Bones arched a brow. “I intend to find out. I even had the ring made from an uncut diamond nearly five years ago, but I didn’t get a chance to give it to her back then.”

  Car brakes suddenly screeched in the driveway, so loud that Justina heard them, too. And smiled.

  “You’ll never give her that ring,” she said before screaming, “Help me! Oh, God, someone, please, help me!”

  Bones walked away. He’d expected Justina to be riled enough to call Don despite Cat’s threats if she thought that Bones was going to propose, but she’d outdone herself with this.

  Several armed, helmeted humans burst into the home, wearing tactical gear with thick, Kevlar-like collars that covered their necks. More Kevlar covered every major artery, and when every gun cocked, Bones knelt in the middle of the demolished family room and laced his fingers around the back of his head.

  “I surrender.”

  None of the automatic weapons pointed at him lowered.

  “Move and you die,” one of the helmeted men spat.

  Bones didn’t move. He also didn’t attempt to use the power in his gaze. Cat had already told him the black visors on those helmets were specially designed to block a vampire’s gaze.

  “Justina!” one of the men called out. “You okay?”

  Weeping instantly started from the hallway, followed by scraping sounds as Justina dragged herself into the room.

  “I’m alive, but I can’t walk,” she said with a moan.

  One of the guns rose a notch. “You’re dead, vampire.”

  “Yes, kill him!” Justina sobbed.

  “Before you shoot, ask yourselves why a vampire couldn’t catch a human without smashing every stick of furniture in her house first?” Bones said in a calm tone. “I suppose my fangs must be having performance issues, too, and that’s why I struck her instead of bit her, and don’t get me started on why I didn’t just mesmerize her into compliance. Really, Justina,” Bones added, “the truly smart move would have been to stab your neck with a meat prong to mimic a vampire bite, and then fake unconsciousness next to the phone you somehow heroically managed to use before you passed out.”

  “Fuck you,” Justina snapped, her weak voice now gone.

  “He has a point, amigo,” one of the helmeted men said.

  Must be Juan Rodriguez, the car thief Cat had plucked from prison three years ago after Juan successfully beat off an attack of no fewer than five inmates. Bones didn’t know how Cat had heard about that, but she’d admired Juan’s fighting skills enough to use her connections and have him join her team.

  Anger plumed off the other helmeted man. “I don’t care.”

  And this must be Tate. Considering Cat’s picture by his bed, Tate had many reasons to want Bones dead, but he was also former Special Forces. Jealousy or no, soldiers followed orders.

  “Pull that trigger only if you’re sure your boss isn’t interested in what I know about Ian,” Bones said lightly.

  “Who the fuck is Ian?” Tate snapped.

  That’s right, Tate would have only heard the name Liam Flannery-the alias Ian had been going under when Don sent Cat after him.

  Bones smiled. “Ask your boss.”

  “If he so much as twitches, you light him up,” Tate said, and then walked away a few paces.

  “What are you waiting for? Kill him!” Justina urged.

  “Cooper, get her outside,” Juan said.

  Another helmeted man went to Justina. He only helped her up with one arm, though, leaving his shooting hand free, and he never took his attention off Bones. Well-trained, indeed.

  “Yeah, it’s that vampire,” Tate muttered into a mobile on the other side of the room. “He’s surrendering, but I don’t buy it, and he said something about a vampire named Ian-”

  “What?” Don interrupted. “Bring him in. Now.”

  “But he beat on Cat’s mother,” Tate began.

  “Bring him in,” Don repeated icily.

  “Acknowledged,” Tate said after the briefest pause. Then, he hung up and shouted, “Get the capsule!”

  Outside, a flurry of sounds commenced. Bones’s lips curled. “Readying my chariot?” he asked sardonically.

  Tate’s black visor hid his smile, but Bones heard it in his voice as he said, “Oh yeah, and soon, you’re going to wish I’d killed you.”

  26

  Two hours later, Bones was convinced that Cat hadn’t designed the capsule. Something this vicious could only come from Justina.

  Silver spikes speared him through the wrists, thighs, and chest before opening in a hellish version of mini grappling hooks. If he tried to pull free, those hooks would shred him, not that he had the space to pull free. The capsule was filled with dense metal contoured around a man-sized shape, allowing only room for its occupant plus those damnable silver spikes. The jostling from the drive to the compound made it feel like acid poured from those spikes, too. He might know it was only his body’s reaction to silver, but the agony made him wonder.

  When the capsule finally opened again, nearly all his blood had drained into the metal grate at his feet. Between that and silver poisoning, he felt sick, weak, and exhausted. Only rage kept him upright when those hooks suddenly folded flat and the spikes retracted back into the wall, releasing him.

  Bones looked around. He was in a small room that resembled an airplane hangar, except he was underground. The lack of sound above him told him that.

  “Step forward,” an unfamiliar voice said from an unseen speaker. Then, a door slid open ahead.

  Bones gathered his strength and went through the door. It opened into another small room with beige walls on all sides except one, where a dark screen covered glass thick enough to belong on a pressurized substation at the bottom of an ocean.

  As soon as Bones was inside, the door closed behind him. Once it did, the screen slid up, revealing Tate Bradley. He’d taken off his helmet, showing brown hair cut military short, lightly tanned white skin, navy blue eyes, and a look of scorn on his handsome features.

  “Welcome to your new home, vampire.”

  Bones smiled. “For now.”

  Tate raked him with another glance, and then shook his head. “What the fuck did Cat see in you?”

  Silver took longer to heal than any other wound. That’s why it took Bones a few moments to notice the slight dilation in Tate’s eyes, how tight his shoulders were, or the way his fingers twitched as if Tate were fighting not to curl them into fists. Tate wasn’t suffering from simple jealousy. Oh, no. This was something else.

  Bones’s chuckle was a dry rasp. “How long have you been in love with Cat? Is it a recent thing, or this whole time? Ah, this whole time,” he clarified when Tate suddenly stiffened like he’d been electrocuted. “A hundred pounds says she had no idea. She’s perceptive about many things, but love isn’t one of them.”

  “Fuck you, tomb trash,” Tate gritted out.

  Devolving into insults-no faster way to admit that you’ve lost an argument. Bones stared at Tate, weighing this new information. On one hand, his emotions screamed “kill!” with all their usual vampire territorialism. On the other, this meant that Tate would die to protect Cat. That made the annoying bugger useful. For now.

  Bones held Tate’s gaze, and then shrugged. “I don’t try to make Cat ashamed of who and what she is, for starters. For the rest of what she sees in me, you’ll have to ask her.”

  Tate opened his mouth, but then shut it when a tall, muscular man with collar-length black hair, almond-colored skin, and eyes as dark as Bones’s appeared next to him.

  “Don wants to see you, amigo.”

  Bones recognized Juan’s voice and waved at him while Tate left after another disgusted shake of his head.

  “Hallo again,” Bones said to Juan.

  From the faint lines around Juan’s mouth, he smiled often, but nothing except a hard slit showed as he glanced at Bones.

  “Don’t bother. Nothing you say matters. I’ve heard every plea and threat possible from vamps in your position.”

  “I expect you have,” Bones said with a concurring nod.

  Juan said nothing. Neither did Bones. After several minutes, Bones sat down as if too exhausted to stand, which would be true if he were anything other than a Master. But, with the silver finally out of him, his strength was returning.

  “Cat has saved my life nineteen times,” Juan abruptly stated. “I still remember number four like it was yesterday. We were clearing a nest in an abandoned building, and I heard someone calling for help. So, like the dumb pendejo I was, I broke formation and ran into the room…and fell through the floor. The vamps had covered a big hole with a tarp, and I dropped three stories. Broke both my legs and lost my gun in the fall, too. So, I could only crawl away from the six vampires surrounding me. I knew I was dead, but then, I heard Cat cursing me and saw her swan-dive after me. She took out two of the vampires with that incredible dive. How it didn’t kill her, I still don’t know, but then, she ripped through the other four, yanked my ass up, and carried me out of there.”

  Bones closed his eyes, torn between pride and barely controlled panic. “Of course she did. Her own safety means nothing to her if there’s someone else in danger.”

  That’s why he’d let himself get captured and brought here. Someone needed to look out for her for a change.

  When he opened his eyes, Juan was still staring at him. “Cat cares for you. Because of that, I will give you the benefit of the doubt that she asked me to. But if that chupacabra didn’t lie about you attacking her, and if you’re involved in the attempt on her life, I’ll carve your fucking heart out.”

  A self-deprecating truth followed by a fair warning. Juan was an honorable man. His file hadn’t indicated that. Oh, it had given Bones many facts, such as the little-known one where Juan spoke perfect English despite his exaggerated Spanish accent, but it hadn’t told Bones that. Sometimes, facts weren’t the only measure of a person’s character.

  “I would never hurt Cat,” Bones said, holding Juan’s piercing stare. “And, though you’re right about her mum being a chupacabra, I also wouldn’t hurt Justina.”

  Juan grunted. “We’ll see.”

  Half an hour slid by in fairly companionable silence, until Tate appeared again. His face was flushed with anger or frustration or both, and he was so agitated that his skin seemed too tight to contain the energy roiling beneath it.

  “I don’t fucking believe I’m actually going to do this,” Tate spat. “I must be out of my mind.”

  “Que?” Juan said warily.

  Tate ignored that to shoot a glare at Bones. “If she’s wrong about you, if you’re playing her, you’re fucking dead.”

  Evidently, Bones was the belle of the murder ball. But from Tate’s words, Cat must have told him what was really happening. Bones wouldn’t have trusted him with that, but Cat must see something more in Tate than the surly, scorned suitor Bones saw.

  “We’re letting him out,” Tate said, confirming that. A second later, all the lights went out. “Or, Cat’s letting him out, and we’re not supposed to murder him because she swears he’s here to find out who tried to kill her,” Tate muttered.

  “I am,” Bones said, vaulting up when a side panel in his cell slid open. He was through it before Juan had time to gasp, and then Bones clapped the stunned man on the back.

  “Now, if you’d direct me to the elevator?”

  Tate backed up and his heartbeat spiked, but he didn’t run. Instead, he said, “We’re going with you.”

  Very well. A brave, surly scorned suitor, Bones conceded. Then he smiled, letting Tate see a hint of fang in his teeth.

  “After you.”

  Tate and Juan backed into either corner of the elevator. Bones pretended not to notice how they palmed their guns as he pressed the button for sub level one. He could smell silver knives on them, too, and then their popping sweat glands as the elevator doors closed, sealing them all inside the small space.

  “Cat killed the electricity and opened his cell?” Juan whispered.

  “Yep,” Tate said sourly. “Apparently, she planted a virus that overrode the compound’s entire security system. Now, the only things that work are the ones she wants to work.”

  “Dios,” Juan muttered.

  Moments later, the elevator stopped at sublevel 1. Before the doors could fully open, Cat flung herself into Bones’s arms.

  “Guard this door,” she barked to Tate and Juan, who seemed eager to leave the confined space. “No one gets close.”

  “Why?” Tate asked. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving him blood,” Cat replied while hitting the “close” button on the elevator. “That box drained him.”

  “Jesus, Cat-”

  The closing doors cut off whatever Tate had been about to say, not that Bones cared. He was too busy inhaling Cat’s scent and sinking his hands into her hair.

  “I’ve been worried sick,” she said as she touched each bloody tear that the capsule’s spikes had made in his clothes.

  “You shouldn’t have been,” Bones murmured. “I wasn’t. I knew you’d come through, luv.”

  Then, he kissed her until a richer scent replaced the fear saturating her, stopping only when she pushed him back.

  “No need for foreplay. Just bite me already.”

  A laugh rumbled out of him as his mouth slid to her neck. “You are ever impatient.”

  She was also right. Blood would chase away the last of the silver-induced lethargy clinging to him, and he needed to be sharp. Somewhere inside this underground box, a traitor awaited.

  She shivered as her skin split beneath his fangs. Then, a shudder swept through her as his venom shot into her bloodstream. He held her tighter as he swallowed, wishing he had time to savor each mouthful, but circumstances denied him that. All too soon, the elevator doors opened, revealing Tate and Juan. When Tate saw Bones’s fangs in Cat’s neck, he aimed his gun at Bones.

  Cat drew hers, too, cocking it with one hand. “Back off, Tate! You shoot, and I fire back.”

  Bones gave her neck a last lick before saying, “Don’t fret over her safety, mate. I’d never hurt her, but with how you keep looking at her, you don’t get that same promise.”

  Tate couldn’t stop staring at the seeping holes in Cat’s neck. “I hope you know what you’re goddamn doing, Cat.”

  “I do,” she said. “Now, drop it.”

  Tate lowered his gun. Blood loss, stress crash, or both made Cat suddenly sway on her feet. Bones supported her with one arm while taking away her gun with a muttered, “Give me that, Kitten.” Holding a loaded weapon while battling unconsciousness was hardly safe.

  “Here,” Bones said, handing the gun to Juan, who stared at Bones with openmouthed shock.

  “You called her Kitten? And she let you? She put me in a coma for three days the one time I called her that! My balls never recovered from her smashing them into my spine.”

  From Cat’s guilty expression, every word was true.

  Bones stifled a laugh. “And well she should have,” he said as if that were a perfectly normal response. “She’s my Kitten, and no one else’s,” he added with a pointed look at Tate.

  Tate scowled. Oh, yes, he was going to be trouble.

  “Do you mind?” Cat said, poking Bones. “I’m woozy here.”

  “Apologies, luv,” he said, slicing his tongue with a fang. Then, he kissed her. Yes, he could have cut his palm instead, but he much preferred giving her blood this way.

  “What the hell is going on?” a male voice snapped.

  Bones broke the kiss. He knew that voice, had fantasized about hearing it raised in screams of pain, and now, Don Williams was finally within killing range.

  Bones released Cat and streaked over to him.

  27

  Fear and sweat exploded from Don’s pores as Bones stopped mere inches from him. Bones savored those scents as he stared at the man who’d nearly gotten Cat killed more times than he allowed himself to imagine.

  Don looked older than his fifty-nine years, but his iron-colored hair was impeccably combed, and he held himself with a straight-spine, military bearing even though Don had never served. He was average height, neither fit nor rotund, and he had pleasant features with deep lines around his mouth reminiscent of a long-term smoker. If Bones had seen Don in a crowd, he wouldn’t think much of him unless he looked into his eyes. Those dark gray depths nearly crackled with intelligence, so much that not even the fear in them could dim it.

  “You must be very determined to kill me to go to such lengths, vampire.”

  Bones didn’t want to admire anything about Don, but the sod had a Master vampire glaring at him while blood literally dripped from his fangs, and he didn’t run, beg, weep, or attempt to bargain for his life. He didn’t even sound afraid despite his other senses giving that away. Instead, Don’s voice was crisp and contemptuous.

  “I’m not here for you, old chap.” Or you’d already be dead. “I’m here to find the snake in your garden, though first, the three of us are going to have a chat. You’ve kept Cat in the dark long enough.”

  Cat gave Bones a confused look. Don didn’t. He was now more ashen than he had been when he thought he was about to die.

  “Tate, Juan, make sure no one comes through that door or gets frisky,” Cat said, shelving her confusion. “The place is locked down, but someone could pull a weapon, so keep sharp.”

  Both men moved with a quickness that spoke of years of following her commands.

  “Okay, boss,” Cat said. “After you.”

  Don’s office was lit by battery-backup emergency lights, and its interior reminded Bones of the man’s hair: impeccable and colored entirely in dark and light shades of gray. Steel chairs were on either side of a charcoal-colored desk while smoky pale walls ensconced the room. No family pictures adorned the desk or shelves, either, which made Bones’s lip curl as he took a seat in one of the chairs. Of course Don didn’t need those. He stared at family nearly every day.

  “Don, I’d like to introduce you to Bones,” Cat said without preamble. “The real Bones, not the imposter on ice in the fridge. You’ll remember him from Ohio, where he gave the highway a whole new look after swiping me from your convoy years ago.”