Shifting Dreams (40 page)

“Alex!” His foreman, Marcus Quinn, called him over.
 

“Be right there.” He opened his car and pulled a bottle of water from the small ice chest, quickly draining it before he pulled out another.

Marcus was a good guy, one of the few members of the Quinn family who had pulled themselves up and made a real go of it in the outside world. He had a surveying company out of Barstow that did work all over the desert, and Alex was determined to employ as many people from the Springs as possible.

The town was a dying relic that needed fresh air. It wasn’t going to get it without help. If he had to pull it into the modern world by determination alone, he would do it. Because the Springs was his home. No matter where he went in the world, this was the only home that mattered.

That determination had driven him for over ten years. He’d sacrificed money, opportunity, friendships—and more—in order to secure the only safe place in the world for his family and his clan. It was his responsibility, and he did it without thought.

But there had been sacrifices, some more painful than others.

From the corner of his eye, he caught the dark green gleam of her Jeep as it turned the corner from Main Street to Spring, heading to the small clinic where she worked. The window was down and she caught him watching her. From across the field, she focused her cat eyes on him.

Teodora Vasquez.

His blood hummed, and he felt every hair on his body rise in awareness. Unconsciously, he lifted his nose to try to catch her scent. She had her sunglasses on and her mouth was pursed in a disapproving pout. He’d bitten those lips, kissed them with fierce abandon, felt soft flesh turn hard when she kissed him back. That morning, she sneered a little and dangled her fingers toward him in a saucy wave.

They’d gone back and forth for years. Friends. Then lovers. Enemies. Lovers again. She was the dominating female presence in his life. The one woman that all others were compared to. He and Ted were currently trying to be friends again, according to her.

But some sacrifices had been harder than others, and Alex McCann wasn’t leaving again.

Friends
.

He gave her retreating vehicle a predatory smile.

 
Right.

A first look at the next book in the Elemental World series

BLOOD AND SAND

Summer 2013

San Diego, 2013

The lights of the club pulsed red and gold as he swirled the ice in the glass in front of him. The frozen water turned and twisted, spinning his glass into a small whirlpool that splashed over the edge of the cut crystal glass. His amnis caught the drops that fell to the table and quickly slid them back in the glass, leaving the polished wood unmarked. The music, the abysmally loud techno and pop that the patrons preferred, flowed around him as he sat in the black leather booth, watching.

Baojia was always watching.

Humans danced in a mass like one pulsing organism. Skin. Heat. Sweat. The mingled scents of blood and alcohol filled his nose, but he had already fed that night, a pretty young co-ed who would have no memory of his teeth in her neck. He would have indulged in more, but the girl had too much alcohol in her blood so he pushed her back toward her friends, who only giggled and winked at him.

Idiotic humans. Baojia was painfully bored.

The club in San Diego,
Boca
, was his sire’s pride and joy. It had been recently remodeled, thanks to Baojia’s presence. He had nothing better to do, after all. He was stuck in San Diego, having a time out like a rebellious toddler. The first year had been deserved; he had taken his exile with stoic grace. After all, it had been his failure that had led to the death of Ernesto’s kinsman and his negligence caused Ernesto’s favorite granddaughter grave injury. Beatrice De Novo had been under his protection, and he had failed in his mission.

No, the first year had been well deserved.

The second year as well. Perhaps.

Baojia had been in San Diego for three years. Beatrice De Novo had recovered—rather admirably—and had settled with her mate in Los Angeles. She had probably forgotten about him. Forgotten the years he had watched over her while the damnable Italian had been jaunting around the world. It wasn’t Giovanni Vecchio who had protected the young human, it was Baojia. For four years, she had been his assignment. Her safety hadn’t been his only job, but it had been a priority. It still stung that she had no idea the lengths to which he had gone.

History. He took another sip of water. It was history. He had more important things to worry about. Like how to relieve this excruciating boredom and convince his sire to release him from the hell on earth of college children who thought they ruled the world.

“Boss?”
 

He turned at the sound of his assistant’s voice. “What is it, Luis?”

“Do you know a woman named Natalie Ellis?”

He frowned. “Human?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Okay, I figured.” Luis patted the back of the booth in the VIP area of the club, which took up the balcony. “I’ll tell her to take off.”

He shrugged. “Let her stay and keep drinking as long as she’s not causing a scene.”

“Okay. She’s at the bar if you want to look. Redhead in a black dress. Cute, if you like freckles.”

His mouth turned up at the corner. “How sweet.”

“Yeah…” Luis chuckled. “Something tells me… not. Oh, and here’s the report from the casino. Jared dropped it off earlier. You still meeting with Rory at two?”

He nodded. “Make sure my office is clear and show him in as soon as he arrives. What time is it?”

“Eleven.”

He stretched his neck to the side in a completely habitual gesture. He didn’t need to stretch anymore than he needed to drink the water in front of him. Still, those little signals all put the humans around him at ease. “Wonderful. It’s busy tonight.”

“Back to school, Boss.” Luis grinned. “A fresh new crop of newly legal eye candy.”

He often forgot how young Luis was. The human was only twenty-five, the son of one of Ernesto’s long-time human employees. The don of Los Angeles was nothing if not loyal. He kept the fealty of his human servants for generations, which had served him well in the rapidly changing atmosphere of Southern California.

“Get back to work being charming, Luis. And keep on eye on the new bartender. I think he’s pouring a little heavy for the more attractive female patrons.”

Like the redhead in the black dress who was definitely not a co-ed.

As soon as Luis had mentioned red hair, his eyes had searched for her. From his perch in the corner, Baojia could observe three of the four doors in the club. A monitor in the corner watched the other. He could see the bar, and the mirror behind it let him see each and every movement of the humans tending it. The DJ’s booth was elevated and also monitored by a camera that fed into the small screen he could see from his seat.
 

The dance floor took up most of the main level, lined by booths that were reservation only. The VIP area in the balcony was even more exclusive.
Boca
had become the premiere nightclub in downtown San Diego, and Baojia had remodeled it with security in mind. If he had to be stuck in a tiny corner of his sire’s kingdom, that corner would be the most secure in Ernesto’s territories.
 

Baojia stood at the balcony and watched the redhead, who was sipping a clear cocktail with two limes. Her hair was a tumble of red waves; very attractive, he had to admit. Her pale shoulders were bare, but the rest of her dress hugged her curves. She was of medium height and had an athletic build. Not slight and girlish like the children on the dance floor. She was around thirty in human years, if he had to guess. She stood out for that alone. Her dress and make-up fit the club, the intelligent eyes that scanned the room and ignored the males surrounding her did not.

Natalie Ellis.

He didn’t know her, but she was intriguing. She asked for him, specifically? He’d have to ask Luis. Very few humans knew his name.

Who are you, Natalie Ellis?
He narrowed his gaze as she checked her mobile phone, punching something in, then slipped it back in her purse. It was a large purse, the kind a professional woman carried, not a girl out clubbing. Right dress. Right jewelry and make-up. Wrong purse.

“You’re a pretty liar, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hands hanging in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black suit. Baojia abhorred ill-fitting clothes.
 

He saw Luis approach and touch the woman’s shoulder. She turned, her polite smile slowly turning down. She was annoyed. Her eyes flicked up to the balcony and met his. He cocked his head as they held. Curious. Most humans wouldn’t hold his gaze for long; some instinct always told them to look away from the predator. Not hers. They kept right on his. Challenging. Tempting.

Very curious.

She kept watching him as she reached back and grabbed her cocktail. She tilted the glass up, and her throat undulated as she swallowed, the pale skin glowing in the red lights of the club. Never taking her eyes off him, she finished her drink and set the glass down, then finally turned back to Luis. She reached in her too-large purse, handed Luis a card, then stood. Baojia watched her until she left out the crowded front doors. Then he turned and sat down again, pulling out the report about the casino in the desert near El Centro.

Baojia stifled the groan when he opened the file and saw the first column of numbers that filled it.

He had get back to LA.

Rory McNair was already sitting in a chair and drinking a glass of blood in his office when Baojia escaped the still-lively club at two. His sister Paula’s husband was a casual man. He and Baojia had been turned within twenty years of each other and always had a good relationship, though Rory’s allegiance was to Paula first. The two had been mated for over one hundred years. Of all Ernesto’s children, it was Paula, Rory, and Baojia whom he trusted most. Well, until the Chinese disaster, as Rory referred to it.

“How you doing, brother?”

Baojia shrugged. “I’m bored watching college kids and redecorating night clubs. How are you?”

“Overworked and living with an annoyed wife.” Rory’s grey mustache twitched. “How did you manage all this shit and still have a life?”

Since Baojia had been exiled, the majority of the security for Ernesto’s large territory had fallen to Rory’s hands. Paula was the businesswoman. Baojia had been the security. Rory was mostly a man of leisure, so the sudden weight of responsibility for a region stretching from Northern Mexico to Central California was not a welcome addition to his life.

“I
didn’t
have a life, remember?” He smiled. “I suppose I should be grateful for the vacation, but I just find myself obsessing over all the problems that could be cropping up in my absence.” He raised a quick hand. “Not that I don’t trust you. I just know that it’s a lot. Have there been any more problems in the mountains?”

“Not much.” Rory twisted the tip of his mustache and leaned back in his chair, blood forgotten. “They’re still growin’ up there, but the gang activity has been contained.” Marijuana production in the Southern California mountains was hardly something that Ernesto usually worried about, but the infiltration of gangs from Northern Mexico was. It was not uncommon for other vampire leaders to send in criminal gangs they controlled to test the resolve of their neighbors. Problems out of the ordinary had to be dealt with swiftly and decisively in order to maintain a leader’s position and authority. Baojia worried that Rory was not taking it seriously enough.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Rory snorted. “From San Diego?”

Baojia ignored the sting. It wasn’t intentional and it was hardly something that Rory could help. Until Ernesto decided to let him out of his virtual prison, he was stuck.

“Sorry.” His brother looked contrite. “You got the casino numbers?”

“Yes.” He pulled out the file. “I’m warning you, everything appears to be in order.”

Rory’s eyes twinkled. “Not a single head we can crack for missing money or booze?”

“Sadly not,” he said with a smile. “But the employee pension fund needs a new manager.”

“Embezzlement?”

“Retirement.”

“Damn.”

By three in the morning, Rory was gone and Baojia was leaving the club. Luis would take care of the few after-hours patrons they entertained, so Baojia could return to the home he had secured on Coronado Island, a few steps from the beach. It was a modern house with exactly the right number of windows and a very secure location. His driver dropped him off before dawn and returned at nightfall. Was it his comfortable warehouse in downtown LA? No, but it was modern and had a good area to train, so he was as content as he could be. He was just about to step into his car when he heard the voice.

“Are you Baojia?”

He smiled, somehow knowing it was Natalie Ellis before he turned. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Took me a while to figure it out once I saw it written,” she mused, stepping closer. “
Bow
—like the bow of a ship,
jeeah
. It’s cool. Chinese?”

“Perhaps.” Baojia spun around and regarded her. “Where did you hear it?”

“Does it matter?”

“Very much so.” She had taken off the heels she’d been wearing and put on a pair of thin, black shoes, but her dress and makeup were the same. “You brought the wrong purse, Ms. Ellis.”

“How—” She nodded, raising the very practical black handbag. “I guess you see a lot of college kids, huh? Not the usual?”

“You stood out. That’s not a bad thing. Where did you hear that name?”

She stepped closer. “Did your errand boy give you my card?”

“No. And I wouldn’t let him hear you call him an errand boy.”

Her lips wore a slight smile. “But he is.”

Baojia stepped closer. “We like to allow children their illusions, don’t we?”