Page 26 of Death Deals

The chime of the elevator arriving had me scrambling to my feet. Andre rose, too. A second later, the doors opened, revealing the rest of the six DeMonte men who had joined us on the trip.

“What is this?” Andre shot, his anger at the disturbance clear.

As they stepped into the room, the oldest looking of the group came forward. “We’re sorry for bothering you and your claimed like this, my Lord, but the assignment has been completed.”

Assignment?

“Andre, what are they talking about?” I asked him.

He ignored me, his posture straightening. All business again, despite the lack of shirt. “Where is he?” he asked the underling.

“In the basement, my Lord,” he replied.

“Does Hector know yet?”

He shook his head. “We wanted to inform you first.”

“Good.” He hurried to the bedroom, and when he came out, he was wearing a pair of tailored slacks and another crisp button-down dress shirt. No jacket this time, but still on the higher end of business casual. “When I reach the basement, you may tell him.”

“Who’s down there?” I asked the room, hoping someone would add me into this conversation. “What’s going on?”

Andre turned to me. “Stay here,” he said shortly. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, no. You’re not leaving me here.”

The men behind him glanced between us, eyes wide with shock. Guess they didn’t expect me to talk back to a command like that. Oh well.

“I’m coming,” I pressed and stepped toward them.

“Beloved, this is vampire business,” he whispered harshly near my ear. “It’s safer for you to stay here and I’ll return soon.”

I placed a hand on the side of his face, playing off his ‘for the show’ mantra, and gave him a fake smile. “Oh, but my love, I thought you wanted me to be at your side at all times?”

He growled, annoyed.

I patted his cheek a little too hard to be playful before walking passed his men and into the elevator. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, all the vampires pushed into the car with me. I ignored Andre’s sharp glare at me as we descended.

When the robotic female’s voice announced we’d arrived, the doors opened and we stepped into the dark basement. Carts filled with dirty linens lined the walls, and the smell of laundry softener perfumed the densely humid air. This had to be where they did all the wash for the hotel.

The only lighting came from extension cords woven through the rafters and utility bulbs that hung haphazardly here and there. Under the glow of one, a man was tied to a chair, chin down, so all I could make out was his skinny arms and spiked dark hair.

The DeMontes had kidnapped someone?

An Omari?

Andre strode over to the hostage, grabbed a fist full of hair, and ripped his head back to lift his bruised and swollen face into the light.

I gasped aloud, instantly recognizing him from the only memory I had left from my life.

“Holy shit! Ricky!”

Ricky. My friend from the bodega. The closest friend I had while alive. Right there in front of me, battered, half-conscious, and tied to a chair.

My heart plummeted.

Rushing over to him, I dropped to my knees in front of the chair and cupped his face in my hands. “Ricky! Ricky! God, please. Wake up.” I lightly hit his cheeks. His eyelids fluttered open, his gaze struggling to focus on me. That’s when I noticed his pupils were dilated.

---