The Immortal, Volume 2

Chapter 45  

As much as I hated leaving Mandy, another team had called, desperate for additional training. Not that she’d been far from my thoughts. As we’d clambered through the sweltering heat of the Arizona mountains—Summer had not relinquished its grip down there—her words had tumbled through my skull. Plus, the way she’d described her feelings. For her husband, although that mystery remained to be unveiled. And for me.

We were master and slut. Also, lovers. And friends.

“How’d that happen?” I murmured as the flight home began its final descent.

But then, my mind wandered to the night before. Halfway between the interstate and Fort Huachuca, we’d been celebrating the completion of their final exercise. Which had turned out to be more realistic than anyone had imagined.

Another nonassociated bloodsucker had been infiltrating north among human migrants. But it was greedy, and a sharp-eyed border agent had noticed her eclectic collection of thralls. So, we’d gotten in a little live-fire training as well. Which meant everyone needed to blow off some steam.

Just off a winding two-lane road that meandered over low hills, an old bar clung to a patch of gravel-strewn asphalt. Wind-blown, gray planks rattled on the outside in the deep shade of gnarled trees. Nor was it much brighter on the inside. Reeking of decades of beer and cigarettes, the dingy, wood-paneled place possessed a certain charm. A cross between a rough country honky-tonk and a biker joint, the bar catered to all types. It had fast become our favorite haunt.

After an evening of swapping lies and drinking, I left the men’s room to find most of the team had moved to the pool tables in the rear. From the rising voices and laughter, the usual flurry of shit-talking and raucous financial redistribution was about to begin.

A grin on my face, I was about to return to my barstool. Wouldn’t be fair to play with them. Far too many billiard games in my past. But just as I turned for the glass-backed bar, a motion caught my eye.

It came from one of a row of small, gloomy booths along the near wall. At first, I shook my head. But then the fingers of a slight, grizzled man in worn leathers shifted again. After finding a narrowed face and dark, beady eyes, my pulse slowed. Time also slowed as my gaze swept the room. But he was alone. One man. One beer. In one booth.

The digits moved once more. Clan sign. Anonymous. But he wanted to talk. With a sigh, I veered towards the shadowed figure. While lifting a glass, he watched me with narrowed eyes as I slid onto the cracked leather bench across from him.

“Do I know you?” I asked.

“No.” He inhaled and glanced around before coughing to clear his throat. It was a frothy sound. “I have a message.”

As he spoke, I inspected him. Not pallid. If anything, he was swarthy, exuding a rugged health. So, not one of them. Only a thrall. When the glass thumped back onto the table, he sighed.

“They said you’d be tall.” His voice was gravelly and low. “And that, um, I’d recognize you.”

“They did, huh?” I sniffed. “Who you work for?”

Rather than answer, he looked down and played with his drink. When he returned to me, he wore a taut grin.

“Not important. They said you should know….” Again, a phlegmy cough left him, sending a shiny bubble of spit to drip from his lower lip. He swiped at it with a sleeve. “Um, The Baron. He boxed her. Kali. That you’d know who I’m talking about.”

Although my heart tumbled, I kept my face set. Of course, we’d both understood that could happen. The gorgeous blonde had been sent as bait. We’d spent the night together in Vegas playing our roles. But then came my meeting with the werewolf Luka. Well, his wife, Lisandra. Word would travel. If I was dealing with The Dusk Pride, I wasn’t in the pockets of the clans. Not to mention my not asking for Kali’s return.

All of which meant, as I’d warned her, The Baron knew she’d failed. The last in a long line of enticing lures he’d sent my way over the centuries. Although I couldn’t read his mind per se, I doubted he’d been surprised. Bless her undead heart, she’d provided some information to me, but it was a shame. Unfair, even to one of their kind.

“Boxed?” I murmured.

“Yeah. They say she’ll be… Well, you know how they are.” With the grin gone, he sighed. “Worse among themselves. Sometimes.”

“Um-hmm,” is all I managed, while nodding.

Boxed meant she was back in a casket. Or similar enclosure. They’d keep her viable, but just barely. I shouldn’t have felt anything. She was a monster, after all. But then again, weren’t we all? The games I’d played with her master. Endless through the centuries.

“Tell your master”—at a loud cheer I glanced towards the crowded pool tables. When I returned to the man, he was inspecting me—“thanks for the info. But what does he want?”

“Mistress. And nothing, Iakovos. She has what she desires.”

“Oh, really? And what might that be?”

“Your curiosity.”

At that, I fell silent. The thrall wasn’t wrong. A mysterious informant in the clans was curious. When a bitter laugh escaped me, his head tilted, but I kept silent. She’d want something more. That much was inevitable.

“Anything else?” I grumbled.

“No.” He lifted the glass.

After giving him a slow nod, I rose from the booth. With a stretch that had the cords across my back creaking, I let the air hiss from my lungs.

“Well, tell your mistress from me”—I flashed him a taut grin and furrowed my brow—“she may not want my curiosity.”

Before he could reply, I turned and headed to my barstool. After settling onto it, I watched in the mirror behind rows of booze bottles. With a hooded expression, the thrall stood. And, message delivered, it wandered towards the exit.

Just as I was nursing a fresh whiskey, a shadow appeared beside me. Perfume, similar to Mandy’s, plus a more subdued shampoo and soap, all swirled into my nostrils. At the athletic, though buxom figure sliding onto the stool beside me, I sighed. Without looking, I knew who it was.

Miranda Caine. Late-30s, tactical communicator extraordinaire and a tech genius. Also, a stunning brunette with the toned body of an exotic dancer. Which she was displaying in a tiny black skirt and a sleeveless sheer ivory top that offered a wonderful side-boob view of a remarkable, gravity-defying chest. Also, uninhibited didn’t begin to capture her personality. When I glanced over, she was smiling.

Of course she was. While swallowing a chuckle, I dropped my gaze. Since we’d arrived, a further two of the blouse’s buttons were open, and her bra had disappeared.

“What’s up, High Beams?” I said, releasing the laugh.

“Well, at least you noticed, Jim.” She laughed and reached for my tumbler. “For once.”

Miranda was also the team slut. By all accounts, both unashamed and talented. Although her husband hadn’t a clue who she worked for, thinking she was in the FBI, he was aware of her carnal adventures. Again, by all accounts.

While with Debbie and after her death, I’d not been interested in anyone else. So, I’d never partaken of her alleged skills. Besides, since my last encounter with this team, Mandy had pranced her sexy way into my life. Despite her declaration that she wouldn’t mind me being with other women, in Miranda’s case, there was more to be wary about.

“Shouldn’t you be over there?” I nodded towards the pool tables.

“No.” She smacked fresh red lipstick and shook her head. Long dark brown tresses swept a shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts.”

“That you should be over there.” I chuckled.

“Hard case, huh?” she said, while easing a hand onto my thigh.

When I didn’t remove it like I’d done so many times before, her eyebrows arched. Right then, I should’ve peeled it away. But Kali was boxed. They’d fucking boxed the poor girl, undead or not. A wave of—something—blasted through me. After tugging my drink free of her fingers, I drained most of it in one gulp.

“Jesus, Jim.” Her pale green eyes tightened. “What’s eating you?”

And just then, the rebound wave slashed through me. With my pulse rising, I was in no mood for games.

“Miri.” I sighed. “We both know what’ll happen if we hook-up, right?”

“We’d fuck.” She giggled. “An awful lot.”

But the giggle died when I leaned close to plumb those twinkling green pools. As crimson flooded her cheeks, her lower lip trembled.

“Y-You’re different, Jim,” she said in a shaky whisper.

No, she wasn’t witting of my true status. Or my age. Or the source of all the other scars. The ones nobody could see, but I damned sure felt. Especially as I scanned her face. There was the expected lust, but also concern. Which, I’m sure, mirrored my own. The fear, not the lust. In my case, the latter was focused on Mandy.

“Yeah, I am.” I nodded. “So, no, Miri, we wouldn’t just fuck, right?”

Rather than respond, she gulped and turned her head to gaze towards the rest of her team. They were cheering; one of them had sunk the eight ball. A small victory. A bright light amid the sudden dimness that swallowed my world.

“Go on. Find yourself somebody simpler.” I gestured with the tumbler while forcing a chuckle. Why forced? Because she’d be an amazing fuck. If Mandy wasn’t in my life, I’d chance everything, including ruining her marriage, to have her as my own. “Who’d you give your bra to?”

“Casey,” she murmured while shifting to look at my reflection in the shiny barback mirror.

“There ya go.” I glanced at a tall, young guy amid his laughing teammates. Single and good-looking. Not the brightest, but fit enough to keep up with her near-legendary needs. “You like him. One of your regulars, no?”

“Yeah. He’s nice.” She sighed while twirling a strand of hair. “But, um….”

At the sudden press of her fingers on my thigh, air hissed from my gritted teeth. When she spun to stare at me, my pulse staggered. At first, I thought she’d surge for a kiss, but her shoulders fell. And the hand slipped from me.

“Okay,” she mumbled.

“Good night, Miri.” With a slow nod, I drained the last of the whiskey and slid backwards off the barstool.

Once I’d stepped from the bar into the chilly desert night, I let out a heavy breath. Then another one while glancing back at the rowdy joint. Dodged a bullet. Pure and simple, Miri craved sex, not complications. But that wasn’t me. Not by a long shot. I was so far beyond complicated.

With a grin, I scanned the cloudless sky. A vivid spray of twinkling lights from horizon to horizon, the stars were bright. Was Mandy looking up at them as well? No binoculars, though. They were at my place, awaiting her next visit.

“Gods above, I miss her,” I mumbled while heading for my vehicle.

The next day, my flight home was endless. Not that the jet was delayed, but my mind kept whirling. There’d been a knock on my hotel room door in the middle of the night. A glance through the peephole had me sighing. It was Miri.

And for a brief second, my hand had tightened on the handle. One twist and she’d be in my arms. Then in my bed. Or bent over the couch. Either way, more complexities would inundate both our lives.

At that point, Charles may or may not have known about Mandy and me. But there was no question Roger, Miri’s husband, understood she slept around. While maybe she’d share all the details if we’d fucked, somehow, I doubted it. Because deep down, she’d realized what really might be at stake, but still wanted to take the risk. Yeah, like I said, it would’ve been complicated.

Which is why, with a slow exhale, I had eased my fingers from the hotel room door and stepped away. Although her fist rapped again, then once more, by the time I’d tumbled back into bed, silence had returned. A much louder sigh had escaped me as I crushed a pillow against my chest and curled tight, missing my Mandy.