Honor Calls (2 page)

Michaela watched the bewilderment on his face fade and be replaced by something…

Dangerous, she thought, sensing his attraction to her, sensing the want in him that could make him risky. Somehow that wasn’t enough to deter her from fulfilling his challenge. She would make him believe.

When he holstered his weapon, she brushed past him, trying to ignore her response. She wasn’t usually the suit-and-tie type, not to mention that he was older than the other men who’d been in her life.

Of course, that was because dead or gone was her typical type. Not old. Especially since old was something she would never become.

Ignoring her contradictory emotions, she put a sexy roll in her walk as she moved toward the Blood Bank. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that he was totally buying into her challenge. A thrill of anticipation shot through her.

She smiled, pleased that he seemed intrigued, and headed straight to the bouncer. The big man glared at her until she allowed a hint of her gleaming gaze to emerge. He hesitated, maybe sensing the difference in her power, but then she repeated the action and added a bit of fang.

The bouncer relented and, with a broad sweep of his arm, lifted the red velvet rope for her and the FBI agent. As they slipped beneath the boundary, the bouncer emitted a low growl, as if to warn her that the two of them were not fully welcome.

She ignored him and plowed forward, the FBI agent close to her back. After they entered and moved out of hearing of the bouncer, he leaned forward and asked, “Bouncer is a vampire?”

His tone was laced with disbelief, but she nodded as she navigated through the crowd with him nearly plastered to her back. The bar was full tonight, packed with dozens of human Goth and wannabe vampire types as well as the real deal. Colored spotlights skittered unevenly over the crowd. On the small stage at the far end of the club, glaring light illuminated a band playing loudly and aggressively, half singing half screaming indeterminate lyrics. The strong thumping bass and heavy drumbeats pulsed across the club and incited those on the dance floor to thrash and jump in rhythm.

The lights and noise bothered her senses. She hurried to the back of the club where it was quieter and dimmer, creating a feeling of false intimacy. The area was crowded, but in the farthest corner was an empty table for two.

She sat down with her back to the wall, not wanting any surprises. Unexpectedly, he plopped down right beside her rather than across from her.

When she arched a brow in question, he shrugged and said, “Don’t want to have to watch my back either.”

Understandable and yet provoking.

His physical presence was difficult to ignore, and his dark brown eyes seemed fathomless in the dim light.

She hoped he would not prove as fascinating as he appeared.

“So you expect me to believe the bouncer was a vampire and that there are other ones here as well?” he said, examining the interior of the club.

There were definitely vampires present. She sensed the push of their undead force, but before she got into proving it, she wanted him to buy her a drink. She was low on cash and most men disappeared once they discovered the truth around them.

The truth about her.

Raising her hand, she signaled a waitress.

When the young woman arrived, Michaela said, “Cuervo shooter.”

Slipping a glance at her companion, she realized he was checking out the waitress, in a vamp way, not that she expected him to pick up on the signs so quickly. She shook her head.

He understood and ordered a shooter as well.

The waitress hesitated and Michaela explained, “You’re new. You’ve got to pay up front.”

He snorted in disgust, but quickly dug into his pocket, peeled off a twenty from a moderate wad of cash and tossed the bill on the scarred black Formica table. The waitress immediately scooped up the money and walked away to place their orders.

“Must get nice clientele in here,” he said as he tucked his money into his pocket. The motion pulled his suit jacket back, exposing the butt of his gun. At an adjacent table, one of the patrons noticed the weapon and quickly scurried away.

Jesus wondered why the man felt compelled to run. In his line of business, it was an obvious sign of guilt, but in here….

For all the patrons’ Goth rebelliousness, they were quite uniform in their manner of dress, lots of black, from the leather and jeans to their hair.

“You said you’d make me truly believe,” he reminded his companion just as the waitress came to the table with their drinks.

The waitress placed the lime, saltshaker and shots of Cuervo on the table. His companion bit into the lime, skipped the salt and then downed the tequila in one gulp before ordering another.

“Thirsty?” he asked as he paid in advance once again.

“Once guys see how things are, most of my dates don’t last beyond the first drink.” She fidgeted with the empty shot glass.

“Didn’t realize that buying you a drink made this a date,” he said, perplexed by her, by the self-assurance on the surface that seemed to hide a well of vulnerability.

“Not your usual type, I suspect,” she said and fully faced him.

Not his type?

He wondered about that as he sipped his shot of tequila and studied her. Her dark, nearly black hair fell in choppy layers against her roundish face. Cerulean-blue eyes bore an exotic slant and hinted at extreme intelligence, while pale, creamy skin appeared to be as soft as satin sheets.

The black leather jacket she wore fit tight against her body, accentuating both her slimness and slightness of stature, but the tank top beneath the jacket exposed the lushness of her curves.

He imagined exploring those curves. Raising that lean, strong body against his and slipping within.

His type, he thought, fighting back his body’s response. Now that they were up close, he guessed her to be at least a decade younger than his thirty-eight years.

“Don’t have a type and I’m not the kind to drink and run,” he said, taking another sip of the Cuervo to quell the desire awakening within him.

She laughed, the tone of her merriment rich and uninhibited. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself that kind of freedom, but she clearly was not one to hold back.

That only intrigued him more, especially when she challenged him with, “You may be the kind to run after you see what goes on in here.”

Elegantly raising her hand, she gestured to the far corners of the club, close to where they sat. He could barely make out the shadows of people engaged in various activities.

Leaning close to him, she said in a hushed tone, “Look carefully if you dare.”

Her warm breath against the base of his neck was sweet. He imagined the kiss of that breath elsewhere and decided it warranted the risk.

“I dare.”

He followed the surprisingly long line of her index finger, which pointed to a doorway guarded by a muscular bouncer. He was another very pale man who exuded a power that Jesus could feel even across the distance separating them.

Yet one more vampire? he wondered before turning his attention to the door.

In the distant corners, so dark they were almost devoid of light, he finally recognized the activity going on.

Sexual, he thought as he watched one woman writhing against someone, her legs wrapped around a waist. Heat raced through him as he imagined his companion riding him like that, but he quickly tamped down the thought.

Beside that couple was another in an intimate embrace. The woman straddled a man’s thigh, grinding against it, clearly seeking satisfaction. Her companion had one hand tangled in her long blond tresses. Before Jesus’ eyes the man pulled the woman’s head back, exposing the long line of her neck. There was a familiar weirdly bright blue-green gleam in the man’s gaze and a flash of white fang before the man buried his face against the woman’s throat.

Jesus imagined he could hear her sharp gasp of surprise. He saw the jerk of her body, confirming that he wasn’t imagining the attack. When the man shifted his head for the barest of seconds, a dark line of blood became visible against the woman’s skin.

Instinctively Jesus began to rise, determined to interrupt the assault, but his companion laid a hand on his arm.

“Don’t get involved. She came here for that and the vampire knows the rules.”

Vampires did not exist and what he had seen so far that night could be explained by….

He didn’t know what would explain it, but surely there was a rational reason somewhere.

“The rules?” he asked, sitting back down and picking up his shot glass. He hoped her answer would provide a more plausible explanation for what he had just seen.

“No siring the humans in public. I’m even surprised he put the bite on her like that. Foley—”

“Foley?” He finally downed his shot, wincing as the heat burned down his throat.

“Foley’s the owner of this place. He usually has a ‘no public biting’ policy,” she replied easily, but a furrow of worry was etched in the middle of her forehead.

“Not good that they’re getting so bold,” she added.

The waitress came over at that moment with their next round of drinks and he placed another order.

“Not running?” she asked as she picked up the wedge of lime.

“Not sure. But before I make up my mind…Who are you?” He dragged the shot glass close and slowly shifted it between his hands.

She wiped the lime juice from her hands against her jeans and then introduced herself. “Michaela Ramirez.”

He eyeballed her hand, then shifted his gaze back to her face as he took her hand in his much larger one. “Jesus Hernandez.”

Raking her gaze over his attire, she said, “Special Agent Hernandez?”

“Assistant Director in Charge,” he corrected.

“The boss man.”

It explained the air of power about him and confirmed what Michaela had already suspected—he was the kind of man who knew how to take care of himself. But it also meant he was the kind of man who would not understand the mission to which she had dedicated her life, and her eventual death.

He played by the rules. Her existence defied such constraints.

Arching a brow upward, he asked, “And what is it that you do? You know, your job when you’re not busy staking the undead.”

She didn’t have an answer she thought he would accept, so she took her time, perusing him once again.

His suit was expensive and well tailored to his big muscular body. Despite his age, thick dark brown hair showed not one hint of gray. The few wrinkles on his face were the smile lines at the edges of his very sensual mouth and dark brown eyes.

Eyes that twinkled with amusement at her inspection, at her stalling tactic.

Surprising.

“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” she asked, wanting to shift the focus back to him.

“Maybe starting to believe.”

He downed his shot of tequila just as the waitress brought the third round.

When she reached for the lime and shot glass, he covered her hand with his deliciously warm one. His palm was rough against the back of her hand. She imagined that roughness rubbing other parts of her body and a hot flush erupted within her, dampening the spot between her legs.

“Sure you can handle another? You’re kind of…small,” he said, dragging his gaze over her figure.

His look lingered at her breasts, yanking a more obvious response from her. Her nipples beaded into tight points, which only convinced her that it had been way too long since she had last satisfied herself.

Way too long, she thought as she turned her hand and grasped his, running her fingers along the fine hairs on the back of his wrist. She stroked his bare skin, edging beneath the cuff of his shirt.

“You’d be surprised at how much I can handle.” She grinned when she felt the tremor beneath her fingers.

Jesus held his breath as her simple touch jerked his body to life. It had been so long since he had done this little dance with a woman. He wanted to confirm that he wasn’t misreading the signals.

“Just need to make sure you know what
you’re
doing in a place like this,” he said and half turned in his chair to be certain that he didn’t miss a millisecond of her reaction.

“What I’m doing?” She looked down to where her hand still stroked the sensitive skin at his wrist.

He took her question as an invitation and grasped her hand in his. He noticed the slight chill of her skin and wondered at the reason for it, but he thrust aside the niggle of concern.

“Nervous?” he asked, narrowing his eyes to read her reaction. If anything, she’d been assured, strong and complex so far. He was anticipating experiencing more of the same from her.

“Just…cold,” she answered and twined her fingers with his. “As for where this is going…Are
you
sure you’re ready to handle all of this and more?”

Jesus shot a look around the club and then back at her. She seemed so much a part of this place and yet removed from it. That might explain the hint of loneliness he had sensed in her.

“If the ‘and more’ involves the two of us alone together somewhere, I’m ready.”

Shaking her head, she smiled, but there was no mistaking the sadness in her voice as she said, “You may be sorry you said that.”

He cupped her face with his free hand and explored the soft skin of her cheek. He shifted his thumb downward over her full lips. Her warm sweet breath exploded against his finger, as if she was shocked by the intimacy of his touch.

“If I promise not to be sorry, can you do the same?”

She sucked in a shaky breath and he saw how her pupils widened with desire. Against the pad of his thumb, her lips quivered before she worried her bottom lip with her perfectly white teeth.

Perfectly white
fangless
teeth. The thought brought some relief that he wasn’t about to engage one of the supposed undead in what he hoped to be some very satisfying sex.

“Well?” he prompted, her delay both worrisome and frustrating.

She released her bottom lip and finally said, “I won’t be sorry.”