Dark Moon Falls: Volume 2

by Bella Roccaforte

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Come back in a tick. I’ll have something ready for you.” Ciaran began to shake his head but the woman narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want to hear a word. Go. And come back in thirty minutes or so.” She pointed her finger at him, the movement probably a threat. If he didn’t return, she’d likely pack the lunches and seek him out even if it meant walking all over the town to do it.

  His only option was to nod in silent agreement and smile meekly before heading to the doors. Outside on the sidewalk, the sun was blazing down, and mere seconds passed before heat seared the top of his head. The sidewalks shimmered with the glare and he slid his sunglasses on before he scanned the street thoroughly. Where could she have gone?

  Her scent mingled with the odor of hot tar, the remnants of the foods from the diner, the scent of pine and grass and bark from the mountains, and the strong aroma of coffee.

  Which led him to wonder if perhaps the redhead had gone to get a bite to eat. He recalled that she’d simply sat there, so prim and proper that she’d seemed remote and standoffish, more arrogant and unreachable than the fire of her hair implied. He also recalled that she only sipped at her coffee and hadn’t ordered anything to eat.

  Ciaran wanted to kick himself hard and his wolf rumbled in agreement. She’d probably driven for hours considering where she’d come from, and she’d headed straight to the Delight’s to meet DarkSecure2k. She would have been starving and afraid and all he’d done was make things more difficult for her. Not to mention making her more hungry as well.

  When had he turned into such a fucking asshole?

  Ciaran blinked the thoughts away, having no time for questioning his inner motivations right that minute. He messaged Frankie on their secure network. “Heading over to do a secure sweep of the apples and pears before I take her there.” Frankie replied with a simple thumbs up and Ciaran shook his head.

  He’d ripped into the guy when all Frankie had probably been doing was something he’d believed was a good deed. Perhaps the kid had overstepped a little with the trick in setting Ciaran up to a face to face meet with a new client at the diner, but otherwise, the job appeared to be legit. In so far as the hacker’s information was correct.

  The jury was still out on that.

  9

  Ciaran

  Ciaran hurried over to his beaten-up old truck, then made the five-minute trip through the main street of the picturesque little town and along the highway. Most tourists passing through Dark Moon Falls would very likely miss the little dusty road forking off the state highway which had been left un-signposted on purpose. But, if experience told Ciaran anything, there would be those few, more determined travelers, who were likely to end up discovering the place no matter what.

  Today was no different.

  Ciaran swore under his breath as he drove up to the carpark which consisted of a rectangular section of gravel neatly sprayed with faded white paint to mark out the bays.

  A silver Audi was parked close to the whitewashed porch stairs and the interior light shone bright enough that he had to squint to make out the occupants. He didn’t need to strain to hear the conversation though, wolf hearing and all. A portly, pink-faced old man was complaining fervently to his companion—perhaps his wife from her expression of patient endurance—who was sitting in the car probably just waiting for him to take a breath before she could butt in with her opinion.

  The man was grumbling about that reception desk being unmanned and a voice on the intercom announcing that there were no available rooms. The pair continued their bickering inside the car as the man got seated and belted then backed his car up and proceeded to perform a too-wide three-point-turn to aim the vehicle back in the direction of the narrow road to the highway.

  Ciaran was getting out of his truck when the man pulled up beside him. “Don’t waste your time, buddy. They ain’t got no room. No idea what type of establishment they’re running but they don’t even have a real receptionist, just a bloody recording.” The man’s face was pink as he sputtered his announcement, then he gave a quick nod before driving off, his tires spitting gravel and dust in his wake.

  He sure was in a hurry for a place to stay. Ciaran shook his head then focused on the little B&B. Jumping from the truck, he went for a quick walk around the grounds, circumnavigating the building to check if there’d been any recent activity. He sniffed the air but found nothing more than the usual wildlife in the vicinity. Confirming the perimeter clear, Ciaran returned to the truck, retrieved his set of keys from the glove-box and approached the building.

  The squat double-story weatherboard house boasted six rooms. In its heyday it had been the place to bring a date for dinner, or for a night of hot romancing. Not that there was anything seedy about the place.

  When it had been shut down a few years ago, Ciaran had mourned the town’s loss both on account of the rooms and the good food. He walked up the familiar stone-lined path which had once been strewn with broken shells.

  He sprinted up the stairs to the porch and opened the door to the dusty, darkened interior. So far, nothing appeared amiss. Ciaran scanned the room, scenting the place just in case, but he found no trace of anything to indicate someone had been inside—other than the tourist he’d passed earlier.

  He followed the man’s scent to the counter and then the recording began to play, providing Ciaran with the same announcement the man had received. No rooms available. Deepest apologies.

  Ciaran nodded to himself, glad the system was still functioning. He approached a pair of double doors that would have led into an interior living area which had been transformed into a restaurant. He used his access card against the blank wall, the same spot behind which a panel was hidden that would scan the chip. Then he spent a few moments waiting until the door opened with a soft click and a sigh.

  He checked over his shoulder briefly before sliding inside and shutting the door quickly, trying to make no sounds. There was always the possibility the tourist would have returned, curious why someone else had entered the property and not followed him out to the highway after so long. Let the guy wonder what had happened. Ciaran knew, other than breaking down an exterior wall, there was no way the man would gain access to the building.

  Ciaran quickly inspected the ground floor then headed upstairs to check on all the rooms. Each turned out to be silent and covered in dust—other that the three which he suspected had been used recently by someone else to whom Frankie had given access.

  Up another flight of stairs, Ciaran was relieved to find the rooms clean, giving no sign again of anyone having gained entry. He shook his head and headed to the attic entrance, swiped the card again and waited until the door clicked open. Upstairs in the attic, he scoured the bags and boxes for what he was going to need. Or rather, what his client was going to need.

  Once he brought her here, he hoped she would take his advice without challenging him. The thought that she may object to his plan made him grit his teeth. He’d fight that battle when he met it.

  Taking only a small black case, he went back downstairs, checking all the doors and windows again just to be sure. He still had the basement to check out, so he hung a left, about to head down to the kitchen at the back of the house.

  But Frankie’s voice crackled on the intercom system and Ciaran’s heart and body went still. “Ciaran, get out of there! I think the location has been compromised.” Ciaran didn’t waste a second. Nothing else that Frankie had to say would be capable of changing his mind.

  Ciaran spun on his heel and raced for the security door. He’d surged into wolf speed and thankfully the door clicked and then swung open, Frankie helping him get out of the house without any delay. Ciaran wasn’t thinking about the consequences, about what ‘compromised’ really meant. All he knew was he had to get out of the house.

  He sprinted across reception, flung the front door open and raced down the stairs to his truck. He was a wolf shifter, so of course he wasn’t going to be easily hurt, but he could
still injure himself. Worse, the safehouse he’d planned on bringing his client to was now compromised. He had the distinct feeling Leira was already in extreme danger.

  He managed to fling himself around the far side of the truck before the explosion sent the ground rolling beneath him. A blast of searing hot air surged at him, rocking the truck enough for Ciaran to consider retreating further.

  Around the house, the trees were bent almost half over, pressed backward by the force of the explosion. Debris rained down around him, thunking onto the hood of the car and hurtling past his head with inches to spare and he wondered if he was in more danger than he’d initially expected.

  But then the truck settled, rocking back and forth on the large tires, the air around him filling with the odor of melted paint and metal, and of charred wood. Pieces of weatherboard and glass fell slowly to the ground around him, and an armchair landed a few yards from the front of the truck with a dull thud.

  Ciaran shook his head, flung the door open and scrambled over the seat to the driver’s side. He didn’t think, just started the truck, geared up and gunned the engine in a desperate bid to get away in time. Perhaps he was moving a little too late but he had to be careful. Whoever had just blown the house up could have set up more explosions in order to catch people who came to investigate unawares. Or maybe not. How much time had they really had?

  He pushed the truck to its limits leaving the crumbling building behind. In his rear mirror he watched a cloud of dust go up as everything landed, the entire building destroyed.

  Dialing Frankie with one hand he said, “What the hell, Frankie? What was that?”

  “You okay, man?” Frankie didn’t answer the question.

  “Yeah. I’m good. But the house is gone. I mean literally in pieces. Nothing left.”

  “Ah, fuck.”

  Ciaran heard the sadness in the kid’s voice and understood all too well. Frankie’s family had left him the old building and he’d never intended to sell it. Which was how it had ended up converted into a safe house.

  “I’m sorry kid. Thanks for the heads up though. I made it out just in time.”

  Frankie cleared his throat. “Yeah. I called as soon as I noticed someone had tapped into our conversation. I’m still trying to figure out how.”

  Ciaran stiffened, his fingers tightening on the wheel. The scenery zapped past him as his mind turned over all the events of the last hour. “How did they manage to get past you?” He knew Frankie would hear the judgement in his voice but he couldn’t help it right now. Someone had just blown up the fucking safehouse he was supposed to use to keep Leira safe.

  “I didn’t…. “Frankie stopped speaking, then took a breath. “I didn’t understand what I was seeing. Not until it was too late. They covered their tracks too well.”

  “So what exactly are we dealing with?”

  “Well, this means Aldrich is pulling out all the stops to find her. Whatever Leira has in her possession is something he wants badly enough to kill anyone who stands in his way.”

  Ciaran rolled his shoulders, sped past a car that was going well below the limit, and ignored the ‘Fuck You’s’ that followed in his wake as the driver screamed at him. “So you still don’t know what it is? Maybe if we knew we’d have some idea of how to help her.”

  Frankie laughed. “It doesn’t matter even if she has Dracula’s cold dead heart in a box. What matters now is how we keep this woman alive. Ciaran? You got any ideas?”

  “Well, I was going to suggest to her that we go somewhere without internet. To ensure she can’t be followed. Little did I know she already was found.”

  “I don’t think they found her. Not in the literal sense. They’re piggybacking on something that maybe she’s got with her. Phone or laptop maybe? But my contact said her devices were both clean. But we can’t assume he’s perfect.”

  “Frankie?” Ciaran asked warily. “How do you know any of this? Are you holding out on me?”

  “No, I don’t know what she’s hiding,” Frankie replied, his tone firm and almost offended. “All I know is that my contact assures me that she’s on the up and up and I trust him.”

  “Fine,” Ciaran said curtly. His fingers drummed the worn leather of the wheel as he ran through everything he’d seen at the B&B. “The safehouse is blown but I checked the whole place out. There was no evidence of entry. But I never got to the basement so it’s possible whoever entered the house used an exterior access route into the underground store.”

  “That’s possible. You didn’t see anyone out there at all did you?”

  “Just an old couple wanting to check in. When I arrived, the old guy was complaining about not— Oh shit.” Ciaran realized too late that the man who’d stopped to speak to him could very likely have been the person who set the bomb.

  “Geez. Why didn’t you start with that?” Frankie whined. The sound of keys being crashed followed. Then he said, “No alarms were tripped but that means shit especially if we’re dealing with the supernatural types that this guy Aldrich usually deals with. Those two people could have simply been innocent tourists too. We can’t be certain yet.”

  “Ah fuck. I didn’t think about that.” Although Frankie didn’t mention anything about Ciaran losing his touch, he could almost hear the kid’s voice in his ear asking that very question. “Okay. Still, maybe we should get the cops onto this guy. Have them bring him in for questioning.”

  “Okay. I’ll get right on it. But you do know we have a big problem if they were the kind of supernaturals who use glamors right?”

  “Yeah. I know.” Ciaran didn’t want to argue with the hacker.

  Today was most definitely not looking like it was going well.

  10

  Ciaran

  “Frankie, now that our safehouse is totaled, we have to figure something else out.” Ciaran frowned as he slowed for turning traffic on the outskirts of the town. “We need to know how to keep this guy off her tail.”

  Frankie grunted. “The only thing I can say is to get off-grid. And I mean totally.”

  “You mean go old-school?” Ciaran scowled. Old-school meant he’d have to relinquish any and all electronic surveillance and revert to physical patrols of the place as well as keeping a close eye on the woman. Then he nodded to himself as he came to a decision. “Yeah, ok. I have an idea.”

  “Do tell.”

  “My place up in the mountains.” Ciaran spoke and then realized he’d possibly put that location in danger now.

  Who knew how his conversations was being observed? Someone had most definitely heard his conversation in the diner in order to track down the place so quickly. And that meant whoever had set the bomb had known within seconds of him mentioning it in order to head over there, a few minutes ahead him and set the bomb.

  “Frankie? Are you sure we’re secure?”

  “Yeah. I’m dead sure.” Frankie replied, and Ciaran could just picture him nodding vehemently. “So you thinking about that shack in the snow?” the hacker asked.

  “Yeah. It will work. Can you make sure you disengage the surveillance system?” Ciaran asked, glad the kid was able to do that from a distance.

  “Doing it now. I just checked and there’s no suspicious movement in the area so I’ll happily shut it down now.”

  “Good I’m almost at the cafe. I’ll fetch her.”

  “You breaking out your kit?”

  Ciaran rolled his eyes. The kid already knew what Ciaran had in his toolbox. Literally. “Let’s keep the chatting to a minimum.”

  Frankie snorted. “This line is secure.”

  “You said the same thing earlier but somehow they knew exactly where I was headed.”

  “Okay. I guess you’re right.” Frankie cleared his throat. “Ok, everything’s done and ready. You get yourself there. Use the sat phone from now on. And shut everything down that she has with her.”

  Ciaran grunted. “Yeah. I gotta go.” He cut the call, fingers tense as he pocketed his phone. He’d wanted to s
nap at the hacker, remind him that he knew what he was doing. That this was his thing.

  But the realization hit him that he’d already been bested, literally before he’d understood what the game was that he was playing. He’d only voiced an intention of where to take her before he’d even made an actual plan to keep the woman safe.

  And someone had heard him, and managed to stay one step ahead of him. That fact begged many questions. Questions he wasn’t ready to consider. For now, the most important thing was to get the woman out of the town itself and off-grid where she won’t be able to be tracked.

  Black case in hand, he jumped out of his truck and stalked inside the cafe, ignoring the enticing smells of the coffee that wove around him as he walked toward the redhead. She stuck out like a sore thumb with that flaming copper hair.

  But as he approached, he frowned. Her cheeks were moist, eyes glittering with tears, fingers quivering as she set her phone aside. What had happened to make her so upset?

  No, Ciaran recognized the scent of fear on her.

  What had happened to make her so afraid? Afraid enough to cry? She didn’t seem to be the type to cry in a public place so he knew her tears were a really bad sign.

  Without asking, Ciaran took the seat opposite her and though her eyes widened at his audacity, she didn’t say anything. Perhaps she was going to give him a few choice words and then leave like she’d done at the diner.

  She flinched and glanced up at him, golden eyes flaring as though on fire. Then she shook her head, anger and embarrassment at war in her expression.

  As he discretely set the case on the floor beside his foot, he asked, “Why are you crying?” He hoped his question wasn’t as accusatory as he thought it sounded.

  She cleared her throat. “No reason. Just tired…I think.”

  She was lying. Even if he hadn’t sensed her fear, he recognized the expression in her eyes. Of course, he was to blame for turning her down so spectacularly.