The Cyn & Raphael Novellas Page 8

  Brian made a face. “Don’t get your hopes up. He probably wore gloves. But even if that’s his bottle, and even if I can get a fingerprint, it won’t do me any good unless it’s on file somewhere we can access.”

  “How long before we know?”

  “As soon as I get back to the lab I’ll know if I have a workable print. But then I have to lift it off and send it through the various databases looking for a match. And we still don’t know this is even from our guy.”

  Cyn nodded, but she didn’t believe him. This was from their shooter. She knew it in her gut.

  “Okay, call me with anything as soon as you have it. We’re leaving at sunset.”

  “Right. I’m going with you, but don’t worry. The communication suites on Raphael’s jets are second to none. Even if an ID pops while we’re in the air, I’ll know about it. Assuming one does.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” What was it with scientists, anyway? Always wanting proof. Sheesh.

  She grinned at the thought and was still grinning as she punched in the security code that let her back into the vault where Raphael slept soundly. They had their potential assassin. And it was only a matter of time before they had him in chains where he belonged.

  CONFIRMATION CAME in mid-air as they flew back to California. Cyn was half-dozing, a book on her lap and her head on Raphael’s shoulder. Between their early-morning trip out to the site and her excitement at what they’d found, she hadn’t gotten much sleep during the day, and she was looking forward to sleeping in her own bed later tonight.

  Across the aisle, Jared sudden began speaking rapidly into his Bluetooth headset. He looked over at her, then shifted his gaze to Raphael in some sort of silent understanding. She frowned, glancing from one to the other of them, before her attention was snagged by the sight of Juro making his way up the aisle, his head bowed to avoid brushing it against the private jet’s ceiling.

  “My lord,” Juro said, addressing Raphael, though he nodded to Cyn, as well. “We’ve identified the shooter.”

  A jolt of adrenaline had Cyn feeling abruptly wide awake. “A fingerprint?”

  “Thumbprint,” he corrected, “but yes. His name is Luther Mars. He is former military as we suspected, but the print ID came through from his arrest records in two separate states.”

  “Did he do time?”

  “Several years on the latest charge, which was in Illinois, accessory before the fact to murder. It was his first felony, and he cooperated for a lighter sentence. That was cut further by a parole release. He was apparently a model prisoner. The previous two convictions were minor offenses in Minnesota, plea bargained to time served and probation.”

  “Where is he now?” she asked, squeezing Raphael’s hand.

  “Unknown. He missed his last two dates with his parole officer, and there is currently a warrant out for his arrest.”

  “That doesn’t help us much,” Jared commented. He’d risen from his seat and now stood next to Juro with a concerned scowl.

  “It’ll get us more of an assist from the local PDs,” Cyn offered.

  Juro nodded. “I’ll make sure it’s circulated. In the meantime, my lord—”

  “I’m not going to cower behind walls, Juro. Everything proceeds.”

  Juro glanced at Cyn and looked like he wanted to say something else, but ultimately he bowed to Raphael’s wishes with a nod. “As you say, my lord.”

  Cyn watched the big vampire make his way back to where Brian the tech was working enthusiastically on two separate computers, apparently not suffering at all from the sleep deprivation that had her feeling foggy-headed. Jared gave them a nod, then joined Juro in the back, where the two of them quickly sank deep into conversation.

  Cyn observed a few minutes more, then turned and met Raphael’s shuttered gaze. “What’s up, Raphael? Something’s going on.”

  He shrugged dismissively. “Juro would have me remain safe within the Malibu estate until this Luther Mars person is captured. I refuse to do so.”

  “Why? What’s the hurry to get out? There are lots of nights when you do business from inside the estate and never leave. Why is this any different?”

  “It’s a matter of principle, my Cyn. Luther Mars was hired by Klemens to kill me. Or rather Klemens ordered one of his vampires to hire him, but the fact remains . . . Klemens tried to assassinate me. I cannot permit him, or anyone else, to believe I am frightened of this assassin, or that Klemens has succeeded in forcing me to cower within the walls of my own home.”

  Cyn studied him silently. He met her gaze, his black eyes as careful as they ever were, giving away nothing. Raphael was good at that, at keeping secrets. Even from her.

  “That’s all this is,” she said. “Vampire politics. You and Jared don’t have some covert plan to bait this guy like you talked about yesterday?”

  “No plan, my Cyn. I promise.”

  Cyn nodded, wordlessly accepting his assurance. But as she settled back into her seat and stared out at the black sky beyond the window, she couldn’t help but remember the look of silent understanding that Raphael and Jared had exchanged when the assassin’s ID first came through. And she wondered whether Raphael’s promises to her meant as much as she’d always thought they did.

  Chapter Four

  Malibu, California

  “WHAT DAY IS TODAY?”

  Cyn glanced up at Raphael’s muttered question. It was their first full night home, and they were sitting in his office, both of them going through a week’s worth of accumulated mail. Anything urgent had been forwarded by Raphael’s staff, but that still left substantial piles of mail and messages to wade through.

  Half of it went right into the shredder to be recycled. She’d only heard Raphael’s mutter because it had fallen into a lull in the whirring blades.

  Cyn thought for a moment. “Wednesday, why?”

  Raphael was flicking a formal invitation between his fingers. The heavy white stock and gold framing looked familiar, and she realized she had an identical invitation in her own mail. She picked it up and slid a fingernail beneath the envelope flap, then eyed the invitation it contained.

  “You want to go to a charity ball?” she asked in surprise.

  “Not really,” he admitted. “But this is one of Dakin Corporation’s pet charities. Their entire board will be there, including Marty Holdrige, who’s heading up the new slate at the shareholder’s meeting. I wouldn’t mind meeting him in person to get a better feel for his character.”

  “As in, you want to read his mind to see if he’s a crook or not.”

  Raphael looked up and flashed her a devastating grin. “That, too.” He seemed to notice for the first time that she held the same invite. “You’re a shareholder, my Cyn?”

  “Apparently. Probably one of those family trust things. If you’re nice to me, I’ll vote my shares with you.”

  He gave her a smoldering look—and no one could smolder like Raphael. “I promise to be very nice to you.”

  Cyn’s heart fluttered in her chest, and she suddenly wished they were downstairs in the privacy of their bedroom.

  Later, Raphael’s expression seemed to say, then he swiveled around and checked the calendar on his iPad.

  Cyn propped her head on her fist and fought the urge to laugh at the sight of a 500-year-old vampire lord flipping pages on his iPad.

  “This Sunday,” he murmured, then glanced up at her. “Would you like to dress up this weekend, my Cyn?”

  “This Sunday?” she repeated, checking her own invite. “Is that—”

  But Raphael had already picked up his cell phone and hit speed dial. “Jared, we’ll be attending the Dakin event this Sunday evening. Make the appropriate arrangements, please.”

  “What about Luther Mars?” Cyn asked when he hung up. “He’s still out there somewhere. We’ve barely started the search for him, and I’m of a mind with Juro. I know you need to prove a point, to flip the finger at Klemens, but it doesn’t ne
ed to be at a crowded venue like this. It would be too easy for him to come at you.”

  Raphael tossed the phone onto his desk. “It’s actually the perfect place for me to be seen with minimal risk. A private affair, invitation only. Mars can hardly walk in and request a table. With all of the money and politicians in evidence, security will be tight, and I’ll have my own security with me, as usual. We’ll be as safe there as we would be remaining here.”

  Cyn doubted that, but Raphael seemed particularly determined on this one point. He wanted to be seen, to thumb his nose at Klemens. And he was right about one thing. Security would be tight. She just hoped it was tight enough.

  CYN CROSSED HER legs, letting the heel of her open-toed pump dangle loosely over the rail of the padded bar stool as she looked around, amazed at what the event organizers had accomplished. They’d somehow managed to get permission to erect a fully-functioning banquet tent in the middle of the polo field at Will Rogers State Park. She wondered how much of a donation that had cost.

  “Juro sends word that Raphael’s meeting is breaking up, Cyn,” Elke said from over her shoulder. “They’re on their way back now.”

  Cyn nodded and took a sip of ice water, which was all she’d permitted herself tonight. Raphael might be casual about the danger, but she wasn’t. She would have preferred that he remain inside the tent, but when the potential new Dakin board chairman had invited him to talk, he could hardly refuse. He’d taken all of his security with him, which eased her concerns somewhat, but she was ready for him to get back inside now. There were too many dark hidey holes on the hills surrounding this park.

  “How come none of these people came to my fundraiser?” her friend Lucia asked peevishly. Luci had joined Cyn at the bar only moments before, having lost her own date to his mother, who’d taken the opportunity to catch up on several weeks of unreturned phone calls.

  Cyn scanned the crowded tent idly, noting several familiar faces. “Hate to burst your pity-filled bubble, Luce, but a lot of them did. Besides—” She halted mid-sentence as Lucia’s eyes went big with alarm.

  Cyn and Elke both started to turn. “What are you—” Cyn began.

  “Sssst,” Luci hissed. “Don’t look, either one of you! Don’t even twitch, maybe she won’t . . . ooh, too late. Holly alert.”

  “Fuck me,” Cyn swore softly. “What’s she doing—”

  “Cyndi!” Her sister Holly’s voice was as welcome as nails on a blackboard. Cyn hadn’t seen Holly, who was actually her half-sister, since she’d caught her trying to steal some of Cyn’s private files to sell to the tabloids over a year ago.

  Holly stepped directly into Cyn’s line of sight, so she could no longer pretend she hadn’t heard her sister call her name.

  “Holly,” she acknowledged.

  “Cyndi, you know my fiancé don’t you? Charles Bennette the third. Chucky, honey, this is my sister Cynthia . . .” Holly paused, her face screwed up in exaggerated puzzlement. “It’s still Leighton, isn’t it, Cyndi? You’re not married yet?”

  Cyn did a mental eye roll at Holly’s oh-so-obvious dig. Like she gave a flying fuck what Holly or anyone else thought about her marital status.

  “Hey, Chuck,” Cyn said casually, mentally comparing Chucky to the Pillsbury dough boy he so obviously resembled. “Holly, you remember Lucia, and this is Elke.”

  Holly barely glanced at Elke, while Charles’s eyes widened in alarm, and he took a step back, neatly placing Holly between himself and the dangerous vampire. What a prince.

  Cyn exchanged an amused glance with Elke, then addressed her sister. “So, you two kids are getting married, huh?”

  “Chuck asked me last week,” Holly confided, then plopped her hand out to show off the ring.

  Cyn was feeling just petty enough that she made a point of using her left hand to examine Holly’s ring, which put her own elegant set of diamonds on display right next to her sister’s rather conventional engagement ring.

  “Isn’t that charming,” Cyn cooed, which everyone knew was code for “my, what a lovely little diamond.”

  Holly snatched her hand back.

  Ever the peacemaker, Lucia asked, “When’s the big day?”

  Like she cared, Cyn thought in disgust.

  “We were thinking a spring wedding, hopefully next month.”

  “Not much time to organize a wedding,” Cyn observed, suddenly interested. “Is there something I should know, Holly?” she asked with a not-so-subtle glance at her sister’s abdomen.

  Holly’s expression tightened in anger, but smoothed out quickly. Too quickly. The rapid shift put all of Cyn’s senses on alert. Either her sister was performing for Chuck—who hadn’t said a word so far—or she wanted a favor.

  “Actually, it is rather short timing, and it’s just good luck that we ran into you tonight. I was going to call you next week anyway. We were thinking how romantic it would be to get married on the beach, and since Raphael has that wonderful estate—”

  “No,” Cyn interrupted.

  Holly blinked several times. “What?”

  “I said no, Holly. There will be no wedding at Raphael’s, and no wedding at my condo, either. You’ll have to find someplace else.”

  “But this close to the date, every venue is booked.”

  “Not my problem.”

  Holly’s lips pinched tightly, causing white lines of strain to arrow unattractively from the corners of her mouth to her anger-reddened cheeks. “You always were a selfish bitch,” Holly hissed, showing her true colors. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for an invitation.”

  Cyn stared at her half-sister in amazement, but then, Holly had always lived in her own self-centered little world. The truth was they’d have had to drag Cyn kicking and screaming to that wedding.

  But all she said was, “I’ll live.”

  “Come, Charles,” Holly said huffily. “We’ve more important people to talk to.”

  “Do you think Chucky ever speaks?” Lucia asked thoughtfully, as they disappeared into the crowd.

  “That’s your sister?” Elke asked, disbelief evident in her voice.

  “Half-sister,” Cyn corrected her. “And, yeah.”

  “You don’t look anything alike.”

  “Different fathers.”

  “Huh.”

  “And, no, Luci, I think Chuck spends all of his time eating.”

  “He does look rather . . . doughy.”

  The three women burst into laughter.

  “I can’t believe she thought—” Cyn’s voice choked to a halt as a searing pain suddenly stabbed through her chest, and she doubled over in agony.

  “Cyn?” Luci said urgently, grabbing her friend.

  “Raphael,” Cyn whispered, sitting up, her gaze going unerringly in the direction of where she’d left Raphael grilling the potential new Dakin Chairman. She stood, holding on to the bar stool, fighting for balance.

  “You need to sit,” Luci said, urging her down.

  “No,” Cyn insisted, then again, “No,” more strongly this time. “Elke!” She took off running through the crowd, vaguely aware of Elke running next to her. People scrambled to get out of her way, which was made more difficult by the screams of guests who were shoving their way back into the tent, trying to escape whatever was happening outside.

  “Elke!” she called, and the vampire bodyguard was there. “I need to get to Raphael!”

  Elke took her arm and shoved people aside, ignoring the cries of protests and outrage. They finally broke free of the mob and found themselves in near total darkness, with not a soul in sight. Why did it seem so dark suddenly? Hadn’t there been lights out here before?

  Cyn closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down, letting the blood bond give her a direction. Her eyes opened, and she raced around the tent to the grassy hillside above the polo field. And there they were, Raphael’s vampire security, fangs in full view as they clustered in a tight circle around . . .

>   “Raphael!” she cried and ran up the hillside. Her spike heels dug into the soft dirt, but she refused to take the time to stop and remove them. Raphael needed her. His security parted before her as she skidded to a stop, going down onto her knees. There was blood everywhere, gleaming black in the moonlight. It soaked Raphael’s jacket and spread in a dark stain over his white shirt.

  “He’s all right,” she heard someone say, and glanced up to see Jared kneeling across from her.

  “Don’t tell me he’s all right,” she snapped. “He’s bleeding. Do you have a knife?”

  “A knife?” he repeated, puzzled. “Why would—”

  “Because he needs blood. What the hell—”

  “Lubimaya.” Raphael’s voice was quiet, but his grip on her hand was strong. His eyes opened, and she saw his power in the silver stars burning there. “I am well.”

  “You’re not well,” she said, tears filling her voice as she leaned across his body, as if to protect him from further attack. “Were you shot? I told you it wasn’t—”

  “He took a hit in the shoulder. Nine millimeter hollow-point at close range. He was going for the heart, but Raphael deflected the shot,” Jared confirmed in a businesslike tone. “Juro’s got the shooter in custody.”

  She raised her gaze to Raphael’s new lieutenant in confusion. Why wasn’t he more upset? Why were they all treating this like it was no big deal?

  “Luther Mars,” Jared clarified. “The sniper from Colorado. We caught—”

  “You knew,” she said, staring at Jared, then at the vampires all around until her gaze returned reluctantly to meet Raphael’s. “You set this whole thing up.”

  “Cyn,” he began, but she shook her head. She couldn’t deal with this. Not here, not now.

  “Never mind,” she said briskly. She would have pulled her hand away from his, but he wouldn’t let her. “Where’s the limo?” she asked Jared, swallowing the feeling of betrayal that was choking her. “And where’s Juro now?”