by Tina Folsom
Their gazes met for an instant, and even from a distance of three hundred yards, Quinn recognized the aura of a vampire. He could have sworn the guy hadn’t been there earlier.
Fuck!
He lifted himself off the station agent, who, although shaken, appeared uninjured. Helpful hands reached for him, but the good Samaritans were only getting in his way. When he looked back at the vampire, he was already gone.
Now all he could do was damage control. He counted: two dozen people had witnessed the explosion. He needed help. Pronto.
Chapter Seventeen
“Zane, I need you at the train station on 4th and King, now,” Quinn’s frantic voice sounded through his cell. In the background, Zane heard a commotion. “There was an explosion.”
“Fuck! I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Make that five. We need damage control.”
Zane flipped the phone shut and looked toward the stairs that led up to Portia’s room.
“Portia! Come down now!” he yelled.
To his surprise, she rushed down the stairs a few second later, a stunned look on her face. “What’s wrong?”
A hell of a lot of things, but he didn’t have the time to explain.
“I have to take care of something right now. You’ll have to come with me.”
He snatched her arm and dragged her to the door.
“Hey, I’m coming, I’m coming. There’s no need to be brutal.”
Instantly, he released her arm. In his haste, he hadn’t realized how roughly he’d grabbed her. “We have no time.”
He shot out the door, Portia following on his heels. Luckily, he’d come with his Hummer today since he’d planned on seeing Samson toward the end of his shift. Since Samson lived clear across town, he’d decided not to waste time by walking. He was glad now that the car was parked right in the driveway.
He jumped in. A moment later, Portia entered through the passenger door, and he gunned the engine, shooting out of the driveway and down the hill seconds later.
The Hummer was built like a tank in more ways than one. Zane had only just recently had the windows coated with specially designed UV protection Thomas had invented. They, in effect, turned the car into a blackout van that a vampire could drive during daylight. No harmful rays of the sun could penetrate the windows. From the outside, the windows looked no different than the tinted windows of any SUV.
But not even the specially coated windows eliminated all risks a vampire took when driving a car. Getting into a traffic accident would be life threatening if it happened during the day, and any traffic stop was always a risk. At least, using mind control on some unsuspecting traffic cop would take care of being pulled over and forced to open the window, but if the windows broke during an accident, he’d be toast. Which was why the Hummer was also equipped with shatterproof and bulletproof glass. All precautions had been taken.
“Where are we going?”
Zane turned a tight corner and barreled down the narrow street trying to avoid the mirrors of the parked cars on either side of the street. “Train station.”
He concentrated on the traffic, his superior senses alerting him to other cars, giving him a chance to avoid any collisions despite the fact that he was reaching speeds of fifty miles an hour.
Avoiding busy Sixteenth Street, he took a side street and pressed down the gas pedal further. Three minutes had passed since Quinn’s call, and he was closing in on his destination. Depending on how many witnesses had seen the explosion, and how many people were injured, it would require both him and Quinn to make sure that the scene was contained, and that nobody would have any memory of Quinn.
“What happened?” Portia’s voice pushed through his thoughts.
“An explosion.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh my god. Is anybody injured?”
“I don’t know.” If they were, at least he and Quinn could heal them with vampire blood, but if somebody had died, they’d be too late.
The train station came up on the right, and he pulled the SUV to a stop, the tires screeching. He killed the engine.
“You stay here.”
“But, I can h—”
He glared at her. “You stay here. Don’t leave the car!”
Zane jumped out and slammed the door. It would have been better if he’d been able to come on his own, but he couldn’t risk leaving Portia alone in the house. She might use the occasion to run out on him and go to whatever fucking party was happening tonight. Those students for sure had a party each night.
At least with her only a few yards away, he’d be able to catch her if she pulled a runner.
He charged into the station and scanned his surroundings, spotting Quinn instantly. A group of people stood around, talking excitedly. Some were on their cell phones, most likely alerting the authorities or their friends.
Zane rushed to Quinn’s side.
“Help me wipe their memories of me,” Quinn requested. “There are too many for me to stop them from calling the police. All we can do is make sure they’ve never seen me.”
Zane nodded. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Anybody injured?”
“No. Help me.” Quinn pointed to a few people now sitting on benches. “I already took care of those.”
Zane concentrated and let his powers flow to the group that was standing near the lockers, gawking at the damaged structure. Warm energy flowed through him as he sent his thoughts out to them, infiltrated their minds and planted his own suggestions in them, erasing any memory of how the explosion had happened and who they had seen.
Minutes passed in tense silence as he and Quinn worked side by side.
“I think we got them all,” Quinn whispered.
Zane looked at him. “Now tell me what happened.”
“Is anybody injured?” Portia’s voice came from behind him.
Zane whirled around and glared at her. “I told you to stay in the car.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “I wanted to see if I could help.”
Portia craned her neck to look past him, but he simply grabbed her elbow and led her outside. He could sense Quinn behind him and cringed, hoping that his friends wouldn’t be able to connect Portia to the smell of his visitor from the day before.
“Hey, Zane, don’t you wanna introduce us?” Quinn planted himself next to Zane and smiled at Portia.
“Portia, that’s Quinn,” he grunted reluctantly.
When Quinn shook her hand and inhaled, Zane noticed his nostril flaring. A sideways glance confirmed that Quinn indeed recognized her scent as that of the woman in his bed the day before. Well, maybe all could still be saved. Quinn never needed to know who she was.
“Nice to meet you, Quinn. Are you a bodyguard like Zane?”
He nodded. “One of the best. And you?”
Portia opened her mouth to respond.
“Quinn, can we talk about the explosion?” Zane tried to steer the conversation into another direction.
“Oh, I’m Zane’s assignment,” Portia talked over him.
Shit, he shouldn't have risked taking her along.
“Assignment?” Quinn’s head turned slowly and his gaze crashed into Zane’s glare. He lowered his voice. “This is your charge?”
The warning was clear in the tone of Quinn’s voice. After what he’d seen last night, he would assume the worst. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Where have I heard that before?”
“Can we talk about the explosion now?” Zane gritted between his teeth.
Quinn narrowed his eyes. “Fine. But this discussion isn’t over.”
Police sirens blared in the distance.
“Let’s get out of here before the police arrive,” Quinn suggested.
Zane couldn’t agree more and pointed toward his Hummer. “Get in.”
As soon as they’d all climbed in the car, Zane started the engine and drove down the Embarcadero. At a quiet spot, he parked the car
and turned in his seat, looking at Quinn who occupied the back seat.
“Now give me the lowdown. What happened?”
“The locker was rigged with an explosive device. I smelled it, but that stupid station agent pulled the handle before I could stop him and the whole thing blew apart. We were lucky nobody got injured. I think your assassin planned for every eventuality.”
“Assassin?” Portia echoed. “Somebody is trying to kill you?”
Zane turned his attention to her. He shouldn’t have brought her. There was no reason for her to know all this. Yet, at the same time he wanted her to know what his life was like, the dangers he faced daily, the dangers she would face if she were with him. Was it so she would run the other way, or was he trying to gather sympathy from her? What the fuck was he trying to do?
He shrugged. “There’s always somebody out there who wants to kill me. What else is new?”
“But, that’s terrible.” Her hand clamped over his forearm. Shit, she was offering sympathy. He should have known that this kind of news wouldn’t make her shy away from him.
“It’s not all,” Quinn added, undeterred. “Somebody was watching. I saw him just after the explosion.”
“Human or vampire?” Zane asked.
“Vampire, possibly Hybrid. I couldn’t tell from that distance. But he saw me, and he knew I was trying to get at the contents of the locker.”
Zane clenched his jaw. “Do you think they sent him after Brandt didn’t come back?”
“Very possible. They probably knew what he was planning and had instructions to come look for him if he didn’t come back.”
Zane was afraid that Quinn was right. “Then they know now that we’re onto them. They’re warned.”
“Who are they?” Portia interrupted.
She already knew too much. He wasn’t going to tell her anything else. “You don’t need to know.” Then he looked back at Quinn. “Anything salvageable from the locker?”
“I lifted a cell phone. It’s all mangled and melted.”
Zane twisted his lips. “If he left his cell phone in the locker, I’m guessing he rigged the locker himself.”
“Could have been the vampire I saw after the explosion.”
“We both know how these things work: you go on a mission, but you don’t want to be traced in case things don’t work out. So you stash away any items that could identify you or where you came from, and you protect them.”
“With a little bomb,” Quinn interjected.
“Right. If everything goes well, you disable the bomb and get your stuff back. If it doesn’t, you make sure your enemies get blown to bits if they find the locker.” Zane made a movement with his hands, indicating an explosion.
“I would tend to agree with you. Unfortunately, there’s no way to know now if the bomb he planted could be easily disabled by Brandt. Therefore, we can’t rule out the possibility that the vampire I saw planted the cell phone and the bomb so we’d get a false lead.”
“In either case, we need to follow this lead.”
Quinn nodded in agreement. “I’ll give the cell to Thomas. Maybe he can get some info from the chip, if he can pry if out of that mess.”
“It’s worth a try. Can you have him look at it without telling him what it’s for?” All he needed right now was Scanguards finding out what shit he was in right now. Besides, this was private. It had nothing to do with Scanguards.
“He owes me a favor. He won’t ask any questions.”
“Then do it.” Zane started the engine.
***
Even after Zane had dropped Quinn off, Portia’s head was still spinning. She realized how much of a sheltered life she’d really lived so far, because while she was certain that her father, like any vampire, probably had enemies, or had to hide from people, she’d never felt the kind of danger that Quinn had just escaped. And that Zane might still be facing.
“Somebody is trying to kill you?”
Zane gave her a sideways glance before training his eyes back on the street, driving much slower than before. “Wouldn’t be a first.”
“But why? What did you do?”
“Why does it have to be something I did?”
Portia let the words sink in. “Oh. Then what do they want from you?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I do.”
“Let me rephrase that: it’s none of your business.” Despite the reprimand, his voice was even.
“What happened to the assassin Quinn mentioned?”
“I shouldn’t have brought you with me.”
“That’s not an answer. So, what happened to him? Did he get away?” She wouldn’t rest until she found out what was going on.
“What do you think?” he challenged.
A shiver ran down her arms, creating goose bumps under the sleeves of her sweater. Instinct answered the question for her. “You killed him.”
“Does that shock you?”
She swallowed and contemplated her next words. Was she shocked? Disgusted? Afraid? “No.”
Zane turned his gaze toward her, clearly stunned. “I killed him without a second thought. And I would do it again.”
“If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working.” Hell, why wasn’t it? Why was she not afraid that if Zane could so easily kill somebody, he wouldn’t hurt her? Hadn’t she pissed him off often enough to warrant his wrath? Wasn’t that reason enough why she should be careful around him now?
When he simply grunted to himself and concentrated on traffic, she slid her palm onto his thigh. Instantly, his muscles shifted under her touch.
“Shit, Portia, stop that.”
She couldn’t. Her body was on fire, the knowledge that he was in danger making her quest to have him even more urgent. “Are you gonna hurt me if I don’t?”
She noticed how tightly he clenched his jaw together as if to ward off some invisible pain.
“You could pull over somewhere and lock the doors. Nobody will see us. The windows are tinted. Nobody would ever know what we did.”
Zane slammed on the breaks and yanked the car to the curb. His eyes glaring red, he grasped her hand and pulled it off his thigh. “You’re playing with fire, Portia. Can’t you get that into your head? I’m a killer, I’m brutal, and I can’t be controlled. You don’t want me.”
“I do,” she whispered, ignoring her thundering heart and her galloping pulse. More than ever, she wanted to scream, but the last remaining shred of pride she had wouldn’t let her.
“You shouldn’t, baby girl. I’m no good.”
The sad look he gave her tore her heart in two. And whenever he called her ‘baby girl’, something inside her just melted, even if he didn’t mean it as an endearment but derogatorily, as a way to put her in her place.
Instinctively, she raised her palm and reached for his face, wanting to stroke his cheek and show him that he too deserved love. But he was too quick; he pulled back and slipped the Hummer in gear.
She was crazy, but now that she knew he was in danger, she felt this inexplicable urge to protect him. It was stupid, of course. After all, he was a bodyguard and there to protect her, not the other way around. Besides, he didn’t want her help. His abrasive behavior was clear indication that he wanted to keep his distance from her.
“Can we go for a drive?”
“Why?” he retorted.
“I don’t want to go home yet. I feel cooped up there.”
“I understand.”
Surprised at his response she looked at his profile. Maybe they weren’t that different after all. They were both essentially alone. And while she didn’t have an assassin gunning for her, she had a deadline looming over her head that felt just as urgent. Five weeks to her birthday and the day her body would set into its final form, never to change again. She had choices to make: how long she wanted to keep her hair, whether she should lose a pound or two before, things that seemed trivial all of a sudden.
“What’s it like to be turned?” She�
��d been born into it, but for a vampire like Zane, who’d been human once, it had to have been a different experience.
The knuckles of Zane’s hands grew white as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. “It’s hell.”
Her heart clenched instinctively. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“Ever heard of compassion?” Could he not even accept that she was sorry for the pain he’d gone through? That she wished so much to be able to soothe it?
Zane ignored her remark. “I survived. But they’ve paid for it.”
“Paid?” She held her breath, not sure whether she wanted to know or not.
He graced her with a sideways glance. “The men who turned me.”
“There was more than one?” She didn’t quite understand.
“There was a group of them. They’re dead now, all but one of them.” Then he sought her eyes, locked his gaze with hers, and continued, “I killed them, one by one, slowly and painfully.”
Portia gasped, her heart stuttering to a complete halt. She wanted to say something, but no words came over her lips. He’d killed the men who’d turned him. Men? “I don’t understand. Did several vampires turn you?”
He shook his head and looked back at traffic. They were driving through a golf course now, but Portia didn’t look out the window to enjoy the view.
“There were five of them. And they were human.”
“But—”
Zane cut her off. “I don’t want to talk about it. So, either you stop asking about it or I’ll drive you home now.”
Portia clamped her mouth shut and nodded.
A few moments later, Zane stopped the car and turned off the engine.
“There’s a great view of the Golden Gate Bridge from here.”
He opened the door and climbed out. Portia followed him and crossed the street. Beyond it was another hole of the golf course, and past that she saw the San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge which stretched over its entrance. Illuminated by lights, it shone in red and orange colors.
“It’s beautiful,” she admitted, and stopped next to Zane.
