Anna Strong - Legacy Part 2

She frowns, and for a minute, I think she's going to lash out. Once again, she surprises me by backing down. "I understand why you might feel that way, but you have to believe me; I'm not to blame for this."

Her tone is sincere, she's not fidgeting, her eyes don't slither away from my gaze. Could she actually be telling the truth?

I try a different tack. "Rory O'Sullivan is a prominent man. If he's ready to risk jail by blackmailing you, he must have a powerful reason. He's not doing it for money. What does he want?"

"What do you think?" Gloria's tone is peevish, the tone of a spoiled child, the tone of one who thinks the answer to that question should be obvious.

It's not obvious to me.

"I'm not going to play twenty questions with you, Gloria. What does he want?"

She heaves a long, deep sigh. "He wants me to sleep with him."

A pause. This time the eyes do slide away.

"Again."

CHAPTER 4.

"HE WANTS YOU TO WHAT? OH MY G.o.d! ARE YOU f.u.c.king kidding me?" I'm screeching like a scalded cat. I can't help it. Neither can I help lunging toward Gloria. It takes great effort not to bare my fangs and howl. My fist connects with a crystal hunk on the top of the desk, and it flies across the room and crashes into the wall.

"You pulled me away from a wonderful afternoon with my niece because of this bulls.h.i.+t?"

Gloria looks stunned at my reaction. "That paperweight was a gift from David. You broke it."

I s.n.a.t.c.h up another crystal knickknack and heft it. For two cents, I'd hurl it at her cheating head.

She raises both hands in front of her face and takes a step back. "Anna, please. This is serious. Rory won't take no for an answer.

He keeps pus.h.i.+ng and pus.h.i.+ng. He's threatening to go to David. To tell him that we've slept together. You know how David will react."

"I know how I hope he'll react."

She pays no attention. "It will kill him. He may do something foolish."

I'm shaking I'm so angry. I hold the crystal whatever-it-is like a weapon and advance on her. "I have an idea. I'll save O'Sullivan the trouble. I'll tell David. It will give me great pleasure."

Gloria is smart enough not to argue, to remain quiet for a minute before offering a subdued reb.u.t.tal. "I know you don't like me,"

she says softly. "But think about how this will affect David. He still adores me."

I glare down at her. "I don't know that. In fact, I only have your word that he wants to get back together with you."

She leans over and picks up her purse. She opens it and pulls out a cell phone. Without a word, she scrolls until she finds what she's looking for, queues up a message and holds it out to me when it begins to play. "Gloria. It's David. Again. I miss you. Please call me. I don't know what I did to make you angry, but whatever it is, I want a chance to make up for it. Please, baby. I love you."

She lets the message indicator play, too. The time of the message was ten fifteen, December 14. This morning.

She lays the phone on the desk, waiting for my reaction. Her expression is carefully neutral. It's a good thing. One smile of smug satisfaction and I would hurl this knickknack at her.

As it is, I pa.s.s a hand over my face, take a deep breath and ask, "What possessed you to come to me with this? You must have known how I'd react."

"It's simple. I love David. I know you love him, too. You don't want him to get hurt."

Her reply surprises me. Or maybe it's the way she says it. She actually sounds as if she means it, but there's something else. A thrill of apprehension touches my spine.

"Has Rory threatened to do more than speak to David?"

She looks away.

I reach over and grab her chin with my hand, forcing her to face me. "Has he?"

She flinches and draws a quick breath. "I don't think he'd really do anything to him. If you'd talk to Rory. Tell him you'll go to the authorities, or the press, if he doesn't leave me alone. Tell him you have connections in the police force. Tell him you'll have him arrested for hara.s.sment or something if he doesn't stop. He'll listen to you. I know he will because you'll make him."

It bubbles out of her in a torrent. When she finally runs down, I step back from the desk, afraid if I don't put some distance between us, I'll give in to the impulse to b.i.t.c.h slap her across the room.

I s.h.i.+ft the thing in my hand and see it's a crystal clock. I toss it from one hand to the other, thinking. I've seen pictures of O'Sullivan. I can't tell from a picture how big he is, but my partner is an ex-football player and I know how big David is. I also know he can take care of himself.

But thinking about the picture makes another image skitter through my head like a rat released from a trap. "O'Sullivan is married.

He was here with his wife and kid for the opening of this place."

She lowers her eyes. "That's why I thought sleeping with him the one time would be harmless." She emphasizes "the one time" as if the qualifier makes it excusable.

"Unbelievable. Only you would call adultery harmless. So turn the tables on him. Tell him you'll go to his wife. Or the press. He has as much to lose as you do. More since this is a community-property state."

She shakes her head. "I tried that. He doesn't care. He says he and his wife have an open marriage and the publicity might actually be good. For both of us. He likes the idea of being seen as a philanderer. Improves his bad-boy image, and if we're seen as a couple, that won't do the restaurant business any harm, either. Anna, he's not normal."

"And you are? Christ. You betray David, and now you want my help to keep it from him. Why should I?"

Gloria pauses, then her face brightens as if my asking that question is a good thing. "I know what you're thinking, how this looks."

Her tone glimmers with hope. "The night it happened, David and I had a fight. A bad one. I was vulnerable and Rory took advantage of it."

Gloria vulnerable? Beyond belief. I have an easier time picturing a rhinoceros being victimized by a flea. "When did this happen?"

"A couple of months ago. You were off doing-whatever it is you do when you disappear."

She cuts herself off with a sharp intake of breath.

Too late.

"You're saying the fight was about me? That this was my fault?" She doesn't have to answer. It's there on her face. "Oh, Gloria, you are dumber than a sack of hair if you think I'd help you."

There's a long, tense silence while we stare at each other. I don't know why I don't walk out. I don't know why I'm not pulling her hair out and screaming. I don't understand any of it until it hits. The flash of inspiration. It must have been simmering in the back of my mind from the moment Gloria mentioned the word "blackmail."

This could be the opportunity I've been waiting for.

I smile. "You know what, Gloria. I've changed my mind. I will talk to Rory."

Relief softens the lines around her mouth until she realizes I'm not quite finished.

"In return, you are going to do something for me."

The frown comes back.

I wish I could tell her she was going to disappear out of David's life forever, but that isn't my call. What I can do is see that she's out of mine.

"If you and David do work things out, you are never going to denigrate me to him again. You will never disparage our partners.h.i.+p or try to convince him to find someone else to work with. You are going to become my biggest fan."

Gloria's mouth opens in protest, but promptly closes again. I see the wheels turning in her rattrap of a brain. She's trying to figure how long this deal would have to stand.

"Forever, Gloria."

"And if I don't agree?" "Then you'll have two people blackmailing you."

It's her turn to stare at me. I'm patient. I'm immortal. I stare back until she comes to the only conclusion she can.

"All right. I agree."

"Great. Where can I find Rory?"

She releases a long sigh. "He'll be here tonight. Around midnight. Can you be here then?"

Good. I want to get this over with. I smile a toothy smile at Gloria. "One thing you need to understand. This is a onetime deal. You f.u.c.k around on David again . . ."

Gloria folds her arms in a weary gesture across her chest. "You may not believe this," she says. "But I really do love him."

I toss the clock to her and she almost trips over her own feet to catch it.

She's right.

I don't believe it.

CHAPTER 5.

I'M SO KEYED UP WHEN I LEAVE GLORIA, I CAN hardly stand it. My skin feels too tight, my nerves tingle like exposed electrical wire. There's only one sure thing that relieves pressure for a vampire. Well, two things, actually. Unfortunately, I don't have a s.e.x partner right now and Gloria has made me so angry I don't trust myself with an unsuspecting human male. I have to do the next best thing. Feed.

Needing human blood to subsist has its problems. It's not like you can walk into a hospital and ask for a transfusion. Even if you could, it would be of no use to the vampire. Blood that's been pushed through tubes and refrigerated loses its essence.

Hunting on your own can lead to unfortunate consequences. While the existence of vampires is a secret well kept from most of society, there is a faction that not only knows we exist, but makes it a mission to exterminate us. Leaving hysterical victims or desiccated corpses is a sure way to attract unwanted attention.

What's a vampire who needs fresh, warm, straight-from-the-donor blood to do?

Luckily, I know.

It's a little after six, and I have plenty of time. Beso de la Muerte is a Mexican "ghost town" not on any map. It's about an hour from San Diego, depending on traffic and the backup at the border. My need is great and my car is fast. I make it in forty-five minutes.

As I pull into town, if that's what you can call a dirt road lined with decrepit wooden buildings, I'm amazed to see three dozen motorcycles lined up in front of the saloon. I've been coming here since the beginning of my vampire existence, and usually there's a car once in a while. But I've never seen anything like this.

I have to park a good block from where I want to go, and walk. The bikes, all Harleys, gleam under a half-moon like jewels.

Softails. Fat Boys. Big V-Twins: Flatheads and Knuckleheads. Custom and vintage bikes that set their owners back serious money.

The throbbing beat of a heavy-metal band pierces the desert quiet. I know the owner of the place, Culebra, and this is not his type of music. He prefers the shrill cheerful wailings of Mexican corrido music. If he's agreed to play what I'm hearing now, it can only be because the patrons inside are spending a s.h.i.+tload of money.

I send out a mental probe-testing to see if I can determine who or what is inside. I get nothing back. No vibrations that indicate otherworldly beings. A raging libido jumps into overdrive along with my salivary glands. Humans who come here do so for two reasons: they are willing to allow vampires to feed from them and/or they have been granted Culebra's protection for one reason or the other. In either case, if the bikes belong to humans, I'm sure to get what I need.

I'm sifting possibilities through my head as I approach the door. Humans agree to be donors not only for the money they are paid, but because it is an erotic, extremely pleasurable experience. If you are a vampire, combining feeding with s.e.x is pleasure amplified a thousandfold. It's taken me a while to get over the hang-up of indiscriminate s.e.x/feeding with a stranger. I've come to accept it as one of nature's ironies. Take procreation away from the vampire, but make the act so agonizingly pleasurable that the vampire craves s.e.x as much as he craves blood.

Still, I'm not ready to do what most of my vamp pals have-establish a monogamous relations.h.i.+p. "Marry" a human to have both a partner and host. Not that I have that option. At the moment, I don't have a human boyfriend.

Which is where Beso de la Muerte comes in.

I push through the swinging doors. The place smells of pot and patchouli. I'm glad I don't breathe anymore. Two deep breaths, and I'd be high.

No one pays the least bit of attention to me as I make my way through the crowd. It's largely female. Amazon women dressed head to toe in leather, sporting jackets with an insignia I've never seen before-a wolf superimposed against a full moon. They're loud. Brittle laughter and shrill voices compete with the throb of the music.

I look around for my friend, Culebra. He's a shape-s.h.i.+fter and the owner of this supernatural safe house. He's not behind the bar.

His mortal employee and a woman I don't recognize are bartending. I send out a mental greeting. Culebra? Are you here?

At first, there's no response. Then I detect a ripple in the karmic fabric that feels a lot like alarm. I'm about to follow the path of the transmission when Culebra bursts from the back room.

What are you doing here, Anna?

Not exactly welcoming.

Nice to see you, too.

His distress at my presence blazes forth like an astral flare. His thoughts radiate a peculiar vibe I can't read and he's shut down the conduit between us that would allow me to understand what's provoking his reaction. It's a cerebral roadblock that ratchets my frustration up another notch.

What's the problem? I had a stressful day. I want to feed. I make a sweeping gesture with my hand. Plenty of humans in here.

He steps close and the lines around his mouth tighten. There are no donors here for you. You should go. Now. Come back tomorrow.

No donors? The place is full of them.