Blood Drive

“Confess to whom?”

“To you, of course.With me as witness. It’s perfect.”

It is. Almost. The only thing that’s missing is Bradley at my feet with his throat torn out.

“Why am I supposed to believe you’ll do all this?”

“Darryl let things get out of hand,” he replies. “I didn’t sign on for murder.”

“No, you just signed on for the sexual exploitation of a young girl. An underage girl, in case you forgot.”

The edge in my voice takes some of the eagerness out of Bradley’s expression. “No one got hurt. Not really. If you saw the videos, you know. She liked it, and-”

That’s as far as he gets. I grab him by the scruff of the neck and heave him off the couch and down to the floor.

“Well,” I whisper, my teeth at his jugular. “At least you’ll die knowing that Darryl wasn’t lying when he told you what I was.”

Bradley tries to wriggle out of my grasp. I pin him down with one hand and grab his face with the other. I hear him screaming, but it’s from far away. I wrench his head to the side and kiss his neck with my lips. Then I bite down. Hard.

The first lush, warm mouthful of his blood sends fire raging through mine. I push against him, my body moving to the rhythm of his heartbeat. The blood drive. I’ve never felt so alive.

An arm encircles my waist.

I rip it off.

It comes back, forceful, strong. Stronger than I. I’m torn away from Bradley and flung down on the couch.

Like a cat, I land on all fours, then spring to my feet. Rage, unrelenting in its intensity, propels me back toward my prize. Bradley is trying to get up. He has a hand pressed against his neck, but blood oozes between his fingers.

I smell it. I feel it.

It belongs to me.

Only one thing stands between us.

Frey.

Chapter Forty-Four

“Get away.”

“A

He’s in human form. His voice rises and falls in the litany of a chant.

I fight it, but he’s holding me immobile with his voice, casting a spell that binds me to this spot.

He repeats the words like a mantra until he sees something spark in my eyes. Then, he stops.

Released, the fury drains from my limbs in a rush that leaves me weak and disoriented. He steps toward me, catching me before I fall, and lowers me to the couch.

“What the hell was that?” Bradley’s voice is shaky, hesitant.

I blink up at Frey. He’s fully dressed. He must have gone to the car and come back. I don’t know yet if I’m glad that he did or not. My body reverberates with the hunger, and my voice rattles in my throat. “That’s a good question. What the hell was that?”

Bradley pushes Frey to one side. “You crazy bitch. You bit me.” He looks at Frey. “You saw her attack me. I’m going to press charges. She must have killed Darryl, too. It’s a good thing you got here when you did. You’re my witness.”

He stops, frowning, maybe wondering for the first time just how Frey came to be here. And how much he heard before making his appearance.

Frey smiles. “You’re right to be worried. I’m a witness all right. But not for you.”

Bradley takes a step back, and his eyes sweep the room, looking, no doubt, for his gun.

“Don’t bother,” Frey says. “The gun is gone.”

I glance at the door. “Did you see the two outside?”

Frey nods. “They’re secured. I happened to mention how Bradley here said that they were responsible for all the murders. I also pointed out that when Williams gets here, it would be to their advantage to speak with him first.”

Bradley narrows his eyes. “Williams is on the way?”

“And your partner is with him.” Frey glances at his watch. “You have about five minutes to come up with a better story than the one you concocted against A

“Well,” he says. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Let’s just say I was motivated. Because of Boston.”

Bradley ignores the comment. From the expression on his face, it looks as if he’s weighing his options, deciding which story paints him in the best light.

I’m watching all this from the couch, fighting the compulsive desire to launch myself again at Bradley. Only the knowledge that my limbs will not respond, that my legs will not support my weight, keeps me rooted to this spot. I’m panting, shaking all over, unable to stop the wild fluttering in the center of my chest. The fluttering echoes in my head. I look at Frey and his eyes are on me. Whatever is happening to me, he is doing it.

“Stop it.” It comes out like a croak.

Frey responds by tilting his head a little to the side. “They’re here.”

And as soon as the door opens and Donovan walks in, I’m released. The shaking stops, my heartbeat slows. I can sit up.

Donovan goes to Darryl first. He bends over the body and checks for a pulse. He turns Darryl’s head gently. “Bruising from perforated blood vessels in the neck, soft structure crushed. His neck is broken.” He stands up and faces his partner. “Looks like he was attacked by a big dog.”

Bradley points to me. “Ask her what happened. She was here. Jesus, look what she did to me?” He drops his hand from his neck and shows the wound. “She must be on some crazy shit.”

“You saying she killed him?”

“Who else? I got here and found him like that. She was the only one here.”

“Why?” Donovan asks softly.

“Why what?”

“Why were you here?”

Bradley sucks in a breath. “I followed her.”

“In what? Your car is at the police station.”

Donovan is moving away from Darryl and toward his partner. “The two guys outside. Who are they?”

“I don’t know. They got here the same time I did.”

“That’s not what they said. You brought them here. To see Darryl.” He glances at the body. “I recognize him, Tom. He’s the kid of that guy we busted in Boston. The one you said had nothing to do with his dad’s business. The one you let off.”

He looks around, awareness and disappointment creeping into his expression. He picks up one of the tapes from the pile on the coffee table and holds it up. “You went into business with him. Christ. You went into business with him.”

Bradley spreads his hands. “How can you think that? I came here for the same reason you did, to shut the scumbag down. I don’t know what those two kids told you, but whose word are you going to accept? They raped and murdered a fourteen-year-old girl. Probably killed Carolyn Delaney, too. There isn’t anything to co

“The laptop.” I’m not sure I’ve spoken the words aloud.

Both men turn to me.

“What?” Donovan says.

“The laptop. He took it from me in the café this morning. His prints will be on it. He brought me here while you were at that meeting with Williams and the mayor.”

Bradley waves my words away with the brush of a hand. “That’s ridiculous.”

Donovan pulls latex gloves from the pocket of his jacket. “Where is it?” he asks me.

I point to the pile of videos on the table. “Under there.”

He pulls it out and holds it carefully at the edges.

Bradley takes a step back. “If my fingerprints are on it, it doesn’t mean a thing. I could have touched it when I got here and found her with the body.”

“Then shoved it under this pile of crap?” Donovan shakes his head. “I don’t fucking believe this, Tom.”

“It’s going to take more than fingerprints-”

But before he can finish, the front door opens. Williams and two cops in uniform walk in. “I just had an interesting conversation with your buddies outside, Bradley. I think it’s time we head downtown.” He motions to the cops, who step to Bradley’s side. “I’m sure you won’t mind if these gentlemen take your weapon.”

Frey has been standing quietly beside the couch. Now he speaks up. “I have his gun,” he says. “He dropped it.”

He holds it out butt first. Williams nods and takes it. For the first time, he looks at me. “The Medical Examiner is on the way. Maybe you and Frey should go.”