Cunningham, Pat - Legacy [Sequel to Belonging] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (9 page)

Colleen allowed Jeremy to guide her inside, with Wallace at their backs. She couldn’t let go of Jeremy. Scared? Hell yes, she was scared. She’d just been attacked right outside her own door by a guy with teeth like a T. Rex. She’d watched the man now at her heels ram a stake through his chest. Funny how she wasn’t scared of
him
. Funny, yeah. Laugh riot.

Their home was a two-story—spacious living room and kitchen here on the first floor, with a stairwell that presumably led to a bedroom or bedrooms and a bath. Jeremy took her into the living room. By the time he got her settled in an overstuffed recliner her body had started to shake.

“I’m okay,” she chattered with a quivery smile. “Really. I’m okay.”

“Sure you are.” Colleen jumped. Wallace had appeared beside her chair. He’d gone into the kitchen and now, wham, here he was. He took her hand and folded her trembling fingers around a glass of dark liquid. “Whiskey,” he told her. “Drink up.”

With Jeremy’s help, she got the glass to her lips. The liquor burned down her throat like lava. After the resulting coughing fit passed, she felt somewhat better.

Jeremy took the glass from her. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“I went to the mall after work and bought a dress, and then I went home and got out of the car and he jumped me.” Maybe if she said it all in one rapid burst she’d have less time to be terrified. “I tried to fight him, and he hit me. Then Wallace—”

Then Wallace killed him and he crumbled like a cookie
. Not even speed talking would let her get that out. She grabbed at Jeremy’s arm for comfort and went silent.

Jeremy turned to Wallace. “I took a swing by her place,” Wallace said. “Good thing. I got there right after the party started.” He grinned. “You should have seen her waling on the guy. Sweetheart, you’re a regular Xena Warrior Chick.”

“Another one?” Jeremy asked.

“Had to be another one. The first ain’t coming back.” He watched Colleen with an unsettling, blinkless stare. “No way this is coincidence.

“It’s the cult, isn’t it?” Colleen said. “They’re still after me. Why? What do they want with me?”

The stare whipped over to Jeremy’s face. “Cult?”

“You know,” Jeremy said with deliberate emphasis. “The blood drinkers. The ones you hunt.”

“Oh. Right. That cult.” He gave Jeremy an odd look. “They must be sharing intel. Not their usual MO.”

“Maybe you should have questioned him.”

“There kind of wasn’t time. Damsel in semi-distress and all.” Wallace shrugged. “Another one bites the dust, so what? Plenty more where he came from.”

“Please,” Colleen said. “Isn’t it bad enough you killed that man in cold blood? With a
stake?
Do you have to joke about it?”

“Hey, you’re welcome.”

“She saw you?” Jeremy cupped her chin and tilted her head to face him. “You saw him?”

“No.” She jerked her head free. “I didn’t see anything. I was scared. I was in shock. I hit my head. I was hallucinating.”

“Don’t try to shit us, sweetheart. Or yourself. You’re tougher than that. That man who jumped you wasn’t a man, and you know it.”

“Wallace—”

“Stow it, Scarecrow. If she’s been targeted by a flock, she deserves to know what she’s up against.” He hunkered down beside the chair to bring them to eye level. Those jungle-cat eyes held admiration. “You’re one nervy chick. You don’t put up with bull, even the bull you dish out to yourself. You know what you saw.”

“I told you, I didn’t see anything. I couldn’t have seen what I saw. What I thought I saw. Vampires aren’t real. They don’t exist outside of bad books and TV shows.”

Wallace leaned forward. The chair left little room to cringe away. His sea-breeze scent and emerald eyes pinned her to the fabric. Yet, even now, she didn’t fear him.

Until he smiled. Animal fangs flashed in a tiger’s grin. She discovered she had just enough room to recoil after all.

“Sometimes,” Wallace said, still smiling, “TV gets it right.”

Chapter 5

“You’re an asshole,” Jeremy said. “You know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Wallace said. “Usually by you. How you holding up there, sweetheart?”

“Leave me alone,” Colleen’s muffled voice snapped. She perched on the edge of the recliner’s seat, bent over with her head between her knees. She hadn’t passed out, thank God for small mercies, but the room had gone dangerously gray for a minute. Jeremy crouched beside the chair. His hand made soothing circles on her back.

Wallace said to Jeremy, “You told her we were a
cult
?”

“I had to tell her something. If I’d said vampires, she’d have thought I was nuts.”

“Yeah, you’re right. ‘Cult’ works so much better. So what am I, the high priest?”

“No, you’re…” His voice picked up a sheepish note. “Special Agent Hamilton.”

“Seriously? Oh, well, that solves everything. I’ll just give the Bureau a call, and we’ll dump it on Mulder and Scully. Jesus H. lap-dancing Christ.” His next words came from far too close to her ear. She felt no breath against her skin. “I am not a special agent.”

“I kind of figured that.”

“We are not a cult.”

“You’re not a vampire, either. You
are
crazy. Both of you.” She lifted her head to glare at Jeremy. She wasn’t quite ready to look Wallace in the fangs again just yet. “I don’t know what kind of nutty role-play fantasy thing you’ve got going here, but leave me out of it. I don’t play those games. Take your fake teeth, and go away.”

“Feisty,” Wallace pronounced. “I like this one, Scarecrow.”

“Stop making fun of me. Vampires aren’t real. They can’t be.”

“Then riddle me this—What happened to the guy I staked? Don’t tell me you didn’t see that.”

“I must have blacked out for a second.”

“And the voice in your head? The one telling you to come outside? To come home? How’d they pull that off?”

That jab won him her stare. “How do you know what he said?”

“I heard him same as you did. We’re all pretty much on the same frequency.” Wallace stood and leaned against the recliner’s armrest. “Look, sweetheart, here’s the deal. Vampires are real. We come out at night, we drink blood, we sunburn like a son of a bitch, the whole nine yards. You need to accept that because that’s what’s after you. It would help if we knew why they’re so undead set on nabbing you. Any insights?”

“How would I know? I didn’t do anything. I don’t go to Goth bars or bite clubs or whatever they call them. I babysit preschoolers, for God’s sake.”

Jeremy rubbed her shoulder. “It’s okay. We believe you. Don’t we, Wallace?”

“Sure, Scarecrow. Whatever you say. Even when you say we’re a cult. Don’t make that face at me.”

“Start being helpful, and I’ll stop.”

“Stop being a bitch, and I’ll start being helpful.”

“Stop it!” Colleen yelled. Both of them backed off. She spotted the glass of whiskey where Jeremy had placed it on the end table. She snatched it up and drained the remains of the liquor in one quick gulp. Wallace grunted. She set the empty glass aside and glared up at Wallace. “You’re a vampire.”

He showed off his fangs. “At your service. Just don’t ask me to sparkle. I don’t do that shit.”

She swung her glare over to Jeremy. “So what are you, his human slave?”

Jeremy shrugged with a little half-smile. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Wallace snorted. “The hell. He doesn’t do half of what I tell him. Watch this. Slave, get your perky ass over here, get down on your knees, and suck my cock.”

“You can kiss my perky ass.”

“You see what I mean?” Wallace said to Colleen. “If he wasn’t such a hot piece in bed I’d dump him.”

“Can we get back on topic here?” Jeremy said. “Colleen’s life is in danger.”

“Yeah, okay. First thing we do—”

“First,” Colleen broke in, “you cut the crap right now. I’m done. I’m calling the police. I want—” She waved her hands helplessly and ended up resting her head in them. “I want to go home.”

“Not a good idea,” Wallace said. “They know where you live. They’ve got your scent. They’re single-minded bastards. They’ll keep coming until they get you. You’d better stay somewhere else for a while.”

“He’s got a point,” Jeremy chimed in. “You might not think so now, but you’d be safest here.”

“What about Annie and Gus?” Wallace asked. “They’ve got the room, and they know what they’re doing. We could take her there.”

“No, we can’t. Shayla’s there, too. We’re not putting her in danger.”

“Shit, you’re right. Okay, it’s settled. The chick stays here.”

“Colleen,” Jeremy reminded him tersely. “It won’t kill you to remember her name.”

“Excuse me,” Colleen said. “Do I get a say in this?”

They both looked at her and said in unison, “No.”

“Look,” Jeremy went on, “I know this is a lot to throw at you at once. At least stay the night. We’ll try to figure something out in the morning.”

She looked at them dubiously. Stay the night. Here. With two men whose nearness made her nerve endings tingle in a scarily erotic way. One of whom claimed to be a—no, screw that. She wouldn’t say that word again, not even in her head.

It was Jeremy who decided her, and her longing—screw that, too, make it a need—to be near him. She trusted him completely, in spite of his outlandish claims. As for Wallace, maybe if she didn’t think about his teeth, she could make it through one night.

“All right,” she said. “Just for tonight. Tomorrow I’m calling the police. And nobody mentions the V-word, okay?”

“Got it.” Wallace grinned, this time without showing any teeth. “So, which of us do you want to ‘protect’ you? Scarecrow’s not big on human partners, but I’ll try anything once. Or twice. Or—”

“Wallace!”

“Okay, okay. I was just trying to lighten the mood. Jesus, Scarecrow. You take the fun out of everything.”

Wallace withdrew to the kitchen to mutter and grouse while Jeremy helped Colleen out of the chair and shepherded her upstairs. He pointed out the bedroom and bath and the linen closet where she could get a fresh towel and washcloth. A closed door stood at his back, presumably to another bedroom. Maybe he and his vamp-obsessed hubby played Buffy and Spike in there. Colleen couldn’t summon the nerve to ask.

By the time Colleen had finished a quick wash up, changed into the shirt Jeremy provided for a nightie, and crawled into the king-sized bed, she had to admit she felt better. All right, maybe “better” was a bit strong. Not as shell-shocked, then. The adrenaline rush must have worn off. She pulled the blankets around her to stave off the return of the chills. Just hold on, she told herself. Hold on until morning. Then she’d be able to think again.

Except for when she looked into Jeremy’s eyes or listened to the growl of Wallace’s voice. Then rational thought took a back seat to other, more carnal reactions.

It’s perfectly natural, she tried to convince herself. She’d now been attacked twice, and both times these two men had come to her rescue. She’d observed Jeremy with Shayla, and Wallace had killed both assailants on her behalf. The father and the protector, two basic traits the primitive female at the core of all women looked for in a mate. Throw in a hormonal explosion triggered by a brush with danger and small wonder her body had reverted to survival mode and gone all horny on her. They could be in their eighties, and she’d still lust after them. Simple human biology.