And To Hold: Vampire Assassin League #20 (7 page)

Getting free of the bed slats had been an easy matter. He didn’t have much room for maneuvering into a sitting position. Hadn’t mattered. They’d either used weak wood on the bed’s construction, they had termites, or he’d gained a lot more power to his blows recently. He decided it was the first option. He’d freed his left hand with a karate chop known as
shuto uchi
. The move shattered wood, released his tie, and littered the bedding with splinters. He’d then smacked the right hand free, and gained a wooden spike that was jagged on both ends. What he hadn’t managed was to get her ties loose from his wrists.

That woman really knew how to tie a knot.

He worked at them for several seconds before giving up. If he found a blade, he’d hack the ribbon ties off. In the meantime, the stake dangled from his arm as he shrugged back into his trousers. He palmed it in order to shove his arm through a jacket sleeve. Socks next. Shoes. Felt odd wearing slacks without briefs and a jacket sans shirt, but those were non-issues. First things first.

Find that woman and show her that he was even better if he was mobile.

What the hell?

The instant thought stopped him in his tracks. He stared unseeingly at the big-ass door for a moment. Where had that idea come from? And why? Another love bout with Ruxanna was not in the plan. It wasn’t even on the agenda. Despite her mating for life talk, she’d been little more than a diversion. That was all. One, he’d never forget. And...
shit
. His knees wobbled slightly.

Focus, Zach
.

He had a sexual deviant, a garage, and transportation to locate. A castle to vacate. A flight out of Bucharest to arrange. A scumbag to deliver. And one-point-five million Euros to collect.

In that order.

Zach shook his head to clear it and closed in on the door. That chunk of wood was over twelve feet in height. Looked exactly as solid as before. It had a long handle. And it was locked. Zach slammed a fist into it and watched in fascination as his knuckles made a hole right through what appeared to be six inches of oak. Without one bit of pain or skin damage.

Okay.

They really needed to work on their construction around here. He’d worked with particleboard that had more resilience and strength. Here, he’d thought this was a grand castle on a medieval scale, not some cardboard-created fake. Zach took the flight of steps outside with a leap, staying crouched at the foot of them. The hall was deserted, hollow-sounding. Dimmer than he remembered. Then again, he’d been following Ruxanna’s rear-end. He didn’t remember much beyond that. This area looked like an authentic bit of castle. Stone-walled. Sturdy. Alcoves and corners sent dark spikes of shadow into the gloom. Just went to show, once again, that nobody could judge a package by its cover. Ever.

Except Ruxanna. Oh.

Baby...

She’d been wrapped in perfection, packaged with sensation atop excellence, and delivered on all of it. That body of hers. Those lips. Every hint of scent. Every kiss. That woman was created for his loving. Oh...
hell
. This was worse than reminiscing. Zach spun on his heel. Looked up the span of steps to her bedroom door. Pink-toned smoke was spilling out the portal and slipping down the stairs, dissipating before it reached where he crouched. He almost expected her to be standing up there.

Nope
. The view was nothing but a dark portal.

Zach rose to his feet and skimmed walls, using shadows for camouflage. The farther he moved away, the more resistance he came up against. Like the rubber band effect was in place again. Each step got harder. Even the air got involved. It felt like he was pushing against a physical barrier to close in on the stairwell. Once he rounded the newel post and started down, however, the pulling sensation eased. Not by much; but enough he didn’t resemble a subject in a wind tunnel experiment.

The flight of stairs got narrower and rougher-cut. He had to round corners twice. The closer he got to the bottom, the easier each step got. He could have jogged the final few if he wanted. Everything was just a little too weird. The ride in. This castle. His greeting. The bondage stuff. And, if he had to tag it, he felt an odd sense of sadness.

Stop it, Zach.

He wasn’t on a trip into the occult or a dip into the supernatural, and he hadn’t taken a flight right off the deep end. And he sure as hell wasn’t a vampire’s mate.

His steps stopped. Why did he tack that last bit on? It was a clear violation of Rule One. Those rules were inviolate. He’d learned that from Dad. You couldn’t solve a mystery if you didn’t have the boundaries firmly established going in. Those four rules eliminated all kinds of hoaxes, tricks, and illogical solutions, so the truth could be discovered. That was Mystery Solving – 101.

So, why did he feel like he needed to hold her? Sweep her into his arms and never let her go? He actually felt kind of empty. Sad. Almost grief-stricken. Why was that happening? He was getting a sensation right now so near to tears, he had to swallow against it more than once. What would explain that weird emotion?

Hypnotism?

Could be. Maybe Miss Ruxanna was a hypnotist. That explained a lot. His loss of recollection in the green salon. The rubber band effect. That kick-ass sex romp.

Ah
.

That had been one amazing experience.

No. Stop it, Zach.

He wasn’t reminiscing here. He had a plan and he was following it.

But...if she was a hypnotist, she was a master at it. That might explain why he didn’t have the mental acuity to fight it. But hypnotism fell under Rule Three. If you didn’t believe in it, it didn’t exist. He didn’t believe in it. He didn’t believe in mating. Or vampires. As far as he was concerned, the jury was still out on whether love existed, as well.

And who the heck had said anything about love?

Man. Was he losing it here?

“Zachariah.”

Her voice came right through the space around him. Zach slapped his back against the wall and took in the surroundings in about one-point-two-five seconds. The staircase was narrow. Dark. And still empty. He was the only occupant.

Oh shit.

He really needed to get out of this funhouse. While he still had mental and physical functions. His heart gave a painful thud in his chest. Then another. As if he’d just run a marathon and was severely dehydrated. What now? He couldn’t even think about leaving her without some physical reaction? His heart grew heavier. He put a hand to his chest and held it there. The sensation muted a little. Enough so that he could move.

Zach jumped the final steps, landing soundlessly. He’d been right about these stairs. They led to the bowels of the place. It definitely qualified as a dungeon. The walls were rough-edged stone, the place was gloomy, and there wasn’t anything down here but the smell of rust, decay, and unwashed quarters. The steps ended in a short hall.

He hugged the wall at the end before craning his neck to see around the corner. He’d reached a square room, roughly twenty-by-twenty, lit by a series of long fluorescent tubes that gave off a slight humming noise. It looked deserted. Two wooden, uncomfortable-looking benches furnished the place, spaced between alcoves. The end door was familiar-looking. It could be the twin of the one he’d just smashed a hand through.

Ruxanna’s door.

Ah...

Her door led to the mother-lode of all ecstasy. The epitome of paradise. The zenith of heaven. It was unbelievable. Vast. Consuming. His body experienced an immediate flood of warmth along with an infusion of excitement. It felt like she was with him, her unique blend of perfume shading the air in front of him, that sweet corset defining her waist and framing her bosom, and thigh-high stockings skimming her legs. They’d been silk stockings, in a midnight black shade. Held in place with rose-embellished garters...

Oh. Shit.

This was annoying as hell.

Everything about where he stood was grim and gloomy. Nothing about it should trigger a sensory-laden reminder of his love tryst with Ruxanna. If anything, his balls should be sucked up to his pelvis in trepidation and fear. He really shouldn’t be hard enough so soon that he stretched the slacks. Zach shuffled in place, gaining a bit of room. He could really use cotton briefs about now.

And his senses back. And just then, as he watched, rose-shaded fog started seeping from beneath the end door, making little whirls of color and light as it moved. Zach gaped and spun. And hit pay dirt.

Well.

Looked like his search for Leroy was over.

The guy was behind a display of iron bars that weren’t going anywhere in a hurry. A quick check showed two other cells, almost identical to this one. They were vacant. This was definitely a dungeon and Leroy its lone occupant. The guy was fastened to the back wall with chains. Manacled around both wrists and one ankle. He was regarding Zach with a glimmer of interest.

Ugh.

One-point-five million Euros had never looked so disgusting. Leroy was weepy, smelly, and what looked like blood oozed from his nose and off his chin, dripping onto his not-very-clean shirt as Zach watched. And for some reason that made Zach’s pulse tick up a beat, while his teeth started tingling like he’d just touched his tongue to the terminals of a 9-volt battery to test it for battery life back when he was a kid. Tasted pretty close to that, too. Like he’d just licked something metallic. The steel of a knife. Top of a tin can. This was getting almost scary.

Leroy sneered. “You lost?” he asked.

Zach cleared his throat and looked down and across at him. “Leroy Walters?” he returned.

“Maybe. Who wants to know?”

“Zach Reed. Bounty hunter. You’re coming with me.”

Leroy chuckled. A bit of blood spray came out with it. Zach’s teeth tingled again.

“You’re going have to stand in line, Junior.”

“Oh. I don’t think so,” Zack told him.

“You got some keys and a big gun on you?”

Leroy lifted an arm. Iron jangled with the move. Leroy had a point. Zach needed a key, and after that, a weapon. He was lethal with bare hands and feet, but weapons made everything easier. Displaying a weapon, as well as a bit of showmanship, worked well as a deterrent. Avoiding a fight was better than enjoining one. Saved time, too.

The thin piece of wood wrapped in his hand was going to need company. He probably should have taken some time upstairs to look for something with more visual impact like a sword. Even a knife would be better than a wooden bedpost.

“Zachariah?”

Ruxanna’s voice called him again. Goosebumps on his skin answered her. He glanced over his shoulder. Nobody there. Again. The door was still shut, too, although a dim glow was behind it now, outlining the dimensions of it.

“Zach?”

Ah. How cute. She used his nickname.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“I didn’t say anything,” Leroy informed him.

“Where are you?”

“Uh. Dungeon,” Zach replied automatically.

“No shit,” Leroy said.

Zach blinked. All right. He was getting annoyed, scared,
and
pissed. “Get ready, Leroy. You’re leaving.”

Zach eyed the bars. Maybe they were made of rubber, like those Western set-ups they used for old-time fake photos at county fairs. He grabbed the center bars and pulled outward. And Leroy started sputtering.

Rubber was out. It felt more like electrical conduit as he bent it outward. He did the same to the next set of bars, bowing them as well, making a human-sized gap he stepped through.

“Shit, man. Those were iron bars.”

Leroy was wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He could use some mouthwash and a good dose of deodorant. Even a spritz of air freshener might help. Zach lifted the chain holding Leroy’s leg to the wall and pulled. A chunk of what looked like stonework came out of the wall, but that was just another indicator. This place was constructed with little more than sand and spit. Zach lifted one of Leroy’s arms and yanked that chain out of the wall. Then, he freed the last one.

“Get up,” he said when he stepped back.

“Whoa. Junior. I saw it, but I still don’t believe it. What the hell kind of drugs are you on?”

“Get up, Walters. I’m not asking again.”

“I’m going. I’m going.”

The man shuffled to his feet making a ton of noise. Zach grabbed a shoulder and shoved the guy toward the opening. He must have used too much strength. Leroy rammed into the bars and stumbled backward, and almost fell.

“All right. All right! No need to—shit. You should be in a Strong Man contest, Junior. You’d be world champion. You wouldn’t be trying to earn a few bucks off my sorry ass.”

“Then move,” Zach replied.

“These weigh a ton, Junior. I don’t suppose you’d oblige?”

Zach tromped on Leroy’s foot, bent to grab his ankle chain, and yanked. The link attached to the manacle burst, releasing his leg, but leaving the cuff around his ankle. Leroy yelped like it had hurt. Zach grabbed a wrist chain and pulled, popping it free at exactly the same spot. He did the same to the other one. Then he tossed the chains aside, making even more noise.

“Now. Get moving.” He told him when he’d finished.

“Whoa. Junior. Anything you say. Shit. Don’t hit me. You’ll knock my head off.”

“The only reason you’re still alive, Walters, is because it’s easier to get a walking man onto a flight than part of a corpse. But don’t push it. I get paid to deliver you alive or dead. You got that, old man?”

“Loud and clear, Sport. I don’t suppose you got a cigarette on you?”

Zach smacked a hand to the guy’s middle back. Leroy shot through the gap and landed in a heap on the floor. He was moaning and sobbing as if it hurt. If the guy hadn’t cut and mutilated five women since Zach had known of him, maybe he’d feel sorry for him. Zach regarded him for several long moments in consideration. He’d never had such power to every movement. He might have to look into it once he got out of this place.