Mile High with a Vampire by Lynsay Sands
Ten
“Mary sleeping?”
Quinn had been looking out the plane window, staring blindly at the clouds moving past, when Jet asked that question. Turning her head, she watched Dante settle into one of the seats across the table from them and nod.
“Sì. Mary has not slept since we heard about the crash,” Dante said on a sigh. “I did on the plane on the way up, but I know she did not, and then neither of us has slept since arriving.”
“And yet you’re awake,” Jet pointed out with amusement.
Dante shrugged, and rather than address that, said, “I am wondering if anyone took the precaution of checking this plane for bombs before we left?”
Quinn felt Jet stiffen beside her, and knew Dante’s words were making her do the same.
“Syd Wheeler is the pilot. I know him. I’ll go ask if a check was done,” Jet said abruptly, getting up.
Dante nodded, and watched him go, then turned to smile at her crookedly. “I suppose it would have been better for me to think of that before we were in the air.”
“At least you thought of it,” she pointed out. “Considering what Jet and I went through during the last flight, it should have been on the top of our minds when Anders drove us to the airport.”
Dante smiled faintly, and then turned to glance toward the front of the plane. When there was no sign of Jet yet, he settled back in his seat with a sigh.
They were both silent for a minute, and then Quinn cleared her throat and said, “Mary mentioned that she had to leave her children after she was turned.”
Dante looked startled at the comment, and then sadness and regret crossed his face and he nodded. “Sì. They are grown, with children of their own, and she had to give them up as well as her grandbabies for me.”
“And yet she still agreed to the turn?” Quinn asked with wonder, not sure if she was more surprised that the woman was old enough to be a grandmother, or that she had given up her children like that. Quinn didn’t think she could have done it. In fact, she was quite sure she couldn’t have.
“She was not given a choice,” Dante admitted quietly. “I had to turn her to save her life after the RV we were in was forced off the road and rolled. Her children and grandchildren believe she died in that accident.”
“Oh,” Quinn breathed.
Dante considered her briefly, and then said, “I am surprised she would share that with you. She normally does not speak of it.”
Quinn recalled the woman’s words at the time. “Frankly, looking at the different permutations, it seems to me that this was the happiest of outcomes. The three of you were turned and still have each other,” she’d said, referring to her, Pet, and Parker. “And as a mother who had to remove herself from the lives of her children and grandchildren after being turned, I cannot express how much I envy you that.”
Their conversation had been interrupted then, but Mary hadn’t really spoken to her since. True, she’d gone for food and then there had been the rush to the airport, boarding, getting seated, and so on, and now the woman was sleeping, but Quinn couldn’t help wondering if Mary also might not be avoiding her. That perhaps she resented Quinn for not appreciating how lucky she’d been. Because Quinn was beginning to see that she had indeed been very lucky in that respect. She still had her son and her sister—and Mary was right, it easily might not have turned out that way. Any one, or all of them, might have been killed by Dressler. Or Pet and Parker might have been turned alone, and she, still mortal, might have been left to think they were dead, the victims of a car accident or some other tragedy, as Mary’s family and her own adoptive parents now believed about them. Quinn wasn’t sure she could have survived that outcome.
“My tresoro has a generous heart,” Dante said quietly. “She will not resent you, or begrudge you your good fortune. She is just tired.”
Quinn managed a smile for the man’s kindness in telling her that, and then glanced up with surprise when Jet appeared to reclaim his seat.
“According to Syd, Lucian has ordered that all the Argeneau planes be guarded when on the ground, and then are double-checked for any tampering before takeoff too. Including this one,” he informed them as he did up his seat belt. “We should be good.”
“Good,” Dante said, the tension leaving his body. “Then I think I will go get some sleep too.” Standing, he nodded to them both and then moved up the aisle to the front of the plane and disappeared from sight when he settled back in the seat next to where Mary was sleeping.
“I guess joining the ‘mile-high club’ is out of the question with Dante and Mary on board,” Jet murmured, reaching out to take her hand in his.
Quinn smiled wryly, her gaze moving to his hand encompassing hers. She watched his thumb move gently back and forth over the inside of her wrist, amazed to find even that small caress was affecting her. Shaking her head at that realization, she squeezed her legs together and murmured, “Toronto too.”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be hard to find any privacy with a houseful of Enforcers around,” he agreed on a sigh, and then shook his head. “This life mate business is a bit crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. Just holding your hand like this is—” He broke off and shook his head again, his fingers tightening around hers.
“I know,” she assured him solemnly.
“We should probably talk about something else,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He grimaced and reached down to tug at the front of his jeans as if trying to make more room, and Quinn couldn’t help looking. Her mouth went dry when she saw that he was sporting an erection inside the tight jeans that appeared to be trying to push its way out of the heavy cloth. It looked huge and made her realize that while she’d touched him she hadn’t actually seen him naked. She wished she could now. She wished she could just unsnap and unzip his jeans and ease him out so that she could look at him. She also wished she was wearing a dress or skirt instead of the jeans Mary had got her. Then she could have crawled into his lap, straddled him, and found out what it was like to have him inside of her. The idea was ridiculously exciting to her as she considered that they’d have to be quiet so that Dante and Mary didn’t hear, and—
“Jesus, Quinn, don’t look at me like that,” Jet growled. “All I want in the world is to tear your clothes off and make love to you right here and now, and you looking at me so hungrily isn’t helping.”
Quinn closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to stop thinking what she was thinking. It was hard, though, especially with his thumb moving over the pulse at her wrist, back and forth and back and forth.
Tugging her hand free, she sat up in her seat, relieved to find that made it easier. A couple of deep breaths later, her mind had cleared enough that she was able to come up with something they could talk about that was far away from anything to do with life mates, sex, or life mate sex.
“Who do you think the bombs were meant for?” she asked, and risked glancing at Jet. She noticed he seemed to be regaining his composure too, now that they weren’t touching. Apparently, refraining from hand-holding would be a good idea in future. Which just seemed ridiculous to her. Hand-holding had always seemed a relatively benign way to show affection before now, but they couldn’t even manage that without wanting to tear each other’s clothes off. Jet was right, this was madness.
“Kira,” he said finally.
“Me too,” she admitted, and then said, “I don’t know why, though. She seems nice to me.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “But who else could be the target? Like you said to Lucian, everyone already thinks you’re dead. As for me, as far as I know I’ve never pissed off anyone at all, let alone enough to make them try to kill me.”
“But you think Kira has?” Quinn asked with interest.
“I mean, she has a guard for a reason,” he pointed out, and then frowned slightly and added, “Although, to be fair, it’s because of who her father is, and any attempt on her life might be to get back at her father for something.”
“Why? Who is her father?” Quinn asked with curiosity.
“Athanasios Sarka, and I can believe he’s pissed off a lot of people,” Jet told her, and then explained, “He’s the head of the Russian Immortal Council. Like Lucian is here.”
“So, he’s probably as much of an ass as Lucian, then?”
“Worse, from what I hear,” Jet said dryly.
“Not possible,” Quinn assured him.
“Athanasios means ‘immortal death’ in Greek,” he informed her. “His people named him that when he lived in Greece ages ago. I was told it’s because he seemed immortal to them and brought a swift and brutal death to his enemies. I gather he’s a bloodthirsty bastard.”
“Well, to be fair, all immortals are bloodthirsty,” Quinn pointed out dryly, referring to their need to drink blood.
A startled laugh slipped from Jet, and then he shook his head. “I love your mind. But the kind of bloodthirsty I’m talking about is dragging the man Kira loved from her bed and cutting his head off in front of her because he didn’t approve of the relationship.”
“What?” she gasped with dismay. “Really?”
Jet nodded solemnly. “She told me that herself. His name was Bogdan or something.”
“She told you that?” Quinn asked with surprise.
“Yeah.” Jet smiled faintly. “It was on a flight to British Columbia. She was going out to do some job for the Council. I guess her guards had all fallen asleep, she was lonely and bored, and came up to the cockpit for company.”
“And she told you something like that?” she asked with obvious disbelief.
Jet shrugged. “Well, she’d just propositioned me and I guess she felt it was only fair that she let me know what I was risking if I took her up on the offer.”
“What?” Quinn snapped, sitting up abruptly as jealousy roared through her like a tsunami. Glowering, she turned on him, snarling, “That bitch propositioned you?”
“No,” he said quickly on a laugh, and caught her fisted hands in his. “I was just kidding. She never propositioned me. We just talked. For some reason females often like to talk to me like I’m a girlfriend and tell me all their troubles,” he admitted. “I always figured it had something to do with my growing up with Abs and Mom-Marge as my main influences.”
Quinn narrowed her eyes on him. “Kira really didn’t proposition you?”
“No,” he assured her solemnly, and then considered her briefly before saying, “But I find it interesting that you’d react so jealously when you aren’t interested in having me as a life mate.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. I said I wasn’t ready,” she pointed out sharply.
Jet stared at her silently for a moment, finding himself annoyed with those words. Quinn might be saying she wasn’t ready, but he was hearing “I don’t want you,” and frankly it stung as much this time as it had the first. And she had the nerve to glare at him while she said it, like it was his fault. That stung too, and he found himself asking, “Ready for what exactly, Quinn? Because it certainly doesn’t seem to be the sex.”
Even as he released her hands and sat back in his seat, Jet was silently asking himself why he was acting like a teenage girl with a boyfriend who wouldn’t agree to go steady.
They were both silent for a minute, and then Quinn muttered, “We haven’t had sex.”
“No. We haven’t,” he agreed. “And maybe it’s good that we’ll be at the Enforcer house and unable to do anything. It’s probably better if we keep it that way until you’re ‘ready’ for a life mate anyway,” he said grimly, and then closed his eyes. “I’m going to take a nap now. Wake me up when we’re about to land.”
Jet knew she was looking at him. He could feel it. He could actually even feel her confusion and upset at his words and had no idea why he was acting the way he was. Except that he wanted her so damned bad he could taste it, and it burned that she claimed she “wasn’t ready” for a life mate but was all over him like a dirty shirt every chance they got.
Not that he wasn’t all over her too, he acknowledged. But his uncertainty as to whether he was willing to be a life mate had fled at some point since that conversation in the woods. He wanted her. But he also liked her, respected her, wanted to protect and pamper her . . . especially after hearing the conversation he’d overheard between her and Mary. He hated that she blamed herself for not being able to protect her son, and her shutting herself away from the world these last four years since being turned was just criminal. It was hard for him to align that knowledge in his mind with the self-possessed woman who had charged through the woods with him over her shoulder, and then had shown such courage at the lodge. Quinn had placed herself between them all and the Russian women in that basement without hesitation, ready to defend them to the death. And it really could have been her death if the women had come through the door rather than Lucian Argeneau. Kira’s bodyguards certainly knew how to kill another immortal and—in their madness—might have twisted, or cut, her head off. If that had happened and help hadn’t come soon enough to put her back together, she would have died.
The very idea shattered him. Quinn was beautiful, and smart, and he adored the way she mouthed off to Lucian. Just watching the tiny five-foot-nothing Quinn standing up to the huge and most powerful immortal around turned him on like crazy. It made him want to tear her clothes off and fuck her all day, every day, until the world ended. Which might be crude but was the truth. The woman had got under his skin. Worse yet, she had him by the balls. One squeeze and she could bring him to his knees. Hell, he thought, she already had him there. But she obviously didn’t feel the same way.
Jet sighed and gave his head a shake. He was expecting too much too soon and he knew it. He’d been obsessing about her for four years—thinking of her, fantasizing about her, and listening for any whisper of news about her—but as far as she was concerned, they’d only just met. He should be more patient, give her the space and time to deal with the stuff she needed to.
Not that he really thought there was anything to deal with. He suspected Mary was right and Quinn felt guilty about not being able to protect her son and had been punishing herself for what she saw as her failure.
But what if punishing herself included never “being ready” for a life mate? That was what was scaring the hell out of him. His mother had been punishing herself for the argument that had led to his father joining the navy and dying for most of Jet’s thirty-one years and showed no sign of stopping. If the saying was true that you married a woman like your mother, Quinn could punish herself that long or more and might never be ready for a life mate during his lifetime. What if that’s what happened? Did he want to spend his life as her plaything, trailing her around like some modern-day Renfield to her Dracula? He pictured himself drooling after her and popping bugs into his mouth as he waited for her to pay him some attention, all the while hoping against hope that someday she’d “be ready.” Is that what he wanted?
Did he have a choice? Jet thought grimly. For while he had said it was probably good they couldn’t do anything at the Enforcer house, he was already trying to figure out a way for them to sneak away together. The woman was like a drug and he an addict, and he’d seen what his mother’s alcohol addiction had done to her.
Sighing, he pushed these thoughts from his mind and really tried to sleep, thinking it might help to clear the confusion from his mind so he could figure out the best thing for him to do about Quinn.
“You ladies go on in, Sam’s expecting you. I’m just going to run the guys down to the garage to see my new toy.”
Quinn stopped walking and glanced around at that announcement, just as Mary turned to smile and wave the men off, calling, “All right.”
They both watched Garrett Mortimer hit the gas and speed off with Jet and Dante in the Jeep, and then Mary turned to Quinn, her smile dropping like a pancake sliding off a plate. “Something’s up.”
“What?” Quinn blinked at the suggestion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, something’s up, and Mortimer’s taking the boys out back to fill them in without us around.”
Quinn peered after the vehicle as it disappeared around the house they’d been dropped in front of. “What makes you think that? Maybe he got a new car or something he wants to show them.”
“He did get a new vehicle,” Mary assured her, and then added, “The Jeep he’s driving them in. And he showed it to Dante while we waited for the plane to arrive to take us to Cochrane.”
“Oh.” Quinn frowned and then started to move when Mary urged her toward the house, but said, “Well, maybe he wanted to show it off to Jet, then.”
“Jet’s no autophile. He’s a pilot. Now, if Mortimer wanted to show him a new plane, he’d be all over it, but cars?” She shook her head. “Nope. It’s something else.”
“What do you think it is?” Quinn asked, a little annoyed at the possibility that she’d been left out of a discussion about the plane accident. It affected her life too. She should have been included. If that’s even what was happening.
“Well,” Mary said thoughtfully, “it can’t be anything new about the plane—the special investigator won’t arrive until tomorrow.”
That was news to Quinn. Lucian had mentioned a special investigator, but she hadn’t realized they had one scheduled to show up so soon.
“So, it must be that they’ve found out something that gives them an idea of who the target was,” Mary decided.
Quinn stiffened, and turned on her with amazement, but then shook her head. “Surely they would have included me if that was the case?”
“Probably,” she allowed with a nod, and then added, “Unless you were the target and they were concerned about how you’d take it.”
Quinn gaped at her. “I wasn’t the target. I couldn’t have been. Nobody knows I’m alive but Pet, Parker, and Santo.”
“Pet, Parker, Santo, and every Notte who knows them, as well as most Argeneaus,” she corrected, and then added, “Plus probably twenty other Enforcers and immortals who were involved in the operation in Albany. Then there are the immortals who helped to make it look like you, Pet, and Parker died in a car accident with your husband, as well as the ones who arranged new IDs for you all, and the other ones who arranged it so that your house, cars, and belongings were sold, and the proceeds from it, along with your savings and the money from insurance and whatnot, all made their way to you.”
Quinn chewed on her bottom lip as she considered that. She hadn’t really thought about how much work must have gone into erasing her old life and arranging her new one. Not to mention making sure she and Parker didn’t lose the money she and Patrick had made over the years. She wasn’t really sure how they’d managed that. Their wills left everything to one another in the event of one of them dying, and their son if they had both died. But Parker was supposedly dead too, so the money probably should have gone to her parents. But it hadn’t. It had been put into an account for her. Obviously, Lucian had arranged that, and somehow made it okay with her parents and everyone else, probably through mind control and whatnot.
“Fine,” she said now. “But why would any of those people want me dead?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted with a shrug. “People are weird.”
That surprised a small puff of laughter from Quinn, and then she asked, “Okay, then, why would the men be concerned about how I’d take it?”
“Probably because you shut down and retreated from the world after waking up to find yourself turned and they see you as weak and fragile.”
Quinn was stiffening at the suggestion when Mary added, “They aren’t trained psychologists like me so don’t see that you’re actually quite strong and resilient with an incredibly robust self-defense system in that wickedly smart brain of yours.”
Now she was blinking again with confusion. “Do you really see me as—Wait, you’re a psychologist?”
Mary grinned. “I used to be. I retired not long before I was turned.”
“Oh,” Quinn murmured.
“But I’ve been considering putting out a shingle again now that Dante and I can manage an hour or two out of bed at a time.” Smiling, she urged her to start walking again. “We smart girls need something to keep our minds busy or we get depressed. Or into trouble,” she added wryly, and then left Quinn to think about that as they walked up the sidewalk to the front door of the large white house that was apparently the base for the Toronto branch of the North American Enforcers.
Mary reached it first, and opened it, but rather than enter, she gestured for Quinn to go in ahead of her.
Murmuring a polite, “Thank you,” Quinn stepped past her into the house and immediately froze when a bark drew her gaze to a large German shepherd charging up the hall toward them.
“Bailey!” Mary squealed behind her, and then moved around Quinn to drop to one knee to greet the excited animal. “That’s my girl. Did you miss your momma? Momma missed you. Yes, she did.”
Quinn watched wide-eyed as the ferocious-looking dog did a good impression of a puppy, licking Mary’s face excitedly, her tail wagging madly, and then sliding onto her back and wiggling ecstatically as Mary petted her belly and continued to coo at her happily.
“Bailey missed her.”
Quinn turned to find Marguerite standing beside her and shifted uncomfortably. The auburn-haired beauty had been kindness itself to Quinn, seeing her through the turn, and then cutting short her RV trip with her husband, Julius, and taking her into her own home to try to help her adjust. Truly, Marguerite had done everything she could to try to help, but Quinn had refused her aid at every turn until the woman had given in and allowed her to fly to Italy to join her son and sister. Looking back at it now, Quinn supposed she would have been better served to let Marguerite help her. She’d certainly be further ahead now if she had.
“You were not ready,” Marguerite said with gentle understanding, obviously reading her mind. “And you did not choose this. You are not the first new immortal to be turned without their permission who struggled with finding themselves changed, and you are not even close to the worst case of denial and rejection of the change that I have seen.”
“Really?” Quinn asked solemnly.
“Really,” Marguerite assured her, sliding an arm around her waist and giving her a quick hug. She then released her and smiled widely. “And you are here now, ready to get help to accept and embrace your new reality. That is wonderful.”
Quinn flushed under her praise, feeling she didn’t deserve it, and admitted wryly, “Only because Pet made me.”
“That may have been the impetus at the beginning, dear. But I can see that you are ready now to make the change.” She patted her arm and then glanced to Mary as the other woman gave her dog one last pet and then straightened. “So is our Mary, it seems.”
“So is our Mary what?” Mary asked, giving Marguerite a hug in greeting.
“Ready for a change,” Marguerite explained as they broke apart. “Are you really considering working in your field again, dear?”
“Oh.” Mary smiled. “Yes. I think it’s time.”
“Well, then I’ll call Bastien and put a bug in his ear about getting the paperwork together for you. Diplomas and licenses—or whatever psychologists need—in your new name will be necessary, I’m sure. In the meantime,” she said, glancing from her to Quinn. “Since you’re already stuck here helping to guard Quinn, you can practice on her. She wants counseling and I think the two of you would suit each other beautifully. Besides, it seems you’ve already made a good start of it with her.”
Mary’s eyebrows rose at the suggestion and she considered Quinn briefly, before saying, “I’d be willing. But only if Quinn is okay with that. She planned on contacting your son-in-law and may prefer that.”
“I—No. I’d be glad to have you therapize me,” Quinn said at once. She liked Mary, but more importantly, a lot of what Mary had said to her made sense. She also hadn’t pulled any punches. Quinn suspected the woman was exactly what she needed.
“Good, then it’s all settled,” Marguerite said on a satisfied little sigh.
“Are you guys ever coming in here? The tea’s getting cold.”
They all smiled at the sound of Sam’s voice from the kitchen and, with Bailey following, made their way into the large room where Mortimer’s wife was setting chocolate chip cookies on the kitchen table. It was already set for tea for seven. Obviously, Sam had expected the men to join them.
Quinn found herself eyeing the woman with curiosity as the tall, slender Sam gave Mary a hug in greeting. She knew she’d met the woman when she was last in Toronto, but that had been three and a half years ago, when she was waiting for the plane that was to take her to Italy. As she recalled, the woman had been cheerful and chatty, but Quinn had not. She’d been tightly wrapped up in her anger and desperation to leave North America for Italy. So, she was a little surprised at the warm, sympathetic smile Sam Mortimer offered her now as she turned to her.
“Wow, look at you,” Sam said, taking in her outfit. “Last time I saw you, you were all buttoned-up and businesslike. Now you’re a raging hottie. Jeans look good on you, Quinn.”
“I’m afraid I can’t take credit,” Quinn said self-consciously. “Mary bought this outfit for me.”
“She and Jet lost their luggage in the crash,” Mary explained.
Sam’s eyes widened and she squealed with delight. “Shopping trip!”
“Oh, yes,” Marguerite agreed with a wide smile. “I’m in for a shopping trip if I’m invited.”
“Of course you are, Marguerite,” Sam said as if there should never have been any doubt.
“Er . . .” Mary said, looking uncertain. “I’m not sure we’ll be allowed to take Quinn shopping. Lucian wanted her and Jet under protective custody.”
“Pffft,” Sam said, waving an unconcerned hand. “That just means we’ll have to take a couple of the boys with us to play babysitter. I’m thinking Francis should be one.”
“Oh, definitely,” Mary agreed, the concern slipping from her face to be replaced with glee. “And he’ll love it.”
“More importantly, he’s good at it,” Marguerite said with amusement, and patted Quinn’s arm. “He’ll have you looking so hot Jet won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”
“He already has that problem,” Mary said with amusement.
Quinn felt herself flush with embarrassment, but shook her head. “He’s mad at me and—” Halting abruptly, she turned on Marguerite. “How did you know Jet and I—”
“He’s your life mate, dear. Of course you and he . . .” She waggled her eyebrows comically.
Quinn stared at her blankly, and then glanced around at the women. “Can everyone tell?”
“Well, our little conversation about life mates was pretty telling,” Mary said. “But I would have realized it pretty quick anyway. The way you can’t take your eyes off each other is a very big tell as well.”
“Marguerite told me,” Sam put in. “She didn’t want me to be startled if I stumbled over the two of you after you’d passed out naked or half-naked in one room or another here as new life mates are wont to do.”
Quinn covered her burning cheeks with her hands and shook her head.
“But now,” Sam said, pulling out a chair, “sit down and let’s have tea while you tell us why Jet is mad at you.”