A Taste of Midnight Read online

Not until he had what he came for: vengeance.

  Then, perhaps, he would return to his true home. Try to find some way to live again, in the empty place where Reiver had left nothing but death.

  He brushed past Thane into the hallway. “The boss say what he wanted?”

  “Nope. Just told me to find you and send you up to see him.” The big guard crossed his arms over his chest. “Better hope you’ve got nothing to hide.”

  Bran ignored the warning and strode through the main floor of the club, past the members’ lounge and gaming tables, where a few of Reiver’s wealthiest clients had recently arrived to begin their night of deal making, debate, and discreetly arranged debauchery. Reiver’s office was upstairs, a lavish suite that spanned the entire third floor of the building. The pair of vampires posted at the door admitted him with expressionless nods.

  He walked in and found Reiver standing in front of a large flat-screen monitor, remote control gripped in his hand. “You sent for me?”

  “Yes.” The word was little better than a hiss. When Reiver swiveled his head to look at him, his face was hard with displeasure. “I’ve been informed that roughly an hour’s worth of security camera feed from inside the club today has been damaged irreparably.”

  “Really.” Bran feigned a measure of surprise, even though he’d been the one who destroyed the video surveillance footage personally. Right after Danika’s appearance in the building.

  Reiver grunted. “What’s the use of keeping a watchdog on the premises if he isn’t aware of everything that goes on in here at all times?” He set the remote down on his desk, his movements too deliberate. Too calm to be trusted. “Did anything unusual happen today, Brandogge?”

  Bran bristled at the insulting nickname but kept his head. Just one more means of Reiver testing him, goading him to see what he was truly made of. “We had a visitor this morning,” he said. No sense in denying it; he suspected Reiver already knew anyway and was testing his loyalty. “The female from the party last night.”

  “Danika MacConn.” The sound of her name on Reiver’s lips made Bran’s pulse spike with a contempt he fought hard not to show. “I did some investigating of my own after Thane recovered a backup feed from the lobby this morning. Would you like to see it?”

  Bran gave a nonchalant shake of his head, his suspicion confirmed that he was being tested and judged. Leave it to Thane to throw him under the bus. But what was worse was the fact that Danika’s appearance at the club today had only heightened Reiver’s interest in her.

  “Apparently the meddling bitch is in Scotland only temporarily, staying at the little cottage near the river on the MacConns’ lands.”

  Jesus Christ. He knew where Danika was and how to find her. Details that could prove more than dangerous in the hands of a heartless bastard like Reiver.

  “The question is, what was she doing nosing around my place of business today?”

  Bran shrugged dismissively. “She didn’t say what she wanted, but since you saw the camera feed, you know she didn’t get far. And she won’t be coming back anytime soon. The way I left things with her, I don’t think she’ll pose any further problems for you.”

  “No,” Reiver said, all too readily. “No, I’m certain she won’t. I saw to that myself a few minutes ago.”

  All the blood in Bran’s head made a swift, cold rush into his boots. He held the flat stare of his employer, careful to betray none of the dread he was feeling. “What do you mean, you saw to it?”

  “I sent a couple of men over to the MacConn lands to look in on the woman. I’m sure they’ll be able to persuade her that she might be more comfortable staying out of my affairs. Unfortunately, Edinburgh can be a very dangerous place for a strong-headed woman.”

  “Who did you send?” The words were dry in Bran’s throat, his limbs wooden as he waited to hear the answer.

  “Kerr and Packard.”

  Two of his most brutal henchman. Where Thane and some of the other Breed males in service to Reiver were threatening in their own right, Kerr and Packard were reserved for only the ugliest jobs. They were the bone-breakers of Reiver’s stable, the ones dispatched when he wanted to make his point with someone in the bloodiest of terms.

  It was all Bran could do not to leap on Reiver and tear out the son of a bitch’s throat right where he stood. But killing him now wouldn’t spare Danika the pain that was heading her way. There would be time to deal with Reiver later—time for Bran to see his vengeance through as he’d long planned.

  Right now, all that mattered was reaching Danika.

  Before Kerr and Packard had the chance to do their worst.

  Bran cleared his throat to dislodge the icy knot that had settled there. “If there’s nothing else you need from me …”

  “No,” Reiver said, casual despite the fact that he’d issued a likely death warrant for an innocent woman. “That’ll be all for now, Brandogge. I’ll send for you if I have need of anything further.”

  Bran inclined his head, then pivoted to make his exit. Each calm stride was a test of his self-control as he made his way back downstairs and through the now-bustling club.

  He had to get out of there. He had to get to Danika, and fast.

  Hell, it might already be too late.

  As he cleared the members’ lounge and turned the corner down a stretch of empty hallway, his steps hastened. Worry and rage snarled in his gut when he thought about Reiver’s evil touching someone else he cared about. He couldn’t bite back the curse that boiled out between his teeth and emerging fangs.

  “I gather it didn’t go well.”

  Bran paused, swung a dark look over his shoulder at Thane. The guard stood behind him in the hallway, one beefy shoulder pressed against the wall, his booted feet crossed at the ankle. His expression might have been mistaken for boredom, if not for the glint of suspicion in his eyes.

  “Something went wrong with the surveillance camera feed today. But I guess you already know that,” Bran said, wrestling his concern and fury into a semblance of curt frustration. And it didn’t escape him that the best defense was often a good offense. “Thanks for not telling me that my ass was on the line with the boss.”

  “Wasn’t my place to tell you,” Thane said. “You going down to the control room to have a look?”

  “Yeah.” Bran nodded, well aware that there was a back exit to the building down there too.

  Thane started walking toward him. “I’ll go with you.”

  Bran scoffed. “You’ve helped me enough for one night, don’t you think? Why don’t you do something useful and send a few of the girls up to the boss for a while, tell them to take good care of him, make him real happy. Pick the best ones too, the ones with the most skilled mouths. Maybe if we keep him busy, he’ll lay off the rest of us for the night.”

  Thane stared at him, unsmiling. “All right, Bran. You do what you have to. I’ll handle things with Mr. Reiver.”

  Bran might have questioned the cryptic response, but all his focus was zeroed in on one task now. He stalked toward the club’s security control room, casting a quick look behind him as he neared the back exit. The hallway was empty. Thane was gone.

  Bran punched open the door and stepped into the bracing wintry chill outside. Too risky to take one of Reiver’s fleet vehicles and hope it wouldn’t be missed. Besides, he was Breed. He’d get where he was going even faster on foot.

  He summoned the speed of his preternatural genetics and vanished into the night.

  Chapter Four

  Danika got up from the rocking chair and gently placed little Connor into the nest of blankets in his crib, careful not to wake him. His face was as innocent as a cherub’s as he slept, sated from his evening feeding at her wrist. She savored these tender moments with her baby.

  Watching the small bundle nestled in the center of the delicate crib, it was easy to forget how fierce and unbreakable he’d be one day. How bold and courageous his father’s noble Breed blood would make him. In just a few years�
�� time, by the age of five or six, Connor would be old enough to hunt his own prey. A short decade more and he would be full grown, lethally so, a Breed male ready to make his mark on the world. Would he accept a civilian life, perhaps find a Breedmate to give him sons of his own and centuries of peaceful existence? Or would he follow in his father’s footsteps, pledging himself to a greater purpose?

  In her heart, Danika knew the answer to those questions, difficult as it was to accept. Each time Connor grasped her finger in his tight little fist, his innocent eyes far too knowing, too fathomless for a mother’s peace of mind, she knew. Her son would be a warrior, like his father.

  And it killed something inside her to think she might lose him one day too.

  With a soft kiss to Connor’s velvety head, Danika drew away from the crib to let him sleep. She retrieved her empty tea mug from the table beside the rocking chair, then clicked off the bureau lamp on her way out of the bedroom, her gaze lingering on her child as she quietly closed the door.

  Even before she turned around, she realized she and Connor weren’t alone anymore.

  “Nice little place,” said one of the two vampires who stood inside the living area of the cottage. “Cozy, ain’t it, Kerr?”

  “Secluded too,” murmured his companion with a leer that threatened more than simple violence.

  Her fingers tightened around the earthenware mug in her hands. There was no need to wonder how the pair got in. Locked doors were nothing but a moment’s mental effort for a Breed vampire who wanted something on the other side. As for the two thugs who dripped melting snow from their boots and dark menace from their every pore, there was no doubt where they’d come from.

  Reiver.

  For what wasn’t the first time that day, Danika regretted her visit to his private club. She was still sick to have discovered that someone she once knew—someone she had cared for—was part of a despicable organization like Reiver’s. Whatever Malcolm MacBain was calling himself now, and for whatever reason he seemed determined to deny his true identity, Danika hadn’t been fooled. Not even the scars that marred his face had been enough to convince her that he was someone other than Mal. But knowing his name and face from the past was not the same thing as knowing the man he’d become.

  And as she stood before these two terrifying intruders now, part of her wondered if it was Reiver who’d sent them or his loyal guard dog back at the club, who’d demanded her silence with a cold fury that had left her shaken to her core.

  “What do you want?” she asked them, lifting her chin to face this threat, even though her legs felt like sand beneath her.

  “Mr. Reiver asked us to come and see you,” said the one named Kerr. His big hands were gloved in black leather, sinister mitts that looked large enough to crush her skull. “He wants you to know there’s a storm could be heading your way. He thinks it best if you don’t stick around to see it arrive.”

  “Is that right?” As the pair of them stalked toward her, Danika edged away from the bedroom door where Connor slept. Whatever might happen to her tonight, she didn’t want to give them any reason to search the rest of the tiny cottage.

  “Mr. Reiver’s of the mind that Edinburgh’s going to prove inhospitable to you if you stay any longer.” As Kerr spoke, the other thug aligned himself with the path she was subtly taking, moving so that he could block her if she had thoughts of making a break. “My associate Mr. Packard and I are here to help you. Come with us now, and you can avoid what’s sure to be a very bad situation.”

  “A painful situation,” added the second vampire, his lips splitting in a chilling grin, baring sharp white fangs.

  Their minds were black with awful intentions, thoughts so brutal she found it hard to breathe as she watched them close in further. She didn’t need her extrasensory talent to understand that the odds of her surviving this confrontation weren’t good. Even if she agreed to go with them and swore never to speak Reiver’s name to another living soul, she knew the trip would end with her death.

  The idea of Connor being left without his only parent or, worse, dragged into this impossible scenario along with her was more than she could bear. She flung the heavy mug at Packard and bolted into action in the instant his attention was diverted.

  The kitchen was only a few feet away, but she barely made it there before Kerr was on her with hard, punishing hands. She fought his bruising hold, crying out as her skull knocked sharply against the unforgiving edge of the stove. Her arms swung out, hands flailing, scrabbling and searching for any means of defense.

  As she struggled with Kerr, Packard came at her now too. He tossed off his companion with an otherworldly growl. “Leave her to me,” he snarled, fangs dripping saliva, eyes wild with amber fury.

  Danika fumbled in a blind panic, hissing when her fingers brushed the hot copper of the teakettle. It was heavy with water on the stove, still scalding from the tea she’d made a short while ago. She grabbed the handle and swung it at Packard with every ounce of strength she possessed.

  He howled when the pot connected with the side of his head. Hot water exploded from out of the spout and the opened lid, dousing his face and neck. A nasty gash bled at his temple. He wiped it with his fingertips, then pierced her with a murderous glower. “You’ll pay for that in shredded pieces, bitch.”

  Danika backed away in utter terror. She had nowhere to go, nothing else to use against them. No hope of anyone hearing her screams.

  Packard wheeled on her like an animal moving in for the kill. He lunged, and Danika closed her eyes. She waited to feel his huge body collide with her, but in the next instant the entire cottage seemed to erupt into total chaos.

  Cold air swept in from outside in a frigid gust. And with it came a dark shape, moving so fast she could hardly register his movements.

  It was Malcolm.

  Danika watched in stunned disbelief as he leapt on Packard and slashed the vampire’s throat open with the edge of a wicked blade. The guard went down in a bleeding heap, and then it was Kerr who felt Mal’s fury. The fight was swift and brutal, fists and knives and flashing, deadly fangs. When it ended, Malcolm’s breath was sawing from between his lips, his eyes throwing off fierce sparks as he let go of Kerr’s dead bulk and stepped over the body like forgotten rubbish.

  “Malcolm,” Danika whispered, aware only then of the shudders that were racking her from head to toe where she stood.

  In the hard, heavy silence that followed, a muffled cry rose up from behind the closed door of the bedroom.

  Mal’s wild gaze narrowed on her. “You have an infant?”

  “My son, Connor.” Her eyes were moist, her voice choked with fear for what might have happened to them. Might still, if the searing look Malcolm pierced her with was anything to go by.

  He raked a hand over his scarred and grizzled jaw, then expelled a vivid curse. “Get the child, Dani. It’s not safe for either one of you now.”

  * * *

  Two of Reiver’s guards were lying lifeless in pools of blood inside the cottage.

  A widowed Breedmate with an infant son—the family of his one-time best friend and a member of the Order besides, for fuck’s sake—were waiting in the dead men’s car parked behind him near the end of the snowy driveway.

  And in his hand, a locked-and-loaded pistol aimed at the front window of the small guest house several hundred feet away, its chamber ready to release a hail of rounds and ignite the stream of gas that was leaking from the pipe he’d disconnected on the stove.

  Bloody hell.

  He’d spent half a goddamn year serving a criminal he hated with every ounce of his being, hiding who he was, burying his past and the future yanked out of his grasp, all for one purpose: so he could prepare for the ideal moment when he could take Reiver and the rest of his untouchable cronies down in one fell swoop.

  Only to risk throwing it all away, right here.

  Malcolm MacBain exhaled a low oath in rusty Gaelic. Then he pulled the trigger and turned to stalk back to th
e idling car.

  Glass shattered behind him. An answering vacuum sucked in some of the chill night air from around him as he walked, pulling with it a flurry of snowflakes that danced on the Highland breeze.

  The world went quiet, but only for a second.

  Then the cottage exploded and the ground beneath his boots shook with an earth-rattling boom.

  Malcolm felt the destruction in his bones. He saw it reflected in the windshield of Reiver’s fleet sedan, bright orange flames shooting skyward, the light from the blast illuminating Danika’s awestruck, horrified face behind the glass.

  He slid into the driver’s seat without comment and threw the car into a sharp reverse turn. As he roared away from the burning house, he felt Dani’s eyes on him. She held her baby close to her breast, shielding his head protectively with her hand. “Malcolm, what have you done?”

  “The only thing that could be done.” He kept his focus on the dark road ahead, knowing they had to get where they were going before the fireworks brought all of Conlan’s clan out to see what had occurred.

  “Where are you taking us? Why don’t you want Con’s family to know what happened back there?”

  He felt her ability prodding into his skull. He scoffed a rough curse and slanted a sharp look on her. “Stay out of my head, lass. Leave my damned thoughts alone.”

  “They’re going to worry about me. I need to let them know that Connor and I are all right—”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” His voice grated out of him, harsher than he intended. “What I did just now was buy you time. Time you’ll need to get as far away from Scotland as you can. And it will all be for naught if anyone—even Conlan’s kin—know that you and the baby are alive.”

  Danika was staring at him, shaking her head. “It’s cruel to let them think anything else.”

  “Two of Reiver’s worst enforcers are dead inside that blaze. He sent them to kill you, Dani. Don’t think for a second he won’t retaliate on you or the rest of the MacConns if he has even the slightest cause to suspect you might have walked away from this thing tonight.”