Vampires In America: Raphael Part 11

"What a shame," Raphael murmured.

Her heart thumped and she scowled at him. "...and then I'm going to go check it out."

Raphael frowned. "Not alone, surely."

Cynthia gave him a genuine smile. He cared. "No, actually, I was going to call and see if you could send a couple of your vamps along. It strikes me they might be handy in a fight."

"Indeed. How many do you need?"

Cynthia thought about it. Mob guys tended to hang around in clumps, all that testosterone in one place made everyone feel like they had more. All the bad guys, anyway. On the other hand, Raphael's men were pretty lethal, and she certainly didn't want a bloodbath, if she could avoid it. Not that the city wouldn't benefit from fewer gangsters hanging around, but it might look suspicious right after she'd been asking questions.

"I think four would be enough. Probably more than enough, but two can hang back in case I need them. Better safe than sorry."

"Excellent. Will we fit in your car or shall I send Juro back to fetch the big SUV? The limo is a bit too noticeable, don't you think?"

"Whoa!" Cynthia said, even as Duncan straightened in alarm and said, "Sire!"

Raphael glanced from one to the other of them, his eyebrows raised in question. Cynthia looked at Duncan and yielded the field to him.

"Sire, you cannot mean to do this yourself?" he asked diplomatically.

"But I do. It's been too long, Duncan, since I've left the safety of my estate and my guards. My enemies have noticed; they see it as a weakness. Do you think they would be moving against me otherwise? I must show them differently."

Duncan closed his eyes in resignation, then opened them to glare at Cynthia.

"Hey, don't look at me, Blondie. This isn't exactly my idea of a good time, either."

Raphael gave her a wolfish grin. Oh G.o.ds, he was looking forward to this. She figured the possibility of bloodshed had just increased dramatically. "Okay," she said with a sigh. "I have to change clothes." She spun around and was sliding the key card through the reader before she was aware that Raphael stood right behind her. She gave him a questioning look over her shoulder. "I don't really need help for this part, my lord."

"You can fill me in on the details while you change. No need to waste time, is there?"

"You know that whole vampires and invitation thing? Can that be undone?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't really work that way, Cyn," he said cheerfully.

"Too bad," she muttered as she pushed open the door.

Cynthia climbed the stairs, very aware of the vampire behind her, his gaze no doubt firmly fixed on her a.s.s. Could be worse, she thought to herself. At least the a.s.s was equally firm; G.o.d knows she worked hard enough to keep it that way. She felt a hysterical bubble of laughter trying to force its way up and swallowed it down with a cough.

Reaching the second level, she proceeded directly through the kitchen to the next set of stairs. "Make yourself comfortable," she said with a wave of her arm. "I'll be five-"

Raphael threw his elegant coat over the kitchen island and followed her. She frowned at him. "I thought we already established that I'm more comfortable upstairs with you," he said with an innocent expression.

"Don't even bother with that look," she scoffed.

Once in her bedroom, Raphael glanced around quickly, then slouched gracefully onto her bed, his long legs stretched out, his back propped against the pillows and headboard. Cynthia kicked off her shoes without thinking, then glanced up and caught the heat in his gaze. She swallowed dryly. "I'll..." She coughed nervously. "I'll just change in the closet."

"Don't leave on my account," Raphael purred. "I'm quite comfortable now."

Cynthia hurried into the closet and began unb.u.t.toning her shirt. She threw the suit into the hamper for dry cleaning. It wasn't really dirty, but that was faster than hanging it up and she felt the need to get clothes on quickly. She pulled her jeans on without zipping them and yanked a turtleneck sweater over her head, fluffing her hair back up with one hand. She was bending over to pull on her s.h.i.tkicker boots, when she heard Raphael call out.

"How was your trip to Mrs. Judkins, Cyn?"

Cynthia suddenly remembered why she was supposed to be p.i.s.sed at the vampire. Her boots in one hand, she stormed out of the closet. "That was a dirty trick, Raphael. You could have warned me-"

He shot off the bed faster than her eyes could follow, suddenly right in front of her, his eyes sleepy with l.u.s.t, his voice so deep she could feel the vibration in her chest. "Was there a problem at the Judkins, Cyn?" His fingers slipped easily into the open waistband of her jeans, sliding beneath the fabric to caress her bare hip, his thumb insinuating itself beneath the band of her thong. It was such an intimate gesture, her breath caught in her throat as she looked up and met his black eyes. No, not black. Not now. They gleamed silver in the dim light.

"Yes," she whispered. "I mean, no. It ... it surprised me, that's all," she managed to say.

He lowered his head and ran his lips along her jaw, nuzzling first her ear, then her neck. The line of their bodies never touched, only his fingers stroking the smooth, naked skin of her hip. His lips touched hers gently, nudging her mouth open, his tongue circling, tasting her.

Cynthia responded. How could she not? Every nerve in her body was tingling with desire, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s begging to be touched, her mouth welcoming him even as she fought to keep from pressing herself against his hard body.

"So little time, sweet Cyn," he whispered, then stepped back.

Cynthia gasped as he moved away. She wanted to curse him, to scream at him to ... what? Christ, she wanted him to take her, to throw her on the big bed and f.u.c.k her brains out. She knew what he'd feel like between her legs, forcing that thick shaft deep into her and driving it in and out...?

Pull yourself together, Cyn!

"Right," she managed. "Okay..." She looked down at the bare skin still visible beneath her unzipped denims and wondered if she'd find a handprint seared into her skin where his fingers had held her. She shook her head and went to zip up, but discovered she was still holding the boots. Dropping them to the floor, she zipped quickly and sat down to pull them on. Raphael was back on the bed, sitting there watching her as if he'd never moved. Son of a b.i.t.c.h.

"Okay," she said. "Kolinsky."

"Kolinsky," Raphael agreed.

"He's Russian Mafia, fairly high up. That's all I could find out on that score, but I'll check my office here before we leave. My guy was going to fax a picture over. I've got another friend who might be able to tell me more, but she's on a.s.signment and I have to wait for her to call me. There's no way of knowing when that will be, which is why I want to check out this warehouse myself. Whoever's making this move on you won't wait forever."

"Certainly not. In fact, I would expect to hear from them very soon."

She spun around to look at him. "Why?"

"I'm in the midst of some ... delicate negotiations. I begin to think these events are related."

"Why?"

Raphael studied her carefully, then gave a barely discernible nod, as if deciding to trust her. "You say this Kolinsky is Russian. Let us just say, my current business also has a Russian connection."

"Makes sense."

"Unfortunately."

Cynthia stood, stomping her feet firmly into the boots. "You ready to rock and roll?"

Raphael rolled gracefully off the bed and to his feet. Slowly enough for her to watch him this time. Which she did. Anyway you looked at it, moving or standing still, he was total eye candy. "Juro has arrived with the SUV."

"I'll drive my own car," she insisted.

"Two cars, then. I'll ride with you."

Cyn snorted. She and Raphael alone in her truck on a dark night. They'd be lucky if they made it out of the driveway with their clothes on.

Chapter Twenty-seven.

Cyn adjusted the angle of her rear view mirror so she couldn't see the fierce scowl Duncan was aiming at her from the backseat. She hadn't needed to worry about being alone with Raphael after all. Duncan had insisted on going with them, as if it was she who posed a threat to the vampire lord, rather than the other way around. Next to her in the front pa.s.senger seat, Raphael sat tapping his fingers rhythmically on the padded leather of the door. Oh, for G.o.d's sake, she thought. He was humming. The vampire lord was humming a cheerful, little tune. He was happy. Cyn shook her head and focused on the directions the in-dash GPS was feeding her. This was a part of L.A. she was not at all familiar with. It was heavily commercial, mostly abandoned this time of night, with few streetlights and too many dark corners. She made the final turn and drove slowly, looking for the address, noticing that very few of the buildings had signs of any kind, much less a street number.

"There," Raphael said, pointing ahead to the left. "Odessa Imports." He and Duncan exchanged a quick look, and Cynthia wondered what secrets the two of them were keeping from her. Okay, probably thousands, but the only ones that concerned her were anything to do with the mob hangout they were about to enter.

She pulled up to the curb outside and shut off the engine, noting the SUV with the other two vamps coasting to a stop right behind her. "I'll go in first. I'm harmless compared to you two. I'll just-"

"No," Raphael said flatly. "We'll go in together."

"If the two of you walk through that door, the place will be empty in three minutes. You guys don't exactly give off a friendly vibe."

"And you, Cyn, are far too tempting a target. A woman alone in a place like this? I think not. Very well. The two of us, then."

"I will go with her, Master, if you will remain here with the others." It was a futile effort, and Duncan knew it even as he spoke the words; she could hear it in his voice.

Raphael was already climbing out of the car, and Cyn hustled to follow before he stomped through the door on his own and destroyed any chance of doing this peacefully. For that matter, she couldn't even be certain this was a criminal hangout. There were probably a half dozen sweatshops within walking distance in this neighborhood. They could barge in and find nothing more than a bunch of illegals putting together toys to go under the Christmas trees of nice, middle-cla.s.s homes all over America. She said as much to Raphael.

"You don't believe that," he said simply.

"No." She drew her gun, checked the full magazine, then reinserted it.

"Wait here with the others, Duncan," Raphael said without looking away from her. "You will know if I need you."

Duncan didn't even bother to argue. He drew a single resigned breath, then nodded. "As you wish, Sire."

Raphael turned long enough to give his lieutenant a rea.s.suring pat on the shoulder, then said, "Who shall we be, Cyn? I don't suppose you still have your badge?"

Cynthia rolled her eyes. Great. Just great. "You be the strong, silent muscle," she said, checking the small of her back beneath her leather jacket, verifying the second gun tucked into her waistband. "I'll do the talking, okay?"

Raphael shrugged. "For now," he agreed, suddenly deadly serious. He walked over and pulled open the heavy door, letting a wan light spill into the street. Cynthia looked up at him as she entered the building and shivered at the unmistakable predator lurking behind his dark eyes.

It was a small, dismal office with flickering overhead lights that would have driven Cyn insane after the first ten minutes. The walls had probably been white at some time in the distant past, but were now so coated with grime and cigarette smoke they had a permanent yellowish cast. It made her want to go home and take a shower-a long, hot shower. There was only one window, and that appeared to lead not to anything as wholesome as fresh air, but to another room behind this one. A single inside door, metal and with an excellent lock, stood in marked contrast to the rest of the shabby office.

An older woman sat at a battered, industrial desk in front of the pa.s.s-thru window, her face as gray as her hair. She looked up at Cynthia and Raphael as they walked through the door, squinting through a permanent haze of cigarette smoke. Her gaze lingered on Raphael uneasily, then shifted to Cyn.

"You folks got the wrong address." Her voice was a harsh rasp that told Cyn the cigarettes had already caught up with her.

Cynthia smiled and crossed over to the desk. "I don't think so," she said in a puzzled voice. "We're looking for Mr. Kolinsky."

"No one here by that name. No one here at all. Good-bye."

Cyn opened her mouth to protest, but Raphael shifted, drawing the woman's attention. "I believe Mr. Kolinsky will want to see us, Mavis," he said in that silky voice of his.

The woman blinked in confusion. "Of course," she rasped. "Let me get the door for you." She stood and hobbled over, tugging a ring of keys from her sweater pocket, and struggled to insert one of them into the heavy lock.

"Let me do that," Raphael said. "Why don't you go back and sit down. You're very tired. Maybe a nice nap will do."

"Yes," Mavis mumbled. "A nap. That's the thing." She was asleep before she sat down, her head hitting the desk with a thump that made Cynthia wince in sympathy.

"How do you do that?" she hissed, glaring at him suspiciously.

"Simple minds are simply persuaded," he murmured, then swung suddenly, wrapping an arm around her waist and putting his mouth to her ear. "Have no fear, my Cyn. There is nothing simple about you." He released her suddenly and she grabbed his arm to steady herself.

"Ready?" he mouthed. At her nod, he pushed through into the next room.

Chapter Twenty-eight.

"s.h.i.t!" Cynthia swore softly when she saw what waited on the other side. It was a warehouse, all right. A huge warren of stacked boxes and shelves that was nearly as deep as a football field was long, with no line of sight on the ground for more than eight feet in any direction. Raphael put a hand on her arm for silence, then nodded ahead, seconds before Cyn heard footsteps coming toward them.

"Mavis?" a man's voice called out. "That you, Mavis?" he repeated more sharply.

Cynthia drew her Glock and stepped sideways between two rows of shelves. Raphael took a step back and simply disappeared, wrapping shadows around him where he stood.

The man was drawing his gun as he came into sight. He was middle-aged, puffy with fat and probably too much booze, his breath soughing in and out so loudly that even had he tried, he could not have moved quietly. Cyn swung her gun around silently, aiming center chest between the bare shelves.

The man frowned when he saw the empty hallway, the closed door. His eyes darted from side to side nervously. Moving with slow deliberation, he pa.s.sed right by Raphael without seeing him, until the big vampire's arm snaked out to hook around his neck, then twisted sharply. The crack of the man's spine was loud in the silence. Even louder was the metallic ring of his gun as it fell to the concrete floor from his lifeless hand.

Cynthia watched the gun fall, then raised her eyes to meet Raphael's. His were flat and black, not even a gleam of silver giving him away where he stood shrouded in his own darkness. She stepped cautiously over to the dead man, then gestured once again into the depths of the warehouse.

At first, they simply walked a straight line, or as near as possible. Eventually, the sound of raucous laughter and loud voices could be heard in the far corner, near what would be the alley side of the building. With a wordless glance, they shifted direction, moving at an angle, detouring around the seemingly random stacks of electronics and all manner of goods, from clothing to toys. As the voices grew louder, they slowed, Raphael coming up on Cynthia's left.

The source of the noise came into sight and they paused. There were a dozen or more men gathered around some tables in a broad, open s.p.a.ce next to a pair of huge roll-up doors. An enormous, wide screen television stood in one corner, the announcer's voice bouncing off the concrete floor, a steady beat against the men's shouts as they watched two half-naked fighters pummel each other in front of a screaming audience. There was a small office to one side. She could see an empty chair and the front edge of a desk, but couldn't tell if anyone was in the room or not. She glanced up at Raphael, hoping he had a way of communicating with Duncan and the others, because they sure as h.e.l.l were going to need some backup here. She moved as close as possible to him, drawing breath to whisper, when a voice shouted from far behind them.

"Pender's down. We've got visitors, boys!"

Cyn never got to ask her question. Fifteen pairs of eyes suddenly swung in her direction, and she dove right, hearing bullets ricochet all around her, crying out as something hot and sharp grazed her left arm. She continued rolling, sliding beneath the shelves, crawling forward on her elbows, trying to put distance between her and whoever was shooting. There were footsteps all around her, boxes crashing to the ground, shelves grating on the hard floor. Men were screaming, grunting with effort, shots filling the high-ceilinged room until her ears rang. She froze, listening for sounds of pursuit, straining to hear above the noise as she began moving again, wanting to get closer to the open s.p.a.ce, needing to see what was going on. She reached the end of a row and peered out to see Raphael wreaking mayhem, picking grown men up like children's toys and throwing them aside. He was violence in motion, teeth bared, long black coat swirling around his legs, eyes flashing in anger. But as well as he fought, there were a lot of them and only one of him. His blood was flying from too many gunshot wounds, splattering his victims, the floor around him, the doors beyond him. Surely, Duncan would come soon?

Cyn began firing. She couldn't offer the kind of physical force that Raphael could, but she was handy with a gun. She fired and moved from cover to cover, drawing the men's attention away from Raphael, but in the process pinning herself in a corner. She cut a glance at the office which was now only a few feet away. Its flimsy plasterboard wall wasn't much protection, but it might be the best she could get. Using the last few boxes as cover, she popped a fresh magazine in the Glock, then stood and sucked in a breath to run for it. A short, wiry man stepped into the open doorway, raised an AK-47 and began spraying the warehouse with bullets. Cyn felt the first rush of real fear. Raphael might be able to take a lot of damage, but even the vampire lord could be destroyed by the full force of an automatic weapon.

She screamed in anger, bringing her gun up and firing in a single, smooth movement. She fired in rapid succession, hitting the shooter in the chest with all four shots. He spun around in shock, eyes meeting hers briefly, before crashing backward. Bullets whizzed past her head as she ran for the office, diving over the body of the shooter and through the door. She rolled immediately to her feet and came face-to-face with a grim man who swung at her with the b.u.t.t of his weapon, knocking her viciously back to the floor. Kolinsky. Of course. Her vision grayed in and out as he grabbed her by the hair, yanking her up and twisting her around, wrenching her arm as he tore the gun from her weakened fingers. She cried out in pain and heard Raphael roar with fury in the other room, followed by Duncan's shout and the frantic screams of terrified men. Clearly, the reinforcements had arrived.