Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Carmine perched like a bird in the passenger's seat, a bottle of synthblood clutched in her hands, and dressed in another simple white gown she'd pulled out of a cardboard box in the trailer. Luckily they'd found a paper-thin pair of slippers in there, too, so she no longer hopped around on just her bandages.

They'd been driving for a couple hours. Every few minutes, she'd shoot him a look out of the corner of her eye, then take a sip of her drink. She didn't look like she enjoyed it much.

He could empathize. There must have been something off with the batch, because he normally enjoyed the brand stocked in the RV. But the bottle he'd forced himself to polish off before they set out tasted like chemicals, all hard metal and salt. There wasn't a bit of sweetness to it, and that bothered him for some reason.

When they made a pit stop, he'd get a different brand for them. In the meantime, he kept his displeasure to himself, since he didn't want to say anything that would discourage her from finishing her meal.

"Where are we going?"

He wondered if the sound of her voice would always be a bit of a shock. Every time she spoke, his body responded in visceral and deeply inappropriate ways.

"We're headed to California," he answered, gruffer than she deserved.

"So you are taking me to my groom." Carmine didn't sound hurt by that. If anything, she seemed to expect it.

The muscles bracketing his jaw tensed reflexively. "No," he bit out. "And I told you to stop thinking about him."

"Well, if it's not the man who paid my bride price, then it's someone else."

At this rate, he was going to crack a damn molar. "No, it's not."

"Someone is going to try to be my groom," she very reasonably pointed out.

"That someone is a dead man," he replied, equally reasonable. "All the someones are dead men. Now, stop thinking about grooms and shit. Seriously, you're not allowed to worry about that anymore. That's a rule."

"How come you're allowed to tell me what to do? Are you going to be my groom?"

"Fuck no." He didn't mean to spit the words out, but he couldn't contain them. The idea that he might take a blood bride when he'd spent most of his life protecting Adriana from that fate was repulsive.

There was a wide, wide gulf between taking a blood bride and taking an anchor, a mate. One was a disgusting institution based on antiquated ideals of bloodline purity and the other was sacred. A partnership. He'd never considered taking a vampiric anchor before, but he wasn't put off by the idea itself, only the idea that he might want one for the same reason Junger did.

Carmine didn't look at him. Before, she'd done it regularly, about every two minutes, but now she seemed intent on watching the road. "If you're not my groom, and you're not delivering me to the one who paid my bride price, and you're not going to sell me to someone else, why are we going to California?"

A fair question.

"Because that's where we're expected to go. This RV is being tracked. Junger trusts me to do the job, but he'd be an idiot to trust me completely. If I deviate from the course too much, he's gonna send someone after us." Atticus rolled his shoulders back, trying to ease the sudden knot of tension between the blades. He could handle anyone Junger sent, but the risk it would pose to Carmine was intolerable.

"Junger?"

"The dead man," he growled.

"I don't understand. You're delivering me to him but you're not?"

Oh, she was starting to get annoyed with him. Atticus slid her a quick look and found her jaw firmly set. Those big eyes were narrowed at the road and her lips, soft and plush, were pursed.

He didn't like upsetting her, but he did feel an odd sort of thrill at the tart note in her voice. Atticus had to resist the urge to flatten his tongue against the roof of his mouth, easing the ache in his venom gland, when he replied, "I live in California, dollface."

"So?"

"So, I'm taking you home with me, where I know you'll be safe." He watched her out of the corner of his eye and held his breath. There was no reason for him to be so invested in her response, but there he was.

Of course she didn't immediately sigh with relief and bat those long, curly lashes at him. Instead, her shoulders went stiff and the look she sent his way was one of the deepest suspicion.

She said nothing, but he swore he could hear her thoughts hollering at him. Carmine didn't believe a single word out of his mouth.

Smart, but irritating.

Clearing his throat, Atticus took one hand off the wheel to fish his phone out of his pocket. Normally he'd never call Harlan during a job, just for security's sake, but this was going to have to be an exception.

Clipping the phone into the holder on the dashboard, he checked the time before pulling up the boss's contact card. Harlan never used to sleep in, but having an anchor and a daughter had thankfully mellowed him out a bit. Now he actually slept in a few hours past sundown and occasionally did fun shit. A miracle.

The phone rang twice before Harlan picked up. Atticus glanced at his passenger before flicking the button to connect the phone to the RV's sound system.

"Atticus. Tell me what you need."

Carmine jolted in her seat. He wasn't sure if it was the volume or the surprise of hearing another man's voice that startled her, but he didn't like it. Reaching over the center console to settle his hand on her raised knee, he answered, "I've got a problem, boss."

"What kind?"

"The kind where we're gonna have to dig a deep hole."

There was a pause. "Junger."

"Yup." Atticus rubbed circles over her kneecap with his thumb, mostly to calm himself down. Every time he thought of the man, it was like a firecracker of pure rage exploded in his chest. "It wasn't cargo he had me pick up. Fucker bought a bride."

Harlan didn't waste time getting mad or asking dumb questions. His trust in Atticus was absolute. There were no uncertainties, no worry that Atticus might not grasp the situation or be misinformed. They'd worked together and been family too long for that.

"Is she with you?"

"She's listening right now." He felt Carmine tense and gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. "Her name's Carmine and she needs somewhere safe to go. You cool with me bringing her to the estate?"

"Of course," Harlan answered, entirely unfazed by the idea that Atticus might be bringing trouble home. "Carmine, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Harlan Bounds. You're welcome to stay with us for however long you need. My anchor will be ecstatic to have you as a neighbor. Atticus, I'll have one of the cottages cleared out for her. Medical care is on call if necessary when you arrive."

That new thing in his chest went tight and mean all of a sudden. It was like a leg cramp, but one that made him want to snarl into the phone, "Absolutely fucking not."

He had his own house on Empire Estate, the large swath of land that Harlan purchased when they hightailed it out of the New Zone. It'd once been a thriving gold mine. The property was home to a manor and about a dozen homes scattered in a circle all around the farthest edge, off the beaten path from the manor and its attached gardens. Most of them were vacant. Harlan's security team, led by Atticus, had all claimed one of the stone cottages, but they lived in the guard house by the gate during their shifts. Technically, a cottage belonged to Adriana, too, but she preferred to stay in the manor when she visited.

There were four cottages still unoccupied. They were all modernized and cleaned up when Harlan bought the place. Carmine would be totally comfortable in one. There were exactly zero reasons for him to be pissed about the idea that she wouldn't be staying with him instead.

Why didn't I think of that? It hadn't even occurred to him. He'd just assumed she'd come stay in his house. That way he could keep an eye on her. That seemed reasonable.

Except he knew it wasn't. Empire Estate was locked up tighter than an elvish prison, especially after the scare they'd had when Zia was kidnapped. And now that Harlan and Zia were on their way to having a big, happy family? Junger would have to find an army if he wanted to so much as peek over the fence.

Carmine didn't need to be right under his nose to be safe, and arguing the point would only raise a lot of questions he was in no state of mind to answer.

Luckily, he didn't have to figure out what to say right away. Carmine beat him to it.

In her high, no nonsense voice, she asked, "Are you going to sell me, Mr. Bounds?"

Atticus choked on nothing, but Harlan was as unflappable as ever. "No. I'd like to help you. And call me Harlan."

"Why? You don't know me."

"I don't, but Atticus does. That's all I need."

"Why does he call you boss?"

"Habit. He started calling me that when we met. He was thirteen and too scared to use my first name, so it was boss or Mr. Bounds. Then he preferred it to dad. And I am still his boss, though you wouldn't know it by how he acts."

Carmine's lips popped open with surprise. "You're his dad?"

Atticus drummed his claws against the steering wheel. He didn't normally tell strangers anything about his past — not even the few potential anchors he'd gone out with — and Harlan was even less inclined toward sharing. But a woman who'd been bought and sold again as a blood bride couldn't trust anyone, so a little sharing was necessary. If they wanted to establish trust, then they had to show a little, too.

Harlan wasn't a particularly verbose man and he generally didn't need to be. His word was law. When he said jump, you did it. Not because he was scary, but because he'd earned the respect of his people over and over.

Zia'd softened him up a bit, though, and it showed when he patiently explained, "I adopted Atticus and his sister when they were kids. We're family. I trust him to know what's right. If he says you need help, then you've got it."

"Oh." Carmine looked lost. That new organ in his chest spasmed again.

Always good at reading people, Harlan switched the conversation back to Atticus. "Tell me the plan, boy. You want me to call your sister? She'll want to meet Carmine."

"That's a good idea. Ask her if she's comfortable staying a few days." He wouldn't disclose her secret to anyone, not even Carmine, but if she wanted to come and reveal that she was also a venom neutral vampire, Atticus figured it would help things along. Adriana could relate to Carmine, at least a little bit, and hopefully help her adjust.

"Junger expects me back in Sacramento in about a week. I figure I head back like he expects, but I meet up with one of our men a day before. Send Michael out. He can pick her up and drive all day back home. I'll drop off the trailer at the spot, handle Junger, and then head back."

"I can handle him for you."

It was a humbling offer, considering Harlan was one of the most feared assassins in the UTA, but Atticus shook his head. "Zia'd be mad."

"Not if I told her why. She's got a mean streak a mile wide when you get her righteousness going."

The estate's former rosarian, Zia was all sunshine and roses and sweet smiles, but she was also the witch who shoved her own poisoned blood down a vampire's throat with zero hesitation. She didn't want Harlan doing any murder for hire, but if he did it to protect someone, Atticus was pretty sure she wouldn't be too upset. But they had a kid now, and that meant the stakes were different. Even though he was certain Harlan would never be caught, he couldn't allow him to take the risk.

And even if I could…

"Thanks, but I'm gonna pass." He didn't turn his head to see Carmine's expression, but he felt her eyes on him when he added, "I want to kill the sonuvabitch myself."