Vendetta

by Nancy Holder

  He got out of the car and crept through the snow to a better vantage point. He was so ragged by then that if someone came for him, he didn’t know what he could do except call 911.

  That was a bit of a joke, but it dawned on him that maybe he could do just that. So he pulled his phone out of his pocket, realizing that the signal booster was back in the car. As he walked back toward it, he ran his gloved hand over the faceplate, wishing he had been able to bring his touch-sensitive gloves, the ones he could make calls with. As it was, he’d have to take off his gloves to—

  Wait. He pressed his fingertips over the front of the phone again. In the upper right corner was a tiny little bump that shouldn’t be there. A piece of dirt?

  Something Celeste put on it?

  He hurried into the car and turned the key so that the instrument panel lit up, reaching up quickly to turn off the dome light. He took off his glove and scraped at the bump with his fingernail.

  It detached, and he caught in his palm.

  He got back out of the car and ran to the road. He pulled off his other glove with his teeth and rubbed his hands together briskly. He felt the bump, and he kept rubbing until he didn’t feel it anymore.

  Then he returned to his car, made sure that all the lights were off, and watched.

  The car crested the hill.

  His mouth dropped open in surprise.

  Catherine’s car zoomed right past him.

  * * *

  “J.T.,” Cat said into the phone.

  “I lost the signal,” J.T. reported. “But you’re close to the motel.”

  Catherine turned off her headlights and slowed to a crawl. Beside her, Vincent got quiet.

  He said, “There are people there. And one of them is your father.”

  Cat pulled to the side of the road and they both climbed out. She pulled her weapon.

  Vincent prepared to become a weapon.

  As they approached, a cry went up. Someone had been keeping watch from the roof of the motel, and they spotted Catherine and him in the moonlight. People came at them, half a dozen, and before he beasted out, Vincent said, “Your father’s in there.” He pointed to one of the motel room doors.

  Shots rang out. People began to yell.

  “I should be out here with you,” she said.

  “Get your father,” he replied.

  She heard Vincent roar as she ran to the door and tried the knob. It was locked. She shot it and kicked the door open. Moonlight filtered in from a window, to reveal her father crouched on the floor.

  She kicked him in the face and he tumbled backward. She stepped on his shoulder and aimed her weapon right between his eyes.

  There was no gunfire outside.

  There was no roaring.

  “Hello, Dad,” Cat said.

  “Hello, Keller,” he replied loudly.

  “He’s not coming in here. This is between you and me, just like before. You have the right to remain silent…”

  Her father gazed at her with his intense, gray eyes.

  She never wavered.

  “Remember the last time we did this?” he said. “Vincent made you crash your car. Then he almost ripped out my throat. And he’s been mutating since then. That’s what his body is programmed to do. I know. I programmed it. And he’s going to become more and more beastlike, Catherine. There’s nothing you can do about it. It’s like a fatal disease. Ultimately, it will kill the part of him that’s still human. And then he will kill you. If he hasn’t by then.”

  “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” she said.

  “Look how you’re shaking,” he said. “You know I’m right. Push too hard on a bad day and what’s to stop him from losing his temper in a very bad way? Will he tell you he’s sorry after he breaks your neck?”

  “You have the right to an attorney,” she said, and then she heard a soft growl.

  No, Vincent, she thought. No, please. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

  “You had to shoot him that first time, just like a rabid dog. It’s not his fault, just like it wouldn’t be the dog’s fault. He’s a time bomb.”

  She heard movement outside. Another growl.

  “If you can’t afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”

  “Why is he growling?” Reynolds asked her. “You have the situation under control. You’re not in danger. He’s just angry.”

  Then she heard the crunch of leaves and a slight breeze as Vincent walked through the doorway and stood behind her. Reynolds’ eyes widened but Cat didn’t take her attention from her father.

  Vincent stood beside Cat.

  “How many of them are dead?” Reynolds asked.

  “None. They’re resting comfortably,” Vincent said. “Like you.”

  “There’s more of them,” Reynolds said. “They’ll come after you.”

  “There’s always more of them,” Vincent said.

  Cat gestured with her gun. “Come on, Dad. Let’s go home.

  ONE NIGHT LATER

  In his penthouse, DeMarco poured three glasses of scotch. “Single malt like you’ve never tasted. Not on your salaries.”

  He held two of them out to Cat and Tess. “I don’t know how you did it. Lizzani, who’d have guessed? And Bailey Hart. I’ve got my people out looking for him, that’s for sure.” He shook his head. “Never dreamed anybody else knew about my escape route out of the penthouse. Hey, they ever figure out who that kid was they sent to collect the drop?”

  “No,” Cat said. Paul Dickinson had received a plane ticket out of town.

  And David Whiteside had been apprehended at the airport.

  All in a good day’s work.

  “I told you I would spread the love around generously. And I will. The ransom was for one point five, so I’m giving you a commish. Ten percent? That’s just seventy-five thousand each. Not enough to corrupt you, just enough to help out with bills, maybe start a college fund your kid.”

  “No kids,” Tess said.

  “Yet.” He smiled at her. “You can have it in cash, unmarked bills, no way to trace it. Free and clear. My gift to you.” He bowed from the waist.

  “We’re on duty,” Tess said. “We’re not allowed to drink. Or accept… tips.”

  He looked at Cat. “It’s chump change.”

  She didn’t reply.

  He shrugged. “Well, you’re young yet. A few more years and those stars in your eyes will go out. Trust me. I’ve seen it a million times.” He drank his scotch. “That’s why I have so many friends on the force.”

  “You’re depressing me,” Tess said, and he guffawed.

  “I don’t know which one of you two I like more. You’re both so…” He mock-growled.

  “Honest,” Tess filled in helpfully.

  He laughed again, and then he drank the second of the three glasses of scotch. “I can’t let you go without doing something for you,” he said.

  “So we can be indebted to you?” Cat asked, and he grinned. He was as jovial as Santa Clause.

  “Okay, listen. Here’s what I’ve got for you. I put the word out and you are going to be able to make the case on Robertson stick. That kid Nico? He’ll be safe for the rest of his life. Guaranteed. And his cousin will be out of Rikers by summer. Bet on it.”

  “Sure hope you’re right,” Tess said.

  “And I’ve got so much dirt on Gonzales you could grow potatoes on him. I’ll make sure it gets to the right people. No one will ever connect it to you. I swear.”

  “Thank you,” Cat said.

  “Those mooks forgot who they were messing with.” He lowered his chin and peered up at them both through his lashes. “Capisce?”

  You did not just say that, Tess thought, her mouth twitching. She could almost hear the theme to The Godfather playing in the background.

  “What about the old man who lived in that shed?”

  “Got him into low-income housing.” He preened. “I take care of mine.”

  “For
the record? We are not yours,” Cat said.

  “Yet.”

  “We’ll be going now, Mr. DeMarco,” Cat said.

  They turned to go. Then he said, “Angelo would like to speak to you.”

  In the grubby room, Angelo sat in bed. He looked wan and thin. Ill. But his eyes were cold and hard.

  “I was going to kill him,” he said defiantly.

  “I know,” Cat replied.

  “I had insulin there. Paul would have given me a shot. You didn’t do anything special. As far as I’m concerned, you owe me.”

  I’m sorry, Cat thought. I’m sorry that you’re lost. That you’re hurt. That you’re angry.

  “Tell him that. He owes me. Double. Once for him, and once for her.”

  “I will,” she said.

  And then she walked away.

  * * *

  It was a slam dunk.

  The grand jury brought back indictments for both Robertson and Gonzales.

  A wiretap had revealed that Justus Zilpho had hired a couple of shooters to go after Catherine and Tess. They’d shot at Vincent as he’d left Cat’s apartment during the blackout, then come after Tess at Claudia’s safe house, and tried to run them off the road when they’d gone to check out Robertson’s house. They were in jail now, too.

  Gabe knew the 125th was celebrating, even though this was technically a win for the DA’s office, not for them. But there was no way he could show his face at Rosie’s Bar.

  So he was home, uncorking his own bottle of champagne, planning his plans, scheming his schemes. He poured two glasses and carried them into his bedroom.

  In his bed, Celeste smiled at him and took the glass he offered her. She held hers.

  “To the future,” she said. “One that I predict will be very interesting. A future with beasts in it.”

  “To the future.” With me in it.

  They touched glasses and sipped. Then she stretched and purred.

  Like a cat.

  * * *

  Seven-thirty on the dot. Cat said goodbye to Tess and J.T. and hurried home. She smiled as she unlocked her front door. She knew that this time, her apartment was not empty.

  This time, it was filled with candles, and champagne, and chocolate.

  And Vincent, in his white bathrobe.

  She went to him and he put his arms around her. Their lips touched, and then she poured all the passion that she had for this man into her kiss. He answered in kind, and then he pulled a red rose from his bathrobe and handed it to her.

  “For you, my beauty,” he said. His face glowed with love.

  They walked together to the window and gazed at the bright lights of the city together. Then Vincent pulled the drapes.

  And they went to that world, the world that was theirs alone.

  * * *

  We are better together than we are apart.

  And we always will be.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Nancy Holder is a multiple award-winning, New York Times bestselling author (the Wicked Series). Her two new dark young adult dark fantasy series are Crusade and Wolf Springs Chronicles. She has won five Bram Stoker Awards from the Horror Writers Association, as well as a Scribe Award for Best Novel (Saving Grace: Tough Love.) Nancy has sold over eighty novels and one hundred short stories, many of them based on such shows as Highlander, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, and others. She lives in San Diego with her daughter, Belle, two corgis, and three cats. You can visit Nancy online at www.nancyholder.com.

  COMING SOON FROM TITAN BOOKS

  BEAUTY & THE BEAST

  SOME GAVE ALL

  BY NANCY HOLDER

  When Vincent Keller is approached by the family of one of his fellow supersoldiers, a woman who went missing in Afghanistan, he vows to help them to uncover the truth behind her disappearance. Meanwhile, Catherine is on the case of a young girl so traumatized by the brutal murder of her aunt that she is unable speak. Cat knows how it feels to grow up haunted by a terrifying past, and Vincent will do anything to ensure that justice is served. Together, they will risk everything to prove that even in the darkest place, there is hope.

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