

As Payne’s twin started shaking his head, Manny cut any protesting, be-reasonable shit off. “Sorry. That might be your sister out there . . . but she’s my woman. And that means I’m going to be a part of this.”

At that, the one with the baseball cap took off his hat and smoothed his hair. “Shit on a shingle—”

Manny froze in place, the rest of what the guy said not registering at all.

That face . . . that fucking face.

That—holy shit—face.

Manny had been wrong about where he’d seen the guy.

“What?” the guy said, glancing down at himself.

Manny was vaguely aware of Payne’s brother frowning and Jane looking worried. But his focus was on the other man. He searched those hazel eyes, that mouth, and that chin, trying to find something that didn’t fit, something out of place . . . something that disproved the two-plus-two-is-four he was rocking.

The only thing that was even slightly off was the nose—but that was just because it had been broken at least once.

The truth was in the bones.

And the connection was not the hospital or even St. Patrick’s Cathedral—because come to think of it, he had definitely seen this man, male . . . vampire, whatever . . . at church before.

“What the hell?” Butch muttered, looking at Vishous.

By way of explanation, Manny bent down and rifled through his bags. As he searched for what he hadn’t intentionally brought with him, he knew without a doubt he was going to find it. Fate had lined these dominos up too perfectly for this moment not to happen.

And yup, there it was.

As Manny straightened, his hands were shaking so badly that the picture frame’s bracer flapped against the back of the matting.

Given that his voice was gone, all he could do was turn the glass around and give the three of them a chance to look at the black-and-white photograph.

Which was the spitting image of the male named Butch.

“This is my father,” Manny said roughly.

The guy’s expression went from yeah, whatever to bald, blanching shock, and his hands started trembling as well as he reached out and carefully took the old picture.

He didn’t bother denying anything. He couldn’t.

Payne’s brother exhaled a cloud of wonderful-smelling smoke. “Fucking. A.”

Well, didn’t that just sum it all up nicely.

Manny glanced at Jane and then eyed the man who might well be a half brother. “Do you recognize him?”

When the guy slowly shook his head, Manny looked over at Payne’s twin. “Can humans and vampires . . .”

“Yup.”

As he went back to staring at a face that shouldn’t have been so familiar, he thought, Shit, how did he put this. “So are you . . .”

“A half-breed?” the guy said. “Yeah. My mother was human.”

“Son of a bitch,” Manny breathed.