Mission_Improper

by Bec McMaster

  this Ulbricht scheme in its tracks." Byrnes shoved

  to his feet, his mind racing. "Keep an eye on Ingrid

  for me? There's a few things I need to see to."

  INGRID BLINKED SLEEPY EYES, smelling a

  familiar perfume. She turned, snuggling her face

  into Rosa's wrist, where their hands lay

  interlocked. "Rosa. What are you doing here?"

  Rosa went to her knees on the floor beside

  her bed, those serious dark eyes on a level with

  her own, as she rested her chin on her free hand.

  "Checking to see if my closest friend is all right."

  She blew a red curl out of her face. "Someone told

  me a rather statuesque young verwulfen woman

  blew up a bridge today."

  Ingrid smiled faintly, even as she shut her

  eyes again. "It seemed like a good idea at the

  time." There was a certain absence in the room.

  That made her look up. "Where's—"

  "Byrnes?" Rosa asked, in a dry voice.

  Their eyes met. "It's not like that," Ingrid said

  quickly.

  "Isn't it?" Rosa sighed. "He was sitting by

  your bedside when I arrived. I think he's scared of

  me. Lynch is talking to him."

  Ingrid relaxed back down into her pillow.

  Rosa settled her bottom on the edge of the

  bed. "Byrnes seems to be spending rather a lot of

  time at your side, lately."

  "We are working together."

  "Which explains why he was sitting here

  holding your hand."

  "Rosa—"

  "It's all right." Her friend smiled. "My

  concerns over Byrnes' feelings for you have been

  satisfied. He's clearly enamored."

  Ingrid snorted. Then twisted her fingers in the

  pillow, plucking at it. This time, I intend to win

  your heart... She couldn't quite explain how that

  made her feel.

  Nervous. Hopeful. Terrified.

  Rosa's eyes narrowed. "Unless he's said

  something to the contrary?"

  "No," she whispered. "He said he wants to...

  win my heart."

  Rosa's skirts rustled as she shifted. "Hmm.

  That was not said in an entirely convincing tone of

  voice. What's wrong?"

  Ingrid squeezed the bridge of her nose.

  "Nothing."

  "Is it what you want?"

  She looked up, and knew Rosa saw the panic

  in her eyes.

  "Or are you afraid?" Rosa asked gently.

  "What if something goes wrong?" she blurted.

  "What if he can't love me? What if..." She

  swallowed down the lump in her throat. "I don't

  think I could handle the rejection right now, if he

  decided he was wrong."

  "If he cannot love you, then he's a fool. You're

  entirely lovable. And what makes now any

  different to any other time?" Rosa arched a brow.

  Ingrid sighed, and reached for her coat, which

  was hanging over the chair next to the bed. She

  tugged the small worn telegram from her pocket,

  and passed it silently to her friend.

  Rosa read it. "Another dead end."

  "Perhaps the last," Ingrid admitted, in a small

  voice.

  "Only if you stop trying," Rosa replied firmly.

  "Your parents are out there somewhere, Ingrid."

  She set the telegram down, her lips thinning with

  resolve. "And as much as this dalliance bothered

  me in the beginning, I see something there that

  wasn't there before. I never used to believe that

  Byrnes had a heart, not until I saw the way he

  looked at you. I think you're worrying for no good

  reason, but I can understand, given your past, why

  you're doing so." Rosa lay down on the pillow

  beside her, and turned her head so that their faces

  were inches apart. "I want you to be happy. I want

  you to be loved. And despite the fact that Byrnes

  has his flaws—many of them—I don't think he's the

  sort of man who would toy with your feelings. He

  simply doesn't have it in him to play pretend.

  Besides, if you never take the risk, then how will

  you ever know? He could be the love of your life.

  He might give you half a dozen fat little babies. Or

  what if he's a closet romantic, and plans to shower

  you with love and affection for the rest of his days.

  Maybe he's a poet at heart?"

  Ingrid thumped her friend with her spare

  pillow. Rosa laughed, then hugged her. The pair of

  them fell into a breathy silence.

  Ingrid bit her lip. "I'm scared."

  Rosa snuggled in closer. "That's how you

  know it's real."

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  AS NIGHT FELL and the rest of the house on

  Baker Street filled with the others, Byrnes found

  himself chairing a meeting.

  "You've looked better," Byrnes told Kincaid

  as the mech slumped into a chair at the table. Dark

  circles blackened both eyes, and Kincaid's nose

  was swollen and misshapen.

  Kincaid's gaze darted to Ava, then away

  again. "She patched me up." He smiled menacingly.

  "I hear you've been blowing up bridges."

  "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

  "Aye. Wish I'd seen it." Kincaid's smile

  softened. "Bet Malloryn's having conniptions right

  about now."

  Byrnes shrugged. "I think he's got other things

  on his mind. Someone did try to kill the queen at

  his engagement party, after all."

  "Unsuccessfully,"

  Ingrid

  added.

  "Thank

  goodness. Only a minor bruise or two, according

  to Rosa."

  "So," Gemma Townsend said, lacing her arms

  across her chest. "Looks like the anarchists have

  kicked the hornet's nest. What are we going to do

  about it?"

  "Are we waiting for Malloryn?" Byrnes

  asked.

  "He's with the Council. Another emergency

  meeting. They're voting on whether to settle martial

  law over London," Gemma replied. "I doubt he'll

  be back before dawn."

  "And the Baroness Schröder?"

  "With Malloryn."

  Byrnes stared around the table, meeting all of

  their eyes. "This began with the disappearance of

  forty people at the Venetian Gardens, but it wasn't

  the first time people have disappeared. We know

  who took them now. We know their purpose in

  doing so—to strike fear into the heart of the

  average Londoner, to encourage them to rise

  against the queen. It's quite clear that London is

  under attack by these dhampir and the SOG, we

  just don't know why."

  "Or if those people are still alive," Ingrid

  admitted at his side.

  There was silence then.

  "Do you think they're feeding them to the

  vampires?" Charlie Todd asked, and his face was

  paler than usual.

  "We don't know." The thought, however, had

  crossed his mind. "What we do know is that Zero

  wants me to find her. She's the key to it. Find her,

  find the vampires—and most likely find the

  missing people."

  "And how do we do that?" Charlie demanded.<
br />
  "We know the general vicinity in which

  they're operating," Ava said, tapping the map and

  drawing a circle with her finger from Clerkenwell

  to Barbican. Someone had speared little pins into

  every sighting.

  "This is where we lost the trail when Kincaid

  and I tried to follow it from the Home." Charlie

  pushed a pin into the map.

  Byrnes frowned. "This is the rough area

  where we lost it from the Venetian Gardens."

  The two pins were within four streets of each

  other.

  He added another. "And this is where Zero

  gave Kincaid a friendly love tap before she

  decided she wants to be wooed by me."

  "Hell,"

  Charlie

  breathed.

  "They're

  somewhere in this area."

  Excitement flared. People always made

  mistakes, if you were patient. "What's in the area? I

  don't know it well."

  "Two burned-out churches," Charlie replied.

  "A couple of weaving factories, one draining

  factory, an old asylum, numerous houses. It verges

  on Whitechapel territory, so I've patrolled it, but

  not well. I think there are a couple of abandoned

  train stations below that verged into Undertown

  once upon a time, but after Blade waged war on

  the slasher gangs that hid down there, we blew

  some of the tunnels so they couldn't get through."

  "Are they all collapsed?" Byrnes asked.

  "Vampires like the dark."

  Charlie's blue eyes met his. "Could be

  pockets, or caverns. Undertown always was a

  warren. I know people started living down there

  again in some places once the slasher gangs were

  gone and they no longer had to fear for their lives.

  It's not a nice territory, Byrnes."

  "There's an old enclave here too, where they

  used to house the mechs before they freed us,"

  Kincaid pointed out, tapping the map. "Been

  closed for three years."

  "Lots of places to hide." But this was it. He

  felt it in his bones.

  "So we spread out?" Kincaid demanded. "Try

  and find a vampire?"

  "Or three," Ingrid muttered. "We don't know

  how many there are, and we also suspect there's at

  least two of the dhampir working against us,

  thanks to Gemma’s attack at the museum."

  Which sobered the entire group up.

  "How quiet does this need to be?” Charlie

  asked. “Could we use the Nighthawks for

  manpower?"

  "I'll talk to Garrett," he replied. “I think the

  cat’s out of the bag, thanks to the explosion.”

  "We need bait." This time it was Ingrid who

  spoke up.

  The room silenced as they all turned to look

  at her.

  "You're not doing this," Byrnes growled,

  shaking his head.

  "I wasn't talking about me," she said quietly.

  "This Zero is interested in you. She wants you to

  find her, Byrnes, which I think gives you the

  greatest chance to survive if you were bait. She

  doesn't want to kill you. Not yet."

  "But what if she takes him right out from

  under our noses?" Kincaid asked, crossing his huge

  arms over his chest. "She doesn't need to keep the

  rest of us alive. All she needs to do is take him,

  and then how do we bloody well find him?"

  "With Garrett and Fitz's tracking device."

  Byrnes’s voice gradually strengthened as the plan

  unrolled in his mind. "Garrett put a tracking device

  on Perry years ago, following a case in which she

  almost died." He turned to Ava. "Do you think you

  can get it off Fitz?"

  Ava nodded earnestly.

  "When?" Byrnes asked, staring at Ingrid.

  She considered the map. "Tomorrow morning.

  As soon as dawn breaks. We can't afford to do this

  in the dark, as much as I want to save those people.

  We don't have a lot of weapons against a vampire

  in the first place, but sunlight is our ally at least."

  "And we need to let Malloryn know, and

  prepare," Gemma agreed.

  Byrnes took a deep breath. "Dawn then.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  “ANY REASON WE’RE heading down this

  street?” Ingrid murmured as she strolled beside

  Byrnes.

  Midnight had come and gone, and they’d

  completed the list of tasks that they’d been given to

  prepare for dawn. The Nighthawks were ready and

  would meet them at the edge of the search area.

  Now she was tired, and wanted to snatch a few

  hours of sleep before she had to go vampire

  hunting.

  Clearly not what Byrnes had planned.

  He nodded toward the small set of rooms

  she’d leased. “I wanted to show you something.”

  “I’m fairly certain I’ve already seen it,

  Byrnes,” she drawled.

  “I’m fairly certain you haven’t. I prepared it

  the other day, when you were recovering.”

  That caught her attention. What on earth was

  he up to? “At my set of rooms?”

  “You’ll see.” Byrnes climbed the stairs to the

  front door, then leapt up and dragged himself onto

  the roof beside it, reaching down to offer her a

  hand.

  “Now you’ve caught my attention.” She let

  him help her up, and then he popped the lock on

  her window and slipped inside. “Just what are you

  up to?”

  “Mischief.”

  “Well, that’s nothing new.” Ingrid slung her

  leg over the windowsill. There was an array of

  small tools laid on a strip of leather beside the

  skirting boards. "You fixed my skirting boards?”

  "Oh, Ingrid." He pressed his ear against the

  wall, then frowned, toying with something in his

  belt. "I didn’t fixing your skirting boards. I

  promised to give you a present, something you’d

  never been given before.”

  Ingrid’s gaze shot to his. She’d been expecting

  a gift-wrapped box when she set this challenge.

  Not a roll of tools on the floor. “What is it?”

  He held out some sort of device to her. "Press

  the button."

  It was a small brass box with a dial on the

  interface. Ingrid hesitantly pushed the ON button.

  Almost instantly she felt like she wanted to itch her

  skin. There was something whining in the walls,

  almost on the edge of hearing.

  "It works somewhat like the Nighthawks’

  communicators," he explained. "A high-pitched

  frequency just enough to...." Taking the box, he

  fiddled with several knobs and the whine died

  down until it vanished, at least to her hearing.

  "Just enough to...?"

  A smile flashed over his face, that particular

  one that changed his entire aspect, like the sun

  creeping over the horizon at dawn and lighting the

  world. "It gets rid of vermin, Ingrid."

  Surprise took hold of her.

  "No more rats, Fitz assures me. They cannot

  abide the sound. He has something like this rigged

  at the gui
ld."

  Ingrid's mouth parted, and there was a

  suspicious warmth in her eyes. "You.... You...."

  Byrnes waited, but she couldn't seem to put it

  into words. Or maybe there were none needed.

  That little smile was back, toying about his lips.

  "You're welcome."

  This was a gift unlike any other, and she was

  so choked up with emotion that she couldn’t quite

  use her voice until she swallowed it all down. It

  truly was the greatest gift he could have given her.

  Except for his heart. Ingrid glanced away.

  She wasn’t going to ask for that. She didn’t dare.

  “And what reward do you want to claim for this

  challenge?”

  Byrnes frowned, looking down at the

  screwdriver he’d picked up. “It’s tempting….” He

  flipped the small screwdriver in the air, then

  caught it. “But we need to talk.” He looked up. “I

  just want an answer. That’s all, Ingrid.”

  Ingrid circled a chair, resting her hands on it

  before realizing that she’d deliberately placed a

  barrier between them. “About us?”

  “About us.”

  Ingrid scowled. “I don’t know what to think.

  One moment you want to earn kisses for

  challenges, the next thing you’re telling me this is a

  bad idea, and then all of a sudden you’re trying to

  charm me again.”

  “This has nothing to do with charm. I just

  realized what I truly want.”

  “Oh?”

  Byrnes took a step toward her. "And it wasn't

  just you in my bed."

  If he keeps up like this, I might almost start

  to believe him. "Stop saying things like that."

  "Why?" Byrnes stepped closer, hovering but

  three inches away. "It's the truth, Ingrid. And I don't

  lie. Not about the important things."

  No, he didn’t. Sometimes the truth wasn’t one

  you wanted to hear, but it was always true. "I

  thought you wanted to forget me." Her right foot

  stepped back, as if to flee, then she firmed. She

  wasn't retreating from anything, particularly him.

  Not anymore. "Burn me from your blood? Get your

  fix of me, so that then I could stop haunting you?"

  "I'm an idiot."

  "Are you trying to pretend that you didn't

  mean those words?" she scoffed, her heart starting

  to pound a little swifter in her ears. No. No, it

  couldn't be. She didn't dare believe it. "That

  you've been harboring some sort of secret tendre

  for me for the past year?"

  Byrnes tossed the screwdriver aside and it

  slapped against the wall before dropping to the

  floor. She was fairly certain that she also heard