Chapter Thirteen – Jack #2
“My humans got our silver out—and it turns out the land’s worth was negligible.
The mine was totally tapped decades ago.
Its only apparent worth was as a bunker to Rosalie, which your thrilling explosions ruined.
” She shifted, pushing one shoulder forward.
“Plus, they sensed my hesitation and offered double.”
I groaned. “If the land’s worth nothing to you, why is it worth double to them?”
“I don’t care.”
“Goddamn it, Maya, not everything’s about money.”
“Yes it is, Jack. You may not realize it now, but forever is a long time. And now that your lawyer-friend has gone flitting off to God-knows-where with your werewolf ex-boss, I cannot be sure that Fleur de Lis is going to honor the contract for their club. They haven’t even started construction.”
I had no doubt Mark had made the contract bulletproof. He was thorough—she was just trying to save face.
“Cancel the sale.”
“Why? If whatever it is that’s out there is so awful, why would we want to keep it?”
“Because a weapon in the hand is worth more than two in the bush.”
“It’s impossible. The cash has already been wired. Tomorrow night’s merely formality—the exchange of the deed itself.”
I rocked back on my heels. “Just how much do you know about the Rojo anyhow?”
“They’re upper level dealers. They don’t run product personally—but they’re where the product comes from.”
I was going to ask what ‘product’ was, then decided I didn’t want to know. “And why would they want a creepy-ass hungry thing in the ground?”
“I’m unsure.”
“Can you stall until we figure it out?”
“Absolutely not.” She shook her head, then regained confidence. “And why would I? They’re giving us money, Jack—well, me, money. I don’t need to care about anything past that.”
“How long did Rosalie own that land?” I asked, staring her down.
Maya inhaled to think. “Fifty years. Maybe more.”
“Strange how they didn’t want to buy it until she’d died.”
“Strange, how her death coincided with the obliteration of literally anything of worth upon it,” she countered.
“Except for whatever it is they’re paying you double for. The stunning vistas—of nothing? Or maybe just the cool night air?”
Maya set her shoulders. “I’ve had enough of suppositions for one night. Can I count on you tomorrow or not?”
I paused. Dark Ink needed me—and so did Paco, who’d be waking up sometime later that night.
“Might I note that if they think we’re divided you might meet a bad end—and your tattoo studio become a money laundering front?”
I’d give even odds on Maya doing that to me as well, if she thought she could get away with it. “Well when you put it like that,” I said. “If only to meet our new monster owning overlords in person.”
“And who wouldn’t want to?” she asked, sarcastic and gracious both at once. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow. But after that—”
“Nothing to do with me, blah-blah-blah, deal.” She waved her hand in the air between us as if slapping.
I’d have had her shake on it, but I knew that promises meant nothing to her. I’d just have to keep setting boundaries for her to merrily skip over, or set on fire and push through. “See you then,” I said, and walked off.
I went by Dark Ink and worked the rest of my shift, catching one of Nikki’s friends who wanted a cover-up on an arm band he’d gotten done in prison.
It required me pounding in a lot of solid black which the guy took like a champ, sitting like a rock even on the soft spots inside near the armpit.
I didn’t know the name of the gang we were hiding with my flying vampire bat cuff—his choice of artwork, not mine, though we both found it amusing—but it didn’t matter.
Once you were a member of the Pack, the only way out was to die.
After that, Mattie came in with a lead on two new artists, and wanted to bring them by that day for interviews. I told him that was fine, but that I couldn’t be there, prior obligations and all that—with my coffin—but that I trusted his judgement because it was true.
Then I drove home with about twenty minutes to spare. Vegas didn’t have huge commuter problems, but with so many tourists renting sportscars and drinking, accidents could easily ruin my morning drive. Today I was lucky and came home right on time.
Luna had locked the door. I knew I’d find her sleeping on the couch, so I tried to be careful, opening it quietly and pushing it slowly in, which was good because it thudded against her thigh.
She was sleeping on the floor in a tangle of couch cushions and sheets, rather like a dog—and the door nudging her woke her.
“Master,” she said, pushing herself up.
“Jack,” I corrected her.
She threw her arms around my knees. Her eyes were red with not enough sleep—and possibly crying. “I thought you were dead.”
“Why?”
“You went off with a Faithful! How could I not assume the worst?” she said, and started crying again.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I walked forward, pushing her back so that I could close the door. “I survived. Why didn’t you sleep on the couch?”
She didn’t answer me, she just kept sobbing. I hovered over her, unsure what to do next, with the lingering feeling that I was still getting played—until she hiccupped, and kept cry-hiccupping, becoming even more pathetic.
Up until now, the saucy sexy insane girl I knew seemed to have had standards, whereas the woman currently clinging to my legs was a mess.
I sighed—I only had fifteen minutes left.
I leaned over and scooped her and everything she was surrounded with up, carrying her easily to the couch, where I carefully dropped her down.
I expected her to hold on, to use our proximity as an excuse for closeness, but once on the couch she turned away.
“I’m sorry for scaring you,” I said.
“Why? It’s not like you care. It’s not like anyone really does.”
“Luna, if you’re asking for affection from me—you’d be better off asking Sugar. Or a wall. Go find a real man to love you somewhere.”
“I don’t want affection,” she said, setting up to pat the couch cushions roughly back into shape. “I just want to be somebody’s slave. And have that person actually deserve me. For them to use me. Like I was meant to be used. It’s what I’m good at.” She was punching pillows in lieu of punching me.
“That’s not ever going to be me, either.”
“Why? Because of your stupid pride? Stupid pride’s going to get you killed, Jack.” I glared at her, as she went on. “Don’t look at me like that—not by me. By someone like that girl you ran off with, without thinking, without backup.”
I shook my head. “Well, you may have a point there. But that burden is mine alone.”
“Who else is going to turn me if you die?”
I squatted on my heels so our heads were even. “Who else is going to turn you now? Because it won’t be me.”
She dragged the sheets up to her chest, fat tears leaking down her cheeks. “I did everything for Rosalie. And you—just Dark Ink—just a secretary?” she sputtered.
“I’m sorry I don’t know anyone for you to kill. Maybe you can patch things up with Maya.”
The glare she gave me let me know what she thought about that.
“I saw her tonight. She’s not always evil.”
“She’s not evil enough,” Luna complained. “She thinks she’s smarter than she is. She’ll get in over her head someday.”
On that, we agreed. “What do you know about the Sangre Rojo?”
She swiped the sheet across her eyes and shook her head.
“Bad news. Rosalie wouldn’t deal with them.
Said they were too dangerous—too violent.
And for Rosalie, that was saying something.
” Luna blotted her nose with the back of her hand.
“And they’ve got a weird caste system. All their vampires are men.
All their bloodslaves are women. Very pretty girls though. I met one, once.”
I rocked back to standing. “Good to know. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She gave me a look both hopeless and helpless, the look of a castaway seeing a ship pass by too far to see, and in that moment I was tempted, truly tempted, to turn her, just because she desired it so much.
But I needed to go back and lay down with the person I’d already turned, first. One experiment at a time.
It wasn’t until I was laying against Paco’s back that I realized I’d never told her Samantha was a Faithful—and that the weapon she had was clearly meant to be used against one.
Then the dawn claimed me.