Awakened (The Belladonna Agency Book 2)

by Virna DePaul

  As for emailing or calling him? No. Ascertaining whether he knew about vampires and what he was doing for the FBI? That was definitely something that had to be done in person. Assuming he’d even let her within twenty feet of him, that is. But why wouldn’t he? They’d fucked. They’d parted ways. There should be no reason he wouldn’t want to help her.

  Even so, the thought of having to see Nick face-to-face was a double-edged sword. It would be a lot harder for Nick to refuse her if she was standing right in front of him. At the same time, she’d undoubtedly be swamped by ever-intensifying memories of what she and Nick had once shared.

  Sex, yes, but more than that.

  For her … affection. And intimacy.

  For him … he’d been protective of her, no doubt. Too protective. It had been one of the major things they’d fought about. He’d encouraged her to give up military life and pursue something else she’d been passionate about before Noah had died—art. But even so, once he’d put on his camo pants and returned to being big bad Nick, he hadn’t seemed interested in affection or intimacy. And she hadn’t missed how easy it had been to compartmentalize her in his mind.

  Didn’t change the fact that their connection had been intense, for as long as it lasted. She didn’t want to get close again no matter how much she needed him now. Back then she’d merely been vulnerable. Today, though she’d never admit it to anyone but herself, it sometimes took everything she had not to curl up into a ball and hide from the knowledge of what her life had become. That she was part of a world where the bad guys weren’t just teenage gang members or fanatical dictators with vast armies to do their dirty work. A world where the FBI had authorized the turning of humans into vampires even as it kept that fact a secret. A world where Rogues, some of them the FBI’s former allies, were exploiting humans for blood and sex and she was one of the people responsible for stopping them.

  She was tired down to her bones and so badly needed to share her burden with someone. Why not with Nick?

  She knew why.

  Breaking up with Nick would hurt far worse if she had to do it again.

  Finding Jane might be her first priority, but protecting her heart was a damn close second.

  Chapter 2

  The road up Nick Maltese’s mountain was clearly meant to keep people out, but right now there were two red dots moving on the surveillance scanner he’d patched into a satellite mapping feed. Nick studied them carefully. He wasn’t expecting company, which meant at this very moment he could have two harmless humans, two dangerous humans, two vampires, two supremely dangerous vampires, or any combination heading his way.

  That’s what came from accepting a kill contract with the government, limited as it was. Especially given his targets were vampires.

  In exchange, he had plenty of downtime between jobs and some much-needed privacy. Coming up here to develop and test new gear had been a sweet deal. Nick had been given the run of the mountain, which was all government property and still a source of some rare mineral Uncle Sam didn’t want to privatize. The feds had been nice enough to slap some fresh concrete over the crumbling bunker at the summit, an abandoned World War II lookout for enemy planes. The slot windows didn’t let in much light, but no one could use them to get in. He liked it fine. Per his request, some other improvements had been made.

  Home sweet home. Fairly cozy for a fortress. Nick didn’t much care where he lived as long as he had something challenging to occupy his time. Right now, he was developing specialized equipment for the FBI, supervising the training of search dogs by soldier Kevin Day, and most important, dealing with the things those dogs were being trained to find.

  The list of turned vampires he was supposed to kill wouldn’t take him that long to checkmark, especially because someone else was helping him track them.

  Vampires. Not the kind in movies. Real ones. What a learning experience.

  After he’d left the army, Nick’s former commanding officer had set up a meeting between him and the FBI. Little did he know then that his record number of longdistance kills was only one of the reasons. Sworn to secrecy, he’d been briefed about vampires—both the born and the turned variety. Hardly anyone knew about them—anyone human, at least. But that could change, and soon.

  At first, Nick hadn’t wanted to believe it. But the thorough documentation he’d been repeatedly drilled on—and his required attendance at an autopsy of the ghastly remains of vampire victims, drained of every drop of blood—had been enough to convince him. The secret operation was critically important.

  There were other ex-ops on similar missions throughout the United States. He didn’t know any of them. He doubted that the name on his orders was any more real than the signature. If he went down, the FBI would protect itself, which probably meant denying any knowledge of the half-assed vampire-turning operation it had lost control of some time ago.

  But the story hadn’t ended there. Far from it. It had taken Nick months to learn the real story. That the bastards in Washington had worked with what were essentially vampire criminals to turn humans. And not just any humans, but military vets who’d been incapacitated, either physically or mentally, by war, but who still wanted to serve their country. Military vets like his brother, Gary, who in the end had begged Nick to kill him.

  And Nick had done it. Now the FBI’s Turning Program had been shut down, but the FBI still had three vampire enemies to worry about: 1) the born vampires who said they wanted to live in peace and remain hidden but refused to give up their secrets; 2) Rogue vampires, plenty of whom had once worked for the Bureau but were now becoming bolder in their criminal activity against humans; and 3) the turned vampires that the FBI had itself created and were now the victims of some kind of neuron-rage and had to be put down like sick, useless animals. This last classification of vampires had become so violent and mentally imbalanced—in official lingo, a clear and present danger to innocent citizens—that they were named on The List.

  It was a document that didn’t officially exist, one that had been drafted when some freak club called Salvation’s Crossing had been busted up out in California. Reliable intel, which had been shared with him, had it that the vampires would swiftly move east, to be closer to Europe, the part of it where he’d been stationed, anyway. Some of the major players apparently liked to commute from Nick’s former stomping grounds.

  He could manage a passable conversation in several Slavic languages. Basic shit.

  No, I’m not looking for a hot time. Yes, this is a gun. Now get the fuck out of my way.

  Which summed up the remainder of his tour of duty after Barrett had left him. Correction: after he’d made sure she would have to leave. For her own safety. He hadn’t touched on the subject during their final, passion-crazed bedroom debriefing. She’d kill him if she ever found out what he’d done.

  He missed her so much he’d like to give her the chance. Only shit had happened soon after she’d left him, shit that had changed him forever. Shit she didn’t need to be exposed to given she was, last he checked, finally living life safe.

  Would she despise him if she knew what he was doing now? How low he’d sunk? That he was in essence assassinating former human citizens who’d only wanted to be useful to their country again?

  So far, Nick had taken care of numbers one, three through five, eight, and fifteen on The List. Number three, of course, had been the hardest …

  Memories of Gary swamped him. Grief. Horrific images.

  Pressing his palms into his eyes, he pushed it all back.

  He couldn’t go there.

  He wouldn’t.

  As always, he had more pressing shit to deal with. And he was going to keep it that way.

  Lowering his hands and blinking rapidly, he once more focused on his surveillance equipment. Right now, it looked like things were about to get interesting.

  The scanner screen lit up. Nick and Kevin wore gizmos that identified them differently on their equipment. Nick assumed the two individuals r
epresented by the dots were together, with one leading and the other following as a precautionary measure. The tree cover made it hard to determine exactly what was going on. The ultra-high-resolution scanner was one he’d designed but it was still in beta stage, prone to glitches.

  The dots stopped. Dot two didn’t catch up to dot one. Nick pulled up a topo grid that placed the dots in different positions at the bottom of a dangerously steep, narrow canyon leading directly to the top of the mountain. Staying put would give him a certain advantage. He waited.

  The second dot moved sideways. Someone didn’t want to tumble down the steep slopes of the canyon. Nick had done it himself once, when he’d first moved to the mountain. Not fun.

  The first dot continued upward, slowly.

  In terms of cover, the separation of the two dots didn’t make sense. Maybe their goal was to cover as much territory as possible. But for what?

  His military-bred instincts kicked in. Time to act. Nick went for his current weapon of choice: a crossbow he had designed to his own specifications. In the right hands—his—it was deadly and virtually silent. The new project he’d started on the isolated mountain might be discovered if gunfire startled the animals. It was a safe enough bet that he wasn’t dealing with a couple of lost birdwatchers. He’d get a good look at the intruders first. If a couple of punks had climbed the fence, he’d scare them off. If they were turneds, he would kill them if he had to.

  Nick got on his radio and called Kev. “You seeing what I’m seeing?”

  “Yep. Figured I’d wait to hear from you.” Kev’s voice was youthful and so was he. But he was no less authoritative for being only twenty-three.

  “I’m going out. If you don’t hear from me in thirty, call for backup.”

  “Right. Be careful.”

  Nick grinned. “Yes, Mother.”

  Kev snorted and Nick disconnected the call. He slung the bow over his shoulder. The razor-sharp arrows were barbed and tipped with liquid nitrogen, capable of taking out humans and turned vampires instantly.

  If his visitors were born vampires? Well, Nick was shit out of luck, because as far as Nick knew, they couldn’t be killed. Best to be prepared though …

  Out of habit, Nick counted the arrows.

  Six.

  That oughta do it. He rarely missed.

  Even when he wished he could.

  Barrett continued the strenuous climb up Nick’s mountain. The trees were short and spindly by now, thinning out or dead. Outcrops of rock appeared in their place. Barrett stopped to rest, stepping to the side of the trail, and nearly lost her footing again. To her left, a hidden canyon sloped down to an unseen spring—it couldn’t be a creek, not this high up. She could just hear a faint gurgling and wished she’d thought to bring water.

  On she went. The uneasy feeling that she wasn’t alone began to bother her.

  Barrett turned around several times, seeing nothing and hearing nothing. She was comforted by the weight of the blade strapped to her calf underneath her pants, a blade that had been dipped in liquid nitrogen. Only here, now, she was more afraid a wild animal or redneck human would jump her than she was of vampires. Just in case, she took out the small pistol in the holster under her arm and stuck it into her waistband. Not a regulation carry, but faster to get at in case she needed it.

  She checked her smartphone to see how close she was to the mountain’s top, frowning. The screen was entirely blank, which was weird. Not so much as the standard No Network Connection message. The usual rows of cute little apps had vanished.

  The gurgling grew louder. She wondered if she was closer to the source of the spring and whether it would be safe to drink from it. She was about to step toward the sound when a twig snapped over her right shoulder. Tensing, she turned—

  Huge hands, unnaturally strong, encircled her throat and squeezed. Barrett clawed at them, choking on a foul smell of decay that intensified as the hands squeezed harder. There seemed to be nobody attached to them. The gurgling was loud, wetting her neck, as if an unseen mouth had opened. She felt the brush of something—fangs?—and twisted frantically against the gripping hands. She strained to reach her knife, but got nowhere near it.

  The fingers dug in.

  A blackness rose inside her brain but she heard a shout before she fell.

  Her name … someone shouted her name.

  She knew that voice …

  Nick recognized the two individuals instantly. Barrett Miles, a woman he hadn’t seen in over a year, and Tim Murphy, a man he knew only from the photographs he’d seen and the file he’d reviewed.

  Murphy also happened to be number two on The List, a turned vampire target who had somehow managed to avoid detection … until now. He was a stinking, diseased mess, suffering the most advanced physical deterioration that Nick had seen thus far. That made sense since those on The List were ranked in order of their “expiration date.”

  Murphy had his beefy hands wrapped around Barrett’s throat, and even as one question reverberated through his brain—what the hell Barrett was doing here—Nick drew his bow back. He couldn’t make the kill by shooting Murphy in the heart, not with Barrett in the way, but he could damn well fire the arrow into Murphy’s head. The turned vampire towered over her.

  He had to give Barrett a fighting chance. She arched in agony as Murphy’s fierce gaze lifted to him. Barrett kicked and jabbed her attacker in the right spots, obviously well trained, but her strength was ebbing fast. Nick aimed, right between the vampire’s blazing eyes.

  Dead center.

  Easy shot.

  Chapter 3

  Barrett regained consciousness with agonizing slowness. She was lying down. Her head banged like someone was hitting it. Hard. Over and over. She willed the pain down but it didn’t go away, interrupting her awareness of the rest of her body and her surroundings. Bit by bit she got it back.

  Her wrists were loosely bound. She was alive but she wasn’t sure why.

  The decaying smell of the unseen creature that had nearly killed her still hovered in the air. It could be near. Watching her. Its captive.

  Waiting to kill.

  Vaguely she thought of working her hands free and running for her life … but … she was someplace inside now, no longer surrounded by stunted trees. It seemed to be night. The air coming in through a reinforced window was cool. She forced raw breaths in and out of her swollen throat.

  A face swam into view. A man was leaning over her. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The sun. Trees.

  She took in a few details. The shadowy light in the room didn’t help much. Dark brown hair, messed up. There was a leaf in it. He had rugged features that were somehow familiar and a strong jaw. Dark eyes, serious. He was strongly built with broad shoulders, wearing faded jeans and a camo shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Brawny arms lightly dusted with dark hair reached out to her. He drew back when he saw her flinch.

  She blinked, forcing herself to focus. Who was he?

  “You got a hell of a knock on the head.” He reached out a hand and brushed his fingertips over an aching lump on her temple. The gentleness of his touch made her even more confused.

  “Huh?”

  He shook his head. “You fell. Do you remember?”

  The effort of thinking made her head throb painfully again. Automatically, she tried pulling herself to a sitting position.

  “Stay still,” he commanded. Something hidden in his other hand gave off a steely glint and Barrett cringed. “I’m not going to hurt you. Let’s get these off.” He clipped through plastic zip ties, by the sound of it, and released her hands.

  She didn’t have the strength to hit him.

  “Did you—why—?” Barrett was just barely able to think that maybe it was better not to ask.

  She had no idea who’d attacked her, but as the man got closer to the light and memory returned, she knew with absolute conviction that it hadn’t been him.

  She didn’t know how and she didn’t know from what, but Nick Malte
se had saved her. More fleeting memories came back to her. He’d drawn back the mechanism of a crossbow and aimed. The arrow flew. She’d heard it sing. After that, nothing.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Had to tie you to get you across my shoulders and run back here. It was two miles, uphill.”

  Barrett blinked, summoning up a memory of stunted trees and scattered rocks. Seemed to her she’d been closer to the top than that. Nick was just as strong as she remembered. Maybe stronger.

  “I didn’t know when you’d come to or how you’d react.” He sat on the bed—she realized that she was on one—and examined her wrists. Then he let her go.

  “You carried me here?”

  “Like a little lost lamb.”

  He’d said that about her once before. During one of their arguments about whether she was suited to military life and working with refugees. He’d never said it again, probably because she’d ripped him a new one and then hadn’t spoken to him for over a week.

  Despite everything, Barrett managed a weary half smile. “I wasn’t lost. And I’m not that little. But thanks.” She touched her neck.

  “You could have called or texted.” He held up her smartphone.

  “Yeah, well, you never were reachable unless you wanted to be.”

  She hadn’t meant the words to sound accusatory but they did. Nick stared at her for a second before grinning and handing her the phone. “So shoot me.” He reached into a pocket and came up with her gun. She noticed that the holster was lying on the bed next to her sheathed knife.

  “Would that get your attention?” she asked, falling into the easy, teasing banter that had come so naturally to them. “I did think about calling you when I was driving up, decided not to at the gate.”

  A minor lie. She hadn’t wanted to give him the chance to tell her to go away, that was all. She’d just wanted to knock on his door and see his face when he opened it.