Quicksilver (The Bloodline Series Book 2)

by Gabriella Messina

  “Their trying to spread the virus.” He frowned again. “But won’t hitting them like this just antagonize them? Make them lash out, maybe even set off bombs with the virus in them or something?”

  “It may.” Vincent’s eyes darkened, his expression intense. “We’re taking out their money… Whatever they are planning here in the city, and beyond, they need a lot of money to do it. Steady money, and the meth gives them that. It won’t stop them, but it will slow them down… give us more time to figure out what they’re trying to do.”

  “And then?”

  Vincent tossed his cigarette butt into the gutter, and grinned. “Then, we stop them from doing that, too.” He turned toward Sam, reaching out a hand and brushing her cheek gently with his fingertips. “Train’s coming, love.” He gave her a small wink, then turned and started down the subway stairs.

  Ben smirked. “I take it you two have worked out your differences.” Sam glanced at him, color flooding her cheeks. Ben rolled his eyes. “We’d better hurry.” He threw an arm around Sam’s shoulder, creating an awkward position for them as they walked, even more so when they started down the stairs. “That train won’t wait for us.”

  The platform was nearly empty when they reached it, surprising for the early evening hour. Sam spotted Vincent where he leaned against one of the columns near the tracks. A lone busker, a harpist, had set up near the wall, and was taking advantage of the quiet between trains to play. Sam listened carefully as she and Ben made their way to Vincent’s side. The man was good, giving the classic Metallica song a medieval sound… She felt Vincent’s hand slip into hers, their fingers intertwining, fingertips brushing palms, sending shivers through her. Sam saw a twitch of a satisfied smile play at the corner of Vincent’s lips. She felt the rush of warm air begin wafting from the tunnel. The train was approaching, and as the air became warmer and warmer, and the sound of the shrieking rails grew louder, Sam could barely hear the harpist in the background.

  The J train barreled into view, its lights shining in the tunnel seconds before it rushed into the station, pulled to a stop, and the doors slid open. Sam, Vincent and Ben quickly stepped into the car. They were nearly at the back, meaning their arrival at the next stop, Marcy Avenue, would put them a longer walk from the exit. Marcy was an above-ground station, though, and Sam secretly hoped they could linger on the platform for a few minutes and scout the area a bit before descending.

  Seats were empty throughout the car and Ben quickly claimed one facing in the direction they were going. Vincent eschewed a seat, instead wrapping one arm around one of the steel poles in the center of the car. As Sam passed, he pulled her over, using his free arm to pull her close to him and against him. The bell chimed and the doors slid closed and the train jerked as it started forward. Sam could feel Vincent stabilize her as she started to lose her balance, and she responded by tucking her hand beneath his coat and around his waist.

  “Careful, darlin’.” Vincent leaned in close, his nose buried in her hair, and they stayed in that position. Sam had to admit she was relishing the closeness. Vincent was clearly not one of those guys that liked to hide away his feelings. Even Ben’s presence, and the fact that they were essentially going into battle, hadn’t been enough to stop him from showing affection toward her in public. Of course, part of Sam knew it was the wolf inside and the instinct to mark his territory. Chalk it up to her own instincts and hormones, but she enjoyed the whole claim-staking thing herself.

  As the train drove up out of the tunnel and began its journey across the Williamsburg Bridge toward Brooklyn, Sam found herself relishing the sight of her island home. Manhattan’s buildings were bathed in the orangey glow of sunset, the sunlight reflecting off the windows and adding to the sparkle of a city just beginning to turn on its lights in preparation for yet another night. A twinge of remorse caused Sam’s stomach to seize up with that horrible butterfly feeling, and for a moment the thought went through her head that they might not get through this tonight. They didn’t know what they were going into, and she had to admit that even though Lenny had provided the information, he may not be trustworthy anymore… After those moments with Ronne earlier, she wasn’t certain about his trustworthiness either… Sam swallowed hard and nestled into Vincent, feeling his arms responding instantly, pulling her closer.

  “You alright, love?” He murmured against her temple, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke.

  Sam closed her eyes, hoping the bit of moisture now present there wasn’t seen, and nodded. “Mhmm… Ask me again when this is over, okay?”

  “I will.” He turned his head, pressing his lips firmly against her temple, his breath caressing her skin as he pulled back and quietly sighed. “We’re nearly there?”

  “Nearly.” The train left the bridge crossing behind and proceeded onto the elevated tracks that ran into Brooklyn. Sam could see the quiet streets below, the old neighborhoods of brick storefronts with fire escapes hanging precariously off the sides. They were getting off at Marcy Avenue, mainly because the address Ronne had given her was close to Havemeyer, and it was a quick walk from this station. It also meant that they could see the warehouse from the station, a real boon since they had so little to go on in the first place.

  Sam stood at the railing as the train pulled away behind them. Only another man had gotten off at the same time, and he had quickly made his way toward the stairwell leading down to the street. They had remained behind and were straining to see the warehouse over the buildings in front of them. Or rather, Sam was straining to see. Vincent and Ben, on the other hand, had the advantage of their height and were having no trouble seeing the building, although it was only the roof and part of a stairwell visible.

  “Well? What are we looking at?”

  Ben took a deep breath and seemed ready to speak… but didn’t. He let the breath out with a whoosh and grimaced as he turned to Vincent. “You want to field that one? My battle planning skills are limited.”

  Vincent smirked, took a final look at the warehouse, then turned to lean against the wall. He took out a cigarette, lighting it quickly and taking a long drag before answering. “What we are looking at is a deserted warehouse.” Vincent blew out the remnants of smoke he’d inhaled through his mouth and nose and cleared his throat. “Can you scent anyone there, love?” Before Sam could reply, Vincent was doing just that, his lips parted, the tip of his tongue just barely touching his bottom teeth as he inhaled simultaneously through his nose and mouth. He did it twice, three times, then licked his lips and closed his eyes for a second. Sam watched his face, the crease of concentration between his heavy brows deepening.

  “Anyone there?” Ben’s question had the hint of a smile behind it. Perhaps Vincent heard because his eyes snapped open, his frown remaining as he glared.

  “I can’t tell. It’s difficult to… separate scents right now.” He glanced momentarily at Sam before returning to his cigarette.

  The wind picked up slightly from the northwest and Sam’s nose involuntarily twitched. She giggled inside, the visual that popped in her head of her nose twitching like a rabbit too much to resist. But there… there was something on the wind… werewolf… although how long the scent had been in the area wasn’t apparent. Sam had found herself tracking two-bit druggie wolves on occasion over the past six months, and often the traces she found had been left by them sitting on a bench or laying on the ground in an alley a few hours before.

  This scent was older… perhaps from as early as this morning. It had a dried, dusty smell to it, like old leaves… Come to think of it, the scent could be on old leaves, Sam thought, as a bunch of dried brown ones fluttered down the street below.

  “Sam? What does your nose know?” Sam chuckled at Ben’s phrasing.

  “I can smell that they’ve been in the area… But when and who and how many…” She shook her head. “It’s definitely stronger coming from the northwest, where the warehouses are.”

  Ben nodded. “Alright. So, self-designated voice of re
ason here… Are you sure you want to go in there blind? I mean, this isn’t just about going in and dumping over some containers or something. This is like… a declaration of war.”

  “The war is already on.” Vincent glanced over the wall, no doubt making sure no one was passing under it before he tossed his cigarette butt. “It should be dark enough. Let’s go.” Vincent strode off toward the staircase at the end of the platform.

  Sam took a deep breath, turned to Ben. “Benny, I --”

  “Don’t.” Ben heaved a sigh. “You’d better catch up to him. You’re safer with him than you are with me.”

  Sam nodded slowly. “You see anything suspicious, anything dangerous, anything… You get on that train the minute it comes, understand? Don’t wait for me. Promise?”

  Ben hesitated, then nodded. “I will. I promise.”

  Sam smiled, her eyes moistening despite her internal battle to keep that emotion from showing. Knowing the battle would be one she would lose if she stayed any longer, Sam quickly turned and took off down the platform at a run, barreling down the stairs and not stopping for breath until she reached the street.

  She stopped at the bottom, her shoulders hunching over as she fought the feelings welling up. Suddenly, arms were around her, and Vincent’s scent enveloped her as he held her close.

  “I know, love. He’ll be alright. We have to go… now.”

  Sam took several ragged breaths, her head and eyes clearing considerably as she concentrated on Vincent’s warm brown eyes looking down at her, and on the mission they were launching right now.

  “I’m good, let’s go.”

  Chapter 33

  Storage Warehouse

  Between Havemeyer Street and Roebling Street

  Getting to the building was easy… Getting into it not so much. While the information had stated it was a warehouse, it hadn’t mentioned what kind, so Sam and Vincent were both surprised when they arrived to find themselves face-to-face with a private storage company.

  After looking at the building, which took up an entire block between Havemeyer Street and Roebling, they backtracked on Havemeyer to the steps of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, sitting down and sharing a couple of cigarettes as they discussed what to do next. There hadn’t been any mention of storage garages or lockers, and they simply didn’t have the time to go searching for a random locker of drugs.

  “Would we be able to smell it?” Sam asked, her voice low. There were no major centers of nightlife or activity nearby, so the street was silent and dark. She recalled a time, years and years before, when her grandparents had brought her here for the Lifting of the Giglio and accompanying Italian festival. Now, even those pleasant memories were marred by the current situation. With summer approaching and the festival season already beginning, the opportunities for public dispersal of this virus were growing. She realized Vincent hadn’t answered and turned toward him. “Vincent?”

  “Smell the drugs?” He shook his head and leaned back on the steps, his booted feet stretched out in front of him. “Maybe… if you couldn’t smell anything else, and you could hone in on a component of the scent, but… I doubt it.” He breathed in deeply… and quickly sat up. In fact, Vincent looked ready to vault into the air and take off.

  “Jesus, what?” Sam exclaimed, and then she smelled it on the wind, too… Male… werewolf…

  “Prutzmann.” Vincent growled, his gaze fixed on the storage warehouse.

  “I smell him, too… He’s there.” Sam watched Vincent’s hands fold and flex, making fists that looked more than ready to punch Prutzmann into the middle of next week, and beyond. “Vincent?” He hesitated, then turned to her, his eyes dark. “We need to get in that warehouse.”

  Vincent’s eyes reflected some confusion at her statement, and then realization dawned… If Prutzmann was there, then security might be disabled, or at least suspended. The muscles in his jaw were working like crazy, and Vincent nodded sharply before getting quickly to his feet. “Let’s go.” He offered Sam a hand up, and continued to hold her hand as they hurried toward the storage warehouse.

  As they neared the building, they could see the sedan parked in the gateway, the metal security gate wide open and the large door beyond it wide open as well. In fact, the car’s front end was parked with the bumper sticking into the building. Vincent slowed a bit, a frown descending as he stared at the car and the welcoming gateway. “Something isn’t right. Why would he do that?”

  “Do you smell anyone else?” Sam scented the air briefly. Still only Prutzmann’s unique signature reached her, although she could smell a trace of something… but then again it smelled like Vincent, so…

  “I only smell him.” Vincent exhaled with a frustrated sigh. “Alright, you stay close to me.” Sam squeezed his hand in reply and the pair weaved their way around the sedan, squeezed through the doorway and entered the building.

  “So, what are we looking for now? The drugs, or Prutzmann?” Sam whispered quietly, though even the softness of her voice created a bit of echo in the hallways. They had turned left upon entering, making their way along the hallway, walking slowly and carefully so that their footsteps wouldn’t echo too loudly off the metal walls and ceiling. They were still holding hands, and Vincent squeezed hers briefly before answering.

  “Both.”

  “You keep looking at the numbers… You know something I don’t?”

  Vincent slowed to a stop, a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eye as he turned back to Sam. “John isn’t just obsessive about his appearance. He always picks the same numbers.”

  Sam frowned. “The same numbers?”

  “Yes.” Vincent stepped toward her, his eyes darkening slightly as he backed her up against the wall. There was a slight bang as Sam’s back connected with the wall, and seconds later another bang as Vincent lifted her up. He paused, his lips close to hers as he continued. “He always uses my sister’s birthday. Guaranteed, any place that Prutzmann holes up, any codes that he uses, it’s a combination of those eight numbers.”

  The lights suddenly switched off around them, plunging them into a darkness only broken by the red emergency lights above the exit doors. Sam clung to Vincent even as it dawned on her why they had shut off.

  Vincent smiled. “Motion sensors. The lights turn off when no movement is detected.” His eyes returned to hers, the mischievous turn of his lips mirroring the glint in his eyes. “So… you think we can do this without setting the lights off?”

  “Vincent, we’re supposed to be on a mission here.”

  He nodded his head, the smile growing wider. “I know.” He leaned in closer, his lips barely an inch from hers. For a moment, Sam contemplated saying yes… Then the lights came on.

  They both tensed, and Sam watched as Vincent quickly scented the air. He growled, then stopped, his frown rapidly fading away into shock. He carefully lowered Sam back down, tucking her behind him as he focused on the end of the hallway.

  Sam quickly took the scent for herself, and it was Prutzmann without a doubt. Because of the construction of the storage warehouse, specifically the large gap that left a two or three-foot-wide space along the ceiling, air flow was almost constant and pinpointing Prutzmann’s location was impossible. She looked up, watching for lights as the lights in their hallway went out. Sam didn’t see any flashes lighting up other aisles. She tugged gently on Vincent’s arm to get his attention before she spoke.

  “Where is he?”

  Vincent moved slowly, glancing back at her as he answered. “I don’t know. The ventilation in here…”

  “Yeah, I know. He could be anywhere.” Sam glanced back behind her, her eyes adjusting to the darkness and enhancing the grey vision she now possessed. Nothing was behind them yet, and she couldn’t smell any other werewolves… only Prutzmann. She turned back and pushed Vincent’s arm again. “Should we move that way?”

  “It will turn on the lights.”

  “Well, we can’t just stay here. Even if we scrap the mission, we still have
to get out of here.”

  Vincent turned back, his irritation evident. “Why would we go?”

  “Hey,” Sam began. “Don’t get snorty with me.” Sam squinted into the dark. “We’ve already been back there, so let’s keep going forward. Lights or no lights.”

  “Alright. Stay behind me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Vincent closed his eyes and turned. Part of him already knew what would be facing him, and he was right. Arms crossed, frown creasing her forehead, eyes narrowed, Sam was the picture of a female who had been challenged. She was cute, all five-feet three-inches of her standing there in front of him… fearless and feisty, and quite honestly all he wanted to do was find the nearest empty storage unit and proceed to drown in her for as long as possible. But…

  “Sweetheart, I was sworn to protect you, long before there was an ‘us’… Please let me.”

  Sam started to answer, but suddenly the loud sound of scraping metal-on-metal reverberated through the warehouse. It would have been an awful sound even before the conversion, but with werewolf hearing everything was super loud. Sam quickly covered her ears, trying to diminish the din. Vincent winced visibly, his shoulders nearly coming up over his ears.

  The scraping stopped as abruptly as it started, and an eerie kind of quiet descended.

  Sam lowered her hands from her ears and quickly took to scenting the air, the only way to ‘see’ anything in the almost total blackness of the space. She could hear Vincent doing the same.

  “I smell fresh air,” Vincent whispered, glancing behind them. “I can’t tell how many came in, can you?”

  “No.”

  Sam could hear him muttering Irish curses under his breath as he reached for her hand. “C’mon. I think there’s a lift near the emergency lights up ahead. We need to go up.” He pulled her along gently behind him.