Replica (The Blood Borne Series Book 2) by Shannon Mayer, Denise Grover Swank Page B
Book: Replica (The Blood Borne Series Book 2) by Shannon Mayer, Denise Grover Swank
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Authors: Shannon Mayer, Denise Grover Swank
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table, looking into my eyes as they spilled everywhere. “One thing you must know about me, Rachel—I am a very literal man. You have just wasted two questions.”
Shit . I tried to quell my panic. He hadn’t given me any answers at all. Not really.
“Where exactly should we look next?”
He picked up a sugar packet and ripped off the top, holding it over the table for a moment before pouring it into his water.
I resisted pushing out a breath of relief.
“You need to go to Iraq. To the Lelantos facility. They are planning to conduct a field test. You’ll find answers you’re looking for there.”
Which meant I had one more question left.
“Hades, are you my enemy or my friend?”
He picked up the remaining packet of sugar and poured it into the glass, then picked up the glass and drained it dry before he smiled. “I am only one of many boogeymen in your worst nightmare.”
My breath caught in my throat. Staring into his cold dark eyes, I believed he was just as bad as the rest of them.
“What about the pill?”
He grinned. “You’re out of questions.”
My back tensed. “You said you would address the blood cells.”
“All in good time. I will give you more answers when I think you need them, but know that for now we are allies in this quest.” He got up and moved beside me, leaning over to whisper in my ear. “There is no black or white in this world, Rachel. Only shades of gray.
Then he placed an envelope on the table and walked away.
CHAPTER 9
LEA
Clouds rolled in, darkening the evening sky. Fine by me. I pulled the cowl back and breathed in the night air, rolling it across my tongue. Finding a vampire was no easy task. Even when I was actively hunting them, I would sometimes go weeks, even months between sightings.
Now I had to find one in a matter of hours.
“Scene of the crime,” I said softly. Vamps were creatures of habit, and I knew of a place more than a few of them frequented.
Amore Sangre . The restaurant had been owned by my patron, Victor, whom I’d killed for lying to me and trying to entrap me. “Ass fuck.”
I made my way to the restaurant, staying on foot wherever possible. The city no longer felt like a bustling human metropolis. More like a potential crypt with the door slowly shutting in my face.
I shook my head and pushed back the analogies.
The restaurant loomed in front of me in no time. Ten stories high, the actual eatery was on the top floor. As I slipped into the building, I faced a decision. Elevator or stairs?
My hesitation was minuscule. Stairs. Again, easier to maneuver. As I climbed, I went over in my head what we needed. The place Stravinsky had fucked off to. What he was doing. Who else was involved.
“Simple,” I breathed out.
At the top of the building, I paused and peered back the way I’d come. No sound of footsteps behind me, no scent of anyone following. But I couldn’t throw the feeling I was being watched. Swiveling around, I panned the walls for a camera. Nothing.
I pushed through the door that led out of the stairwell. The front of the restaurant was done up in lovely wood paneling and the doors were shut. I walked up to them and tried the handle.
The knob twisted in my hand and I stepped into the semi-darkness. From the right, a sharp wind blew through the windows I’d busted out the week before. Glass still glittered on the floor, and there had been no obvious attempt at cleaning up.
But the scent of cooking beef and fresh vegetables teased my nose, so someone was home and busy cooking. I headed toward the kitchen, following the smells.
A few pots clanged together, then nothing but a low muttering no one but me would have heard.
“I hate you, you bastard.”
Interesting.
Curiosity and the need for answers pulled me forward even though I knew things didn’t add up. The restaurant was obviously closed, yet someone was cooking. I paused at the swinging doors and listened.
“Damn you, Victor. I was a rising
Shit . I tried to quell my panic. He hadn’t given me any answers at all. Not really.
“Where exactly should we look next?”
He picked up a sugar packet and ripped off the top, holding it over the table for a moment before pouring it into his water.
I resisted pushing out a breath of relief.
“You need to go to Iraq. To the Lelantos facility. They are planning to conduct a field test. You’ll find answers you’re looking for there.”
Which meant I had one more question left.
“Hades, are you my enemy or my friend?”
He picked up the remaining packet of sugar and poured it into the glass, then picked up the glass and drained it dry before he smiled. “I am only one of many boogeymen in your worst nightmare.”
My breath caught in my throat. Staring into his cold dark eyes, I believed he was just as bad as the rest of them.
“What about the pill?”
He grinned. “You’re out of questions.”
My back tensed. “You said you would address the blood cells.”
“All in good time. I will give you more answers when I think you need them, but know that for now we are allies in this quest.” He got up and moved beside me, leaning over to whisper in my ear. “There is no black or white in this world, Rachel. Only shades of gray.
Then he placed an envelope on the table and walked away.
CHAPTER 9
LEA
Clouds rolled in, darkening the evening sky. Fine by me. I pulled the cowl back and breathed in the night air, rolling it across my tongue. Finding a vampire was no easy task. Even when I was actively hunting them, I would sometimes go weeks, even months between sightings.
Now I had to find one in a matter of hours.
“Scene of the crime,” I said softly. Vamps were creatures of habit, and I knew of a place more than a few of them frequented.
Amore Sangre . The restaurant had been owned by my patron, Victor, whom I’d killed for lying to me and trying to entrap me. “Ass fuck.”
I made my way to the restaurant, staying on foot wherever possible. The city no longer felt like a bustling human metropolis. More like a potential crypt with the door slowly shutting in my face.
I shook my head and pushed back the analogies.
The restaurant loomed in front of me in no time. Ten stories high, the actual eatery was on the top floor. As I slipped into the building, I faced a decision. Elevator or stairs?
My hesitation was minuscule. Stairs. Again, easier to maneuver. As I climbed, I went over in my head what we needed. The place Stravinsky had fucked off to. What he was doing. Who else was involved.
“Simple,” I breathed out.
At the top of the building, I paused and peered back the way I’d come. No sound of footsteps behind me, no scent of anyone following. But I couldn’t throw the feeling I was being watched. Swiveling around, I panned the walls for a camera. Nothing.
I pushed through the door that led out of the stairwell. The front of the restaurant was done up in lovely wood paneling and the doors were shut. I walked up to them and tried the handle.
The knob twisted in my hand and I stepped into the semi-darkness. From the right, a sharp wind blew through the windows I’d busted out the week before. Glass still glittered on the floor, and there had been no obvious attempt at cleaning up.
But the scent of cooking beef and fresh vegetables teased my nose, so someone was home and busy cooking. I headed toward the kitchen, following the smells.
A few pots clanged together, then nothing but a low muttering no one but me would have heard.
“I hate you, you bastard.”
Interesting.
Curiosity and the need for answers pulled me forward even though I knew things didn’t add up. The restaurant was obviously closed, yet someone was cooking. I paused at the swinging doors and listened.
“Damn you, Victor. I was a rising
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