by Keri Arthur
He studied the picture for a moment, then shook his head. “But it’s not really surprising they’d be holding stolen IDs. Most vamps who take a commission don’t carry anything that could accurately identify them.”
“What makes you think the attack was a commission?” I opened the second wallet and discovered another credit card and driver’s license bearing different names, although this time both were female.
Rory shook his head again when I showed it to him. “It’s just a feeling I got. They weren’t moving as a team, but rather separate entities. It was almost as if they were racing each other to get the kill.” He hesitated, then half laughed, although it was a sound that held little in the way of amusement. “That haste was probably the only thing that saved me.”
“You heard them coming?”
“Not initially. But one of them disengaged the safety as he was coming at me rather than doing it outside. It was only a soft click, but it was so out of place that it was enough to wake me.”
I frowned. “If they had guns, why didn’t they just shoot the shit out of the cabin? They would have known your position by the sound of your heartbeat.”
“Aside from the fact it would have woken the entire neighborhood, you mean?”
I half smiled. “Yes.”
He shrugged. “Good question, and one I can’t possibly answer given the state of both the cabin and my five attackers.” He disentangled his fingers from mine. “If I drain any more of your strength, you’re going to be as weak as me.”
In any other circumstance, I would have protested. But he was right; the simple fact was my reserves were already riding too low.
“We need to find somewhere else for you to recover in safety.”
“If they found this place, they’re bound to find any other location we decide on.”
“Not necessarily,” Jackson said as he walked over and then squatted down in front of us. “Tell me, just how the hell did you, of all people, get burned?”
A smile ghosted Rory’s lips. “I forgot about the gas bottles on the side of the cabin when I incinerated the place. Their explosion sent me tumbling, and it tore me from spirit to flesh form.”
“But even then, the fire shouldn’t have affected you,” Jackson said.
“There were witnesses by that stage. I did stop the fire burning too deeply, but I could hardly walk out of a firestorm completely untouched—not without raising all sorts of suspicions.”
Jackson grunted and glanced at me. “The cops told me there’s no unaccounted car in the area. The vamps must have been dropped off.”
“Which means they’ll probably have a pickup arranged.”
He nodded. “I told the cop we’d position ourselves up near the main road and nab anyone who comes down here.”
“Did you now?”
He ignored the sarcasm in my voice. “And I also have a solution to the accommodation issue.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “You’ve volunteered the home of one of the ladies from your harem.”
“Well, no, because I really don’t want to put any more of them in any sort of danger. I was thinking more along the lines of Adán.”
Adán being the second earth fae who’d helped create the trench around Brooklyn. “Really? Why?”
“Because he not only lives in Thornton, which is only about fifty minutes from here, but his home is something of a fortress.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Fifty minutes adds a whole lot to our traveling time when we’re in the city.”
“But you don’t have to come back to me every night, Em,” Rory said. “I may still be weak, but as long as I’ve got fire, I’ll be all right for a couple of days.”
“I don’t know—”
“The real problem,” Rory said, cutting me off with a gentle squeeze of my arm, “is that if they found this place, they’re more than likely to find others. And I’d hate to put Adán in any sort of danger.”
Jackson snorted. “Adán’s an earth fae. Trust me, those buggers don’t scare easily, and they certainly don’t die easily. He’ll jump at the opportunity for some action.”
I did believe him, because he’d already done just that when we’d called both him and Dmitri to help us in Brooklyn. “Maybe what we need is a little subterfuge.”
“Like what?” Jackson asked.
“Well, there’re only two ways those vamps could have found this place. Either they were tracking us—”
“We checked the cars regularly. We weren’t bugged,” Jackson said.
“There’s more than one way to track,” Rory said. “Winged shifters, for instance.”
“PIT were certainly using hawk shifters to tail us,” Jackson said. “But I was under the impression they’d stopped.”
I snorted. “Just because the inspector implied that doesn’t mean she actually did it.”
I liked the woman, but she was in the middle of a battle she couldn’t afford to lose, and there was no doubt in my mind she’d do whatever she deemed necessary to twist the odds in her favor. If that included following two people who were knee-deep in the same shit, then she’d do so.
“And if we weren’t followed,” I continued, “then the only other way they could have found us is if they were told.”
Rory frowned. “Did you tell anyone we were here?”
“No.”
Jackson held up his hands. “Don’t look at me.”
“Which means they either had psychic help or PIT did indeed track us here, and the squad does indeed have a mole.”
“There’s an easy way to get an answer to one of those questions.” Jackson pulled out his phone and hit the DIAL button, then held the phone between the three of us so we could all hear.
“Chief Inspector,” he said the minute she answered, “I have a rather urgent question for you.”
“Indeed? Please proceed.”
“Have you set a hawk on our tail?”
She paused. “And if I have?”
“You need to call him off.”
“Only if you start carrying your phone so we know your location. It’s imperative that we keep track of all operatives right now—”
“Inspector,” I cut in, “we’re not operatives. We’re associates, and your tracking us almost led to the death of a friend.”
“Would this friend be Rory Jones, the man nobody witnessed coming out of Brooklyn?”
I hesitated. “The same.”
“Care to explain how he got out?”
“No—and that’s not important right now,” I said. “Are you, or are you not, having us tailed?”
“I am.”
“Then you need to call them off. Someone betrayed our position, Inspector.”
“There is no leak or mole in my department, Pearson.” Her tone was frosty. “If your hideout was blown, then it was not due to anything we did.”
“No one knew where we were, Inspector. There were no bugs on our cars, and we dumped Jackson’s phone long before we got to our current location.”
“The sindicati are not averse to using winged shifters to follow targets,” the inspector said.
“Yes, but we would have noticed two birds following us. And undoubtedly your hawk would also have noticed another tag.” I hesitated. “Besides, we have a truce with Parella. He wouldn’t be following us.”
Not by air, at any rate, Jackson said. Not if the past efforts are anything to go by.
“If you believe that,” the inspector said, “then you are both fools.”
Maybe we were. Maybe it was the sindicati behind all this, given it was vampires who attacked Rory. But that little voice inside me, the one that dreamed of death and was very rarely wrong, suggested PIT was somehow connected. It wasn’t behind the actual attack, of that I had no doubt, but the information about our location had certainly come from the organization. Someh
ow.
“Inspector,” Jackson said, “if you can guarantee, with one hundred percent certainty, that PIT is secure and has no leaks, then I’ll keep my phone and even tell you where we’ll be staying. But call off the hawks, because the next time we spot one following us, we’ll fry it.”
“I would advise against doing that. I really don’t appreciate my people coming under friendly fire.” Her voice was flat. “Where are you staying?”
“I’ll tell you that when we decide where to go next. Thanks, Inspector.” With that, he hung up. “There’s only one way we’re going to prove whether PIT has a leak, and that’s by exposing it.”
“That could get dangerous,” Rory said.
“Not if we’re sneaky about it.”
A smile touched Rory’s lips. “I didn’t think sneaky was in a fire fae’s vocabulary.”
“We generally do prefer to be up-front about things, but hey, needs must, and all that.” Jackson plucked one of the wallets from my hand. “And I’m thinking these could provide access to sneakiness.”
I smiled. “So we book two rooms at a hotel, using the stolen credit cards for the second one, then leave your phone in one and keep watch from the other?”
“It’s almost as if you read my mind.” His grin flashed. “Then we give the inspector the address, and see what happens.”
“And if nothing does, it might at least mean PIT is secure.”
“Exactly. But it may take a few days for someone to bite, so we’ll have to be careful about coming and going.”
“It’s also probably best if I visit Rory alone.”
“Agreed.” Jackson rose. “I’ll go see if Cobden is happy to release Rory, then make calls to both Parella and Adán. Then we can head up to the main road to keep an eye on things while we wait for Adán to arrive.”
“I really doubt anyone will be back to retrieve the vampires. They must know something has gone wrong by now.”
“Oh, I agree, but we’ve got nothing to lose.” Jackson shrugged, then spun around and walked away.
I glanced at Rory. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? You’re still on the wire when it comes to strength.”
“So are you.” He brushed his fingertips down my cheek. “I’ll be okay. Just don’t get yourself killed when there’s such a distance between us, because that might be problematic.”
“Trust me, I’m doing my best to avoid getting dead.”
“Good.” He hesitated. “What happened in Brooklyn?”
I gave him a quick update on everything. Rory frowned. “If he is using magic to hide his location, why haven’t the witches discovered it? Surely using that much power would have caused some ripples in the earth’s energy fields?”
“So I would have thought. But maybe he’s not using much. Maybe the spell is just big enough to conceal Rinaldo’s presence and nothing else.”
“Which would suggest he hasn’t a den of his own. At least not yet.” Rory paused. “It could also mean he’s using the Coalition to hire people. If that’s true, then maybe tonight’s attack came from him.”
The Coalition’s full name was the Coalition of Nonhumans. It was an independent resource center that provided financial and legal help to both vampires and werewolves, and it was mostly funded by member contributions. The CNH tended to be low-key, not only because of the rise of anti-werewolf and -vampire sentiment in recent years but also because it had a smaller, less-known—but very profitable—side department. This department basically handled nonhuman business activities that were not only more than a little illegal, but which required anonymity—things like kidnapping and killing. It had no official phone number and couldn’t be reached via the CNH’s switchboard; if you wanted something done, or if you wanted to contact someone you might have dealt with previously, the only way to do so was via snail mail.
Which was what we’d done a few days ago. We’d sent a letter requesting a meet with Lee Rawlings, the Coalition bagman who’d been sent to collect me the first time I’d been kidnapped. We’d been hoping that he’d be able to tell us more about the state of play between the sindicati factions and maybe even Luke, but we’d since uncovered a lot of that information ourselves. It’d still be handy to talk to him, though, if only because he might have some information about Rinaldo. The bastard might be off radar, but surely someone, somewhere, had to know something about him.
“It’s possible, but I don’t see why Rinaldo would go to such lengths,” I said. Besides, Radcliffe had said the vamps who’d attacked his venues weren’t mercenaries. If they’d come from the Coalition, they would have been.
“Remember, you’re talking about a very old vampire. In his mind, I’m probably nothing more than an incomplete lesson. Until I stay taken out, said lesson would have little impact.”
I could totally see Rinaldo thinking that way—especially given what he’d done to Shona and the wolves. “Which means if he does discover your new location, you and Adán will come under attack.”
“From the little I’ve seen of Adán, I wish them luck trying.” Rory patted my leg. “Stop worrying, and help me up.”
I did so. Thankfully, he was a little more secure on his feet this time, but I still hovered close as we made our way over to where Jackson stood talking to Cobden.
“You’re free to go,” he said. “Just remain reachable, in case we have any further questions.”
“My phone has been destroyed,” Rory said, “but you can get hold of me via either Emberly’s work number or Jackson’s.”
Cobden nodded and stepped away. We walked back to the car, then drove it along the old road and pulled into the trees just off the main road.
“Any success with Parella?” I asked Jackson.
“He denies the use of winged shifters to tag us, and he didn’t order the hit. He didn’t, however, rule out the possibility of that happening in the future if we didn’t start relaying more information.”
“Hard to relay what we haven’t got.” And the stuff we did have we certainly didn’t want in their hands.
“I did say that. He didn’t believe we don’t have the information.”
“And Adán?” I asked.
“Reckons he’ll be here by four,” Jackson said. “I’ll keep an eye on things if you two want to nap.”
I didn’t argue. I just settled more comfortably into the seat and went straight to sleep. The slamming of a car door jerked me awake. I sat upright too quickly and just about strangled myself on the seat belt as it snapped taut. I swore, released the thing, then scrubbed the sleep from my eyes and peered through the somewhat foggy windshield.
Jackson was greeting another man who would have been an almost identical replica of Dmitri if not for the shape of his face and nose, both of which were broader.
“Rory,” I said, “Adán’s here.”
I climbed out of the car without waiting for a response, crossing my arms and shivering a little as the chilly night air hit like a slap across the face.
A grin split Adán’s lips when he spotted me, and his eyes—a warm chocolate color—gleamed with pleasure. And, I suspected, more than a little desire. But then, he was fae.
“It’s a real pleasure to see you again.” He caught my hand, tugged me closer, and kissed both my cheeks. “I do so hope having Rory stay at my place means you will come visit me.”
“If you’re cooking, I’ll be there.”
“Excellent.” His gaze moved past me. “That’s a rather becoming outfit you’re wearing there, Rory.”
“Oversized and ill-fitting are the next new trend.” His tone was dry. “I appreciate your taking me in on short notice like this.”
Adán’s grin widened. “Although Jackson assures me there shouldn’t be any problems, I’m always up for a good fight. You ready?”
Rory nodded, then gave me a wink and followed Adán across to his Land Rov
er. Once they were gone, I said, “We need to find somewhere to rest, but I doubt there’ll be many hotels open at this hour. Not in this area, anyway.”
“No.” Jackson scrubbed a hand through his hair. For the first time since I’d known him, he actually looked tired. “Why don’t we just head back to the office? We need to make arrangements for Rinaldo to pick up the laptops, and we have to be there to meet Radcliffe at ten, anyway.”
I frowned. “That’s an hour-and-a-half drive—I’m not sure either of us can do it.”
“Well, it’s either that or we sleep in the SUV.”
“Let’s do the drive.” The Range Rover was a comfortable beast, but nothing could beat a real bed.
It was a long drive back to Melbourne, but our wakefulness was boosted by several coffee stops along the way. The office remained as we’d last left it and was as cold as hell, but I didn’t care. I stripped as I headed up the circular staircase, and all but fell onto the mattress. Jackson had stopped downstairs to make the call to Rinaldo, and I have no memory of him joining me in the bed. I was already asleep by that time.
A harsh rapping woke me some hours later. I sat upright, my heart hammering, for an instant confused as to where I was. The sun was shining in through the big window to my right, highlighting the mess that surrounded us—a mess caused by vamps searching both the office and this upper living area.
The rapping echoed again, and I scrubbed a hand across my eyes and glared, somewhat blearily, at the clock. Ten o’clock.
Oh fuck.
“Jackson, get up.” I scrambled out of the bed. “The rats are here.”
“Too early,” he mumbled. “Come back to bed.”
I tossed his jeans at his face. “It’s ten. Is the file still behind the coffee machine?”
“Yes.” He swung out of bed and began climbing into his jeans. “You get the door. I’ll get the file and remove the appropriate bits.”
As we clattered down the stairs, someone leaned on the doorbell and let it ring long and loud. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” I shouted back, doing up my shirt as I walked—albeit slowly—over to the door.
I took my time undoing the bolts but left the chain on as I opened the door a fraction and peered out.
