The Thief

  For all of the violent things Ricardo had wrought on others, for the many deaths he had caused, directly or indirectly, for the rigid restrictions he had put on her, there was plenty to justify this terrible, lonely, painful demise.

  Yet as she stared at the decayed remains of the face she had known all her life, she thought not of all the bad things. She remembered the vases of flowers on their mother's birthday: Though she was before the body of the man, she thought of the soul of the child.

  She would mourn the latter, for that was the one she had the most in common with: all those hard, early years of poverty that had been the kiln to Ricardo's ambitions had served the same purpose for her. They had been dirty and hungry together, mocked in the street as they begged, beaten, and chased away.

  As emotion overcame her, there was a temptation to fall apart. To sink to her knees and wail. To throw her hands up in a scared defeat and return to safety back in South America.

  This was what she had come here for, however. A slate wiped clean--and Eduardo was dead, too. She knew that without a doubt. If someone had done this to Ricardo, then the other had been killed as well.

  Vitoria had wanted a revolution. So she needed to be able to stomach the bloodshed.

  As she forced herself to go back upstairs, she tripped at the first step--but upon none of the others. Up at the top, she cleared her throat a couple of times and breathed through her nose. For some reason, she wanted the smell out of her nostrils before she went outside, as if that would dim the memories. Or perhaps she was trying to catch her breath. Or...

  She couldn't think straight. But she needed to start doing that immediately.

  Striding to the door that was still only slightly ajar, she said roughly, "Nothing."

  Outside, Streeter pivoted around, his exhale of cigarette smoke floating up to the brightening sky. "No?"

  She made what she hoped was a negatory sound and closed things up behind her. Before she put herself once more in her snowshoes, she checked to make sure the locking mechanism had engaged.

  "So this was a waste of time," he muttered.

  "Yes. It was."

  If he had known her better, or been paying closer attention, he might have noticed her voice was hoarse. And her hands were shaking. And she was breathing hard. But he was too self-involved, and that was perfect.

  Clipping herself back into the snowshoes, Vitoria set off once again, at a faster pace than before.

  She had no choice but to leave the bodies, even that of her brother. It was better for her to pretend she knew nothing and be sought out by law enforcement if things ever came to that. Which would be a very long while, if at all. This outpost was totally secluded and secure, and she and Streeter's tracks would be covered by snow soon enough--

  "I'm sorry."

  Vitoria looked over her shoulder without breaking stride. "For what."

  "Bein' wrong. Wastin' your time."

  Now she lost her rhythm. "It's okay. Do not worry yourself about it. We all make mistakes."

  "Thanks, boss."

  "You are welcome, Streeter."

  As she continued on, she tried to distract herself with plans to continue following up with more of those names in Eduardo's journal. But it was hard. Ricardo's throat had been torn open, for godsakes.

  What kind of animal did that?

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Sometime after sunrise, Jane had her face in a pillow. Her naked body was flat on the mattress, and her legs were spread, and there was good reason for both. A huge weight was on top of her, moving, penetrating, the rhythm like waves in the ocean at high tide. Her hands were held down, big palms pressing on them, keeping her in place. Fangs, sharp and delicious, were sunk into her shoulder, the bite deep.

  How Vishous managed to be in all those places at once was something to ponder--at a different damn time.

  Bumping her butt against him signaled what she wanted and he was right on it, releasing his fangs, and lifting his weight off her so that she could get up on all fours. As soon as she was set like a table, V was back on her, his body so much bigger that he became a cage around her, one arm planted next to her, the other coming under her torso, between her breasts. His gloved hand locked on her collarbone and she got herself good and braced.

  The pistoning force was so great that without his hold on her, she would have been thrown into the headboard--but fortunately, her male was strong enough to keep the pace and her in one place.

  Holy hell, they were probably waking Butch and Marissa up with the bed banging like this.

  Something to apologize for later.

  Jane wasn't going to waste a moment of time on anything but what they were doing. There was just such joy in giving herself up to the experience, laying down her inclination to dictate, anticipate, plan, and execute--and letting go. The trust she had in V was the conduit; the love was the connection. And there was also the knowledge that, at least when it came to her, he was willing to do fair turnaround. He would give himself to her in any way she asked or wanted--

  An orgasm lightning'd through her, hitting her sex like the crack of a whip, and as if he had been waiting for that, V's pelvis clapped forward once, twice...three times. After that, it was all inside of her, his erection kicking as he filled her up.

  Then it was the great collapse.

  When her eyes were able to focus, she looked at the clock. 8:38 a.m.

  "You are the best alarm clock in the world," she said.

  V's laugh was low and a little evil. "No hitting my snooze button, huh."

  "Nope."

  "Pity."

  They rolled over and spooned, and then she had to motivate. "So here's the plan," she said. "I go and do this check-in at Assail's, and then I'm back for the rest of the day. Ehlena's covering at the clinic, and Manny and I are on at nightfall."

  "I like this new schedule."

  "Me, too. And I wouldn't be going anywhere now if we weren't running those checks on him still."

  She twisted around and kissed Vishous, and then slid out from his arms. Heading for the shower, she was smiling, and she made a point of turning on the bathroom light. There, in the mirror, was the happiest version of herself she had seen for a long while, and she wanted to enjoy the view.

  "I'm going to meet Payne in a half hour," V said from the bed.

  Jane leaned back out into the bedroom. "You are?"

  "Yeah." He put his arms behind his head and crossed his legs at the ankles. "You know, to spar. In the gym."

  "You're going to talk to her about your mom, huh."

  His eyes shifted away. "We figured if we did it this time of day now, we could have some privacy."

  "I think it's a really good idea."

  "Mary's--you know, Mary's going to be there."

  Jane popped her brows. "Really?"

  "I was the one who suggested it."

  Jane smiled some more and then paused to appreciate the sight of Vishous's enormous, naked body, lying on that messy bed like he was a lion in the sun.

  Those diamond eyes swung back around to her. "Take a picture," he drawled, "it'll last longer--and you can keep it in your pocket while you're gone, to remember me."

  "You're pretty unforgettable."

  "You'll make me blush." He eased onto his side. "Do go on."

  His sex lay on his thigh, shameless, half-erect, and as she looked at it, the thing hardened even more.

  V slipped his hand down and palmed himself. "Can I get you all messy again as soon as you're out of the shower?"

  "You are--"

  "Hungry still. I have a couple of months to make up for, you know." Stroke up. Stroke down. "Plus I like the idea of you out in the world with me in your panties."

  Jane laughed. "How about you do my back in the shower?"

  "I thought you'd never ask," he said as he jumped out of bed. "We have enough time for me to do your front, too, if we're quick about it, true?"

  * * *

  --

  Fort
y-five minutes later, Sola was pacing around Assail's kitchen. Doc Jane, as folks called her, had arrived just a little late, the woman apologizing profusely as she came in through the garage door.

  Doctor and patient were currently in the vast living area, their soft voices unintelligible. Sola had wanted to be in there with them, but she thought it was important for the two to have a little privacy. Plus she didn't trust herself not to break down. It seemed inconceivable that Assail would do anything other than continue to improve, get stronger every day, be here next week and the month after and the year after that.

  She could swear he was becoming better by the moment. The trouble was, feelings were a response to reality. They didn't dictate it--

  As the door up from the cellar opened, Ehric and Evale filed in. The two brothers were half-asleep, their hair sticking up in exactly the same way, as if not only did they look alike, but they slept the same.

  "Anything?" Ehric asked as he went over and sat at the table.

  "Not yet."

  "Your grandmother is still sleeping," he said as he rubbed his face. "We were very quiet."

  "I'm glad." Sola paused by the stove. "I worry she's on her feet too much, although good luck trying to get her to lie down."

  "We will ensure her list of groceries is filled," Ehric murmured. "At nightfall, and not before."

  "Good plan."

  As Sola resumed pacing in her socks, Evale started going through the cupboards.

  "Can I help you?" she offered, even though it wasn't her kitchen. And she wasn't a cook. And she didn't know shit about anything at the moment.

  "I am looking for the peppers."

  "The stuffed ones? They're in the fridge."

  "No, the little ones--ah, yes. Here."

  The guy took a package over to the counter, and she didn't pay much attention until he started to put something in his mouth--

  "No!" she barked, throwing her hands out. "Stop!"

  Assail's cousin froze with a ghost pepper just about to drop in a piehole that would never be the same. "What's wrong?"

  "Put that down and wash your hands! That'll make you sick!"

  He frowned and regarded the shriveled piece of hotter-than-evil. "Are you certain?"

  "It's a ghost pepper--you want to handle them carefully. They'll burn you from the inside out."

  "I had them last night." He popped the thing into his mouth and started chewing. "I like them."

  Sola couldn't move for a moment. But then she exploded for the refrigerator, grabbing a carton of whole milk and diving for a glass in the cabinet. There was a delay between when the peppers were taken on a oner like that, and if she could just get him to spit the stuff out and start rinsing with the milk, they might not give Doc Jane another patient to treat--

  Sola wheeled around only to go statue.

  Evale was looking at her with pleasant curiosity as he chewed--like he couldn't understand what she was getting on about, but he liked and respected her enough to give her space to be weird. And then he put a second into his hopper.

  "Hit me," Ehric said from where he was sitting.

  In response, Evale pivoted and tossed a ghost pepper across the room, tagging his brother right in the mouth.

  Sola stood there with the glass of milk and played an ocular tennis match between the pair of apparently-indestructibles.

  "Let me see those," she said, holding her hand out. "No, I don't want to touch one, I want to see the package."

  Maybe she was confused--nope. As she got a close look at the label on the cellophane bag, it had all the appropriate warnings on it. Except maybe they were duds, like ammo that had failed or something?

  A quick sniff and she found they smelled as awful as they should. Still, she took one out with her fingertips and extended her tongue. She knew better than to do a test with a full-on chew--and if she hadn't needed a distraction, she wouldn't have bothered with the verifying.

  She took a lick. And waited--

  "Oh, my God!" Bending down, she coughed. "How in the world--"

  "Are you finished with them?"

  As Evale put out his hand, she gave the package back and hit the milk. And while she was trying to calm down all the HOLYSHIT on the tip of her tongue, he and Ehric proceeded to dust the peppers one by one.

  And then they snagged the other package in the cupboard.

  "I do not understand how you guys can--"

  Doc Jane and Assail came into the kitchen, and Sola tried to read their expressions.

  "Cousin," Ehric said, "would you care for a--"

  "No, no." Sola stepped in between the two. "He's good without the ghost peppers. Right? You're good. Yup, maybe later, thanks."

  "What are you guys eating?" Doc Jane asked offhandedly.

  "These?" Evale showed the package. "They're quite delightful."

  Doc Jane nodded. "Vishous loves those. Eats them like candy."

  Sola could only shake her head. "You guys are amazing."

  Then she refocused and met Assail's eyes, searching for an answer. When he gave her a wink, she wasn't sure what that meant.

  "Well, I'll head out now." The doctor put a backpack on. "Manny will be here after nightfall, and I think we'll have Ghisele come out to--ah, help my partner with the exam."

  Abruptly, a pounding anxiety rumbled through Sola, the storm of bad energy rattling her so badly, she forgot the burn that was still on her tongue.

  "I'll walk you out, Doc Jane," she said as she headed for the rear door.

  "No--"

  "Not that way--"

  "Garage--"

  The three men all spoke at the same time, with greater urgency than she'd thrown at the Great Ghost Pepper Non-Incident.

  "Sorry," she said. Security concerns, of course.

  Doc Jane put an arm around her. "Let's go this way."

  As they headed off, Sola was aware of Assail staring after them, his moonlight eyes intense. But then his cousins were talking to him, and he stayed back in the kitchen.

  Out in the garage, Jane preempted any questions. "He's doing really well," the doctor said. "I think you can start to relax a little."

  Sola frowned. "But what about the cancer? It's still in his brain, isn't it? I mean, how can you say I should start to relax?"

  Doc Jane almost caught her reaction. Almost. But that subtle recoil and the widening of the eyes were the kind of things that, when someone was scared to death about their loved one's future and reading every single fucking nuance about the person who knew the situation best, were as obvious as a Broadway stage actor's tap-dance and arm-circle routine.

  The other woman cleared her throat. "Listen, I think you need to talk to Assail."

  "You're his doctor."

  "Please, go speak to him."

  "About his cancer."

  Doc Jane's forest green eyes shifted ever so slightly to the left. "Yes."

  "Okay. I will."

  Sola spoke the words with a defiance that was maybe unwarranted, but she wasn't going to worry about that as she turned away and marched back into the house. As she came into kitchen, the three men looked over at her.

  "You mind if we go talk?" she said as she walked by Assail.

  She didn't wait for him. And he did follow her, out into the hall that led to his office and the stairwell to the second floor.

  Spinning around, she had to remind herself that whatever might be going on, he had just been critically ill and hospitalized for it.

  "You want to tell me what the hell's going on," she demanded in a low voice.

  Assail's handsome-as-sin face was remote. "About what, pray tell."

  Sola crossed her arms over her chest. In the back of her mind, she wondered whether she was going too far--but no, her instincts told her things were simply not adding up.

  "Your doctor won't tell me about your cancer. And I have a feeling that's because you don't have it."

  THIRTY-FIVE

  As Marisol stood before him as if she were about to e
nter into a bar fight--and win it--Assail felt an exhaustion that had nothing to do with his recovery. Indeed, this was the problem with lying to intimates, he thought. The untruths always came home to roost and never in a way that justified the falsity, however small or large it had been.

  Because, in fact, there was never a justification to lie to someone who loved you.

  "Do you have cancer or don't you," his female demanded.

  Assail wished he'd had more time. But for what? As if that would change this part of things?

  "Come," he said, taking her elbow. "I should like some privacy."

  She jerked herself free of his hold, but she did go into his office with him. And as he shut the door, she went over to the windows that ran from ceiling to floor.

  "Please do not open the drapes," he said as she reached out.

  "Why. Don't like the light of day?"

  "No, I do not."

  "So?" She turned around. "You want to tell me what's really going on here?"

  Assail lowered himself into the padded chair that was opposite all of his computers. As he propped his chin up with his fist, he stared across at her. "I am sorry you were deceived by my cousins."

  She blinked, as if taking a moment to absorb the news. "So you're not terminal."

  "I was. But I am no longer."

  Her laugh was short and harsh. "I don't know whether to be relieved--or get my grandmother and take her back to Miami right now."

  "I am sorry they chose not to be honest."

  Marisol jabbed a finger at him. "Don't get it twisted. They may have started it, but you kept the lie going."

  "You are correct."

  When he didn't go any further, she crossed her arms again. "I'm waiting. And I want to know everything, whatever it is."

  As he scrambled in his empty head to find words that made sense, he couldn't decide what was worse. Baring his weakness before her, or knowing, in the depths of his dark heart, that the real secret was one he could never share with her: He could not tell her what he was. As a rule, his species did not reveal themselves to humans--and in the very rare, extremely rare, case where that operating principle was violated, if the human somehow was able to accept things, they had to leave their life behind and find their way within the vampire world.