The Braddock Boys: Brent

It didn’t matter that he’d sucked down enough blood to last him several days. His gaze had met hers and bam, the hunger had sliced through him, cutting him to the quick and scattering his common sense. In an instant, he’d wanted to forget everything—particularly the all-important fact that his youngest brother Cody was waiting for him, along with the computer genius that was going to help him track down his sister-in-law. That’s why he was still stuck in this hole-in-the-wall. He needed a lead on Rose and her whereabouts. Once he had enough information, he would hit the road and find her. After he watched his youngest brother tie the knot next week, that is.

Then he would uncover the truth behind the tragedy that destroyed his family and his home one hundred and fifty years ago.

He could still see the flames on that fateful night. Smell the sharp scent of smoke and decay and death.

The Braddock Boys had ridden into the chaos together. Brothers who’d vowed to watch out for each other. A pact they’d made as kids when their father had abandoned them to ride off after some saloon whore. Lyle Braddock had died in a bar fight not long after, and not one of his boys had mourned him. They’d been too busy taking care of each other to worry over the no-good sonofabitch and the fact that he’d never been much of a father figure.

When Cody had up and left to join the Confederate cause, Brent and his brothers had ridden along to keep an eye on him. They’d seized supplies and helped Confederate troops and made a name for themselves as the most notorious raiding group the Union army had ever seen. They’d sure-as-shootin’ been a major pain-in-the-ass to Quantrill and his boys.

But then the war had ended, the South had lost, and the Braddocks had headed home.

They’d arrived to find the entire ranch—the main house, the barn, the outbuildings—consumed by flames. The herd had been scattered. And what was left of his family? Gone.

Dead.

A nightmare. That’s what Brent had thought as he’d leapt off his horse and tried to save what he could, who he could. The whole scene had seemed so surreal. The dead bodies, most burned beyond recognition, stretched out here and there——his mother, the half dozen hired hands, the ranch foreman, Colton’s wife Rose, their six year-old son. But then reality had hit along with a very real crack to the back of his skull. He and his brothers had been attacked from behind, each picked off one-by-one, and left to die.

They would have been six feet under for sure if not for Garret Sawyer. Garret was the creative genius behind Skull Creek Choppers, the fastest growing custom motorcycle manufacturer in the South. He was also the two hundred year old vampire who’d turned the Braddock Brothers that night and given them a second chance at life.

At vengeance.

Up until two weeks ago, Brent and the rest of the Braddocks had blamed Garret for the massacre. They’d been hellbent on finding him and doling out justice. Cody had been the lucky one who’d tracked him to Skull Creek first. Only, it had turned out that Garret had been innocent. He’d arrived after the attack and done all he could to save the brothers who’d been just this side of death. Garret had given them his blood and brought them over in the nick of time, but he’d been too late to save anyone else. Or so they’d thought. But Garret had revealed that he’d also turned a wounded couple he’d found several miles away. The vampire had assumed they were victims of an Indian attack and so he’d done what he could to help—he’d given them his blood the moment they’d taken their last breaths.

A man and a woman.

Rose.

After all this time, she was still alive. Still out there somewhere. A vampire.

While Brent had no idea what had happened that night—if she’d been an innocent victim or a cold, calculated murderess who’d orchestrated the massacre and sacrificed her own son—or who the man was that had been with her, he knew that she knew.

She held all the answers and he wouldn’t stop until he’d found her.

All the more reason to forget the damned ache in his gut, hit the gas and lose the woman trailing him.

Cody was waiting.

Even more, Dillon Cash was waiting. Dillon was the one doing the research on Rose, compiling information and trying to come up with a lead. He needed to get his ass in gear and head over to Dillon’s.

At the same time, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that churned inside him. Particularly since he had no clue who the woman was or what she wanted from him.

Nothing. Nada. Zip.

Which didn’t make a damned bit of sense because he was a friggin’ vampire. When it came to the opposite sex, he read every thought, anticipated every move. There were no surprises.

Until now.

Until her.

Sure, he’d connected with her initially like he did with all humans. He’d seen her initial reaction—the surprise, the lust, the longing. But then her expression had closed like a window slamming shut and he hadn’t been able to pick up anything else.

No name.

No background.

No intentions.

One hundred and fifty years and he’d always been able to read a woman’s thoughts. But damned if this one hadn’t shut him out. A fact that made him almost as hard as the lusty beast that lived and breathed inside of him.

He was intrigued. Aroused. Hungry.

And while the last thing Brent needed to do was waste his time with confrontations, suddenly it was the only thing he wanted to do.

He eased off the gas, pulled onto the side of the road and climbed out of the car.

This was not good.

The warning screamed in Abigail’s head the minute she pulled up behind the Camaro.

Her headlights sliced through the darkness, illuminating the abandoned car. Her gaze shifted to the pastureland that stretched for miles on either side of the road. He was nowhere in sight. No shadowy figure fleeing in the moonlight or trucking down the road. Which meant that while the car appeared abandoned, it wasn’t.

Fear made her heart pump faster and she drew on it. Despite what most people thought, fear could be good. It motivated people, kept their senses heightened and sharp. Most of all, it fed the survival instinct. The key was not to let fear get the upper hand and interfere with brain function. It was all about breathing and thinking. Abigail had learned that during her first special ops mission in Iraq. She’d been cornered by a small group of insurgents who would have captured her had she given in to the gripping terror in the pit of her stomach. The visions of interrogation and torture and death. But instead of the outcome, she’d focused on the moment. On thinking of a way to get to the knife in her boot. Plotting a line of attack. Finding a means of escape.

The fear had turned to power then and she’d made it out alive.

She forced another deep breath and stared at the car in front of her, her gaze searching for some sign that he was still in it. He had to be.

Her gut tightened, her instincts screaming yet again that something wasn’t right. Why would he hide unless he had something to hide? She killed her engine, leaving the headlights blazing, and climbed from behind the wheel.

A few seconds later, she eased up beside the car, every nerve in her body on high alert as she slid along the sleek finish and stalled just shy of the door. Her gaze sliced to the right, through the window and the thick darkness to find …

Nothing.

He wasn’t sprawled on the front seat or hunkered in the miniscule space in the back.

The Camaro was empty.

Impossible.

She whirled, drinking in the surrounding countryside. She’d been all of twenty seconds behind him. No way could he have crossed the wide open pasture in that short amount of time. Not flat out running. Not even hauling it on a four-wheeler.

Her mind raced as her attention shifted back to the muscle car. Her gaze dropped to the foot of space between the bottom of the car and the ground. It wasn’t enough to accommodate a man of his size. At the same time, she’d seen seven men stuff themselves into a crawlspace the size of a single shower stall to escape capture. Desperation was the mother of the impossible.

“You might as well come out.” Abigail summoned her most commanding voice. “I know you’re under there.”

“Actually,” the deep, timbre of his voice slithered into her ear a heartbeat before she felt his presence, “I’m out here.” A hand touched her shoulder. “Right behind you.”

4

SHE WHIRLED AND STARED up at him with blue eyes so clear and vivid that he should have been able to see everything going on in her head. She was startled. That’s all he got before the window slammed shut and he was pushed out.

For the first time, he found himself stuck noticing her features. The sparkle of her eyes. The fullness of her cheeks. The smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose.

Cute.

But Brent didn’t do cute. Even more, he didn’t do locals. So what if she had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and a pink, pouty mouth that inspired the most wicked thoughts? He wasn’t interested. No sir.

Her lips parted and the faintest intake of breath echoed in his super sensitive ears.

The sound echoed in his head, rumbled down his spine and made a bee-line straight to his cock.

Okay, so he was interested. But he knew it wasn’t the lust that drew him. He couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind her closed expression, and how she managed it in the first place. No woman had ever shut him out before.

Except his new sister-in-law, that is. But Brent had always figured that had something to do with the fact that she’d been sucking face with his brother. She and Cody had exchanged blood and so she shared his strength. Translation? She wasn’t susceptible to another vampire’s influence.

But this woman didn’t draw her strength from another bloodsucker. It was all her own and damned if that fact didn’t turn him on in a major way.

She hadn’t had sex in a really long time.

It wasn’t a truth he read in her gaze. Rather one that he gauged in her reaction. The stiffening of her body, the rapid in and out of her breaths, the frantic pulse beating at the base of her neck.

He stiffened. “Why are you following me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was taking a drive and I saw your car on the side of the road. I thought you might have broken down.”

“I saw you back at the Dairy Freeze.”

“I like to drive after I eat. It helps the digestion.”

She killed the eye contact and cast a glance at his car. “So what’s up?” She rounded the front end and started to lift the hood. “Did you overheat?”

He rested a hand atop the metal and pushed it back down with a loud whackkkk! “You’re good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t even blink.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re feeding me a load of bullshit and most people blink when they do that. But you haven’t batted an eye.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m not lying.”

“Or maybe,” he rounded the car and stepped up to her, “you’re just really, really good at it.”

Abby had the sudden urge to step back. He was too close and he smelled too good and she was too freaked out by both. Particularly since she didn’t get freaked out. Ever. She kept her cool. Her focus. Her objective. Always.

Until now.

Until him.

“What are you really doing out here?” His deep voice slid into her ears and made her heart beat that much faster.

Her hands trembled and she stiffened, determined to get a grip and keep her mind on her mission. “I’m looking for a man.”

He regarded her for a few frantic heartbeats before a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That much I can help you with.” His meaning hit and a wave of heat swept through her.

“That’s not what I meant.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “I’m looking for a specific man.”

“For a specific purpose?” He arched an eyebrow and her heart paused. He was playing with her. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in the deep timbre of his voice. “I’m a jack of all trades. Maybe I can help you out.”

Yeah, baby.

She ignored the frantic cry of her hormones and tried to remember the details of the story she’d worked out on the drive from San Antonio to Skull Creek. “I’m looking for my ex-boyfriend. We broke up last month and he moved back here. I think.” She didn’t sound half as convincing, but then that was the point. To play the sad, confused, pathetic ex-girlfriend and get the locals to talk to her. “One of his relatives passed on and left him quite a bit of money but the estate lawyer can’t seem to locate him.”

Something sparked in his gaze. “So you’re not from here?”

She shook her head. “I’ve got a place in Chicago, but I don’t see it much. My job keeps me busy.”

Sales. That’s what she was going to say when he asked what she did for a living. She’d been through enough interrogations to know that that was the next logical question.

“So what is it you’re after? A piece of the money, or do you still have a thing for him?”

“Sales.”

“Excuse me?”

Yeah, excuse me? Let him ask the question before you answer, dumbass. What are you thinking?

But she wasn’t thinking. Standing there, with the moonlight spilling down around them and his scent filling her nostrils, the only thing she could do was feel. The sweat trickling between her shoulder blades. The awareness rippling up and down her spine. The hollowness between her legs.

“That’s what I do for a living,” she blurted. “In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t. So are you going to answer the question? Money? Revenge? Which is it?”

“Closure. Our break-up was really abrupt. He moved out with no warning and the only thing I got was a text message saying goodbye. I figured if I came here to tell him about the inheritance, it would give us a chance to talk about things.” When he gave her a doubtful look, she added, “You wouldn’t understand. It’s a girl thing.” Or so she’d heard. She’d never been much of a “girl”. Not in the way she acted—no strutting her stuff or wowing men or texting her BFF about her latest conquest—and certainly not in the way she looked—no skimpy clothes or make-up or lacey panties. That truth had always been something she’d been proud of.

But staring up into his gaze, she found herself wishing she’d put on something—anything—besides baggy jeans and a hoodie.

“So what’s his name?”

“Who?”

“The ex-boyfriend?”

“Rayne.” She stared deep into his eyes, searching for some spark of recognition. “Rayne Montana. Do you know him?”

“Can’t say that I do. I’m just passing through myself. I’m visiting my brother and his wife. In fact,” he glanced at his watch, “I’m running late. I was supposed to meet them fifteen minutes ago.”

She tried to ignore the sudden disappointment that washed through her. “Sorry about the misunderstanding.” She started to dart past him, but he caught her arm before he could think better of it.

His fingertips seemed to tingle, sending shock waves through her. Her stomach hollowed out and her nipples pebbled.

“No bother.” His gaze pushed into hers. “So what does he look like?”

She glanced up from the point of contact. “Who?”

“The boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to correct him except that she’d always been a stickler for facts. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that she didn’t want him to think she was actually attached. As if he’d even be interested.

But that was the thing. Despite her hoodie and baggy jeans and regulation cotton underpants, he did look interested. His gaze gleamed with a dozen wicked thoughts and she couldn’t help herself.

“We’re not together anymore.”

“I sort of figured that’s what ex meant.”

“He’s a little over six feet,” she rushed on, eager to ignore the heat creeping into her cheeks. Blushing? She didn’t blush. She didn’t stammer. She didn’t act like a freakin’ idiot. “Short, dark hair. Very fit. Scar on his left bicep.”

“If I see anyone that fits the description, I’ll send them your way. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Abby. Abby Trent. Yours?”

“Brent Braddock.”

“Nice to meet you, Brent.”

“My pleasure.”

The last word conjured all sorts of images as Abby climbed into her car and headed back to the Skull Creek Inn, and straight into a cold shower.

Because the last thing Abby intended was to get side-tracked by a man. She had a job to do and she fully intended to stay on course.

No matter how much she suddenly wanted to take the nearest Exit to Sexville.

5

“I’D ALMOST GIVEN UP on you,” Cody said when Brent finally walked into Mary Sue’s Wedding Nirvana. Mary Sue’s was the one and only bridal shop and tuxedo rental in Skull Creek and the last place Brent wanted to be at the moment.

His pulse pounded and his muscles clenched. He was wired. Desperate. Hungry.

“You were supposed to be here a half hour ago.” Cody stood to the left near a small sitting area. He worked at the buttons on his white tuxedo shirt. “All the other guys have gone and left.”

“Sorry to miss the party but I had something I had to deal with.” Brent sank down into one of the leather chairs and tried to ignore his brother’s curious gaze.

Cody arched an eyebrow. “Something or someone?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, it’s just that you might want to watch yourself around here. It’s a small town. A safe town. The last thing we need are rumors flying.” He finished the buttons and shrugged on the black jacket. He turned towards Brent. “What do you think?”

“I’m glad you’re the one getting married and not me.”

“It’s not so bad.” He flexed and the fabric pulled and tugged. “Granted it’s not nearly as comfortable as a T-shirt and jeans, but I’ve suffered through worse. Speaking of which, the offer still stands. We’d really love to have you in the wedding.”

“I’m not really a wedding kind of guy. Love and marriage and forever and ever …” He gave a shudder. “Not my thing.”

“You don’t have to marry anyone. You’ll just be standing up with me.”

“Maybe next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.” Cody looked so certain that Brent almost believed him.

He might have if not for the all important fact that his brother was a friggin’ vampire. Translation? Temporary. Things might be picture perfect now, but it wouldn’t last. While Miranda herself seemed cool with it, there were others who wouldn’t be so accepting. Someone would eventually find out that there were bloodsuckers living in Skull Creek and then all hell would break loose. It always did.

Brent had learned that firsthand and it was a lesson he didn’t intend to forget. He’d barely gotten out of Jamison, Texas, without being staked, and all because he’d been stupid enough to fall in love. Or at least he’d thought it was love. It had been early on, right after he’d been turned. He’d been desperate for his life back. For a sense of normalcy. And then he’d met Lila. She’d been pretty and sweet and just like that he’d been able to see the two of them settling down and living happily ever after.

A stupid fantasy. That’s all it had been. He’d needed to feel like a man again, just a man, and she’d wanted someone to take care of her. The minute she’d seen the truth, she’d turned on him and run back to her family. Her father had told the entire town. They’d come for him then. Captured him. Tortured him.

They’d known he was a bloodsucker with the strength of ten men. But there’d been five times that many. They’d overpowered him, chained him up, beat him. They’d been ready to stake him, too, but he’d managed to work his hand free just in time. He’d made it out, but barely. He wasn’t risking his afterlife or his heart ever again.

Love—if there even was such a thing—sucked, no pun intended, and nothing good could come of it.

Not for Brent.

And certainly not for Cody.

His brother might be playing at normal now, but he wasn’t. He never would be and eventually the shit would hit the fan and he would have to leave.

“I’ve got Dillon compiling a list of all the Rose Braddocks in the United States,” Brent told him, determined to pull him onto a safer subject. One he could actually do something about. “Once he’s done, I’ll start checking them out.”

“Before the wedding?”

Cody looked so nervous for a split second that Brent couldn’t help himself. “I’ll be there next Saturday for the ceremony, I just can’t promise anything else.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“What difference does it make?” He shrugged. “So what’s with the blue? I thought most tuxedos were black?”

“Miranda likes blue. She says it brings out the blue in my eyes.”

Brent grinned. “You’re worse off than I thought, little bro.”

“Yeah,” Cody admitted, but there was none of the surprise or worry Brent would have expected at such an admission. His brother actually looked happy. “The house is almost done.” When Brent turned a questioning look on Cody, he added, “The one I’ve been building for the past six months? The one I’ve told you about a dozen times? My wedding gift to Miranda?” Brent shrugged and Cody added, “They just put the floors in yesterday. There are still a few minor things left to do like the phone jacks and the cable hookup, but for the most part it’s finished. I spent the day out there yesterday to make sure everything got done.”

“With workers in and out?”

“There’s a basement that locks from the inside. The workers only have access to the front door.” His gaze met Brent’s. “If you need a place to crash, I keep a key stashed near the front porch that unlocks the basement. You could camp out until the wedding.”

“The motel’s just fine.”

“I’d really like you to take a look and tell me what you think about the place.”

“Does it matter what I think?”

“No,” his brother said in all honesty, “but I’d still like you to see it. It’s out off old Farm Road 86, about six miles past the turn-off. We could head over after this and I could show you around.”

Brent shook his head. “I’m meeting Dillon. So do you have a guest list?” he asked, suddenly eager to ease the flash of disappointment in his brother’s gaze. Cody’s expression quickly shifted into surprise, and Brent added, “Just because I’m not your best man doesn’t mean I can’t throw you a bachelor party.”

“You don’t have to—“

“Just hand it over. A week from tonight. Mark your calendar.” He took the paper Cody pulled from his pocket and shoved it into his jeans. Pushing to his feet, he said, “I gotta go.”

“I was thinking you might want to stop off after you swing by Dillon’s and hang out with me and Miranda. I know she would love it. She wants to get to know you.”

“Dillon has a lot leads. It might take a while.”

Cody looked ready to argue, but then he shrugged. “Keep me posted.”

Brent nodded and walked out of the bridal shop.

Ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of a renovated service station with a neon blue sign that read Skull Creek Choppers gleaming in the front glass window. It was the last place he would expect to find a nest of vampires, but then that was the point. The place was ultra small town with its antique gas pumps and old-fashioned Goo Goo Clusters sign. Unassuming. Inconspicuous.

Safe.

For now, Brent reminded himself. It wouldn’t last. It never lasted.

He rang the buzzer on the high tech security pad sitting next to the door. A split-second later, a lock released and the door opened. He walked into the small room that housed the office portion of the motorcycle manufacture. A tall, muscular man sat in front of a state-of-the-art computer system. He didn’t glance up. He didn’t have to.