by Dannika Dark
“You’re asking us to deliver a few boxes?” I folded my arms. “Aren’t Christian and I the killers on staff? Seems like we should be given the dangerous assignments.”
Viktor wagged his finger at us. “No assignment is too small. Everything we do comes with risk. Many would kill to get their hands on these weapons and sell them on the black market. If that happens, every innocent life lost is blood on our hands. Christian, I want you to load the boxes into the van. Do not discuss your mission during your drive. Keep the conversation to a minimum. Talk about wine and travel.”
I chortled and looked at Christian. “Like our memorable trip to Washington?”
Christian winked at me but didn’t comment on the infamous spoon fiasco that left one man dead and a house torched. He turned the onyx ring on his finger. “At what hour is he expecting us?”
Viktor tossed Christian the keys. “He does not know you’re coming. It is never good to have a routine with jobs such as these. When you are near his home, send me a message and I will alert him that you are en route. Is this a problem?”
“No sweat,” I said, nonplussed as to why Viktor would hand us such a straightforward assignment.
“Says the adrenaline junkie,” Christian quipped.
“Maybe you should just stay home. Go bite a few holes in the water hose with your fangs and make a sprinkler for Hunter to play in. I got this.”
“With your atrocious driving, I’d be surprised if you made it there in one piece. Or would you rather I drive so you can strap yourself to the roof while we hit the freeway?”
Viktor ambled to the door and gripped the knob. Before opening it, he glanced over his shoulder at us. “Some days I cannot tell if it’s hate or love between you two.”
Christian flashed him a wicked smile. “That’s what makes it interesting. I can’t tell either.”
I watched Christian adjust the passenger seat after he climbed inside the van. “Everything loaded?”
“Aye. All five boxes. That’s a shiteload of weapons.”
Once we hit the main road, I accelerated past the speed limit until we entered the edge of the city. “Why is Viktor giving us such a boring assignment? Aren’t we supposed to be the hired assassins on the team?”
“You seem vexed that you can’t always be putting a knife in someone.”
“He’s made it clear that Wyatt and Gem are intelligence and Claude and Blue are the trackers. Shepherd and Niko are not only healers but also backup. That means you and I are the killers who do all the dangerous shit. And yet here we are, driving a delivery van.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that this is the dangerous job?”
“Come on. Viktor’s gotta be getting some juicy offers after what we did for the higher authority during the blackout. He’s holding out on us. We’ve had one big case since, and that one was too easy to solve. The Vamp was practically sucking on people in front of 7-Eleven. This is child’s play.”
“I once knew a lad who washed windows for a living. Great view, fresh air, privacy—a man couldn’t ask for an easier task. Until the harness breaks and you plummet thirty stories to your death. Never underestimate the perils of a simple job.”
“Brushing a shark’s teeth is inherently dangerous. Washing windows has enough security measures in place that the chances of falling are slim.”
“Are you afflicted in some way?” Christian rested his arm on the door. “They don’t have men who brush sharks’ teeth. If so, I’d be the first in line to watch that.”
We hit a bump, and Christian reflexively threw his arm in front of me.
“You should wear a seat belt,” he grumbled, retracting his arm.
“I thought you were just trying to feel me up.”
“Speaking of that, it didn’t occur to you to put on a brassiere? You can’t just walk around the city, flashing your knockers to every man with a set of eyes.”
“You mean a bra? I hate to break the news, but you’re living in the twenty-first century. It’s a woman’s prerogative to dress how she wants.”
When I abruptly hit the brakes, his arm flew out again. I barked out a laugh at his chivalrous gesture. Not bad… for a Vamp.
“Jaysus wept. Will you keep your foot on the gas? I don’t feel like plucking a box full of knives out of my back.”
“Are you a red or a white wine kind of guy?” I turned a corner and smiled at him so he understood why the sudden change in topic. “You’re pretty quick on the reflexes, Poe.”
“I get my practice around you.”
When I reached a stoplight, I decided to buckle up. My truck didn’t have a shoulder belt, so I’d gotten used to disregarding the safety rules of the road.
Christian tilted the visor and adjusted his sunglasses. “How’s your da?”
“You should come with me on my visits. I don’t know why you’re so scared of him.”
“Don’t be daft. I’m a Vampire near three times his age. The man hardly puts a fright into me.”
I chortled. “You sure about that?”
He glanced out the window. “I’ve not had the time, and you know it.”
“What does Viktor have you doing that’s so secretive?”
“I have special skills.”
I flicked a glance down at his crotch. “I’ll say.”
“Keep on with that, lass, and I’ll have you pull the van over so I can flatten you in the back.”
“Why can’t you tell me what you’re working on?” I pressed, steering him away from the sex talk.
Christian stretched out his arms. “Afraid not. We both have given Viktor our loyalty. Your magical fanny isn’t enough to tempt me out of a job.”
I recognized the confidential nature of our relationship with Viktor, but where was Christian disappearing to for days at a time? He wasn’t just my lover—he was my partner. I wanted to be included in his work, but Viktor always had a plan for everything. Solo assignments were a necessity, so I just had to accept it.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. “Does this light seem extremely long, or is it just me?”
He twisted in his seat and scanned the sidewalk. Car horns impatiently honked, and a few vehicles up ahead were entering the intersection despite the cross traffic moving through. The lights weren’t blinking red as they often did when there was an issue.
“I don’t like the looks of this,” Christian said under his breath.
“I know what you mean.” I studied the side mirror, the traffic backed up behind us.
Christian leaned toward me and pointed up ahead. “What’s that shitebag doing?”
“Who?”
“The one standing with his hand on the light pole. If he wanted to cross, he could have done it already. But he’s just standing there. Can you feel anything?”
“I’m not sure.” I rolled down my window and leaned my head out. The hair on my arm tickled, but it was hard to tell if it was from the wind or a current of energy. “There are too many people around us—too much energy bouncing around from all the road rage.”
“Jump the curb,” he commanded. “Do it.”
I hit the gas, turned the wheel, and sent a metal trash can flying into the street. The wide sidewalk made it easy to maneuver around the newspaper stand and pedestrians. I slowed before reaching the corner. The cars turning right were at a standstill, unwilling to turn since traffic was no better in that direction either. We had a gap in front of us with a clear view of the buildings ahead.
“Floor it,” he said.
“What about all that?” I gestured to the café up ahead. Empty chairs surrounded small round tables just outside the door.
He rolled down his window. “Hurry up!”
Sensing something was about to go down, I switched from “good citizen” mode to “crazy mercenary behind the wheel of a death machine” and ripped through the café. Tables went flying, and one chair caught beneath the van and dragged until the undercarriage spit it out. Cars were honking, but I didn’t give a damn
.
Pedestrians scattered like mice in a field, diving inside banks and jewelry stores. I spotted a break in traffic at the intersection ahead and held down the horn. Two wrecked cars had freed up the street heading east, so I jerked the wheel right and sailed onto the street.
When I checked my side mirror, I noticed a flashy red car tailing us. Christian must have heard or seen something to make him panic.
“What now?”
The wind from the open window blew back his hair. “Keep driving.”
“I can’t outrun a Corvette,” I informed him.
“Cut through the park!”
“Shit. We’re gonna get arrested.” The van flew over the sidewalk with a bang and landed on the grass. “Just so you know, the local news just loves car chases. They even have police helicopters with that infrared technology.”
All the weapons in the back were rattling around as we sped through the park. I glanced at Christian, who was on his phone.
“Wyatt, I need you to ring your contact with the police. The emergency department. Tell him to ignore any calls involving a red car and a black van on a citywide chase. … One more word and I’ll drain you. Just do it.”
I nearly struck a man reading a newspaper on a park bench before jerking the wheel to the right. We went careening toward a pond, ducks flapping out of the way in a frenzied panic. I quickly turned before we ended up submerged in water.
Christian glanced in the back of the van. The boxes were making a racket, but nothing had spilled open. “Take a right,” he said tersely, referring to the road up ahead.
“No.”
“Shut your gob and do as I say.”
“That goes right to the Bricks. Do you want to add a new level of fuckery to this situation?”
“Well, you can’t go left. The coppers are down that way.”
I couldn’t go straight either. That was nothing but a long row of buildings.
Or could I?
“Let’s have some fun,” I said in a singsong voice.
I scanned the street left and right before plowing straight ahead and snapping the wooden gate of an indoor parking garage. The tires squealed on the smooth surface as I sped up a ramp and turned left, following the arrows painted on the ground.
Level one.
Level two.
Level three.
The Corvette stayed on our ass as we ascended the garage.
Christian wiped his pants as if there were something on them, a sure sign he was irritated. “You’re gonna trap us at the top with no escape.”
“I work best under pressure.”
The car engine behind us throttled, and I weaved, afraid he might try to jump ahead and block me.
I leaned into a turn. “Any other cars back there?”
Christian gripped the door. “Just the one.”
When I reached level eight, we sailed onto the roof.
“What’s your plan, Miss Black?”
I parked the van at the far side and left the keys swinging in the ignition. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have special talents when it comes to baiting men.”
“Aye, that you do.”
Christian and I hopped out at the same time to face the car speeding up behind us. The sticker on the windshield was a Breed mark, one I often saw on the doors and windows of Breed establishments. Rarely had I seen them on someone’s car, but the driver’s ego didn’t surprise me.
I sauntered up, Christian by my side.
Two men slowly got out and gave each other a furtive glance. The husky passenger had on long red shorts, and the driver looked as yuppie as they come in his polo shirt and loafers. All he needed to complete the ensemble was a pink sweater tied over his shoulders.
He ran a hand over his gelled hair and tossed his sunglasses into the car.
Christian and I knew better than to underestimate anyone, but this guy didn’t strike me as a hardcore thug.
“What’s in the van?” the yuppie asked.
Christian tucked his sunglasses in the collar of his tank top. “Your mother with her legs spread wide.”
Red Shorts turned his baseball hat backward and put his hands on his hips. “Something’s in the back,” he said to his friend. “I’m tellin’ you.”
I smothered a laugh. “You don’t even know what you’re chasing after?”
Red Shorts turned to his friend and said something under his breath.
“He thinks we have something worth a lot of money,” Christian relayed to me quietly. “He’s just got a funny feeling about it.”
“I call bullshit. Our van isn’t marked.”
The yuppie gave his friend a look and jerked his head toward their car. Red Shorts walked back to the window and reached inside. When he stood up again, there was impalement wood in one hand and a knife—one I could only presume was a stunner—in the other. He held them both out to his friend as if he were offering him a choice between candy bars. Yuppie contemplated for a moment before choosing the blade.
These guys actually thought we played by the rules.
I checked to make sure my shoelaces were tied. “This is your last warning to get lost.”
“Afraid to fight a real man?” the yuppie said, taunting me. “I can feel your energy leaking all over the place, Mage.”
Annoyed, I leveled down and sharpened my light.
He laughed haughtily. “Show me some of those girlie moves.”
I shot a look at Christian. “Let’s have some fun.”
Instead of going after the yuppie asshole with the stunner, I flashed toward Red Shorts. His arm swung down, and the impalement stake narrowly missed me. I clutched his trachea and threw him off-balance. When we hit the ground with a thud, the air knocked out of his lungs. I scrambled to my feet before he had a chance to recover. The buildings next to us were lower, offering us plenty of privacy.
Christian attempted to fight the other man, but the yuppie was a Mage and flashing all over the place. I heard his blade hit the concrete.
“Get over here, you blundering eejit!”
“Get on his car!” I shouted.
Certain that Red Shorts wasn’t a Mage, I stepped closer to blast him with energy. His arm swung toward me, and pain lanced through my leg when the stake grazed my calf.
I picked the wrong day to wear shorts.
I released enough volts to singe the hair off his chest. After he quit convulsing and foaming at the mouth, he lay still—conscious but not lucid.
Incensed by the cut on my leg, I ripped off his red shorts and underwear and flung them over the edge of the building. Then I marched over to their flashy red car. While Christian taunted the Mage by denting the roof, I searched the ground for the stunner, but it was nowhere in sight.
So I pulled the keys out of the ignition.
“You win! Get off my car,” the man pleaded. “I just bought it.”
“Did you now? It’s a real dandy.” Christian put his hands on his hips and flashed him a wicked grin. “How did an insipid little man with no socks and bad hair manage to get his hands on a classic beauty such as this?”
“My Creator bought it for me.”
“Ah. Daddy’s little boy.”
I tossed the keys in the air and caught them with my hand. “Why did you follow us?”
Panicked, he looked at me and held up his hands. “My friend. It was all his fault. He had this harebrained idea that you were hiding something valuable inside. I thought it would be an easy robbery. I didn’t know you were Breed.”
“Taking advantage of helpless humans?” Christian asked. “Tsk-tsk.” He hopped from the roof to the hood of the car, leaving a solid dent.
The man cringed. “Come on, man. I didn’t plan to hurt anyone. I just wanted to see what was in the back.”
“Is your friend psychic?” I tossed Christian the keys.
Something shifted in his expression, and like a bullet, he flashed toward the front of our van. I chased after him and grabbed his shirt. It ripped at the collar, and
a struggle ensued as he tried to climb into the driver’s seat. Before he could do something stupid, I reached beneath the steering column and pulled the keys from the ignition.
Afraid the man would drive away with the van, I flung the keys as hard as I could over the edge of the building. Instead of fighting me, he got inside.
“Christian, he’s climbing into the back!”
I couldn’t get a firm grip to pull him out, and he slipped through my fingers. I went after him. The last thing I needed was this idiot getting into a box full of weapons.
I tackled him, and we fell over the boxes. As we scuffled, I kept waiting for the rear doors to burst open, but they never did.
The yuppie crawled away and knocked me off with his legs, but he lost his shoe when I grabbed his foot. My fangs punched out, but the only target within reach was his ass, and that was a road I wasn’t about to go down.
Frustrated, I punched through the box beneath me. The tape pried away from the cardboard, leaving an opening between the flaps. I slipped my hand inside and felt around for something—anything—before the Mage could escape through the rear doors. When my fingers touched what felt like a blade, I pulled it out and impaled him in the butt cheek.
A groan rattled his lungs, and his body went limp.
Out of breath, I took a minute to savor the victory.
Christian slowly clapped from the front seat. “Now that was the finishing touch.”
I sat up and realized I’d stabbed the man with a crucifix infused with magic.
“Great,” I muttered. After scooting onto a bench, I glared at Christian in the driver’s seat. “You’re a real fanghole, you know that? Why didn’t you help?”
He arched his eyebrow. “Since when do you need rescuing? Besides, you were handling things quite well. I enjoy a good performance, especially when I get to admire your arse in those shorts.”
