Wanted: Undead or Alive

Chapter Seven

Phineas frowned as he slipped a knife into the sheath he’d attached around his calf so that it nestled just inside his cowboy boot. He’d made one simple decision, that they would teleport to the medical clinic, and Brynley had gone ballistic.

He recalled the way she’d reacted when he’d teleported behind her. She’d yelled at him then, and now she was shouting again. Were all werewolves this high-strung? She was behaving like one of those overbred, expensive little dogs that yapped all the time. He couldn’t recall Phil ever acting like this. Apparently, the little princess was used to always getting her way.

“I can’t believe this!” She glared at him, her hands on her hips. “I go to all this trouble to make sure you have a car, and you don’t even want to use it?”

He tugged his pants leg down and straightened. “I explained why—”

“You don’t appreciate what I’ve done. Or the trouble those ladies went to.”

“I do—”

“Then let’s drive the damned car!”

Yap, yap, yap. Would he have to put a muzzle on her? “Brynley—”

“Don’t you understand? I want to be more than just a babysitter for you when you’re dead. I want to help you when you’re awake.”

That gave him pause. It didn’t sound like something a spoiled princess would say. He dragged a hand over his short hair, wishing he could figure her out. “You are helping. I’m really glad we have the car. At some point, we’ll need it.” He wasn’t so sure about the damned horses, though. “I thought it was very clever, the way you arranged it all.”

She scowled at him. “Now you’re just being condescending.”

Damn, she was touchy. “I mean it. I think you’re very clever. And brave. You and your friends have got this whole underground female liberation thing going on. And you’re the leader. It’s radical. Rebellious. Totally cool.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “It’s . . . no big deal.”

“It is big. And it’s gutsy. I like it.”

She looked away and waved a dismissive hand. “Someone had to help the Lost Boys.”

Phineas blinked when it finally clicked. She had trouble accepting a compliment. And that seemed really strange. A princess should be used to flattery, but obviously, Brynley wasn’t.

What if he’d misinterpreted other things about her? He’d always thought her anger stemmed from being a spoiled princess who would throw a temper tantrum if she wasn’t getting her way. But what if she was angry because she never got her way? What if her prickly nature was due to a lifetime of criticism rather than compliments?

It was a bizarre theory, so he needed to put it to the test one more time. “You know, your brother’s really proud of you. Brags about you all the time.”

Her blush deepened. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and looked away.

Amazing. She didn’t know what to do with a compliment. And even more amazing—he’d found a guaranteed way to shut her up. It was sad, though, if she’d grown up never receiving any kind words. He knew she’d run away from home because her dad had tried to force her into an unwanted marriage. Maybe the dad had a long history of being an overbearing jerk.

He slipped on a shoulder holster. “You know what I really like about your underground rebellion? The way you’re sticking it to your dad.”

She flinched. “I . . . he . . . this has nothing to do with him. And I still think we should take the car.”

Man, did she change the subject in a hurry. Some major denial going on. He strongly suspected dear old dad was the source of her problems. Which meant, he thought with a wry smile, that he and Brynley had something in common after all.

And she wasn’t the spoiled princess he had thought. She’d risked everything to help the Lost Boys, and she’d given up her cushy life when she ran away from home.

Damn. The more he got to know her, the more he liked her. And admired her. Don’t think about it. Stick to business.

He checked his automatic pistol to make sure it was loaded, then slipped it into the shoulder holster. “The hospital is in Buffalo. It could take over an hour to drive there, and we can teleport there in just a second.”

“It’s a twenty-four-hour emergency room,” she argued. “There’ll be people there. We can’t just pop in and scare everybody.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He slipped a large sheepskin jacket on to conceal his weapon. “I can erase people’s memories if I need to.”

She made a face at him. “You seem awfully eager to use your vampire mind control.”

“You seem awfully sensitive about it.”

“I’m just saying you’d better not try it on me. Mess with me and I’ll mess with you while you’re in your death-sleep. I could do something terrible like . . . donate one of your kidneys.”

He grinned. “Don’t worry. I have no desire to invade your brain.” Her body, yes, but not her brain. “Some places are just too scary to visit.”

She scoffed. “That’s right. I’m so complicated you’d get lost and never find your way out.”

That was the problem. He wouldn’t want to find his way out.

He checked the information he’d written about the emergency room. “I’m going to call now and teleport. Are you coming with me?”

She hesitated. “I can’t let any werewolves see me.”

“I understand.” He extended a hand toward her. “I can protect you.”

She took a small step in his direction. “Can you avoid using my name in public? My dad’s a powerful landowner, so even mortals could recognize my name. And if the news gets back to him—”

“I got it.” He slipped his hand around her waist and urged her closer. “We have to keep you secret.”

She placed her hands on his chest. “I don’t mean to sound paranoid about it. I just don’t want to be forced to marry against my will.”

“I’d never let that happen.”

She glanced up at him. “You don’t know how ruthless my father can be.”

He gripped her tightly around the waist. “You don’t know how determined I can be.”

Her eyes widened, and her heartbeat accelerated. “Why are you willing to protect me?”

Because no matter how much she fussed and snarled, it was music to his ears. When he breathed in her scent, he was in heaven. And when he gazed into her sky-blue eyes, an eternity wasn’t long enough.

But he couldn’t tell her that, so he shrugged. “I don’t like people to be unhappy.”

She snorted. “You don’t even consider me ‘people.’ You call me Snout-Face.”

He smiled and tapped the end of her nose. “But it’s such a beautiful snout.”

Her mouth fell open, drawing his gaze there. Soft, luscious lips, ripe for kissing and sweet to taste. He pulled her close, and his groin hardened as her lips turned a rosy pink.

She inhaled sharply. “What the—?”

He stiffened with the sudden realization that the whole cabin was now tinted pink. And that could mean only one thing. His eyes had turned red.

“Excuse me.” He looked away, squeezing his eyes shut. Shit. He’d gotten hot from just touching her nose?

“Are you all right? You look like you’re in pain.”

He gritted his teeth. “It’s nothing. Just a vampire thing. It’ll pass.” Although it was difficult to ignore her sweet body pressed up against his.

“Excuse me a minute.” He zoomed at vampire speed into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. Shit. He hadn’t made it through one night without his eyes betraying him. His attraction to her was stronger than he’d thought.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. What he needed was self-control. He pictured a snowy blizzard in his mind, then a pack of growling wolves. Bared teeth. Snapping jaws. They hated him. They wanted to rip him to shreds. And Brynley was leader of the pack.

He opened his eyes. His image didn’t show up in the bathroom mirror, but the room was no longer pink, so his vision must have returned to normal.

He dashed back to the table and grabbed his cell phone. “Let’s get going.” He dialed the number of the emergency room and wrapped an arm around Brynley without looking at her.

When a woman answered, he teleported, taking Brynley with him.

Nothing? Ha! Brynley glanced quickly around the emergency room’s waiting area. It was empty, except for the mortal receptionist. No werewolves in sight. She was safe. Safe enough to freak out over what had just happened. If it was nothing, why had Phineas run off so fast to the bathroom?

A vampire thing? That was a huge understatement. She knew good and well what red glowing eyes meant. Vanda had explained it to her and the angel, Marielle. A vampire’s eyes turned red when he wanted sex.

And that meant Phineas was attracted to her! Her heart lurched up her throat. Why hadn’t she realized this before? Well, how could she when the rascal was always tormenting her and calling her Snout-Face? That was not the way to win a woman’s affections.

Her heart plummeted. The conclusion was obvious. Phineas was rude because he didn’t want to win her affections. That was why he’d shot off to the bathroom like the hounds from hell were after him. He didn’t want to get involved with a werewolf.

Well. She squared her shoulders. She didn’t want to get involved with a vampire, so there. They were even.

And alone.

It was a bloody shame. While all the Lycan males would want her for her werewolf status, Phineas rejected her for it.

Her heart sank even further. His red glowing eyes were probably nothing more than an indication that he was susceptible to the Three-Step rule. It was a theory she’d come up with years ago that at any given time, a man’s thoughts were only three steps away from sex. She should have known it would apply to Phineas. He was about the sexiest man she’d ever met. He was probably attracted to every woman he met, and his eyes were constantly turning red.

After all, he called himself the Love Doctor. And he was the Blardonnay Guy, too. Every woman who watched DVN wanted him. She had a sudden urge to slap his handsome face. And then kiss it to make it better. She groaned inwardly. The man had no right being so sexy. It had to be that damned vampire allure.

She glanced at him. He’d been quiet since they arrived, but she figured his brain was busy zapping the receptionist with vampire mind control. He approached the receptionist’s desk, staring intently at the woman sitting there. The nurse had gasped when they’d teleported into the waiting room, but now she was simply gazing at Phineas with a blank look.

He smiled at her. “I believe you had a patient here a few days ago with bite marks on his neck?”

Brynley joined him at the counter. “Can you tell us his name?”

The nurse looked at her, then shook her head slightly as if she were dispelling cobwebs from her mind. “Are you from the newspaper? We figured you guys would show up eventually with a bunch of questions, but I’m afraid I can’t discuss the case with you.”

Phineas leaned close to Brynley and whispered, “You messed up my control. Let me handle this.”

She shot him an irritated look, but he ignored her and refocused on the nurse, who soon regained her glassy-eyed blank expression.

“We’re from the Centers for Disease Control.” He whipped out his wallet and flashed a credit card at her.

“I see.” The nurse nodded. “How can I help you?”

“I’m Inspector Mc—” Phineas halted, obviously having second thoughts about using his real name.

“Man-boob,” Brynley finished for him.

He stiffened.

“What can I do for you, Inspector McMan-boob?” the nurse asked.

He gritted his teeth. “It’s muscle.”

“Inspector Muscle?” the nurse asked.

“Yes. Exactly.” He gave Brynley a triumphant look. “And this is my assistant, Nurse—”

“Doctor,” Brynley corrected him.

“Doctor . . .” He glanced down at her chest. “A-cup.”

“B-cup!”

He arched a brow. “You’ll have to prove it.”

She lifted her chin. “Maybe I will.”

With a smirk, he turned back to the nurse. “We need to see the file on the patient who came in with bite marks.”

She stood. “That would be Jason Pritchard. One moment, please.” She wandered into the adjoining office that housed the file cabinets.

Brynley leaned close to him and whispered, “I know why a Vamp’s eyes turn red. Vanda told us.” She stifled a grin when he visibly gulped. Let him worry about that for a while.

He glanced at her with a stern look. “We’ll discuss it later.” Again his gaze dropped. “Doctor B-cup.”

“Inspector McMan-bo—”

“It’s muscle,” he interrupted her.

“You’ll have to prove it.”

“Maybe I will.” He turned back to the nurse as she came forward with the file. “Thank you.” He opened it on the counter.

Brynley sidled up closer so she could see what was in the file. The top page listed all the vital information about Jason Pritchard.

Phineas handed that page to the nurse. “Will you make a copy of this for us, please?”

“Of course, Inspector Muscle.” She took the paper and strode into the adjoining office.

Phineas pointed at the bottom of another page. “He was released this morning.”

“Yes.” Brynley glanced over her shoulder when she heard the emergency room door opening, then quickly turned her back as a man entered and his scent wafted toward her.

Werewolf.

Beside her, Phineas stiffened. He opened his jacket, the side without the shoulder holster, then abruptly pulled her against his chest and covered her halfway with his jacket.

Brynley let out a surprised and muffled moan, her face pressed against his chest. A very hard chest. He’d been right about the muscle.

She listened to the werewolf’s steps as he approached the receptionist’s desk and came to a stop behind her. She winced. He would smell werewolf, too. Hopefully, he would think the scent was coming from Phineas.

“Where’s the damned nurse?” the werewolf growled. “I think I cracked a rib.”

“That’s gotta hurt,” Phineas said with a sympathetic tone.

Obviously, this werewolf wasn’t an Alpha, Brynley thought. Or he would have simply shifted to wolf form and back to heal himself.

“Yeah, I fell off a damned ladder,” the werewolf grumbled. “What are you here for?”

“Oh, it’s not me. It’s my girlfriend here. Betsy. She’s in a lot of pain.”

Brynley let out a miserable-sounding moan.

“There, there, darlin’.” Phineas patted her on the back. “We’ll get your medication. Don’t go psycho on me again, okay?”

Psycho? She pinched him underneath his jacket and heard him wince.

“She’s got leprosy, you know,” Phineas continued. “Goes a little crazy when a body part falls off.”

“What?” the werewolf squeaked.

Brynley smiled as she heard him scurrying to the other side of the room.

“Here’s your paper, Inspector Muscle,” the nurse said.

“Thank you,” Phineas answered. “Let’s go, Betsy.” He steered her toward the door with her face still hidden beneath his jacket.

She exhaled with relief as they stepped onto the sidewalk.

Phineas paused. “Okay, I released the nurse from my control, and she won’t remember us. Let’s go.”

Brynley ran around to the back of the building with him. “Leprosy? You made me a leper?”

“It worked. It kept the wolf dude away from you.” He stuffed the paper from the clinic into a jacket pocket as he scanned their surroundings. “Coast is clear. Let’s teleport back.”

With a smile, she slipped her hands around his neck. “Thank you for protecting me, Inspector Muscle.”

“Anytime, Betsy B-cup.” His dark chocolate eyes twinkled as he flashed his perfect smile at her, and a flood of desire almost knocked her off her feet.

She tightened her grip around his neck. She’d felt twinges before around Phineas, pleasant little bursts of lust that passed quickly, but this—this was a strong surge that swept over her entire body and clung to her, refusing to let go. This was a desire that went past the physical. It was seeping into her soul.

“Are you all right?” he whispered.

He knows. She shook her head. “I’m in trouble.”

“We both are.” His eyes glinted with a hint of red, then everything went black.