Drake the Defender Read online

  “We’re going to that old coal mine,” Drake said, driving the curved roads effortlessly as he talked. “I have a feeling that the killer is somewhere near there.”

  “How do you know? Just how much of this are you involved in?” she asked. The cop in her was questioning her judgment on releasing him. He may be more involved than she thought.

  “First,” Drake said, “tell me everything that has happened. Don’t leave out any of the details.”

  “Why should I?”

  Drake rolled his eyes. “Grace—work with me for a moment. Trust me.”

  Grace hesitated only for a moment. She knew in her heart that he wasn’t the killer and if he could help her catch the criminal, she just may be able to save her job.

  “Alright,” she said. She began with the discovery of the bodies of the two women and told him everything, leaving nothing out, including Billy Ray and Daniel’s claim of the wolf attack.

  Drake listened intently, silent until she was finished. “You say there’s been a wolf sighted in the area?”

  “So Billy Ray said.”

  “Is that a normal occurrence?”

  “No. I’ve lived here all my life and never heard of one. Panthers are another thing though.” Grace wondered why he was so interested in the wolf. People were being slaughtered and he was interested in wildlife?

  Drake swung around the last curve before the pull-off to the old mine road. “I have a cell phone in the glove compartment. Could you get it for me?” he asked, turning into the pull-off.

  Grace opened the compartment and dug through some papers. The cell phone was buried underneath. The car lurched, going over a bump. Grace looked up. “Hey…” Drake had just driven through the barricade they had set up earlier to stop anyone from going up the mine road to protect the tire tracks they had found. “You can’t drive up here. You’ll destroy evidence.”

  “What evidence?” Drake jockeyed the car around a deep rut.

  “Tire tracks.”

  Drake laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you right now … the tracks are mine.”

  Grace frowned. “So you are involved then.”

  He stopped the car and shoved it into park. He turned toward her. “Ah … you could say that.” Then he reached out and took the phone from her.

  He started to dial.

  Grace felt for the door handle. Had she been wrong about Drake? Had her infatuation with him blinded her? He had just admitted that he was involved in this whole mess in some way. Had her yearning to be dominated by a man turned her mind to mush, while it set her body on fire with a passion so strong that it threatened to consume her?

  Drake began to talk to someone on the phone.

  Grace waited, her body tensed to bail out the car door. She wanted to hear what Drake was talking about before she ran. He might be talking to an accomplice.

  Drake had been in her jail cell, locked up, when Harry found Arnie.

  There had to be someone else involved.

  * * * *

  Drake noticed Grace’s change in demeanor when he had admitted to being involved. He would explain and make her understand that he wasn’t a murderer. You can’t murder someone who’s already dead. But with her ‘cop’ mind, he may have some trouble convincing her that monsters do exist and that they weren’t in closets or under beds.

  He couldn’t bear to lose her over this. Grace Shanley was one in a million and Drake meant to keep her.

  He’d make her sit and listen, even if he had to handcuff her to do it.

  John answered the phone on the other end. “Yes?”

  “John … Drake. I need some information.”

  “Colin just called. What did he mean when he said ‘you missed one’? How bad did you screw things up down there in Kentucky?”

  Drake could hear the anger in John’s voice but now was not the time to argue with him over whether he screwed up or not. “Listen, I need to talk to Eric. There’s another one down here that we missed, and there’s also reports of a wolf being sighted where it shouldn’t be.”

  “A wolf? Sounds like Eric’s assignment in Maine. Hang on. I’ll get him.”

  A moment later, Eric picked up the phone. “If you’ve got a wolf, Drake, be careful.”

  “Wasn’t that what you dealt with up in Maine?” Drake asked.

  “Yeah. The leader of the Clutch was a shape-shifting vampire. Name of Barack. He also got away from Dirk and I,” Eric said. “Barack had his sights set on Lydia. He thought he was in love with her, as if any vampire could fathom that emotion. He almost took her, too. If she wasn’t as strong as she is, he would have turned her.”

  Drake looked across the front seat at Grace.

  She was almost the mirror image of Lydia Cross, Eric’s wife-to-be.

  Chapter Six

  Drake was now more than worried. The marks on Grace’s neck showed that she’d already had contact with the vampire and that he had tasted her.

  Drake got a description of Barack from Eric, spoke to John again concerning his lack of supplies, thanks to cleaning out the car before he left the Unkindness to come down here, and also told him that his ass was out of hot water concerning the murder—for the moment. John told him that Colin carried some essentials with him when he traveled. John would contact Colin, since he was already in the area, and tell him to be Drake’s backup. John had already spoken to Colin once and had told him to standby.

  “Since when has Colin joined the fight?” Drake asked.

  “Let’s just say ‘recently’. I’ve semi-retired. We needed to add another. Colin was the most logical choice,” John said. He sighed over the phone. “You have to admit … the Unkindness has taken a beating of late. We need some new blood. So to speak.”

  Drake couldn’t agree more. It seemed that all of the Ravens were beginning to settle down and find their life partners. He glanced over at Grace. He, too, was considering it. They did need some new additions to their cause. It would be hard to risk your life with your love waiting at home.

  Grace, though, with her law enforcement background and her determined attitude, would make a great hunter herself. But Drake doubted that his heart could handle it.

  Drake let John know his plan so that it could be relayed to Colin, then hung up.

  “What was that all about?” Grace asked. Her expression was wary, her manner one of imminent escape. Drake was going to have to do some fast-talking, before she decided that he was the murderer she was looking for.

  “I can tell that I’ve put you on guard,” he said, “and yes, I am involved in part of this but not in the way you’re thinking.”

  “How do you know what I’m thinking? Are you going to tell me that you can read minds now?”

  “Actually—I can. But I’m not reading yours at the moment.”

  “Oh, give me a break,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “I’ve had a really tough day.”

  “How do you think I knew that you’ve always wondered what it would be like to be submissive to a dominant man when it came to sex?”

  * * * *

  Grace stared at him. Moonlight shining through the windshield of the car barely illuminated his features but the grin on his face said, “I know your secrets”. Heat spread through her at the thought of having a man who knew exactly what she wanted. Where to touch and where to taste—what it took to send her straight to the moon. Grace’s panties were instantly dampened, her nipples tightened as the image of handcuffs flitted through her mind.

  Stop it, she told herself. This was ridiculous. This man could turn her burners on high with only a thought. She needed to keep her wits about her.

  “You’re bluffing,” she said, chin raised in defiance at the thought that he could read her mind.

  Drake leaned forward and plucked at a strand of her hair. “Hmm,” he said, “Seems like someone was just thinking about how cool the metal of a pair of handcuffs would feel against the tender skin of her wrists.”

  Grace fought back a moan. He
could read her mind. She looked into his eyes. He winked, then let go of the strand of her hair that he had been toying with.

  “Now,” he said, “I know that you want to know how I am involved in this mess, so I’ll explain…”

  Grace leaned forward, fumbling for the pack of cigarettes that she had managed to shove into the back pocket of her pants while Drake was dragging her out of the office. They were a bit flattened, but she didn’t care. She needed nicotine. A bad addiction, she knew, but the situation called for some sort of drug and this was the only thing that she had. A valium would be nice but well … she’d never been one to pop pills. She lit up and settled in to listen, hoping that she could believe him. He was the most intriguing man she had ever met. She didn’t want to have to shoot him because he turned out to be a killer.

  “…That phone call,” Drake continued, “was to my cousin—who is the head of our family operation. We operate the Unkindness of Ravens.”

  “What the heck is that? And the ‘Unkindness’? That’s a strange name for a business.” Grace narrowed her eyes.

  Drake nodded. “An ‘unkindness’ is what a flock of ravens is called. We’re all family. All Ravens. As for what we do … we hunt vampires.”

  Grace laughed. “And you have fangs because…?”

  “To fit in. So when we find a Clutch—that’s a group of vampires—we can infiltrate them until we come up with a plan to destroy them.”

  Grace took a long draw from her cigarette. Harry’s words came back to haunt her. The stakes through the chests of the bodies, the decapitations. The strange ashy condition of the bodies of the two women. Harry had made the comment that it was much like how you would kill a vampire. Grace flicked her cigarette butt out the window. “So you’re telling me that vampires are real and this is not some off-the-wall cult or role-playing game.” She met his gaze. “That the bodies we found were vampires and you killed them.”

  “Well, I only killed one. The other two were killed by my brother, Holt.” He tilted his head. “I really don’t think ‘kill’ is the right word. It’s more like ‘destroy’.”

  “Oh, I see. You only killed one.” Grace reached for the door handle.

  Drake’s hand was around her left wrist in a heartbeat. “You’re not going anywhere young lady.”

  “Let go of me, Drake.” Grace considered pulling her gun, then tossed the idea. Inside a car, Drake would probably get control of the weapon and … Grace sincerely doubted that she could actually shoot him anyway.

  Killer or not, she knew she was under his spell.

  “I said—you’re not going anywhere. Not without me.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Grace said. Yes, she wanted to be dominated by him in certain situations, but this was not one of them.

  Drake pulled her wrist, drawing her across the front seat and away from the door. “Look, that gun of yours will not stop a vampire.”

  “There aren’t any vampires.”

  Drake shoved back her hair, exposing her neck. “These marks on your neck here—is that where a mosquito grazed you?”

  Grace felt a shot of fear course through her. Was that man who had accosted her, a vampire? He had made her feel very strange, as if she had been hypnotized. She hadn’t even tried to fight him off. The only thing that had stopped him was Harry showing up. “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Yes.” Drake released her wrist. “Your murderer … the one who killed your deputy … is a vampire.”

  Grace shook her head. “Did I tell you about Arnie? How did you know about him?”

  “I saw it in your mind.” Drake opened the car door. “Come on. We’re wasting time. He will kill again.”

  * * * *

  Barack was getting tired of waiting for Grace to return to her home. His leg was throbbing now that the healing process had finally begun. He paced along the back edge of the yard, staying in the shadows. He had begun to be concerned when his wound hadn’t immediately started to heal. Any other time that he had been wounded, his vampiric flesh began the healing process within seconds.

  But not this time. Something inside him was winding down. He could feel it, like the tick of a clock slowing. Barack considered the fact that even though he enjoyed living in his wolf form, it may have damaged his biology in some way. Altered him. Sped up the clock, so to speak. Barack knew that contrary to popular belief, vampires were not truly immortal. Their flesh could only regenerate the semblance of life so many times before the process slowed and broke down. As a vampire aged, his ability to absorb the life force from the blood weakened. After a time, his body turned into nothing more than a husk.

  He would not allow that to happen to himself. Not yet. Not before he had Grace.

  With an effort that was unusually hard, Barack incited the shift. Every muscle in his body complained as the bones realigned into that of a man. By the time the shift was complete, Barack was almost breathless.

  He stood, forearms braced on a tree trunk, head resting on them while he waited for his system to calm.

  The sound of raised voices filtered to him from the house. The two men who lived with Grace were arguing. Barack turned his head just enough to view the back of the house.

  Rogue came bursting out through the door, slamming it behind him. He strode to his car and got in, spinning tires as he flew down the driveway and into the night.

  Barack looked back to the door. The older man stood in the doorframe, holding the door open, peering out. He was stooped with age, leaning heavily on a cane.

  Barack licked his lips. He needed a new set of clothes. And he needed sustenance. Even in his weakened condition, he could easily overpower the old one.

  The old man ducked back inside the house and disappeared.

  Barack straightened and stretched. If he dispatched the old man, he could kill two birds with one stone. He could feed. And he could also rid Grace’s life of one of the men who vied for her attention.

  The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.

  He could then wait inside the house.

  If Rogue came home, Barack was sure that the young man’s testosterone-laced blood would fortify him immensely.

  And when Grace finally arrived … well … he had plans for her.

  With a deep breath, Barack started toward the house, his mouth already watering.

  * * * *

  Grace’s mind was in overload. She followed Drake up the old mine road, the only light was a silvery moonlight. She wanted to believe him but her analytical mind—the mind of a cop—was bogging down with paranormal details. She was used to normal, everyday criminals, not some monster that had risen from the grave.

  “The one that put those mark’s on your neck—describe him,” Drake said

  “Tall, well over six feet. Salt and pepper hair, very long,” Grace said, stepping over a sunken spot before she tripped. “His eyes. They were striking. The most unusual eyes I’ve ever seen. They were yellow gold. It was as if I was looking into the eyes of an animal.”

  “You were,” Drake said, taking her hand. He gave it a squeeze. “Your description matches a vampire that escaped us once. His name is Anthony Barack. He’s also a shape-shifter.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “He can change form. He changes from man to wolf whenever it suits his purpose.” Drake stopped and turned to her. “Hence, your wolf that has been sighted in the area.”

  “You know, I’m having a really hard time swallowing this whole explanation,” Grace said. She didn’t know if she wanted him to be right or wrong. If he was right, she had no idea how to handle the situation. If he was wrong, that meant he was lying. Which would mean that if he wasn’t guilty of murder, he was guilty of something. And if he was guilty, she had absolutely no idea what she would do because right now, at this moment, she wanted him to take her in his arms and ravage her until neither of them could breathe.

  Drake did pull her to him then, crushing her in his arms. “It
will all become clear,” he said as he stroked her hair. “I would never lie to you, Grace.”

  Grace closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Warmth filled her. In his arms, she felt a security that had been absent from her life. She felt safe.

  “We have to get moving,” Drake said. He kissed her on the top of the head.

  Grace looked up at him. “What do we do first?”

  Drake slid one arm around her waist as they began to walk again. “I want to check the mine. The Clutch that we destroyed was using it as their lair. That’s the most logical place for Barack to hole up during the daylight hours.”

  A short time later, they entered the mine.

  Grace wrinkled her nose. “What is that awful smell?” She gripped Drake’s hand as they moved into the darkness.

  “That’s what a burned vampire smells like,” Drake said. “Let me have your lighter.”

  Grace pulled her lighter out of her pocket and handed it to him. “What are you going to do?”

  “We need some light. Stay here.” He let go of her hand.

  Grace wrapped her arms around herself. She listened to Drake’s movements, his footsteps echoing in the dark. She hadn’t been in the mine in years. When she was a young girl, she knew this place like the back of her hand. She and her brother Chase had played here, roaming the tunnels, making believe it was a gold mine and that somewhere inside was a thick vein of gold that would make them all as rich as kings. She missed Chase. He had been a good brother.

  A flame flickered in the distance. Then another. Soon, the darkness drew back in a wash of candlelight.

  Drake walked toward her from out of the dark.

  Damn, Grace thought. He is the most attractive, seductive man I have ever seen. She felt a buzzing in her pussy, like flicking on a switch every time she looked at him.