by Renée Jaggér
Chapter Twelve
I sat in the back of the jet near the minibar, looking at the pictures of the scrap of fabric and the shell casing. After the shooting, the police came and took statements from Ronan, me, and everyone else in the pizzeria, meaning it was after midnight when the plane finally took off. My stomach hadn’t let me forget that I didn’t get to take a bite before I saved Ronan’s ass a second time. All I’d had to eat all day was a bag of chips I scarfed down on the plane.
The cabin lights were dim, but Ronan and Vaughn weren’t asleep. I could hear their voices at the other end of the cabin, even if I couldn’t make out what they were saying. As much as I wanted to hate Vaughn, he seemed as upset as the rest of us that someone had shot at Ronan. Since he showed up at the pizzeria, he’d been on the phone every few minutes, shouting at someone to get him surveillance footage. The police had confiscated it, of course, so we wouldn’t be seeing the footage until after they finished their investigation. They had found the fabric and the shell casing I had referenced in my report, too.
The shell casing belonged to a .308 Winchester round. That seemed useful to know unless you were aware that the .308 was one of the most common rounds in the United States, used both for military applications and deer hunting. Considering the distance and trajectory of the shot, however, I didn’t think our shooter was taking potshots at Ronan with a hunting rifle. The bullet had missed him only because I saw the flash of light in the television screen. If I hadn’t looked up right when I did, he’d be dead.
The fabric seemed more helpful. It was just a scrap of green canvas, exactly as I thought, but there weren’t many things in the world made from that type of canvas. The texture and weave of the fabric reminded me of my old duffel bag, and maybe it was. That’d be the perfect way to conceal a sniper rifle. If the shooter was fast and well-trained, he could’ve had that rifle apart and packed in the bag in seconds. He’d probably gone out a side or back entrance before I was in the building.
This was no chump off the street. He was a pro. This wasn’t the only shot that had been fired in my direction lately. There had been the one at the club. Where had that bullet gone? Into the cement wall? Maybe it was still there, or maybe the shell casing was. After two days it’d be hard to find—if I could find it at all—but maybe the police would get a match if they compared the two.
Vaughn stood and, phone to his ear, and paced toward the back of the plane. “I want the entire unit standing by when we land. Clear the entire terminal and sweep any vehicles with a direct line of sight on our landing strip.” He paused beside the minibar. “Well then, send a plainclothes squad in. You’re not going to win an argument with the TSA, and I’m not calling the President twice in one week. I have better things to do than sit on hold for an hour.” His phone beeped as he hung up. “Idiots, all of them.”
I put my phone on dark. “You know I would coordinate security on the ground if I thought it was necessary. No one is going to shoot at him at the airport. Security there is pretty tight.”
“On that, we agree, Miss Hart, but I must be seen to be doing something.” He shook his head and popped the top on another Dr. Pepper. “This is a public relations nightmare for me—first the vampire attack in Columbus, and now this. Lucky you were there with him when it happened. Meanwhile, I was stuck in Manhattan traffic.”
“Working on your investigation into what happened at Kloud9?”
“I wish all my cases were that simple. No, there were people to appease in New York too, I’m afraid.” He sipped from the can as if it were a glass of wine. “There hasn’t been much news about the Kloud9 event, nor do I expect there to be. It was an isolated attack, and the fuss about it will calm down soon enough.”
I raised an eyebrow. “An isolated event? Someone shot at him today too, Vaughn.”
“There’s no proof those two events are related—as I’ve been telling everyone else.” He waved his phone at me. “It’s unlikely a vampire would’ve used a gun, especially if he wanted to get a message across, which is the only real reason to attack someone like Ronan. He’s not a tactical target.”
“But he’s royalty. That automatically makes him a tactical target.”
Vaughn smirked. “Not as such. He’s got no stake in the court other than his blood. He’s barely involved in politics, although killing him would upset the queen. Then again, that’s not hard to do. She can be…unstable.”
I pushed up from my seat and went to the little bar. In addition to all the drinks, the bar was stocked with packaged snacks like cookies and chips. It wasn’t enough to call it a meal—that would have to wait until after we’d landed—but I was starving. I grabbed a package of chocolate chip cookies and tore it open. “Speaking of unstable, I ran into some of your people the other day.”
“My people?”
“A bunch of vampires tried to jump me outside a dance club in Columbus. Kinda funny, isn’t it? First, they’re at the place where I work, then they show up while I’m out with a friend, having a good time?”
Vaughn stared at me, unimpressed by my insinuation. “Let me be clear. I’m not in control of every vampire in the world, nor am I responsible for their actions. You drew attention to yourself when you killed one of us, Ms. Hart. Perhaps the vampire who attacked you was a friend of the one you killed.” He tipped his can as if to take another drink.
I snatched the Dr. Pepper out of his hand and placed it on the bar. “I know you know more about what’s going on than you’ve said, Vaughn. I saw the Meyer Securities van parked outside the club. That can’t be a coincidence. It also can’t be a coincidence that someone fired a shot outside the club last night. I’d be very interested to see if the ballistics match what I found at the pizzeria scene.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He took his drink back and tried to make his escape.
I swooped around the bar, blocking his exit. “You expect me to believe you’re so bad at your job that you didn’t know about the attack outside the nightclub? I know it didn’t make the news. Someone cleaned it up before it did. Your company’s van was at the scene, Vaughn. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”
He snorted and pushed past me. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
“I don’t care that a couple of your idiots roughed me up, Vaughn,” I called after him, loud enough that Ronan turned to look at us.
Vaughn froze in place, sighed, and turned around. “What do you want?”
I stepped closer so I didn’t have to shout. “I want to know what sort of bullet you recovered from the nightclub parking garage.”
“I am not at liberty to discuss internal matters with you.” He buttoned his jacket and lifted his chin.
“If someone’s taking shots at me, they might be the same person shooting at Ronan. Based on what I recovered from the scene, we could be dealing with someone dangerous. Someone who knows their way around weapons as well as I do, who looks at a city block and sees a battlefield. He looks at you and at me, and all he sees are targets in his way. Now, are you going to help me figure out who this guy is, or are you going to stand there with your plausible deniability, looking like an incompetent asshole?”
He narrowed his eyes and sipped his Dr. Pepper, buying himself a minute to think it over. After a long stare-down, he bought his phone back out, hit a button, and put it to his ear. “This is Vaughn. Did you run the ballistics for the parking garage incident yet? I see. Yes. Understood. Thank you.” He hung up and tucked the phone back into his breast pocket. “The bullet that was recovered appears to have been a .308 round. Not very useful information, but there you have it.”
“That’s more useful than you realize.” I slid back into my seat, crossing my arms. “It’s the same type as the shell casing I found in the building across from the pizzeria. It could mean it was the same shooter.”
“Or it could mean nothing.” Vaughn eyed Ronan carefully. Ronan was watching our conversation with interest. “It’s one of the most common bullets
in the world, used by law enforcement, big game hunters—”
“And would-be fae prince assassins, it would seem,” Ronan added, leaning on his fist.
“There’s more.” I hopped back up, passed Vaughn, and went to sit across from Ronan, holding out the scrap of canvas I’d found. “I think this is part of a duffel bag. It’s a military issue duffel bag. Could be what the shooter is carrying his weapon around in.”
Ronan took the scrap of fabric and turned it over. “What does that mean? He’s in the military?”
“Maybe.” I shook my head. “Hard to say. You can buy those things at military surplus stores, so it could belong to someone playing at being a soldier, or just someone with good taste in duffel bags.”
Vaughn grunted.
I ignored him. “We can draw some conclusions about the shooter with this information, though. It’s enough to make me worry that you’re right about being in serious danger. I’d like to call in some extra security once we get back. Maybe I should stay there. Supervise and get to know the rest of the team.”
I hadn’t met the part-timers on Ronan’s security team yet, but I had glanced at their dossiers on the plane earlier. They weren’t former military, but they had limited security experience. Both were guys, and young enough this was probably just a paycheck for them on the weekends and overnights while they got through college. While their files suggested they took the job seriously enough to keep Ronan alive, I didn’t think either of them would jump in front of a bullet for him.
That’s what I did earlier, I realized for the first time. I hadn’t even thought about it. I could’ve died.
Ronan sighed. “I think it’ll be good for you to get to know the rest of the team, but maybe not tonight. I’m exhausted. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll keep the shutters closed. With all the security in place at the house, it should be enough to keep anyone from getting in. Besides, if anything happens, they’ll hit the panic button, and you’ll be alerted on your phone.” He patted my shoulder. “You should get some sleep. I need you in top condition tomorrow.”
“Why? What’s happening tomorrow? Another photoshoot?”
“No.” He relaxed limply into the seat. “Good thing too. I need a day to recover. But considering everything that’s going on, I’d rather have you at one hundred percent tomorrow than running on empty tonight.”
“I’ll speak to your mother,” Vaughn offered.
“I couldn’t care less what you do, Vaughn. Just get this settled before it gets farther out of control. I don’t like being this close to court politics. The sooner we can put all this behind us, the better for us all.”
The seatbelt light came on. Vaughn took his seat, and we all strapped in for the landing. I looked out the window, taking in the Columbus skyline in the dark and wondered how the hell I’d gotten myself into this mess.
Chapter Thirteen
After we touched down, Vaughn met with his people, collected them, got into one of his company vans, and sped away without saying much to us. Ronan and I piled into the back of the waiting car. He was so tired, he fell asleep on the short drive across town. I wasn’t far behind him. Of course, I couldn’t pass out as soon as we got back. I needed to get in my car and drive back to the loft.
I checked the time on my phone. If I drove five over the speed limit, I could be home in time to get two whole hours of sleep before I had to be back up and ready for work. So much for one hundred percent functionality. Oh, well. I’d survived longer on less sleep while I was overseas.
We came to the gate, and the car stopped. It took me a minute to realize the driver was waiting for one of us to open it with the app on our phones. Ronan had fallen asleep, so it was up to me. I fumbled to get my phone out and press the gate open button.
I groaned as we pulled up to the door and I got a good look at the house. None of the lights were on, and there weren’t any cars in the guest parking area except for mine. The night guard hadn’t shown up for his shift. One day on the job, and my employees were already testing my patience.
Ronan woke up with a sharp intake of breath as soon as the car stopped. “Are we back?”
“Stay here for a minute.” I opened the door.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
I gestured to the parking area. “The night guard’s car isn’t here. I’ll check out the house and give you the all-clear to enter if it’s safe.” I was so going to look into hiring more guards in the morning. I had to keep leaving him alone to do my job, and that wasn’t acceptable. I also realized being a soldier and a security guard were not the same as being a bodyguard, so I was going to look into getting some training, or at least find time to read Walter’s book.
With my flashlight out, I went to the front door and used my phone to unlock it. I was starting to love how much I could do with that phone, but that also meant anyone with the right password could do the same.
The front room was empty. I switched on the light and went to the next part of the house, moving through the rooms one by one to check for intruders. It was unlikely anyone was in there. If the front door or the gate had been opened while we were away, both Ronan and I would’ve gotten a notification on our phones. But there were vampires in the world now, and other things. Who knew if all the monsters out there needed a door to get in?
I walked into the kitchen and reached for the light. A flash of white sailed through the air, straight for my face. On instinct, I held my hand out. Just before hitting me, the buzzing white dispersed around me, spreading and crackling into a dome of ice. I pulled my gun and fired, shattering the ice in front of me, but not before another shot careened out of the darkness toward me. I caught it like a ball and watched in wonder as the magic spun in my palm, forming a thin coat of frost over my skin. It lasted only a moment before the spell fell apart, melting like ice.
I readied for another attack.
“What the hell’s going on in here?” Ronan hit the light switch to my right.
The intruder was a tall woman with pale, delicate features. She wore a sparkling blue dress in a style that wasn’t common outside renaissance faires. Bright red hair fell in tight coils over her shoulders. She stood with one arm outstretched, her face twisted with malice.
Ronan blinked. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
Mom? I looked from the intruder to Ronan. She didn’t look old enough to be his mother, but then again, they were fae. Maybe they didn’t age like normal people. If I looked hard enough, I could see the similarities in their features.
Then it dawned on me what I’d done. I’d pulled my gun and aimed it at a faerie queen.
“Put that down.” Ronan pushed my gun toward the floor.
I stumbled through trying to explain myself. “I thought—I mean, she was—”
“She’s not going to hurt me any more than she already has.” Ronan grunted and went to the stove to get the kettle. “If we’re going to stand around, let’s at least have some tea.”
“Yes,” said the faerie queen, “and you can introduce me to your…” She rolled her hand as if she were trying to think of the word. “Well, she doesn’t look like one of your conquests.”
“Callie, Mab. My mother. Mom, Callie Hart, my new head of security.” Ronan mumbled through the introductions while he filled the kettle and put it on the stove.
“Security?” Mab lifted her chin and reevaluated me. “I see.”
“Speaking of security, why isn’t David on shift?” I asked, folding my arms.
Mab dismissed my question with a wave of her hand. “I gave him the night off. Now, Ronan, we need to talk about this Callie girl. She doesn’t bear the mark of a court.”
“I’m aware of that, Mother.”
“And she threw my spell back at me.”
“I saw.”
“You know I’m standing right here, right? I can hear everything you’re saying.” I holstered my gun and flashlight.
Mab chose to ignore me in favor of going to Ronan. She spun him around and
took his face in her hands. “Let me look at you. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten to see you, my son. I’ve almost forgotten what you look like.”
He batted her away. “We just talked two days ago!”
“A video chat is not the same thing as a face-to-face meeting!”
“I’m too busy to fly up to see you all the time. You know that.” He tried to escape by going to the fridge and opening it.
Mab waited on the other side of the open door, arms crossed. “Yes, busy flitting around the country and posing half-naked for humans to gawk at.”
“We’ve discussed this, Mother. Modeling is my job, and I like my job.” He closed the fridge, a jug of milk in hand. “I’m not quitting because you don’t like it.”
I cleared my throat. “Look, if you’re safe, Ronan, maybe I should—”
“Have some tea first. It’ll help you wake up for the drive home.” He gave me a desperate look. Poor guy really did not want to be left alone with his mother, but I wasn’t sure what help I’d be.
Still, he was my employer, and I had saved him from an assassin earlier in the day. The least I could do was be there for moral support. “Okay. Am I still on the clock?”
“Yes,” Ronan replied.
“No,” Mab snapped at the same time.
Ronan glared at her. “Last I checked, I pay my own employees, and you have no say in that, Mother.”
“And the last I checked, you enjoy your comfortable lifestyle at my pleasure. One word from me and you’ll actually need to work for a living, son.” She gave him a vicious smile.
Ronan sighed, crossed his arms, and leaned against the counter. The two of them stared each other down until the tea kettle whistled. Ronan turned his back to her, busying himself making three cups of tea. “Why are you here?” He held a cup out to her.
“I heard about the assassination attempt in New York, of course.” Mab took the tea and retreated a safe distance, standing halfway between Ronan and me. She blew on her cup, and it frosted over. “I tried to call, but you rejected all my attempts. Since Walter’s gone, I couldn’t call him, so I decided to come down and see you. It’s been eight months since we spoke in person, Ronan. You look thin. Have you been eating?”