Vampires Need Not…Apply? (Accidentally Yours #4)(61)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Rage and panic, coupled with the powerful surge in energy he felt from his rather large snack, made him feel like he might actually lose his f**king mind. You will get her back. You will save Ixtab…

He returned to his seething. And glaring. And stewing. “I saved your life,” he blurted out.

“And you have my gratitude,” Margaret replied with a cold stare.

“You have a sick way of showing it. What do you want? Money? Revenge? Just tell me what the hell is going on, and I’ll get you anything you want.”

“Right now, I’d like a strong drink. Whiskey.”

Whiskey? She wanted whiskey?

He pointed toward the bar in the back of the plane. “Help yourself.”

She popped out of her seat, seemingly oblivious to the fact he might actually rip off her head before they made it Arizona.

Antonio slid his iPad from his leather backpack, mumbling furiously while his e-mails loaded.

After the attack, while his maid saw to Margaret’s “powder room” needs, he’d carefully wrapped up the tablet, preparing it for transport, and jumped on ordering new equipment to be delivered to Arizona. He calculated it would take one month to rebuild the simulator. He prayed Ixtab would be all right until then, wherever she was, because he’d never forgive himself if he lost her.

But what will happen if you open the portal again? If his father were to escape, they’d be back to square one; the demon needed a new body. On the other hand, he couldn’t live without Ixtab. He needed her. No, perhaps need was too casual of a word. A man could say he needed clean socks or a cold beer on a hot day. A man could claim he needed a good f**k or new lawn mower. Need wasn’t the correct word to describe what he truly felt. Ixtab had infused herself with his heart and soul. Without her, he felt like a hollowed-out shell of a man who might never have the urge to take another breath or fight another battle or give a shit about anything ever again in this world if he didn’t get her back. He didn’t need Ixtab. He’d cease to exist without her.

And how the hell had he been such an idiot to not see she was the one? From the moment they’d met, he’d been drawn to everything about her—sharp edges, horrible humor, the tenacity of a pit bull. Holy hell, she was magnificent. And then there was her beauty. It was hard to imagine that beneath the awful black shroud hid the most divine female to ever walk the planet. Deeply bronzed skin; full, sumptuous lips; long, flowing dark hair; and a set of piercing eyes that could stop any man in his tracks.

Christ, he’d wanted her so badly even before he’d known what she looked like, which was a testimony to the powerful connection between them. Yes, that night in Bacalar—touching and kissing her body so intimately—had been the most unexpected, pleasurable experience of his life. He could only imagine what it would have been like if they’d been able to finish what they had started. But his lust didn’t come close to the depth of emotion he now felt for her.

He’d never have another sane or happy moment again without her.

He had to get her back.

Though would she want him after everything he’d done so horribly wrong? He’d refused to listen to her countless times, he’d unjustly directed his frustration and anger toward her when she’d simply been trying to help him, and he’d thrown this other woman in her face after she’d told him about the most painful moment of her life. Then… she still sacrificed herself for him.

Gods, he was such a coldhearted bastard. He’d let his hatred for his father and fear of losing his brother consume him.

He could only hope for a chance to make amends. Yes, whatever it took, he would find a way to get her back without freeing his father. Perhaps the gods will know what to do. Because this Margaret woman sure as hell isn’t going to help me.

He looked at Margaret, who seemed lost in her own thoughts, and then at his watch. They were still two hours away. He went back to his e-mail, hoping for a short distraction. There was a note from his brother, who was on a business trip to Los Angeles and none the wiser that his life had been on the line or that their father was a demon and had been sucked into a portal. Antonio would have to explain everything when the time came.

Then Antonio saw that one of the parts he’d ordered for the circuit board was out of stock. “Son of a bitch,” he seethed. “Eight weeks for one pinche circuito!”

“I wouldn’t bother, yanno.”

He looked up at Margaret, who stared with intense dark eyes, sipping a glass of whiskey. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“The equipment can’t open the portal. It never could.”

“What do you mean?” he asked again, this time scathing.

She turned her gaze out the window.

She wasn’t going to answer.

“What did I ever do to you?” he asked.

She didn’t respond, but that wouldn’t stop him from giving her a piece of his mind.

“You nearly drove me mad while I tried to free you. Do you have any idea what I went through? Do you? I went blind. I had my throat ripped out and died. I turned into a vampire and killed—yes, killed a goddess, who, by the way, happens to be the woman I love and have now lost! Lost saving you! So if you think for one moment that I won’t hurt you to get her back, you are mistaken.”

She glanced at him, her face a vision of tranquility. “I know you won’t believe me, but Ixtab getting sucked into the portal was never part of my plan.”

“Then help me get her back. Tell me how to reopen the portal,” he demanded, standing over her.

She glared fearlessly with her deep brown eyes. “Do you think I’m an idiot? You think I’m going to tell you anything before I have what I want? I’ve waited over eighty years, watching the man I love suffer.” She looked out the window. “You’ll get your answers, Antonio, when I have justice for Chaam.”

“What if the gods don’t give you what you want?” Whatever the hell that was.

“Then it’s simple. You will not get Ixtab back.”

Like hell he wouldn’t.

* * *

Near Sedona, Arizona

Two hours later, the sky swirled with brilliant shades of blazing oranges and reds as the plane touched down just after sunrise on the dusty airstrip at the Uchben base. For a few moments, Antonio imagined it was a sign that the heavens were filled with contempt for his having let Ixtab slip through his fingers. And they had a right to be angry with him.

You fool.

The soldiers, who’d flown the plane, wasted little time ushering him and Margaret into a black Hummer and getting them to the estate a few kilometers away, situated atop a hill. Antonio had never been to this part of the country, but it looked exactly as one might imagine. Large cactus jutting from the ground like thorny sentinels, watching over miles of open sandy-brown dirt, the sharp angles of the buttes off in the distance, the straggly dry vegetation scattered across the desert floor like confetti after a big parade. Somehow the barren surroundings only made Antonio feel more anxious. This was not the sort of place he imagined his fate being decided.