“I’m not stupid. I’ll find that goddamn hitman and shoot him between the eyes. I don’t care if you’re one of those bloody Renegades—you’re causing me trouble.”
Aviere smiled as another set of headlights flashed in their direction. “Good luck. I understand your hitman delights in killing, Vinny.”
The barrel jammed closer until Aviere winced. “Then he’ll kill you, Mye. I didn’t accept half a million dollars to let you live.”
How do I land in these situations? The Poisoner asked herself, trying to identify the automobile speeding toward them. And who offered half a million dollars to execute me? I placed myself lower on the bounty list on purpose!
“Oh, by the way…” Vinny lowered the pistol until it settled against her right thigh. “Pussycats should listen to their masters, Mye.”
She tried pivoting, but ceased at lancing pain from Vinny’s fist interlaced through her brunette hair. As she toiled through a pain-filled daze, air whooshed from Aviere’s lungs before landing on her knees. When she flung her arms forward to break her fall, the right arm refused to obey.
Aviere squeezed her eyes and landed on her left wrist, gasping in agony when her glasses and cheek scraped against the blacktop.
The last thing she remembered before darkness claimed her was warm blood spurting down her thigh and tires screeching near her position.
Every fucking time I let Mye loose, the bitch gets herself in trouble.
The cherry Corvette spun and drifted, missing Aviere and Armandi’s lifeless carcass. Travis checked the mirrors again, hoping Armandi’s body was a hallucination. When the same figure presented itself, the agent cursed, flinging his gearshift to park the car.
Travis leapt from the vehicle with the motor still running, swiftly arming himself with the Desert Eagle.
Hazel eyes skimmed the area, used to the explosions and gunshots firing back and forth. Each minute, the noise lapsed until a sonic boom erupted. He sprinted left and rushed toward Aviere’s bloody form, holding his breath when he aimed at the Italian pinstripe-suited businessman.
Mye’s right. Every businessman tries killing her.
Travis tipped the wide-brimmed cowboy hat and growled when Vinny pulled the senseless woman upright, using Aviere for cover. He watched Aviere’s cloudy cerulean eyes flutter in turmoil before registering the soft painful whine. Darkness dropped from his partner’s aura, leaving a pale lime aura instead of forest green.
Magic tingled in Travis’ fingers, yearning to be released.
Travis sent power through the handgun, unwinding as the ominous voice inside his mind encouraged his behavior. As he met Vinny’s emerald eyes and watched Aviere’s impassive stare, hazel eyes hardened and fixated on Vinny’s skull.
Easy shot, Travis. Hit him between the eyes, breeze through Mye. Widen the shoulder wound to get a perfect shot.
Before Travis tightened his finger on the trigger, Vinny crouched and maneuvered Aviere for better cover. A feeble cry sounded before the woman subconsciously leaned against her captor, shuddering in place. Travis’ eyebrows drew together after discovering two bullet wounds on Aviere’s right side, but his mouth went dry at the blood gushing down her leg. Crimson blood stained her jeans and precious leather boots, pooling around her foot while Aviere’s body paled.
Seriously?! She just got—never mind. McSeeten’s right here. Finish him, patch Mye. Silence the stupid killer inside and don’t screw around, Keith. There’s no margin for error and if Mye dies, you’re screwed.
“McSeeten, Mye’s too short for a shield,” Travis said with amusement.
“You tricked me.” A pistol revealed itself in Vinny’s right hand. “You promised her head, not being in cahoots with the tramp.”
“Someone paid higher,” Travis explained, aiming at Aviere’s shoulder. “But I’ll blast through Mye to stop you, McSeeten. Fitting punishment for the bitch since Mye’s always screwing up my plans.”
“Torturing her’s so much fun, though.” Vinny’s Berretta 96A1 jammed against Aviere’s chin and she winced before one eye squinted shut. “I wonder how many bullets Mye can take before bleeding to death. Too bad Armandi’s dead. I’d love making that asshole squirm, considering the hard—”
Magic laced the Desert Eagle when Travis fired, crossing himself with his free hand when another bullet tore through Aviere’s already wounded shoulder.
Travis almost mimicked Vinny’s shot, but opened the exit wound by another inch. Blood poured from her shoulder as it passed through and sniped Vinny, sending the criminal backward. As Vinny shoved Aviere forward and landed on his side, Travis disregarded the injured shifter and pressed his weapon to Vinny’s heart, grinning maliciously at drawing first blood.
This time, I’ll kill. It’s justice, even if Mye fucked up. She didn’t lie about Armandi, so I assume his death’s temporary. But letting Mye die won’t solve anything.
Travis heard Vinny blubber as he pleaded conniving excuses. One eye flashed at his limp partner, blood gushing over asphalt while cursing Travis’ intervention.
Aviere Mye took a goddamn bullet and didn’t flinch or complain. She’s worth keeping, so I’ll rescue her for free, Lyssa.
One final excuse and Travis silenced Vinny’s pleas, arm stiffening in place when the killer released a blood-curling scream. Vinny’s screaming ended after Travis’ last bullet lodged in his skull. After gazing in Vinny’s lifeless eyes and parted mouth, Travis retrieved his Blackberry, dialing a number by memory.
Two rings later, the recipient answered and Travis cut Sanderson short. “McSeeten’s taken care of, but Mye’s fucked up. Took two rounds and cursed about how I stole her kill. I’ll call when she’s stable and I’m not watching Rodriguez throw cars at people. Tell Rodriguez and Q to clean up—Mye incapacitated Peters before pursuing her suicide mission.”
Before Sanderson asked questions, Travis slipped the phone into his pocket, then plunged to one knee before holding Aviere’s struggling form.
“Stole—bastard,” she wheezed. “Had—had it—”
“Aviere, stop bullshitting.” Travis gazed at his stained trench coat and discharged a resigned sigh as he scanned her injuries. One hand shoved against her thigh, working to staunch the wound. “You’re paying my dry cleaning bill. I ruined three suits this week, but now you’re staining my trench coat.”
“Twit.” A shaky hand covered Travis’ bloody one. “You’ll go numb.” One arm draped around Travis’ shoulder as she tried rising to one knee. “Teleport before—not dying here.”
The agent cradled Aviere and growled when his right hand tingled. “Damn it, Aviere. You can’t be simple, can you?”
“You know where to go, right?” she murmured, whimpering when Travis moved her.
“Yeah.”
Travis fought against knots inside his stomach when Aviere’s arm banged against his leg. Shallow breathing and her icy touch prompted Travis to hurry.
He imagined Sistine Memorial Hospital and the hectic staff, cringing at the prospect of dealing with Aviere’s doctor again. The lovely aqua-haired nurse was a bonus, but Travis shivered, despite the scorching air.
Aviere Mye… you’ve skinned by on three lives. Somehow, I don’t think you’ll die. Still, there's a possibility…
The Blackberry vibrated ominously against Travis’ leg, but he disregarded it and focused again. Muscles contracted in Travis’ neck, but loosened when the Poisoner’s bloody glove touched one of his forearms.
“Mye, stop ruining my shirts. Dry cleaning’s expensive.”
“Keith…”
“Don’t,” Travis said. “You’re close—”
“Thanks… you know, for not letting me die.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Travis muttered, clutching Aviere’s body until she moaned. “You still got Peters and Sanderson to contend with. When you’re discharged, I’m having that goddamn meeting, Mye.”
“Lecture… later.” Travis recognized Aviere’s nauseated moan. “Thought pain… blocked na
usea.”
Travis closed his eyes and focused, growling when Jemina’s accented voice cut through his concentration. He paused long enough to recognized barked orders at other men before continuing, phasing from the busy airport parking garage as loud voices sounded nearby.
When Travis entered the emergency room, warm hands moved Aviere from the agent’s numbed grip. A string of profanities left Travis’ parched lips as he raised his weary head, wondering how Limere beat Travis to the hospital without visiting the scene. Clenching his good fist, Travis hurried down the hall, answering Sanderson’s incoming call.
After a few curt sentences, Travis hung up, scowling when the Blackberry dropped inside his trench coat.
“Damn it, Mye,” he grumbled, peeping through the operating room doors. “You left me with reports, two weeks of docked pay, Peters’ shitty disposition, and forced overtime. You’re a lucky pussycat, you know. Otherwise, I’d strangle you myself.”
The speech sounded hollow, compared to the adrenaline pumping through his exhausted body. Blood pulsated through veins on his forehead, adding to tense, aching muscles and breath trapped in his throat. From the side, Travis spotted Limere removing a skinny stick from an elegant silver box. The lanky mage’s hands trembled when he lit the joint between sticky, bloodstained fingers.
Dalara, today’s a free pardon.
Travis steadied Limere’s grip and shook his head, setting a finger between parched lips. Hazel eyes dulled as Limere smoked, blowing a cloud in Travis’ face. After three hits, the mage’s hand stopped tremoring. Then Travis blinked, surprised Limere offered him marijuana inside the emergency ward.
Lyssa… God help me, but I’m supporting criminals. What’s the world come to, sweetheart?
Raising an eyebrow, Travis accepted the gift before squashing it with his boot, then pointed to the waiting room. After a petulant glare, Limere stalked off, punting a chair as he exited the automatic doors.
Just because I support Mye doesn’t mean I’ll break the law, Lyssa. But it’ll be a long night, so I’ll explain what happened.
The agent leaned against the slate gray wall, Desert Eagle in hand while he recounted his adventure to a loved one who’d never understand. Even if Lyssa never answered, Travis’ spirits rose, relieved he hadn’t allowed someone he cared about to perish.
Chapter Twenty
Aviere Mye surveyed her barren apartment and scrunched her nose, sneezing from a dust cloud uncovered when she opened the closet door.
The jarring force made the Poisoner cringe before snatching her injured arm, resting inside the navy blue and white sling. Her right arm tingled, then diminished to a tolerable throb seconds later. Once resolved, Aviere dragged a silver suitcase into the living room, tipping it to the ground as she unzipped the scattered contents.
It’ll be nice to stop living in hotels, out of suitcases, and sit on matching furniture. But until then, everyone’s been supportive, even if they’ve been overbearing.
The faint noise from the television settled Aviere’s nerves as she scanned the suitcase, beaming at her comfortable clothes and various manga inside the suitcase. Some covers were ruined, but remained favorites, despite their condition. Aviere ran slim fingers across one dog-eared cover before two whacks at the door grabbed her attention.
No one’s supposed to show. Reese and Lim are in Annapolis purchasing furniture with Celene. Joseph and Jemina are out of town for the weekend. I looked forward to quiet time, away from everyone’s watchful gaze.
“Open the damn door, Mye!”
Aviere rolled cerulean eyes at the nasally voice calling through the metal green door. Nostrils flared when Aviere sighed, flinging the suitcase as she rose from the floor.
Christ, even on medical, Agent Neuro’s a pain in the ass. Travis, why bring Neuro with you?
More banging ensued before Aviere shuffled to the door, shoving it forward with her good arm when it opened. She chuckled when Peters stepped back, clutching his stubby nose.
“You didn’t have to jab me, bitch,” Peters muttered.
“I’m off work and you’re hassling me,” Aviere said, tipping her head. “Where’s Travis? If you’re here, Travis isn’t far behind you.”
She jumped when a cool finger tapped her shoulder from behind, but remained in place when Travis’ strong voice sounded in her ear. “I checked out the apartment before you moved in, Mye. Dalara showed me around. And we’re never off, you know. Just on call when we’re not assigned.”
Aviere spun and faced Travis, pointing to her cradled arm and bandaged thigh. “Sanderson insisted I stay home. Offered me a cool twenty thousand and six weeks paid medical leave if I agreed.”
“Sanderson offered you McSeeten’s bounty, Mye.” Travis’ voice turned clipped. “I killed him, not you.”
“Actually,” Aviere said with a smirk, “It was one third of Aravice’s bounty. Sanderson split it between us. Neuro got screwed, though. Consider giving the human some of your cut, considering I’ve got medical bills out the ass. Peters found Aravice, after all.” She sneaked to the living room and glared at Peters’ flabbergasted expression. “Step inside or I’m leaving you in the hallway, Peters. I’m not completely cold, after all.”
As she caught Peters shuffling inside, Aviere’s heart rate rose. Pale hands remained naked, and she rested her right arm against her thigh, conscientious about approaching the other men. She plopped into a plaid recliner and motioned the agents to accompany her on mismatched furniture.
While Travis followed by parking on a hot-pink loveseat, raising an eyebrow in Aviere’s direction, Peters’ eyes darted around the desolate living room. After a minute, Aviere chuckled, sipping on bottled water.
“There’s no hidden toys, Neuro. I moved last night after leaving the hospital. No time to booby trap the apartment.”
“How do I know that?” Peters retorted. “I didn’t realize you’d tranquilize me in the first place!”
“Christ, take a seat, Neuro,” Aviere said, driving the cool bottle against her flushing forehead. “I’m already leery seeing you two, but I’m sure this isn’t a welfare check.”
“I should’ve used my last bullet, Mye.”
Oh, here we go, the Poisoner thought, crossing a leg as she shifted to a comfortable position. Seriously, Neuro. Let it go, man.
“Peters, shut up and sit down,” Travis ordered, voice rougher than expected. “We don’t have long before Sanderson calls, and I’m tired of the resident asshole blowing up my Blackberry.”
Aviere jammed the water between her thighs as a placeholder. “Travis, if you needed to talk, you shouldn’t have brought Peters.”
“We’re a unit, so I couldn’t leave Peters behind, Mye.” A cowboy boot almost went through a wooden coffee table and Aviere covered her mouth. “You fucked up, you know. You went rogue and improvised with no help.”
“I had to.” Aviere held her cradled arm, staring at her scraped knee. “Louis Armandi tried settling things on his own. I didn’t make up the phone call, but Louis wouldn’t listen. So, I took matters into my hands. Better than the alternative. Christ, even I can’t handle the entire Underground hunting me.”
“You pretended to poison Louis Armandi, Aviere,” Travis declared, lowering his voice. “Dalara found him in suspended animation. He almost dropped you until he talked with Rodriguez and Dalara. The businessman met me and cursed your family’s name, holding me responsible for your wild antics that evening.”
Aviere waggled an eyebrow and her cerulean eyes gleamed. “I figured, but couldn’t assume. Still, everything went according to plan, so why the meeting?”
The joyous gleam left Aviere's eyes when Travis sprang from the couch and poised over her. “You practically killed us because of the bomb collars.”
Aviere spotted the replaced bracelet on her left wrist and nodded, face turning crimson. “Yeah, that.”
“I prefer my head between my shoulders, Mye. Something about breathing and living brightens my day sometimes, des
pite my gloomy disposition.” Aviere’s arm tensed when Travis took her wrist. “Imagine needing a prosthetic to drive. That’d be difficult, wouldn’t it?”
“Be kind of cool,” she admitted, giddy at the idea. “You know, the bionic arm and all would make me a cool hellcat, eh?”
Bitter coffee assaulted Aviere’s nostrils on top of the stinging aftershave. She gulped and managed not to heave on Travis’ pristine uniform.
“Fine, I get it. Back away, Travis.”
“Not till you explain why you texted fake directions, Mye.”
“I thought of the delicate balance. The Underground teetered after the Underbosses died. Their replacements were being brought up to speed. Each respect Armandi, and Evelyn seeded doubt about my assistance.” Aviere twisted her neck and stopped when Peters moved into her vision. “If you were them, would you suspect Lil’ Vinny of shooting Armandi, or me?”
“Considering you fucking drugged me—”
“Why do I bother asking?” Aviere chided. “I knew you’d be prejudiced, Neuro.”
Heavy, calloused hands slammed on slender shoulders and Aviere cried when pain lanced through her injured body. The Poisoner clutched the sensitive joint and kicked Travis aside before hunching over in the recliner. Lithe fingers struck a pressure point, and some pain lifted, but not before the headache trailed from sore nerves in her neck.
Travis, you’re lucky I have one arm. Otherwise, I’d lay you out across the wooden floor.
Aviere kept her left eye shut and scrutinized Travis with the right. “Look, I confess, there’s one other reason. I assumed you’d get Neuro, and he screws up everything.”
“I’m not upset about ditching Peters, Mye.”
“I am!” Peters yelled, storming to Aviere. “Travis’ coordination between our unit and Sanderson was sloppy! You wouldn’t be injured if I—”
“Neuro,” Aviere interrupted, splaying warm fingers against her temple, “I’d rather hang myself then have you on field patrol. You’re a geek. No geek should shoot guns.”
Turbulence: Book One in The Renegades Saga Page 31
