Before Dawn (4 page)

“Stay away from the door.”

In his birthday suit, Ryan darted to the doorway, keeping to the side, and scanned the hallway. It was clear. He stepped beyond the threshold and pulled the bedroom door shut after him, glad he’d oiled all the hinges in the house when he’d first arrived three months ago.

He moved to the top of the stairs.

From downstairs, a male throat cleared. Loudly. Deliberately.

He froze. Then he cursed.

More throat clearing. If possible, the sound was faintly amused.

Ryan pulled his finger from the trigger guard and stalked down the stairs. A light came on in the living room, which he could see into from the lower steps. A tall, heavily muscled man stood by the side table holding the lamp, grinning from ear to ear and making Ryan wonder if the grin would grate on his nerves so much if a broken nose accompanied it.

“Damn it, Savage. How long have you been down here?”

“Long enough to know you got the better assignment.”

Ryan turned away and raked a hand through his hair, muttering a few choice words under his breath.

“Is she as hot as her pictures?”

Ryan whipped his head around and pinned the other man with a glare that promised retribution, the slow and painful kind, at a later date.

Nate Savage lifted his hands, palms out. “Hey, sorry, buddy.” He didn’t sound the least bit apologetic.

Ryan compressed his lips. “Fuck off.” He started up the stairs. “Make yourself useful and get some coffee going.”

“I could’ve interrupted you as soon as I got here instead of waiting politely,” Savage called after him, sounding too damned pleased for Ryan’s liking. Ryan wisely decided not to take the bait.

The cold draft warned him she was gone before he saw the empty bedroom and the open window. He cursed. Not bothering with clothes, he raced down the stairs, ignored Savage’s startled expression, and burst through the front door.

When he caught sight of her, she was already on the ground and coming around the side of the house, headed for the Volvo he’d told her about. She turned her head, saw him, and sped up.

What the hell?

Ryan leapt over the overgrown shrubbery concealing the porch railing and went after her. She was surprisingly fast and nimble, but the club he belonged to didn’t recruit just anyone off the street.

When he was close enough to reach out and touch her, Ryan dove, caught her, and they both went down on the cold, crunchy grass. He’d curled his body around hers, taking as much of the impact as he could.

To show her gratitude, she turned into a wild thing in his hold, fighting madly to be free of him as low, feral sounds escaped from her throat.

He called her name, told her to stop, but she only fought him harder.

He ended up taking several blows, because he was hampered by the need to not hurt her more than necessary and, frankly, small people, untrained or not, were hard to submit. A small fist struck his temple, making lights dance in front of his eyes. A slender forearm nearly crushed his Adam’s apple as a bare foot dug into the inside of his thigh and another his stomach, making him grunt in pain. A knee would’ve found his groin had he not shifted at an opportune moment.

“Fuck!”

Employing the technique he’d used earlier, Ryan seized her fists, yanked them over her head, and crushed her with his body. She went still, her muscles all but vibrating with tension, but her eyes gleamed up at him. Ryan wondered when he’d stepped into an alternate reality. Was this the same woman who’d initiated some of the best sex of his life?

“You were only supposed to run if there was trouble,” said Ryan, his jaw so tight he wasn’t sure how the words got out.

Mercy blew out the strands of hair in her mouth, all the while eyeing him with blatant mistrust. He sighed then pried the keys from her fist. She resisted until his thumb found a pressure point in her wrist. She gasped, her fingers loosening.

“I’m feeling left out,” Savage called from the open doorway.

Ryan felt like snarling, but he couldn’t tell the other man to go back inside. With his naked ass making one hell of a target, he didn’t feel particularly safe being outside with Mercy and no cover. The safe house’s isolated location was both a pro and con. And right at this moment, it felt like an army of ants was crawling all over the back of his neck.

Ryan felt Mercy tense beneath him. His exposed back and other body parts were cold, and he didn’t think she was all that comfortable herself on the uneven ground. He wanted to simply throw her over his shoulder and carry her back inside the house, but she’d only try to run away again. Tact in combat, he knew. Tact in getting a woman to trust him was as familiar to him as the feminine obsession with footwear. He was going to have to wing it.

“We’ll go inside, I’ll put on some clothes, then we’ll sit down and talk.”

In silence, she continued to eye him with blatant mistrust.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he said, an edge he couldn’t mask in his voice. “Trust me, if I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it while you were unconscious and couldn’t fight back.”

A fleeting emotion slid through her eyes.

His voice lowered, hardened. “And if you’re regretting what happened in that bed, just remember who started it.”

Mercy showered and dressed in the neatly folded clothes she found on the bed. The panties, blue jeans, and long-sleeved T-shirt fit surprisingly well. There were even socks and sneakers in her size. She pulled them on, thinking they would’ve been handy during her failed escape attempt.

While running a comb through her damp hair, she realized she shouldn’t be surprised by the attention to detail. From what she’d overheard, she’d been an assignment. She didn’t know why any organization would be interested in her, but she didn’t think it would be one of Uncle Sam’s three-letter acronyms. An official government agency would’ve taken her to a hospital after her attack.

Or was she being hopelessly naïve?

Mercy went downstairs and, following the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of low male voices, into the kitchen. Conversation stopped at her arrival. She studied them, both tall, one darkly handsome and so muscled she wondered if he had trouble bending down to tie his shoelaces. His clothes were black, from the pants to the shirt to the shoes to the shoulder holster. Even the firearm nestled in the holster was matte black.

The other man was dressed similarly but was leaner, blond, and scowling at her. She assumed there was another bathroom in the house because his closely cropped hair was still damp. When she couldn’t avoid it any longer, their eyes met, and the soreness between her legs seemed to treble, making her intensely aware of it. Her skin tightened and prickled as gooseflesh rippled. Perversely, her core went molten, and she had to fight the urge to squeeze her thighs together.

Golden eyes traveled the length of her. “How’re you feeling?”

Mercy crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself, feeling naked despite the clothes. “Fine.”

His lips thinned, as if he knew she was lying. After a long moment, he powered off the portable television sitting on the counter before turning around, opening the refrigerator, and pulling out a glass bottle of orange juice and a carton of blueberry yogurt. He retrieved a spoon from one of the drawers and put the items on the counter. Since both men were drinking coffee, Mercy assumed the juice and yogurt were for her. She stared at the items, trying to recall the last time someone had taken care of her, and couldn’t. She’d always been the one taking care of details for the people around her. However, she only blinked at the juice and yogurt as she felt her stomach shrink.

Her gaze returned to the men. “Who are you?” She’d wanted the question to come out clear, strong, but the low words sounded as if her throat was lined with sandpaper.

The dark-haired one answered first. “Nate Savage.” His head tipped at the blond. “And I’m sure you already know Ryan McGinnis.”

Heat crawled up her neck and spread to her face as various parts of her body throbbed. Nate Savage lifted a single speculative brow. Mercy tightened her arms, then merely lifted her chin and calmly said, “Those are your names, not who you are.”

The scowl on Ryan McGinnis’s face eased a bit, and his eyes glinted with something like approval.

Savage’s teeth flashed white. “Who do you think we are?”

Vampire hunters.

The words popped into her head and wouldn’t be dismissed. But that was beyond the realm of all logic.

Mercy shook her head as if to clear it. “I want to leave.”

“And go where?” asked McGinnis.

“Home,” she said, a wisp of longing in her tone.

“You won’t be safe there.”

“A police station then.”

McGinnis’s look said he questioned her sanity. “And tell them what? You’ll be lucky if they don’t admit you to the funny farm.”

“Someone attacked me—”

“Some
thing
,” he corrected.

Mercy pressed her lips tightly together to keep them from trembling. “Someone,” she repeated softly, uncertainly.

“There’s no time for denial. The sooner you come to grips with the truth, the better.”

She glared at him. “And what is the truth?” she demanded, her voice going up an octave to keep even with her anxiety level.

“You were there,” he said, sounding as if he was forcing the words out through gritted teeth. “You know what happened. You have the marks to prove it.”

As if on cue, her breast throbbed and her sudden anger drained away. Her hand moved, hovered over her breast, then fisted and clamped around her elbow once more.

She shook her head. “A prop from a costume shop,” she murmured, even though the canines had felt painfully real when they’d pierced her flesh. An involuntary shudder ran through her body.

“He jumped out a three-story window, yet there was no body on the ground.”

“I only have your word for it.”

He made a sound very close to a growl.

Savage stepped forward. “Please forgive my friend. We don’t normally allow him to mix with civilized company. The etiquette lessons never took.”

The dark-haired man moved toward her, but she jerked away.

“Do I need to be worried?” she asked McGinnis, needing to hear the reassurance from him. “I was…bitten.” She gave her head a small shake, not quite believing the words coming from her own mouth. “What do I need? A tetanus shot?”

It was Savage who answered. “Vampires don’t carry diseases, except vampirism.”

Vampirism
. Mercy shook, unable to repeat the word aloud.
Jesus.
Somehow, her lips moved as if her brain had switched to automatic pilot. “What about holy water?”

“Holy water and crosses are useless,” explained Savage. “Silver, garlic, sunlight. You take their heads or stake them through the heart. Silver bullets will slow them down but won’t kill them. Same with garlic. Burns like hell, but you need a lot to do serious damage.”

“Jesus.”

“Prayers don’t help.”

Mercy breathed deeply, carefully, not wanting to pass out and wishing she would. Savage managed to place a hand on her shoulder and guide her forward two steps before she shrugged off his touch and faced McGinnis again.

“Back at the museum, I assume you didn’t just happen to be in the neighborhood.”

His face was wiped clean of expression. “No.”

“Were you following…” Her voice trailed off. She swallowed and tried again. “Were you following Edmond? He told me his name is Edmond. No surname.”

“No,” he said again.

It was a lengthy moment before his reply really hit her. Her eyes went wide and her fingers clenched reflexively.

“You were following
me
? But
why
?”

His response didn’t follow immediately, and his face seemed to sharpen, as if his skin was tightening over his features—and ice frosted the inside of her hollow stomach as an unseen hand curled around the column of her throat.

Without pausing to consider the consequences, she strode to him, reached out, and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Why, damn it?”

“You were the bait.”

She let go of his shirt and slid a step back. McGinnis’s hand came up, but he seemed to think better of touching her. But there was no need. She wasn’t feeling shock or faint. For some reason, his words calmed her. He didn’t lie to her and he didn’t try to pretty up the truth.

But was it truly calmness? Or had the ice inside her numbed every emotion?

“What made me so special?”

It was Savage who spoke. “About four months ago, I found one of Edmond’s safe houses. He had pictures of you posted everywhere.”