Deep Deception (2 page)

Chapter Two

Adin moved the curtain back a little to look down at the street again. Once he’d made a number of impromptu financial arrangements, the boy—the little monster—as Adin privately thought of him, was his. That was only when he could think around the constant stream of annoying patter—English with a decidedly northern British accent—the boy hurled at him from where he sat on the bed. He’d been like that ever since Adin had closed the hotel room door, which surprised Adin because the boy seemed to accept him at first, following him meekly back to his hotel. Together, they’d walked sedately across the elegant lobby and stepped into the old-fashioned elevator.

Of course, the boy had still been
in chains
.

Even in France someone was bound to ask about that.

“Come on, Edward. Come on…
Come on
…” He held his cell phone and waited for Edward’s voice in his Bluetooth earpiece. After the third ring, the call went through to voice mail and Adin cursed. He tried another number with the same result.

“What’s the matter?” the adolescent voice grated on him. “Had a spat with your blood-drinking boyfriend?”

The little monster had that right, because Adin had left Spain and his vampire lover Donte under a cloud of disappointment and mistrust. Donte treated him as though he required constant supervision. Adin had hoped Donte might lighten his grip when he realized he didn’t need to hold so tightly, but it never happened. After five months of kendo classes and hyper-vigilance and constant lecturing, he’d left a note saying he was heading for France
.

I’ll be back, but you’re going to have to get used to letting me come and go.

This new situation with Harwiche wasn’t going to endear him to Donte at all.

“Vampires can be all fickle like that. One minute it’s all nom-nom-nom, and the next minute they’re up for something foreign. Get a yen for something more exotic, did he?”

“Shut up.”

“Maybe your bloke doesn’t trust you. Maybe he figures you want to be some other vampire’s pudding.”

Adin turned on the boy. “Look,
you
. Get out of my head. You need to
shut up
and let me think. Did you natter on like this to your captors all the time? They should have paid me to take you. Talk about
The Ransom of Red Chief
.”

“Let me go,” the boy said desperately. “You have the key, just
let me go
.”

“I can’t.” Adin stepped toward him but kept out of range of the boy’s hands and feet. “I paid a hundred thousand dollars of my own money to someone I don’t know, merely to take you out of that basement. I can’t let you go until I know you’re safe.”

“Safe?”

“Yes. You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know.
I’m trying to help you
.”

“I’m not scared of you.” The words were mostly bravado, Adin thought.

“I—” Adin sputtered. “I take it that although you can—apparently—rummage around in my head, you’re not entirely privileged to its contents, because right now I’m picturing things that
would
scare you, starting with giving you back to those men so they can do whatever it was they had planned before they picked
me
up by mistake.”

“By mistake?” The boy’s gaze was assessing. “You really didn’t—”

“I have no fucking clue who or
what
you are. I don’t even care, except that it seems wrong to keep a boy chained in a basement.”

“What do you want from me? What—”

“Stop
AT ONCE
.” Adin whirled back toward the window when he heard the familiar
wee-oo
sound of French sirens and tires screeching in the street below. “And by that I mean stop fumbling around inside my head and blabbering outside of it. Sit on the far side of the bed,” Adin commanded, knowing it couldn’t be seen from the door. “And shut the fuck up.”

He dialed Tuan’s number from memory and waited as that also rang through to voice mail. It was mid-morning in California.

Where are they
?

“I’d like to figure out how to get my money back.” A sharp rap sounded on the door. “But if that’s the police, I’ll have to turn you over to them. I’ll explain that you’ve been abused, and I was trying to help you. You might be safer with them than with me anyway.”

“No.” Fear drew the boy’s face taut. They gazed at each other for a long time. Adin said nothing and the boy gave nothing away.

“All right.” Adin sighed and turned to the door. “I’ll try to hide you, but you have to know I have very little hope of succeeding. I’ll probably be arrested. My name is Adin, by the way.”

“Adin,” the boy repeated. “I’m Bran.”

“Bran.” Adin scrubbed a hand through his hair before reaching for the doorknob. He left the chain in place. “
Perfect
. You’re already a pain in the ass.”

Adin barely had time to twist the knob when the doorframe shattered and the chain gave way, sending the old wooden door flying at his face with stunning velocity. He was knocked back by the blow and staggered for a few feet until he felt cool hands catch his arm.

“
Adin.”

Adin put a hand to his forehead and it came away bloody. “
Ow
…” He blinked until his eyes could focus. When they did he saw a familiar face gazing at him with worried brown eyes.

“
Boaz
?” Adin asked stupidly. It hadn’t yet occurred to him why his lover’s erstwhile right-hand man might be standing in his room. “You didn’t have to break the door.”

As Boaz helped Adin to a chair, he spoke sharply to the man behind him. “You’re such a shit sometimes, Santos. Come on in.”

“Sorry,” Cristobel Santos murmured politely as he stepped into the room, welcomed by Boaz. Adin had some trouble reconciling the fact that Donte’s right-hand man now seemed to work for Donte’s mortal enemy. He wasn’t adept at the vagaries of vampire politics, but it seemed to him that their entire world was one big episode of
Survivor: The Undead Edition
.

For good or ill Boaz was here, and even though he’d brought Santos with him, it was a safe bet Donte had instructed him to clean up whatever messes Adin got into. Again.

Adin sighed.

Santos kept his distance as he studied the boy on the bed. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

“Vampire.” The boy’s voice—while it seemed to hold contempt—was laced with fear.

“Yes. You, on the other hand—”

Bran hissed something profoundly vulgar and Adin didn’t hear the rest of what Santos said. Boaz entered the en suite bath and then returned with a damp towel, which he pressed against Adin’s forehead.

“Hello, Santos.” Adin took hold of the compress. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Ask Boaz. I’m here because he insisted we come.” Santos went to the door and closed it. He pulled the splintered wood bits off, threw them away, and let the chain dangle. “I suspect he was ordered here.”

“Boaz?” Adin addressed his friend. Boaz had entered Adin’s life in the guise of a hotel limo driver, but Adin later found out he worked for Donte Fedeltà. Boaz was only the first of many safety measures Donte put in place when he’d become interested in a human lover, a man whom he’d considered oh-so-fragile.

“Donte telephoned.” Before Adin could vent his frustration, Boaz held up his hand. “He’s right. If you didn’t get yourself into these messes in the first place…”

Adin ground his teeth again. He worried this new habit would wreak havoc on his bite.

“That’s not important right now.” Santos turned and barked at Bran to freeze, and Bran backed into the corner of the room behind the bed. “Boaz, lie down on the bed and be…
impish
. I’ll deal with this.”

Adin stepped forward. “Santos, I hardly think—”

“I’m beginning to believe that, Adin. At first I thought Donte was exaggerating the problem.” A knock sounded on the door, which Santos held shut in its broken doorframe. “Now, can you be quiet? Or will I have to tear your head off and put you in the bathtub to bleed uselessly down the drain?”

Adin pressed his lips together.

“Very good.” Santos opened the door to the hotel manager and four uniformed police officers. The look he gave them was one of surprise as he spoke to them in heavily American-accented English.

“What can I do for you gentlemen this evening?”

“Dr. Tredeger?” The manager looked beyond Santos to where Adin stood.

“That would be me,” Adin acknowledged with a nod. He continued to press the towel to the wound on his forehead and wondered what
les flics
would make of that.

“My name is Villiers, I’m the hotel manager. May we come in?” he asked politely. Adin’s heart slammed against his ribcage as he turned to find Bran’s terrified eyes on him.

Santos spoke. “Certainly you may, M. Villiers. I confess Dr. Tredeger and I were expecting you, under the circumstances.”

“
Santos
,” Adin hissed.

“Now, Adin, you’ve been a very, very naughty boy. Admit it. I had to break down the door and you got hurt in the process.”

Adin gazed at Santos, uncomprehending, as the vampire came to him and pulled the compress from his face. “Poor baby. Our Boaz has been naughty too. What did I tell you about taking play too far? Someone always ends up needing stitches. Say you’re sorry, Adin.”

Adin’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sorry.”

“No you’re not, you stubborn man.” Santos chided, even as he tapped the tip of Adin’s nose affectionately with his index finger. “Well, M. Villiers, my partner and I normally have rules, and I admit that we broke some of them this evening. And a few commandments. And the door, I’m afraid, for which Adin and I will gladly pay. But no actual French laws, I think.”

As M. Villiers and the police officers advanced into the room, Adin held his breath. He didn’t dare look anywhere but at Santos. He was trying to figure what Santos’s game was when one of the police officers, a woman, uttered a startled exclamation and backed from the room.

Adin’s gaze went to the bed and even he was shocked by what he saw there. Boaz lay on the bed, nude, stroking a monstrous erection with manacled hands. He was the very picture of erotic abandon, all dark eyes and wavy hair, like one of the boys in a Caravaggio painting. His lips glistened and his cheeks and chest bore the flush of his arousal. He was chained at his neck, wrists and ankles just like Bran, who still cowered in his chains against the wall of the small room. Adin’s gaze flew to Santos, who simply stared straight ahead. He didn’t have time to wonder whether it was an illusion, and if so, who was creating it, because M. Villiers cleared his throat by coughing and politely placing his closed fist tightly over his mouth as though to hold in a shout of alarm.

Adin glanced at the police officers. They had furious color high on their cheeks, but none of them spoke.

“Boaz, my dear, please tell the nice M. Villiers that you are a guest and not a hostage.”

Boaz pouted, and Adin could see he was having fun in his new role. “What’s in it for me?”

“What is always in it for you, my dear? Whatever you choose. So, M. Villiers,” Santos asked. “What may I do for you?”

“I’m very sorry. Dr. Tredeger, I received a report of an underage boy…”

The police officers rolled their eyes when Santos said, “Did you hear that, Boaz? A pretty compliment. Thank the man.”

Boaz licked his lips deliciously and stroked himself again. The head of his cock was darkly engorged, glistening from within a hood of foreskin, and Adin found it difficult to take his eyes off it. Through half-closed eyelids, Boaz gazed at M. Villiers, whose own eyes nearly bugged out.

Boaz uttered a breathy, “Thank you,” and his lips curled into a satisfied smile.

“Adin, is there anything you’d like to add?” Santos gave the back of Adin’s neck a gentle pinch.

Adin tore his gaze away from the figure on the bed—not an easy thing by any means, as Boaz appeared to be an erotic fantasy come to life—and finally found his wits. “I stay in this hotel whenever I’m in Paris, M. Villiers. Has the management suddenly become interested in my personal life and my…hobbies?”

Bran still stood frozen in the corner of the room behind the bed, but for whatever reason, M. Villiers and the police officers said nothing about him.

“I apologize for the intrusion. It is, as always, your business how you spend your time.”

“Well, I thought so. Provided that I’m careful with the furnishings and kind to the staff.”

“And you’ve always been that, Dr. Tredeger. Please forgive the intrusion.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” Villiers motioned for the police officers to go ahead of him, after which, he saw himself out.

When they’d all left, Adin let out the breath he’d been holding.

“How the fuck did you do that?” He turned to find Boaz sitting demurely on the edge of the bed, fully clothed, while Bran sagged against the wall.

“Does Donte never tell you anything?” Santos murmured. “I daresay he’ll be fit to be tied over this.” Santos used a finger to pull the compress away from Adin’s face and then, to Adin’s horror, he licked the skin there, teasing at the wound with his tongue to close it.

As if someone had reached out and snapped Adin’s spine at the place where his head met his shoulders, Adin felt the tremendous zing of an electric shock all over his body, and his knees buckled.

“
Ow
.” Adin lost his footing.

“That will be your master—” Santos chuckled, helping Adin sit next to Boaz on the side of the bed, “—expressing his displeasure.”

“I have no master, Santos,” Adin ground out, holding a hand out to Bran to indicate that it was safe for him to sit. “I have a lover. And he can see how much it pleases you to mess with him.”

Bran sat warily. Adin wondered if he was subdued by a visit from the local police or by the presence of what was obviously a very powerful vampire.

“You have a master, Adin. To him, you are no more than an exotic pet. I suggest you keep in mind that vampires are easily bored. I’m already bored, but I thought we might take a walk. Have a late supper. Boaz will watch the child.”