In the Blood (Metahuman Files Book 4)

by Hailey Turner

  “A pity,” Jamie murmured.

  “Ariella is telling Juan. Your father’s campaign manager will make the final decision.”

  “All right.”

  With that issue momentarily handled, Jamie rejoined his family, pretending to be interested in what Sun Tech management had to say about providing jobs for Americans. Which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t that many since manufacturing was automated on a mass scale these days. But talking about jobs helped the poll numbers, which meant Jamie had to nod his way through the small talk and pose for pictures in the end.

  When the tour was over, everyone made their way back to the loading area, the self-driving long-haul trucks parked out of the way of the stage the campaign had erected for the rally. The Secret Service monitored the perimeter and handled the security of the crowd. The campaign had invited local supporters for the small speech in the middle of Los Angeles’ commercial business district. Optics were a huge part of political spin, and Jamie’s family was known as one of the best in the business.

  “Ariella says she doesn’t have your itinerary for Boston,” Charlotte said through the smile on her face as they watched Richard huddle with his aides off to the side of the stage.

  Jamie fought back a grimace. The Boston campaign rally scheduled for tomorrow had been on the calendar for almost two months, set to take place on the Boston Common. Jamie didn’t like the open-air setting at all, especially with a planned counter-protest scheduled for that same day. The possibility of a clash between the two ideological sides was too great.

  With everything going on back in D.C., Jamie had wanted to return to base after the speech today and get a handle on the problem. He knew Kyle wanted—needed—some time alone to reach out to his family and be reassured they were safe.

  “I promised I would be there, Mother. Don’t worry,” Jamie replied.

  “I’m your mother. That’s my job. You’ll return to Manhattan with us after the speech today. We’ll arrive in Boston tomorrow as a family. I had Ariella book Kyle a first-class ticket on a flight to D.C. for later this evening.”

  “Mother—”

  “Don’t argue, Jamie. The Boston rally is important to your father. We need you to put the campaign first tomorrow, not anything else.”

  The no-nonsense tone in his mother’s voice was one Jamie had heard plenty of times before in his life. As much as Jamie wanted to argue with his mother about it, this wasn’t the time and place to do so. Charlotte was never keen on public disagreements, and Jamie knew better than to start an argument in view of the press. The presence of the media was why Charlotte had probably chosen to speak up right now. Their audience kept Jamie toeing the family line better than anything else could at the moment.

  “Have you at least taken my concerns about safety to the Boston PD?” Jamie asked after he managed to shake off his anger at being outmaneuvered.

  “The logistics of the rally isn’t for you to worry about, Jamie. We just need you to be there.”

  Jamie nodded silently, not trusting himself to continue the conversation. He opted to keep his attention on the task at hand instead.

  Like all campaign rallies and speeches, someone had to introduce Richard and tout his accomplishments. Today, that job fell to Leah, who calmly took the stage with a smile on her face, applauded on by the rest of them. The location meant the crowd couldn’t be huge, but intimate settings always made for nice optics. With the signage behind her and a sea of supporters up front, Leah played the crowd like the master she was as she introduced their father.

  A hand brushed against his, and Jamie glanced over at Kyle as the younger man stepped closer, his green eyes on the crowd of people. The manufacturing plant was to their right while the loading area stretched out to the property line. Low-built warehouses were typical buildings in the area, with most of the properties in the vicinity off-limits. Sun Tech employees made up the majority of the small crowd, but their excitement seemed genuine.

  “It’s a little crazy,” Kyle admitted.

  “Only going to get worse once the primaries start,” Jamie said.

  “Do you think your schedule will change once the race kicks into high gear?”

  “I won’t let it.”

  It didn’t feel like a false promise, even if it might be. Jamie knew he could promise whatever he liked right now, but the needs of the campaign would become more intense over the next few months. The MDF would need to account for that, even if Jamie would rather the director order him to remain on duty.

  Kyle flashed him a quick smile before he wandered back to where Ariella stood off to the side, close, but not in the area reserved for family. Jamie wanted to reach for his hand and haul Kyle back, to keep him by his side, but knew that was impossible right now.

  Leah finished with her speech and Jamie stepped to the side a little as his father climbed the stairs to the stage. Leah gave their father a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek before rejoining everyone in the roped-off area meant for family. Jamie was only peripherally aware of the cameras taking their pictures and recording their movements for later use as his father opened up his speech with a greeting to the crowd.

  Jamie had skimmed the speech on the drive over to tailor his own talking points around it when the press inevitably interviewed him. It skewed heavily toward the economy with a few veiled swipes here and there at Richard’s opponents, most notably the vice president, who was running fifth in polls for the Republican nomination. The last presidency hadn’t exactly been a favorable one during the second term—a lame duck presidency, as argued by the critics—which was why the race had so many vying for the prize.

  A few minutes into Richard’s speech, Jamie’s comms chimed with an incoming call. He pulled the sleeves of his suit jacket and dress shirt up his arm, frowning down at the string of numbers scrolling over his bioware. He thought about rejecting the call, but had a feeling Stanislav would just keep calling.

  He stepped to the side, putting some distance between himself and his mother and sister. Jamie ducked his head a little and answered the call.

  “I’m busy,” he bit out in a low voice.

  “You have two days remaining,” Stanislav said in cool greeting. “I’m calling to make sure you remember our bargain.”

  Jamie glared at the ground between the gleaming points of his Oxford wingtips. “I’m well aware of the time constraints. It won’t be a problem, even if it seems you have one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jamie lifted one hand to touch behind his ears. The skin over the embedded bioware there was smooth and warm. He angled his hand so as to hide his mouth and the words he spoke from anyone in the crowd looking his way.

  “I received a nice little warning from the GRU the other night about how I shouldn’t trust you. Care to throw some light on that?”

  The line was quiet for a few seconds, the drone of Richard’s voice echoing in Jamie’s ears.

  “The Glavnoye Razvedyvatel'noye Upravleniye is not a problem,” Stanislav finally said.

  “Seems like it is from where I stand.”

  Stanislav let out an impatient noise. “GRU pretend to have power, da? But they are nothing. They have no standing with the people who matter.”

  “People like you?”

  “Is my word not good enough?”

  “The agent lied her way into an Empyrean brand party the other night. I want more than assurances from you.”

  “The Kremlin favors my family. That should be enough assurance. The GRU is not a problem.”

  “That’s not enough. Our partnership is with you, not a third party.”

  “Having second thoughts, Jamie?”

  Third and fourth, if Jamie were being honest, with some compounded interest thrown in just for the hell of it. But he couldn’t say that. “Not enough to back out.”

  Which was a lie he could taste, and hoped Stanislav couldn’t hear. But Jamie’s worry over what Stanislav might think was immediately overrun by the sudden thr
eat that reared its ugly head.

  “Gun!” Kyle yelled out with battlefield loudness, voice ripping through the air.

  Jamie’s head snapped up at the warning, the call cutting off in his ears. Kyle was a blur, already racing for the stage even as the Secret Service responded to his warning. Two men sprinted from their positions at the corner of the stage to haul Richard away from the podium as people in the crowd began to realize something was wrong.

  Then the first bullet slammed into the Secret Service agent standing in front of Richard, causing the man to crumple to his knees. He survived only because of the Kevlar-lined vest he wore beneath his dress shirt, the same sort Richard wore beneath his expensive bespoke suit.

  At least, Jamie hoped his father was wearing it.

  Jamie was halfway to the stage when Kyle reached his father, putting his body between Richard and the shooter. Screams and shouts pierced the air as Kyle hauled Richard toward the side of the stage and what questionable cover they could find out in the open like this.

  Hands grabbed at Jamie’s arms, Burwell popping up out of nowhere to get in Jamie’s face. “Take cover!”

  Jamie glared at the special agent before shaking free of his minders with ferocious ease and going to meet Kyle’s frantic dash off the stage. His father’s eyes were wide holes in his pale face, mouth parted in shock as Kyle literally dragged him behind the stage where the Secret Service had corralled Charlotte and Leah.

  Over everyone’s heads, Jamie could see one of the campaign’s SUVs racing down the backstretch of the loading area to extract them. The Secret Service was barking orders over comms Jamie didn’t have access to, and he didn’t trust them to get the job done when it came to his family.

  Catching Kyle’s eye, Jamie jerked his head in the direction of where the shots had come from. “Find the bastard.”

  Kyle nodded, unholstered a gun from the small of his back, and disappeared into the panicking crowd. Jamie, unarmed because of the location and his job of playing dutiful son, reached out and hauled a Secret Service special agent around by the back of his plain black jacket. The man in question looked surprised, considering he was almost of height with Jamie and might even have a few pounds on him.

  “I need to borrow this,” Jamie said.

  He wrenched the gun out of the man’s grip, checked to make sure the safety was off, then raced after Kyle. Jamie ignored the affronted yell Burwell let out behind him as he disregarded safety protocol for those under government protection in favor of finding the shooter.

  Jamie scanned the area, eyes catching on every conceivable location the sniper could have made their nest in. The options seemed limitless. Rather than focus on the possibilities, Jamie focused on Kyle.

  “Location,” he snapped over their personal encrypted comms.

  “Shooter was on the roof of the next building over in tech camouflage,” Kyle responded. “Didn’t the Secret Service canvass the area?”

  “I wasn’t in charge of security. How’d you spot the bastard?”

  “He’s using tech camouflage, but fucker forgot to hide his scope. Saw the flash.”

  Jamie would be forever grateful for shitty, untrained shooters if it meant his father survived. Tech camouflage usually meant a nanotech woven suit that could mimic any surrounding background and hide the person in question from most searches. The gear was useful for holding position under stealth, but not for a fight. Luckily, Kyle’s sharp eyesight had saved Jamie a lot of grief.

  He’d thank Kyle later, after the adrenaline wore off.

  The Secret Service had no chance in hell of corralling the crowd. Jamie managed to lose his minders by running headfirst into the sea of panicked people flailing around for a way out. Jamie elbowed anyone who got close out of his way, trying not to hurt them with his enhanced strength, but not really caring if he did.

  Jamie came out on the other side unharmed, back against the wall of the processing plant, as he tried to reorient himself. All he saw were civilians and the occasional Secret Service special agent in their drab suits.

  “Kyle?” Jamie asked, remembering at the last minute not to use Reaper. Spouting off code names when they weren’t in uniform was a great way to blow their cover.

  “Out front,” was the immediate answer.

  Jamie moved, working his way toward the street and the wide-open gates that everyone was running for. Jamie made it outside the property in time to see Kyle jump onto a car and take a two-handed shooting position on the roof.

  “I want him alive!” Jamie yelled over the noise of the screaming, scattering crowd, the order echoing over the comms.

  Kyle didn’t give any indication he heard as he took his shot, but Jamie knew he’d get the job done. The sound of tires squealing down the street caught Jamie’s attention as he worked his way to Kyle’s position. Pressing up against the bumper of the car, Jamie brought up his borrowed gun and sighted down it at the target in question.

  Kyle pulled the trigger in rapid succession and the getaway car down the street lost both back tires. Metal rims gouged the asphalt, sending up sparks, as the vehicle lurched forward. Kyle held his position; Jamie didn’t know how many bullets he had left in his gun. Kyle wasn’t shooting with a rifle, so his range would be limited.

  Not by much, Jamie thought to himself as the driver and their passenger abandoned the vehicle.

  Jamie tagged the passenger as the shooter. The man was difficult to make out in the sunlight, the nanotech suit he wore flashing in damage from a hit Kyle had scored earlier. Instead of running for cover, the man turned to face them, raising up his long gun in both hands, shouting garbled threats Jamie couldn’t clearly make out. His partner in crime stepped up to join him, carrying a submachine gun in one hand he wasn’t shy about using.

  It was as much a death by suicide as an attempt to stand their ground. While Kyle aimed for the sniper’s arm, several Secret Service members on the periphery of the crowd aimed to kill both enemy shooters.

  Jamie’s shouted warning from earlier was ignored in favor of eliminating the threat.

  He knew it was the right option, the only way out the Secret Service could possibly accept after an assassination attempt on one of their protectees. But fucking hell, Jamie wanted answers.

  You couldn’t get answers from a dead man.

  “You were supposed to take cover!” Burwell snarled as he approached, trailed by a couple of other agents.

  Jamie ignored him as Kyle jumped off the car, landing soundlessly on his feet, gun still up and ready to shoot. “See any other threats, Kyle?”

  “No way to be certain now since these guys killed our mouthpieces,” Kyle reported, sounding as annoyed as Jamie felt.

  Burwell scowled, directing his ire from Jamie to Kyle. “What the hell do you—”

  Jamie was tired, stressed out, and wondering just what the fuck he’d done to deserve this shit as he stepped between the special agent and Kyle. The look on Jamie’s face was enough for Burwell to cut himself off and draw up short in surprise.

  “We needed the shooter and his partner alive. Extracting any information from them about any other threats just became impossible because your people were too goddamn trigger-happy to wait,” Jamie growled.

  Jamie rarely lost his temper, but when it came to his family’s safety, rationality went out the window. A little voice in the back of his mind muttered about how none of them would be in this situation if the MDF hadn’t leaned so heavily on his name and the social status it came with.

  A warm hand slipped over his, pulling the gun free. Jamie recognized Kyle’s touch even through the heat of anger. He didn’t protest being divested of his borrowed weapon, especially after Kyle tilted his head toward the Sun Tech processing plant.

  “Got eyes on us,” Kyle said.

  Jamie’s gaze cut swiftly to the stragglers milling around near the plant’s entrance, noting the cameras turned in their direction. Jamie ground his teeth for a few seconds before forcibly clearing his face of any te
lling emotion.

  “Where is my family?” he demanded.

  Burwell stared at him, still thrown a little off his game from Jamie’s attitude, before he got himself under control. “The senator is being taken offsite to a secure location. We’ll take you to him. Don’t argue.”

  Jamie refrained from rolling his eyes, but just barely. Kyle stuck by his side, keeping one gun in hand and his face turned away from the cameras aimed their way. The Secret Service hustled them into a waiting SUV and the driver barely waited long enough for the doors to shut before she slammed her foot on the gas.

  Jamie braced his feet against the floorboards as he buckled up. “I need an uplink.”

  Burwell twisted around in the passenger seat, mouth open, probably to argue, but Jamie wasn’t in any mood to deal with a man who thought he knew better than Jamie when he clearly fucking didn’t. Everything took so much longer when he wasn’t working with his team who could anticipate his needs before he even knew them.

  At least he had Kyle.

  “Open up a fucking uplink,” Kyle ordered icily. His tone promised murder for the first person who disobeyed, so it didn’t surprise Jamie that the driver was the one who opened up an uplink for Jamie to access without argument.

  Burwell shot her a reproachful look which she chose to ignore. Jamie mentally noted that at least one member of the Secret Service agency knew how to follow orders.

  Jamie synced his bioware to the uplink and called his father. Richard answered after a couple of rings, sounding harried and having about three separate conversations at the exact same time with just as many people.

  “Father, are you all right? What about Mother and Leah?” Jamie immediately asked.

  “Jamie?” Richard asked. “Where are you?”

  “Focus, Father.”

  “We’re unharmed. We were escorted out of the vicinity and are being taken somewhere secure. I think we’re going—”