Bond of Blood Page 7

  "Of course, sir. The skies are your biggest vulnerability."

  Rafael grunted his agreement and clicked the intercom off, not particularly worried this close to home. Riding in an armored sedan, his strategy was that of the turtle and the fox: Unless the fox can figure out how to get the turtle out of its shell, the fox is out of luck.

  His Mercedes was almost impossible to break into—and protected its occupants with almost no loss of performance. So his enemies' tactics would be to force it to stop then somehow break into the sedan itself. After that, there'd be hand-to-hand combat involving Rafael, a vampiro mayor, and his arsenal. He almost pitied Madame Celeste's assassins.

  The road narrowed to a single lane as they climbed toward the pass. He'd have to go out again tonight to feed. No one at the ranch would be able to distract him from the red-haired scholar. He drummed his fingers, irritated at his obsession.

  "Madame Celeste has never mounted an airborne attack," Rafael objected, forcing himself to stay in a martial train of thought.

  "There's always a first time. Sir."

  Rafael chuckled at the polite reproof from a man he'd first seen in diapers. "We'll talk about it more back at the ranch. I'm sure you already have a recommendation."

  "Yes, sir."

  Rafael keyed the intercom off. Ethan and Emilio could talk high technology together for hours.

  Did Grania enjoy such mechanical marvels? Or did she pay so much attention to her patients that the surrounding world faded? Did she focus on her lovers as fiercely as her patients?

  "Excuse me, sir," Emilio's voice came clearly through the intercom, backed by rushing wind from the window he'd just cracked open. "Do you know if Johnson sold his helicopter? The old police chopper he uses for crop dusting?"

  "Not to my knowledge. In fact, he spoke of overhauling its engine." Rafael listened to the steady beat of the helicopter's blades. Definitely Johnson's toy. He frowned, considering possible explanations as the hair on his neck prickled.

  "Any idea why it's so far inside your ranch?"

  "No, not this late in the day. Might be picking up alfalfa." The road was very narrow here, squeezed between a steep hillside and a cliff dropping to the San Leandro River below.

  Emilio started to turn but before he could look out the rear window, Caleb shouted and hit the gas.

  "Ambush!"

  Then the hillside exploded into a rocky geyser as the Mercedes swerved. A boulder caught the car's rear and sent it sliding perilously close to the cliff edge. Emilio closed his window quickly and brought his rifle up to the gun port in the windshield, ready for action. Rafael snatched the two Colt .45s from the hidden locker, ready to fight if the car was forced to stop. He looked back for the chase car and found only a cloud of dust and rocks.

  Madre de Dios, let his men be safe.

  The wheels gripped the road again, sending up a plume of dust. Caleb pushed the car, sending it forward like a knight's charger hearing the sweet horn call to action. The big engine snarled as it fought for speed.

  "Incoming! Get down, sir!" Emilio yelled.

  Light and noise burst just behind them. A shockwave pummeled the heavy sedan and jolted it forward. The Mercedes reached a rock-free stretch of road and raced forward as another explosion rattled the car. Rafael sent up a quick prayer to Santiago.

  "RPG, sir, firing from the hilltop," Emilio reported. Bullets pinged against the windows. "Shit, they've got two shooters in their chopper, too."

  Don Rafael, we're starting one of our helicopters now. ETA five minutes. Jean-Marie's voice was icily calm.

  Maldito sea, no, Rafael snapped back. There's still too much light for you to be outside.

  I've been a vampiro for almost two centuries, enough to walk in twilight. You need another vampiro to fight beside you.

  Mierda. Rafael cursed but didn't argue further. If Jean-Marie was killed, he'd destroy every vampiro in New Orleans and sweep their ashes into the Mississippi.

  The Mercedes was running hard now, faster than Rafael would have thought possible on the poor road. Bullets thudded against its windows and sides. The helicopter followed directly behind them, avoiding the hillside while spitting fury from its open doors.

  "All of our men are out of the chase car and have taken cover, sir. Nobody was hurt."

  Gracias a Dios. Rafael crossed himself and tucked some extra magazines into his pockets from the locker's supplies. He'd donate a new roof to the Catholic church in thanks for his men's lives, and perhaps a new air conditioner for the Baptist church's Sunday school.

  "They're heading toward the son of a bitch with the RPG and wish us luck with the chopper," Emilio added.

  Despite their peril, Caleb whistled a slightly off-key version of "Minnie the Moocher" as he brought the Mercedes sliding around a corner. He accelerated quickly and hard as the road turned south before the final run to the pass, marked by power lines. Bullets splatted against the windows like sleet, while still more lead pinged off the Mercedes's armored flanks.

  Rafael joined in the song's nonsensical chorus. A good steed and good comrades; what knight could ask for better companions in a fight?

  Caleb swerved into the pass, setting up for the sharp turn that followed. The setting sun burst into their eyes as they passed under the power lines, which crossed the road here. Instead of squinting, Caleb hit the gas harder and the Mercedes's engine responded with a powerful roar.

  The chopper came through the pass high and turned into the sun. Suddenly another, larger chopper dived at it from the west, guns blazing. Rafael's hand tightened on his gun as he watched intently. Mierda, he hated to be an observer.

  The little one dived to escape but its blades caught a power line, snapping the metal like twigs. Sparks flew, lighting the sky like fireworks.

  The blades' remains kept beating, once, twice, but they couldn't keep the bird in the air. It hung in the sky for an endless moment. Then the nose dropped and it dived into the hill below the road. The resulting explosion was brief but intense.

  Stay here until Ethan can take over, then report to me, Jean-Marie.

  Tres bien, Don Rafael.

  Caleb didn't stop until he reached Compostela's ranch house. That was where Jean-Marie found Rafael an hour later, drinking a mint julep on the porch. Barely visible from the ranch, headlights and flashlights marked where the local sheriff and his men studied the crash, under Ethan's scrutiny.

  Rafael sprang up and hugged him, scrutinizing him for any injury. Satisfied, he clapped his hijo on the back. Jean-Marie simply grinned the entire time, clearly ecstatic at having crossed this threshold in a vampiro's life.

  "An occasion like this deserves a celebration. Champagne or mint julep, mi hijo?"

  Jean-Marie tossed his heavy Kevlar vest onto another chair. "We always celebrate fights in Texas with a mint julep. So a mint julep, s'il vous plait."

  Rafael punched him lightly in the arm and poured him one. "Report, por favor."

  They began to walk together, instinctively heading for the shooting range.

  "They were humans, not compañeros or vampiros. Probably mercenaries; certainly they had some military training."

  Rafael grunted. "Not surprising since Madame Celeste's current offering for my head is fifty million dollars."

  "And likely to go up, so you'll need to stay here at Compostela."

  "No. I will not spend my days pacing like a caged bear."

  "You cannot risk your life by going where we can't protect you," Jean-Marie retorted.

  "I will go and do what I please. If necessary, I can take more guards with me." He relented at the sight of a seething Jean-Marie, biting his tongue. "Content yourself, mi hijo. I survived today because my protection was good and will remain so. There is nothing to worry about."

  "You should be more careful," Jean-Marie insisted stubbornly.

  "I must also live my own life, not cower in fear of Madame Celeste's next attack. Remember the vampiros of Texas have fangs too. Lars is in New Orleans, with
permission to kill her given the chance."

  His eldest hijo smiled, with a flash of fangs. "I hope he succeeds soon. He has the looks to get close enough to behead her."

  "Perhaps, perhaps not. But I also told him to do everything possible to unsettle her."

  "It's past time she faced a true master of dirty tricks, someone who could shut down her nightclub and its casino. It's the source of most of her money—and her pretty boys."

  "A fair payback, indeed. I'm not sure what she'll do when she hears that this attempt failed. Will you stand watch in the comms center tonight? You'll know how to interpret any rumors coming out of New Orleans."

  "Certainement, mon père," his hijo agreed promptly. "We can dine here together first."

  "I go out to feed, no matter what happens," Rafael said briskly but softened when Jean-Marie opened his mouth to start arguing again. "Relax, Jean-Marie, the arrangements are so new that no ambusher can have anticipated them. Ethan and his men will accompany me, as well."

  Grania parked her truck close to the marina, less than two miles from the raptor center. She'd eaten barbecue and talked shop with the other vets, a very relaxed and happy gathering. She'd admired pictures of their children and said the right things, all the while wondering if Rafael Perez was married. Foolish, foolish thought. Silly of her to keep thinking about a man, just because he looked so much like someone in her dreams.

  So she'd gone back to her little house and looked at other guys at the online dating services. That was a really stupid thing to do; all of them looked totally boring, after seeing Rafael Perez. Cursing herself for a fool, she'd finally logged out and decided to go owling.

  Tonight she needed those birds' wildness, their ability to appear when and where they chose—which was always when and where they were least expected, and most likely to startle their searcher the most. They had the ability to blend into their surroundings whenever they chose, or to speak in a series of calls that sounded like voices from beyond, that could be understood if you just tried hard enough. They were the symbol of all that was truly wild and unknowable and she'd always needed them as much as she needed air to breath. Tonight she wanted to be with them, in the simplicity of their world—not the world of crowds, where Rafael Perez walked.

  The raptor center was located on the western edge of a state park, mostly oak, mesquite, and rocks crossed by a few hiking trails. On the eastern edge was a large lake, where a popular resort was very busy on this Memorial Day holiday. Santiago Trust property bordered the raptor center on the north.

  Grania parked on the boundary between the raptor center and the park. She walked into the forest slowly and quietly, taking her bearings from regular observations of the stars, as Tom had taught her. She spotted an eastern screech owl, and a barred owl, and noted them both carefully in her logbook, just to reassure herself she could still behave calmly and scientifically—no matter how jangled her nerves were.

  She followed proper owling etiquette, of course: She had full permission to owl at both the raptor center and the public park. She didn't use tapes of owl calls, since she preferred not to, whether or not it was breeding season. She was always extremely still and quiet, doing everything in slow motion—as much or more so than Tom had taught her. When she found an owl, she sank to the ground, until the owl relaxed from its elongated alarm posture into the plump relaxed posture. The eastern screech owl was so certain of its superb camouflage that it almost seemed to sneer at her puny attempts to find it. She'd rarely revisit the sites where she spotted the owls, certainly no sooner than three to four weeks, in order not to upset them. And she was definitely not going to tell anyone about them—she would not let anyone disturb these, or any other, owls for any reason whatsoever.

  She also carefully used her military prototype night-vision goggles to watch the owls from the greatest distance possible, thereby reducing their stress. Her night vision goggles and matching image intensifier were a gift from some American Special Forces troops she'd helped in Colombia. The heavy gear was a duplicate of what the troops used and far too expensive for even a wildlife researcher's dreams. They'd refused to let her give it back to them. Now she wondered if a bird would perch on one of its loops and whorls, the ultimate compliment for anyone trying to be inconspicuous in the woods.

  But even owling couldn't hold her full attention now. She still found her thoughts straying to a certain tall man who glided like a cougar.

  Eventually she found herself on the edge of a mesquite thicket, high above the lake below. The stars were bright, the air hot and humid with a lightning storm sparking the sky to the south. The mesquite's pungent scent soothed her, with its reminders of childhood trips with Tom and her college days in California.

  Grania took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting all the evening's frustrations go with it. She inhaled again, savoring the mix of familiar and unfamiliar scents. Texas air.

  She settled deeper into the thicket, intent on learning more of her new home. Yoga breathing came easily as she centered herself then let her consciousness relax and welcome the world around. The night's small animals gradually crept back as she became part of the thicket's world.

  Grania smiled at the great horned owl watching her from a branch high above. "Bienvenido, amigo," she murmured under her breath and was content.

  At least until more two-legged visitors arrived.

  Rafael cast a quick glance around and was satisfied. He'd found a good patch of grass, blessedly well free of fire ants. He swirled a blanket across the ground then kissed Brynda again, long and deep. She moaned into his mouth and arched as he squeezed her plump behind. She was a dear friend, a widow who worked for his longtime attorneys. She was also a willing lover who'd never objected to sharing her blood with him. She only balked at copulation, thanks to some odd need for professional distance between them. But her blood tasted sweet, if not fiery hot, and should soothe his frustration over that red-haired doctora.

  His tongue probed the recesses of Brynda's mouth, enticing her. She shuddered and rolled her hips against him. She gasped for breath, her blond hair tumbling over her shoulders. He kissed her cheek and slid his hand inside her waistband.

  "Damn, Don Rafael, that's it. Rub my ass! Lower, stud. Get your hand down where I can really feel it. Oh, yeah, that's it." She reached up for another kiss.

  Well, you couldn't say that Brynda didn't know exactly what she wanted. Rafael smiled to himself as he obeyed. "Dulce Brynda," he purred.

  Or that she didn't communicate those wants to her lover, even if her language usually reflected her late husband's naval career more than her staid life as a paralegal. Her shorts were too tight to provide much room for play, even if they did ride so low on her hips that his fingers easily dived between her buttocks. One finger circled her anus, as his other hand unzipped her shorts.

  She broke away from his kiss, gasping, and yanked off her shorts. "Goddamn, Don Rafael, you could make a nun leave the convent! Where the hell did you learn that move? Never mind, just do it again one more time before your hand goes where it really belongs."

  Rafael kissed her again as his hand delved lower, moving more freely now. She quivered and stretched, rubbing her breasts against his chest. He allowed himself to forget his surroundings in the mesquite thicket. Or that Ethan and two of his men were only paces away.

  No, this was the time to build his partner's passion to its peak so it would infuse her blood with the largest possible amount of emotion for him to feed on. And maybe, just maybe, he could lose himself in this moment long enough to have a climax of his own.

  Perhaps. A vampiro didn't need to have an orgasm when he drank. The bite enhanced the other's emotion, whatever that was, so his lovers always had a very strong orgasm when he fed, thanks to his insistence on sexual pleasure. But often enough, he'd simply be relaxed afterwards, similar to the comfortable pleasure brought by his own hand.

  Tonight he wanted more. He wanted the mindless release of the petit mort, the small death
that sexual rapture could bring. He needed to forget the red-haired vet and live only in the world of his vampiro's body, where he'd dwelt for seven and a half centuries.

  So he sucked Brynda's ear, matching the rhythm to his fondling of her clit. She shrieked and her language promptly descended into Anglo-Saxon. He licked her neck, easily finding her most sensitive spot, nipped it lightly and licked it again. She all but collapsed against him at that, groaning his name.

  His fingers stroked her folds, evoking a rush of cream that dampened her thong. He tugged up her short top and laved her nipples until they gleamed, tight and berry red, in the moonlight.

  She sobbed his name in response, pulling his head closer. He suckled her, scraping his teeth over the rich buds to make them as sensitive as possible. He'd enjoyed bringing Brynda to orgasm more than once from attentions only to her breasts.

  Rafael eased her down to the ground. She grunted in relief as her thong came off. "Goddamn, that feels better! That thing was getting in the way."

  He ran his hands slowly up her thighs, enjoying the slickness of her arousal. She writhed, shamelessly encouraging him. He paused, smiling as her desperation increased and his cock swelled slightly for the first time.

  She grumbled and yanked at his hands.

  Rafael chuckled and lightly bit one of her superb nipples. She screamed and arched as her first orgasm took her. Before it finished, his fingers brought her to a second climax, then a third with his mouth over hers. The fourth came from focused attention by his hand to her clit. Sweet, very sweet.

  He bit down hard on her jugular when the fifth climax swamped her. He'd enjoy a drink and hopefully forget the redhead, even if his cock hadn't hardened enough for an orgasm.

  A woman choked from somewhere close by.

  Rafael froze, vampiro senses coming to full alert.

  What the hell? Ethan cursed. Don Rafael, there's a woman in the thicket just north of you. Tall, brown hair or maybe red.

  Downwind of us, of course, so we couldn't smell her, Rafael muttered. Whoever she is, she's as stealthy as a vampiro. He withdrew his fangs from Brynda but continued to rub her clit gently. She moaned softly, easing down slightly from her sexual peak. Slight rustles marked Ethan moving into position near the other woman.