Long Black Cadillac Read online

  He would find his sweet boy. In fact, he had a feeling this one would find him.

  REMY WOKE up with a jerk, the scent of a man in his nose, which wouldn’t be odd, except it wasn’t the boss or Boo.

  And he was asleep in the tub, so, you know. Weird. Weirdest.

  Cold water sloshed around him, and he heard the knocking at the door. “Rem! Come on, man. You can’t drown on me.”

  “Sorry! Sorry, y’all. I fell asleep while I was all soaking.”

  “Come on!” Clay whacked the door again. “How clean you need to be?”

  “It ain’t like you pee, for fuck’s sake! You’re a scary undead thing!” He hated being woke up all of the sudden.

  “Rem? You okay? Come on, unlock the door. You sound weird.”

  “I’m slipping in the damn tub. Slickery thing!” His heart was pounding hard, and he stumbled out, wrenching the door open.

  “Hey.” Clay caught him, strong arms wrapping around him, even though he was all naked and dripping. “It’s okay.” Clay leaned in, nosing him, smelling of him. “Someone in there bothering you, Rem?”

  “No. No, ain’t no one in there. Ain’t even a window.”

  “Huh.” Clay set him aside by means of lifting him by his upper arms, then moved into the bathroom. “What the hell?”

  “I fell asleep in the bathtub.” That was easy. Right?

  “Uh-huh.” Clay pulled the plug to let the water out. “We need to get moving.”

  “Sure. Sure, boss.” Sure. Moving. “I’m up.”

  “Good deal.” Clay grabbed him and kissed him soundly, rubbing him all up on that big body. Like a big animal sharing scent to claim something.

  He hummed and offered Clay his throat. “Need?”

  “Mmm. Tempter.” Clay licked him, a long, slow line that traced the big vein in his neck.

  “I need it too.” Remy knew he was begging, but he just couldn’t help himself.

  “I shouldn’t. This is Vance’s.”

  “Jus’ a nibble.”

  “’Kay.” Clay’s fangs slid through his skin, piercing the vein, and Remy went weak-kneed, the rush buzzing through him. God, that was something, that pull and rush of blood. Wasn’t like nothin’ else.

  No wonder Boo wanted to keep it all to himself.

  He clutched the front of Clay’s shirt, trying to climb the man like a pole.

  Clay grabbed his ass, squeezed him like he remembered, fingertips digging in.

  That was it. He needed boss to touch him to forget that dream. That dream. That voice.

  That touch.

  It wasn’t real. This was real as real could be, even with Boo lurking around somewhere.

  This was his boss, his good friend, his Clay. This was someone a man could look to, someone to work for and get rewarded.

  Not some dream.

  Not a fantasy.

  A boss in the hand and all.

  He chuckled, which made Clay bite down hard. Remy moaned, his body bucking, the immediate need so hard and tight.

  “Little slut.” That was Boo. The growl low, deep, and the matching bite from the man made him gasp.

  “Now, y’all….”

  “Shh.” Clay laughed. “No one will hurt you, Rem. We just need something spicy to nibble on.”

  “Weirdo.” He laughed, but the tiny spurt of fear just made everything better.

  “Just a nibble, hmm?”

  Silly Boo, always thinking. Always worrying about shit.

  “Just hush up and do instead of talking,” Remy said, rubbing his ass back on Vance.

  Vance swatted him, and they all three set to laughing.

  Lawd, he didn’t want to like Boo. He didn’t want to, but damned if the son of a bitch didn’t make him grin. Clay pulled away, licking the spot on Remy’s neck. Then he dropped a hard kiss on Remy’s mouth. He opened right on up, the dream shattering into shards of glass.

  This was solid. Needy. He looped his arms around Clay, and Vance lifted him off his feet.

  “We can take one more hour, Clay,” Vance muttered. “One more.”

  “Just one more, yeah.” Clay reached past Remy to pull Vance into a toothy kiss. “This trip is gonna fucking take forever.”

  “Shh. We got time. We got all the time, eh?”

  “We do,” Clay relented.

  Remy figured if Vance was willing to wait, they all should be, and he wasn’t one to give up anything that felt this good.

  He chuckled at himself.

  Like he’d ever given up anything that felt good.

  THE WHOLE road trip experience was a nightmare.

  Clay wanted his little house back in the swamp. He wanted his occasional foray into town to feed. He wanted poker night with Remy and his pals. Of course, most of all he wanted Vance free of this damned Colonel so they could just go off and fuck and bite and sweat and have each other for a good long while. Which was why he was in the Cadillac, somewhere around the North Carolina-Virginia line, looking for a cheap motel that would let them check in near sunrise. Again. “Wake up, y’all. I’m fixing to have to get in the trunk.”

  Vance blinked, frowned. “We need a hotel, huh? Where are we?”

  “Almost there, babe. You need to tell me where to go.” Oh, like Vance didn’t do that a million times a day.

  “Mmm…. There’s a little place right around here. Cabins. It’s off-season enough we can get one. I’ve stayed there before. Lots.” Vance pushed up into the front seat, staring in the dark. “Four or five miles up on the left, unless it’s gone.”

  “Okay.” Vance’s vision had improved. Clay wondered if the man had even noticed. Probably not, as deep as he was sunk in denial.

  Warm fingers slid on his thigh, tracing the seam of his jeans. Teasing. “Man, it feels like winter’s coming.”

  “Hmmm? You cold?” He was not so good at reading the weather anymore. Hell, he lived in the swamp.

  “Not yet, but I can smell it. On the air. There. That road.” Sure enough, there was a sign with a little cabin on it.

  “Got it.” They wheeled into the lane, heading right up to the rental cabins. “We’ll let Remy check us in, as your Colonel likely don’t know about him.”

  “Yeah. There’s a trick to the doors. Come on.” Vance nudged Remy on the way out of the door, moving like a predator in the fading night. Clay followed, prowling after Vance, all of his hunting instincts suddenly up. Jesus, would you look at that man. Vance looked back, eyes flashing, daring him, challenging him. Hell yes. He could so get him some of that.

  Like a startled fucking deer, Clay took off after Vance, ready to run the man down and eat him up. He hadn’t had a chase in too long. Vance took off like a bat out of hell, heading for the cabins, racing him and the sunlight.

  Yes. God yes. Clay sped up, his footfalls silent, his hands clenching and unclenching. He needed. He could smell Vance—blood and sex and excitement—as the man worked the door, fighting his way inside.

  He made the door just as Vance slid through, leaping, missing Vance by mere inches. Damn it. Clay whirled, reaching. Vance’s heat just escaped his fingers as Vance jumped for the bed and he followed, landing hard on Vance, the bedsprings creaking. Snarling, he bent to take his due, his teeth reaching for that fine throat. Yeah, he could hear Vance’s heartbeat.

  “No. Fucking. Biting.” Vance twisted, bringing that throat just that much closer, the struggle sweet, firing him up.

  “No. No biting.” Clay said it just before his teeth sank in, the taste of Vance exploding through him, white hot and so perfect, the slick stuff sliding down his throat.

  “Clay!” Vance’s hands held his mouth close, the life pouring into him, sweet and wild and tinged with an addictive darkness. All he had to do was turn just so, offering his own throat to Vance, letting the man have him right back. It went both ways. When Vance’s teeth sank in, something snapped into place and things went red, the pulsing in his ears so loud his brains seemed to slosh around in his skull a little. Fuck him.


  Of course, the sloshing thing could be Remy, whacking at them both with a shoe. “Boss! Boo! Y’all is gonna… I don’t know. Stop. Stop that shit right now!”

  “Jesus Christ, Rem!” He rolled, his arm sweeping across Remy’s midsection to push the kid away. He was a hell of a lot gentler than Remy was.

  A fucking shoe.

  “None of that shit! Eating each other and groaning with the sun coming up and shit!” Remy looked like a crazed gnome, jumping up and down and hollering, fingers making the thick dark hair stick up all over.

  Clay glanced at Vance. “I think he’s broken.”

  “Hey, man. He’s your lackey. I come lackeyless. Lackey free? Whatever.” Vance looked amused as fuck.

  “Asshole.” His hands landed on Remy’s hips, and Clay pulled the kid in, wrapping an arm around Remy’s waist. “Breathe, babe.”

  “It just went on and on… I thought. I just. No one could live through that.” Remy pushed close, hands mapping him, then reaching to pull Vance closer. Remy was willing to be there for both of them, sweet man.

  “Hey, man. I’m not dead. Not even close.” Vance smoothed down Remy’s hair a little.

  “See? He’s in one piece, even. Unless you whacked something off with the shoe.” Look at that Remy. He’d taken to Vance right off. And Vance liked the kid too, even though he pretended not to. But man, they needed to get Remy his own room once they got the Colonel taken care of.

  “Yeah. Yeah. I know. I just.” Remy shrugged. “Y’all are gettin’ weird, cher.”

  “We been weird from the get-go, babe.” He smiled, trying for reassuring, then gave Remy a kiss and a pat on the ass. “We need to fix up the windows.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.” Remy looked at Vance, eyebrow arching. “C’mon, you. Help me fix it up for the boss man.”

  “Don’t get too close to the windows.” Clay gave Vance a look, just making sure the man understood. The more they shared blood….

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah….” Vance stopped all of the sudden, growling low, eyes fucking glowing. “Remy. Take Clay into the bathroom and lock the doors. There’s a way into the crawlspace in the linen cabinet.” Vance slid out of the bed, snarling and keeping low as he headed for the door. “Do it, Cajun. Now.”

  Remy grabbed his hand. “C’mon. C’mon, boss. Hurry. Hurry.”

  Oh hell no. “Go, Rem. I’m not letting him do this alone. No way.” He could feel the sun trying to find its way into the cabin. And he could hear… something. Something Vance knew, but he didn’t.

  “No. No, boss. He’s got a chance still, with the sun. You ain’t. Come on. Come on, now.”

  Vance turned toward him, muddy eyes blazing. “They’ll kill him, Clay. Make him scream first. I’ve got a chance. Go.” Vance pulled out a pair of pistols, scarred skin straining over the tense muscles. “Now, man. It’s time to be the good guy, huh?”

  His gut churned, but goddamn, Vance was right. Remy didn’t stand a chance. He was only fucking human. Vance could stay alive until Clay could get back to him. He hoped. He gave one short nod and whirled away, hauling Remy under his arm like a football.

  Goddamned asshole had better stay alive.

  Clay had plans for him.

  Remy got the doors locked, and Clay climbed up, pushing at the door to the crawl space. He pulled himself up and reached for Remy when the whole place shuddered, the sounds of bullets making his ears ring.

  He wanted to move, wanted to go back down there and make the bastards pay. But he couldn’t. The sun would be pouring in the door, and he had to protect Remy. Had to.

  “He’s strong, boss. He is. You don’ worry. He’ll be down there screaming for me to get the car, you watch and see.”

  Not looking at Remy, because he didn’t want the kid to see his glowing eyes and bared teeth, Clay nodded. Then he pulled that warm body into the cradle of his, hiding Remy from any danger. “We’ll get him back, babe. We will. Now we just have to stay still and quiet. All right?”

  “Like little mice.”

  “Yeah. Mice in the attic.” All he could do was close his ears and try not to think about what Vance might be going through.

  Night would fall. And then Clay would go on the hunt. He had every intention of getting Vance back. And of tearing those men with guns into tiny pieces.

  He did love a good plan.

  PAIN.

  Fuck.

  Pain.

  Vance growled and snapped at the air, the lights burning the living fuck out of him. Out. Out. Out.

  Out.

  Chains rattled above his head, his shoulders screaming as he pulled.

  Fuck.

  Somewhere floating high above he sensed voices, the slow, heavy drawl he’d heard on a hundred jobs, but he couldn’t really make out the words. A booted foot nudged his legs, prodding him, poking hard.

  He snarled, biting at the air, his blood burning in his veins. Out. Let me out.

  A full-on slap rocked his head back. “None of that, boy.”

  He focused, blinking at a jowly fat fuck with little eyes and a mean-assed smile. “Hey. Hey, boss.”

  Fuck him raw. The Colonel had him.

  “Seems you forgot who was boss, didn’t you, boy? Seems like you just couldn’t get the job done. Not even when I sent you reinforcements.”

  “He…. He fucking stopped eating, you fuck.” Shit, he hurt, and he needed fucking off this wall. “You don’t pay me enough for this shit.”

  “I’m not paying you for anything anymore. Now, tell me where the fucker is.” Another blow rocked his head back, slamming it into the wall behind him.

  “Go to hell, man. He’s gone.” It wasn’t true. He could feel Clay, growling in the base of his neck, rumbling low. Hunting him. God, he needed Clay to come find him once it was dark.

  “No, son. He’s not gonna give you up. Not even close.” Another slap, this one from one of the Colonel’s fucking dogs.

  Vance snapped, reaching out to bite, jaws clamping on the fuckhead’s arm. Blood rushed into his mouth, and he damned near screamed with the rush of heat and strength. Shouting, running feet, exploding pain in his head. He had it all in seconds, something blunt and heavy smashing into the side of his face.

  He heard the bones cracking, felt shit give way in a rush. Oh. Man. That. Yeah.

  His legs gave way as well, the chains holding him up.

  “I wasted a lot of money on you, son. You were one of my first boys. My first success.”

  The words were there, but they didn’t make sense. He was no one’s boy. Period.

  A line of fire crackled across his chest, the glint of a knife right there in front of his eyes. “Where. The fuck. Is he?”

  “F… fuck. Fuck off, you smarmy asshole.” He’d been cut by better. The Butcher was a pro compared to these dicks.

  “Oh, son. You have no idea what I can do to you. None at all. Not now.” Looked like the man was gonna try to show him, though. Or at least the lackey was. How did a guy get a lackey, anyway? Why was he the only guy without one? Clay had Remy….

  “B… b… bring it on.” His eyes rolled like dice, pain just flooding him. “You best pray you kill my ass before I get loose, boss. I… I’m gonna rip your throat out.”

  “You’ll try, boy.” The Colonel hauled back and kicked him before backing away. “Find out where that damned vamp is. Kill them both.”

  “You got a hard-on for him, man? You ain’t his….” He coughed, a gout of blood spraying on the Colonel’s face and shirt.

  He could barely see that face, turning to stone as the man looked down at him. “No. But you’re mine, Vance. You always have been. And I’ll see you dead. Get my car, James.”

  Home, James, huh?

  Fuck him raw.

  GRYPH WAS back at the Colonel’s. Something was coming, and this old bastard was moving out, clearly knowing something Gryph didn’t know. Still, information was power, and Gryph was all about that power.

  He strained to hear the workers who were packing the
car. They were the ones who would tell tales. The gossip always happened at the lowest level.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Rumor is there’s a monster down there. Like a real monster, with fangs and glowing eyes. They’re going to kill it. The big guy doesn’t want to be here when it happens.”

  “Yeah, he likes to keep his hands clean. Rumor is he’s making some kind of super soldiers.”

  “They say the South will rise again or some shit.”

  Mmm. Gryph very much doubted it. A bunch of undereducated idiots with beer bellies…. Doubtful.

  Still, he didn’t need a monster in his territory, dead or otherwise. In his experience, monsters tended to forget to stay down.

  Where was the man going? Hopefully far enough to be less of a bother, but he would come back…. No one completely deserted an estate like this.

  Maybe Gryph ought to just kill him….

  Either that or burn the estate to the ground. That would be entertaining.

  Then again, if whoever was supposed to be coming to him got wind that this Colonel was dead, they might not arrive. That would never do. His little love was an addiction.

  Gryph hadn’t felt a connection so strong in eons; it tore at him, made him ache.

  It made him hungry.

  He snapped his fangs against his lower lips. Maybe he could just take one of the lackeys. Just a snack.

  No one would ever know. Not even the snack.

  Gryph slipped closer to the house, to the cars, sending a silent call to the smallest man, a dark-haired, rough-hewn type who looked the tiniest bit like his new love.

  The man’s head tilted, and Gryph could smell his arousal. Mmm. Here kitty, kitty.

  He waited just around the corner, willing the others not to notice when their friend disappeared. Just a nibble. A deep drink. Nothing damaging. He wouldn’t even remember anything but a dream.

  The man appeared like magic. Magic. Heh. Reaching for Gryph, the fellow stumbled right into his arms.

  “Mmm… hello.”

  “H-hey.” The man didn’t even hesitate; he just lifted his chin.