“If you make expensive call, I will know,” he warned. “I have food and water inside. Also, some bandages, yes?”
Cole was about to insist he was all right, but one glance down at himself was enough for him to realize he looked as if he’d been dropped from a plane and into a trash compactor. His clothes were ripped. His skin was dirty and scarred. He even smelled like war, which clung to the back of his nose as a mix of blood and fire. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it.”
“Was there trouble?”
“No,” he said. “It was just a really rough night.”
Vihtori obviously didn’t believe him, but wasn’t suspicious enough to call the authorities. At least, that was his read on the man. If he did call the cops, Cole hoped the other man had the decency to let him sit down and have a glass of water first.
“We wrecked our car,” Paige said while climbing down. “We’re still fuzzy on the insurance, so . . . you know.”
Vihtori didn’t know, didn’t believe her or didn’t care. He unlocked the lighthouse and showed them to a room. “He will wait here,” he said to Cole. “She and I will go to a phone.”
“Sounds fair,” Paige replied.
Cole was left alone in a small room that had a few chairs, a beat-up little desk, and a black and white television set he would have sworn was just as extinct as a Brontosaurus. Sitting on that chair, listening to nothing other than the breeze and the waves, he felt better than he could have thought possible. He started drifting to sleep and snapped awake again when Paige came back.
“Feeling better?” she asked as he stood up and approached her.
He nodded and reached past her shoulder to shut the door. Remaining in his spot, he pressed his body against hers and looked down into Paige’s deep brown eyes.
“I talked to Jessup,” she said. “He said Cecile was gone but that he could track her. Can he really do that?”
Cole nodded.
“Esteban is still a statue. Randolph is in the wind and probably won’t come back to that place, since a couple tanks and a few gunships arrived to lock it down. Let’s just hope those guys are IRD. I’ve gotta call Adderson, but not until I can get to a safer . . . what are you doing?”
“Touching you,” Cole said as he ran one hand along the side of her face and the other against her hip. “It’s been a while since I was this close to you.”
“Yeah, but maybe this isn’t the best time.”
“I don’t care.”
“What was that?” she asked as her eyebrows perked up and she backed against the door. “Just because your blood’s running hot and you were locked up for a while, you think you can pull the whole macho hero thing on me?”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
Paige meant to shoot something back at him, but was genuinely surprised when he kissed her. The moment their lips met, she embraced him and kissed him with as much aggression as she’d used to chop Minh or Liam down to size.
“I missed you, Paige.”
“Shut up. You’re spoiling the macho thing.”
Cole tugged at the straps holding the remains of her tactical vest in place and then pulled at the clothing underneath. When his hands finally found the smooth surface of her skin, he felt all his terror, hopelessness, and uncertainty drain away.
She smiled and unbuckled his pants with almost enough force to rip his belt in half. His hands continued to fumble with buttons and zippers before finally pulling her shirt open and working her jeans off her hips. She wriggled out of them and slid one leg up along his thigh. All he had to do from there was reach down to cup her backside in both hands and lift her when she hopped into his grasp. Paige’s legs wrapped around him and her shoulders knocked against the door. Their breaths were short and choppy until he finally entered her. Once he’d buried himself between her legs, both Skinners let out easy, relaxed sighs.
Cole stayed put for a few moments as everything else in his world faded away. It didn’t matter what country they were in, how they’d gotten there, or what remained for them to do. All he cared about was the smooth, familiar touch of her cheek resting against his and the miraculously gentle touch of Paige’s lips drifting along his neck. When he thrust into her, she sucked in a quick breath and held onto him tightly. There were no words to express how good it felt to be inside her again.
None were necessary.
“Pardon me, in there,” Vihtori said while tapping on the other side of the door.
Cole pushed all the way inside her and stopped. Judging by the faraway expression on her face, she wasn’t anywhere close to formulating an answer for their host. “Yeah?” he grunted. “What is it?”
“Someone called back for you. They say they are Meg somebody.”
Keeping her eyes closed, Paige started to laugh. It was barely a chuckle, but tensed her muscles in a way Cole could feel intimately. “Well?” she whispered while grinding her hips against him and digging her nails into his back. “Aren’t you going to answer him?”
“Okay to call them back?” he asked the door.
Judging by its voice, the door wasn’t happy. “They are on the phone now.”
Having laced her fingers behind his neck, Paige stared at him with a hungry, mischievous smile. Once again Cole’s entire world boiled down to one person. The tight curves of her bottom felt supremely perfect in his hands, and with just a little prompting, she pumped her hips as if riding him. Pressing his lips against hers in a hungry, desperate kiss, he pounded into her until her back thumped against the door. Paige leaned her head back and let out a long, contented moan.
“Artists,” Vihtori muttered before shuffling away.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Raton, New Mexico
Eighteen hours later
The hill where Cole and Jessup had met Rico was now completely cordoned off by the military. In fact, most of the town had become a base inhabited by men wearing fatigues adorned with a mix of Army and Marine Corps insignias. The only thing those uniforms had in common was a patch on the shoulder bearing the wolf and skull insignia of the IRD. Helicopters roared through the air. Armored vehicles rattled down the streets. Command centers had been set up in spots that were formerly in the quiet section of town.
“Well,” Cole said as he and Paige were escorted by Adderson and three soldiers carrying large caliber machine guns, “at least we don’t have to worry about news choppers getting too close.”
Dressed in simple khakis that could have been lifted from any Middle East conflict over the last couple of decades, Adderson displayed nothing but the IRD insignia and a colonel’s eagle pinned to his shirt. “You obviously haven’t been watching the news,” he said.
“No. We’ve been busy.”
“I’m sure you have, but it’s all out there. These creatures have taken over entire towns, which has made our jobs that much more difficult. What happened in Atoka is still under review. In the last twelve hours several Class Two shifters have been spotted throughout the country.”
“Half Breeds,” Paige said to Cole.
Grimacing as if her use of such common terminology hurt his ears, Adderson continued, “There have also been several reports of spontaneous transformations occurring in neighboring states.”
“Do we really have to go through all this official talk?” Cole asked. “You’re just adding syllables and wasting time.”
“You want me to cut down on the syllables? Fine. How’s this? FBI. Manhunt. Escaped prisoner. Oh, sorry. Was that last one too long for you?”
“Nope,” Cole replied. “Point taken. Continue.”
“You’re taking care of that escaped prisoner thing, right?” Paige asked.
Adderson nodded. “Already done. Just try to steer clear of Colorado for a while.”
They’d reached the center of the IRD barricades, which put them within eyeshot of a crude stone statue. Esteban still crouched on all fours and snarled at something roughly at Cole’s eye level. The Full Blood’s stone covering was a little dusty
but mostly intact.
“We want to contract your services on a regular basis until this crisis is dealt with,” Adderson said to her.
Paige looked around at the uniformed soldiers. “Don’t you have enough bullets to throw at these things?”
“Bullets don’t help. I don’t need to tell you that. Since you and your associates are the only ones to have hurt these creatures, I’ve been authorized to make an offer. You’ll be compensated for your efforts, but trust me when I tell you we can’t afford to take no for an answer. Things have gone way past the point of people like you sneaking around and covering up vampire raids as gang fights, or werewolf sieges as wild dog attacks. We’ve already been covering those tracks and now our entire unit has been forced into action, so you might as well come along for the ride. It’s either that or get rolled over by the machine you see around you.”
Paige closed her eyes, unable to think back to simpler days when changing a license plate or laying low for a while was enough to shake unwanted attention from the authorities. “I’ll have to contact some of the others to see what they think about this.”
“You could always give us their information so the IRD could—”
“Or,” she cut in, “I could do it myself. Nice try, though.”
“I’ll give you time to think it over, but don’t take long. We’re launching an offensive within seventy-two hours, with or without your help. Between you and me, your help could save a lot of soldiers’ lives.”
“Or you could just stick to lying to the media and keeping the cameras away from us while we do our job.”
Adderson shook his head. “Too late for that. And before you tell me about how tough it is being a Skinner, just know that I’ve got an appointment with several highly ranked officials to try and convince them not to carpet-bomb areas that show signs of getting half this bad.”
“So there really have been Half Breeds sighted?”
“In six different states. There are unconfirmed reports of sightings escalating internationally as well. Canada, the Czech Republic, and Finland have all made reports that coincide with Class—” Recognizing the exasperated look on Paige’s face, Adderson crossed his arms and said, “—Half Breeds, and at least one Full Blood was spotted. That’s just the first wave of intelligence, with more coming. We need expert help. We’ve got resources you could never match, and it’s not like you people could deal with this problem on your own anyway. Shouldn’t be much to think about, but I’ll let you talk to your partner.”
“Where’s Rico?”
Adderson pointed to a tent that had been constructed near a portable toilet and said, “Right over there getting medical attention, not that he seems to need much. That’s a trick that could do my men a lot of good, you know.” When he didn’t get a response to that, he added, “Naturally this offer extends to him as well. He was a definite asset to us here. Take a few minutes and talk it over. You know where to find me.” He walked away and took his escort with him, leaving Paige and Cole mostly alone at the top of the hill.
She got to Cole’s side as quickly as she could and leaned in to whisper fiercely at him. “I don’t like this!”
“I hit that point when we were met at the Casa Bonita Club by G.I. Joe and a freaking tank,” Cole snapped as he ran his hand over Esteban’s petrified back. “So does that mean you told them about the nymphs as well?”
“No,” she said. “I just told them we were calling from a strip bar and to come pick us up. They’re already in this and would have been dragged in sooner or later anyway. This way, we’ve got some say over what goes on.”
“You really think so?” Cole scoffed.
Paige turned away from the pair of modified AH-1 Cobra helicopter gunships being tended by a crew and said if a low voice, “It’s not like we could just wash our hands of this and take a vacation in Finland.”
“At least they could have let us get something to eat while we were at that club.”
“Didn’t you take anything from that buffet in Sven’s Viking Lounge?”
“Is that what that strip bar was called?” Cole asked.
“I don’t know! I can’t read Norwegian or Swedish or whatever the hell was on the signs in that place. It was creepy enough that all those girls knew Vihtori on sight. So . . . what do you think about Adderson’s offer?”
“First things first. I want my coat back from Canon City’s lockup.”
“Sure,” Paige said. “Let’s push our luck with that. What will you say when they ask about the other prisoners that got away?”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Since she obviously wasn’t buying that, Cole added, “You could fire back by asking where to find Esteban.”
“What do you mean?” she asked while slapping the Full Blood statue. “He’s right here.”
“Right. Too bad it’s hollow.”
She cringed, glanced at the group of soldiers clustered around Adderson, and then peeled her hand away from the statue to touch her palms. Cole knew damn well that she wasn’t feeling any heat in her scars either. When she slapped the statue again, it was hard enough for the sound to reverberate beneath the stone surface. “Did they take him somewhere?”
Circling the statue, Cole found the scratches along Esteban’s midsection as well as the multiple smooth spots where the petrifying substance had been administered. “This is the real thing,” he said, placing his palm against the stone.
“Well you’re the expert,” she said in a low, insistent voice. “How did he get out? Is that even possible?”
Cole dug out his phone and tapped a few icons on the screen. “I don’t know, but Jessup may know.” He didn’t get an answer, so he called the next number on his list.
“MEG Branch 40, this is—”
Cutting him off with a hastily whispered identification number, Cole asked, “Where’s Jessup? Have you heard from him?”
“Are you kidding?” Stu replied. “I’m surprised to hear from you! Every other Skinner has dropped off the grid. Nobody’s answering our calls, but a few have left messages.”
“Is Jessup one of them?”
After some tapping on a keyboard, Stu said, “Yes, but he didn’t give a location. The message he left is for you or Paige.”
“Could have started off with that part,” he growled.
“I didn’t take the message. Abby did. Anyway, there’s a phone number.”
“Give it to me.”
Stu rattled off the digits, which Cole committed to memory. Suddenly feeling very nervous with continuing the call around so much military communications equipment, he was about to wrap up the call with a quick goodbye.
“Wait!” Stu pleaded.
“What is it?”
“There’s chatter all over the place about what’s happening. People are getting killed and werewolves are showing up on the news. Reporters aren’t even bothering to call them anything other than werewolves, for Christ’s sake! What the hell, man?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Stu.”
“Tell me this isn’t as bad as it seems.”
It was a simple request, but one Cole knew he couldn’t fulfill. “Just stay safe and keep your eyes open. Don’t give out any information unless you get an ID number. On second thought, we need to change the ID numbers.”
Happy to have something to do that fell within his area of expertise, Stu said, “On it.”
Cole hung up and dialed the number that was already fading from his memory. The call was answered on the first ring by a familiar scratchy rasp. “Jessup?”
“Cole, thank God. Where are you?”
“Back in New Mexico. Where the hell are you?”
“About six miles outside of Louisville, Kentucky. I’ve been driving all damn day tracking Cecile. What happened with you?”
“Never mind that. The military’s got this place and us locked down tight. Where’s Esteban?”
There was a pause, followed by the rattle of an engine winding down. Kn
owing the older tracker, it had to be another Ford. “I stayed as long as I could. That thing just walked out and ran away.”
“What do you mean he walked out?”
“Stepped out of that stone shell like he was a ghost. I made some calls and found out what he was doin’ at that Colorado prison where you were being held. He was after some of them Nymar Shadow Spore collected by other Skinners. There were other samples down beneath that place. Older samples.”
Cole could still feel the Nymar hand clamped around his throat while he was strapped to a hospital bed, and could still hear the hungry rasp of the vampire’s voice taunting him when his body was almost too drugged to move. Shaking off those memories like so much cold water, he asked, “The IRD has been collecting Nymar?”
“No. It’s one of us. That prison has been there since 1868, but portions of it shifted into private ownership in 1904. The deal was made as part of an experiment in corrections philosophy but basically gave one man free access to prisoners to be used for his own research.”
“God damn,” Cole sighed. “Lancroft?”
“We knew Jonah Lancroft ran more than just his reformatory. He had labs and hidden facilities like this prison all over the country. Probably all over the world.”
Although Adderson and the soldiers were keeping their distance, Paige was becoming increasingly anxious. “Did you say something about Lancroft?” she asked.
“Wait a second,” Cole said while going through the potentially painful motions of waving Paige away. “You said we knew. Who’s ‘we’?”
“It’s not as sinister as it may sound. Your friend Ned Post was a Lancroft historian. Lots of us are. We could all learn a lot from a man like that. Now that his journals are being unearthed, he’s getting an even bigger following than he had when he was alive.”
“Lancroft was a murderer. He killed Ned,” Cole said while stabbing a finger into the air as if jabbing it through Jessup’s chest.
“What’s he saying about Ned?” Paige asked.
The harsh crackle that came through Jessup’s end of the phone connection was either static or a heavy sigh. “Ned may have had a falling out with the old man, but Lancroft had plenty of supporters, and after everything that’s happened, he’s got even more. The Full Bloods aren’t dead. Now that the Breaking Moon has risen, the Army won’t be able to do a damn thing against them. The Nymar are sitting pretty. Lancroft’s ideas may have been radical, but they may also be the only ones that make any sense. If we would have listened to him before, things may not have gotten this bad. At least one saving grace is that we got the cargo Cecile was carrying.”
The Breaking Page 45
