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  We waited in blessed silence for our bags, a silence Baxtard tried to break more than once. I ignored him in favor of surveying the other passengers. Across from the baggage carousel, two men lounged against the wall. Wide Slavic-looking foreheads, dull blue eyes, and drab, poorly tailored black suits. I easily pegged them as flunkies of the Eastern European syndicate, the real monsters in this scenario, the utter tossers. They’d done their best to blend into the gray concrete bricks behind them, a task they failed miserably at. They looked everywhere but directly at Baxtard and me. Too bad darting eyes and furtive glances were dead giveaways.

  I pointed out my case to Baxtard. “Would you mind?” I let my gaze roam casually around the claim area while he retrieved our belongings. Bags in hand, we headed to the arrivals hall. Casting a glance over my shoulder at Pete and Re-Pete, I winked, challenging them to follow.

  With Baxtard trailing at a respectful distance, and the goons sauntering oh-so-nonchalantly after us, I walked out the sliding doors. Petrol fumes burned my nose, and the humidity instantly beaded up on my arms, thanks to my lower than normal skin temperature. All discomfort disappeared the moment I spied the powder-blue Aston Martin. Mmm, T had approved the rental of my favorite Vanquish Volante model. Was this her guilty concession for forcing me to work with a trainee?

  Didn’t matter. The convertible top was already down, and a gentle breeze stirred the palm fronds lining the roadway.

  A uniformed attendant with burnished copper skin standing next to the vehicle bolted to attention upon my approach. “Ms. Bond?”

  “That’s me. She’s a beauty.” Trailing my palm over the sleek door, a wave of pleasure swept through me. I accepted the key and popped the boot.

  The attendant picked up our luggage and stowed it in the compartment. With a gentle shove, he latched it shut then scuttled around to assist me behind the wheel.

  The supple leather dash demanded a reverent hand. A low hum built in my throat. The attendant held the door for Bax, who started to climb in.

  I stopped him. “Will you tip the man, please?”

  With lips pursed, Bax dug into his wallet and pulled out a folded note. Tsking my tongue against my front teeth, I plucked out two more and tucked them into Duet’s fingers, pushing it toward the waiting hand of the car deliveryman.

  “Jayne—”

  “Maybe T was right,” I said, pulling an utterly fake sweet smile.

  Looking dumbstruck, he climbed into the passenger seat. “About what?”

  “We might make a good team.” As long as he did exactly as I said and curbed his penny-pinching inclinations. “Get a notepad, guppy. I’m about to commence mentoring. Number one, you do not insult anyone by offering a chintzy tip. Go big or go home, Duet.”

  “But we’re on a per diem for this trip.”

  “Maybe you are, but I’m not. Now, buckle up. It’s going to be a wild ride. I want to see what this baby has.” I revved the engine, enjoying the purr of power under my bum.

  Almost as good as sitting on Lucien’s lap.

  The island roads were narrow and curvy, and I drove faster than the posted speed limit. After all, speed limits were only goals the government set for you. I always exceeded my goals. Wind whipped over the aerodynamically designed windscreen. One hand on the wheel, I rested the other on the door panel. Each time we careened around a sharp bend in the road, Bax clutched the oh-shit handle. Under the tropical sun, his skin instantly pinked.

  My own flesh turned a healthy shade of rose. Not all vampires were Nightside only. Those poor arseholes were limited to walking about only after the sun went down. Fortune had smiled on me, and when I’d been turned, I became a Dayside vamp. Popular novels like Stoker’s Dracula implied daylight would kill a vamp. But Stoker hadn’t guessed about vamps like me. Sunlight wasn’t a problem for us, and definitely not in the age of SPF50. No spontaneous combustion, not that bursting into flames was actually ever a thing. I couldn’t be sure where that rumor had started. The worst that happened was a case of severe sunburn. And melanoma couldn’t kill the undead.

  However, holding onto a tan was problematic. Within an hour of coming indoors, my skin faded to pale alabaster again.

  Palm trees lined the drive to the luxury resort where we’d booked rooms. The roadway was paved with quaint red bricks, probably some brought over as ballast blocks on the original HMS Bounty. The lane curved until we reached a circular drive, a massive fountain in the center, the ornate entry doors to the hotel directly opposite. A valet in khaki livery with black and gold epaulets stepped forward as I braked to a stop.

  Climbing from the car, survival instincts I’d honed over the past century forced me to survey my surroundings. The Volante chirped when I pressed the button on the fob to pop the boot. A late model SUV idled just beyond the circle drive. Despite heavily tinted glass, I knew there were two men inside. I heard their heavy heartbeats. Surprisingly, Pete and Re-Pete had kept up with the pace I’d set.

  I tossed keys to the attendant then sashayed into the lobby. My sky-high heels clicked smartly on the elegant terrazzo floor as I made my way to the concierge desk. Unfortunately, Bax’s Italian loafers scuffed indecently. Mentoring lesson number two might have to be pick up your bloody feet when you walk. Something his parents should have taught him ages ago.

  “Good afternoon, miss. Checking in?” The desk attendant’s name badge read Fletcher Christian. Not surprising, given the island was populated with descendants of the Bounty crew. Those bad boys. I’d never known them, but Drax had and willingly shared stories of their exploits.

  “Bond. Jayne Bond. I have a reservation.” I gazed around the ornate lobby. The Louis Quatorze chairs should have been at odds with the wicker sofas with cushions in colorful tropical prints, but somehow, it worked.

  “Ah, yes, Ms. Bond. We have a suite for you facing the beach. And Mr. Baxter Tamsyn is booked into a room at the eastern edge of the property. We’ve also reserved a table for you at Martinis, our in-house bar.”

  I scrawled my signature on the form for both rooms then passed the small key jacket to Baxtard. “Get settled. We’ll meet for cocktails in two hours.” He started to move away, but I stopped him. “Duet? Stay out of the sun. You have quite a burn going there.”

  I left him poking his forearm, watching with fascination as the burned skin whitened then flushed again. Shaking my head, I sashayed across the lobby.

  My steps slowed as I approached my suite. Something felt off in the corridor, and my sixth sense, the one that alerted me to potential danger, revved up. Nerves in an uproar, I tiptoed toward the door, reaching into my bag for my Walther. The butt was comfortable in the palm of my hand, sturdy and deadly. I disengaged the safety. The door was already ajar, and the diode on the suite’s lock mechanism flashed red then green like a syncopated Christmas tree.

  Cautiously, I stood to the side, rested my palm below the handle, and eased the door open on well-oiled hinges. Thank God for an efficient housekeeping staff. Leading with my gun, I crossed the threshold. Swinging my arm and my gaze in a wide arc, I cleared the room. A large basket of fruit and a bottle of sparkling wine sat on the gleaming teak wood table. Nothing appeared out of place. I plucked a grape from the bunch and studied it. Plump and green. The absence of any dark discoloration told me it hadn’t been treated with any kind of toxin.

  A noise from the bedroom caused me to spin sharply around, the grape flying from my fingers as I raised my weapon. I slipped off my Choo’s and crossed the tile leading to the other room on super quiet feet. I could have levitated like a badass vampire and moved soundlessly across the room, but where was the fun in that? Besides, the tiles felt cool under my feet and they were tired from traveling in stilettos all day.

  Back flat against the wall, once again I pressed my palm to the door and pushed it open.

  “Darling, you make a tremendous amount of noise when you’re trying to be stealthy.” Lucien’s baritone voice sang out from across the room.

  My shoulders
slumped, and I let the gun fall to my side. “For the love of God, Lucien. One of these days, you’re going to surprise me and I won’t be able to stop myself from dispatching you back to Hell. You can’t sneak up on a girl that way.” I entered the room to find the demon casually reclining on my king-size bed.

  He looked nearly edible lying there in his pristine white shirt, the top three buttons undone and the cloth stretched taut over his firm, muscled chest. He’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, possibly in deference to the heat, but more likely because he knew the sight of the smattering of hair on his tanned forearms made me melt like butter in the microwave. His long, powerful legs were encased in black trousers, and he’d casually crossed them at the ankles. His feet were bare. I was a little turned on by how good he looked. My gums tingled as my fangs lengthened.

  His wavy black hair was tousled, as though he’d just woken from a nap. Depending on how long he’d been waiting, it was entirely possible. His obsidian eyes rimmed in jade green were like dark dream pools, waiting to suck me in and drown me in their depths. Dark stubble capable of abrading my thighs adorned his square chin and stubborn jaw, and his deep red lips glistened, like he’d just licked them.

  He held a hand out to me. “Come here, darling. Show me how glad you are to see me.”

  I laid the Walther on the dresser to the left of the door and took a step forward. I jolted to a stop. “Hang on, then. What’re you doing here? How did you find me?” I leaned my hip against the dresser, crossed my arms, and scowled at the man. “I don’t believe I mentioned I’d be here.”

  “I followed my dick, darling.” Lucien’s leer would’ve been comical on most men, but man, he made it work.

  I circled my hands in the general area of his lap and shook my head. “Well, you can follow it back to wherever you came from. I’m on assignment. No time to play.”

  “You vamps suck all the joy out of life,” he whined.

  One fang descended, making my upper lip protrude a tiny bit. I curled said lip up, drawing Lucien’s eyes to it like a drunk to vodka. Focusing, I retracted the fang and smiled at him. “Yeah, we do suck.”

  He sat up and palmed his lap soothing away the traces of his obvious arousal. His reaction was akin to a prepubescent boy catching his first sight of titties in National Geographic.

  I took pity on the demon and crossed the room to sit on the bed next to him. My dark red skirt shimmied up my legs, exposing a good bit of skin. “Really, Lucien. What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “I imagine the same thing you are. Trying to find out what’s happening in the area. The Demon Intelligence Agency caught wind of a subterranean building and want it investigated. They sent their best, by the way. Told me to offer to collaborate to solve this…yada, yada, yada.” He ended on a yawn.

  I tipped my head and toyed with the fabric of his sleeve. “Why would the DIA care about an underground facility? There are plenty of them around the world.”

  “Viktor Koszlov.”

  “Ah.”

  “The mortal has been on our radar since his birth. At first, we believed he had the potential to be one of Lucifer’s generals and lead a demon horde. You know, back when the boss wanted dominion over the world. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, Koszlov turned much too dark for our tastes.”

  Probably around the same time I’d been his captive in Stalingrad. The prick had taken particular delight in forcing me to feed from enslaved donors. Then he’d drained me almost dry and cut me open to watch how the blood circulated through me. Draining a vampire of all vital fluid was an arduous, painful process. And it accelerated the dehumanization of a vampire.

  I wasn’t an ancient creature of the night. At my age, I should’ve retained more of my humanity. But years had been stolen from me with those torture sessions. For that alone, Koszlov needed to die.

  In an odd twist of fate, my loss of humanity is what had led to promotion after promotion, until I became the master spy I was today. Oh, if only they knew my secrets. The VIS might arrange to drain me in hopes of quelling my desire to hold on to some shred of my soul. If I couldn’t, I might as well be dead, for my existence would have no true meaning.

  I shook away my dismal thoughts and focused on Lucien. “There’s a darker side than a demon horde?”

  He rested a hand on my thigh and gave me a squeeze. We’d pillow-talked about my experience as Koszlov’s prisoner. For a demon, he had his sweet moments.

  Lucien yawned again. “Anyway, Koszlov’s installation on Rapa Nui goes too deep into the Earth. The proximity to the underworld is…threatening. If he gets too close, there’s power to be seized there. Not to mention, our intel suggests he’s manufacturing a chemical to use against humans with an eye to taking over the world. You know how the mucky-mucks at the top of our food chain feel about mortals bent on world domination.”

  Mortals had no reason to fear vampires or demons while sodding maniacs like Viktor roamed the earth.

  “Is Viktor aware of how close he is to a portal?”

  Lucien shrugged. “You’d need to be clairvoyant to know that.”

  If Viktor breached the barrier between the mortal and demon worlds, there’d be no stopping him. The supernatural conduits laid out in the underworld were confusing and looked like spaghetti all tangled together. But today’s technology would make the underworld easy to map out once he made it into the first tunnel. If he managed to fly under the radar in their territory, to move throughout the underworld at will…well, the world was pretty much toast.

  “According to VIS data, there was an incident on the island.”

  “We have the same information.” Lucien stroked the back of his knuckles down my arm, eliciting a barrage of tingles along my body. Sex and danger seemed to go hand in hand with my favorite demon. “Headquarters sent a forensics team in to investigate. What killed the workers wasn’t the fire suppression system as we thought originally. What do you know about it?”

  “Sorry, darling. My information is marked ‘Eyes Only,’ and your gorgeous peepers aren’t on the approved eyeball list.”

  Lucien picked up my hand and pressed his lips to my knuckles, a chivalrous gesture I saw through immediately. Rotating my arm, he licked my palm and sucked my forefinger between his lush lips, making me squirm.

  “Darling, if we cooperate on the investigation, we’ll get done quickly, leaving more time for us to play in the sand.” He leaned forward, his breath caressing my cheek when he whispered against my skin. “You want to play, don’t you?”

  The fact I allowed him to put his hand on my inner thigh and trace a path up toward my sweet spot had to tell him just how much I wanted to play. But not right at the moment.

  Deftly, I shimmied my hand beneath his and removed it from under my skirt. “Lucien, you know I’d do anything for you. But cooperating with the DIA will have to come as a direct order.”

  He let out an exaggerated exhale. “Jayne, I can’t think of the last time you followed orders.”

  He had a good point. “True, but this time, they’ve saddled me with a trainee.”

  One I’d just as soon ditch, but until I did, I was going to have to at least pretend to follow VIS rules.

  “Beg pardon?” The look of shock on his face was almost laughable.

  Or it would’ve been if what I’d just laid out wasn’t the truth. “Sorry, Lucien. I’m not flying ‘Solo’ on this one. I’ve got a newly minted VIS agent to show the ropes to.”

  “But Jayne—”

  “I tell you what, though…any information I can share, I promise to do so immediately.” I lowered my face to his and licked his pursed lips.

  It only took a second, and he opened up under my tongue. The kiss was deeply passionate and full of promise. He speared his hand into my hair and tugged me forward, changing the angle of his head, sweeping his tongue into my mouth. One fang descended from my gum, and I lightly scored his lower lip, not enough to draw blood, but more than adequate to pull a needy groa
n from him.

  I broke the kiss and leaned back to drag the tails of his shirt free of his trousers. He went to work freeing the remaining buttons, a sexy leer rendering his features sensual and strong.

  It truly was handy having a demon with benefits who was also skilled in the spy game. I’d milk him for info, give him only as much proprietary intel as necessary to retain his help, train Baxtard—I suppressed a shudder—and solve the issue before any other humans bit the bullet. Hopefully, before the megalomaniac oligarch gunning for world domination had a chance to figure out how to achieve it.

  3

  Mission Day 1

  Martini’s Bar

  “I believe crawling into bed with demons is a bad idea, Jayne.” For a newbie, Baxtard wasn’t the least hesitant to share his opinion.

  Not that I cared.

  And he was totally wrong. Jumping into bed with one demon in particular definitely had its advantages. Residual tingles still coursed through my body after the quick interlude with Lucien, real proof of just how smart I’d been to share my bed with a demon.

  I’d explained the lay of the land to the newbie as we walked to Martini’s, Pitcairn’s preeminent hotspot. I’d invited Lucien to join us. Hence the need to explain. Lord love a duck, I really preferred working alone. No one ever questioned my decisions to my face when I was flying…well, solo.

  Mortals feared vampires and demons, thanks in part to the cult-like followings that had developed over the generations. Honestly, we were united in our desire to protect humans, not prone to subjugating them. But people like Baxtard would never understand the uneasy relationship between our factions.

  I dug to the soles of my designer shoes for patience. “Listen up, mentee. While the goals of vampires might deviate from those of demons in some minor ways, ultimately, our motivation is the same. Save the world from dirtbags like Viktor Koszlov.”

  Calling the discrepancies in their goals “minor” might be an understatement. But judging by the wide-eyed befuddlement on Baxtard’s face, I’d sold it.