Page 3 of Love At the Gates of Hell (The Seven Sinners Trilogy #1)

He cut Luke a look as he plucked his picking kit from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. A look he hoped conveyed how irritating this evening had become. How much he wanted to kick his brother’s ass for getting them involved in this.

Luke, however, looked delighted as he approached Benedetta.

But she yanked her wrist back just as he reached for her.

“Careful,” she warned. “The iron—”

His brother seemed to understand what she was alluding to and showed her his gloved hands with a hapless shrug.

Gideon’s brow furrowed as he recalled one of the bits of vampire lore he’d learned over the course of the last year.

Something in the mineral was dangerous to vampires.

Vampires and other creatures he’d thought belonged only in fairy tales until his brother pulled him into a whole new world.

The entire shipping container was made of steel.

Iron lived in steel.

He looked back at Benedetta, eyes narrowing.

Perhaps Torretta wasn’t entirely truthful.

“This whole thing is a prison,” Gideon said. “What are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, a gleam behind her eyes.

But Luke was already picking through the lock at her left wrist, leaving Gideon to work at her right.

He couldn’t make out much in the darkness but he could see the marks on her skin from where the shackles rubbed raw.

And although she was putting on a good front, he could see her hands trembling as they made quick work of the locks.

The brothers caught them before they could fall and quietly laid them down.

They’d spent too much time as it was in here and he didn’t need them making any extra noise.

Benedetta let out a gasp as she was freed, her body swaying a little upon release. She reached out a hand toward the metal wall but seemed to think better of it, instead taking a deep breath. Gideon found himself reaching for her.

“I’m okay,” she said, waving him off.

He hoped she was telling the truth because suddenly there was a rumbling of something outside.

They’d come this far without having to get physical, each step of their plan perfectly orchestrated to keep that shit to a minimum.

The least amount of damage possible had always been one of their rules.

He cursed under his breath as he exchanged another look with his brother.

“Well, what do we have here?” came a lazy drawl.

Gideon tucked Benedetta behind him as he stepped out of the shipping container to see two vampires approach, looking incredibly out of place in cowboy hats and oversized belt buckles. Fangs out, eyes blood-red with matching veins simmering beneath the surface. Real ugly motherfuckers.

“I don’t know, boys,” Gideon replied, irritated. “What do we have here?”

“Trespassin’, it looks like,” the one replied, a bolo tie hanging from his neck.

“Good thing we haven’t eaten dinner yet,” the other one smirked from beneath his cowboy hat.

“Dude, if I ever sound that corny, I give you full permission to stake me.”

Luke had come up beside him, their bodies managing to block Benedetta from the vampires in front of them.

She seemed woozy, as if her energy was depleting by the second.

She winced as the lights of the dock hit her face and then stiffened when she saw the two vampires.

He didn’t miss the way her jaw clenched nor the bruising that lingered along her arms and legs.

Whatever happened, they’d done a number on her.

His increasing frustration over the night was slowly morphing into a kind of righteous anger he didn’t feel too often.

“Believe me,” Gideon said, “you won’t even have to ask.”

Bolo tie stepped forward, his teeth bared. “You can’t think you’re walkin’ off this dock with our girl here.”

“Buddy, we’re gonna do whatever the fuck we want,” Gideon said.

Which was likely the wrong thing to say to two bloodthirsty vampires because in a flash of a moment, they lunged forward.

Gideon ducked a punch from Bolo tie before it could land, pivoting to the side as the other went for Luke and Benedetta.

But he had to trust Luke could handle it because Bolo tie was pissed and his teeth were a little too close for comfort.

Gideon and Luke were adept fighters. They honed their skills as two kids growing up in a part of Philly that often forced them to defend themselves.

Gideon even found himself in the boxing ring for a little while, earning cash on fights put together by Frank and his men.

He didn’t like losing, and that pushed him to win every bet made against him.

He landed a punch in the vampire’s gut before he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, grabbing not for his gun but for the new weapon he’d started packing after Chicago.

The moment you realize vampires are real, suddenly they’re fucking everywhere.

Before his opponent could swing again, Gideon plunged the wooden stake into his chest and watched as he seemed to burn up from the inside out, his body exploding into a cloud of ash.

“You brought a stake?” Luke asked before he knocked the other vampire back with a headbutt. “You can’t just carry those things around!”

“Kinda seems like I can, considering,” Gideon countered.

“Prick.”

The vampire that he wasn’t related to wavered in his spot for a second before pivoting to where their new friend lingered by the doors of the shipping container, lunging for her with a grunt.

The wall was doing some heavy lifting to keep her upright, but she tried to straighten.

Before either of the brothers could reach her, the vampire grabbed at the dingy T-shirt she was wearing and pulled her close to him, her legs limp beneath his grasp.

She struggled, her hands reaching up to push against the vampire’s face as she tried to break his hold.

Then suddenly, a bright flash of light filled the dock and the vampire’s head exploded in a mixture of blood and ash, the rest of his body following suit shortly after.

Little bits of glass littered the ground, lamps surrounding them exploding along with the vampire.

How in the hell did she do that?

“Holy shit,” Luke muttered.

Dazed, she wiped the blood from her face, leaving traces of ash behind on her skin before she sunk back against the wall of the shipping container. A trickle of blood pooled at her nostril, and she looked down at her hand, her fingertips tinged black.

Gideon crossed toward her, reaching to help her stand straight.

“I’m fine,” she grumbled, a statement Gideon was obliged to ignore at this point. “They kept me out of the sun on purpose so I’d—”

But before she could finish her sentence, or explain what the hell she meant, she slumped over.

She would have dropped to the ground if it weren’t for Gideon catching her in his arms. He let out a curse as he held her, watching as her eyes fluttered, her lips parting as if she was desperate for the air.

“I need sunlight,” she breathed before her body went slack.

Sunlight?

She needed sunlight ?

It was three o’clock in the morning.

Gideon hovered in the doorway of his own bedroom, arms crossed against his chest as Cleo rifled through his dresser.

Benedetta had barely stirred on the drive back to their loft, and was still comatose as she lay in the middle of Gideon’s bed.

He had brought her to his bedroom on instinct, not even considering the leather sofa waiting for him in the living room once this night from hell came to an end.

“You cool sacrificin' these?”

Cleo was holding an old T-shirt and a pair of his gym shorts.

He shrugged and waved his hand.

He was too busy cataloging the bruises.

She had marks all up and down her arms and legs.

Like she’d been handled. Roughly. More than once.

She had a split in her lip and a real shiner on her jaw.

And there was a deep purplish blemish on the inside of one of her elbows.

He almost wanted to step closer, to inspect that one himself, but she was still out cold and he was a stranger.

They were taking risk enough letting Cleo clean her up.

What she really needed was a doctor.

They had seen the state of her apartment, had seen the photos Torretta’s men had taken the morning they realized she was gone. Benedetta had put up a hell of a fight. A fight Gideon knew well after her little stunt at Pier 82. His jaw was starting to ache.

“Torretta’s aware,” Luke said as he approached from down the hallway. “Said to call him as soon as she wakes up.”

“What the hell happened?”

Cleo was holding a damp washcloth in one hand, her eyes dark as she too seemed to be tallying up what had happened to Benedetta.

Working in the underground like Gideon and Luke, Cleo was no stranger to the dangers that lurked for most women in the business.

The pressures and obstacles they faced to be taken seriously, the men who tried to put them in their place.

She looked over toward Gideon and Luke, her jaw set.

Cleo was with them in Chicago. And had, in the past year, become a crucial part of their outfit. She had good insights. She could handle herself. Her penchant for acquiring weapons sans serial codes was an added bonus.

“He wouldn’t say,” Luke said. “But I think he doesn’t know. Not for certain.”

Luke paused at the threshold of the bedroom. As if he wasn’t allowing himself to step further into the room. There was something off about his brother. Something Luke knew that he wasn’t telling Gideon.

“What?” he asked. “Out with it. What is she?”

He had been thinking about the metal prison they’d kept her in, the iron chains… the moment that vampire’s head burst into nothing. He’d never seen anything like it.

“I have my suspicions,” his brother replied with a wave of his hand.

“What's that mean?” Cleo asked.

“I’m just not sure—” Luke shook his head. “I want to be certain.”

“Well, get certain,” Cleo said, waving the washcloth in their general direction. “As in get out— both of you. She needs to get cleaned up and in some fresh clothes and it sounds like you two have work to do.”

Gideon didn’t need the reminder.

Nor did he want to be here when Cleo undoubtedly uncovered more bumps and bruises and scrapes under Benedetta’s torn clothes. He was already pissed off enough. An emotion he was more than happy to point in his brother’s general direction.

With a nod to Cleo, he wrapped his hand around Luke’s bicep, ignoring his brother’s ‘Hey!’ as he pulled him into the hallway, letting the door shut behind them.

“What do you need to confirm what you’re thinking?” he asked.

Luke shook off Gideon’s grip with a disgruntled roll of his eyes.

“I can go to Harker’s,” his brother replied. “But that’s expanding the circle on this. I just don’t know who else would have the resources.”

Gideon scraped his hand across his face.

Torretta had been clear. The less people involved the better. But with his daughter laying unconscious in Gideon’s bed, vampire brains all over the docks of Pier 82, and a desperate cry for sunlight— Gideon wanted to have as much information as possible before they moved forward. In any way.

“Do what you gotta do,” he told him. “Keep it vague. Harker’s on a need to know basis until we decide otherwise.”

“Don’t be silly, he knows I’m just a man with a thirst for knowledge,” Luke said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Harker will be none the wiser.”

Gideon let out a scoff as he turned toward the kitchen.

He needed a drink.

“So, how long are you gonna be pissed at me?”

His brother’s question followed him to the bar cart.

“I don’t know,” Gideon replied, grabbing two lowball glasses and the decanter of whiskey. “You said this would be a simple retrieval—” He pointed in the direction of his bedroom. “She blew a guy up!”

“So she’s got a little… something,” Luke said, trailing off.

“Next job we pull is my choice,” he snapped, even as he poured his brother a drink.

Luke took the offered glass, a familiar expression clouding his features. The same kind of look he had as a kid when he was about to get them into a mess of trouble. His lips twitched as his eyes gleamed.

“You gotta admit, it’s interesting,” he said. “Daughter of mob boss goes missing. Ends up in a shipping container. Has big magical powers.”

“Yeah, it’s a fucking riot,” Gideon sighed.

“With a big fucking payout,” Luke reminded him. “Torretta has deep pockets, but I should have known something was off when I got the number.”

Gideon wanted to argue he also couldn’t get too preachy. He’d seen the numbers. He’d been there in the initial meeting. Torretta had played it cool, kept it business. Gideon never would have known what was at stake.

“What did Torretta say on the phone?” Gideon asked, elbows resting against the kitchen counter. “Exactly.”

“He cursed a lot,” Luke said, leaning back against the island, arms crossing against his chest as he leveled Gideon with a look.

“Mostly in Italian but I got the gist. Thanked us. Profusely. Said it wasn’t safe to transport her anywhere, especially not while she’s still unconscious.

Asked if we’d be comfortable keeping her here until she wakes up. ”

“Don’t see how we have a choice there.”

“Told us to call back with an update in the morning,” his brother finished.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Gideon stared down at the countertop, fingers drumming against the cool surface. They had no idea what she was. He didn’t have the knowledge that Luke did. And it seemed Torretta wasn’t all that interested in sharing.

Why?