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  “Has he killed anyone?” she asked.

  Her brother scowled. “No, he’s just bloodsucking vermin, like the rest of them.”

  Stephanie ignored the racist slur because the case had grabbed her attention.

  Kyle turned to Patrick. “Remember that little vampire punk, Kelso, who gave you lip when we questioned him about Simons?”

  Her senses snapped into alertness at the mention of Kelso.

  “Sure do,” Patrick replied.

  “Well, he’s hanging with Polasky right now.”

  Patrick grinned. “Payback time.”

  A cold knot clenched her stomach. “Do you mean Jason Kelso, the dhampir?” she questioned automatically.

  “Some dhampirs are just as bad as vampires,” Kyle retorted as his eyes narrowed. “What do you know about Kelso?”

  The knot tightened painfully and she felt angry heat pool in her face. Now was not the time to get into it with Kyle, though. Her friend was in trouble. “I watch the news,” she returned curtly, and directed her question at Patrick. “What do you plan on doing to him?”

  Patrick jabbed the air between them with a thick finger. “Teach that bloodsucker not to mess with law enforcement.”

  Her composure snapped. A fireball of anger and dread blazed through her. “Why can’t you keep it clean? They have rights, too!” The sudden pressure at her fingertips made her ball her hands into fists. Her nails dug deep into her palms but she ignored the discomfort.

  “Mind your own business, Stephanie,” Patrick snapped and stormed out of the kitchen.

  She turned her glare on Kyle. “It’s unethical, damn it!”

  He swallowed the last piece of his dessert before pushing the dish away. “I don’t get you, Stephanie…but maybe if you had a nice guy in your life like Amanda, you wouldn’t be so obsessed with these goddamn vampires and what we do with them.” With that, he left the room.

  Stephanie turned away and forced down the primal sound that almost choked her. How could she be related to such uncivilized jerks? Tears pricked her eyes and threatened to flow but she blinked them back.

  Jason Kelso was a vampire rights activist. He was ardent and vocal, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Three years ago, he’d been a complete stranger in a bar who’d listened to her inebriated description of her bizarre symptoms, and suggested she get a DNA test. He’d given her the address of a private clinic located in a nondescript building. The doctor had been discreet and when she returned to see him about the results, he’d explained everything in detail. The news was shocking at first, but it finally put her mind at rest. She wasn’t ill, wasn’t dying. Jason never asked her about it, though she suspected he knew.

  He was a special friend and she owed him as far as she was concerned. Unfortunately, the man disliked modern technology so much he didn’t own a mobile. She shook her head. How was she supposed to warn him?

  Stephanie glanced down at her hands. The nails hadn’t retracted yet. No surprise, she was so outraged she could hardly see straight. She couldn’t stay any longer, not in her present state and certainly not with Jason in danger. Two months ago, Patrick had been investigated for shooting a vampire in the shoulder. He’d claimed self-defense and was released with no charges for lack of evidence. She’d read the short newspaper story about it. The young vampire hadn’t even been armed. A bounty hunter’s job was to arrest fugitives and bring them to the authorities unharmed, a fact her brothers ignored on a regular basis.

  Locating her handbag, she used her mobile to pull up a Google map of the address Kyle had mentioned. She estimated it would take her about thirty minutes to get there. Stephanie forced a smile on her face and said her goodbyes to the rest of her family after feeding them one of her emergency escape excuses. Luckily, they didn’t seem to have noticed the raised voices. But she didn’t miss the shadow of concern in her mother’s eyes before she left.

  In the car, Stephanie gripped the steering wheel and drew in a few long breaths before pulling into the street, yet anger still clawed at her. Her brothers were making a detour to get the dogs, so she’d be able to beat them to the address. She got onto route 36 and headed straight for 85 South, toward Denver. Her foot pressed down on the gas pedal and she moved into the left lane. The sunset had left a bright splash of copper in the sky. Traffic was moving well. At 9:15, she exited at Hampden Avenue and took a few side streets until she reached Lafayette. Her heart rate picked up as she neared the location. It was a lovely tree-lined street with large, charming houses and manicured lawns. It seemed odd that a fugitive would be hiding out in such a well-to-do neighborhood.

  Recalling there was someone staking out the place, she eased into a parking spot several houses past the address. Good thing she had a knit hat in the back seat. She twisted her hair up, tucked it under the hat and got out of the car. She eyed the two-story, stucco construction as she approached it and couldn’t help wondering what Jason was doing with a wanted individual. Whatever the case, she was certain he had a good reason. She pressed the doorbell and worried her lip as she waited.

  When the door swung open, the sound of dance music and multiple voices floated out from the depths of the house. Her brow furrowed as she looked up into the smooth face of a young man. His pretty-boy blond looks barely registered. They were having a party?

  “Hi. Um, this is 2900 South Lafayette, right?”

  He gave her a casual once-over and made a show of stepping outside and gesturing at the address plate above the door. His shoulder brushed against hers as he said with a grin, “Looks that way, miss.”

  She didn’t have time for this. “It’s important that I talk to Jason Kelso right away.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Lucky guy. Is he expecting you?”

  Stephanie pushed out a sigh. She couldn’t get caught here and needed this guy to take her seriously. “Look, I’m a friend of Jason’s and I believe he’s here, possibly helping out someone who jumped bail on a blood party charge.”

  The young man’s face sobered and his eyes narrowed and scanned the street. “What’s going on?” he asked warily when he looked at her again.

  She shook her head. “There’s no time. Bounty hunters are on the way. Warn Jason he has to leave.” She skipped down the few steps and heard the muttered “fuck” as the man rushed back inside. Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she watched her breath mist and wondered if the other bounty hunter was watching her. Even if he put two and two together at some point, he didn’t know her. As she drove away, she prayed Jason got her message in time.

  One shot, Stephanie told herself as she nodded at the massive bouncer who held the door open for her. It was early and there were only a handful of patrons. The DJ was playing warm-up electro jazz, which she liked. She walked along the length of the bar, a wall-to-wall piece with a glossy black counter and a distressed red motif along the base. She passed the first bar man and took a seat across from Michel.

  The blue-eyed vampire flashed a smile. “It’s been a while, kitty. What sort of naughtiness have you been up to?”

  “None.” She’d never told him her name. In fact, she never told him much.

  His brow quirked. “So why the troubled face?”

  She slanted a look his way and he raised his hands.

  “Okay, no talking. What do you feel for?”

  Her stomach longed for human blood, but that would make her even less human. “Cow shot.”

  When he placed the small glass before her, she downed its contents quickly. Heavenly. She felt its absorption into her bloodstream within minutes, the pure nutrients coursing through every cell in her body, sharpening her senses, feeding the hungry spot in her center.

  Michel was arranging things behind the counter, but his gaze had barely strayed from her. “Hit the spot?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” She fished around in her bag for a ten and slid it across the counter. “Keep the change.”

  He frowned at the bill and leaned closer, his mouth inches from her ear. “You kn
ow you could drink all night and not give me a dime.”

  Stephanie smiled and purred her answer, “I know, but then you’d want something in return.”

  He chuckled. “Just a teeny bite.”

  It was tempting. She slid off the stool. “Take care, Michel.”

  Chapter Three

  Two days later, Alex DeSousa called him on his mobile with some data. In ten minutes, Dex had a detailed biography of Stephanie Dubois, which included her address, her current employment, a clear criminal record, unremarkable financial records, as well as pertinent information regarding her family members. Nothing indicated that she was dhampir, which didn’t surprise him. Many dhampir kept their nature a secret, fearing social and professional discrimination.

  He took notes, including secondary information, like the fact that her two brothers were vampire bounty hunters.

  “There’s more,” Alex continued. “An update came through the warrants database when I did my search. The brothers had a bail piece on a vampire named Eric Polasky a while back. A few days ago—April 23rd specifically—they raided a residence in the city for Polasky. The operation was unsuccessful. But,” he paused, “get this. I sneaked a peek at the forensics file, and I came across a couple of photos of a woman that looks a little like your Stephanie Dubois. Compared to her official pic, that is. Not the clearest of images, but she’s tagged as a person of interest.”

  Dex froze. If Stephanie Dubois was brought in for questioning and charged, it could sever the last string of hope for his brother. No fucking way. He snapped out the next questions. “Has she been identified? Is there a picture of her car—a license plate?”

  “No. Again, the pics aren’t very sharp, taken at night.”

  He expelled a short breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, thanks, man.”

  “Sure. This will have to go through internal mail,” Alex said.

  “That’s fine. Oh, one more thing—can you find a picture of her online?” Although Alex could send him a copy of her formal picture, VCI tracked all internal activity and that action could raise a flag.

  “Give me a sec.”

  The sound of rapid keyboard clicks came through the line.

  “Okay, she’s got a LinkedIn account under her full name.”

  “Perfect, thanks again.”

  “No prob,”Alex replied and disconnected.

  He had to act fast, had to see this woman. He wrestled with his professional sensibility for a bit, questioning her possible involvement in her brother’s bounty raid. Was she helping out or trying to jeopardize it? But for the most part, his actions derived from primal impulse. He didn’t care what her involvement was, if any, with the bounty operation. He just needed her safe and willing. He glanced at his watch. It was nearing four. There were two cases on his desk, which he’d just started studying. They’d have to wait.

  After taking the necessary steps, he put a Level III access limit on the Polasky/blood party case, preventing the brothers from viewing the evidence file. As a senior agent, he had the authority to do that on the basis of cross-investigation. Of course, there was a possibility they’d already seen the photos. Once he received the photos from Alex, he printed them out, pulled on his uniform bomber jacket, and headed out of the office.

  In his car, he called Victor and asked him to find the online photo of Stephanie Dubois and send it to him via text message. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel while he waited. Once the message came through with a ping, he opened the attachment. The tattoo artist hadn’t exaggerated. The definition of her features was striking. Wide-set brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a lush mouth, all framed by straight, long dark hair. There was a delicate, yet feral quality about her that registered in his groin. He cleared his throat and shifted in the seat.

  He compared it with the forensics photos. Whoever took those night shots had used a standard digital camera. The images were a bit washed out, and she wore a hat, but Dex picked up the similarities between the online picture and these, particularly the wide curve of her lower lip. He was almost positive she’d been at the site of the raid and talked to someone there.

  In a flash of clarity, he realized that this was the sign Victor had referred to. More than a sign. It was significant leverage. He started the engine and accelerated into the moving traffic. Stephanie Dubois lived in an apartment building just ten minutes’ drive from VCI headquarters. He slowed once he turned onto her street and found a parking spot with a good view of the entrance. He assumed she’d be coming home from work soon. He’d wait all night if he had to.

  A little past six, he reached for the large insulated mug in the center console and took a swig. The cow’s blood instantly eased the onset of hunger pangs. He was just finishing dinner when he spotted Stephanie Dubois walking along the sidewalk toward her home, a sports bag hanging from her shoulder. Her hair was up in a ponytail, the ends bouncing at the midpoint of her back.

  His pulse jumped with anticipation and something else he chose to ignore. Finally, Ms. Dubois. He put the mug down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Assuming she’d recently had a workout, he’d give her a bit of time to settle into her home, but not enough to jump into the shower. His patience was running thin.

  Five minutes later, he crossed the street and rang her apartment via the intercom system.

  “Yes?” the feminine voice came through the phone.

  “Stephanie Dubois, I’m with the VCI.” He raised his ID toward the camera nestled in the high corner of one wall. “I need a moment of your time.” Dex sensed the surprise in the short silence that followed.

  “Of course…um…apartment three-o-four.”

  The door buzzed and he pushed through. When he located her apartment, he didn’t get the chance to ring the bell. The door opened and Stephanie Dubois raised her chin and looked at him with questioning eyes. It was a look he was accustomed to, but everything physical about her hit him at once. In particular, those wide eyes, that luscious mouth, and the shapely curves outlined in spandex athletic wear. For a slim woman, her breasts were surprisingly full. He felt gut-punched. Or was it cock-punched? Hell.

  Dex gave himself a mental shake and showed his ID with a professional, “Agent Dex Mason.”

  Her gaze was cautious as it lingered on the ID before giving him the once-over. “What’s this about?” she inquired with obvious wariness.

  “I’m investigating a blood party case and I have reason to believe that you have some information for me.”

  The tinge of color on her cheeks faded and her gaze faltered an almost imperceptible degree.

  “Sure…come in.” She stepped to the side.

  He walked into her small living room and looked around, noting the three unframed contemporary paintings along the far wall, the tall, heavy-laden bookcase, the white laminate drawing table, and the average-sized flat screen TV. She was neat, possibly well-read, and had an artistic talent. He’d deduced the latter mostly from her occupation. His perusal of her personal space bought him a few seconds to refocus.

  When he looked at her again, she was standing by the sofa. He kept his gaze above her shoulders and said, “I have a few questions.”

  She gave him a tense nod.

  Dex pulled out a notepad from his jacket and flipped it open to a specific page. “This past Saturday, you were at 2900 South Lafayette Street, the residence where one wanted fugitive was hiding in relation to charges surrounding a blood party.”

  Her eyebrows hitched and her gaze froze for a few seconds. “How do you know I was there? And…I don’t know anything about a blood party.”

  He closed the distance between them and pulled out the photos. “The house was under surveillance. An officer took these photos of you.”

  She took the two photos with unsteady fingers and stared at them for a long moment. When she handed them back, she looked past his shoulder and asked in a toneless voice, “Have the bounty hunters seen these?”

  Stephanie Dubois was getting tangled in t
he net he’d laid. It didn’t please him, but it was virtually the only sure way of getting her help. If she agreed.

  “I don’t know, but there’s a cross investigation with this case, which is how I got them.” He pressed on, adding an edge to his voice. “Thing is, one minute the vampires are gorging to their hearts’ content, then you show up and all the donors disappear. The evidence is gone.” It was an exaggerated truth.

  She raised slim fingers to her mouth and shook her head. “Oh God…I really had no clue about the party. I wanted to help a friend whom I believed was in trouble.” She splayed her hands. “I don’t know the guy in the photo.”

  Her response seemed genuine and he felt a jab of guilt for putting her through the mill. Hopefully the hard part would be over soon. “That could be true, but your mention of bounty hunters means you know something about the case.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, most likely giving herself a mental kick for the slip. With an audible sigh, she sat on the sofa’s armrest and said, “They’re my brothers.”

  Dex could have interpreted the hint of pain in her voice in various ways, but he filed it in his memory for now.

  “I just wanted to do the right thing. I didn’t purposely ruin their mission,” she added.

  “M-hm. One more thing—what’s the name of your friend?”

  Her mouth began to form a little O, but she stopped it by pressing her teeth into her bottom lip. The action made his cock swell against his pants. He resisted linking his hands in front of his crotch, because that would draw her attention there. He cursed silently.

  “Jason Kelso,” she finally muttered.

  His eyebrow quirked. “Kelso—the vampire rights activist?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  Dex suppressed a groan. Damn. This new fact didn’t bode well. If VCI pursued the trail to her, it would interfere with his plans.

  “Bounty hunters, a vampire rights activist…I have to take you in for further questioning,” he announced, snapping the notepad shut.