Bloodshade

by Isadora Brown

  "Because his name came up twice," Robbie said. "For some reason, they have his military file in their system but that's it. They also have a record of the attack in Afghanistan in their system. But besides those two mentions, nothing."

  "The attack," I pushed.

  But I already knew.

  Robbie caught my eye. "You were right," he said. "Officially, it was a random mine. Unofficially? Friendly fire."

  Chapter 17

  In my entire career as an investigative journalist, I had never actually broken into a government facility and looked for incriminating documents in order to help me write an article. If anything, I usually received phone calls, tips, emails that would point me in the right direction. The only thing I had was a name—Sonya Crawford—and the dog tags I gave Jon that Yvonne had been holding onto. His number was still etched into my mind.

  579413.

  I didn't know if it was the physical dog tag Jon needed to acquire the information he was looking for, the number that identified Jon, or if it was something else entirely. In the scheme of things, it didn't matter. I was taking a risk no matter what, and I had to deal with it.

  Robbie didn't like it, but he thought it was safer than poking Guzman the way I had been. And if I did what he wanted, played by Robbie's rules, he was willing to help me with this.

  Which was why I was standing in front of black iron gates and looking at a single-story government facility. The building itself was the Hoover building, a nod to the corrupt and tactless FBI Director from long ago, even though this building had nothing to do with the FBI. I wondered if it was some kind of secret joke amongst the CIA.

  Thunder cracked in the sky overhead. I glanced up to take a look and frowned. I was dressed for the weather, even had a small umbrella in my trench coat pocket, but the last thing I wanted was rain. Typically, I loved the rain, especially when I was wrapped up in a warm blanket, pajamas, and a mystery novel. But rain meant the possibility of getting important documents wet. I had my briefcase but I didn't know if I would even have time to put any files inside. That, and the fact that security might confiscate my briefcase if they realized I was a fraud.

  The sky creaked open. Small droplets of rain to soft to leave any residue started coming down. It would get harder as time went on. I wouldn't be surprised if downpour began in two hours, maybe less.

  I took a deep breath.

  If I was going to do this, I needed to do this now. I pulled out my badge Robbie had made me from inside my trench coat. The black lanyard clung to my neck. I gave it a gentle tug to make sure it wouldn't come off easily. This was my only way in and my only way out. I couldn't lose this at any cost.

  I walked straight for the security box attached to the gate and pressed my badge against the keycard screen. The gate hesitated. I held my breath but forced myself to remain calm. If I started looking around, I would give myself away and I couldn't do that.

  The gated started moving.

  "Oh, thank God," I couldn't help but mutter.

  I gathered my belongings and rolled my shoulders back. If I wasn't holding tightly to my briefcase, my knees would have been shaking so hard, they would have knocked together. I didn't understand why I was this nervous. I snuck into Mayor Guzman's meeting, which, yes, nearly got me killed, but…

  Maybe that was it. I had never before been gunned down. I had never before been shot at, been chased to my place of work, had never been stalked, had never thought I was going to die, until last week.

  If Jon hadn't shown up…

  I shuddered.

  "Come on, Tucker," I said to myself. "Get a grip on yourself. Start moving before you start to draw suspicion."

  I forced myself to take a step and nearly fell flat on my ass. It was like my knee had given out and my heel had twisted simultaneously. I shook myself out of it. I took a deep breath. My face was getting hot. Tears were starting to accumulate in my eyes. I needed to get back in my zone of confidence, and the only way for me to do that was to take one step, and then another.

  I managed to make it to the building without any other missteps.

  There.

  I felt better. Slightly.

  I flashed the badge at the entrance door and it popped open. The building was obviously closed for business for the day, but employees could come and go as they pleased. At least, that was what Robbie told me as he was laying out this plan that he reminded me multiple times that he did not agree to.

  The door popped open and I walked inside. The lobby was open with glass windows everywhere. I felt vulnerable and exposed. The moonlight pooled through the glass. Each step I took echoed off the walls. It sounded like shots down a silent street. I kept looking over my shoulder, waiting to see if anyone was following me. To see if I had been caught.

  I kept walking though, trying to soften each step so the click-clack of my heels wasn't as loud. I passed the elevators, I passed the empty security table, I passed the chairs and glass coffee tables with the latest magazines and periodicals.

  When I finally hit the carpet and the long hallway, I nearly wept. I looked to my left. Robbie said Yvonne worked on the first floor, three doors down from the entrance, on the left.

  I turned my body left and started to walk. For whatever reason, it was easier for me to keep my wits about me when I counted each step I took in my head.

  I came up to the third door and reached for the knob. Until I heard something fall inside of the office.

  I jumped.

  Someone was in there.

  Where could I hide?

  My eyes sliced across the hallway. There was nowhere for me to go. I saw a door that led to probably another office directly across from me. A wall was on my left, the long hallway was on my right.

  I had no choice but to try the office across from me.

  Footsteps crossed the room. It sounded like he was heading for the door. I needed to move quickly. If not, he was going to open the door. I would be caught. I would probably be killed for good. I quickly moved across the hall and nearly tripped over myself. I seriously needed to practice wearing heels because I sucked at this. I thought I would have some sort of innate feminine ability that I would be able to wear heels without issue, but I was totally and utterly wrong.

  I turned the office doorknob.

  Locked.

  Just my luck.

  Of course it would be locked. There were probably really important documents inside. If anyone wanted to keep their job, there was no way in hell they would risk leaving their office open to potential security breaches.

  The door to Yvonne's office flew open.

  I blinked, frozen. I was shit under pressure. No imagination. I simply stood there, looking like an idiot, waiting to die. A deer in the headlights.

  I heard a groan.

  "What in the hell are you doing here?"

  I let out a sigh of relief. In truth, I almost cried.

  Jon.

  Of course. It was Jon.

  "I just…" I grabbed onto his forearm. I hadn't remembered moving toward him. I just needed something to hold on to because I was already close to falling apart. "I'm just glad it's you."

  He tugged me into the office and softly closed the door. Neither of us made a move for the lights even if I couldn't see anything.

  "Let me guess," Jon said, striding over to the desk and leaning against it. "Your friend Robbie looked up Yvonne and got you this information."

  "I thought I'd help you," I told him, crossing my arms over my chest.

  "I didn't ask for it," he pointed out.

  "Is this what I sound like?" I wondered out loud. "No wonder Robbie gets frustrated with me. I'm kind of an asshole."

  "Kind of?"

  I ignored the bait and stepped further inside. "Did you find anything here?" I asked, trying to look around. The office was relatively plain. No pictures of family, no certificates of some school or accolades and awards. Nothing to really make her stand out. Maybe that was the point.

  "No,"
he said, turning his head. "To be honest, I have no idea what I'm looking for in the first place."

  "Well, did you go through her stuff?" I asked. I moved around Jon to her desk. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out gloves. "How did you find out Yvonne worked here?"

  "I should ask you the same question," came his gruff reply.

  I wrinkled my brow. Fair point.

  "Robbie," I said.

  "Robbie," he repeated, his voice flat. "He's the same guy who helped track down Sonya Crawford."

  "Yes," I said with a nod as I knelt down and slowly opened the top draw. Nothing but organized pens. I grabbed a few, knowing she would know they were missing just because I knew it would piss her off. "You knew this. Why else would you send me to live with him while Guzman wants to kill me?"

  "She only wants to kill me because you can't keep your mouth shut," Jon said. He was looking at the bare walls, maybe trying to figure out if there was anything hidden behind them.

  "If that's the criteria for wanting to kill me, then a quarter of Perry's population wants to kill me," I said, moving to the second drawer. "I'm not going to stop telling the truth just because people are bothered by it. I can't control how the public reacts; I can only control my words."

  "Then maybe you should control them," Jon pointed out, moving to the adjacent wall with the window in it. "Who goes up to the mayor and calls her a murderer?"

  "Listen, I've already been lectured by Michelle and by Robbie," I said. There was nothing of value in the second drawer, just a couple of files with meeting notes and doodles. I shifted my attention to the last drawer. "I don't need one from you."

  "You need as many as it will take," Jon said. "What you're doing is idiotic. You want to be a voice for the people? Give them someone they can believe in. Not a whiny bratty child who's upset because she's being picked on by the cool girl."

  I rolled my eyes and pulled open the third drawer. It wouldn't budge.

  Interesting.

  "Hey," I said. "Do you have a hair pin?"

  Jon stopped looking at the wall to turn his attention to me. "Yeah, it's in my purse, right next to my concealer," he said. "Grab as many as you want."

  I rolled my eyes and flipped him off.

  Shit.

  How was I supposed to break into the drawer without a hair pin? I pulled open the top drawer where all of Yvonne's sticky notes and calendar were but couldn't find anything I could use. I even ran my fingers through my hair just to make sure I didn't put one in and forget about it.

  But I knew.

  I hadn't worn hair pins since high school dance class, and even then, only when the uniform required it. My hair was too thick to use hair pins successfully.

  "What do you need?" Jon asked, coming around the desk and looking down at me with his head tilted to the side. With those dark eyes and the way he positioned his head, I had to bite my bottom lip. He would hate it if I told him how similar to a dog he looked—in the cutest way. Instead, I forced myself to look away, back at the drawer I was trying to open.

  "The drawer is stuck," I said. "It won't open."

  "I'm aware of what stuck means." He squatted down and grabbed onto the drawer. "I think I can figure it out."

  He pulled it open, forcing it to break through whatever lock was holding it in its place. My eyes widened and I jumped.

  "Make it obvious we broke into her office, why don't you," I said as I pulled the drawer the rest of the way out.

  "I want her to know I was here," he said in a growl. He was standing now, moving to look at what was on her desk. He grabbed a silver picture frame, his mouth contorting into a scowl. "Who the fuck is this?"

  "Who?" I looked up from the drawer. There were only two files in it. One simply said Op: Silver Bullet while the other had nothing on it at all. I decided to grab both.

  "This asshole." He dropped the picture on the floor next to me so I could see who he was talking about.

  My eyes widened. I couldn't see that well in the dark but it looked like an attractive guy with blond hair and blue eyes. The complete opposite of Jon. And the way he was standing with Jon… They definitely knew each other on an intimate level.

  I frowned. He looked familiar, but why? I had seen him somewhere. Somewhere recently.

  Before I could answer, the door flew open. Jon growled. I pulled myself into a tight ball underneath the desk. My briefcase was on the other side. I needed those files. I clung to them, trying to shove them in the waistband of my outfit while trying to be as quiet as I possibly could.

  "Jon Hawkins," a smooth voice said as whoever it was walked through the door.

  The desk was rooted to the carpet so I couldn't even peek at his shoes. Jon kept his legs pressed against me, as if telling me to stay hidden, stay quiet. He would take care of everything else.

  "Is there a reason you're in my girl's office and not with the other dogs in the back?" he asked.

  "Am I supposed to know you?" Jon growled.

  "I guess not," the man said. For someone who was staring Jon directly in the eye, he didn't seem afraid the way other people would be. "You're a tough guy to find, you know that? I'm glad you decided to see reason and turn yourself in, though. How did you know we were here?"

  "You aren't as smart as you think you are."

  I closed my eyes. Could Jon be anymore condescending? The last thing we needed was him coming after Jon. Not that Jon couldn't take care of himself, but it wouldn't surprise me if this guy knew how to handle Jon. If this was the facility that created were-weapons, then they probably knew how to take one down if need be.

  "Perhaps not," the man agreed, "but I'm much smarter than you think I am." I heard steps coming closer. "I'm going to get a nice little bonus for bringing you in. Thank God you are so intent on getting your revenge on us. You fell into my lap quicker than Yvonne did on our first date."

  I heard Jon growl and bit my bottom lip. Now was not the time to get all macho about Yvonne when she probably never loved him anyway.

  "You got the dog tags, right? That's how you got in here? See, I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to go back for them but Yvonne knew. You sent some woman to get them for you, though. Probably a good thing. Yvonne hated every minute she was with you. She felt disgusted. You know, she would sit in front of the computer screen, doing all this fucking research on you, trying to know you and all that bullshit, but she still didn't think you would love her. She thought for sure you would be able to see how disgusted she was with herself for letting you touch her."

  Jon roared. I hugged my knees tighter to my chest. If Jon could just keep it together for a minute and use his mind to figure out a way for both of us to get out of this, that would be great.

  But I knew this stranger was already under Jon's skin.

  "I'm going to enjoy ripping your flesh from your limbs," Jon told him.

  "Not as much as I've enjoyed burying myself deep into Yvonne's tight cunt," the man replied.

  Jon lost it. It was strange. I didn't even see his body. I could tell from the way he planted his feet that he was done for. He leapt across the table, not as a wolf but a man.

  The man laughed and a shot was fired. I eyes widened and my breath left me.

  "Not so fast, Lassie," the man snapped. "Silver bullet, asshole."

  I heard Jon collapse and let out a small groan.

  "Maybe I should just kill you." I heard the man walk closer to Jon's collapsed frame. "Just tell them that I couldn't help it." I heard him ready the next bullet in his gun.

  "Wait!" I shouted, popping up onto my feet as I could. I threw my arms up, just in case he was willing to shoot me. "Don't kill him. Please."

  The man pointed the gun at me and I faltered. The man was the same one Yvonne was with, in the picture.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  Chapter 18

  "Who the hell are you?"

  I gulped. I had no idea what I was doing. I was the one who typically needed saving. Never did I do anythi
ng that saved people unless it was through my words. I couldn't fight to save my life, but I could criticize, judge, and form an opinion. I could cut someone down to their smallest size because I was good at figuring out what their weakness was.

  Maybe Robbie was right. Maybe I needed more self-defense lessons, especially if I was going to be doing things that risked my life.

  "I am Janice," I began.

  It was such bullshit. My voice gave away my lie. The tremor in the tone, the way my mouth moved around the words, like I had never said them before in my life.

  Which I hadn't.

  "You're my next victim," the agent said. At least, I thought he was an agent. He was young, probably Jon's age, with scruff on the lower half of his face and crystal blue eyes. The sort of eyes that devastated hearts. "After I finish with Jonny, here. Oh. I get it." He looked between me and Jon and a smile that matched his eyes slithered onto his face. "You're the journalist, aren't you? You know him."

  "I'm Janice," I repeated like a fucking idiot.

  "No, honey, you aren't Janice." He placed his hands behind his back and began to pace up and down the room.

  I didn't dare look down at Jon, on his back. I didn't know if he was still trying to catch his breath or if he was keeping still on purpose. I didn't want to draw any attention to him so I kept my eyes on Asher Grey. I swallowed, trying to moisten my throat. It was hard to speak when it had gone dry.

  "I think…Lara, right? Yeah, that's it. Lara. I remember because, when I was a kid, I used to play this video game. Tomb Raider. You ever heard of it? How she fit her amazing pair of tits in that itty bitty tank top, I will never know." He shrugged. "I don't care. I've never known a Lara in real life before. Until you. Lara Tucker." He stepped toward me rather than resume his pacing. "I read your articles religiously, you know. You're good."

  I cleared my throat but didn't say anything. I wasn't sure if he wanted a response but he did seem like the type to talk a lot. Interrupting him might be worse than giving him an answer he didn't ask for. I just kept my mouth shut and looked anywhere but at Jon.

  "Although," he continued, tilting his head to the side. "If I must be honest, I think you're a little biased."