Bad Blood Read online

  Praise for L. A. BANKS

  &

  THE VAMPIRE HUNTRESS LEGEND SERIES

  THE DAMNED

  “All hell breaks loose—literally—in the complex sixth installment . . . stunning.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “In [The Damned], relationships are defined, while a dark energy threatens to destroy the entire squad. Banks’ method of bringing Damali and Carlos back together is done with utmost sincerity and integrity. They have a love that can weather any storm, even when dire circumstances seem utterly overwhelming. Fans of this series will love The Damned and, no doubt, will eagerly await the next book.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  THE FORBIDDEN

  “Passion, mythology, war and love that lasts till the grave—and beyond . . . fans should relish this new chapter in a promising series.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Superior vampire fiction.”

  —Booklist

  THE BITTEN

  “Seductive . . . mixing religion with erotic horror dosed with a funky African-American beat, Banks blithely piles on layer after layer of densely detailed plot . . . will delight established fans. Banks creates smokin’ sex scenes that easily out-vamp Laurell K. Hamilton’s.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  MORE . . .

  “The stakes have never been higher, and the excitement and tension are palpable in this installment of Banks’ complex, sexy series.”

  —Booklist

  “Duties, pain, responsibilities—what this duo does in the name of love is amazing.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  THE HUNTED

  “A terrifying roller-coaster ride of a book.”

  —Charlaine Harris

  “Hip, fresh, and fantastic.”

  —Sherrilyn Kenyon,

  New York Times bestselling author of Dark Side of the Moon

  THE AWAKENING

  “An intriguing portrait of vampiric society, reminiscent of Anne Rice and Laurell K. Hamilton.”

  —Library Journal

  “Again, Banks brilliantly combines spirituality, vampires, and demons (and hip-hop music) into a fast-paced tale that is sure to leave fans of her first novel, Minion, panting for more.”

  —Columbus Dispatch

  MINION

  “[Minion] literally rocks the reader into the action-packed underworld power struggle between vampire rivals with a little demon juice thrown in. Cutting-edge wit and plenty of urban heat flies from the pages of this quick read.”

  —Philadelphia Sunday Sun

  “[A] tough, sexy new vampire huntress challenges the dominance of Anita Blake and Buffy . . . Damali is an appealing heroine, the concept is intriguing, and the series promising.”

  —Amazon.com

  ALSO BY L. A. BANKS

  NOVELS

  The Darkness

  The Cursed

  The Wicked

  The Damned

  The Forsaken

  The Forbidden

  The Bitten

  The Hunted

  The Awakening

  Minion

  ANTHOLOGIES

  Stroke of Midnight

  Love at First Bite

  My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding

  BAD

  BLOOD

  A Crimson Moon Novel

  L. A. BANKS

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks

  NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  BAD BLOOD

  Copyright © 2008 by Leslie Esdaile Banks.

  Excerpt from Bite the Bullet copyright © 2008 by Leslie Esdaile Banks.

  Excerpt from The Shadows copyright © 2008 by Leslie Esdaile Banks.

  Cover photo of woman © Barry David Marcus. Cover photo of background image © Jupiter Images.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  ISBN: 0-312-94911-1

  EAN: 978-0-312-94911-2

  Printed in the United States of America

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / April 2008

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  DEDICATION

  Sometimes the road less traveled, and oft times the one that leads toward truth, is paved with blood and gore . . . this is for all those who have made the ultimate sacrifice to stand against injustice, those who rally against human suffering, those who shout “Stop the violence,” those who fight for freedom, those who warn us of environmental arrogance, those who actively protest that which is wrong, the ones who’ve taken a bullet . . . the fallen, the wounded, the unfairly incarcerated, the courageous, the protectors of the innocent . . . this story is for anyone who wittingly and unwittingly went where angels fear to tread, but who had honorable intent pulsing within them like their very heartbeat. All I can say is thank you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As only my editor, Monique Patterson, and my agent, Manie Barron, can do with such aplomb—those two have once again put their heads together to come up with another colossal project: Thank You! I also want to thank the St. Martin’s “dream team,” the folks who work behind the scenes to make everything go off without a hitch: Kia, Colleen, Harriet, Michael, and company . . . Big Philly Hug! I also want to extend my deepest thanks for the wonderful support of Walt Stone at Dream Forge Media, for yet another awesome website. Plus, where would this be without the warm and wonderful support of my sister-authors? Bless you ladies for reading multiple versions of this tale and being so generous with your blurbs! Thank you for the love. And to the VHL Street Team members, who have already preordered this book, LOL—I LOVE YOU!

  PROLOGUE

  Denver, Colorado . . .

  “DOOR’S OPEN!” SASHA yelled without even looking up, as she clutched the confusing set of directions in her hand and stared at the mess of parts on her living room floor.

  She knew it was her guys; the thudding footfalls and loud banter between them were always a dead giveaway. In a second they’d both come tumbling through the door like a pair of wolf pups—Woods with his cocky sex-machine grin and Fisher with his baby face.

  When the door banged open, Sasha looked up and couldn’t remain peeved even if she’d wanted to. Those two were lovable polar opposites. All she could do was smile.

  Fish was a tall, lanky, Kentucky-bred blond with the bluest, kindest eyes in the whole world. She was older than him by two years and she thought of him as the younger brother she had never had. But in a fight, Fisher was fierce and played for keeps. A good man to have at your back when something otherworldly was closing in.

  “I smell pizza,” Woods said, heading for the kitchen without a hello. He gave Sasha a dashing smile as he passed her. “Beer, I’m oh so sure, is in the fridge, right?” He looked over his shoulder, waggled his eyebrows, and blew her a kiss. “We’ve got dibs on the TV, since you’re making us work during prime time.”

  “Save it for the ladies at the bar,” Sasha said, teasing him, but secretly glad that he’d decided to hang out for the duration of a game. If Woodsy stayed that meant Fisher would stay . . . and she was sure that on a Saturday night Woods had plenty of other
places he could be.

  Woods was typically handsome with brown hair, dark eyes, broad shoulders, and a muscular build. He cleaned up real nice when he put on his military blues. She knew that he had had more than his share of willing females back in West Virginia. Hell, he had more than his fair share scattered all over Denver.

  “Okay, so tell me again why a Marine Corps–bred, Delta One, highly trained, superintelligent chick from the PCU needs all her pack members to put together her Ikea bookshelf and entertainment center on a Saturday night?” Woods said as he came out of the kitchen toting two beers in one hand while chomping on a slice of pepperoni and sausage pizza with the other.

  “Because I want this done before we have to move out again. I hate leaving things unfinished,” she argued.

  “You’ve got OCD, Trudeau,” Woods said. “You know that, right? It’s a sickness, this everything-in-its-place-before-you-deploy superstition thing you’ve got going on!”

  “Well, if you guys can’t handle the directions, that’s all you had to say.” Sasha jumped to her feet and headed to the kitchen to get herself a slice of pizza.

  “You hear a challenge, Fish?” Woods beamed at Fisher and handed off one of the beers to him.

  “The Paranormal Containment Unit not only hears but accepts the challenge,” Fisher said, laughing as he saluted the lieutenant and then howled, causing Woods to join in.

  “I also don’t know why the pack’s beta needs an assist, but as long as there’s brewskis, who’s arguing?” Woods said.

  A snappy comeback escaped her; so instead, she bit into a slice of pizza and rolled her eyes at Fisher to make him laugh again. In truth, she could have put the furniture together herself and carried the freaking wall unit across the room, if necessary, but that wasn’t the issue. Worry nagged her gut, and before they each received a new deployment assignment, she wanted to hang out with them a little bit. Then there was the not so small reality that when it came to putting together inexpensive but fashionable furniture, misery loved company. Especially on a Saturday night. Yeah, okay, so maybe she also needed to get a life.

  “Because it’s a conspiracy,” Sasha finally said, ignoring the jubilant banter coming from Woods and Fisher, who had long since found more beer in her fridge. “There is no L-wrench, and I swear they have fifteen different-sized screws that all look the same just to piss you off!” She looked down at the piles of nuts, bolts, screws, and washers on the floor at her feet and practically growled.

  Her two pack mates smirked and clinked their bottles of beer together. Fisher had jammed so much pizza into his mouth that his cheeks bulged like a squirrel’s.

  Suddenly there was a low rumble of laughter and Sasha turned to see Rod Butler walking into her apartment. Their fearless leader had arrived. Rod was the pack’s alpha and it was easy to see why. He was tall, at least six two, broad shouldered with a tightly corded body, and when he moved his power rolled off him, dominating everyone around him. He had startlingly green eyes and red hair that spoke of his Irish ancestry. He wasn’t typically handsome, but he exuded sex appeal even when he wasn’t trying.

  Rod stood in the doorway chuckling low in his throat and shook his head as he shed his bomber jacket. “Trudeau, you know I’m never gonna let this incident go, right? I’ll be razzing you until that gorgeous black hair of yours goes stone gray.”

  Sasha flipped him the bird and then slapped the instructions against Rod’s stone-cut chest, completely annoyed by the merry twinkle in his eyes and the way his handsome mouth offered her a lopsided grin. The backhanded compliment was slightly out of place for their normal siblinglike banter. She wanted to yank a handful of his hair as she passed him, but thought better of it.

  Theirs had always been a big brother! little sister, mentor! protégée relationship but lately Rod seemed interested in something else that she wouldn’t even acknowledge. It was a dangerous thing in a squad, especially within a small tactical unit like theirs. It was best to keep it light, neutral, and totally platonic. She snatched more instruction sheets off the floor, ignoring the jubilant comments coming from the other guys . . . ignoring the way Rod’s eyes followed her body as she bent and remained on her ass until her face burned.

  “Lemme see that,” Rod said, walking over to her and grabbing the crumpled directions from her. “If you just—”

  “Watch it, Cap. We just got here and she’s already driving us crazy, and as you can see from the leaning tower of pizza,” Woods said, guzzling a Budweiser, and then using his bottle to indicate the botched wall-unit attempt, “she might take a swing at you.”

  “Ohmigod. You did not say ‘leaning tower of pizza.’ ” Sasha closed her eyes and slapped her forehead as Woods made a Frisbee of the huge box and sent it into Rod’s grasp. “That’s Pisa, and hey, watch the rug!”

  “My bad,” Fisher said, laughing and dabbing the rug with his T-shirt as the beer he’d just opened foamed over onto it. “But, hey, we don’t read all that fancy stuff, like you, Trudeau. You’re the diplomat—me and Woodsy just follow orders and blow shit up.”

  “Chivalry is dead,” Woods mumbled over a mouthful of pepperoni and sausage pizza. “I think we blew that sucker up, too, on the last mission, right, Fish? Glad we’ve got a couple of weeks before we have to roll out again.”

  Fisher raised his bottle and saluted the lieutenant with a grin.

  Rod opened the pizza box, wolfing down a slice as he leaned against the wall. “So you mean to tell me that between the three of you, you guys couldn’t match up widget A with screw B and put together this furniture? Remind me of that when they send us out on another explosives detail.”

  “Oh, so now the man has jokes,” Fisher said, mischief causing his blue eyes to light with the excitement of a challenge. “I can hot-wire anything. But I don’t do furniture. Too domestic. C-4 and cell phones, I’m much better with. Fifty bucks says there’s pieces missing.” He dragged his fingers through his blond spikes and forced his wiry frame up off the floor in one fluid sit-up, beaming at Rod.

  “Aw, here we go . . .” Woods moaned. True pity shimmered in his eyes.

  “You always get your ass kicked in poker, Fish—when are you gonna learn? Don’t bet Fearless Leader, man.”

  Sasha began banging her head against the wall when Rod got the look. Anybody who knew Captain Rod Butler knew when he got that hungry look they’d all be in for a long night of unrelenting challenge. Once Rod got hold of something, he couldn’t let it go. “Please, anybody, somebody, put the frickin’ wall unit and bookcase together, that’s all a woman asks. I fed you. I bought you beer.”

  “Under control,” Rod said, giving her a look that not only sent a mild tremor through her, but that made her nervous. He’d never looked at her like that. There was nothing brotherly or platonic about it.

  “Let a real professional go to work,” Woods said. “Don’t you just love the alpha challenge?”

  Moonlight sent a wide swath of light through her apartment. Music blared heavy percussion through her Bose system. But every time she glanced up, Rod’s line of vision hunted hers, cornered it, and made her fidget and look away. It was unnerving to have the dynamic of their relationship change so suddenly.

  To avoid any catastrophic eye contact, she skirted the edge of the threesome who were now on the floor on their hands and knees sorting parts again, working as a team, and mercilessly ribbing each other. The specifics of their banter became muddied, the sound of their voices distant as she watched Rod glance at her, then look out the window at the luminous disk that seemed to mesmerize him long enough to stop time. Worry formed small beads of perspiration on her forehead. Rod needed his meds. Something was wrong. Maybe she needed hers, too.

  “Trudeau is on a mission, Cap—so don’t blame me,” Woods said, guzzling beer. “Ask her why this had to be done tonight.”

  “Speaking of mission, I’ve gotten our orders.”

  Everyone looked to Rod.

  “Woods, Fisher, and I will be shipping out
to Nicaragua in two days. Gonzalez, Johnson, and Sherwin will also be a part of the team. Trudeau isn’t on this deploy. Specifics about our assignment will be handed down when we report to base tomorrow at six hundred hours.”

  “It’s going to be a full moon in two days,” Sasha said, surprised. They’d always monitored them, had them hooked up to machines, testing them during a full moon. And after the tests were the hard training missions, but never too far from a base in an isolated environment. Worse yet, the team was being split up—she wasn’t being given orders to move out with them. Scrambling for words, she tried to keep anxiety out of her tone. “So now they’re sending us in different directions on a full moon? What gives?”

  “It will be the first of many,” Rod said. “I guess they finally think we can handle it.” His tone sounded a little bitter. Rod had never been too cool about having his leash yanked whenever the brass felt it was necessary. “Besides,” he told Sasha with a slight smile, “you can handle it, right?”

  You’re pathetic, she told herself when her face heated.

  To distract herself, Sasha put her hands on her hips and replied, keeping her tone cocky to disguise her concerns. “Well, then you’d better get to work because there’s no way I’m coming back from my mission to this mess.”

  Rod gave her another sexy smile and saluted. “You heard the lady. Let’s do the damn thing, gentlemen.”