A Bite to Remember (17 page)

“Accounting should have a copy,” Lily blurted suddenly, the production assistant’s mind obviously having run along the same lines as Jackie’s. She moved forward now, saying, “I’ll go ask Phillip if he’ll—”

“Phillip is on vacation,” Sharon pointed out.

“Oh,” Lily paused and hesitated, then said, “Well, his secretary, Meredith, should be able to pull it up for us.”

“You’re right, Lily,” Vincent smiled at the production assistant.

“Shall I go ask her if she would—?”

“No, no.” Vincent patted her shoulder. “I wanted to introduce Jackie around anyway. We’ll stop in there first and ask Meredith to pull it up. Good thinking though. Thank you.”

When Jackie added her smile of approval to Vincent’s and the girl smiled shyly back, she found herself shaking her head as she turned to lead the way out of the office. Honestly, the girl didn’t look more than twelve or fourteen when she smiled like that. Jackie almost expected to see braces sparkling out at her. However, the girl was smart and at least trying to be helpful, unlike Sharon.

“Do you want to head right to accounting, or meet people along the way?” Vincent asked as he led her along the hall.

“Either way,” she answered. “It doesn’t really matter.”

Vincent turned a questioning gaze to Marguerite then, but she just shook her head. “I’m just here to tag along. However you like it, Vincent.”

Nodding, he paused at the first door they came to and ushered them inside.

“Mr. Argeneau.” The blonde behind the desk hid her surprise behind a smile of welcome as she stood up. “Mr. Notte didn’t warn me that you’d be coming in today.”

“Stephano didn’t know, Amelia,” Vincent assured her as he ushered Jackie and Marguerite across the office. “Is he in? I want to introduce him to my aunt and Jackie.”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

Vincent paused halfway to the inner door and turned to her with obvious surprise. “He isn’t? But he’s always in here late. He stays to brief Neil when he comes in.”

“Well, he is here somewhere, but he stepped out for a minute,” the woman explained, then frowned as she added, “He should be back soon. In fact, I was just wondering what was holding him up when you came in. He has tickets to a show tonight and planned to leave early.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’ll return shortly, then,” he said and added, “We’ll keep an eye out for him on our tour, but if he should stop back here without meeting us, tell him not to worry about it. We can catch him another time, there’s no need to delay leaving.”

Amelia nodded, looking relieved that he wasn’t upset. “If he returns, I’ll tell him you were here.”

“Thank you,” Vincent said as he led them out.

They didn’t go far, just to the next door up the hall.

“This is Phillip’s office,” he explained as he led the way inside.

“The accountant who’s on vacation,” Jackie murmured as they paused in front of the empty desk in the outer office. “Is his secretary off while he’s away?”

“I don’t think so. Sharon would have mentioned if Meredith were away too,” Vincent said, then glanced toward the door to the inner office.

Following his gaze, Jackie spotted the cracked open door and raised her eyebrows. “Perhaps she’s in there.”

Vincent moved to the door and pushed it open. He glanced inside, then went terribly stiff. It was as if someone had
shoved a pole up his back. She wasn’t the only one to notice.

“What is it?” Marguerite asked with concern as Jackie moved to join him in the doorway.

At first glance everything seemed in order…until Jackie noted the legs sticking out behind the desk, a man’s legs in trousers and dress shoes. Those legs weren’t moving.

Slipping past Vincent, Jackie crossed the room and moved around the desk, stopping short the moment she was able to see the whole man. She knew it wasn’t Phillip, the accountant. He was on vacation. Whoever it was, however, was dressed like an accountant, full business suit, nice tie, expensive dress shoes…In fact, the only thing that ruined the image of the wealthy, successful businessman was the knife in his chest.

Nine

“I’m guessing this is Stephano Notte?” Jackie asked, unable to look away from the pale, prone man. The mortal vice president of the company who had been missing from his office.

“Yes.” Vincent’s voice was almost a whisper and she peered his way. On first glance, one could be forgiven for thinking he wasn’t affected. His face was a cool mask of indifference, but not his eyes. They were glowing silver-blue and swirling with a mix of pain and fury and what she thought might be guilt. Jackie suspected he feared the saboteur was behind this and was blaming himself for it. She’d like to tell him that it probably wasn’t the case, but the plain envelope sticking out of the breast pocket of the man’s jacket belied that. The return address was all that was showing, but it was enough; it was Vincent’s address.

“He’s alive.”

Jackie tore her eyes away from the lifeless figure and glanced at Marguerite with surprise. “What?”

“He’s alive,” she repeated, staying by the door, but pushing it closed after a nervous glance out into the outer office. “I can hear his heart beat.”

Jackie turned back to the man and knelt to check for a pulse. She was sure she wouldn’t find one, it looked like he’d been stabbed through the heart. Surely he hadn’t survived that?

“They must have missed the heart,” Marguerite said, apparently reading her mind. “I can hear it beating. It’s slow and not very strong, but it’s beating.”

“I can hear it too.” Vincent knelt abruptly at the other side just as Jackie found his pulse. It was thready, but there, she realized with amazement. Stephano Notte wasn’t dead. Yet.

“We need to call an ambulance,” Jackie said urgently, straightening and moving toward the desk.

“He won’t survive long enough for that,” Vincent announced. “He’s dying as we speak.”

“We have to try,” she said grimly as she picked up the phone.

“Vincent, what are you doing?”

Marguerite’s sharp question made Jackie pause and turn back to see Vincent rolling up his sleeve.

“When I say
now,
take the knife out,” Vincent ordered as he opened Stephano Notte’s mouth.

“No, you can’t!” Marguerite protested, rushing forward. “Let me.”

Jackie frowned, her hand clenching the phone as she
tried to sort out what was happening. Marguerite rushed to Vincent’s side, but wasn’t fast enough to stop him from biting into his own wrist. It was a deep bite and must have been painful, but he didn’t even wince. He merely shifted the gushing wound over Stephano’s open mouth and let the blood pour in just as his aunt reached his side.

Marguerite had reached out to catch his shoulder as if to physically stop him from what he was doing, but now sagged in defeat at his side.

Legs suddenly weak as she grasped what was happening, Jackie slumped against the desk, the phone still clasped in her hand. She watched fascinated as Vincent slid his free hand under the man’s neck and lifted him slightly to facilitate the liquid going down.

“Oh, Vincent,” Marguerite moaned the words, sadness heavy in her eyes as she—for some reason—peered from him, to Jackie, and then back and shook her head.

Disturbed by the woman’s reaction, but not understanding it, Jackie set the phone back and moved shakily to stand on Stephano’s other side as Vincent turned him. At least, she thought that was what he was doing.

“Take out the knife.” Vincent’s words were hissed through gritted teeth.

Glancing at his pale face with concern, Jackie automatically knelt to do his bidding. She didn’t really think, she just did it, her hand closing around the metal handle and pulling upward. It wasn’t until she met resistance that her mind realized that she was pulling a knife out of a man’s chest. A shudder of revulsion rushed through her, followed by a wince of sympathy as the knife finally came free and slid from the wound.

The moment the metal weapon was clear of Stephano’s flesh, Vincent took his wrist away from the prone man’s mouth and allowed the last of the blood dripping from his wrist to drop into the open wound on Stephano’s chest.

“Will it work?” she asked as Vincent’s wound stopped bleeding and he set the man back flat on the ground.

“I don’t know. We might have been too late,” he said unhappily.

Marguerite removed a handkerchief from her purse and handed it to him, and Vincent quickly wrapped it around his wrist. He tucked the end under the binding to keep it in place, then bent forward again to lift Stephano’s eyelids and peer into his eyes.

“It will work,” Marguerite said and the regret in her voice made Jackie glance her way sharply. It took a moment for her to sort out why the immortal was so upset by this turn of events, however, then Jackie recalled the rule about only turning one mortal in a lifetime. Most immortals saved that turn for their life mate. Vincent had just used it to save his vice president. If he found his life mate, he wouldn’t be able to turn her.

Her eyes returned slowly to Vincent. His expression was grim, his face pale as he watched over the man who he’d just sacrificed so much for, and she felt tears sting the back of her eyes. Had she really thought all immortals were selfish, arrogant beings who only saw mortals as walking dinner? Dear God, the man had just given up the opportunity of ever having anyone to share his very long life with to save a mortal.

“What’s done, is done,” Marguerite murmured fatalistically,
drawing Jackie’s blurred vision back. She asked, “What do we do now?”

Jackie stared, not a single idea forming in her head. It was Vincent who said, “He’ll need blood and lots of it. But we need to get him out of here without anyone realizing he survived.”

Blinking her inertia away, Jackie took a moment to sort out why he thought no one should know Stephano had survived the attack, but then she realized he’d been stabbed head on; he must have seen his attacker. If the saboteur knew he’d survived, he’d make another attempt to kill him to keep him from revealing who he was.

She was impressed that Vincent had picked up on that right away. His thoughts were working much more quickly than her own at the moment. However, now that it was faced with a problem, her own brain started to function once more.

“Why stab him?” she asked suddenly. When Vincent peered at her blankly, she explained, “Stephano is a mortal. If the saboteur is an immortal as we’re assuming, why didn’t he just wipe his memory? Why stab him?”

“Stephano’s mother was mortal when she had him,” Vincent explained. “As was his father. She was widowed when he was still quite young and became the life mate of an immortal. Of course, Mrs. Notte became an immortal herself, had her son Neil who is also an immortal. She wanted to turn Stephano too, but he wouldn’t allow it.”

“Stephano grew up the only mortal in a family of immortals,” Jackie realized.

“In instances like this, the mortal often learns to block
some of our abilities,” Marguerite said. “Like you have. It’s simple self-defense.”

“So, the saboteur couldn’t completely control him?”

“It’s possible. Or perhaps, couldn’t wipe his memory fully,” Marguerite suggested. “And rather than take the chance he’d remember, killed him. Or thought he did.”

Nodding, Jackie reached forward to grab the letter sticking out of Stephano’s breast pocket, only to pause as she saw the knife still clutched in her hand. It was actually a letter opener, not a knife. Grimacing, she set it on the carpet beside her, then snatched the letter from his pocket and opened it. All it said was:

A friend of yours? I’m afraid he got in the way.

The next one will be someone you chose.

“What does it say?” Vincent asked.

Jackie silently handed the letter over, her thoughts occupied with what the words meant. The first part was obvious. Stephano must have interrupted the saboteur while he was in here doing something and only been killed because he got in the way. The last sentence was the one that troubled her.

“The next one will be someone you chose,” Vincent read aloud. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m guessing it means that now that he’s moved on to murder, he intends to continue in that vein,” Jackie murmured, her gaze dropping to the man on the floor. Stephano Notte might still die, and even if he didn’t, it would only be because he’d been turned. The saboteur had intended for him to die and was working on the premise that he had.

“Yes, but what does he mean by it will be someone I choose?” Vincent asked with distress.

“Chose. Past tense,” Jackie corrected with a frown and shook her head. “I’m not sure what he means by that.”

Although she had some ideas, Jackie acknowledged to herself. None of them were good though and she really would rather they didn’t come to pass.

“How long until we know if he’s going to survive the turning?” she asked.

“He’ll survive,” Marguerite assured her. “I’ve seen people in worse shape survive it.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, her gaze sliding back to the man on the floor. He was pale and unmoving and she wouldn’t have found it hard to believe he was already dead, except that the wound on his chest appeared smaller to her than it had been when she’d first pulled the letter opener free.

“How long does a turning take?” she asked. That was one thing there was very little information on in the agency files.

“The worst of it is usually done in the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours, though it can take a little longer depending on the extent of the injuries or illnesses they have,” Marguerite answered. “He’ll wake up after that, but the turning won’t be completely finished for weeks afterward.”

Jackie nodded. It was the waking up part she was interested in. The moment Stephano woke up, they could get the name of the saboteur from him, round the man up, and prevent anyone else from getting hurt or dying. She frowned. A lot could happen in twenty-four to forty-eight hours.

“All right.” Vincent stood abruptly. “We need to get him out of here and back to the house to start giving him blood.”

“And we need to do it without anyone knowing he survived,” Jackie added, standing as well.