by Mia Darien
“Well,” Collins began a moment after we heard the door shut. “At least you will only have to put up with me for three nights, and then I testify.” He gestured to the couch and we sat. “I hope to be better company living than dead, so to speak.”
“I’m sure you’re fine.” I didn’t settle in too much. Although we were now in a “safe house,” I remained on edge. After what happened to the last place, who could blame me? I had never been on a protective detail like this before. What did one talk about?
The protracted, awkward silence proved I wasn’t the only one. He got up and went to the other room, and I took out my phone.
And that was how the rest of the night went.
I wasn’t looking forward to work the next night.
After an exhausting day and the night shift, I had gone home and collapsed. I slept straight through the day and woke up only once the alarm went off.
Although I was happy that I had gotten recognition, as with most things, it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It had been boring. Now I got to do it for another two nights before making sure he made it into the courtroom for his star testimony. I would say for a man living under the shadow of assassination, he looked pretty collected.
I relieved the agent on shift after I arrived and proved I was who I said I was—a process that was far more complicated in an age of shapeshifters. I settled in for another boring night, but Collins had other plans.
“May I call you Serafina?” he asked as we sat on the couch. The television was on some reality show, but the sound was low.
“If you like,” I said. “Friends call me Sera.”
He smiled, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “I don’t know I know you that well, but then again, you shoved me in a car trunk. That suggests we must be on friendly terms.” He paused when I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re more than welcome to call me Ben.”
It was hard to miss that he was, indeed, a good looking man but he also had a disarming way about him. I wasn’t sure that was a good thing when you were required to be all FBI around a person, but still, it put me at ease that this night would be less boring than the one before.
“All right, Ben,” I said, wondering if this was improper behavior. I didn’t really need another mark against me with the DPA still over my head.
I’d read his deposition once I’d officially been made lead on the case. I knew that he’d been leaving a friend’s home when he’d heard the commotion and seen the tail end of the beating that killed Cameron St John—humans with “brass” knuckles made out of silver. As preternatural beings, like vampires and werewolves, are allergic to silver, it can damage them bad enough that a human could beat them to death.
Which was what happened. Ben saw it and witnessed those who ran away. They’d shot him with a silver bullet when they saw him and before he could get away. He “went to ground” right away, which (I had recently learned) was when a vampire could sink into the ground into a coma far deeper than what happened to them during the day. It allowed their body to heal better, like a vampire’s medical coma.
That explained the scar.
We chatted on and off through the evening. Around midnight found him standing and looking at the window. The shades were down, for protective reasons, but he looked like he wanted to see outside. I didn’t blame him.
“Do you know why I was there that night?” He didn’t specify what night, because we both knew I knew.
“Your deposition says you were visiting a friend,” I replied, curious where this was leading.
He turned to me with a rueful smile. “A suicidal friend. I was talking him off the ledge, so to speak. I was trying to save a life, and then what happens? I’m too late to save another and nearly lose my own.”
That surprised me. I couldn’t reply for a moment then asked, “Would you do it again?”
“What’s that?” His expression was curious.
“If you knew what would happen, would you still help your friend?” It might have seemed like a stupid question to most, but there were too many people out there that might say they wouldn’t if they knew they would nearly be killed.
“Of course,” he replied without hesitation. “It’s why I’m here. No one knew I existed except the killers, and they wouldn’t tell anyone. When I finally healed enough to rise, there was a cop car right at the end of the street. I went straight for him to tell him what’d happened, and find out how long it had been. I didn’t know until I rose.”
He had the bullet. His blood and brain tissue was still on it, proving it was in his head, and the rifling matched a gun that had been registered to the defendant. It explained why they didn’t shoot Cameron, but why had she brought it at all was the question. At the time, she had been a lowly member of the burgeoning LOHAV group but had risen quickly in the years to follow.
“Don’t you believe that if you can act, you have a responsibility to do so?” he asked. “You joined the FBI, so you must feel some sense of responsibility for others.”
“You’ve got me there,” I said with a smile. “I was a cop first.”
“Why did you join the force?” He returned to the sofa and sat down, turning his body to face me.
I narrowed my eyes at him, but not with actual rancor. “I’m the cop. Aren’t I supposed to be asking the questions?”
He smiled. It was full of teeth, but his fangs were “at rest.” He said nothing, but the expression was just as disarming.
“I guess it’s what you said, I felt a responsibility. There’s shit everywhere, bad things happening to people. I guess I thought I could...do something. And my grades weren’t good enough to be a doctor.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I guess that doesn’t make me particularly unique. Shouldn’t I be telling some dramatic story about what led me to this job?”
“Life isn’t always dramatic.”
My brows lifted. “Says the vampire star witness against the nation’s biggest anti-preternatural organization?”
That made him laugh. “Well, my life wasn’t so dramatic before that.”
“You were Turned into a vampire,” I pointed out. “Wasn’t that dramatic?”
“Remarkably? Not really. It wasn’t violent or a surprise. It was a mutual agreement.” He shrugged casually, leaning into the back of the couch and resting his head on the fist.
I smiled. “I guess that makes us a couple of boring people.”
The next night saw us playing poker. Never play poker with a vampire.
He had just raised the bet when there was a knock at the door. We both tensed and I pulled my gun, starting for it. Someone called the password, though, and I relaxed. I didn’t put my gun away however, not until I was absolutely sure.
I kept the burglar chain on as I opened the door to check through it.
I was greeted with the business end of a can of mace straight to the eyes. I shrieked and stumbled back a step. “Saferoom!” I shouted, pawing at my eyes as I heard someone start banging against the door to break the chain. I kept my gun tight but down while I couldn’t see and instead lifted my free hand, loosing a random shot of my electrokinesis. Someone let out a strangled sound.
Forcing my eyes open, I could see blurry images. Someone was on the ground in front of the door but I thought I saw a second. I released another stream, but they dodged back. I stepped back and dug my phone out of my pocket, calling the office for help. There was supposed to be an agent outside the building as well. What had happened to him?
As I staggered past the table where the poker chips and deck of cards remained, I saw that Ben wasn’t there so he must have taken my command.
My vision was slowly coming back as I hurried to find Ben, who was in the small room hidden off the closet. I entered and nearly got my throat torn out before he recognized me. I stared at him in the dim light for a moment.
“I wonder why you need protection,” I whispered, gesturing for him to follow me.
This hidden room connected to stairwell that led
to the basement and then an exit. It was an old building with many odd quirks, which made it ideal as a safe house. I could feel my magic lingering just under my skin, unlike the pits of my mind where I usually stuffed it. It was like static electricity to normal people, that feeling that no matter what you do, you’ll spark when you touch something.
I kept my gun out and held up, even if holding it and my magic so close together was painful.
This stairwell was narrow and dark. I knew he could see in the dark, but I wasn’t feeling so great about it. However, knowing it was a straight shot, I knew I wouldn’t get lost. I was more worried about someone following, but so far so good.
We reached the basement and some moonlight came through the high windows. I scouted everything and then went to the door. It was a non-descript wood creation at the very back of the building, overlooked by most unless they were looking for it. I checked to make sure that Ben was still with me and then I opened the door, using my aching eyes to peer out.
I saw a muzzle flash in the darkness and just barely slammed the door before a bullet drove itself into the door frame. My heart tried to crawl out of my mouth but instead a stream of curses that would make a sailor brush came free.
Right as they started banging on the door there, I heard them back at the metal door that led from the stairwell.
“Get down!” I shouted and then dropped my gun, putting my hands out to either side—one toward the wooden door and one toward the metal. I rarely had reason to stretch my powers this much, but desperate times... Electricity shot like lightning from both hands, striking bolts into the cement of one side and the metal frame of the other.
The end result was a blocked wooden door, and a melted metal frame.
I passed out.
When I woke, it took me a moment to remember where I was...and then I sat up like a shot. It was so fast that my head immediately swam and I fell back, only to realize that my head had been on his legs. Blinking up at him, I sat up again—this time more slowly—and looked around. We were still in the basement, and the doors were still blocked.
“You weren’t out for long,” he answered the question I hadn’t asked. “If they’re still trying to get in, it’s been quietly. I haven’t heard anything for a while now.”
I rubbed my eyes, which still hurt, and then dug my phone out of my pocket. I realized it hadn’t broken when I fell. Unfortunately, there was no signal down here either. I knew I had gotten my call out, but where were they?
“I can’t tell if this means I’m good at my job or really bad,” I quipped with a half-smirk, rubbing my neck. I looked around at the small basement. There were two windows, less than twelve inches high, toward the very top. I wondered why they hadn’t tried breaking them in, but then I remembered how many plants were growing around the foundation. Maybe they couldn’t see them.
“I’m not dead,” he replied. “Or at least not in a more permanent state of death. That’s something.”
I chuckled. It was something.
I heard the sirens about fifteen minutes later, right about the time I began doubting I’d actually talked to anyone in the first place. I heard some shouting, then someone tried to open the door, and then someone banged on the windows. I grabbed my gun, just in case, but heard my boss’s voice shouting through a few minutes later and let out a breath of relief.
“How well can a vampire move a pile of fractured cement?” I asked him with a tired smirk.
Despite their best attempts, Ben Collins made it to court and gave his testimony. The defense attorney tried to trip him up, but they really do give you a Cool, Calm and Collected spell when you become a vampire. He tripped over nothing and just glided through, totally together. I still didn’t know him that well, but I couldn’t help but feel a little proud.
Ben would remain under guard until the trial ended, but we were betting that LOHAV wouldn’t try as hard now that he had testified. Revenge was an issue, but a little less of one. We moved him to a new safe house, and there was an investigation—separate to my protective detail—to find out how they’d learned the two addresses. We suspected a leak, but that was my boss’s problem...until they showed up at our door again.
While Ben sat at the corner of the couch reading a book, I sat at the small dining table with my boss.
“So, do I get that DPA wiped off my record for a job well done?” I asked with a half-smile as I nodded back at Ben. I glanced over and saw him lift his eyes, smiling over the edge of the open novel.
“Yes,” my boss replied, to my surprise. “Only to add two more.”
“Oh, come on!” I exclaimed. She gave me The Look. I sighed and then smiled weakly. “At least I didn’t shoot anyone?”
CHAPTER 1
How had she gotten herself in yet another rough situation? Maybe she was a jinx? Or an all-things-evil magnet? Try to be a good person, help out my fellow man, keep my nose clean, and all that. And what do I get for it? A bucket full of trouble everywhere I go.
Quinn’s mind spun on a continuous loop as she sat in the high-traffic coffee shop across the street from where she worked, waiting to meet her rescuers. Outside the large windows, New York City bustled by, all intent on getting where they were going for the workday. Many were sweating in the summer heat. Inside, she tuned out all the conversations, both spoken and mental, with practiced ease.
What had her on edge wasn’t the noise in her head, but the conversation she’d overheard at work yesterday. People—ones like her—needed help. Fast. And then she needed to disappear, or risk ending up like them. She checked the door again and glanced at her watch. Where were the people she was meeting? They should’ve been here by now.
She tried not to shift as she sat in the green pleather seat, although her back was killing her. After spending the night in the cheapest, most out-of-the-way hotel she could find, with a granite boulder masquerading as a mattress, she’d concluded sleeping in an alleyway would probably have been more comfortable and about as safe. She’d try that out tonight. Maybe an alley by a clothes store, because she was already sick of the black pencil skirt and red blouse she’d been wearing for two days now.
“Quinn Ridley.”
She glanced up at the deeply masculine voice and sucked in a sharp breath. She’d been sent his picture, of course, so she would be able to identify him today. While her phone had shown her a man not remotely her type—dark hair longer than she preferred, beard hiding what she suspected was a highly masculine face with hard planes and jaw, and a deadly serious demeanor—the image hadn’t quite captured how tall he was, or the breadth of his shoulders and leanness of his body. Or, for that matter, the air of utter confidence and danger radiating from him, or the piercing blue eyes which seemed to see into her soul.
Daniel Cain.
Even his name instilled a strange combination of trepidation and confidence.
Quinn crossed her legs as a kick of unexpected attraction ricocheted through her. Damned inconvenient timing.
“Excuse me?”
She blinked up at the frowning man. Had she spoken that last bit out loud? She cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m Quinn Ridley.”
“May we join you?” He indicated the other seats at her table.
Oh! He had brought friends. How had she missed them? Shock bounced around inside her, joining the slow burn of attraction. Usually she was more observant.
When she’d called Delilah—the woman who’d placed her in her current job—for help, Delilah had mentioned Cain would arrive with a team. His friends were equally large, muscled, and intimidating. And equally hot, except her body wasn’t interested in them. All three men were dressed in pants and button-down shirts rather than the tactical gear they’d sported in the picture provided. Delilah always had the most interesting contacts.
Cain raised his eyebrows. She was sitting like an idiot, just staring at them. She gave a jerky wave to the seats. “Of course.”
“She’s nervous, boss,” one of the two men said to Cain as they t
ook their seats. How the tiny wooden chairs with their green padded seats held the three large men was a total mystery.
Deliberately, Quinn glanced between them with wide eyes, then took a sip of her coffee, barely noticing the rich flavor on her tongue as she pretended not to understand the language he’d used. Russian. Perfect accent. Interesting. Hadn’t Delilah explained to them about Quinn’s job, let alone her abilities?
“That’s to be expected,” Cain replied in equally perfect Russian.
She wasn’t nervous of them. She was pissed at what she’d overheard yesterday, at what people could do to each other, and was determined to find a solution. But if these men wanted to make stupid assumptions about what she might understand or not, she wasn’t about to correct them. Instead, she’d listen politely, then ask Delilah for a different team. She needed serious people to solve this problem.
Her glance strayed to Daniel Cain, who studied her closely. Did he suspect she’d understood? Maybe not so stupid after all. His air of utter confidence settled her in a weird way. What was with her anyway? She never responded to anyone like this.
Cain sat directly across from her, his blue eyes pulling her gaze like gravity. “I’m Daniel Cain.”
Duh. She nodded an acknowledgment, though she didn’t offer to shake his hand. Touch was complicated for someone like her.
“And this is Sawyer and Shaw.”
Two dark blonde heads nodded in turn.
“Brothers?” she asked.
One—Shaw, she thought—grinned. “Twins.”
That explained why the two men had the same general appearance—similar eyes, nose, builds, and so forth. “I see.” She turned back to Cain. “And your other associate?” The picture had showed four men.
He didn’t even blink at her knowledge of a fourth man on the team. “Max is outside in the car.”
Her shoulders dropped a fraction. Everything matched Delilah’s descriptions. “What do we do now?”
He eyed her speculatively with…what? Respect? Why? Because she was jumping straight to the point, perhaps? Did he expect her to be a frightened little rabbit?
