Licensed To Thrill

by Gemma Brocato

  I accepted the card, depositing it in my bag. “I’ll ring you when I’m ready.”

  His tires crunched on the tarmac as he drove away. My guess was I’d be waking him from a nap once I finished my business.

  The private airfield was strangely deserted for this time of day. No workers hauling cargo or forklifts chugging about. Sandals in hand, I moved between the nearest two buildings catty-corner from Atlantis Cargo, where I could keep an eye on the comings and goings, unnoticed and without a glamour. Clearly, Atlantis wasn’t a thriving business. No one entered or exited the building. It looked as forlorn and empty as a Halloween shop on November first.

  I stowed my shoes in my bag, opting for a silent approach. Stiletto heels, no matter how skinny or light-footed the wearer was, tended to make noise. No reason to announce my arrival. I slipped my Walther free, checked the magazine and safety, and shoved the piece in the wide leather belt. The metal was cool on the small of my back, which I knew from experience wouldn’t grow warmer from my body heat.

  After remaining motionless for ten minutes in the shadow of the rusted Quonset huts, I headed across the lot to my target.

  5

  Mission Day 2

  Pitcairn Aeroport

  Fifty yards away from my destination, my supersensitive hearing picked up frantic whispering to the right between two more identical huts. I slowed my pace and focused on the conversation.

  A woman’s voice, urgent and frightened. “I don’t have any money.”

  “That’s not my problem,” came the gruff reply in a Russian accent. “Get out of here, pizda.”

  The tosser just called her the C U Next Tuesday word. In any language, that was offensive. Indignation on her behalf clambered up my back. My language wasn’t prissy, but even I hated using that word. Scowling, I tuned back into the rising voices.

  “I need food,” she said. “My husband died in the accident on Rapa. My children will starve.”

  The woman’s pleading tone jerked my heart, but her mention of Rapa Nui froze my feet. Shaking off the momentary paralysis, I sidestepped closer to the shadowy lane.

  “No money…no food, bitch. I know who you are. Your husband was the reason everyone in the lab died. His carelessness killed innocents.”

  “It wasn’t Tomas. It was the earthquake’s fault.”

  The crack of a palm hitting flesh, followed by a frightened squeal, made me want to charge forward and rip the man’s head from his shoulders.

  The man growled, “Enough. Get out of my sight.” Footsteps stomped my direction.

  “Wait!” came the plaintive cry. “Will you take something in trade?” The desperation in the woman’s tone infuriated me.

  I wasn’t human any longer, but that didn’t mean I’d abandoned all mortal concern. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—ever forsake the frail species. It wasn’t in my nature. And I held onto that nature with clawed fingers. The despair in her voice demonstrated her desperation, as if the very idea of what she might have to offer in trade terrified her. But she’d give all for her children. Anger churned in my belly, but I held my position.

  The stomping ceased. Sounds of a scuffle sifted out of the alleyway. Metal clanged, followed by a soft ooof and whimper.

  “You have nothing I’m interested in.”

  I risked a peek around the edge of the building. An emaciated woman pinned to the corrugated metal by a man twice her size looked at him with tears in her eyes. I heard her heart racing even at this distance. I did not like the way this was heading. Not in the least. I lowered my handbag and sandals to the ground silently, spread my feet, and braced for a fast intervention.

  Her gaze didn’t leave his face as her right hand worked the buttons on her tattered floral blouse. She lifted out her bare breast. “Not even this?”

  The Russian goon latched his hand over her breast and tightened his fingers. “Not much meat on your bones. A fuck with you might not be worth the amount of food you want.” He squatted low until his mouth was at nipple level and then clamped his teeth on her areola. With a vicious snarl, he tugged backward.

  The woman cried out in pain. The wild thumps of her beating heart sped up and jumped around. She was terrified.

  The man released his punishing grip and slapped her face. “Shut up, or I’ll take what I want and you’ll still leave empty-handed.” He tangled his meaty fist in the side of her shirt and ripped the rest of the buttons off.

  Her prayers, probably too soft for the oafish man to hear, reached my ears.

  I’d had enough.

  With a low growl, I darted into the shadowy lane. I had the asshole by the scruff of the neck before he could back away from her.

  Concentrating, I willed the fingernails on my other hand to shift into talons and dug into the wanker’s neck, piercing deep into the rolls of fat. The coppery scent of blood filled my sinuses. My fangs elongated from the scent alone.

  He clamped his hand over mine, eyes rolling in fright, and let out a string of profanities in his mother tongue, calling me a mother-effing whore-demon.

  “Yeah?” Smirking, I replied in the same language. “Well, I’m the demon-whore who’s going to end your paltry existence, you miserable sot.” My voice was feral, deep, guttural, hypnotizing.

  The bastard’s eyes widened while blood trickled down the back of my hand. Lifting him by his shirt, I retracted my claws, then used both arms to hurl him across the alley. My vampire strength allowed me to toss him at such with enough velocity that when his head connected with the sturdy steel, I heard the satisfying crunch of bones. He fell to the ground in a heap, head twisted at a vicious and deadly angle.

  Chest heaving, I felt the righteous indignation fade, leaving in its wake a smattering of remorse. I might be licensed to kill, but that didn’t mean I liked doing it.

  I crossed the narrow alley and stood above him. He deserved to be punished for the shite he was heaping on the woman. But did he deserve to die for his sins? Did any human? Worry replaced anger. I’d gone rogue yet again, although this time, my intent to save one mortal had resulted in the death of another. My soul twinged uncomfortably. Sometimes I wondered why I clung so tenaciously to my mortality. In cases like this, I’d be better off completely devoid of any feelings.

  Bending, I wiped my hand clean on his shirt. I straightened and speared my hand through my hair until I cupped the crown of my head. Sure, I’d hung on to my humanity, but at what cost? If T found out about this, I’d be suspended again. Or worse, they’d retire me from fieldwork. Send me back to the cryptography office where life was safe and bland. Not an ounce of excitement. In that department, every day was like the last, and the next would be a repeat of the same. It’s the VIS’s way of boring the humanity right out of a girl.

  But in my heart, I knew what I really faced was the final death. Vampires didn’t hold on to their humanity. Some turned vampires lost their souls immediately. They might be the lucky ones. Typically, our race relinquished all human feelings within fifty years of being turned. Without tender feelings for mortals, we became the fighting machines that allowed us to watch over humankind with no personal involvement. We fought the good fight, but if a mortal in our care was injured or killed, we had no remorse, no grief. The theory was this made us better soldiers.

  I wasn’t so sure. Why fight for something or someone we didn’t care about?

  But I’d held on. And if word of that got out, T would have to order my execution, even if she didn’t want to. Ultimately, she was a company woman. She followed orders. Usually. She’d had my back a couple of times, but recently, I’d noticed she seemed to be losing patience with me.

  A quiet keening struck up behind me. I’d saved this woman from rape and the possible starvation of her children. In the end, that was something I could hold on to, even if the Director of the VIS chose to give me the final death. I’d never be human again since I couldn’t be unmade. But my life could be forfeited. At least I’d end my existence knowing I’d retained enough of my humanity
to save this one desperate person.

  Twisting to keep the body in sight yet still able to talk to the woman, I forced calm into my voice. “Stay where you are, please. I need to check his pulse.” Not really. I could tell his heart had stopped pumping blood through his veins. He was deader than a dormouse in a trap.

  The woman nodded, but took a step toward the street.

  “You want to stay.” I unleashed my NLP skill, rooting her to the spot. “I have something for you.”

  Eyes vacant, she nodded again.

  Pulling my Walther free of my waistband, I pointed it to the ground and tiptoed toward Tall, Boorish, and Dead. Stooping next to him, I made a show of checking his pulse. As I knew…not even a thread of life left in him. I quickly searched his pockets and pulled out his ID, money clip, and firearm. Backing away from him, I returned to where the woman had slumped against the building.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Thierry-Sue.”

  The metal building was cold on my shoulder blades. “Dumb and Dead over there would have taken what you offered and still walked away without paying. You don’t have to trade your body to feed your children.”

  She snickered at my slur then sobered immediately. “There is no employment here for the wife of the man responsible for the deaths of so many.” Her stringy hair curtained her umber face as she hung her head. Clutching the sides of her torn shirt, she closed the gaping front. A single tear plopped onto the back of her hand. “I have three children. We lived in company housing, but my family has been evicted. My children and I have taken shelter in the shanty-town on the outskirts of town, but our first night, we were robbed of all our possessions. I have nothing left to sell to put food on my table.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed, feeling her pain and fright. Pretty certain I already knew the answer, I asked, “Who did your husband work for?”

  “Dr. Koszlov.”

  I’d come looking for answers, and it seemed I’d found a great source. “Do you know what they were making in the lab?”

  “I don’t know. No one does. Tomas, my husband, just said the chemicals were lethal and extreme care had to be taken.”

  Maybe not such a great source. “Did he talk about the earthquakes at all? There’s been increased movement in the Earth’s crust. Is that what caused the accident?”

  “Miss, everyone on Pitcairn is talking about earthquakes and tsunamis. We feel it all over the island. Ever since Dr. Koszlov began drilling for his facility, there have been tremors almost daily. Some are gentle rollers, others will rattle the timbers of your house.” She hung her head. “If you still have one.”

  “We believe the quakes are the result of significant digging below the surface of Rapa Nui. Did your husband ever mention what their final depth was meant to be?”

  “No, but he did say the construction phase was nearly over. They’d dismissed some of the workers and had begun the manufacturing process sooner than they’d anticipated.”

  “Did he ever talk about what kind of plans the man had?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Nooo. Tomas told me he’d overheard a conversation between Dr. Koszlov and another man. They spoke of when they owned the world, they would be kings. Tomas laughed when he told me. Who can own the world?” She perked up. “Wait, he did say something about making the chemical dissolvable in water…uh, soluble. I think that’s the word he used.”

  That was bloody frightening while not being extremely helpful. Waterways were the most difficult resource to protect. But it was something to go on. I needed to update T pronto so she could inform the ministry and other government agencies to increase vigilance at water plants.

  I slipped the fat wad of currency free of Dumb and Dead’s money clip and offered the bills to her.

  “No miss, I can’t take that.”

  “For pity’s sake, why ever not?”

  “It wouldn’t be right.” She darted a glance at the body.

  “He doesn’t need it,” I said gently as I chucked the money clip at his feet. The shiny bit of chrome rang when it clattered on the pavement. “The way I see it, he owes you at least this much. If he had more, you could have that, too.” I found the pocket on her skirt and tucked the cash inside.

  I unhooked my wide leather belt and then wrapped it around Thierry-Sue’s waist to keep her torn shirt closed. My own pirate blouse billowed a bit in the slight breeze.

  Checking the magazine on the man’s gun, I saw it was full and one in the chamber. I sited along the barrel before I ejected the chambered round, caught it mid-air, and let the weapon spin round my finger. I offered it to her butt first. “You’ll find you need to aim slightly left of your target. It’s heavy.”

  “No guns.”

  “Thierry-Sue, if you’d had a gun, you never would have been robbed. He doesn’t need protection anymore. There’s enough cash to feed your children, rent a place to live, and buy a little extra ammunition. Protect your kids. Protect yourself. No more bartering your body for food. Understood?”

  She took the weapon, holding it gingerly between her hands. I spied a cloth shopping bag at her feet, picked up the burlap sack, and offered the handles to her.

  “Go home and love those children. Stay safe, Thierry-Sue.”

  When she smiled timidly at me, warmth spread through my gut. My own life might be forfeit for holding on to my humanity, but damnation, it felt good.

  As soon as I returned to the resort and filed my report with T, I changed into workout gear and hit the tiny gym tucked away at the back of the grounds. I’d moved to the rowing machine after climbing one hundred flights of steps on the StairMaster when Baxtard appeared at my side. He had on khaki shorts and a thin cotton button-down shirt with an old-school Nehru collar. Hmm, trying to blend in with the natives, but falling short of the mark, thanks to his fair Germanic looks.

  I ignored him for a good five-hundred meters on the virtual river before he huffed out an exasperated sigh. He reached for the baton in my hands and yanked it away. “Solo! Ignoring me won’t make me go away.”

  Resting my palms on my thighs, I glared at him. “Can’t blame a girl for wishing, guppy. We don’t have to talk until I’ve finished exercising.” I reached for the handlebar, but he jerked it upright, away from my grasp.

  “Right now. Where the hell have you been?”

  “Not that it’s your business, but I went shopping. Bought a charming little crucifix. Unblessed, of course. More decoration than function.”

  He made an annoying, buzzer-like noise. “False. According to your GPS coordinates, you weren’t on the high street for more than five minutes.”

  I slapped my palm over my arm where Drax had installed the blasted tracker. I hadn’t felt it heat up during my recon mission “Why the bloody hell are you tracking me?”

  His gazed shifted left before centering on me again. “I was worried.” Tamsyn gave me a sanctimonious smirk. “In case you’re wondering, it’s also how I found you here in the gym. Now answer the question.”

  “I might have done more than just shop.”

  He quirked one brow sarcastically. “Really? According to police dispatches, which I’m also monitoring, a body was found at Pitcairn’s private airport. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  “Was there a bloody big sign saying Killed by Jayne Bond? Was the body drained of blood? Is that why you’re accusing me?” Angrily, I snatched up my towel and mopped my face as I climbed off the rower. I guzzled from my water bottle. Reining in my temper, I sprayed cleaning solution on the machine and wiped it down while Baxtard tapped an impertinent toe, still clinging to the handlebar.

  I relented because a smart woman picked her battles. “Fine, I do know something about that. I was on a recon excursion looking for any information I could get on Koszlov. I started at the airport. I may have run into a spot of trouble there.”

  When he released the handle, it snapped against the machine then smacked him in the shins before retracting int
o place.

  He grunted and leaned over to rub the injury. “Care to elaborate?”

  “I found the widow of one of the workers killed in the accident on site, trying to barter for food with one of Koszlov’s storm troopers. The greedy wanker wasn’t going to give her money. He was just going to use her for his own urges. He was going to rape her, then still not provide her with groceries. We exchanged some words before I tossed him into a building.”

  “Jayne, did you stab him?”

  “Why would you even ask that? Of course, I didn’t.”

  Bax inclined his head to the side and widened his eyes. “There were four deep puncture wounds on his throat. Know anything about that?”

  “Oh, that,” I breathed. “I might have brought out my claws. He was biting and slapping her. You didn’t hear her crying and shouting in pain. I was just trying to protect her. Same as any decent human being would do.”

  “I wouldn’t have hesitated to help her either.”

  “You weren’t there. He was vicious and cruel, and just looking at him, you’d—” I stopped mid-justification. “What’d you say?”

  “I said I’d have done the same. I believe in protecting innocents. Just like you.”

  “Then why’d you come in here acting like I’m public enemy number one?”

  “Because even though I’d champion the poor woman, I’d have been more discreet about it. And I wouldn’t have gone off without my assigned partner. There’s strength in numbers, Solo.”

  I eyed him a moment. “Are you going to report my extracurricular activity to T?” Now he had two instances of me going off script. The first when I welcomed Lucien to the investigation, and now, second, saving Thierry-Sue.

  Could be the nails in my silk-lined coffin.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he regarded me for a long beat.

  I refused to fidget or give him the satisfaction of knowing I was more concerned than I’d let on. I didn’t want another suspension. Bloody boring, they were. And I certainly wanted to avoid the final death.