Love Bites Part 17

From all along the dock came the sounds of the ensuing battle. Curses, and the sharp staccato of machine fire ripped through the night. "How many?" Max's voice demanded.

"I counted nine," the Captain said, his voice sounding raspy as he ran along the dock to join the fight. "That means six to go." Max grunted, and then roared. The sounds of fists meeting flesh filled Darcy's headset.

"Emmy, get back to the van!"

"Dylan, I have a stake in this too. You're not leaving me behind."

"G.o.d dammit to h.e.l.l!"

As she crept aboard the drug lord's cruiser, Darcy ignored the voices in her ear and the flashes of

gunfire that burst brilliantly around her. Getting Nicky was her sole focus. Oh, and saving Quentin's b.u.t.t.

They were partners now. He shouldn't have proceeded without her.

She climbed up the gangway and slipped over the side, making her way toward the steps leading down into the cabin. The lights had been doused, but she sensed movement inside. Careful not to make any noise, she inched her way toward the shadowed compartment.

"Well, if it isn't GI Jane." The voice came from behind her and she stiffened, her heart lurching in her

chest. "I'd recognize your sweet scent anywhere."

The team went instantly, eerily, silent. With her heart picking up its pace, she slowly turned to face Nicky Powell, her bow raised level with her chest. All she could think was where the h.e.l.l was Quentin?

Quentin watched from the shadow of the c.o.c.kpit, his hand tightening around the puny stake he held.

Nicky had a gun pointed at Darcy. Quentin didn't dare make a move or he might distract her.

Nicky took a step toward her.

"Don't come any closer," she warned.

He sniffed the air. "I smell Quentin. He's been all over you, hasn't he?" His smile sent a s.h.i.+ver down Quentin's back.

"You're surrounded," Darcy said, her voice steady. "You may as well lay down your weapon. You aren't stepping off this boat."

Quentin's chest filled with pride at her courage.

"But I have you, therefore I have the advantage."

A soft click and the blur of her arrow flying toward Nicky's chest happened so quickly, Quentin didn't have time to react.

The arrow sank only to its tip.

Nicky's laughter, soft and ominous rang in the air. "Do you think you're the only ones who own flak jackets?" He plucked the arrow from his s.h.i.+rt. "Let's stop wasting time. Come here." He waved her closer with his gun.

Quentin watched Darcy's face and knew the exact moment she'd decided not to cooperate. She drew a deep breath and her hands clenched at her sides. He started to rise from his hiding place when she took a step toward Nicky. Suddenly, she feinted to the side.

The roar of Nicky's gun spurred Quentin from his hiding place. From the corner of his eye he saw Darcy pitch forward and over the side of the boat, her body splas.h.i.+ng softly in the water below. He roared and launched himself at Nicky, desperate to get to Darcy.

He raised his stake and Nicky fired again, striking Quentin in the abdomen. He dropped the stake, but the bullet didn't slow his advance. His charge carried him into Nicky and down onto the bow of the cruiser. His progeny roared, his face transforming and pulling Quentin into his bloodl.u.s.t.

Quentin's body and face expanded and he flung back his head with a roar of fury. He rolled with Nicky, fighting to keep his "son" beneath him. He spotted a coil of rope and reached out his hand to close around it.

Nicky pounded at Quentin's sides with his fists, but Quentin was undeterred. He grasped the rope in both hands and wound it once around his opponent's throat.

Nicky's eyes bulged as the noose tightened. His mouth gaped and his body bucked in powerful surges, trying to unseat Quentin, but Quentin pulled tighter until the nylon cut into the other vamp's throat.

With adrenaline surging through his veins, Quentin snapped the rope, severing Nicky's head from his shoulders.

When the din of his bloodl.u.s.t quieted in his head, he heard the shouts of the team and Dylan as they ran toward him. He lurched toward the side of the boat and jumped into the water. As he entered it, he heard splashes all around him and bright lights shown into the murky depths.

He swam deep to the bottom of the inlet, but he didn't see her. His heart breaking, he reached into the silt and waving fronds of seagra.s.s, searching for the place her body had settled. How long had it been? Please G.o.d, I have to find her.

His lungs burning from the lack of air, he refused to return to the surface. Every moment was precious. His hands sank below the swirling green seaweed as he swam along the bottom.

Then he saw a pale oval glimmering among the fronds. He reached and snagged Darcy's braid, pulling her into his arms. He swam for the surface, his lungs nearly bursting, praying he wasn't too late.

When he surfaced, many hands reached for his burden. Although reluctant to let her go, he lifted her body gently into their waiting arms, then heaved himself onto the planks beside them.

Max made quick work of removing her Kevlar jacket and her T-s.h.i.+rt. Then he placed two fingers to the side of her throat. "Her heart isn't beating."

A raw, burning sensation tightened Quentin's throat. With every fiber of his being, he fought the need to push everyone aside and gather her close to him and howl. Darcy couldn't be gone. Eternity without her was unthinkable.

His breath sounding harsh in his ears, he watched Max press his clasped hands against her chest. Captain Springer knelt beside her head and lowered his mouth to hers, breathing into her lungs. Dylan pressed her T-s.h.i.+rt against the furrowed wound high on her shoulder that seeped slowly with her blood.

An arm settled around his shoulders and Quentin looked up into Emmy's misty face. Then he realized he was crying. She kissed his cheek and hugged him tightly to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His arms slipped around her while his eyes burned, watching the men work over Darcy's still form.

"Breathe dammit," he whispered, willing her to live. If only, he'd moved more quickly, he could have taken the bullet for her.

The men continued to work and Quentin's dread grew. He was responsible for this. He had made Nicky. G.o.d d.a.m.n his soul.

Max stopped the compressions and checked her pulse again.

Quentin saw a flutter of an eyelid. "Wait," he said, his breath catching. Please don't let me have imagined it.

Darcy's body convulsed and water burbled from her mouth. Max rolled her to her side and she choked, vomiting water. Her eyes remained closed and the group waited to see whether she'd recover.

Slowly, her hand fisted and she coughed. Her eyes opened and she stared straight at Quentin.

Quentin didn't care that everyone saw the tears that streaked down his cheeks. He crawled toward her and reached out his hand to cup her cheek. "Don't you ever give me another scare like that," he said, not recognizing the sound of his voice, it was so clogged with emotion.

Darcy's hand settled over his. "What? You think I planned to suck down the entire Atlantic?" She coughed again, the sound rattling harsh inside her chest.

"Let's get this one to a hospital," the Captain said.

Darcy's eyes sought Quentin's. "Nicky?"

"He's dead," he said flatly.

"As are the rest of his minions," Max said.

Darcy settled back against the wooden planks, her eyes closing. "So tired."

Quentin gathered her into his arms and lurched to his feet. "Sleep, baby. I've got you now."

She sighed and pressed a kiss to his throat.

Quentin held her to close to his heart as he followed the Captain toward the waiting van. He'd never let

her go.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Darcy followed the sound of soft laughter into her kitchen on wobbly legs, rubbing her sore, itchy

shoulder. As she pushed the door open, three sets of vampires' eyes swung guiltily toward her. Suspicion aroused, her gaze darted around the kitchen but didn't land on anything that would inspire the uncomfortable silence-except an open package of calves' liver. Quentin shoved something on the counter behind his back and leaned indolently against the counter.

Darcy's eyes narrowed and she reached around him. She pulled out a cold container of her favorite ice cream, Cookies N' Cream. She lifted an eyebrow, but Quentin simply pulled a laden spoon from behind his back and slipped it between his lips.

Emmy snickered. "So you're up at last? Should you be out of bed?"

Darcy frowned at her attempt to change the subject. Something was up. "What's going on here?"

"We were just discussing the merits of organ meat," Dylan said, then quickly pressed his lips together.

Emmy jammed him in the belly with her elbow and smiled brightly. "And Quentin's odd cravings."

"Emmy!" Quentin's narrowed gaze looked just plain mean.

"I think we'd better leave these two alone, darling." Dylan grabbed Emmy's elbow and herded her out

of the kitchen.

"Sweetheart, how are you feeling?" Quentin asked-too quickly.

Tired of everyone changing the subject and talking in riddles. Darcy crossed her arms over her chest.

"Everyone has been treating me with kid gloves."

"You were injured, love. Everyone's been worried about you. Even Captain Springer and the team make it a point to stop in every day." "And talking in whispers when they think I'm sleeping." "Right. I suppose you've been wondering about that." Quentin straightened away from the counter. Darcy's breath hitched. This was the first time she'd stood next to him since being shot, and she'd forgotten how tall he was. Even unconsciously, he was able to distract her. "Mmmm-hmm."

"Well, we felt it was for the best."

Ignoring the sensual awareness that made her skin tingle, she drummed her fingers on her arm.

"We didn't want to impede your recovery."

Impatient now for him to get to the point, she blurted, "Out with it."

"Alright," he said, blowing out his breath. "But first, let's go sit down. You're looking a little flushed."

She let him lead her into the empty living room and settle her on the sofa, fussing unnecessarily with the

pillows until he was satisfied of her comfort. He'd been this way all week-ever since she'd been

released from the hospital. Solicitous. Kind. Distant. "Have you changed your mind?" she asked quietly, not seeing any need to draw this conversation out. The suspense was already killing her.

He squatted on his haunches in front of her. "Changed my mind?"

"About turning me."

His gaze slipped from hers and Darcy felt her heart squeeze tightly.