Broken Heart 05 Over My Dead Body (3 page)

Or maybe it just changed form. Sometimes, people like me who didn’t have bad luck would have no luck at all.

With Candyland safe and sound once again, Glory went off with Grandma Elaine to do her schoolwork. She wasn’t yet ready for attending Broken Heart’s school, so we homeschooled her. Glory loved to read, hated math, and liked to do science experiments.

I walked Brady to the porch, like I’d done every night before.

“It’s nice, what you do,” I said. “Glory’s happy when she’s with you.”

“She’s a good kid.” He hesitated. “What about you, Simone? You happy when I’m around?”

Brady leaned on the porch post, staring at me. His question lingered in the air between us. I hadn’t thought about my happiness in a long time. I’d been in survival mode for so long that I couldn’t wrap my brain around happiness. Three years ago, I was miserable. One year ago, I was killed and made into a vampire.

Maybe it was time to consider the idea of being happy.

So long as I didn’t get used to it. I was well aware that expectations bred disappointment.

“Simone?”

“Sure.” I nodded. “Yeah. I like having you around.”

“Well, that’s a start.”

I looked away from Brady’s tender gaze and toward the night sky. In this part of Oklahoma, the stars twinkled like jewels studded in black velvet. Crickets chirped, wind rustled the long grass, and in harmony with it all, the creek burbled.

Brady didn’t say anything else, and I didn’t want to ruin the moment. I stepped down onto the rutted path, hoping he’d take a hint and follow me over to his truck. This was the first time he’d stayed so long; he usually chose to say his good-byes and go back to the build sites. I stayed home with Glory until it was time to open the garage.

“You never said yes.” He was right behind me, and I felt his touch along my arm. My skin prickled.

“To what?” I turned, my undead heart trying to do a jittery mambo.

“To our date.”

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble,” I said. “It’s silly to go out with each other just to prove we’re not liars.”

He chuckled. “I don’t give a shit what people think about me.” He leaned down, his hands light on my shoulders. His eyes were dark, hungry. It’d been a long time since a man looked at me liked that. Both fear and excitement snared me.

“Are you as sweet as you pretend?” His warm lips ghosted along mine. I couldn’t move, but even this gentle caress was enough to make me remember how sweet a kiss could be. Oh, how I wanted to embrace him and take the gift he offered. I let my lips mimic his, but I kept my hands fisted. I couldn’t let go, and I couldn’t let him in.

Brady lifted his head, his brown eyes filled with questions. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day I met you,” he said in a raspy voice. He leaned down and did it again, in the same soft, patient way.

My knees wobbled.

“Okay,” I said. “Okay.”

His lips hitched into a sexy grin, and he stepped back. Had I the ability, I would’ve sucked up some air. But vampires didn’t really need constant use of their organs, and my lungs refused to operate.

“Until we meet again,” he said, Roy Rogers style. He tipped an imaginary cowboy hat and turned, sauntering to his truck.

Oh, my God. I was going on a date with Braddock Hayes.

I opened the garage at ten thirty p.m., just like I did every night except on Sundays. Sundays were for family, and when I was human, it was also for church. Becoming a bloodsucker didn’t make me any less of a believer in God, but it did make it difficult to attend a place of worship. Broken Heart was slowly turning into a town that catered to the paranormal. However, I doubted we’d get us an undead preacher any time soon.

Main Street was empty, as usual. I pulled my truck around the back, cut the engine, and hopped out. I didn’t get a lot of business. Most paranormal beings didn’t have a big need for automobiles, much less auto repair, but I still managed to keep busy. Not to brag, but I could fix just about anything. I was too stubborn to let anything mechanical get the better of me, so I never gave up. The owners sometimes did, though. That’s why I had a few projects in my garage that I tinkered on whenever I got the chance.

I always thought it was a shame that I got Turned by a Master from the Family Velthur. I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful. It was just that the Family Zela can manipulate any kind of metal, and I did a lot of metal work. The Family Velthur’s power was the manipulation of liquid, mostly water. Don’t get me wrong; sometimes it came in real handy.

I’m probably not explaining this right. Y’see, every vampire was from one of the seven Families. All vampires got what Doc Michaels called the basic package: strength, speed, übersenses, and mind mojo. Then each vampire Family manifested a specific power. Family Ruadan flew, Family Durga wrangled demons, Family Amahté communicated with the dead, Family Lia controlled fire, Family Koschei had mondo mind powers, Family Velthur mojo-ed all liquid forms, and Family Zela manipulated metals.

The garage was located off Main Street, not too far from the Old Sass Café. I had a three-bay garage, a small office that always smelled like oil, and a back lot filled with car debris. My storage shed was out there, too. I loved that perfume of grease and gas. I associated that smell with the first time I walked into Joe Montresso’s garage and he gave me a job. I didn’t know jack shit about anything, much less engines and such. But he taught me everything. And I built a career on that kindness. I built a whole life around it.

Since I was officially open for business in ten minutes, I left the glass door unlocked. I rounded the waist-high counter. Below the counter was my work space. It was too tiny to call a desk. An office chair wouldn’t fit back here, so I just used a bar stool donated from the Old Sass Café. As usual, piles of paperwork filled every available spot; my inbox/outbox and file folders were empty. Don’t talk to me about organization. I was one of those people who could find what I was looking for in the mess I made, but never in a neatly filed folder or color-coded binder.

I tossed my keys on the receipts for jobs done and flipped on my ancient computer. I could’ve gotten a new one—I could’ve gotten a new everything. But I didn’t take the Consortium’s deal. I owned my plot of land and my business; just like my grandmother owned her land and her house. We agreed to stay, and they agreed to stop harassing us about selling.

Last year, Broken Heart had been a small town on the verge of extinction. People were moving and businesses were closing.

Then the vampires came.

Okay, it was like this: Lorcan O’Halloran had the Taint, which was a nasty disease that rotted the insides of vampires until they went crazy. Eventually, they died. Some just walked into the sunshine rather than suffer. The Consortium, however, bled Lorcan dry and filled him with royal lycan blood. He turned into a hungry, crazed were-vamp. The radical cure saved him, but not before he’d killed eleven of us single parents.

Don’t ask me how ol’ Lorcan managed to do that—it seemed a crazy coincidence that he noshed on the unmarried. Scarier still was that all of us Turned. Usually, only one in ten humans survived. The Consortium and Ancients had all kinds of rules about Turning, but I never paid much attention. I would never Turn a soul. I’d committed enough sin in this lifetime, thank you.

Anyway, I was scrubbing oil stains off the driveway. I’d stayed really late at the shop, hoping to work off my frustrations with life in general. One second I was scraping the concrete with a stiff brush, trying to think of the words to “Summer Nights,” and the next I was yanked up by my ponytail. The smelly, furry beast bent me backward like a dancer dipping his partner, and savaged my neck.

I woke up on a steel table in a white room, fang-deep in a nice-looking man who said his name was Velthur. Yeah, that Velthur. The vampire who started my Family four thousand years ago was the one who Turned me. No other Turn-blood had been given that privilege. I wonder sometimes if that’s why my power seemed a little stronger than most of the other Turn-bloods.

I heard the men’s dress shoes clicking on the sidewalk about fifteen seconds before the door swung open. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. Even before I looked up, I knew who it was.

“Hi, Reiner. Long time, no see.”

He grinned at my little joke, his eyes dipping to my chest. Why did men always check out the boobs? Even when they’ve seen ’em a hundred times before. Figuratively speaking. I wore a red tank top under my denim overalls. I owned a lot of tank tops and overalls, and several pairs of sneakers. It was my uniform. I didn’t have much cause to own dresses and heels. I was short, but I had a helluva bust.

I cleared my throat. Reiner took the hint and dragged his gaze back to my face. “You are very lovely, Liebling.”

“Thanks.” I guess. I tucked my hands under the counter and clenched them. “You need something fixed?”

“Just my heart,” he said. He walked to the side of the counter and leaned against it. “You’ve broken it.”

He didn’t know it, but I was immune to his kind of slimy charm. I looked up at him, all confused innocence. “I sure don’t know what you mean, Reiner. Did I do something to hurt your feelings?”

“You’re dating Brady.” He put a palm against the center of his chest and sighed. “I never had a chance.”

He looked a little wolfish, which, of course, was in his nature. All the same, I didn’t enjoy the look in his eyes. If the jerk didn’t get off my counter, I was going to break more than his heart. Try all ten of his fingers. I swallowed my anger and stood up. I picked up my keys and stuck them in my pocket.

Aiming a sunny smile at him, I said, “I gotta get to work.”

I rounded the counter with every intention of pushing past him and leaving. Unfortunately, there was only one way in and out of the office. I had to go out, turn left, and open another door to get into the garage.

He turned to face me, effectively trapping me between him and the desk. I was five foot five, and Reiner was a good foot taller than me. If he was trying to show me he was bigger and stronger, then mission accomplished. I wanted badly to take a couple steps backward, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“What do you want?” I asked, keeping my tone friendly. I heard the tremor in my words, though. I just hoped he hadn’t.

“I would like you to assist with a project.”

Reiner asking for my help was so unexpected that my fear abated. I eyed him. “What kind of project?”

“It’s a gift for Queen Patricia,” he said. “Something I wish to give her at the Moon Goddess festival.” He grinned like a little boy who’d found where his Christmas presents were hidden. “You’re the perfect woman for the job.”

Reiner leaned closer, his grin widening. His gaze dipped to my mouth. I didn’t like this, not at all. I couldn’t decide if he was being threatening or flirtatious.

Then he lifted his hand.

Jesus. Terror spiked my belly and desperation bleached my courage. I couldn’t stop the shiver, couldn’t stop the half step back. The open palm slap had been my husband’s favorite. It stung like hell, brought tears to my eyes, and left a satisfying red welt on my cheek. The welt faded, but the humiliation never did.

“Are you all right, Liebling?” The hand he’d raised went to his ear, which he scratched.

For an odd moment, I wanted to blurt, “You got fleas?” I held my tongue, though. It wasn’t wise to insult werewolves. Besides, if he did have a flea condition, it was none of my business. I was all about minding my own freaking business. And so should everyone else, goddamn it.

My gaze flickered to the hand Reiner dropped to his side. He had long fingers and nails glossy from a manicure. Big hands, like Jacob. Nausea roiled, and I swallowed the knot forming in my throat. I hadn’t had a flashback like that in a long time. Jacob no longer had control over me, over what was mine.

The two candy bars in the top pocket of his shirt crackled as he shifted position, his eyes more curious than menacing. He saw the direction of my gaze and took out one of the candy bars. Baby Ruth.

“Would you like one? They are very good.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want any treats from him. I just wanted him to go away. I studied the checkered linoleum as my thoughts whirled. Had Reiner dropped by because he wanted my help with this mysterious project? Or because he wanted to throw down with Brady? Either way, I wished Brady was here.

Ah, hell. I’d like to think I was an independent woman, one who didn’t need to be rescued. I knew I could save myself—I already had. Sometimes a girl just wanted a white knight to show up, lift her onto his horse, and race away from the danger. Yeah. Even a girl like me, who gave up on white knights long ago.

I was overreacting, but I couldn’t quell the anxiety pouring through me. Reiner hadn’t really done anything to harm me—or even to suggest he’d harm me. Yet he was still blocking me, and I really wanted to get to the door.

“Simone.”

For a second, I couldn’t believe my ears. That deep voice belonged to Brady.

Reiner’s eyes widened in surprise and he looked over his shoulder. I was surprised, too. How had Brady managed to get into the office without me or the lycan noticing?

I sidled around Reiner. Brady stood just inside the door, looking like the last piece of chocolate cake on the buffet. He snaked an arm around my waist, and my knees nearly buckled.

“Hi, honey,” he purred.

“Hey, there.” My voice was quivering and so was I. Brady noticed, too. His mild expression didn’t change, but I felt the tension in his muscles.

“Reiner,” he said jovially, “you’re not trying to flirt with my girl, are you?”

Reiner shoved his hands into his pockets and laughed. “Trying, but failing, I’m afraid.”

He sauntered to the door, forcing Brady and me to move farther into the office. Reiner pushed open the door and paused, looking at me. His gaze told me all kinds of things I didn’t want to know—such as that he liked a challenge. Then he nodded to Brady, and left.

I tried to pry myself out of Brady’s arms, but he swung me fully into his embrace and stared at me. I could see the concern in his gaze, but I was barreling past rational straight into freaked out.