by Judy Mills
When I reached the last platform, I crouched down outside the window and leaned my computer against the building. Drawing my gun, I took a nice, steadying breath and carefully pressed in the code into the keypad attached to the frame. Any mistakes and the traps triggered around it, killing me instantly. To my relief, the window glided silently up.
I vaulted into the apartment, grabbed my computer and shut the window. As the locks and traps reengaged, I closed the curtains. If anyone wanted to spy on me, I wanted to make it as difficult as possible for them.
After dropping my computer onto the bed, I left the bedroom and did a sweep through the apartment. My office and apartment probably under surveillance, this was my new home for the next couple of days. I needed to focus on making sure the place hadn't been compromised.
As I moved through the safe house Cooper and I had established barely a month ago, I was relieved to see that dust was where it should be, no fingerprints were in evidence, and nothing had moved. Perfect, except there was no sign of Cooper.
I told myself I was an idiot for getting my hopes up. The chance that he'd be able to keep our agreement to meet with all hell breaking loose was slim to none. I'd rather have him safe. The pit of my stomach still felt empty.
I holstered my Browning and wandered into the kitchen to make myself something to eat. We always kept plenty of shelf items, including canned meats and freeze-dried packaged meals like the military favored.
Chicken noodle soup sounded like a good place to start. I got down the container and was about to put water in the teakettle when I heard the faltering creak of a floorboard from the bedroom.
My gun was in my hand and I was down behind the counter before I'd taken my next breath. My heart pounded as I focused on the sound. Someone—or something—was in the apartment with me.
A dresser drawer opened and closed in the bedroom. That ruled out critters, which wasn't comforting. To cover any possibility, I checked to make sure my gun was keyed to bullets and crept my way toward the bedroom. I approached the door from the side and slid around the frame just far enough to see into the room.
The broad muscled back and nicely shaped butt of a beautiful man greeted me and I felt my tension drain away. Cooper bent his head with its thick brown, black and silver brindled hair over the dresser and rifled through the top drawer.
I holstered my weapon. "You might as well turn around. I know you can smell me."
"Yes. Yes, I can." He glanced over his shoulder revealing silver-green wolf eyes and flashed a grin at me that made a warm fuzzy feeling of belonging roll around in my chest despite my anxiety.
"Too bad I don't have time to get you into the shower," he said, a growly note of flirtation in his voice.
I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe. "I love it when you talk dirty. Speaking of which, there's a rumor going around about you."
"Did you destroy the FBI iC I gave you?"
"Track me once, shame on you. Track me twice...."
"Glad you remembered that." He started pawing through the drawer again.
"Who's framing you, Cooper?"
His gaze hit me, intense and full of emotion, then his shoulders relaxed. He understood that I believed he was innocent and that meant something to him. My heart unexpectedly went soft and misty around the edges.
"Probably the man behind the curtain who's putting amped up V on the street," he said, pulling T-shirts and sweatpants out of the drawer and bundling them up.
"You're smart to run." What Bellmonte couldn't find, Bellmonte couldn't hurt.
"It's gone too far for that."
What? Fear and anger tightened in my stomach, chasing away my moment of relief. "It's not wrong to protect yourself."
He shoved the drawer shut and then headed for the closet. "They're watching your office and apartment," he said as he pulled out two backpacks. "You'll have to keep moving. They want to question you."
"Tell me you're not going to step into the line of fire."
He headed for the bedroom door. Without thinking, I blocked his way. I needed to stop him. He would risk his life for what he believed in. I couldn't let him do that.
"We can disappear," I said.
"No."
"When I was ten, I survived with the terrorist paranormals roaming the streets hungry for human meat. I know how to get around without being seen. We have safe houses like this all over the city. I have caches of food and arms even you don't know about." I clenched my teeth, desperately wanting him to understand what I could barely admit myself—I didn't think I could stand to lose him. "We can vanish. I'm good at it."
His expression softened. "I know." Cooper traced the tips of his fingers down my cheek and the pain gripping my gut compressed into an unbearable ache.
He moved me firmly to one side and strode out of the bedroom and into the main room of the apartment. I followed him, watching with a sickening kind of helplessness as he tossed a backpack onto the sofa and then combed quickly through the apartment, exchanging items already in the emergency pack with other supplies here and there. He dug two iCs out of the back of a kitchen drawer and tossed one to me. I caught it and stared at the dull, black surface.
"Lord Bellmonte might be involved," he said.
I activated the untraceable iC used by Cooper's clan and slipped it into my pocket. "He's promised to hurt people I care about if I don't produce whoever's responsible for the drug."
"He can try. My money's on you."
Small comfort. I picked up a discarded ration pack of freeze-dried mac and cheese that Cooper had tossed down and stuffed it into the other pack for Falcon. I felt forlorn and I didn't like it. I frowned at the pack. "You can't protect the people you love when they won't cooperate."
He was instantly beside me. Dropping his pack, he pulled me against his chest. "Cooperation is overrated," he rumbled. "It's more fun to outmaneuver."
His lips came down on mine, possessive and hungry. Our tongues danced together as my mouth slanted across his and heat washed over me, making my breath catch. Too soon he broke away, the lingering warmth on my lips laced with bitter sorrow.
Cooper leaned back and his gaze swept over my face as if he wanted to memorize every detail of it. Then he grabbed his backpack off the floor and forged past me into the bedroom.
"Trust Ms. Fairview. She'll help you if she can." He headed for the window and something tightened in my chest like a fist squeezing the last drop of happiness out of my heart.
I followed him and stopped in the doorway. This was insane. I had to stop him.
Drawing my gun, I keyed it to load Were poison. The slim vial of shimmering gold liquid clicked into place. If I had to knock him out to protect him, I would.
I aimed the weapon at Cooper. "I can make you do the right thing."
He keyed in the lock code at the window. The sash slid silently up. "I already am."
"Not for us."
He looked at me, duty and longing battling in his silver-green eyes. "I'm sorry."
I lowered my gun, the painful clenching in my gut rising up to tighten my throat. He swung his leg over the sill and looked at me, long and hard. The trust I saw in his eyes burned into me. "Number 53 in forty-eight hours. I'll be there if I can." And he was gone.
Despite myself, I ran to the window. "Damn it, Cooper!"
Helpless to stop him, all I could do was watch as he sprang from the fire escape to the edge of the roof two stories higher—something ten times more amazing than what I'd accomplished earlier.
Another man, deeply tanned with a crescent moon tattooed on his left cheek, met Cooper at the edge and gave him a hand up.
Together, they disappeared from sight.
CHAPTER THREE
The bliss of leaving responsibility behind and thinking only of Addison was a luxury Cooper couldn't indulge in. What he'd told her was right—there was too much at stake.
He crouched down next to Marc on the flat tar surface of the roof. As he shrugged into the pack he'd
filled up at the apartment, he diligently stuffed down the temptation to do exactly what Addison wanted. The bliss of leaving responsibility behind and thinking only of her was a luxury he couldn't indulge in.
That didn't change the fact that leaving her felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.
His clan's second Beta and now his assigned bodyguard studied him in the weak moonlight, his gaze missing nothing. The dark-skinned Aussie was the best of the best and Cooper was grateful to have him watching his back. He could do without the censuring looks, though.
"What?" he finally said, his annoyance leaking into his tone.
Marc raised a brow and adjusted his own backpack so the straps didn't block access to any of the numerous weapons he always carried. At first glance, his arsenal didn't look too bad—nothing but a high-powered Glock and bush knife as long as his forearm. But beneath the surface? The moon only knew.
When the ex-para fighter had shown up earlier at Cooper's stakeout at the school, he'd known something was seriously wrong. When he'd given the emergency code for time-to-get-the-hell-out-of-there, Cooper had dropped everything and gone, only taking time to text Addison a warning.
Clan always came first. It had to. That didn't make jumping out of her life any easier.
"How'd she take it?" Marc rumbled.
"No problem."
"You didn't tell her," he stated.
"There wasn't time."
"With all due respect, sir, she deserves to know. It could put her at risk."
"I know that," Cooper snapped, immediately feeling stupid for losing control.
Above the crescent moon tattooed on his cheek, the Were Panther's dark eyes glittered in the ambient city light as his constantly diligent gaze swept over the rooftops around them. "It's getting worse."
"You have no idea," Cooper gritted out. It wasn't Marc's fault. It wasn't anyone's fault except maybe his. If he'd known a simple attraction would cause—
He couldn't think about that now. He had to focus. He was overreacting. He was misreading the feelings pounding in his blood making him crazy. Bondings were never one-sided. This would pass. It was impossible for it to last.
He got to his feet and Marc did the same, thankfully keeping his own counsel. Any word against Addison was likely to set him off, and he didn't have time for that kind of weakness.
Without warning, the back of his neck tingled and a scent like rancid meat touched his senses and was gone. He and Marc dove for the roof.
A whisper of sound and then a bullet hummed over his head, exploding in the gravel in front of him. Cooper rolled to one side and Marc to the other and they came up running.
Another shot, another heartbeat, and they'd cleared the building and disappeared over the edge.
He hoped the bastard followed them.
* * *
The shot hit the roof of the building across from the apartment and anger surged through me. At this rate I might as well strap the Browning to my palm and be done with it.
Drawing my weapon, I armed it with a green liquid-filled vial and climbed silently out of the window. As quietly as I could, I hoisted myself onto the railing of the fire escape platform outside my window and grabbed the top of the window frame with my free hand. Using the slats of the shutters on either side of the window as toe holds, I leveraged myself up until I could just see across the top of the roof.
Bingo.
Carefully shifting my weight to press my stomach tightly against the side of the building, I stretched my arms onto the roof to steady my shot and gripped the gun in both hands. I focused my attention on the crouched figure intently scanning the surrounding rooftops.
Slowly, I squeezed down on the trigger and fired.
The shadowed figure flinched and spun toward me, fangs extending as his face contorted. He made a leap toward me and crumpled to the roof. I holstered my gun and heaved myself up. Strolling over to the prone figure, I pushed him onto his back with the toe of my boot.
I unclipped one of the PRCs from the back of my belt and locked it around the guy's neck. Immediately, his features smoothed out into the average looking face of a guy with brown hair and no distinguishing marks or characteristics whatsoever. A face that could blend in with any crowd. A face that was easily forgotten. An assassin's face.
Aiming my iC at him, I snapped a picture and then dialed a number. "Your assassin missed," I said when the voicemail of the private line picked up. "My next shot kills him." I pressed send on the picture and disconnected.
Crouching down next to the unconscious vampire, I struggled with the dark and dangerous fire burning in my gut. I wanted to kill Bellmonte. He'd tried to hurt Cooper.
My iC buzzed in my hand. I activated it and put it to my ear. "You're losing your touch, Regent. No Cooper, no leverage," I said.
"On the inside of his right wrist, what mark does he wear?" he asked.
The note of concern in Bellmonte's voice surprised me enough that I checked the assassin's wrist. "Triangle with a circle in it. Doesn't look a thing like you." Dead silence greeted this announcement and I wondered if the esteemed Sir Pisshead had dropped his phone. "Hello?"
"He is not mine."
I was surprised from my justified miff to hear actual concern in the vampire's voice.
The assassin stirred and I backed up a few steps. His eyes opened, reflecting transitory confusion. I saw the moment when a flash of panic went through them as he realized he'd been collared.
"It seems that we have another player on the field," Bellmonte continued over the phone.
I aimed my gun at the collared vamp. His gaze met mine and he bit down hard on his back teeth. Bright red blood seeped onto his lips and he gagged. I shot to my feet, jumping back as his body gave a violent spasm. A second later, he was dead.
"Well, that sucks."
"Indeed. Before he regains consciousness, find a way to keep his mouth in the open position," Bellmonte said.
Thick, black coagulated fluid seeped out of the dead vamp's mouth and ears as his head lolled to the side. I took another step back. Gross.
"Too late," I said.
I could almost feel the heat of Bellmonte's frustration through the phone. Normally that would make me a happy girl. Looking at the dead vamp, I had a feeling that what had just happened was not going to do the cause of justice any services.
"Leverage incapable of pain is quite inconvenient," Bellmonte said in a tight voice.
"He bit down on something before I could stop him."
"Certainly he did. The dedication and skill of our assassins are beyond reproach. It was your job to prevent such a thing."
I stepped up to the body and nudged it with my foot. "Whatever he took worked fast. What was it?"
"Information of that nature in your hands? I shudder to think." He paused and then released a long-suffering sigh. "It is now urgent for you to identify the criminal behind this organization."
I squatted down and disengaged my PRC from the corpse's neck. "You seem to be under the illusion that I'm one of your fawning acolytes, Bellmonte." I hooked the collar to the back of my belt. "Do your own dirty work."
"The fact that the individual behind this attack wants your lover dead is not adequate motivation?"
"Another vamp's plugger encroached on your territory. Hasn't that pushed me off your list of entertainments?"
"Get me the name, Ms. Kittner. I assure you I also have no difficulty killing innocent men."
"He's a big boy. He can take care of himself." And I meant it.
"He is not the only creature you care about."
My heart jumped into my throat as he disconnected. I stared at the phone. He wouldn't. No one could be that brutal.
I remembered Wizard's trusting green eyes gazing up into mine that morning as she purred next to me on the couch. I felt a little sick. My scorn for Bellmonte hardened, reminding me of how much I hated monsters.
Cooper could take care of himself. Others I loved could not. I had to focus on
them right now. I had to keep them safe.
* * *
Thin early morning light dressed the city with the fresh hope of a new day as I watched a hoverbus glide past on the street outside Falcon's shop. The side of the bus was decorated with a poster announcing a new terminal coming soon at the edge of the city. The picture of the smiling, sharp-featured, middle-aged man responsible for this wonder, Jacob Laswell, seemed to watch me with hard eyes. I pulled deeper into the shadows of the recessed door to a shop. I felt stupid for thinking he could actually see me. On the other hand, with practitioners, you could never tell.
My friend's place of business, Magical Gadgets and Bits, looked like the freakish result of an illicit affair between an antique store and a new age shop. Elaborate grates covered the glass front, the metal designs a complex weaving of mystical symbols both common and uncommon. A sign across the door warned patrons not to stare at the barrier too long unless they wanted a blistering headache for their trouble.
Behind me, close to the wall, my cat carrier rocked and rustled as the only family I had tried to get into a more comfortable position. Wizard gave a huff of annoyance at the confinement and then settled down.
"It's for your own good," I whispered to the fluffy tabby. "She'll spoil you rotten. You'll love it."
Across the street and to the left, Ms. Fairview, a slender middle-aged woman with short grey hair, relaxed outside a small coffee shop. She sipped from a ceramic mug like she didn't have a care in the world while she watched the sparse clientele come and go. Once Bellmonte's secretary, now Cooper's assistant, I'd only seen her flustered once.
Today, like most days, she looked neat and orderly in a classic tweed skirt and conservative cream-colored blouse. Whether it was testifying in court or enjoying a society tea, Ms. Fairview looked ready for anything. I happened to know that she was also a crack shot.
Two stores down, a man with a newspaper leaned against a lamp post. Half a block up, another man pretended to admire a display of second-hand kitchenware in the window of a pawn shop. They oozed FBI agents trying to blend in. Great.
