Bled Dry (Vegas Vampires #3)(31)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“You, too.” Gregor raised his shot glass of clear liquid and tossed it back. He set it on the counter. “Now I’m off. I am staying at the Bellagio, if you would like to have dinner one night.”

Dinner? Corbin nodded. “Certainly.” Even though he was thinking it was utterly bizarre to receive such an invitation. He and Chechikov were not on those kinds of terms.

Apparently now they were.

As Chechikov headed for the front door, Corbin stared at him, feeling a small niggle of concern. Something was wrong. This was not a coincidence for Gregor to be in Vegas right as Carrick had won the primary and the opposing party’s candidate was set to be announced.

The bartender asked Corbin if he wanted a drink and he shook his head absently, puzzled, staring at the shot glass Gregor had used. Old habits died hard. Glancing around to assure no one was aware of him, he picked up a cocktail napkin. Wiping the rim all the way around, he folded the napkin, and tucked it into his pocket.

He might not have another opportunity to add Chechikov to his DNA database.

Nine

Ringo was pacing, strung out from the desire to get high, anxious as hell over Kelsey. No matter that he had never intended to come back for her. Now that he had, she wasn’t there, and it worried him. He had returned to their room to get her after stopping at a restaurant and tossing back two shots of whiskey. It hadn’t decreased his urge for something harder, something like what Donatelli had had in that cup. Heroin.

But the alcohol had made him bold, reckless. Desperate to get rid of the urge swirling inside him, he had fed four times, straight from the source, sucking his victims hard and fast, taking more than he should have to finally feel full. It hadn’t worked, and he’d left four women dazed and disoriented in Central Park. It had made him feel guilty, which had pissed him off, and when he had returned to their crappy motel room and found Kelsey gone, he swiftly shifted his anger to her.

She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without him. This was why he hated dragging her around with him, like a f**king anchor around his neck. And where was the gratitude? He could have just left her, yet he’d gone back for her, and this was what he got? Shit. He had been just fine on his own, without all these complications. Pain in the f**king ass, that’s what she was, had been since the first time he’d met her. He didn’t know why he put up with her, didn’t know why he kept her around, why he risked his neck for her. Didn’t know why the hell he was worried about her.

Because she was a freaking fruitcake, that’s why, and for whatever weird-ass reason, he cared about her. And damn it, he hated that. Hated it. He didn’t want to care. Or worry. Or regret that he could never be the kind of man who would be good for her.

Ringo ripped the lamp off the nightstand, its cord tearing out of the socket, and tossed it against the wall above the dresser, where it shattered with a satisfying smash. He sent the other one flying after it. And pitched the ice bucket onto the floor. He was pulling out dresser drawers one by one and stomping them into bits with his boots when the door opened and Kelsey came in. The sight of her, safe, a frown on her beautiful face, filled him with relief and renewed rage.

“Where the f**k have you been?” he demanded, splintering wood beneath his feet with a sickening crack.

Kelsey came over to him in a rush, her hands fluttering out. “Ringo, stop that. We can’t pay for that.”

“So. What.” He reached for another one.

Kelsey grabbed his arm to stop him. “Baby, what’s the matter?” She stroked his skin, her voice soothing. “I’m sorry I left… I hope you weren’t worried. I just went to feed. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be gone, since you didn’t leave a note or anything.”

A note? Now he was supposed to leave a f**king note whenever he wanted to go anywhere? “You should have done what I told you to do and stayed here. You never listen to me, Kelsey!”

She moved in closer, sliding her leg along his, wincing like she’d felt a sudden pain. “Shh… yes, I do. I listen to you. Don’t be mad at me, baby. You know I only want what makes you happy. I’m sorry.”

Her lips were on his ear, hands moving over his arm, his chest. Ringo stood still, breathing hard, his anger untamed, anxiety and urges rising hot and fast and sick inside him. He felt out of control, and he worked to regain a semblance of it.

“Get away from me,” he said, very carefully.

“Oh!” She made a sound of pain, and pulled back, tears instantly in her eyes.

“We’re leaving here tonight,” he said. “We’re going back to Vegas.” It had been a mistake to leave in the first place. It was too soon. He wasn’t ready. He had f**ked up his meeting with Donatelli, shown him he was still vulnerable. If Donatelli wanted to play, let him contact Ringo. He wasn’t going after him again.

“I don’t want to go back to Vegas. Everyone there is going to be mad at me. I didn’t give Mr. Carrick two weeks’ notice.”

Kelsey looked scared, her arms wrapped around her middle, hidden in the bulky sweatshirt she was wearing. That was his sweatshirt, he realized. And he hated that he liked that she was in his clothes, hated that he liked the fact that she stuck with him, and hated that she looked so damn cute. Hated that she gave a crap about that pu**y Carrick and her stupid job for him.

“You should have thought about that before you ran off and married me,” he said ruthlessly, tossing the still intact drawer in his hands back onto the dresser. “Now we’re going back and you’re just going to have to deal with it.” He was testing her, certain of what she’d say. “Unless you want to call it quits right now. Tear up the marriage certificate and go our separate ways.”

Her eyes widened, her expression softened. “Why would I want to do that? I love you.”

Then she was a fool. But he had known that all along. And he knew, even if he couldn’t say it out loud, that he loved her, too, which really sucked.

“Are we leaving right now?” she asked, slowly bending over and gathering up the wood pieces and stacking them neatly by the garbage can. “I can pack our stuff in ten minutes.”

Ringo rubbed his forehead. “Don’t do that. Leave it there.”

“It’s no big deal, I’ll be finished in two seconds.”

“Get up!” he shouted, angry at the sight of her picking up after him.

She quickly stood up, wincing again. “What?” she asked, confused. “What is your problem? Someone needs to clean it up.”