Kiss of Midnight(60)

Lucan’s temperature, already high, began to rise. “Do not threaten me, Gabrielle. And don’t think the police can give you any kind of protection. Certainly not from the danger that’s pursuing you. For all we know, half the precinct could be infested with Minions.”

She shook her head, adopting a calmer stance. “Okay, this conversation is going from strange to deeply disturbing. I’m done with it, understand?” She was speaking to him slowly and quietly, as if attempting to soothe a frothing dog that was crouched before her, ready to spring in attack. “I’m going to leave now, Lucan. Please…don’t follow me.”

When she took the first step away from him, what little was left of Lucan’s control snapped its tether. He locked his gaze down hard on hers and sent a fierce command into her mind, ordering her to cease resisting him.

Give me your hand.

Now.

For a second, her legs stopped moving. Her fingers grew a little restless at her side, then, slowly, her arm began to lift toward him.

And, suddenly, his hold on her broke.

He felt her force him out of her thoughts, disconnecting him. The power of her will was an iron gate slamming down between them, one he would have had a hard time penetrating even if he’d been in optimal condition.

“What the hell?” she gasped, registering the trick for what it was. “I heard you, just now, inside my head. My God. You’ve done this to me before, haven’t you?”

“You’re not leaving me much choice, Gabrielle.”

He tried again. Felt her push against him, more desperate this time. More afraid.

The back of her hand came up against her mouth, but could not quite stifle the broken cry that leaked out of her.

She stumbled back off the curb.

Then bolted across the darkened street to escape him.



“Yo, kid. Grab the door for me, will ya?”

It took a second for the Minion to realize he was being spoken to; he’d been so distracted by the sight of the Maxwell woman on the street below the police station. Even now, as he pulled open the door to let a pizza delivery guy carrying four steaming pie boxes enter, his attention remained rooted on the woman as she stepped off the curb and ran across the street.

Like she was trying to leave someone in the dust behind her.

The Minion looked to where a huge figure in black stood, watching her flee. The male was immense—easily six-and-a-half-feet tall, shoulders beneath his dark leather jacket like they belonged on a linebacker. He radiated an air of menace that could be felt all the way from the street to where the Minion now stood, dumbstruck, still holding the station door open, even though the pizzas were currently parked at the receptionist desk inside.

Although he had never seen one of the vampire warriors his Master so openly despised, the Minion knew without a doubt that he was witnessing precisely that now.

It was an opportunity sure to win him much esteem, alerting his Master to the presence of both the woman and the vampire with whom she seemed familiar, if not a little terrified.

The Minion stepped inside the precinct house, his palms moist with anticipation of the glory that awaited him. Head down, positive in his ability to move around all but ignored, he started across the lobby at a hasty clip.

He didn’t even see the pizza guy moving into his path until he had crashed into him, head-on. A cardboard box jabbed into his midsection and emitted a blast of garlic-ripe steam before tumbling to the filthy linoleum, spilling its contents around the Minion’s feet.

“Aw, man! That’s my next delivery you’re standing on. Don’t you watch where you’re goin’ dude?”

He didn’t apologize, or even pause to kick the greasy cheese and pepperoni off his shoe. Shoving his hand into the pocket of his khakis, the Minion found his cell phone and searched for somewhere private to make his important call.

“Hold up a second, sport.”

It was the aging, balding officer standing in the lobby who shouted after him now. Stuffed into his uniform for what he’d boasted was his final few hours on the job, Carrigan had been wasting time bullshitting with the lobby receptionist.

The Minion disregarded the cop’s thunderous voice behind him and kept walking, dropping his chin down and making a beeline for a stairwell door located near the public john just off the lobby.

Carrigan puffed out his chest and gaped with obvious disbelief as his self-perceived authority was utterly ignored.

“Hey, pencil neck! I’m talking to you. I said, get back here and help clean this mess up—and I mean now, shit-for-brains!”

“Clean it up yourself, you arrogant slob,” the Minion muttered under his breath, then shoved open the metal door to the stairs and began a quick jog down to a level below.