As I walked the next block, I was disappointed to find Mrs. Plum wasn’t waiting at her gate, and the family’s Queen Anne-style house was dark. I checked the time, realized it was nearly one in the morning. Little wonder a human family was asleep at this time of night.
I didn’t mind getting my exercise while humans were asleep. Chicago wasn’t a quiet city, but the early hours of the morning were quieter than most. Hyde Park had houses in a dozen different architectural styles, and I liked strolling among them. It was like a catalog of houses, from a giant gothic mansion with a tower and a turret, to a low and horizontal building that Frank Lloyd Wright might have designed.
I heard a vehicle behind me, and since I’d promised to take care, glanced back. A human in a red baseball cap climbed out of a small dark car with a red pyramidal pizza light affixed to the roof, then pulled out two pizza boxes.
My stomach growled audibly, and Peanut moved around.
“No,” I said quietly. “You already ate.”
In response, she kicked my bladder. It probably wasn’t supposed to be a personal attack, but since she was the only person who’d fought me from the inside, it felt that way.
The delivery guy walked toward the house, but his toe caught a dip in the concrete. Tripped by the divot, he lurched forward, boxes flying through the air before landing with a hop and sliding across the concrete like shuffleboard pucks.
He hit the ground on his hands and knees, grimaced in pain before turning to look morosely at the pizza boxes—and probably imagining the money he’d just lost by dropping them.
Hand on my belly, I walked back. “Hey, are you okay? That was a pretty tough fall.”
“I’m fine,” he said, checking his palms before climbing to his feet, then wiping his hands on his pants. “But the pies are probably a total loss. That’s like fifty bucks worth of pizza. Clive is going to kill me.”
Resigned, he took a step forward, but wobbled on his ankle and nearly pitched forward again. I instinctively reached out to steady him, putting a hand at his elbow to keep him upright.
And was surprised when he rotated his arm to dig narrow fingers into my wrist.
Instinctively, I looked back at his face. I couldn’t see his eyes beneath the bill of his cap, but I could see his fangs clearly enough. He wasn’t a human, but a vampire.
How had I missed that?
Because, I belatedly realized, there was no magic around him. None of the intangible buzz of power that differentiated us from humans.
He must have understood I’d seen the fangs, because his grip tightened, nails nearly piercing my skin. And that made my heart hammer harder.
“Don’t feel bad if you didn’t get it right away,” he said. “I’m a Very Strong Psych. Whether or not you know what I am is entirely within my control.”
Vampire strength was evaluated in three categories: psych, strength, and strategy. I guess genetics had put his eggs in the former basket. Still, I’d never seen this kind of power before. If I’d known it was possible, I might have been more suspicious.
Because I hadn’t known or looked, this unfamiliar vampire had a fierce grip on my arm.
I might have been physically awkward. But I was a vampire and a mother-to-be, and I wasn’t letting myself or the baby get hurt.
“If you want to keep that hand,” I said, “you’ll let go of me.”
There was something dark in his smile. A cruelty that lifted the hairs on my back of my neck and had me reaching for the katana I wasn’t wearing.
“Exactly,” he said. “You have no weapon, and you’re several blocks from home.” He reached behind him, pulled a gun from his waistband, pointed it at my belly.
I also hadn’t sensed the gun, and should have been able to, but any regret I might have felt was dwarfed by the rush of rage that heated my blood as my own eyes silvered—and the fear that was a vice around my throat.
I put my free hand on my stomach, offering what protection I could, and tried to think over the drumming of my heart. I wasn’t without defenses. I was a skilled fighter, fast, and immortal, but he had the muzzle pressed against my abdomen. I wanted to reach for the gun, twist it, and switch our positions. We’d see how he liked it. But I couldn’t risk that. Not yet. I needed a distraction. And in the meantime, I’d have to bluff.
I worked up an expression of fear, let my voice shake a little. “What do you want?”
“Well, that’s an open-ended question, isn’t it? What do any of us want? Fame? Fortune? Peace of mind? I’d like all three, actually, to start. But for the moment . . .” His head shifted toward my engagement ring. “I’ll take that for starters.”
“You need money?” I asked. “I can get you money. My husband—he’s wealthy.” I watched his eyes, saw the burst of excitement that followed my offer.
So this was about money? Or Ethan’s money in particular?
“Oh, I’m well aware. I know you who are, Merit. And I look forward to talking to your Liege.” He said the word with disdain. “And, like I said, the ring makes a good start. But I’m going to need a little more than that.”
His head turned back to my belly, and fury burned through my veins like fire.
“You see, Merit, I have a plan. And that plan involves you, your kiddo, and a very large ransom.” He offered up a malevolent smile again. “Unfortunately, I owe some money to some very dangerous people. You’re going to help me out by making sure my pockets are full.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re a hot property. And you’re alone, away from home, without your weapon”—he leaned in and whispered—“and very, very predictable. You made this almost too easy.” He lifted a shoulder casually. “No one in your fancy House is going to miss the money. You’re the one percent, Merit, and I’m just going to skim a little off the top.”
A dog barked in the distance, and his fingers tightened around my wrist. “Let’s go,” he said, and turned toward the car.
Time for the distraction. “But what about the pizza?” I asked, with as much sincerity as I could muster.
“The—what?” He looked back at me, bafflement in his face.
His brief moment of confusion was all I needed.
I rotated the arm he held and jerked free, then used my other hand to strike upward against the wrist that held the gun.
Grunting, he kept his grip on it, but the strike had been enough to shift him. I grabbed his wrist, then pivoted so his weapon arm was between us and the muzzle was pointed away from the baby.
“I am pregnant, you asshole.”
He tried to pull away; he was strong, nearly pulling me over. But I’d gotten used to my new center of gravity, and I wasn’t going anywhere. I dropped one hand from the gun and slammed the flat of my hand into his back, just above his kidney. He jerked, and I wrenched the weapon away, stepped back and pointed it at him.
“Rich bitch,” he muttered, and with vampire quickspeed, shoved me backward to run past.
I stumbled, world spinning above me as I fell. When I reached out a hand to stop my fall, the gun popped away and skittered toward the bushes at the edge of the sidewalk.
Before I could lever myself back to my feet, his car was zooming away.
2
I muttered a curse as another car door slammed.
Afraid he’d circled around for round two, I glanced back. But this time, I found a friend.
Jonah was tall and lean, with shoulder-length auburn hair, pale skin, blue eyes, and features that perfectly straddled the line between chiseled and delicate.
He was captain of the Grey House guards and my partner in the Red Guard, an organization dedicated to keeping an eye on the country’s Master vampires. Given the current peace, Chicago hadn’t needed the Red Guard much lately. In the meantime, I’d been trying to fix Jonah up with Cadogan’s brilliant and gorgeous chef, Margot. The matchmaking hadn’t worked, for reasons I didn’t yet understand.
“I’m okay,” I said, but extended a hand so he could help me to my feet. I’d learned to ask for help.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I think a very poor kidnapping attempt.”
“A—what?” He looked in the direction the car had disappeared. “By the pizza guy?”