Don't Blackmail the Vampire (5 page)

“…stupid. She was fine. You saw it yourself. Let’s go back on the slopes. We can still get in another hour,” Brent said, and Charles could practically see the sneer that tainted his tone smeared across his face.

“I’m not in the mood. I’m going to go take my sister some hot chocolate. You saw her ankle.”

“Barely swollen. Looked fine to me,” Brent muttered. “Whatever. I’m going to go find Cole. Maybe we can track down Charles. He’s probably back on the slopes by now anyway.” A pause. “You know how important impressing this guy is to us. You’re the one who keeps pressuring me to find a job—”

“I’m not pressuring you—you know what, it’s fine. Just go.”

“Fine.”

Good for Kristen. At least she had a little backbone—where her sister was concerned, anyway. He almost felt bad that he didn’t have a job for Brent. The man was supposedly doing some work here and there—projects at friends’ companies and the like. But mostly their lifestyle seemed dependent on Kristen’s trust fund, and her modest income as an interior designer.

The door slammed shut and Kristen took a haggard breath that Charles ached to echo. Why was she lingering?
Go get your sister the fucking hot chocolate.

Not a charitable thought, but in about two seconds he was going to have to spring out from under the bed and work mojo on her mind to keep her from remembering he was there. Or give it his best fucking try.

Shuffling sounded, then a muttered curse. Shit. Her cigarettes. She’d noticed he’d dropped them on the clothes, not having enough time to put them back in the pocket where he’d found them. Would she assume Brent had found her out? Charles hoped so.

After a few more seconds, the door clicked shut behind her, far more quietly than it had behind Brent. Charles slid out from under the bed and took a few shallow breaths, then wiped his forehead with his long cotton sleeve.

That had been close. Not that he was scared of a couple of humans. But he wasn’t any closer to finding out if Brent—or Kristen, for that matter—was harassing Alice.

And that was unacceptable.

…

He was late for dinner, arriving after everyone already had been served. Noah was mentally and emotionally in a place that Charles had never seen him go before. The vampire was always serious, although not as painfully serious as their older brother, Alex, but he’d never been so on the edge of rage and fear. Not that Charles had seen, anyway.

It was disconcerting.

“Charles, how are you?” Kristen said brightly as soon as he joined them.

Rachel no doubt hoped that her sister’s happiness was an indication that she might be interested in someone other than her fiancé, but Charles could see the glances Kristen shot at her then back at him. She had hopes, all right, but they were for Rachel. It would have been sweet, if she weren’t in such an obviously terrible position with Brent. And if he were even remotely appropriate for Rachel.

He sat in the empty seat, sandwiched between Rachel and Brent’s friend, Cole. He started in on the small talk, then a flash of pain hit as something came into sharp contact with his shin.

He stifled a yelp of surprise and shot Rachel an incredulous stare. How could she even kick him that hard? The woman was petite. It defied the laws of physics.

She gave him a meaningful look, and he remembered how he’d left her, ankle twisted—obviously, the ankle on the opposite side of him—with questions on her tongue, and more than a little heat between them. He opened his mouth—to say what, who knew—and her gaze slid to Brent.

Oh. That.

“What are we drinking, guys?” he asked. Might as well get drunk with Brent and his buddy—or get
them
drunk, anyway. Always good for some fake bonding. The idea of any kind of bonding with a snake like Brent turned his stomach, but what the hell? Couldn’t hurt to put on a show for Rachel’s sake. Even if his “help” would only continue until he was able to determine if Brent was the one making the threats.

Dealing with Brent was preferable to Rachel’s other idea—that he try to charm her sister. A beautiful woman for sure, but she lacked…something. A gutsy intensity that her sister had in spades.

“So Kristen, Brent, when’s the wedding?”

Just as he’d hoped, a moment of awkwardness settled over the table. Then Kristen bubbled into a fountain of forced enthusiasm.

“We’re not sure on the exact date yet, but we’re hoping to start getting things lined up for next year soon.” With a forced smile on her lips, she went through the places they were thinking of holding the big event, listing the little details of women who’d dreamed of being brides for far too long. Her false enthusiasm gave way to real excitement as her plans unfolded, and he felt Rachel’s glare without even looking at her. Brent was nodding along, only half listening, so he hadn’t really misstepped. Not his problem if Rachel didn’t like his form of attack.

“I’m sorry, I’ll go on all night about this stuff if you let me,” Kristen said with an embarrassed laugh. “You’re the real mystery at the table, Charles. We haven’t heard much about you from Brent. Maybe you can fill us in? What do you do for a living? With Rachel helping you out last night, I guess we can all safety assume that you’re not in computers like she is.”

“God, do you have to call it computers, Kristen? You sound like Grandma.”

Kristen waved her off. “Lecture me later.”

“No, I’m not in computers,” Charles hedged. What kind of cool, mysterious job should he have? As far as Brent knew, he was the right-hand man to the owner of a luxury boat company. They made yachts, and sold them for outrageous prices in rich circles. It had seemed like just the right company to lure Brent into letting him close. The perfect kind of company where an MBA graduate with a spotty employment record and a deep-seated desire to climb the social ladder might seek a position. The problem was, Charles didn’t know much about boats.

Hopefully none of them did, either.

“Don’t torture her, Charles,” Rachel said through gritted teeth.

“Let’s just say that I do a little of this, a little of that.”

Kristen grinned. “I’d say you were an unemployed slob, but you’re wearing Hugo Boss.”

Was he? Charles didn’t pay too much attention to what his personal shopper picked out for him, other than to make sure it looked good. Brands came and went; so did styles. Sure, he liked to keep up appearances, but he didn’t care enough to pay too close attention.

“I make a decent enough living at the little I do.” He winked at Kristen. Seeing Brent stiffen slightly out of the corner of his eye, Charles turned his attention to him. “Brent can fill you in better than I can, I’m sure. I help run one of the most prestigious yacht builders in the world.”

Rachel shot him a quick glance. No doubt she wondered what Brent could have to do with yachts that was important enough for blackmail to sway Charles, but he ignored her. Which meant she’d likely harangue him later.

“How did you two meet?” Kristen asked. “I never got a chance to ask Brent.”

“Through mutual friends, of course. You don’t get any job worth anything through the classifieds,” Charles said, in as uppity a way as he could manage. It was utter bullshit, of course. But it had been easy to pretend to run in the same circles as Brent did before introducing himself at a party the week before. The rest had been a cakewalk. Brent had no problem buying that he was so awesome he inspired a man looking to fill a high-level sales position to seek him out at a party. “Well, maybe
you
could. But I’ll bet you can get in anywhere with a smile and a flip of your hair,” he said playfully, then winked.

Kristen laughed, covering her mouth and shooting her fiancé an apologetic glance. Brent didn’t react, much, but for a bit of tension in his shoulders.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cole asked, bristling and glaring at Charles. Cole was willing to step up and defend his buddy’s fiancée. Interesting.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Cole.” Brent laughed loudly at his own joke.

Cole hadn’t been skiing with them earlier—he’d had to work remotely this morning, Kristen had said. The man was slender and tall, with a floppy haircut and dark glasses. So far, he seemed soft-spoken, but watched Kristen far too often for it to be mere coincidence.

Was he enamored with his best friend’s girl? At first glance, he didn’t seem to have anything else in common with Brent.

“How do you and Brent know each other, Cole?” Charles asked, wanting to get a better feel for the man.

“Cole and I have been buddies since elementary school,” Brent said, and Cole shot his friend an annoyed glance that Brent didn’t seem to notice. “Went to the same college. All that jazz.”

If Charles were a betting man—and he was—he’d put down some serious cash that Cole helped Brent get through college. Not that it was fair to judge the man by his glasses and slightly nerdy appearance, but there was an intelligence behind Cole’s eyes that made Charles pretty sure that his guess was right.

But Kristen seemed to have eyes only for Brent.

Not that it mattered. He wasn’t here to actually help Rachel—no matter how interesting she was. His purpose here was clear. Still, it could only help keep her under control if he played the part. So he chatted with Brent and flirted lightly with Kristen through the rest of dinner, careful to keep it casual.

Cole managed to keep his tongue through the rest of the meal, save for when the waitress spoke to him or Kristen glanced his way. But Charles didn’t miss the stare-down Cole gave him every time Kristen wasn’t looking.

“So Charles, are you single?” Kristen asked after dessert arrived, giving her sister a pointed glance. Cole stabbed his cheesecake with a zeal usually reserved for killing something.

“Kristen!” Rachel sat up straight in her seat, seeming to wake from the half daze she’d fallen into during the polite, boring conversation.

“What? It’s a reasonable question.” Kristen shrugged. “You know, Rachel’s single.”

Rachel gasped and made some truly terrifying noises, but Charles kept his focus squarely on Kristen. “You don’t say?”

“Mmm.” Kristen murmured around a bite of crème brûlée.

“Interesting.”

Rachel finally found her voice. “Shut up, Kristen,” she hissed.

“What? He’s hot. And you’re far more of a catch than you give yourself credit for.”

Charles agreed, but he wasn’t about to admit it aloud. For all sorts of reasons. Still, he couldn’t help giving Kristen a conspiratorial smile, as if he couldn’t hear Rachel squirming next to him. “As I hear it, your sister doesn’t date.”

“So? Convince her. You seem to be a convincing sort of guy.”

“All womanizers are convincing,” Cole muttered. If it hadn’t been for his vampiric hearing, Charles would have missed the retort.

“I’m afraid even my best moves have been shot down. I guess we’re destined to be merely friends.” He gave Rachel a playful punch in the arm to illustrate his point. She punched him back, much harder.

“Plus, I’m not Charles’s type,” Rachel added.

“Oh?” Kristen asked, voice casual, but there was a distinct edge in the way her eyebrow arched at him.

“Yep,” Rachel said. “He goes for long legs. Saw him watching lots of those today. None of that here. And he’s not into computer geeks.”

Rachel’s hints were doing the exact opposite of what she was going for—her sister was irritated, not charmed. Maybe Rachel wasn’t the only sister who felt a bit…protective.

Besides, it was a lie. He hadn’t had eyes for any legs since he’d happened upon Rachel’s. Annoyingly enough.

“See? Now she’s shot me down so many times, I just can’t ask anymore.” Charles clutched his chest dramatically, and her loud laugh broke Kristen’s iciness.

…

“We got nowhere,” Rachel whispered, fumbling with her key card. Dammit. She could barely get her door open—no wonder she struggled with skiing.

“We’ll do better tomorrow, I’m sure.” Charles took a step back, and the door finally blinked green at her. Without pausing long enough to think about what she was doing, she shoved the door open and grabbed his arm, and pulled him into the room with her.

The door slammed shut behind them, and she felt along the wall, trying to find the light switch.

“If you wanted me in your bed, you could have asked. Although I am digging this ‘drag me along and have your way with me thing,’” he said.

“As if.” There—hah! The switch. Light flooded the room, and relief flooded her. Silly, because the vampire could attack her just as easily in the light as in the dark, but it made her feel better anyway.

Not that he looked ready to attack. A bemused expression covered his face. And really, she wasn’t sure it was an attack that she feared from him now. At least, not the suck-her-blood kind of attack.

“I mean, it’s not that I couldn’t get into the scenario you seem to have in mind. Would you like to club me over the head, too, before you drag me the rest of the way to your bed?”

She chose to ignore that. “I can’t believe how charming you
aren’t.
We made no progress tonight.”

“First, I’m quite charming. I keep telling you how charming I am, so I’m not sure why you keep forgetting. Brent was practically preening for me, he wants the job so badly. Second, I laid groundwork tonight. Your sister thinks I’m charming and mysterious and a good friend for rescuing you from that snowbank.”

She stopped pacing, still facing away from him, and said, “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Saving damsels in distress is all in a day’s work for your friendly local vampire.”

She turned to face him. “Oh my God, are you messing up Spider-Man quotes to impress me or something?”

“Improvising, not messing up. And impressing you isn’t my goal.” A frown creased his lips as if something about his rejoinder bothered him. “Anyway, I couldn’t very well drag Brent off for a night of gallivanting so quickly. Got to build a tiny bit of trust there, or he’ll never let his guard down around me enough to do anything incriminating.”

Crap. He was right. It was just so frustrating to wait. It felt like a clock was ticking over her head, and when it chimed midnight her sister’s future would be locked in and irreversible. Melodramatic? Probably. But knowing that didn’t change the way she felt. “It’s fine. Sorry I’m a little bit—”