Page 71 of The Vampire Kingpin
“Let him try.” Spider bared his fangs. “I’ll make his life a living nightmare. This way.”
He steered me down a narrow passage and into what appeared to be an old bank vault, complete with an 18-inch-thick reinforced concrete door. Matte-black metal boxes lined the shelves, circling a sleek gray industrial desk and a couple of rolling chairs.
Shady, a slender, dark-haired vampire I’d only met once, snapped the lid shut on one of the boxes and slid it back on a shelf, but not before I caught a glimpse of the crisp stacks of bills inside. An oil painting leaned against a shelf, and beside the laptop on the desk was a rustic wood bowl holding a fistful of uncut diamonds.
I momentarily forgot my turmoil as I took it in. “What is this?” I asked Spider.
“My office.”
“You have an office?”
“Yeah.” He nodded at Shady. “Leave. You can finish later.”
The other vampire sent me a curious look and silently obeyed.
For a few seconds, Spider and I just stared at each other. I gulped a breath, as a cavalcade of emotions slammed into me—relief, anger, a guilty sense of freedom. Troll could burn in Hades for all I cared, but Grim had been my last relative. Maybe I should be sad, but I wasn’t. Grim had sucked as both an alpha and a cousin. There was no denying the sheer weight of his constant threats and manipulations. With him gone, it felt like a heavy, suffocating blanket had been lifted off my shoulders.
Grim would’ve always been there in the background, threatening me with exposure. He would’ve drained me dry. And when he couldn’t get any more from me, he would’ve sold me out to Jared without a second thought.
I heaved a breath. “Maybe I should’ve told you about Jared,” I told Spider. “But I didn’t wanna drag you into my mess. You’ve been good to me—better than I expected. This—this time with your lair has been the best. The. Best. You and your people—you don’t know how freakin’ awesome you are. I thought the best thing I could do for everyone was keep quiet.”
Some of Spider’s tension eased. “And you didn’t trust me.”
“Not completely,” I admitted. “I had to be careful, you know? But I would’ve told you eventually.”
He lifted a dark brow.
I lifted a shoulder, let it drop. “Probably.”
He ran his hands up and down my upper arms. The adrenaline had worn off, and tiny trembles were hitting me. He frowned as I gave a shiver.
“You’re shaking.”
Velma slipped through the doorway, pale but looking better. “I hear you had some trouble with Troll.”
“I thought you were resting,” Spider grumbled, still caressing me.
She touched her bandaged shoulder. “I’m better, and I figured I should be here for this.”
Spider just shook his head. “Sit down, at least.” He nudged a chair toward her with his foot. “You, too,” he told me.
I sank into the chair next to Velma’s. Spider produced a bottle of blood-whiskey and passed me a double shot. “Drink this. You need blood.”
I accepted it gratefully, wrapping my trembling hands around it. I drained it in two gulps, relishing the burn of the alcohol and blood.
Spider took the glass. “Want another?”
I shook my head as the burn spread through me, warm and with that special energy blood imparts. The shaking was already easing.
Spider took the chair behind the desk. “Now,” he said, “tell us what happened in Vegas.”
“Before I do, there’s something you should know.” I glanced from him to Velma. “Both of you. Troll told me that someone on the inside is feeding intel to Jared Darkman.”
They exchanged a look. “Did he say anything else?” Velma asked.
“No.” I bit my lower lip. “I don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman. But I think he was telling the truth.”
Velma pursed her mouth. “It tracks. We’ve wondered ourselves if we have a snitch. If you think of anything else, let us know, alright?”
