by D. Laine
“Do you suggest leaving them there?” Agent Spence countered sternly.
“No, sir,” Jake muttered. “But perhaps—”
“We’re running out of time, Agent Walker,” Spence reminded my partner. “You and Romero will locate and eradicate all remaining vessels found in Bozeman, Montana. We’ll worry about the consequences if the times comes.”
Oh, the consequences would definitely come. The world was already on edge. A killing spree in a college town wouldn’t go unnoticed by the masses of already panicked people.
Keeping the clueless humans in the dark was the part of my job I hated most, but I understood the need to keep them calm amidst all the chaos. No need for them to know what was going down until . . . well, until the obvious happened and our secret was out.
Maintaining that secrecy left us to deal with the consequences that sometimes came with assassinating vessels on the down low. I doubted that was what Jake was worried about, though. Breaking out of jail was easy. But the two of us going up against three vessels without the element of surprise to use to our advantage?
Unlike Jake, I considered the potential positives of the dangerous mission ahead of us. It would be good practice, like a warm-up for what was to come—sooner rather than later, as suggested by the events gobbled up by the media in recent weeks. Flooding in Africa. Volcanic eruptions in the Pacific. Tsunamis in Europe.
We only had so much time before the big finale, and the agency wasn’t close to pinning down our primary target. It was about to get a lot worse—for all of us—than three small marks in a college town.
AN HOUR and a half after we got our orders from Agent Spence, we entered the town limits of Bozeman, Montana. Deep in a valley framed by the Rocky Mountains, I immediately found it warm and inviting despite the rapidly dropping temperature outside. Even at the late hour, I could see it was one of those towns people came to in search of escape. Family-oriented, despite being home to a large university.
“What the fuck is this?” I grumbled from the passenger seat as the quaint and dark buildings that lined the street passed by my window. “It’s not even midnight yet. Where is everyone?”
I hoped things would liven up closer to the university, but I wasn’t optimistic.
“This isn’t Vegas,” Jake reminded me drily.
“No shit,” I muttered. “These vessels better be as easy to pin down as the last one. I don’t know how long I can—”
Jake whipped the steering wheel and slammed on the breaks without warning. My hands shot out to brace myself against the dashboard before I flew into the windshield headfirst. If this was another one of his “you should wear your seatbelt” lessons, I was going to body slam him right here in the deserted street.
I turned to let him have it, but he was already getting out of the vehicle. Grumbling under my breath, I pushed my door open to follow him.
“What are you doing?” I called as I caught up to him. Glancing over my shoulder, I confirmed that we weren’t going to get hit by a car while we stood in the middle of the street. My hand came down on Jake’s shoulder, sensing that something was off. “What is it?”
His chin tipped up, and I followed the trajectory of his gaze. With the way he was coiled up like a rattlesnake, I almost expected to find the vessel of Lucifer himself in Jake’s sights. But that jackass was a slippery son of a bitch, so I wasn’t surprised when it wasn’t him that had Jake riled up.
I saw nothing to explain his reaction. Then again, I didn’t consider the bronze statue of a Native American woman all that alarming. Sure, the way she towered above us from the five-foot-tall rock wall was a little creepy in the dark, but definitely not alarming.
“You going to tell me what you see, other than a random piece of art situated in the middle of town for no apparent reason?” I probed.
Several moments of silence ticked by before Jake answered, “That’s it. That statue. It’s the one from the photograph.”
I turned to take another look at the display. “You sure?”
I had seen glimpses of the photograph he referenced half a dozen times over the course of my ten-year partnership with Jake. Nothing about the view in front of me clicked with my memory, but I hadn’t studied the photograph of Jake’s twin sister nearly as many times as he had.
“Positive.” Jake finally turned to look at me, and I saw the memories that still haunted him reflected in his somber gaze. “Jessa was here. My sister was here.”
“Yeah, but that was—”
“I don’t care how long it’s been,” he interjected, anticipating my words. “This is the last place she was seen. What were the chances we would ever find it?”
“About a million to one,” I muttered, glancing at the statue again.
Lord knew how many dead ends we’d encountered over the years in our search for her. Nearly as many dead ends as we’d encountered in the search for my sister. I understood the hope I glimpsed in his eyes. I’d waited ten years to have a trace of the hope he had now.
“I guess we’re definitely staying now,” I concluded glumly as I cast a wary glance around the silent stretch of downtown.
A block away, the headlights of a car swept over us as it turned onto the main strip from a side road. It went in the opposite direction.
One damn car. One.
Three targets to track down and hit. That could take weeks.
Even outmanned in enemy territory, and with the apocalypse barreling down on us with frightening speed, I feared I would die of boredom before either of those things put me out of my misery.
2
Three shots of tequila couldn’t wipe out the smell of gasoline, burnt rubber, and smoke that assaulted my memories. I downed another shot with one quick toss, and settled onto my barstool as the hot liquid slid down my throat.
One . . . two . . . three seconds, and then the screams echoed in my head. They always came, like clockwork, after one of us brought up the past. Or stumbled into it, as was the case last night when we arrived in Bozeman.
Twenty-four hours later, and my unpleasant memories weren’t any closer to going away.
I lifted my hand to catch the attention of the bartender. “Gimme anotha un.” The strung-out college student hooked an eyebrow at Jake, where he sat beside me chatting up some girl. “He aint my babysitta”—I tossed down the twenty I plucked from the dead vessel yesterday—“an make it a double.”
While the bartender wisely took to pouring my next shot, Jake swiveled in his seat to lean close to my ear. “You alright, man?”
“I’m fine.”
He studied me with critical eyes. “No, you’re not. You’re remembering.”
“So what if I am?”
“Nothing good ever comes from it,” he reminded me—as if I’d forgotten.
The bartender slid the mind-erasing liquid across the bar toward me, and I lifted it up in the narrow space between us.
“I’m almost to oblivion.” I chugged the liquid down under my friend’s disapproving scowl.
“I’m working a lead,” Jake told me.
I focused my eyes on him long enough to decipher the tilt of his head. The girl he was talking to. She was a lead, not a potential hookup. Typical Jake. Too much work, not enough play.
“Can you manage to stay out of trouble? Make it back to the hotel room in one piece?”
“I got a better idea.” I held the gaze of a hot blonde as she gave me the green light with her “fuck me” eyes from across the bar. Tossing a grin at Jake as I slid out of my seat, I explained, “I’m going to go get laid. Have fun working.”
“Dylan . . .”
“I’ll catch you later.” I threw a hand in the air to cut him off as I zeroed in on the blonde.
Jake worried too much, and I was too fucked up to listen to another one of his lectures on proper grief coping methods. I’d heard the same speech so many times over the years, I had most of it memorized.
I needed something new tonight, and Blondie was going to give it
to me. Her eyes devoured me as I crossed the tightly packed bar. She would be an easy pick up. When I was in the zone, most were easy. My irresistible grin and military-toned body certainly helped, but I was pretty sure it was my confidence that won them over every time.
“Need another drink?” I called to the girl once I was in earshot. “Or you looking to get out of here?”
She licked her lips, and my dick twitched in approval. “I might be leaving.”
“Anything I can do to help you along with that decision?”
Her arms folded across her chest—not as a sign for me to back off, but to push out her cleavage. My gaze lowered to soak in the view she offered me. Impressive. My jeans were growing tighter in the crotch by the second.
“That depends,” she purred. “Do you like—”
Her mouth snapped shut at the same time a gruff hand clamped down on my shoulder.
“Can I help you?” a baritone voice boomed in my ear.
I caught the blonde’s gaze briefly before she tucked her chin. “Boyfriend? Really?”
She shrugged and suddenly showed a lot of interest in the half-empty drink in front of her. Obviously, I was on my own.
“Awesome,” I muttered before I turned to get a look at the cock-block with his fingers curling around the back of my neck. With a sweep of my gaze, I sized him up.
Big, but not much bigger than me. We stood the same height, at six one. Football-player type. From the small dent in the bridge of his nose, I considered the possibility that he was a boxer. His cold, steel-colored eyes and thinly drawn lips suggested that he thought he was a badass.
He nodded his head at the girl behind me. “She’s with my brother.”
One look at the Greek lettering etched into the front of his two-sizes-too-small T-shirt and I guessed that by “brother” he meant “fraternity brother.”
I calmly put my hand over his to dislodge the hold he had on my neck. “That’s a shame.”
“Just move along and no one—”
“I meant, it’s a shame for your brother,” I clarified smugly. At his puzzled expression, I added, “Because I’m pretty sure it was my dick she wanted to suck tonight.”
I swatted his hand away and turned my back without waiting for a response. The blonde’s eyes were wide with shock and whole lot of lust as I slipped by her barstool. She might have wanted me, but I wasn’t foolish enough to try getting anywhere with her again.
Not that I was worried about getting my ass kicked by a couple of frat guys. Hell no. If anything, I wanted to put the walking steroid in his place. I probably would have if I’d had another shot of tequila in my system, or if it wasn’t for rule number one-billion in the handbook.
Never engage with civilians.
I didn’t need to get into trouble with the agency again. That was the only reason I retreated to the bathroom to cool down. Standing at the urinal, staring at the two-toned white paint on the wall, I let myself forget about the encounter. I even managed to forget about the blonde. There were plenty of other girls here for me to work over, and the night was still young. I hadn’t lost out yet.
When I stumbled out of the bathroom, I nearly slammed into one standing in the hallway. I glanced around to find us alone, and realized that she was purposefully waiting for me. I squinted, trying to remember if it was the same girl from the bar, or a different one. I was pretty sure this girl’s hair was a little darker.
Hell, it didn’t matter when she looked at me like she wanted to eat me. Her eyes worked me over as I stepped closer. When she licked her plump lips in approval, I knew my night was about to get a hell of a lot better.
THE NEW GIRL told me to call her Liv. I told her to call me Jon. I was pretty sure she knew I’d given her a fake name, but neither of us cared a few minutes later, when she shoved open the door to her apartment.
My hands were currently preoccupied with her short denim skirt, so I kicked the door shut with my foot after I followed her inside. Her mouth latched onto my neck, and my hands cupped her ass.
“Roommate?” I asked.
“Out.”
I cast a furtive glance around the dark living room as we stumbled through it. “Dog? Cat? Gerbil? Or anything that might otherwise bite me?”
Liv’s head snapped back, and she raised an eyebrow at my peculiar question.
“I once had an overprotective ferret attack me,” I hastily explained as I tugged her blouse over her head.
“No pets will attack you here. I make no promises for myself.” She pushed against my chest, and I fell willingly onto the couch. She immediately climbed onto my lap, pushing her lace-cupped double Ds in my face, and I no longer gave a damn if something took a bite out of me.
In fact, I needed something hardcore tonight, and this chick seemed like the type that enjoyed it a little on the rough side. God, I had hit the jackpot this time.
My shirt was quickly discarded, and her hands were busy making quick work of my fly when I got a good look at something that instantly deflated my raging hard-on. Every other muscle in my body stiffened as my pulse skyrocketed. Fight-or-flight survival instinct kicked in at the sight of the slightly raised purplish-red swirls behind her ear.
Marks I’d only ever seen in photographs—the marks of a tagged human.
She was no simple human anymore. She wasn’t a vessel, either. She was something I had only ever heard about, but never encountered. Her strength was evident when she squeezed her legs around my waist like a vise-grip, and tossed her head back with a witch-like cackle.
“You agency meatheads are so hard up, you’re willing to fuck anything,” she leered.
“Hazards of the job.” One hand moved to half-heartedly attempt to pry her from my lap while the other drifted to the knife in the cargo pocket of my pants.
I really wished I hadn’t left my Glock at the hotel room about now. But then, I never imagined I’d encounter a tag at the bar, let alone go home with one.
One that somehow knew I was an assassin.
Considering the agency had barely scratched the surface on the weaknesses of tags, I suspected this wasn’t going to be an easy situation for me to get out of.
My fingers grazed the handle of my knife as she buried her face in my neck. Her weight and strength held me down in the chair while she nipped and licked at the skin over my jugular. Her breathing grew rapid and raspy, and I suspected she was preparing for a fatal bite.
My fingers encircled the handle of the knife. Her sharp teeth pricked my skin, and I swung my arm around with everything I had. The blade sunk through her ribcage with a sickening crunch, and she flew off of me with a vicious snarl.
We shot to our feet simultaneously. I held the knife out in front of me as if it were a shield, and she pinned me with feral, blood-thirsty eyes. A low growl rumbled from her throat—the only warning I got before she launched herself at me.
I expected her to go for my neck or torso—somewhere that contained vital organs and arteries prone to shredding. So when her teeth sunk into my knife-holding arm, I reeled back in surprise.
“What the fuck?” I rammed my free elbow into the side of her head, temporarily dislodging her teeth from my flesh—though she took a nice little chunk of it with her.
She shot a blood-tinged grin at me before lurching forward again. This time, I swiped the lamp from the table and swung it at her head. Porcelain and glass littered the floor at our feet, but she ran right through it as she dove for me again.
I did what any heavily trained combatant in the apocalypse-prevention business would do when faced with a flesh-craving, blood-thirsty monster.
I turned tail and ran.
I made it three steps before she crashed into me with the force of a first-string linebacker. My feet flew up over my head as I somersaulted backwards over the chair inconveniently located in the middle of her apartment. Somewhere behind me was the kitchen, but it didn’t offer me anything I didn’t already have.
I gripped the knife in my hand, and scooted
backwards as she stalked around the fallen furniture. When I hit a wall, I clambered to my feet. She charged from a few steps away, and I lunged sideways to avoid another collision.
I found myself in a hallway, with only one way to go. My fingers enclosed around the first doorknob I found, and I pushed the door open as her teeth grazed my neck from behind. I swung my knife-yielding arm out, catching her somewhere soft. She momentarily retreated with a growl, and I slammed the door shut. My fingers found the lock at the same time she rammed it from the other side.
“Shit.”
I backed into the center of the room. The little bit of light shining through the window allowed me to survey the cheaply made slab of wood separating her from me. A few hard rams, and she would burst through it.
I dug the phone out of my pocket and quickly called Jake. He picked up as the tag rammed the door again from the hallway.
“What was that?” he asked. I heard the thump-thump of bass through our connection, growing softer before cutting out altogether.
“You outside? Away from eavesdropping ears?”
“Yeah. What’s up? Where are you?” I heard the slam of a car door and figured he was in the Hummer, ready to come get me. Would be great if I knew exactly where I was.
“About four blocks from the bar. East, I think. Apartment complex near the university. Don’t know the apartment number.”
Jake sighed into the line. “Just meet me in the—”
“I don’t need a pick up, man. I need to know how to kill a tag.”
“What?”
Another loud strike vibrated the door, and I hollered into the phone over the sound of her crazed shrieking. “You hear that? That’s the chick I picked up at the bar. She’s trying to eat me. Got any suggestions?”
Jake had always paid more attention when we were being instructed on shit like this. I was more hands-on oriented. Hated the book work. Now that I was in the middle of a real life scenario, I wished I’d paid a little more attention to how we were supposed to kill these fuckers.
