by Tina Moss
“Not too sure ‘bout the details.” He frowned, wiping a rag over the tiled counter for the third time. “Only caught the tail end of it.”
“Could be something.” She shrugged. Can’t tell him too much. Guy tried to break through the pumping bass, probably to argue, but she raised the volume even louder. The ice began to melt in her syrupy, toothache-be-damned drink.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. In the meantime, take a load off.”
“That’s the plan.” She crossed her arms atop the table and rested her head, planning just a moment’s reprieve. It took but the span of a minute or two before the clinking of the espresso machine, the whistle from the teapot, and the chatter from the TV drifted into nothing more than white noise. Calm settled over Sera as she fell into an easy sleep.
A thump, a screech, and another thump threatened to break Sera’s rest, but she swatted it from her foggy brain like a fly. Images zapped before her eyes as she slept—a man in a dark mask, Coco bellowing curses, a woman with sharp, black as oil eyes.
Her mind struggled against a tide of drowsiness. She tried to keep the pictures in focus and even pulled herself partially awake. When a slender hand palming a cloth appeared inches from her face and a sweet scent filled her nose, she stopped fighting. Darkness took over her consciousness and she seeped back into much needed sleep.
“Sera. Sera,” a voice called to her from a dream, mixed equally with gentility and sternness. “Come child, dangers fall upon you. We must speak quickly.”
“What? Who’s there?” Her dream-self spoke into a void. Voices formed, but images remained aloof.
School time, pet. Come out and play now. Even in sleep, Guy pestered her. She’d recognize that annoying timber anywhere and wanted to curse. Could she never have peace from him?
“You fight against yourself. Why?” The stranger’s disembodied voice spoke again.
“If you want to talk, then show yourself. I don’t like games.”
A ball of light filled the empty black space, growing in size until it burst forth like a dynamite explosion. Dusted sparkles, remnants of the blast, danced along the air. In the center, a tall male figure appeared. His hair shone like spun gold. Eyes as bright as the sun eradicated all darkness. Impossibly luminescent skin pulled tight over chiseled muscles. A glowing robe covered his perfect body.
Sera stared, awestruck by the creature before her. “What are you?”
“No child, the better question is…what are we?” Soft pink lips curled upward.
“We?” Her mind tried to unravel the mystery as an odd sense of the familiar nudged at her.
“Yes, we.” His tone rang deep like an ancient bell. “I told you in the hospital, we are kin. You can feel the connection. You can hear it.”
“The hospital?” Droplets of light across cotton sheets, a golden figure, a man with the looks of a Greek god—the memory returned. “I remember. I thought I imagined it.”
“No, child, we may be speaking in your dream now, but I am very real.”
“Who are you?” Every muscle tensed. A knot formed at the base of her neck. “And don’t call me, child.” Her foot pounding over the empty floor crashed loudly even in the dream. “I’m twenty-four years old for Heaven’s sake.”
Her outburst must have caught him off guard. He shrank back, his glow fading to a dull yellow. “I didn’t realize this would pain me so.” His hand flew to his chest, rubbing over his heart in small circles. “Forgive me, but you misunderstand. I call you, child, not because of your age.” His fingers curled inward, a loose fist upon his breast. “It is my name for you. It was the same endearment I used for your mother.”
The tension broke first within her heart. It trickled outward from her core, chest, and limbs. Nerves snapped as her blood quickened. Words lay useless on her tongue.
“Sera, child, please do not be alarmed. I want to help you. My name is Helion. I’m your mother’s father.” He extended his arm, palm forward, fingers curled as if catching a baseball. Light soared from his hand. “Your grandfather.”
The dark void that surrounded them filled with dazzling golden hues as the light strained toward her. When it came within inches of her face, she found her voice again.
“What. The. Hell?”
His internal glow dimmed, never reaching her. “I cannot explain. Time grows short. You must stop fighting this connection or I will not be able to come to you in this way.”
Her eyes narrowed as her thoughts jumbled. “What way?”
“The space between, when time lingers, slows. The breath between sleep and awake.”
“What a friggin’ head trip.” She rubbed her forehead. “Ok. First off, what connection? What am I fighting?” Her blood boiled as a fire rose within her. “Second, what are you? And what am I?” The flames that reached her heart extinguished. Tears stung her eyes as the final question grabbed her; the possibility, the hope of family. “Are you really my grandfather?”
A car horn and screeching tires broke through the conversation. “I’m sorry, child. We’ve run out of time.” His dying light expressed an ocean of sadness. “Listen to your inner voice. It will guide you to us, to your family, to your nature, to the truth.”
“Us? I don’t understand.” The dream began to fade, the golden man blurring from her sight. “Wait, please.”
“Stop fighting, Sera. And find me again.” His voice dropped to a whisper, rumbling in the emptiness. With a jolt, her mind sprung awake.
“Are you injured?” A woman’s voice sounded over her shoulder.
Sera didn’t speak, her senses fired on high alert. She had no time to process the dream or the figure who called himself her grandfather. Slowly moving her head, she whirled about to take in her surroundings, her brain assessing the situation. The spin caused her vision to swim, but she still managed to note two steel walls, a metal grate and a pair of doors. The back and forth jerking motions clued her into the rest. Sera sat in the back of a van, her hands and feet bound in front of her with thick ropes.
Well, pet. What have you gotten us into now?
Chapter Six
Channel 9 News, West Phoenix, Arizona
Jame leaned over the ostentatious chrome desk, sure to give the News Director an ideal view. Her fitted black tank top coupled with the forty-five degree angle put her cleavage in his direct line of sight. Honey before the vinegar, as her grandma used to say, or Talon’s credo, Throw him off his game, then knock him on his ass. Either way, the plan was simple—distraction.
“So, Mr. Floyd, I know you’re a law abiding man and a caring citizen.” She propped a hip against the desk and bent lower. “You wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt, would you?”
“Please Agent Bradshaw, call me Harold.” His eyes lingered six inches shy of her face.
“Harold, nice name.” Smiling, she placed her palm flat on the desk. Her other hand strayed over the tops of her breasts. “And please, call me Jame.”
“Jame? Like James without the S?” His lips fell into a lopsided grin. “Very pretty.”
She batted her eyelashes, trying not to lose the momentum. The wave of nausea rolling in her stomach didn’t help. Her words came out a tad too harsh. “So Harold, what’s it going to be? Are you an honest man?”
“Of course. As honest as can be, which is why I hold true to my principles.” He slid back in his chair, a stubborn pout set on his lips. “I can’t reveal a source, not mine or my reporter’s.” His hands crossed behind his head. “It would be unethical.”
Drat! An inner grimace rose, but she clamped it down before it showed on her face. “We certainly wouldn’t want that.” She straightened and hopped onto the desk. Her ass landed midway across, close enough to the newsman to get the plan back on track. “See my friend over there.” She waved toward Bull. He stood in the corner unmoving, a living statue filled with quiet rage.
Harold’s gaze glided to the mammoth vampire. “Yeah,” he said coolly.
Jame’s smile brightened. Th
e newsman’s voice remained steady, but the sweat across his brow gave him away. Flirty cop, scary cop. Gotta love spinning the classics. She sighed, an embellishment, but worth it. “Well you see, I...” Her fingers fluttered to her mouth, drawing Harold’s focus back to her. She bit her thumb, suckling the tip. “I admire your integrity. Hell, it’s kind of sexy even.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Really?”
She reclined, placing her weight on one elbow and bending toward him. “Sure,” she cooed—well, she attempted to coo. It sounded more like a growl, but whatever. “Problem is Bull over there is more of an act now, ask later kinda guy. Know what I mean?” Wisps of black and blonde hair curled around her face when she shook her head. “Doesn’t have much use for integrity.”
Poor Harold’s lower lip began to tremble as he placed his hands on the desk. Her eyes locked on the movement like a shark. Gotcha now. She listened close—her shifter ears attuned to noises unheard by humans. His heart sped up, a triple beat faster than its relaxed rhythm.
“If I was a betting man...” He sat up straighter, locking eyes with Jame. His voice lowered to a whisper—not that it would prevent Bull from hearing, but the sensitive newsman didn’t need to know that info.
“Yes, Harold? What would you bet?” Now she got the cooing right.
“I’d put my money on my reporter’s boyfriend.” He winked at her. “Rachel’s been dating a local boy down at the four-one.” He folded and unfolded his hands.
“So your pretty redheaded reporter from the six o’clock news is dating a cop?” She played with his nervous hands, making small circles atop his steepled fingers.
“Yes, that’s right. And you know how them boys love to talk.”
She hummed an affirmative reply. “Anything else I should know about?”
“No, but if you leave your number, I can give you a call if anything comes up.” His eyes sparkled, flecks of light amongst the dark brown.
She sighed inwardly. He’d almost be cute, if he weren’t so damn pitiful. Prying intel from a puppy-eyed newsman on the verge of a midlife crisis was not on her dream list of PCD agent responsibilities. She wanted her own team, where she’d be the one calling the shots, diving into the action. A place where her talents would be more than simple seduction. Not that Talon treated her like a sex object—in fact, she wouldn’t be complaining if he did—but she needed more.
“So how ‘bout it?”
The question broke her from the self-pity spiral. Aw shit. What’s he mumbling about? She ruffled his hair, buying time. “How about what?”
His pulse rose higher with the contact. “Your n-number so I c-could call you...if I get any m-more information.” The stuttering made her have to focus twice as hard.
“Oh right.” She rolled forward and reached in her back pocket. “Here ya go.” Her business card shook as he took it in his wobbly hand. “Thanks for everything.” She blew him a kiss, hopped off the desk, and headed for the door.
Bull followed behind, but stopped short and rounded on Harold. His white fangs gleamed against the room’s dim lighting. “Real glad this didn’t have to get ugly.”
It took all of Jame’s willpower not to laugh when Bull winked. She didn’t quite make it, a small snicker escaped.
“See ya Harold,” she called over her shoulder as they exited his office.
Back in the main area of the news station, Jame signaled for Bull to mingle and search for clues. In the meantime, she headed out a side door to phone in her findings. Relief flooded her when Talon didn’t answer—no energy to deal with that emotional baggage right now—and she flipped the call list to her go-to gal instead.
“Hey, Meg. Yeah, I just got through with the News Director here. He’s tightlipped about his reporter’s source.” Jame leaned against the building’s brick exterior, her cell phone propped between ear and shoulder. “No surprise there. But we managed to pry some info from him.”
Bull exited the station’s side door into the alley. She waved him over. “Yes, yes, used my feminine wiles. You’re hilarious.” Covering the phone’s mic, she whispered a “Gimme one sec,” to Bull, then returned to the call. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Seriously?” She paused, hanging on Meg’s every word. “Whoa. That’s some heavy intel on our witness. So, this Sera chick’s got a record?”
Jame held a hand up for silence as Bull opened his mouth. “Let me put you on speaker so Bull can hear too.” She motioned for Bull to stand beside her, then angled the phone so he could see the screen as well.
“Been digging into our witness, and you’ll never believe what I found.” A political seal appeared on the cell screen. “PCD received a letter from a government office recommending Sera Benenati for our recruitment list.”
“Recruitment list?” Jame pursed her lips. “But she’s a civilian.”
“Exactly. No, military or law enforcement background. And on top of that our witness has a sealed juvenile record. Unsealed by yours truly, of course,” Meg said. Her furious keyboard tapping clacked over the line. “The police suspected her of starting a car fire when she was sixteen, one where a boy ended up in a coma.” A news article popped onto the cell’s screen. “They brought her up on charges, but eventually had to let the case go. Newspapers called it an accident, but here’s where it gets hairy.”
“Tell us, Meg.” Jame’s pulse quickened.
“Her father, Reginald Marsh, was police chief at the time. He made sure the whole thing remained under lock and key.” A photo of the man in full cop uniform appeared next. His dark hair didn’t match their witness, but his brown eyes sure did. “He put Sera in boarding school for a year, then she went to college in Phoenix. She changed her last name to her mom’s maiden name, Benenati. Apparently, father and daughter have been on the outs since. But...”
“Girlie, ya killin’ us here,” Bull said, stomping his big booted foot against the wall.
“Sorry, sweetness. Here’s the kicker.” An article from last week’s Toronto Times appeared on the phone. “Recently, Papa’s moved onto bigger and better. See the headline?”
Jame glared at the screen as if it would bite her. “I see it, but what does it mean?”
“Papa was elected as a Junior Senator. And politicians have a lot more enemies.” Meg flicked the screen to a sad smiley. “So, let’s pretend you have a daughter, and she and you were on the outs. Now, you can’t warn her if someone cracked an old police record, what would you do?”
Jame puzzled through the implications, but Bull solved it first. “You’d send the intel to someone ya thought could protect her.”
“You got it, cowboy.” A doctored audience clapping echoed over the line, followed by Meg’s raspy laugh. “Seems someone’s gotten a hold of the Senator’s dirty little secret, in this case his daughter’s past. And my guess is he sent the file to us in the guise of the recruitment recommendation, before shit hit the fan. He’d know we’d do a background check on any potentials.” She took a deep breath. “Most likely, he’s being threatened or blackmailed. By who, I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”
A knot formed in the middle of Jame’s stomach. “Meg, the murder sprees, could they have been intended for our witness?”
“Dunno. Could be. It’d make sense. But my gut’s telling me, there’s more to it.” More clicking and tapping vibrated from the phone’s speakers. “Gimme some time. Let’s see what I can come up with. I want to confirm without a doubt Papa Senator sent the file too.”
“Okay, Meg. We got news of our own. We think the leak on our witness’ identity to the news reporter came from the local cops. Apparently, the reporter’s dating one of the guys on the force. Bull’s gonna check it out.” She took the phone off speaker and pressed it to her ear. “You tell Talon any of this?” Silence ensued for a heartbeat. “Figured not. Yeah, let me get through this press conference first. I’ll call him after and break the news. Hopefully, you or Bull will have more to go on.” She smiled. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Catch you later.�
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Hitting end, she shoved the phone in her pocket.
Bull’s strong hands gripped his biceps as his arms crossed over his chest. Pound upon pound of muscle stretched under his T-shirt and jeans. His cowboy boots appeared polished as always. “Jeez Louise. Talon’s gonna be all-fired up ‘bout this for sure.” The scent of worn leather wafted on the breeze when he leaned closer. “Think it’s a good idea for you to tell him?”
“When you get back from the police station and I’m done handling these idiot reporters, I’ll call Talon. In the meantime, phone Slick and let him know the deal. Meg should have some concrete answers by then.” She shrugged. “Better Talon hears all the news at once, not bits and pieces.”
“Not what I meant.” His eyes glistened far too sympathetic for her liking.
“I’m fine, Bull.” She slapped his shoulder. “Gotta get over the school girl crush sometime, right?”
“I’m sorry, Jame.” He patted her arm. The gentle touch showed his expert control. His strength, both in his size and his natural vampire state, could be devastating.
“I know. Thanks.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t. Scratching her nails against the bricks, she opted for a subject change. “Anyway, let’s meet up back at the office. We can review there. Try to get some dirt from the local boys, ‘k?”
“That’s a job I like, digging up the dirt.”
“You sure? Don’t you want to talk to the press?” Her eyebrows raised, a quick shot of hope running through her veins.
“Nah, darlin’. That’s your department.”
With luck, not for long. Solving the case lay at the forefront of her mind, but even so, a plan began to take shape for her future. Visions of barking out orders and taking point danced in her head. “Yeah, all right. See you.”
Bull disappeared down the alley. His large body moved faster than his size dictated and surprised many a criminal suspect.
