Lacey and Lethal.

Chapter One.

Lacey held her breath. She wrapped her hand tighter around the weapon, knowing she couldn't afford to miss the target. She would only get one shot and if she blew it, it would be a deadly mistake. The wind stirred and she nearly backed away from the edge of the building. A breeze wasn't her friend.

The back door of the club swung open, hit the wall, and one of them stepped outside. He stood in the shadows, paused while the door closed at his back, and light flared from a small source. A grimace twisted her lips. Of course he wouldn't be worried about getting cancer from smoking a cigarette.

"Do it," a male voice whispered from the earpiece wedged inside her left ear. "Take the shot and bring that b.a.s.t.a.r.d down."

Her boss stating the obvious annoyed her. She'd climbed a rickety fire escape to the top of what should be a condemned building to do exactly that. She adjusted the barrel just enough to get a bead on the shadowy figure of the tall man, took aim, and pulled the trigger.

The rifle barely made a sound but she could have sworn he heard it when his gaze turned her way, as if he was curious to identify the noise.

Just before he collapsed, she glimpsed long, muscular legs encased in black leather. She shot him again in the muscle of his calf, the silvery dart visible against the black.

"Go! He's down. Move it!"

An engine roared to life and headlights blinked on from farther down the alley. Tires squealed as a van shot forward then skidded to a stop as the side door rolled open and two burly men jumped out. They grabbed the motionless, drugged man on the ground, moving fast to scoop him up and dump him inside. The driver punched the gas and the van took off.

Lacey backed away from where she'd hidden, keeping low and quiet in case the guy's friends heard the commotion and rushed out of the club. She shoved her rifle into the holster that was slung across her back. She gripped the rope she'd tied to the air-conditioning unit and jumped, praying it would hold her weight.

Her body slammed against brick but she eased her grip and quickly slid lower, leather gloves protecting her skin. She reached the ground safely, heard the roar of the engine coming at her, and turned her head.

"s.h.i.t. I hate this part," she muttered. Jeff wouldn't stop but he'd slow down. She hesitated, gauged the speed of the van and began running ahead of it, keeping as close to the wall as possible.

Fear made her heart race. The guy they'd tagged didn't live alone inside that club. If the others had heard anything, they'd be coming outside, searching for him. They could be hot on her a.s.s and she wouldn't know it until they had her. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds moved lightning fast.

She turned her head and threw out her hand when the van slowed. Matt reached from the open doorway, one strong arm thrust outward while he clung to an interior handle.

Their hands clasped and he yanked hard. Pain shot through her shoulder as she was hoisted off her feet and jerked inside the van. He released her as soon as she was inside. She landed on something soft. Something large and warm was sprawled out under her.

Her gloved hand felt crushed from Matt's grip but she flexed her fingers and knew nothing was broken. The van door slammed closed and darkness reigned as the vehicle picked up speed.

"Brace!" Jeff, her boss, yelled.

The van turned sharply, the tires protesting as the van tilted toward the left. Lacey tensed, tried to grab hold of something, but rolled and slammed into the opposite wall. A heavy weight flopped over her legs. She grimaced, her shoulder aching. The van righted, picking up even more speed.

An interior light came on. She glanced at a pale Matt and a frightened-looking newbie. She looked down while removing her gloves and cursed. The guy they'd taken was facedown now, his legs tangled with hers. She sat up to stop the rifle from digging into her shoulder blade.

"That was easy." Matt grinned.

"Screw you. Next time you can be the one who scales down a building without a safety harness and feels like a fish being yanked onto a moving boat." She rolled her shoulder. "You'd have dislocated my shoulder if you were any stronger."

A loud bang from the top of the van startled them.

Lacey's gaze jerked to the roof and she watched in stunned shock as something sharp pierced the top of the vehicle. The long blade sliced it as easily as a can opener.

Is that a d.a.m.n sword? Really?

The newbie screamed in a high-pitched girly wail as he scrambled to the back of the van. Matt kept his cool, tossing a handgun at Lacey. She caught it, leaned back flat, and began firing at the roof.

"We have a pa.s.senger!" Matt bellowed.

The sword withdrew and the van lurched wildly as Jeff spun the wheel sharply in an attempt to knock the person off the roof. Something thumped and rolled away. Lacey stopped firing, ejected the empty clip, and held out her hand. Matt threw her a fresh one. She barely caught it, slammed it home, and waited.

The long blade didn't tear through the roof again. She looked at Matt and he nodded. He gripped the side door, shoved it hard, and then dived toward the back. The door rolled open.

Lacey scrambled back against the opposite side, her gun trained on the opening-but nothing happened.

She relaxed, watching the buildings fly by as the van picked up speed. Matt crawled forward to close the door.

"I hate our job," he muttered.

"Jesus," the newbie sobbed.

Lacey held Matt's gaze. "You shouldn't have brought your brother along."

He shrugged. "We're a man down and we needed an extra pair of hands. I couldn't haul that b.a.s.t.a.r.d inside the van by myself. It would have slowed us down, and we just barely got out of there alive."

She turned her focus on their unwilling guest. He took up a lot of floor s.p.a.ce. His boots were black leather, which matched his tight pants. The jacket was black leather too-one she'd probably keep. It was kick-a.s.s, but would be extremely baggy on her much smaller frame. His hair held her attention next as she studied the long, black, silky strands that lay in a messy ma.s.s that covered his face.

"He has chick hair. It must almost reach his a.s.s." Matt snorted. "What a wuss."

She disagreed as her gaze slowly examined his broad back, trim waist and bulky, muscular thighs. He was ma.s.sive-and would be extremely deadly if the drugs wore off. Lacey climbed to her knees. She slipped her hand into her vest pocket, found another dart, and jabbed it into the guy's nicely rounded a.s.s.

"Three?" Matt crouched on the other side of the unconscious male. "Do you want to kill him now?"

"He's got to weigh close to two hundred-fifty pounds. They don't stay down long. It's not as if we could kill him with an overdose, and I sure don't want him waking up before dawn." She shuddered at the thought. They'd all be dead within a minute if that happened. It was a confined s.p.a.ce. He'd take her gun away before she could say "oh s.h.i.t," snap her neck, and make mincemeat out of the rest of the team.

"True." Matt paled further, probably thinking along the same lines.

"I want to go home," the newbie sniffed. "This is some seriously screwed-up s.h.i.t."

Matt glared at his brother. "We're at war. One of these monsters killed our mom. Don't forget that."

"What if they are following us?"

"That's why we're driving around," Matt explained. "To make certain we've lost them."

Sadness gripped Lacey as she settled down on her a.s.s. Their ragtag group was small, one of numerous teams out there trying to stop the hidden killers who stepped out of the shadows and took many loved ones. She'd lost her sister, Beth, to one of the monsters. Vampires were a menace to humans and deserved to be exterminated.

Ten minutes later, the van finally stopped and the engine died. Jeff opened the side door to examine their catch. "Good job."

Lacey avoided his eyes. She hated her boss. Jeff was a jerk but he always came up with good plans and had a knack for discovering vampire nests. Matt climbed out and both men dragged the limp bloodsucker out of the van. She followed them into the warehouse that served as their operations base.

"I want his jacket," she called out. "Dibs."

Jeff and Matt removed his jacket and hoisted the big male onto the weight bench they'd reinforced and welded with thick steel. They chained his arms and legs and stretched him out. His feet hung over the end. Chains rattled and locks clicked closed.

"You're up, Lacey."

"Great," she muttered.

Her boss shot her a glare. "My kid has baseball practice first thing in the morning and Matt has to start his shift at five. I'm not trusting the newbie alone with that thing. It could talk him into letting it go. You have no life."

She resented the reminder. "I didn't say I wouldn't stay," she muttered. "I'll do it."

The guys left, Matt taking his traumatized brother with him, and she locked the warehouse door. She removed her weapons, the rifle holster, and her vest. She turned, studying the guy in the center of the room, grabbed a chair and dragged it closer to the bench.

The control for the skylight dangled on a long cable beside her chair. She looked up to make sure the skylight was sealed, the building secure. She always worried a vampire would track them back to base but it hadn't happened so far. A quick glance at her watch confirmed it was a few hours until dawn.

Her focus fixed on the immobile guy stretched out on the bench and she rose to her feet, curious. The last vampire they'd grabbed had been unwashed, dressed as if he were homeless, and stank. This guy was well-groomed and clean.

She hesitated, but then gently brushed his hair away from his face so she could see it. The silky black strands were thick and soft as her fingers slid through them. Striking olive features were revealed, and she gawked at him. Calling him handsome would be an understatement.

"h.e.l.lo, hot stuff," she whispered.

He wasn't a pretty boy, too masculine for that with his st.u.r.dy chin, sculpted cheekbones and a plush, pouty mouth, now lax in sleep. She leaned closer and inhaled the wonderful cologne he wore as her fingers stroked his long hair. It was beautiful. Matt's "chick" comment flashed through her mind and she smirked. Nothing about this guy was remotely feminine.

What am I doing? She jerked her hand away and backed up until she reached her chair. She dropped her a.s.s onto it and hugged her chest, examining the rest of the vampire. He wore a tank top, revealing a lot of skin, bulky biceps and really broad shoulders. The thin cotton shirt stretched tightly over his torso to a flat belly and trim waist. A belt buckle of a carved wolf's head secured his black belt. Long, muscular legs stretched beyond the end of the bench.

He's got to be at least six-foot-four or five. They'd been lucky to grab one so big. He probably wasn't old either, judging by his biker apparel. Vampires tended to choose styles that reflected the era in which they'd been turned. Even the really old ones clung to small, familiar details. If you knew what to look for, there was always something. She mentally ticked off the nine she'd killed in the past three years, and all had telling signs in their attire that had hinted at their true ages.

She glanced at her watch, stifled a yawn, and relaxed in her chair. Part of her hoped he didn't wake before the sun rose. She'd open the skylight once it did to finish him off. She longed for her bed and at least eight straight hours of undisturbed sleep.

Her gaze drifted back to him and a small part of her hoped he wasn't really a vampire. It would be a shame to take out such a magnificent-looking man. But she really had no doubt of his guilt. He was a merciless, bloodsucking killer in a s.e.xy body.

She bit her lip, rolled her shoulders, and winced a little from the pain. Innocent men didn't hang out in vampire clubs, and she doubted the monsters would allow one of their victims to step outside to take a cigarette break before they drained him of his blood.

Lethal knew he was in trouble before he opened his eyes. His limbs were chained, his body immobilized. His last memory was stepping out the back door of the club to take in some fresh air...

The rest came to him quickly. He'd been shot with something powerful enough to take him down. He seemed to be uninjured, though, and was surprised that nothing hurt.

His heart beat sluggishly. He'd been drugged. The last time anyone had dared do that to him had been twenty years ago. His best friend had been there to save him that time.

Someone had captured him, and whoever it was would pay.

He listened for any sounds to avoid alerting them that he'd shaken most of the drug from his system.

He heard a heartbeat nearby and breathing that was shallow and slow. He peeked through barely slitted eyes. A figure sat slumped in a chair about ten feet away. She appeared to be asleep, so he openly peered at her.

Surprise jolted through him while he studied the la.s.s. She wasn't a werewolf or a vampire, but a human. He inhaled deeply to make sure. Humiliation was a humbling experience. He'd been captured by a wee la.s.s. His friend would laugh his a.r.s.e off if he could see how tiny she was.

His gaze left her to examine his surroundings. It looked like an abandoned warehouse. The smell of sawdust teased his nose, leaving him to guess it had once been a furniture manufacturer or a mill.

He needed to escape.

He tested the restraints on his arms and legs. The chains held but made enough noise to make him wince. The la.s.s slept on, though, undisturbed. He gathered his strength and attempted it again. Sunrise had already come. He could feel it in his bones. He strained but the metal didn't give.

Lethal bit back a curse, lifted his head, and stared down his body to see what they'd used to keep him in place. Heavy-duty chains wrapped around his arms and legs numerous times. The combination of the drugs in his system and the sun having risen left him in a slightly weakened state.

Where is Blaron? His friend had to know he'd gone missing when he hadn't returned to the club. They'd have gathered everyone to hunt him down. Lethal clenched his teeth to smother a growl while he glared at the la.s.s. Whoever she was, she had no idea what kind of trouble she'd taken on. The club would pay any ransom for his return, but she wouldn't live long enough to spend it. h.e.l.l, he didn't even want it to get that far. No one could ever discover a wee la.s.s had taken him captive. He'd never hear the end of the jokes.

He allowed the anger to build until he knew his power showed in his eyes as he concentrated on the la.s.s. The stench of human males still clung to the bench, adding insult to injury. He'd wake the female and take control of her mind, make her release him. He'd have to place a call to help Blaron locate him. It would be too dangerous to stay until sunset. Some of their wolves would have to come and move him during daylight hours.

Revenge would be sweet when he was free. His nose told him the la.s.s was type A positive. He wouldn't kill her-he never harmed women-but she would know his wrath. He'd give her a scare she'd never forget after he took some of her blood. Then he'd send her on her way with orders to never go near the club again.

First, though, he'd have to make her bring him a phone. It would only be a matter of waiting for help to come at that point.

He rattled the chains again. Her heart rate increased as she sucked in air and her head jerked up. Lethal saw her heart-shaped face and instantly changed his mind about her fate. She reminded him of an angel.

He would do more than just take a little blood. His captor was one bonny la.s.s.

Chapter Two.

Lacey jerked awake, alarmed, and nearly fell out of her chair when her gaze locked on her prisoner. A pair of intense dark blue eyes met hers. They narrowed, and she shifted her focus away from them to his straining biceps, which tested the restraints. He obviously worked out to get that kind of muscle ma.s.s. The thin material of his tank top didn't hide six-pack abs bunching from the effort.

"Don't try giving me the glow-eyes routine. Mind control hasn't work on me yet, and you're not going to be able to snap the chains. Others have tried and failed. You're not my first vamp." She doubted that he'd listen to her advice but she gave it anyway. "You all try that s.h.i.t."

"What do you want?"

His deep voice startled her. He had a slight accent, maybe Scottish or Irish. She glanced at his eyes, his features, and the long black strands of hair that grazed the concrete floor. He obviously had a naturally bronzed complexion unless he'd very recently been turned. He sure wasn't sunbathing anymore.

"How much money will it take to get you to release me?" His voice deepened with anger. "Just name your price, la.s.s."

She leaned forward, met his intense stare and licked her lips. She noticed that he glanced down when her tongue darted out but his gaze returned to her eyes. "You want to know what it's going to cost you for your freedom?"

"Yes."

"I want my sister back, you son of a b.i.t.c.h."

His black eyebrows shot up and surprise widened his eyes. "I didn't take her."

Lacey rose to her feet. "How do you know?"