Bled Dry (Vegas Vampires #3)(58)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Corbin wanted to kill Gregor, take his head off with one slick swipe of his sword. He could do it, and Gregor wouldn’t be able to defend himself. But that was too good for the bastard. So he sat down next to Chechikov, calmly, coldly, and listened to him hiss and spit his threats, his vile promises. Corbin said nothing, but stared out behind the Bellagio at the labyrinth of Dumpsters and employee parking lots, the reality behind the illusion of the casino, and waited.

And when he saw that Chechikov’s neck had healed sufficiently, and he was starting to move restlessly on the truck, testing his healing bones, Corbin reached into his overcoat and pulled out his portable lab kit that he carted everywhere. The kit in which he had stored his triumph, his vaccine. Loading a syringe, he plunged the needle into the vial and withdrew the clear liquid.

Gregor was coughing, but still managed to say, “What the f**k are you doing, you French pu**y?”

Corbin turned and ripped Gregor’s sleeve up. There was a plump, rich vein hovering right at the surface of his inner elbow. Waiting for him. Perfect. This was the best solution, the most logical way to protect Brittany and the baby.

So he pricked Gregor with the needle, and injected him with the vaccine that would suppress his vampirism virus and essentially return him to mortal.

“Have a nice, long recovery, Gregor,” he said, tucking the syringe back in the carrying case. “And stay the hell away from my girlfriend.”

He walked away with Gregor’s groans of agony ringing in his ears.

Sixteen

Ringo only vaguely remembered entering the Ava, Carrick’s casino. He had been flying at the Bellagio after he had picked up the girl for Donatelli, but it was vague after that. He thought maybe he had slept, and he’d woken with a serious erection and an anvil of guilt pressing down on him.

So he must have decided to look for Kelsey, and when he hadn’t found her at the Hilton—in fact, had discovered she’d paid their bill and checked them out—the Ava had seemed the logical place to look next. But he had gotten distracted by the blackjack table, and the fact that he had cash in his pocket from the job.

It wasn’t with a lot of surprise, though, that he saw his wife slide into the chair next to him, her lips in a straight, angry line. She always had a way of turning up.

“Hey, babe,” he said, giving her a smile. She really was pretty, his wife, her hair glossy and smooth, complexion flawless. “I was looking for you.”

“Obviously very hard,” she said.

Was that sarcasm? Kelsey didn’t do that tone with him. Ringo didn’t like the frown on her face so he nudged her with his knee and smiled.

“This is where we first met,” he said, throwing his hand out so far, he accidentally hit the woman next to him. “Sorry.” He leaned back toward Kelsey. “Isn’t that romantic?”

“How much did you have?”

Six, maybe seven glasses. He wasn’t sure, really. And it was better not to piss her off when he was feeling friendly, horny, ready to make nice. “Not much. And that was an accident.”

With a sigh, she glanced at the table. “I have a room upstairs. Are you going to come to bed?”

Hell, yeah. “Deal,” he told the dealer.

The card was flipped. “Over. House wins.”

Ringo saluted him. “Have a good night.” He lifted his cigarette out of his ashtray and smiled at Kelsey. “Lead the way, babe.”

She didn’t speak to him the whole way to the elevator, and her silence bothered him. Kelsey wasn’t the silent type. “Okay, I screwed up, is that what you want me to say? I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.”

As they waited for the doors to open, he threw his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Give me a break, Kels.” He loved the way the lights bounced and swam when he was on a trip, and he could have sworn there was a halo of light around Kelsey’s head. A f**king halo. He tried to lick it, but there was nothing there.

“What are you doing?” she said, swatting at him.

He laughed, feeling good, so damn good, he didn’t even understand it. “I love you, you know, you make me crazy, but shit, I love you. It’s like you and me, we’re both such f**k-ups we belong together.”

With a small smile, she said, “I resemble that.”

That made him laugh again, loud and full, and he gave her a nudge forward when the elevator opened. “What floor’s our room on… ”

Ringo’s laughter died out. In the mirror in front of them on the back wall of the elevator, he couldn’t see either one of them, just the potted plant on the console table behind them. Just the plant and his brother Kyle.

“Holy shit.” Ringo swung around but there was nothing there.

Looking forward, there was Kyle again, watching him steadily, carefully, not smiling. The elevator doors started to slide shut, bumping into him.

“What?” Kelsey asked.

Shaking his head, Ringo moved forward, letting the door close. He blinked hard. “Shit. Bad trip.”

That was all it was. Nothing more.

When Brittany woke up, she noticed two things immediately. She had slept for fourteen hours, since the clock in the guest room at her sister’s apartment read 2 p.m., and Corbin was sitting in a charcoal-colored overstuffed chair next to the bed, watching her.

“Bonjour. How are you feeling?”

“Stiff. Thirsty.” She smiled up at him, stretching her arms over her head. “But fine. How are you? All in one piece still, that’s good.”

“Yes, all in one piece.” Reaching a long arm, he brushed her hair back off her face. “We need to talk.”

That sounded ominous. “Okay.” Propping the bed pillows behind her, she sat up and fixed the straps on her tank top. He looked serious, and tired. He probably hadn’t even been to bed yet himself.

“Gregor is no longer a threat.”

“He’s dead?” Brittany wasn’t sure how she felt about that. There should be remorse, pity for a man who had become so twisted, but she had a hard time dredging up any sympathy.

“No. Not dead. But taken care of.” He moved over to the bed and sat on the dove gray sheet next to her thighs. “I do not want you to worry about him.”

Well, that was illuminating. If he thought she was going to leave it at that, he had forgotten what century they were in. She wasn’t the delicate little miss who couldn’t take the truth. But before she could argue the point, he continued.

“And Donatelli, in order to save his own ass, and to protect both himself and you from Gregor, has joined your brother-in-law’s political campaign. He understands that he is to have no contact whatsoever with you or the baby.”