I could feel myself growing flustered. What the hell am I saying? What am I thinking?
“A favor. You want a favor as an advance on the next job?”
“More like a retainer.”
“I'm curious. What do you need?”
“I want you to back-file some paperwork for me and make it look like a misplaced report. Not enough to get anyone fired, more like, why don't y'all check your inbox again. That kinda thing.”
“Did you forget to file your taxes or something?”
“Please. I know you'd know if I missed any taxes. Now, this is serious.”
I dropped the smile to emphasize how serious it was. Over another cup of chamomile, I explained what I needed. Hard to say which of us was more shocked, and by the time I finished talking, he was wholeheartedly on my side. Go team Durant! He even forgot I was standing in his safe haven with guns strapped to my hip, lurking at his back while he fiddled with the computer.
Now and then, I forgot he was a mutt.
Finally he said, “Voila. Can I sleep now?”
Sleep sounded wonderful, but I had too much to do. Rainer leaned back in his rolling chair and tossed a spent tea bag across the room into the garbage can.
“Rainer, can I ask you a question?”
“I don't think I'm going to like this.”
“Do you guys have, um…ancients? I mean, like, what's the oldest mutt you know?” I held up my hands. “I’m not fishing for names or anything, but I had a weird case. Vampires were involved, and the circumstances presented questions I'd never before pondered. How are there two thousand year-old vampires but no extremely old mutts? Presuming lycanthropy is a virus, how could humanity not have noticed any of the lykos viral clades throughout all of history?”
“A vampire case?” he said. “Tell me about it.”
“Can you keep a secret?”
“You're kidding me, right?”
“Seriously, you can't tell anyone. A cop's life might depend on it.”
“Scout's honor.” He gave me the peace sign.
“That's not how it goes, but I'll overlook it. Anyway, I came upon some dead vampires—”
“Dead vamps? You mean like truly dead, not un-dead? As in, they were completely not moving, not living, nothing?”
“Yeah.” I peaked my eyebrows. “Back to the story. They had been murdered rather gruesomely, half eaten from the heart out, and—why are you pale? Rainer, you look like you're about to faint. Sorry. I guess I shouldn't be discussing this kind of thing with you on account of the gore. Wouldn't want to spark your appetite or anything. Like waving alcohol in front of an alcoholic. Jeez, you must think I'm an ass.”
“Huh? Oh, nothing. I think...ahem. Sorry. I must be falling asleep. I—Oh, shit.”
He dropped his feet off the desk and turned the security monitor away from me. Hiding someone. The phone rang and he snatched it.
“You don't wanna be here now,” he urged the visitor. “Well, how badly do you need it? Of all the porn shops in all the world, you had to—No, that's not what I mean. Define desperate!”
“Should I go?” I said.
Rainer pointed at me. “No!”
To the phone he said, “What do you mean you have the code? Well, stop looking over my shoulder when I'm doing secretive things. No, no, stop!”
He slammed the phone on the jack, overturned the monitor, and grabbed the back of my rolling chair.
“Hey!”
“Don't take this personally, Quark,” he said, dragging the chair across the room with me in it. “You'll be safer if I lock you up.”
“Oh, hell no.” I hopped out of the chair. “And what's this 'Quark' business?”
“Trust me,” he said through his teeth. Until then, I'd forgotten his diseased-pirate ass might kill me. I heard the security door at the top of the steps slide open.
“I did trust you until you mentioned locking me up. I'm not fond of the suggestion.”
“Kaidlyn Durant,” he squeaked.
His cheeks flushed and swelled. His eyes flickered a deeper shade. His mouth bulged with the thrust of growing teeth. He was primed to shed out of fear that I'd see who was coming down those steps. I held up my palms.
“Relax. We're cool. It's all good. Stick me behind that there curtain, tell whomever is coming to go away, and then I'll leave.”
“Durant, listen to me.”
His voice dove an octave. His face fattened with thicker bones, his eyes sharpened, and the red scars sank into his neck. Shit. He turned away, fumbled with some medical supplies, and grabbed a syringe. Thinking he meant to dose me, I pulled a gun and aimed.
Rainer slammed the needle into his arm. Eyes fluttering, he swayed and grabbed his knees.
“What?” I said.
“Morphine,” he wheezed. “Burns.”
The security door opened while Rainer was bent in half, huffing, and I stood pointing a gun at him.
A moment of shock overtook both me and the newcomer.
Ghost.
Long white hair. Pearly skin. Black eyes. Flesh layered with muscle. Mouth open, the albino breathed our scent. He gaped from Rainer to me and back. His shock gave way to absolute fury. His face stretched like bubblegum as he roared and advanced.
Fuck that.
I pulled another gun: one for Rainer and one for Whitey. My fractured hand burned with the effort.
Rainer surprised us by stepping between me and the albino. Now I had two guns pointed at Rainer's back, which didn't feel right. I took a step to the side so I could watch the mountain of a mutt invading Rainer's sanctuary. Ghost's lacy white hair, long as a veil, fluttered around his broad face. He finished his roar and found words.
“You stupid, arrogant, brainless cunt!”
“Hey!” I said.
“I think he was talking to me,” Rainer said.
“Oh,” I said. “Still. Not nice, mister.”
“Nice? She wants nice? Hear that, Rainer? Well, it's all okay now, isn't it? We're nice. Nice and gonna eat your goddamn sneaky heart out, you putrid bitch.”
“I think he's talking to me now,” I told Rainer.
“Yeah, think so,” he agreed. “Neutral territory, Erik. No killing here, remember? Neutral! You swore a blood oath. Blood oath.”
“I got your blood right here,” Erik said.
“Erik?” I said. “I heard of you.”
“Oh, really? Fucking great, Rainer. Telling stories now, are you? Jesus. I'm gonna smear her entrails all over your precious neutral territory and then we'll sit down and have a little talk about things like privacy. And loyalty.”
“I've seen you before, too,” I said. “You were with Marc in the alley.”
“Marc? She knows Marc, too! Of course. Christ. What, having tea parties with feds now?”
I smiled. “Actually, we did have some tea.”
“Shut up!” they both yelled. The guns were heavy, and I wasn't going to shoot anyone quite yet. I slowly lowered the weapons but didn't put them away. Rainer stood between me and a mutt twice his size, and that act amazed me still.
Then I recalled what the albino said.
“Eating hearts out, is that your thing, Erik? You like to munch on some corazón?”
“Don't answer that,” Rainer said. “Seriously, Erik. Take a breather.”
“That's what I'm here for, a breather. A bit of calm. And yet I walk in and see you fraternizing with Princess Loves-to-shoot-mutts Durant. Imagine what that does to my calm.”
“Rattles it, for sure,” I said. “Rainer was merely helping me out with a problem. Did me a huge favor, so I kind of owe him. Certainly wouldn't shoot him for no good reason. And don't call me princess. Maybe we can all sit down and have a cup of tea?”
“No,” they both said.
“Why don't you want me to meet Whitey?” I said to Rainer. “He seems like such a pleasant bloke.”
“Jesus, it starts!” Erik wailed.
“The dripping sarcasm?” I said.
“T
he beginning of the end,” he snarled.
“Maybe I'll leave now,” I suggested.
Erik stood in front of the door and crossed arms like cement columns over his chest. No getting past his bulk. Black eyes flashing.
“Rainer, it's her or me.”
Shit.
“Maybe I only shoot him a little bit,” I said to Rainer. “Just enough to get by. Won't kill him, I promise.”
“Neutral,” Rainer hissed. Dilated pupils, flashing teeth, thickening tongue. His voice gathered a deliberate papal quality. “Neutral means no violence in my home, you heathens.”
Erik snarled. Lips stretched to reveal overly large teeth packed into his mouth like a rack of knives. Large canines, a throwback to the saber-tooth.
“My, what big teeth you have,” I murmured, trying to ignore the hair rising on the back of my neck and the dampness under my arms.
I was scared.
I'd handled a few rough mutts, but this guy felt like a freight train with teeth. He’d kill me easy, and I was trapped underground with him. Nowhere to run. My whole body ached to pull both triggers and load Erik with a kilo of silver. Unfortunately, Rainer stood between us. He seemed to think he could talk Erik down. Worse, I needed him to let me out.
Erik wasn't moving because he was on Rainer's turf. Whatever relationship they had, he was trying to salvage. Odd. He'd love to kill me. I wouldn't mind killing him one bit. Rainer stood like mediator between us. If we met in the middle, maybe we all wouldn't have to die.
My palms wet my guns. My left hand ached like the devil and my grip wavered.
Erik's bulk gained a good twenty kilos, shoulders rapidly expanding. Pink rings appeared around the black of his eyes. His eyeballs swelled and dark contacts fell, revealing his naturally rosy eyes. For some reason, the sight scared me even more.
What does an FBHS agent do with mutts when she can't shoot them?
“This is awkward,” I admitted.
“Maybe if you both called before you came over, this crap wouldn't happen!” Rainer shouted. His body blushed with distress.
“The man is right.” I shrugged. “This is an inconvenient misunderstanding.”
“Don't talk to me like I'm stupid. I see what's going on here.” Erik's tone swelled big, round, and one decibel from a yell.
“Look, I have a lot of very important things to do today, and I'm not in the mood to die in someone's basement.”
“Stop calling it a basement,” Rainer snipped.
The phone rang and Rainer sauntered over like nothing was amiss, leaving me to face Erik on my own.
Lord, he was a big boy. His pink eyes glimmered like roses at dawn, his lips wore a smirk. He leaned forward, silky white hair sliding over dewy cheekbones, imposing on my personal space even though he was still four meters away.
“Girl, you're going to die here, today, in a basement coated with mutt germs. Then my kennel and I will eat you down to the bones. I'll be flossing with your ligaments while my pups tussle over your scraps.”
Good threat. Time to shoot him.
With a little pop, Erik staggered. Like a bull with broken legs, down he went. Crash. Limp as a doornail, pink eyes rolling back in his head.
“It's not a basement!” Rainer stood by the phone with a gun in hand.
“Damn. You shot Erik. Cripes. What happened to neutrality? Nothing but a drop of blood though. Wait, what did you dose him with?”
“A Down-boy. It's a drug cocktail full of euthotabs and backed with a charge that downs a mutt for about, oh, ten dependable seconds, given his size. Get out of here. And your package has arrived at the hospital.”
He slid open the security panel and revealed the stairs.
“That dude is gonna be piiii-issed when he comes around,” I predicted, examining the large white lump.
“Guess you owe me,” Rainer said. “You can start by making a promise. Don't ask anyone about the murdered vampires ever again. Especially Erik, for certain reasons.”
We both knew what we were talking about.
“I have no idea what we're talking about,” I said.
I put the guns away, saluted, and ran up the steps before he could change his mind or Erik could wake up.
Chapter 32
I escaped into the porn shop lit with brazen sunlight. Jugs wore a sheer black robe that didn't actually hide anything and she gave me the evil eye all the way to the door. I paused to pet Rufus and then continued retreating. Adrenaline sagged and dissipated from my veins, leaving an odd fatigue and airy joy. I was still alive. I wanted to run and run and run, but I was so tired I could barely walk.
I rushed because he was waiting. An entirely illogical thought seized me: if I wasn't at the hospital, something would go wrong. They would know I lied. He would die. The doctors would turn him away. The feds would take him back. I drove like a madman, which was, of course, my style. Went to the regular ward, the one where humans stayed, which was practically a day spa in comparison to q-ward.
Dripping with adrenaline residue from my near-death meeting with Erik, I ran.
“Stop that woman!”
Sarakas’ voice.
No one dared to stop me. I must have looked a mess. Hair askew, shirt damp, three bared guns, one completely illegal and recently involved in a shooting. I skidded to a standstill and turned around.
He strode down the hallway, wearing a tank and jeans, as if my chaos interrupted his dressing. His wet hair dripped down his neck. I saw his pulse ticking in his neck, the shadow of his unshaven jaw. He looked like life incarnate, a breathing, beautiful, organic thing.
“What the hell?” he said, fresh coffee on his breath, aftershave on his fingertips.
“Can we walk and talk?” I started to run again and he grabbed my arm. Hot hands, strong. His skin was the equivalent of comfort food.
“There's no hurry, Kaid. He's in surgery.”
“How did you find out so quickly?”
“Vanessa called me. What possessed you? Didn't you think I should know about this?”
“I don't see why.” I saw precisely why. I shrugged. “I didn't see any reason to let someone talk me out of it.”
“And when did you make this monumental decision?”
I winced. “Almost three hours ago.”
“Three hours! Three?”
“Give or take. Mostly take. For the record, if they ask, I filed weeks ago. Paperwork gets lost, y'know.”
“Kaidlyn, you're great. You're a marvelous agent. A dependable soldier in the field and a good companion anytime. You've got a cute but irritating and unconventional sense of humor. On the other hand, your personal life is a mess.” He lowered his voice. “You're an alcoholic. You have a drastic temper. Your upbringing was shit. What makes you think you're ready for this?”
“I wasn’t really thinking. And don't talk about my upbringing or we're going to have a problem. If my personal life is a mess, it's partly because I have no reason for it not to be. I have no motivation to make it better. This might be that inspiration.”
“So you're using him?”
“No. Even if I’m screwed up, that doesn't mean I can't do something decent for once.”
“The amount of care—”
“I'll manage.”
“This is a lifetime commitment—”
“More like a year, tops. He's almost eighteen.”
“Tell me, is there any food in your fridge right now?”
“Olives count?”
“You have no idea what you're getting into.”
I pointed at him and said cheerfully, “On that we agree.”
“Christ!” His eyes were concerned, surprised, and mildly outraged.
I knew exactly how he felt.
“I can't explain it,” I said.
Which was, ironically, all the explaining I had to do.
“Something tinged off your heart for once,” he said.
“Mild ricochet. No severe damage.”
“Did you have breakfast yet?”
“No,” I whined.
“I'll bring you something with lots of bacon.”
I love you, I thought, but didn't dare say. Not even in jest or whatever. Sarakas was my best friend, and male-female friendship was a tenuous thing. We were fine right now. I was happy for him. Glad he'd found someone appropriate, like Vanessa, and grateful he still counted me among friends.
I rushed down the corridor, drowning in astonishment. I couldn't believe my plan worked. I couldn’t fathom how I got out of the basement alive. I met Erik and survived. Insanity of insanities, I was now in cahoots with at least one mutt. I owed Rainer, he owed me, and we could both die over this. The perfect start of a good pirating relationship.
I took a tight corner and ran smack into an older man. A foot shorter than me, twice as wide, and as intimidating as hell.
“Eek,” I said. A very appropriate greeting for my lawyer. I pointed in the direction I was heading as if I could slip by him. Wishful thinking.
“What's so urgent? I don't see you bleeding,” Caprelan said. He was an old, Italian bull of a man, densely packed into a classic suit. His half frown and descending brow spoke volumes as he examined me. “Must you constantly get yourself into trouble?”
“Well, this time, someone else is in trouble. So there.”
He chuckled. “Usually when you ask me to meet you at the hospital, it’s because you started a street brawl. Coincidentally, I see your hand is bandaged. What do you need, Kaidlyn?”
“Adoption papers.”
He choked on thin air, cheeks puffing, the first time I'd ever seen him surprised. And I gave him plenty of opportunity with various assault charges, restraining orders, property claims, etc.
“Say again?” he blustered.
“You're so cute,” I said.
“Swear to God, little lady, if you don't tell me—”
To shut him up, I hugged him. Hard and completely in earnest. His suit felt like a time when my dad was in the service and my mother danced the waltz across the kitchen and listened to polka on Sunday mornings. He smelled like Old Spice even though it wasn't in style and I knew he shaved with a single folding blade, exactly like my dad.
“What's this about?” he demanded, wary.
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