Wicked Ride

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “Daire said you need to stay in,” Kell reminded her, not taking his gaze from the wall.

  “Ballocks.” She kicked out a four-inch heeled Louboutin. “I’m a witch, damn it. He can’t shut me down.”

  “Enforcers can shut down any member of the Coven Nine in cases of emergency,” Adam said from behind her desk as he fiddled with the keyboard of a new computer. “We’re in an emergency, and the drug is here in Seattle, so you need to stay safe.”

  Kell nodded, studying the map. Different colored blotches marred areas across the world, illustrating areas of PK deposits.

  Adam walked toward the map, a remote control in his hand, the glow turning his skin an odd green. “I’ve traced the deposits of the mineral to this region in the former Soviet Union.” He pointed to several known mines. “We’ve had these under surveillance via satellite for almost twenty years.”

  Kellach frowned. “We missed mining activity?”

  “No.” Adam shook his head. “I think the mineral we’re dealing with was mined years ago. Long ago.”

  Shit. “So somebody has been planning this?” Kell turned to study his brother. “Why wait so long?”

  Adam shrugged a muscled shoulder. “I have no idea. The process of melting it down and combining the hallucinogens that make up Apollo is pretty simple, so it could’ve been done years ago. Why now? I don’t know.” He clicked a button, and a new screen came up. “Known enemies of the Coven Nine.”

  Kell sighed as the list continued on and on. “We have that many enemies?”

  “Aye.” Adam unrolled the cuffs of his crisp dress shirt. With his pressed black slacks and shoes, he looked like one of those Armani models. “I have the Nine going through the list to see who stands out. Right now, I’m concentrating on anyone with ties to Russia, both witch and demon.”

  Kellach nodded. Witches and demons had populated Russia for years, with very few vampires or shifters. “We’re allies with the demon nation now.”

  Adam fastened his cuff links. “We’re allies with the demon nation, but that still leaves a lot of rogue demons out there. Demons and witches have always mixed like oil and fire—usually a bad combo. My guess is that a demon is after us.”

  Kellach shook his head. “I don’t know why, but I’m thinking witch. There’s something personal about this, and I think it’s directed toward the Nine. More so, once the bugs are worked out here in Seattle.”

  “I concur.” Simone frowned. “You have a date, Adam?”

  He reached for a silk tie from his briefcase. “I do. With you.”

  A beautiful smile lightened her already stunning face. “You’re taking me to the gallery opening?”

  “Of course. You want to go, and since we’re at level red, you need an enforcer as an escort.” He tried to secure his tie and failed.

  Simone gracefully rose and crossed to knot his tie. “You’re my favorite enforcer, Adam.”

  Kell frowned. “Hey. What about me?”

  Simone tossed her long, black hair. “You’re too preoccupied with a human cop. Adam is the best.”

  The only reason Adam was going was because he knew Simone would go on her own, and then he’d have to track her down. Efficient as always, Adam hit two birds with one stone.

  Kellach rolled his eyes. “’Tis probably a good idea. Adam is getting soft, just doing research on the mineral.”

  Adam chuckled. “At least I’m not soft on a human cop.” He tucked a gun at his waist and another at his ankle before shrugging into a jacket. While Adam might look like a big guy on his way to a formal affair, Kellach knew just what a badass his older brother could be.

  Brilliant, cold, and merciless, Adam went for the straight kill and didn’t waste time or energy on any other solution. If he found the person or persons responsible for manufacturing Apollo, he’d take them out cleanly and efficiently.

  On the other hand, Kell wanted a chance to gain information. To figure out not only how, but who and why, somebody wanted to harm the Coven Nine. His curiosity had helped him in his career and in his life. The envelope from the king still sat on Kell’s bed table, unopened and unread. He’d rather his mate just told him everything about herself, but even so, that information tempted him.

  “Want to come to the gallery opening?” Simone asked.

  “No, but thank you.” The nape of his neck itched, and he could almost hear a clock counting down. “I’ll get some work done and maybe investigate a few of these names.” While Alexandra was at work, he might as well do the same to keep himself from going to look for her.

  “Suit yourself,” Simone said, sweeping from the room.

  “Don’t kill anybody, Adam,” Kell murmured, his gaze memorizing the compiled list.

  “No promises,” Adam muttered as he followed Simone. At the door, he stopped. “This test in Seattle, of humans right now?”

  “I know,” Kell murmured. “As soon as it’s perfected, then witches are in danger, and that’s going to happen soon.”

  Adam nodded. “I believe so, too. You think human army with abilities?”

  “Yes.” Kell had seen the end-game since day one. Create an army, possibly a coalition of motorcycle clubs, with the same abilities as the witches had and then take them down. “We may end up fighting humans with stronger abilities than we have.” The ticking clock was getting louder, because soon the next phase of Apollo would be arriving. He just knew it.

  Adam nodded. “Soon. It’s coming soon.” He hurried to catch up with Simone.

  Kell didn’t bother nodding. Somewhere on the list in front of him was somebody who wanted to harm what was his. Adam had it right. Kell would go hunting, and then he’d go killing. This time, he’d forget curiosity and answers.

  This was war.

  Chapter 22

  Lex strolled into her shitty apartment early morning to find Kellach Dunne sprawled on her bed in a Black Sabbath T-shirt and ripped jeans, his hands behind his head. “What the hell?” she muttered.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “How was the stakeout?”

  “A waste of time.” She glanced at muted light pouring through the window, not looking forward to doing the same thing that coming night. “Why are you on my bed?”

  “Because you’re not in mine.” He watched her, eyes lazy, body at rest. Yet a sense of danger, of barely contained energy, cascaded around him. “I figured you’d probably come back here, so here I am.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “I live here.”

  “Not anymore,” he said softly.

  She stilled and sucked in a deep breath. “We’re dating, Kell.” With a side of immortality, but still. “I’m not moving in with you.”

  “Aye, you are.” He pushed off the bed, towering over her. “Until we get Apollo figured out, and until you’re fully immortal and not so vulnerable, you are moving to a better secured home.”

  “Better secured? Meaning wherever you are?” She pressed her hands on her hips.

  “Aye.”

  Aye. Bossy Irish enforcer. “If I become completely immortal, then you’ll back off?”

  He grinned.

  She didn’t think so.

  “There’s no such thing as completely immortal, as we can be beheaded.” He ran gentle hands down her arms.

  Irritation, not quite temper, but suffocating tension filtered through her, and she shoved out. Flames trembled on her arms, bluish-green, and then snuffed out.

  Her eyes widened. “Um.”

  Kell stepped back. “Very nice.” He rubbed her arms again. “You created fire.”

  Yeah, but she hadn’t meant to. “It didn’t hurt at all.”

  “Your own fire shouldn’t burn you,” he said.

  She lifted an eyebrow and stepped back from him, trying to concentrate. Nothing.

  He smiled. “Pretend you’re a conduit for energy, and you can create light. Imagine you can actually see and control the oxygen molecules around you. Feel them touching you, and then grasp them. Change them from oxygen into fire. Then let y
our skin expand.”

  That didn’t make sense. But she took a deep breath, imagined energy, and watched fire dance along her arms to whiff out. She laughed. “Awesome.”

  He nodded. “Want to learn how to make fire balls?”

  Oh, hell yeah.

  Hours after learning to create fire and then taking a very satisfying nap, Lex handed over the extra-large bag of M&M’s to Bernie, allowing the chocolate to explode on her tongue. “We haven’t done stake-outs two nights in a row in way too long.”

  Bernie snorted and shoveled in candy, his gaze out the front of his Buick. “Stakeouts suck. You’re getting maudlin.” He shifted his bulk on the ripped seat and handed back the candy.

  “Yeah.” She watched a twenty-something in a pink minidress stumble toward the front door of Slam, an old bar east of Seattle. “I am gonna miss you, Bernie.” Truer words she’d never spoken. They’d been partners for five years, had watched each other’s backs, and had shared dinners together.

  “Me too, kid.” Bernie glanced at her, his gaze concerned. “Who do you think will be your new partner?”

  “Dunno.” Lex sighed as another young gal, a blonde, tripped through the door. “That chick is derunk.”

  Bernie sighed. “She’s probably the age of Janice, my youngest.” He and his wife, Liz, had been married for forty years and had raised four kids. All girls. The youngest was finishing up college.

  Lex nodded. “We can still do football Sundays together, right?”

  “Of course.” Bernie lightly punched her in the arm.

  Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. Geez. She was a badass cop, not some debutante. “Cool.”

  Bernie leaned forward as Spike Evertol sauntered toward the doorway. “There he is.”

  Lex nodded. “Yep.” She waited until Bernie had passed the information on to Masterson and Bundt, who were in place inside the bar. “Bundt said Spike will bring out his connection.”

  “Yeah. Hopefully we can take them quietly.” Bernie tossed his jacket in the back of the car to leave his weapon free. He cleared his throat. “So, you end things with that Fire member?”

  Lex stiffened. She had one partner, and she owed him the truth. “No.”

  “Damn it, Lex.” Bernie shook his head. “You’re smarter than that.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Bernie chuckled. “Yes, you are. Give me a break. What the hell you doin’?”

  Lex turned toward her partner just as the skies opened up and pummeled rain onto Seattle. “Kellach isn’t a member of Fire. He’s undercover for a military group from Ireland, and he’s working to take Apollo off the streets.”

  Bernie’s bushy eyebrows rose and he pivoted to face her fully. “You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me. You believe that shit?”

  “Yes.” God, if she told him all of it, he’d have her committed to the loony bin. “I believe him, Bern.”

  Bernie flicked on the windshield wipers. “Why the hell would some Irish military group give a shit about the streets of Seattle?”

  “They think the drug is being tested here before hitting the streets of Dublin.” Okay. That sounded lame. “I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but you have to trust me. Please.”

  He studied her, and the tick, tick, tick of the windshield wipers filled the silence. “Lex, I do trust you. But the only reason a guy from Ireland joins a Seattle motorcycle club that is known to distribute drugs is because he either wants drugs or guns or both. Your theory about Dunne supplying Fire with drugs and Fire supplying Dunne with guns for the IRA is the best one we’ve had yet.”

  “I know, but I was wrong.” And my lover is a witch who has mated me, and someday I’ll be immortal. “Sometimes life doesn’t make sense.” She shook her head, feeling more alone than ever. How could she trust a guy she’d just met? Men left, and he had the power to leave for eternity. She hunched into her seat.

  “Don’t be mad.” Bernie sighed. “I just don’t want to see you screw up a great career.”

  Forget her career. Right now she was more worried about her sanity. “Do you think there are things in this world we don’t see? I mean, like magic or destiny?”

  Bernie coughed, and his eyes widened. “No. Do you?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Jesus, Lex. Don’t tell me you’re thinking this guy is fated for you or some nonsense like that. You’re as bad as my Linda.” Bernie shook his head.

  Linda was Bernie’s second daughter, and she’d earned a college degree in Urban Legends, much to Bernie’s dismay. She currently worked as a waitress in a yogurt shop and was loving it.

  Lex rubbed her eyes. “Maybe Linda has it right.”

  “God.” Bernie squinted to peer through the storm. “I’ll never understand how a perfectly smart woman goes bum ass dumb over a guy. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it dozens of times with my girls. But not you, Lex. What the hell?”

  She couldn’t explain the truth to him. “I don’t know.”

  Gunshots filled the air, and partygoers poured out of the bar. One girl fell into the alley, while another young man leaped over her and into the street, screaming at the top of his lungs.

  “Shit.” Bernie shoved open his door while calling, “Shots fired, shots fired,” into his radio along with the address.

  Adrenaline flooded Lex’s senses, and she burst from the car, her gun already out. She swept the area, running into the flood of people barreling from the bar. She edged her hip against the opening and shoved inside with Bernie on her heels.

  The scents of smoke and sweat assaulted her first. Rock music beat around a darkened room, while lights glowed from the ceiling in a weird red and blue pattern. A bar, painted black, took up the nearest wall.

  “Masterson,” she yelled out.

  “Back here.” Bundt poked his head above the bar. “Call it in. Officer down. Officer down.” He disappeared from sight.

  Bernie called it in while Lex ran around the bar to where Bundt was pressing his hand around an upper chest wound bleeding from Masterson’s too still body. Even in the darkened bar, she could see the blood covering the floor around the cop.

  She dropped to her knees and felt his neck. Good pulse.

  Bundt shook his head. “Spike shot him. The prick shot my partner.”

  She leaned down and patted Masterson’s cheek. “He’s out, but his heart rate is good. Keep pressure on the wound.” It looked like the bullet had gone through the upper shoulder.

  “Freeze,” Bernie bellowed from across the room.

  Lex jumped to her feet and grabbed her gun.

  Across the bar, Bernie had taken a shooter’s stance, his gun aimed at a guy nearly glowing with pink fire.

  Lex hustled around the bar, her gun toward the guy. He was tall, probably about six-five, and the fire surrounded him.

  He walked toward Bernie, and Bernie pulled off three shots.

  The guy jerked and then smiled.

  “What the hell?” Bernie yelled.

  The guy lifted his hand.

  “No,” Lex yelled, afraid of the fire about to be thrown. She ran toward the guy.

  Silver glinted in the darkened room, and he fired some kind of weapon.

  Bernie twisted, his body contorting.

  Lex hit the guy in a full tackle, knocking him into the wall. Pain flared along her shoulder and neck. The fire singed her skin but didn’t burn, and she grappled for control.

  He gasped, his eyes widening before he swung and hit her temple.

  She saw stars but kept fighting, hitting him in the eye.

  “Lex,” Bernie called out, clutching his chest, falling to the floor.

  “Bernie?” Lex elbowed her attacker in the nose and struggled to flip him over to cuff.

  The guy growled and grabbed her hips, throwing her toward Bernie. She landed hard, the air knocked out of her, her palms smarting as they slapped the dirty floor, Her attacker jumped up and ran for the back door.

  Sirens sounded in
the distance.

  She reached Bernie, who lay with his eyes open, gasping for breath. “Bern?”

  “Fire. God, fire and hot. Hurts.” He gasped, his eyes filling with pain.

  She yanked open his shirt, searching for bullet holes. Darts. Two red darts stuck into the top of his chest. What in the world? Gingerly, she tugged them out.

  He began to convulse, his eyes closing.

  “Bernie,” she yelled, patting his face, trying to hold him down so he didn’t hurt himself.

  What had been in the darts?

  Flames shot from his fingertips. Shit. Apollo. She leaned in, holding his face. “Don’t leave, Bernie. Please hold on.” She pressed her face to his shuddering chest to listen to his erratic heartbeat. Not good. Way not good.

  Flames danced up his chest, burning his skin. The smell of burned flesh filled her nose.

  “No,” she gasped. A tingle whipped through her. Flames, the color of Kell’s, appeared on her hands. Hadn’t she seen Kell quell another guy’s fire with his own?

  Going on instinct, saying a quick prayer, she pushed her fire against the one harming Bernie. Sparks flew, and she ducked her head. Concentrating, she tried to capture the fire hurting him.

  She’d practiced creating fire all morning, and she could do this. She had to do this. Her fire encircled his, and she snuffed it out by waving her hands.

  He gasped a breath.

  “Bernie?” she asked, leaning over his face, her body shaking. Creating fire took a lot of energy, and she was out.

  His eyes fluttered shut.

  Tears filled her eyes. The sound of Bundt talking to his partner, ordering him to awaken, filtered through the bawdy music.

  Talking or applying pressure wouldn’t help Bernie. While she could snuff out the fire on him, what was happening inside him? She couldn’t force fire into him, could she?

  He began to flop like a caught fish.

  Sucking in air, she pretended the air around them was on fire. Flames danced on her skin. She pictured fire in her mouth, on her tongue, and suddenly, flames danced out of her mouth.

  This was crazy. Definitely risky. Leaning down, she opened Bernie’s mouth and breathed in. Hard and fast, she shot those flames down his throat, hoping she wasn’t killing him. God, she hoped she wasn’t burning him from the inside out.