Hannah Jayne - Under Wraps

“Officer Franks!” I exclaimed, examining Opie’s smooth, undead complexion, his strawberry-blond hair standing out fiercely red against his now-pale forehead. He grinned at me—that same goofy, toothy smile—and I could see delicate fangs pressing against his lower lip. He tipped his head to look lovingly into Nina’s eyes, and I could see the two tiny puncture wounds on the side of his neck.

“Nina!” I hissed. “You didn’t!”

Vlad glared, put both of his hands on his hips. “I can’t turn anyone, but she can? God! There is such a double standard around here!”

I smiled, shared a private look with Vlad while Nina looked sheepish, kicking at the ground with brand-new black leather peep-toe ankle boots. “I know I shouldn’t have, but he had hardly been dead an hour when we found him,” she said, staring up into Opie’s black marble eyes, “and then I just couldn’t resist.” She snuggled close to him. “He’s just so darling!” She inclined her head toward me and whispered, “Isn’t he just luscious?”

Nina turned, her dark eyes settling on Alex’s naked chest. “Speaking of luscious …”

A blush of crimson washed over Alex, and he shrugged back into his flak jacket. He looked from me to Neils, his blue eyes reflecting the dark sky. “Is she going to be okay?”

“She would if she’d hold still,” Neils answered.

“Wait,” I said, edging away from Neils after he smoothed a long white bandage across my wound. “What about Mr. Sampson? Has anyone seen him?”

“Miss,” Neils said, “you need to relax.” He draped an itchy, folded blanket over my shoulders.

“Wait,” I said again, ignoring Neils and staring from Nina to Alex. “Please?”

Alex leaned against the ambulance and raked a hand through his dark, tousled hair. “Sophie …”

I stood up. “He’s okay, though, right? You were able to find him, just to make sure he’s okay?”

Nina looked at the ground, and my heart jumped into my throat, constricting my breath. My eyes started to moisten and itch. “Right?”

“I’m sorry, Sophie. We haven’t found any trace of him,” Alex said.

I looked at Nina. “You?”

She shook her head sadly. “I haven’t been able to trace him. Other than the scent—it got really strong a few minutes before we found you—but then it was gone. He was gone.”

My hand went to the bandage across my chest. “When the chief cut me.”

“Sampson must have had a surge of emotion when he thought you were being”—Nina winced—“drained.”

I blinked, staring past the assembled officers and squad cars, the San Francisco streetlights blurring under my tears. “It changed him. When the chief cut me, he changed. He broke through his chains to save me.”

“Sampson’s going to be fine,” Alex said. “I’m sure of it.”

Nina nodded. “He’ll probably even be right back—after the dust settles.”

I let my friends’ assurances wash over me, let the weight of the night sink in. I felt the moist, cool night air on my skin and breathed deeply, rested my head against the open door of the ambulance.

“Rough night,” I whispered.

“Rougher than pot roast night?” Alex said with a grin.

I saw Neils’s eyes go large as Steve strolled up to us, lacing his thick gray fingers through mine. He dipped his head against my thigh and looked up at me, batting his slate gray eyes.

“Steve,” I said, “thank you.” I crouched down to hug him, wincing at the warm ache that surged through me. “Thank you so much for rescuing me.”

Steve nuzzled against me, and I held my breath against his troll stench as he patted my back softly. “Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to Sophie. Steve is Sophie’s hero.”

Alex squeezed in between Steve and me. “I like to think I had a little something to do with this rescue mission, Steve.”

Steve crossed his arms and stared Alex down. “Mr. Superhero likes to think.”

“How did you find me, anyway? And why”—I looked at Alex—“why did you come to find me after the way I treated you?”

“You mean when you stabbed me?” Alex’s face broke into the Parker Hayes sexy half grin, and a shiver went up my spine.

“Yeah.”

Alex shrugged. “I knew you didn’t mean it.”

“And when you stabbed Park—Alex”—Nina smiled sheepishly—“you must have cut yourself.”

I looked down in bewilderment at the ragged split in my palm. “Oh, right.”

“It made it easy to trace you.”

“I helped, too!” Alex protested.

“Sophie was never in any real danger,” Steve said, rolling up on his heels. “Steve had his eye on Sophie the whole time.” He widened his stance, his small hands on his hips, looking satisfied.

“He was hiding in my trunk,” Alex said.

“Steve knew he was not Sophie’s boyfriend,” Steve said, shaking his head toward Alex and then wrinkling his nose. “Something just didn’t smell right about that. Steve decided to trail Alex.”

“Yeah,” Alex repeated, “hiding in my trunk.”

“When I got back to our place, Alex and Vlad told me what happened. Alex had a lead on Sampson—where he might have gone—and Vlad knew that Lucy was after you. We were hoping to catch up with all of you at Mr. Sampson’s. But when we got to Sampson’s place, the smell of your blood and your fear was really strong. And Alex had a feeling about the chief, so”—Nina grinned, her fangs standing out against her red lips—“lucky guess.”

“Lucky twelve-months-of-research guess,” Alex said, his lips close to my ear.

Neils was completely engrossed in our conversation as Steve’s eye narrowed at Alex. I knelt down so I was eye to eye with Steve.

“Look, Steve.” I took both his hands in mine and squeezed gently. “You’re a really great guy—really great. But I just don’t think things are going to work out between us, Steve. Really, it’s not you—it’s me. I’m just not ready for someone as gallant as you.”

I tried to find Steve’s eyes and then followed his gaze over my left shoulder, directly to the impressive cleavage of a female paramedic who was bent over, replacing things in her bag.

Steve looked at me quickly. “Steve could never be the man for Sophie,” he said, his voice and his eyes trailing. “Steve knows that now. Steve only wishes that Sophie would release him from her heart’s viselike grip.”

I smiled and released Steve’s hands. “Consider yourself free, Steve.”

I watched as Steve unzipped his velour track jacket to mid-navel, fluffed up the lichen on his chest, and beelined for the busty paramedic.

Neils stepped in between us, looking from Nina and Franks, moonfaced, swooning, to Steve sauntering down the street, to me. He looked me up and down and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“So what are you?” he asked finally. “Some kind of she-wolf or something?” Neils was keeping his distance from me, his eyes raking me up and down carefully.

I wagged my head and sat down on the ambulance tailgate. “Nope. Nothing. I’m not special like that. I’m just your average girl.”

Alex rearranged the blanket on my shoulders and snuggled me close to him, his lips a hairsbreadth from my earlobe.

“Sophie Lawson,” he whispered, “there is nothing average about you.”

I was mashing potting soil around the new spider plant in my office when Alex knocked on the door frame.

“Agent Grace,” I said, grinning up at him.

“It’s Alex,” he said, striding up to me. His blue eyes slipped over me. “You look good. How are you feeling?”

I leaned against my desk. “Surprisingly well given the circumstances.” I felt the broken skin on my lips with the tip of my tongue.