Dead Zone (Blue-Eyed Bomb Book 3)

by Amber Lynn Natusch

  “Nobody saw me. It’s cool. TS took care of it all—he’s good like that.”

  “Yeah, well…not well enough because I keep hearing rumblings about it. I’m guessing they’re just not as pissed about it as they could be.”

  I shrugged and grabbed a bottle opener from the counter to stash in my back pocket. I didn’t have time to stand around and chat. I had conversations to overhear and shit to learn.

  At the end of the bar sat three rather disgruntled-looking guys. I shot Jenkins a look, and he gave a slow nod before walking away. I made my way over to them and pretended to stack glasses.

  “Those fuckers…they think they can do whatever they want to us,” one said before downing his beer. He shook it at me for a refill, and I resisted the urge to smash it over his head.

  “Anyone else need another?” I asked, taking the empty from him.

  The other two scowled at me and nodded.

  “You were at fight club the other night,” the young-looking one in the middle said, eyeing me tightly.

  “Yeah, I was. What about it?”

  “She’s Jenkins’ fuck toy of the week,” the third one said with a laugh before finishing off his bottle.

  “Am I?” I asked, taking it from him. “I’ll have to let Jenks know that. He hasn’t seen much action yet.”

  “He sure saw some action when he was kicking your ass in the cage,” the first one said with a laugh. “You must be into some freaky shit if that’s what gets you off. Jenkins is a lucky guy.”

  “Is he now? Last time I checked, that fight was all he was getting out of this arrangement.”

  Three sets of suspicious eyes fell on me.

  “That’s not what he said.”

  Oh. Shit.

  I made a mental note to punch Jenkins when I went out back. If you’re going to have a cover story, it works best when both parties are aware of it.

  “Guys like Jenks want guys like you to think they’re tapping girls like me. It’s how the world works.”

  “What’s your story, anyway?” the one in the middle asked, leaning forward. “You a lone wolf too or something?”

  He looked a little too interested in the answer for my liking.

  “I’m something. Not really a lone wolf. More of a wanderer.”

  “Females don’t get to wander,” he replied, reaching for my arm.

  I dodged his grab and made my way to the cooler to get their beers—and to keep from killing them where they sat.

  Careful now…

  I didn’t bother responding to Nyx’s warning. I already knew I was playing with fire. I brought the drinks back to the guys, who were clearly discussing me as I returned.

  “We want you to meet someone,” the middle one said. “I think our alpha would be really interested in you…”

  “I’m not big into blind dates,” I replied, flipping the cap off his bottle.

  “It’s not really a request.”

  I could feel his lust and anger pressing into me across the bar. Not only was I not learning anything useful for the PC, but I was also getting on the radar of the wolves. Right where I didn’t want to be.

  “Hey lady,” Jenkins said from behind me, snaking his arm around my waist. “These three giving you a hard time?” His lips brushed against my neck, kissing me lightly. I knew what he was doing—what he was trying to show. I was getting a crash course in the cover story he’d forgotten to tell me about.

  I played along like a good little girl.

  “They want me to meet someone,” I said, reaching up to loop my arm around his neck. “I told them we weren’t together, but I guess the jig is up now.” He smiled down at me, then smacked my ass, shooing me away.

  “You can’t have this one, guys. She’s with me—in the neutral zone. I’m sure you understand.”

  A chorus of grumbles was all he got in response.

  “They didn’t pay yet,” I called to Jenkins, winking at him as I walked to the far side of the bar, where Michael stood looking at me, his puppy-dog eyes full of betrayal. I shook my head at him, trying to tell him that what he’d seen wasn’t really what was going on, but he just disappeared around the corner. Seconds later, Jenkins was at my back, whispering in my ear.

  “That could have gone better.”

  “Yeah, and you could have told me I was your fuck buddy before you set me loose on the bar.”

  I turned to face him, and he shrugged.

  “Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind. Did you get anything helpful from those three?”

  “They were definitely grumbling about the PC, but they started in on me not long after. They’re a bust for right now. They might go back to talking about the PC, but I don’t think so. They clearly have misgivings about me.”

  “That’s just because they can’t fuck you,” he replied with a wink.

  “Yeah. Neither can you.” I gave him an ass smack like the one he’d given me and went back to work. Maybe I’d burned those three wolves, but there were plenty of other drunken supernaturals in the place that could have a beef with the PC. I just needed to keep plying them with alcohol to find out who and why.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Two hours and zero leads later, Jenkins appeared from the back room and pulled me aside.

  “Hey,” Jenkins said, leaning in close to my ear, “change of plans. You need to come with me for a sec.” I turned to find sharp blue eyes staring down at me. There was no room for questioning him.

  “What’s up?” I asked, throwing aside the towel I’d been using to wipe down the bar.

  “Not here.” He walked out from behind the bar, heading for his office. I followed behind him, if for no other reason than my morbid curiosity about what had him so tight-lipped. I knew it couldn’t be good.

  Once we were alone in his office, he closed the door, blocking out the cacophony of the bar.

  “I just got a call,” he said, “from Murph.”

  “Murph who no longer runs the fight club because it got shut down? That Murph?”

  “Yes, and he said they’re having fights tonight at a new spot. It’s on the down-low for obvious reasons. He wants me to come ref some of the matches…”

  “And you want to know if that’s going to get you in trouble.” It wasn’t a question. The uncertainty rolling off him was so strong I could practically taste it.

  “I want to help you guys, Phira, but not enough to get caught in the crossfire.”

  “You won’t be,” I said, turning to open the door, “because I’m going with you. It’s the perfect chance to see if my ghostly murderer returns.”

  “Phira—”

  “Nope. Those are my terms, or I tell the boys about this pop-up fight club and they go apeshit. Your call.”

  His chest heaved as he tried to calm his anger. It appeared that my lone wolf buddy didn’t love ultimatums.

  Yet another trait we shared.

  “Fine. You can go.”

  “Sweet. Let’s move.”

  Without another word, the two of us made our way out the back door and to his Jeep. There was no singing on the way there; no joking and horsing around. It was as if we both knew that shit was about to go down that night. Like our sixth senses were screaming at us to turn back. To stay out of it.

  We both ignored the warning.

  Thirty minutes later, we pulled up to an unlikely location. St. Anthony’s Episcopal Church didn’t really seem like a great place to hold a fight, but Jenkins launched into a rather long-winded explanation about why it worked. It was in the Northsiders’ territory and was well protected by them. The reverend had a little gambling problem that had been exploited to secure the venue.

  I wondered if he’d be there betting on the fights.

  “Did they move the pews out of the way for the cage?” I asked, walking up the front steps.

  “No, it’s all downstairs. They have some big banquet hall or something. I don’t really know all the details. Murph didn’t tell me.”

  “Guess we’re
about to find out.”

  He looked over his shoulder at me, concern in his eyes. “I need you to keep your mouth shut this time, okay? We can’t have a repeat performance of last time.”

  “Afraid you’ll lose?”

  He stopped short, and I nearly ran into his back. “I’m afraid you’ll start a brawl.”

  “Who? Me?” I feigned shock. “How could you even suggest such a thing?”

  “Because I know you.”

  “If you knew me, you’d know that I excel at stealth.”

  He stared at me unblinking, his blue eyes catching the light from the nearby streetlamp.

  “I might call you a lot of things, half-breed, but stealthy is not one of them.”

  “Okay, fine. Quiet as a mouse. Promise.”

  He started back up the steps and pulled open the ornate wooden door. Once inside, we could hear the din of a crowd. It was muffled, but present nonetheless.

  “Guess we follow the noise?” I asked, making my way through the pews toward a back hallway. It didn’t take us long to find the basement door. It rattled with energy from the fights on the other side. I brushed my fingertips against it, absorbing the feel of the crowd. It felt different this time. Rowdier. More aggressive. Something about that didn’t sit well.

  Remember why we are here…

  “Right,” I said under my breath as I eased the door open. Before I could step through it, Jenkins thrust his arm in front of me, cutting me off.

  “I go first.”

  With a dramatic sweep of my hand, I gestured for him to pass.

  He led the way down the steep, narrow stairs to the basement full of sweating, shouting supernaturals packed in like sardines. There was barely room to breathe it was so tight in there. The cage was somewhere in the center. I could see the nulls there, Dex and Stephen at their stations next to it. The others, including the most powerful of them all, were standing in the corners of the room. Murph, however, was nowhere to be seen.

  Jenkins managed to carve his way through the mob, and I followed behind him, staying close so that the path didn’t slam closed in my face. It wasn’t until we reached the edge of the cage that I could finally see clearly. Two bloodied men were duking it out in the middle of the battlefield. They both looked to be in rough shape, and I wondered if the fight was almost over. Judging by the way they both wavered on their feet, it needed to be.

  I was so taken with the fight that I hadn’t realized I’d slowed my pace. When I turned to catch up with Jenkins, he was nowhere to be seen, engulfed by the sea of bodies. Not wanting to cause a scene, I decided to stay put and keep my mouth shut as ordered.

  A loud thud in the ring drew my attention back to the fight. One of the guys had fallen down, his head bouncing off the mat several times before coming to rest. A jolt of panic ran through me; he didn’t look like he was breathing. My eyes darted everywhere in search of the ghost but found nothing. Moments later, the body on the bloodied mat started to stir.

  Not dead.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding while my eyes wandered the crowd, looking for Jenkins and Murph. Though I never found the latter, I saw the former hop into the cage. His eyes found mine quickly and shot me a warning: ‘do as I said and keep your mouth shut.’

  I nodded to let him know I understood.

  Once the fighters had left the cage—one walking out on his own and the other dragged by his arms—Jenkins assumed his position in the center and waited for the next pair of fighters to enter. I watched as Murph stepped into the ring, followed by someone I didn’t recognize. But judging by the way Jenkins’ eyes went wide at the sight of him, things were about to get serious.

  Jenkins pulled the two men into the center and reiterated the rules before sending them back to their corners of the cage. He’d said that he always officiated fights between the wolves, so I could only assume that was what both fighters were. But why he’d shown such concern about the one made me edgy. Jenkins didn’t seem fazed by much.

  He signaled the fight to start, and the two men went at it with reckless abandon. It was a melee. Fists and feet were flying every which direction. It was hard to believe that they could move so fast without their powers. They would have made impressive humans were it not for their pesky werewolf DNA.

  Minutes went by in a blur, and I started to question how they could keep up their pace much longer. I was getting tired just watching them. The crowd around me, however, wasn’t. They pushed and roared and pressed toward the cage, knocking me flush against it. I gripped the chain link tightly, pushing back against them to no avail. For a moment, I wondered whether I was going to be crushed to death.

  Then a flash of fear cleared my mind.

  Through the diamond-shaped mesh, I saw a figure appear in the ring. The mystery ghost was back, hovering near the fighter I didn’t know, and she appeared just as enraged as last time. She looked at me with wild, feral eyes and opened her mouth wide, leaning forward to let loose another eerie, silent scream that raised my hackles. I knew what would come next—and I couldn’t let it happen.

  Letting loose a cry of my own, I screamed Jenkins’ name. It was swallowed by the din of the crowd. With seconds to spare, I did the only thing I could think of and started scaling the cage, shouting for Jenkins to stop the fight. I ignored the people trying to stop me, knocking their ‘crazy bitch’ comments away with a boot to their faces. I was at the top of the eight-foot tall divide when Jenkins finally noticed.

  “Shut it down!” I screamed, taking advantage of a pause in the fight. Apparently the sight of me dangling over the top of the ring was enough to draw attention. Bonus for me.

  Jenkins never hesitated, just jumped between the fighters and sent them to their respective corners. I climbed down the inside of the cage to meet him, a grim look on my face. The boos of the crowd surrounded us, making it difficult to hear without our superhuman gifts.

  “Ghost,” I said, that one word telling him all he needed to know. With a wave of his arms, he indicated that the fight was over. Murph and the other man were soon at our sides, arguing like teenagers.

  I looked quickly at the ghost standing in the corner of the ring staring at me. Her hand reached up to grab the necklace that had spilled out from beneath her shirt. I recognized that necklace.

  It looked just like Reah’s.

  “The fight’s done,” Jenkins shouted over the din, looking at Murph and the other fighter to drive his point home.

  “It is done when he goes down,” the fighter who appeared less damaged said; the one Jenkins’ eyes had gone wide over. I took him in as he stared Jenkins down, his dark brown eyes burning holes of warning into the lone wolf.

  “If one of you wants to die, you should keep fighting,” I told him. His head swiveled at a creepy, controlled pace to look at me.

  “Is that a threat?” he asked, his voice calm as the crowd went silent.

  “No.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “I meant that one of you was about to die.”

  I looked over to where the ghost had been standing. She was gone.

  “How could you know such a thing?” the man asked, stepping closer to me.

  That was a damn good question—one I hadn’t prepared to answer.

  “I…I see things. Premonitions. That fighter from the Northside pack—I knew he was about to die but I couldn’t help him soon enough. This time, I didn’t hesitate. PS: you’re welcome.”

  He leaned away from me a touch, as if to better assess this strange, premonition-seeing girl standing before him.

  “You knew Kevin was about to die? But how could you see such a thing with the power of the nulls at work?”

  I shrugged. “Seems that gift isn’t supernatural.”

  He considered my answer for a moment before nodding repeatedly.

  “I suppose if humans are capable of such things, then it is reasonable for you to have done the same within the nulls’ radius.”

  “Glad you think so,”
I said, my anxiety rising under the weight of his stare.

  Murph said nothing. He just looked at me, suspicion and uncertainty in his stare.

  “Have you foreseen any other deaths this evening?” the other fighter asked. “Should we continue or shut down?”

  I looked at Jenkins, who said nothing—he was in full-on neutral mode. I was on my own.

  “Shut it down.”

  The roar of booing started up again.

  The dark-eyed fighter turned to the crowd with his hands up to silence them. The hush that fell over them was instant, which made me wonder exactly who the fuck I was talking to. Then I wondered if it was better that I didn’t know.

  “We will fight another time,” he said with the grace and power of a politician. “You will be contacted soon.”

  As if he’d actually told them to get the fuck out with his elegant dismissal, the crowd turned and dispersed slowly, in an orderly fashion. Not a single complaint was heard. I decided to follow suit and started toward the door to the cage, but a gentle hand on my arm stopped me.

  “Who is it that I have to thank for her charitable actions?”

  “Sapphire,” I replied, throwing out my alias.

  “Such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

  “Thanks.”

  He held me a moment longer, staring at me with curious, lustful eyes.

  “I will see you again. I’m having a party at my place on Friday. Be sure to come.”

  “Okay…where’s your place?”

  He laughed at my reply, as though it was the most adorable thing he’d ever heard.

  “Your friend here can tell you. I will see you there, Sapphire.” His eyes drifted down my body and back up again. He seemed to appreciate what he saw. “It will be a formal event. Be sure to wear something appropriate.”

  Without another word, he walked out of the ring. After giving him a head start, Murph followed, leaving Jenkins and me in the center of the ring. I leaned in close to his ear, not wanting to be heard as the stragglers filed out of the basement.

  “Who the fuck was that?”

  “That, Sapphire, was Alejandro, the alpha of the Northside pack.”

  Everything around me stopped. I could hear Jenkins talking, but his words didn’t register. My mind was too busy reeling from the fact that I’d just met the being responsible for Reah’s death, and apparently the death of the unnamed ghost who’d shown up in the ring again as well. The ghost who wore the same necklace as Reah.