Darcy hung onto the bars, her hips jolting, until her o.r.g.a.s.m hit-an explosion of sensation that tightened her v.a.g.i.n.a and seared the breath in her lungs.

Quentin was right there with her, his steel rod pistoning, hips slamming against her b.u.t.tocks, his hands squeezing her a.s.s in a bruising grip-and then he released a roar that should have rattled the windows.

Feeling him slow, Darcy gasped, her breath hitching on a burst of laughter. "I'll have to check the shingles on the roof in the morning."

Quentin collapsed against her back, taking them both to the mattress. "Madam, will you ever let me have the last word?"

Quentin stirred three teaspoons of sugar into his tea and ignored the amused smiles from his two companions.

Seated around the kitchen table, the three vampires took turns yawning sleepily.

Emmy stretched her arms above her head and giggled. "Well, I'm going to say it. No, Dylan, I know you think it's impolite to comment, but I swear Quentin shouted loud enough to wake the dead last night." She ignored Quentin's scathing glance. "What on earth did she do to you? I think I could use some pointers."

Quentin remained tight-lipped. His dignity demanded he keep mum. After all, Darcy's "pointers" were the culprits.

Dylan cleared his throat. "Speaking of your tormentor, where's Darcy gone off to?"

"She left a note. Said she'd stop by the house after dark and give us the scoop." He didn't add that he'd been too caught up in s.e.x-play the evening before to let Darcy tell him the latest developments in the case. How the woman managed to distract him was too bruising to his ego.

"Quentin..."

Emmy's voice held a tentative note that snagged Quentin's attention from his cup.

"Darcy told me last night that she's thinking of becoming one of us."

Quentin's chest warmed at the thought that Darcy was seeking advice. It meant she was seriously considering his offer. "I've asked her to think about it."

"It's not a good idea," she said quietly.

"I know the procedure is dangerous, but I have done it before. If she wants it enough, I'll do it for her."

"You mean if she wants you enough," Dylan murmured.

"Well that, too."

"I think you should wait," Emmy whispered, her face reflecting sympathy.

Quentin stared. Something was wrong. "Was your experience so terrible?"

"You know I didn't have a choice, but no, it was less frightening than the alternative. But that's not why I'm asking you to wait."

A sick feeling of dread descended, weighing on his muscles. "Well then, out with it, Emmy."

"You can't turn Darcy. She's pregnant."

It was early evening, and the sun still winked on the edge of the horizon. At the gate guard's direction, Captain Springer, Max, and Darcy exited their unmarked squad car.

"I have to take your weapons," he said, his expression unapologetic. "Mr. King's orders."

At the captain's nod, Darcy reached beneath her jacket for the Beretta holstered at the small of her back and handed it to the guard.

Max pulled a gun from his ankle holster, but merely shrugged. "I knew he'd shake us down."

They were instructed to leave their car inside the gate and walk to the front door. The house was split-level and long. The grounds were lush with vegetation. A flagstone path led to the front door where another guard held it open for them to pa.s.s. "Go straight back to Mr. King's office."

The interior of the house was more impressive than the exterior, if the long corridor they traversed was any indication of the rest of the house. Dark wood floors, white stucco walls, and high ceilings were enhanced by a large, heavy oak armoire and high-backed leather chairs. At the end of the corridor was an open door.

"Drugs sure pay good," Max said beneath his breath, halting in front of a large display case filled with baseball memorabilia. "d.a.m.n, he's got a signed Sosa game ball."

Darcy gave him a gentle shove to keep him moving toward Rupe King's office. As they neared the door, a large man with the shoulders of a linebacker held it for them, indicating they should pa.s.s. After they filed in, he stepped out and closed the door behind him. Darcy had no doubts the bodyguard would remain just outside the door in case Mr. King needed him, and the bulge she'd detected beneath his vanilla-colored suit jacket had certainly been a gun.

"Come in, come in," a low, melodic voice, with a hint of Jamaican accent, beckoned them deeper into the room.

Darcy turned to see a tall, thin man wearing a long-sleeved linen shirt rise from behind his desk. His hair was close-cropped, his face a dark ebony, his mouth wide, and his dark brown eyes were wary.

"Mr. King?" the captain said.

"Indeed." His gaze swept over the three before resting on Darcy. "You and your people may take a seat here." He indicated a brightly upholstered couch and two armchairs before a large picture window that looked out into the tall pines in the back yard.

Her two a.s.sociates took the armchairs, which left Darcy sitting on the sofa with Rupe King.

A long silence pa.s.sed, and then Captain Springer cleared his throat. "Mr. King, you contacted our department regarding a man who approached you with a business proposition."

"A vampire!" Rupe King's lip curled in a sneer. "A G.o.dd.a.m.n vampire wants a share in my operation. I'd as soon f.u.c.k with the devil himself."

"This particular vampire is of interest to us. He's responsible for numerous deaths of young people here and in Seattle, where his string of murders originated."

"His name be Nicolas Powell." Rupe all but spat the name. "And I, too, have particular interest in this vampire."

The captain's expression became intent. "I understand you recently lost your brother."

"Yes. One of Nicky's minions devoured him before his companions' eyes." Rupe King's eyes held a bitter rage. "I will see my brother avenged, whatever the cost."

"We had a confrontation with him a couple of nights ago. We took out his followers, but Nicky gave us the slip. He's wary of us now. We need a way to set a trap."

The Jamaican's eyes glittered with interest. "I must admit that while I have a well-trained staff, I do not feel they are adequate for this challenge."

Captain Springer's chin lifted toward Darcy and Max. "My unit's been hunting killers like these for four years. We have the experience."

Rupe King gave Darcy an a.s.sessing glance.

Darcy kept her expression impa.s.sive.

"Will I be left alone, if I help you get him?" the wily drug lord asked.

"For the duration of the op, yes."

Rupe King relaxed against the sofa. "I will sacrifice the shipment that arrives tonight. Two of my trusted men will be aboard the boat to act as the deliverymen-they must be mine, or the vamp will smell a double-cross."

Captain Springer nodded. "Just tell me the dock. Also, I have a vampire of my own who will help with the sting. No harm must come to him."

"Three actually, sir," Darcy murmured. "Two more came in from Seattle last night to help. Friends of Quentin's."

Captain Springer shot her a startled glance, and then quickly recovered. "The three who work for me will not be harmed."

Rupe King did not look pleased.

Obviously to him, the only good vampire was a dead one. Only a week ago, Darcy would have agreed.

But, the drug runner wanted one particular vampire very badly. "So be it," he said with a nod.

While she heard Rupe and the captain finalizing the details, Darcy's tension grew. Things were heating up fast. Tonight, they'd trap a killer, and Quentin's mission would be over. And she still had a choice to make. Leave the life she'd built for herself, or join with Quentin as his companion of the night.

On one hand, she had a career. And she'd worked d.a.m.n hard to be accepted by the guys, even earning a good measure of their respect for her fighting skills and dead aim. Although of late she'd taken hits due to her liaison with the vamp, she took great pride in what she'd accomplished.

On the other hand, outside of her work she had no life-and no one to share what she had built.

Quentin offered her an eternity of companionship and love-oh, and mind-blowing s.e.x. Although he drove her nuts with his insistence over being the master of their relationship, she relished the challenge of shaking him up. Last night's victory still had her grinning. If only inwardly.

"You will not see me again." Rupe King's voice drew her attention back. "My operation has been compromised by this business. Gentlemen, and lady, I wish you good luck this evening." He rose, signaling the end of their interview.

She stood and pa.s.sed Captain Springer, but he captured her elbow and ushered her out of the room.

When they were out of earshot of King and his a.s.sociates, he leaned toward her. "Do you think you can keep your mind on the operation, or do I need to replace you on this mission?"

Darcy's cheeks flamed. "I'm in, sir. I won't let you down."

"Inside the car, you'll have to tell me how we acquired two new team members," he said, his voice huffy.

Darcy gulped. He really was p.i.s.sed. Quentin was a distraction she could ill-afford in her line of work. After tonight, whichever way she chose, she wouldn't endanger others by her inattention.

The three retrieved their weapons at the gatehouse and headed away from Rupe's estate.

Darcy sat in the back seat, aware of Max's accusing glare in the rearview mirror. He continued to disapprove of her actions, and being in disfavor hurt her more than she was willing to admit. Max needed to get over it.

Darcy ignored him, and instead, filled in the captain on what she knew about Emmy and Dylan, which was embarra.s.singly little considering the two knew a whole lot about her-like what she sounded like when she came, and the exact shade of pink her nipples were.

"We'll head straight to Darcy's, Max. The team will be gathering. Is the van loaded up?"

"Yes, Captain," Max replied.

"Well, let's go nail this devil!"

Chapter Eleven.

Quentin sat quietly while the team entered Darcy's home.

Emmy took care of the introductions and charmed the pants off the hard-nosed bunch.

Dressed in her version of night camouflage-a wrap-around black T-shirt that exposed her deep cleavage and black jeans that hugged her fleshy derriere-Emmy drew every male eye in the room. No one seemed immune to her artless manner.

No one, that is, except Max Weir. The muscle-bound man watched her with a cynical eye. While he appeared resigned to the fact that three vamps were part of this operation, Quentin doubted Max would ever let go of his deep-seated prejudice.

As had become the team's habit, they brought food to share among the group while they reviewed what they had learned. Emmy's plate was piled high with tidbits from every dish that was lined up on the table. The woman had an appet.i.te.

Quentin's had disappeared. He felt like he was watching the group from a great distance. Since hearing Emmy's announcement, he'd been reeling. Darcy was pregnant? The child could only be Joe's. That fact ate at his gut. A child was the one thing Quentin could never give Darcy.

"Could you be wrong?" he'd asked Emmy after her bald statement.

She'd shaken her head. "Take my word for it, I can sense this. Must be the hormones or something, but I can spot a pregnant woman from a mile away."

"Isn't it too soon for you to say? Only a few days have elapsed, since..."

She'd looked at him with compa.s.sion in her eyes. "Darcy's body is already changing, Quentin."

Why hadn't he noticed? Of course, the scent of her skin and hair, and yes, her arousal, tended to overwhelm his senses whenever she was near.

A child certainly changed everything. No vamp-at least none with a conscience-would turn a pregnant woman. The results were too horrific.

Thank G.o.d, Em had noticed.

"Quentin, you aren't eating," Emmy said, taking a seat beside him. "You really should try these meatb.a.l.l.s. Phil's wife, Bets, made them. They're barely cooked-in our honor. Wasn't that sweet?" She used a toothpick to spear one of the sauce-covered rounds and popped it into her mouth. She held up another and offered it to him.

Rather than let her see how morose his thoughts had turned, he opened his mouth and accepted the offering. If Emmy sensed he was disturbed, she'd never leave him to stew in his own thoughts.

The front door opened, and Captain Springer strode inside, followed closely by Darcy. Quentin wondered why the captain had detained her. The captain's broad face held a look of determination that hardened his square jaw.

Quentin's gaze followed Darcy into the room, and then fell to her flat tummy. d.a.m.n! Something hitched in his chest. Something he didn't want to put into words.

His desire to make her his mate for eternity was slipping through his fingers. She'd been ideal-with a pa.s.sion strong enough to match his. For the first time in his undead life, he'd been ready to commit to one woman.

And now, the right thing to do would be to give her up. The sooner, the better.

But he couldn't bear the thought of letting her go.