The victimwas none other than Miss Louise Moreau.
She met Griffin’s gaze, her eyes brave and calm in spite of her precarious situation. Griffin nodded slightly and returned his attention to Fritz.
“Let her go,” he said softly, “and I may let you live.”
Fritz tried to laugh and only managed a squeak. “Make one move,” he growled, “and I’ll slit her throat.”
“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” Griffin said. “You see, you’re much too slow to stop me, Fritz. I’ll reach you before you can so much as twitch your little finger.”
“You’re crazy.” Fritz licked his lips. “I’ve got—”
He never finished his sentence. Griffin crossed the space between them in one leap, wrenched the switchblade from Fritz’s hand and flung him against the brick wall. Fritz slumped to the ground. Griffin grabbed Miss Moreau just as she began to fall and guided her to one of the empty crates.
“Sit down, Miss Moreau,” he said. “I’ll make sure these men are incapable of any further mischief.”
Miss Moreau took a deep breath. “Thank you so much, Mr. Durant.”
He squeezed her arm and walked back into the shadows, his legs shaking with reaction from the fight and the memories it had evoked. Joe still lay unconscious in the refuse heap; Griffin found a bit of rope and tied his hands behind his back. A moaning Fritz lay where he’d fallen, nursing his wrist. He wouldn’t be molesting anyone soon.
Just as he finished tying Fritz’s ankles together, Griffin sensed a sudden, unexpected motion behind him. He jumped to his feet and found himself staring into the concealed face of awoman, her head and body swathed in dark veils and a black velvet coat that fell to her ankles. Her tantalizing scent seeped into Griffin’s skin and raced through his blood like a dangerous drug.
“Lou,” the woman said, crouching to take Miss Moreau’s hands, “are you all right?”
Miss Moreau passed a shaking hand over her hair. “I’m fine, Allie. Thanks to this gentleman.”
The woman—Allie—scrutinized Miss Moreau’s face and touched the narrow line of blood at the base of her neck. “They hurt you.”
“It’s nothing. I’d just like to go home.”
“Of course. Just give me a minute.” Allie rose, glanced toward the hobbled men and then fixed her attention on Griffin. “I owe you one, mister,” she said in a voice half silk and half steel, “but I can handle it from here.”
Griffin shook himself—hard. “I beg your pardon, Miss—”
“You don’t have to beg anything. Just leave the rest to me.”
His equilibrium somewhat restored, Griffin turned back to Miss Moreau. “Is this the employer of whom you spoke?”
“Yes.” She began to rise. “Mr. Durant, may I present Miss Allegra Chase. Allegra—”
“Sit down, Lou, before you fall down,” Miss Allegra Chase said sharply. She faced Griffin again. “What’s your name?”
He tipped his hat, not without a touch of irony. “Griffin Durant.”
“Oh, yes…the morally upright multimillionaire.” Her mockery belied her terse thanks. “Well, Mr. Durant, if you’d like to keep playing the gentleman, you could do me a favor and escort Lou out to the street until I’ve finished here.”
Griffin’s bemusement turned to foreboding. “Finished with what, Miss Chase?”
“Merely what you started. Making sure these hoodlums don’t try this kind of thing again.”
Griffin stood very still, studying Miss Chase with astonishment. Such a casual reference to confronting a pair of street toughs would ordinarily have seemed absurd coming from a female swathed in a trailing black coat and tottering on high-heeled pumps. She was petite, her head hardly reaching his shoulder, yet the swiftness of her appearance and the way she’d taken him by surprise spoke volumes; he’d been caught off guard thatway only a few times in his life, and never by an ordinary woman.
Nevertheless…
“I would prefer not to leave you alone, Miss Chase,” he said firmly.
The blue-green eyes behind her veil glinted red. “Are your kind always so protective of people they’ve never met?”
Your kind. So she knew, as she must realize that he recognized her inhuman nature.
“I don’t regard a situation like this as a matter of species,” he said. “I wouldn’t leave any woman with men such as these…not even one of your kind.”
Miss Chase feigned surprise. “My kind, huh? What do you suppose he means by that, Lou?” She took Griffin’s elbow, sending an almost electric current through his arm, and drew him aside.
“Come on, Mr. Durant,” she said, purring his name. “Do you really think I can’t put a scare into a couple of humans?”
Griffin shivered as he felt the stirrings of physical sensations he usually kept under strict control. He remembered when his father had told him howleeches attracted their prey: something in their smell had an overwhelmingly erotic effect on humans, enticing them as certain carnivorous plants lured hapless insects into their gullets. Griffin had never had occasion to witness the phenomenon himself, but now it was all too evident that what worked on humans could also affect loups-garous.
His mind, however, was still clear enough to recognize that Miss Chase’s seductiveness was a pretense. She couldn’t help herself, any more than she could help preying on hapless humans. As little as Griffin knew about the female of the vampire species, he presumed they were driven by the same instincts as their male counterparts.
Oh, this one could definitely put a scare into Joe and his companion. But she might not stop at that. Miss Chase undoubtedly possessed ten times the strength of the strongest human, quite possibly greater than Griffin’s own. And she was surely more than capable of the casual violence that lurked beneath the handsome appearance and elegant demeanor with which so many of her breed deceived the world.
Unless, of course, she was discouraged from proceeding any further.
Griffin carefully freed his arm. “Better leave justice to the authorities, Miss Chase.”
Her easy manner vanished. “Sure,” she snapped. “That will work. Because if these guys work for a boss, they’ll get off in no time.”
“I have a contact in the police department. He can see to it that they don’t escape so easily.”
“A cop who isn’t corrupt? That I’ve gotta see.”
He held her gaze through the netting of the veil. “You’re too young for cynicism, Miss Chase. Your soul won’t profit by it.”
“How do you know how young I am? And what makes you think I have a soul?”
“A hunch, Miss Chase.”
“And how did you come to be so wise?”
“When you’ve lived a few more years—”
“Until I become a doddering old graybeard, like you?”
“I trust you’ll never grow a beard, Miss Chase. It would not be an improvement.” He tested the steadiness of his hand and extended it to her. “Come along…”
She slapped his hand aside. Her coat flew open to reveal long legs in flesh-colored silk stockings, exposed from ankle to knee by her short dress. He was momentarily distracted by the brazenness of her garments and the flash of bare skin at her upper thigh.
“Enjoying