A Bite to Remember (26 page)

“What’s happening?! Why is she screaming?!” Tiny cried with alarm, rushing to the bed.

“It’s the change,” Marguerite said soothingly, then glanced toward the door with relief as Christian hurried in.

“I found some rope,” he announced, which was unnecessary since they could see the rope dangling from his hand as he hurried to the bed.

It took all four of them twenty minutes to get Jackie tied down. Once it was done, Marguerite led Tiny out of the room, murmuring reassurances. Christian followed, silent and grim and Vincent had to wonder if the man had ever seen a turning before. He himself hadn’t and hoped never to see it again. Jackie seemed to be in agony. He tried to reassure himself by repeating the mantra that when it finished, she would be immortal like him and they could be true life mates, but it didn’t seem to help much. He hated to see her suffer so.

Suddenly weary, Vincent pulled the dressing table chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. There was nothing he could do to ease her way, but he would endure it with her. Jackie was his now. Forever. As long as she agreed to it, he
added wryly. She was his true life mate. He just had to make her see it.

Vincent spent the rest of the night and all the next morning trying to figure out a way to do that as he watched over Jackie. Marguerite spent most of that time keeping him company, leaving the room every hour or so to retrieve another bag of blood from the kitchen. They took turns changing the bags until she retired to her own room to take a short nap at midmorning. Vincent was nodding off in the chair when she returned at noon with a fresh bag of blood in hand.

“How is she?” she asked, moving to the bedside to peer down at Jackie.

“Fine. Quiet now,” Vincent said as Marguerite removed the empty blood bag in the IV stand beside the bed and replaced it with a fresh, full bag of the red liquid.

Vincent had no idea where Marcus had found the IV stand and didn’t care enough to ask. It was enough that he’d found one while fetching the extra blood from the hotel he and Christian had planned to stay in. He supposed the man must have got it from the hospital, or a hospital supply store, but hadn’t cared enough to ask.

Vincent hadn’t spoken much to either man since Jackie had started to turn. He’d been told they were staying close in case the saboteur returned to finish what he’d started. They seemed to think everyone in the house might now be a target, at least Tiny, Marguerite, and Jackie. It seemed they’d decided his saboteur was determined to hurt him. While Vincent had to admit that was how it looked, he couldn’t imagine what he might have done to make anyone hate him so much.

“Thank God she’s stopped thrashing and screaming,” Marguerite murmured as she finished her work with the IV and threw out the empty blood bag. “I don’t think Tiny could handle much more. The poor man is terribly upset. He loves Jackie like a sister and while he’s glad she’ll live, he’s concerned about what all this means and how she’ll take that she’s turned.”

Vincent nodded. “I know. Thank you for keeping him out of here and keeping him busy.”

“It was for the best,” Marguerite said with a shrug. “He’s been cooking up a storm downstairs. He’s also eating the food as quickly as he’s cooking it. I think he’s a comfort eater.”

“You’re fond of him,” Vincent said.

“Yes. Having him around is like having a second daughter.”

Vincent blinked at the comment, then gave a short laugh. Six-foot, two-hundred-and-eighty-pound Tiny…a second daughter? He shook his head.

Marguerite returned to Jackie’s side and frowned as she brushed a finger lightly down her cheek. “She’s much more peaceful now. The worst of it must be over.”

“We can hope,” Vincent said quietly. “How much longer will she be out?”

Marguerite shook her head. “It’s hard to say. In my experience, it usually only takes a day or two, but with Stephano it took three.”

“Four,” Vincent corrected.

“What?” Marguerite peered at him blankly.

“It’s been four days and he still isn’t awake…Is he?” Vincent added as he caught the expression on her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said on a sigh. “He woke up shortly after
Jackie was attacked last night. I meant to tell you, but when I got back here Jackie was screaming and thrashing and I forgot.”

“He’s awake?” Vincent asked, sitting up with amazement.

Marguerite nodded.

“Has he said who attacked him?”

She shook her head. “His mind was wiped. He can’t recall anything about being stabbed, though there are fragments of the episode in his mind, none of them reveal the intruder. I suspect those fragments are why the saboteur felt it necessary to kill him. He probably feared he might pull the memory together eventually. And he might,” she added encouragingly. “He’s trying to sort it out now.”

Vincent sagged back in his chair, his gaze returning to Jackie. For a brief moment he’d hoped Stephano might be able to tell them who his attacker was and this whole ordeal would be over. He was terribly disappointed that his problem persisted. He was hungry, but didn’t dare feed.

“Allen Richmond has finished fixing the panel at the gate,” she announced.

Vincent nodded with disinterest. Marguerite had mentioned earlier that Christian had made Tiny call the security company about the broken panel first thing that morning. It seemed it was repaired.

“And I ordered pizza. It’s here,” she added.

“Why?” Vincent asked with bewilderment. “You said Tiny was cooking up a storm.”

“I ordered pizza for you,” she explained firmly. “Tiny can toss the pizza for all I care, but I put the delivery man in your office for you.”

“I’m not—” Vincent began to deny he was hungry, but it was a lie. His body continued to need blood whether he wanted it or not. “Thank you, Aunt Marguerite, but I…I can’t. What if the saboteur—”

“I don’t think that’s a concern, Vincent. It’s the middle of the day,” she pointed out. “The saboteur will be home asleep and having sweet dreams about what he thinks he’s done. This is probably the safest time for you to feed.”

Vincent nodded slowly, seeing the sense in what she said. This probably
was
the safest time for him to feed. Sighing, he stood and moved toward the door. “I won’t be long.”

“I already paid him, but you might want to give him a tip,” Marguerite said as he slid out of the room.

Vincent didn’t run into anyone on the way to his office. After finishing with the delivery man, he slid a twenty-dollar bill into his pocket, then saw him out of the house. After locking the door behind him, he turned to find Tiny in the hall.

“How’s Jackie?” the giant asked with concern. The mortal looked horrible: pale, exhausted, and haggard, with anxiety pulling at his bulldog features.

Vincent forced a smile. “She’s stopped thrashing and screaming. She’s resting much more peacefully. I think the worst is over. Hopefully she’ll wake up soon.”

Tiny’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank you. I’ve been worried.”

Vincent clapped a hand on his shoulder in understanding. “She’ll be fine,” he assured him and was relieved to be able to say it. For a while there, Vincent hadn’t been sure Jackie would survive the turning. She’d lost so much blood
in the attack…But she’d survived the worst of it and should be fine now. He hoped.

“Can I see her?” he asked. “I wanted to come up earlier, but the Italians wouldn’t let me.”

“The Italians?” Vincent asked, then realized he meant Christian and Marcus. Marguerite had told him that they were in the kitchen, grilling Tiny about everything that had happened in the hopes of figuring things out and stopping the saboteur before someone else got hurt. He didn’t doubt for a minute that retribution was part of it too. Stephano was their cousin after all.

As if drawn by the fact that they were talking about them, the kitchen door suddenly opened and Christian and Marcus strode out. Their footsteps slowed as they spotted Vincent.

“How is she?” Christian asked.

“The worst is over,” Vincent admitted. “She’ll survive.”

“Good.” Christian nodded at the news, then asked, “Marguerite said you didn’t recognize the attacker?”

“No.” Vincent felt his shoulders slump with defeat as he admitted that. It had been so dark and everything had happened so fast…Then too, the guy had been dressed all in black and with a half mask over his face from his nose up, leaving only his mouth free to tear into Jackie’s throat. “I got a vague impression of size, small and wiry. Other than that…”

Christian nodded again as Vincent’s voice trailed off. His gaze slid to Tiny and then back before he said, “We’ve been up all day, we’re going to catch a couple of hours sleep. Dante and Tommaso will watch the house until we get up.”

“Dante and…?” Vincent’s question died as the newly
repaired buzzer sounded, announcing someone at the gate. Eyebrows rising when Christian nodded, Vincent moved to the panel and asked who it was. He wasn’t surprised to hear the names Dante and Tommaso. He pushed the button to open the gate, then turned to catch Tiny peering warily at the two immortals. It made him wonder what threat the men had used to keep Tiny downstairs and away from Jackie.

Vincent turned his gaze to Christian and Marcus. “Dante and Tommaso—?”

“My cousins. Twins,” Christian explained. “You can trust them.”

Since Vincent hadn’t determined yet if he trusted Christian, his assurance wasn’t worth much, but he let it go.

“Which rooms do you want us to use?” Christian asked.

“The first two on the right are still empty,” Vincent announced. “If you’re all staying, you’ll have to double up.”

Christian nodded acceptance, then a knock at the door drew Vincent’s attention. Turning, he moved back to open it to reveal a man clad in leather and even larger than Tiny. Vincent managed to hide his startled reaction at his size. Nodding in greeting, he stepped out of the way for him to enter, noting that the second man, his twin, was also large and covered from tip to toe in black leather. Both men had long, black hair.

Vincent closed the door behind them as Christian rattled off a couple of sentences in Italian. He then added in English, “Vincent is in charge until I get up.”

Vincent’s eyebrows flew up at this announcement, but Christian was already leading Marcus upstairs and the two mountains that were Dante and Tommaso were turning
expectantly his way. He didn’t have a clue what to say, or what orders to give.

“This is Tiny,” he said finally. He asked, “Do you eat?”

They looked young to him. Vincent couldn’t say what it was about them that made him think they were young, something about the eyes. He’d gotten good at judging the age of other immortals over the centuries and these two appeared to him to be young enough that they might still eat. Of course, they were big too, like Lucern, and it generally took food as well as blood to keep the muscle mass.

“We eat,” Dante said solemnly.

Vincent nodded. “There’s pizza in the kitchen.”

When the two men simply stared at him, he realized they didn’t know where the kitchen was. Turning impatiently, he headed for the kitchen, saying over his shoulder, “Go on up and look in on Jackie if you want, Tiny. Marguerite’s there.”

Tiny was halfway up the stairs before Vincent finished speaking. He led the twins into the kitchen and then eyed them uncertainly. He didn’t know them or their medical status. It was probable they could feed off bagged blood, most immortals could, but just in case he said, “Tiny is mortal. No biting.”

Dante and Tommaso exchanged a grimace that suggested they were insulted that he felt he needed to say as much, but both nodded as they moved to sit at the table. Dante dragged the pizza box closer and opened it to inspect the contents. It was still completely intact.

“No anchovies?” Dante asked.

“Sorry,” Vincent said, then stared as Tommaso ripped off the lid of the pizza box, lifted out half the pizza, and dropped
it on the lid, using it as a makeshift plate. Dante then drew the bottom half of the box fully in front of himself, apparently laying claim to the other half of the pizza.

“Maybe I should order more,” Vincent muttered, turning to head out of the kitchen.

“Anchovies on two of them,” Dante called after him.

Vincent went into the office to place an order for four pizzas, two with everything, including anchovies. He then walked back up the hall and stuck his head into the kitchen.

“Give me a shout when the pizzas get here and I’ll come down and pay for them,” he instructed, thinking he might as well get in another bite while he could. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

Dante and Tommaso both grunted in response, their concentration on the pizza they were stuffing into their mouths.

Shaking his head, Vincent headed back upstairs. He hadn’t slept since the attack and was tired, but didn’t intend to sleep until he was sure Jackie was out of the woods. Marguerite seemed to think she was, but he wouldn’t be sure until she opened her beautiful eyes and spoke.

Jackie felt like hell. It was her first conscious thought and was accompanied by a moan as she shifted in bed. Her body was aching and weak. She’d obviously either been beaten black and blue and left to recover, or she was waking up from one hell of a flu.

She barely had that thought when her memory returned and the events of the night before flashed into her mind, harsh and stark. Sucking in a breath, she reached for her throat, almost expecting to find it still torn open and crusted
with blood. She didn’t feel either. Her skin felt a little raised, but there was no blood, and surprisingly enough, no bandages or pain.

Her gaze slipped to the side and she peered at the man asleep in the chair by her bed. Vincent. He was a dark outline in the faint light. It was obviously nighttime and her room would have been completely black, but the bathroom light had been left on and the door cracked open to allow some of it out. In that bit of light, she could see that his eyes were closed, his head nodding on his chest.

Jackie watched him sleep, recalling his coming to her rescue on the beach. He’d charged in fearlessly, risking himself for her. She smiled softly at the memory as her fingers played over her throat again. Where was the wound? Troubled by its absence, she pushed the blankets aside and eased to a sitting position, shocked at how difficult it was. She was as weak as a baby.