Her Vampire’s Promise Page 3

  She didn’t acknowledge Garrison. Instead she pulled her hand away and looked at Reade. “What do you want?”

  Garrison tilted Lawrie’s chin toward him, pinning her with his gaze. “We want Lawrence Tyrone’s only living heir to tell us where’s she’s been for the last twenty years and what’s going on at Panthera.”

  “And she’s not leaving here until she does.” Reade turned to face the bartender. “Lock the door, then go in the back and wait.” The man scurried off to do as he was ordered. When they were finally alone, Reade’s attention trained on Lawrie. “Start talking.”

  Chapter Four

  Lawrie’s mouth dropped open. How did they know who she was? She had only ever left the compound three times and all three times she’d landed here. She had never shared any information about herself with anyone. Her entire life was a secret, even to her.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She jerked her chin from the tall, lanky stranger’s hand.

  “Come now. You know exactly what I’m talking about, Lawrie Marie.” He curled his lips into what she knew was a fake smile. It appeared about as welcoming as a hyena’s. “You are your father’s daughter. I’ll give you that. Same nose. Same brave heart and stubborn streak. But you probably know that didn’t save him. It won’t save you either.”

  Lawrie stiffened in her chair. She’d studied both men, each pale, each with a certain air about him that said he was more than just a man. She was fairly certain they were vampires, though she’d never seen one in person and neither sported a set of giant canines.

  They appeared like normal men, but there was something different, something indescribable, yet very clearly present. It was power, confidence, arrogance.

  Vampires thought they were impossible to defeat. But everyone had a weak spot.

  “Bravery is no defense against treachery,” the tall vampire said.

  She’d only ever heard that her father’s death was due to his own stupidity. Her uncle made it very clear her father was to blame for the botched experiments and the near collapse of Panthera. Lawrence Tyrone was considered a traitor within the company and the family.

  She never believed it. She couldn’t. Her gut told her he’d been a good man, noble, honorable, kind. Her heart told her he wasn’t anything like her uncle. Yet, his notes told her everything about his alliance with the vampires.

  Was he a traitor? What she wouldn’t give to know the truth about his death. Nearly everything she had, short of her own life.

  “If you lay another hand on me, I’ll do worse to you than I did to him.” She mustered all the anger she had, channeled every bit of the pain from her hand at the tall stranger.

  “Do you mean to tell me you’re equally as good with your left hand as you are with your right? I don’t believe it. That would make you ambidextrous, which you admitted you are not.” He stepped back. “Go ahead. Take your best shot.” He waved her toward him. “If you insist on this tactic, I’ll do battle with you. You must be a worthy adversary, seeing how you defeated one of the best fighters I’ve ever sparred with.”

  “Garrison,” her first victim said.

  “What? I want my chance with her. Wouldn’t be right for you to be the only one Lawrence laughs at from his grave.” He bowed to her. “We should get this going so that we can get back to business. Time’s a-wasting.”

  Lawrie stood up from her stool, holding onto the bar with her good hand. Her right hand throbbed, and the ache pulsed through her entire body. She feared her knees might give out, but that didn’t stop her. She would not go down without a fight.

  Garrison was mocking her. The first guy had mocked and now this guy. Where were they from, the land of mockery?

  “Reade, you know how he loved a good laugh. Can’t imagine he feels any different now.” Garrison shrugged his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. “Come little firecracker. Take your best shot.”

  She hated being treated this way. All her life every man around her treated her as though she was some silly girl to be knocked around and told she was a fool. You think you understand physics? You don’t know a damn thing. You think you understand the chemical engineering of plasma? Stupid girl. Go play with your dolls.

  The brute in front of her waited. His shorn black hair and stubbly chin added to his already terrifying presence. He cocked his head to the side and stood perfectly still.

  She snickered. Everyone doubted her, but she had understood. She’d learned faster than her cousins. She’d memorized every formula, every flaw, every success and every failure. She knew why the experiments didn’t work and what not to try, but they never listened. They never gave her a second thought. Get back to the stock room. Clean the bins.

  That’s all they thought she was good for and now these two idiots thought the same. She wouldn’t have been surprised to learn they’d been sent to terrorize her.

  Lawrie stepped away from Reade, then took another step back to give herself room.

  “Where you going?” Garrison asked.

  What if she was right and these two worked for her uncle? What if her uncle knew she’d escaped the compound? The punishment would be far worse than a broken hand.

  “Garrison, don’t do this. She’s in enough pain.” Reade turned from his friend to Lawrie. “You don’t need to fight him. We just want to talk.” Even though what he said wasn’t threatening, his tone was completely different. Anger still edged his words. Dried blood formed a crusty line down his chin. “You don’t want to have to explain this to your uncle.”

  How could her uncle have known she’d been coming here? Had she been followed? Had the bartender given her away? Mic had been the only person she’d told her first name, and she’d never told him where she lived. She even parked her damn bike in the bar so no one would see it outside.

  “You don’t know what I want or don’t want.” She squared her shoulders, remembering her father’s letters to her. Always keep your head high and shoulders back when facing an adversary.

  Whether or not her uncle had sent these guys she knew she had to prove herself tonight or die trying. Being dragged back to the compound wounded was not an option. She needed to take care of these two and sneak back to her room. Tomorrow she’d claim she fell on her hand and face the taunts.

  “I’m not afraid of him or you.”

  “Well, there’s your first mistake.” Garrison stepped toward her, closing the four-foot space between them down to only a foot or two.

  Lawrie inched backward. “That’s my first mistake? Coming here wouldn’t have been my first mistake?”

  “No. Coming here was not a mistake. You did that on purpose. You must have had some sort of plan.” Garrison’s gaze dropped to her right hand. “Something’s up and you’re just dying to talk. I can see that in your eyes. Suspicion. Excitement. We’ll talk to you. We’d love to talk to you.”

  Shifting her weight and bringing her left foot forward, she moved her right hand behind her back, out of his reach. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Oh, many things, like your uncle for one. Maybe your father for two.” Garrison glanced at Reade, whose veiled expression never changed.

  Whether they’d come to torment her or not, they clearly had information she wanted. “Care to make a wager?” When she moved her hand, she winced, unable to hide her pain. “A friendly bet on something that I promise won’t be fun for you.”

  Garrison leered, his gaze roaming from her face to her chest and lower. “Oh, I am a betting man. I would love to make this interesting. What are the stakes?”

  For the first time all night it occurred to Lawrie that these men could do worse than physically beat her. Was it possible that her father had been completely wrong? Were the vampires he’d so thoroughly trusted really the enemy? She was beginning to believe that was the case.

  “If I defeat you like I did him, you tell me everything you know about my father and you let me go.” Fumbling for her weapon, she winced again when her right hand brush
ed over the small of her back.

  She knew full well she wasn’t going to get an opportunity to bring this man to his knees as she had with the last one. He was expecting it. She’d need to use a much different tactic.

  “Careful, Lawrie, he’s tricky,” Reade said.

  She glared at him. “Don’t call me that.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That is your name.”

  Her challenger chuckled. “Crazy little firecracker.”

  “Crazy?” Rage bubbled inside Lawrie. She’d been called crazy far too many times.

  As if on autopilot Lawrie moved without considering what she was doing, seeing everything around her in bright, vivid detail.

  She rushed forward, closing the space separating her from her opponent without either man responding to her move.

  Garrison’s eyes widened. His mouth dropped open just as she reached him. They toppled to the floor, Lawrie landing on his chest. Before he could get his wits, she pulled the stake from her waistband and using both hands, aimed it at his heart and brought it down hard and fast. “I’ll give you crazy.”

  The man beneath her froze. The smartass look on his face melted away, replaced by shock and then recognition.

  Lawrie pressed the stake to his chest until she was certain the razor sharp tip pierced his skin. She’d grown up hearing about vampires and how her father had been a vamp-lover, how he’d betrayed his people to help save the disgusting beasts. She’d read about the vampires her father and uncle had known in her father’s notes and in the journals her uncle published for everyone at Panthera to study.

  She’d seen pictures. But she’d never seen one up close. They’d been mythical creatures until tonight.

  “Start talking, vamp.”

  “That was quite impressive, little firecracker.” Garrison shifted, causing Lawrie to lose her balance, but rather than fall off or have to use her broken hand to catch herself, she bore down on the stake with her left hand, jabbing it into his chest. He hissed and his fangs descended.

  A small stain of blood colored his shirt right above his heart.

  “Don’t try that again or I swear I’ll kill you where you lie,” she said.

  Chapter Five

  The stench of burning flesh permeated the air. Reade knew instantly the stake Lawrie pressed to Garrison’s chest was no ordinary piece of wood.

  “There’s silver in that stake,” he said.

  “No shit, Einstein,” Garrison snarled.

  Reade didn’t move. He sat stone-still watching as yet again the little psycho managed to prove a more worthy adversary than expected. He had to admit he was impressed. He also had to admit he should have stopped her from getting the upper hand, but he hadn’t quite seen this coming.

  He’d clearly seen her struggling to retrieve whatever was behind her back, but he’d anticipated a gun or maybe, if he stretched his imagination, a stake, though certainly not one lined with silver.

  If he’d known she had a stake enhanced with silver, he still would never have anticipated her speed. She moved like a vampire. Nearly as fast and absolutely as skilled. This must have been why she’d been able to break his face, twice, when she attacked him.

  That could be the only explanation for how she bested him. The question remained: how could she possibly be that fast after all this time?

  “How did you do that?” Reade asked.

  “Shut up,” she snapped. “I’ll pin his heart to the floor.”

  The pool of blood on Garrison’s chest grew. His skin had already taken on a grayish tint. “Get her off me.” His jaw clenched tight.

  Reade knew Garrison was in agony. He knew all too well what silver pressed against vampire skin felt like, and he wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.

  “We had a deal. Tell me what you know of my father.” She leaned on the stake.

  “It’s going to be really hard for me to tell you if you kill me,” Garrison growled.

  “Then tell your friend to tell me,” Lawrie said.

  Reade couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. It wasn’t just that he was intrigued by how she’d managed to make this happen or that he loved seeing Garrison’s ego deflated. It was the absolute irony that made it even more fabulous.

  He considered squatting down so he could see her face, but based on her ability to move much more quickly than he ever seemed to anticipate he decided to remain in his seat.

  “Exactly how do you plan to end this situation?” He couldn’t wait to hear what she had in store.

  “I will kill him.”

  Garrison writhed beneath her.

  “I have no doubt you will, but believe me when I say you won’t kill both of us.” Reade stood from the barstool and stepped behind her so she couldn’t see him at all. “Tell me what your plan is to escape with your life after this.”

  “We had a deal.”

  “No. We did not. We never shook on it. And we certainly didn’t agree to let you torture anyone and then leave.” Reade grinned.

  “You are just as my uncle said. You can’t be trusted. You planned to kill me when you came in tonight, didn’t you?” She turned her head an inch or two.

  Garrison’s hands came up, and quick as a vampire Lawrie’s head jerked to face his. Her weight shifted, centering over the stake, its point cutting further into his chest. Blood bubbled from the wound.

  “One more inch. Go ahead. Tempt me.” Her blonde hair swung forward, covering Garrison’s face.

  “Reade!” he hollered and gasped, his hands returning to the floor. “Get her off!”

  “What exactly has your dear Uncle Raymond said about us?” Reade sat on the edge of the booth nearest his friend and Lawrie.

  “That you’re ruthless blood suckers. That Father’s death was your fault.” She grunted. “Killing you might…” Her voice trailed off, and Reade couldn’t quite hear what she mumbled.

  “Interesting. I’d say the same about him. I think most vampires who knew Raymond would agree.” Reade saw the way her hand shook. Sweat now dripped down her arm. Her back was drenched. She couldn’t possibly hold out much longer. Her strength had to fade soon.

  “He’s not a vampire, if that’s what you’re getting at.” She pulled her legs up closer, managing to sit back and still keep the half-inch tip of the stake buried in Garrison’s chest.

  “Just because he doesn’t drink the blood, doesn’t mean he isn’t a vampire of sorts.” Reade sighed. “We know he’s been experimenting. We just don’t know what he’s planning.”

  Of all the men Reade had met in his long life Raymond Tyrone was the most ruthless and vile. Reade had seen him slice a child’s throat to ensure the family’s bloodline ended.

  He’d come to believe Raymond was a man from the Middle Ages reincarnated in the twentieth century. He had no doubt Raymond had spent a couple centuries in hell honing his skills before coming back to life.

  “What did your father’s notes say about us?”

  Lawrie glared over her shoulder. “What are you talking about?” Her breaths came short, shallow and quick.

  “What is it you want to know? How your father died?” Reade asked.

  She nodded.

  “Uncle Ray-Ray stabbed him in the back, and not just figuratively.”

  Reade relived that night every single time he dreamed. The horror of what had happened to a good friend was hard to forget.

  “How?” She swallowed loudly. Her shoulders tensed.

  “Raymond called in a report that rogue vampires had attacked Panthera and he needed help defending the lab. We arrived as quickly as possible, ready for battle.” In his mind’s eye Reade saw the smoky hallway, the flames from the laboratory and the screaming shadows running past him desperately searching for an escape.

  “As quickly as possible? I heard it took more than an hour for the Guards to arrive.” She ground out the words. “Turned out to be an inside job. Bunch of vamps turned on us.”

  “We could hardly see what was happening. Do you know how loud flames
can roar?” He remembered the sound as deafening. Flames rolled over the lab, wave after wave. “Your father was in the microbiology suite, fighting with one of the attackers.”

  “Which of you turned on him?” Lawrie choked back tears. “Which of you monsters tricked him into trusting you and then killed him.”

  “An inside job is right, but not one of us, not the Guard, never one of us.”

  “Liar!” She sat up, raised the stake a few inches and thrust downward.

  Reade grabbed the end of the stake, stopping Lawrie from driving it into Garrison’s chest. “He fought hard. He fought well. He died with a stake driven into his back at the hands of your uncle.”

  Chapter Six

  Lawrie’s body shook. The combination of sheer exhaustion, excruciating pain and hearing Reade tell her something she’d long suspected was almost more than she could take.

  When the vampire beneath her scrambled backward, she fell over. Agonizing pain shot up her arm, and she crumpled to the floor, screaming.

  “Serves you right.” Garrison crawled away, keeping his eyes trained on her. “If you weren’t Lawrence’s daughter, I’d rip your throat out. Where’s the damn bartender? I need a drink.”

  His skin was gray. Veins zigzagged just beneath the surface like worms dying in the summer sun. “You were a lot nicer when you were little.” He reached up for the bottle of whiskey on the bar and swallowed several mouthfuls. “Should have known Raymond would turn you into a monster.”

  He ripped his shirt open to reveal a festering sore on his chest. “This is fucking killing me. What’s that thing laced with?” He glared at the stake Reade held with a napkin. “I felt it leaking into me every time she leaned on it.”

  “Has to be some sort of silver alloy. It burned my hand the second I grabbed it.” Blisters bubbled over the palm of the hand he’d used to wrench the stake from Lawrie. The skin of every finger was swollen worse than Lawrie’s broken fingers. “Impressive and terrifying that Raymond has managed to design something like this.”