“Who are all those slimy people in there?” Asia took note of herself. “Uck, what happened?” She slung her arms. “It looks like Godzilla sneezed on me.”
“We need to find a way out.” Basing her direction on the doors of the container, Sid scanned the parking garage the way she remembered it. Lucky for them, part of the interior support hadn’t completely given way, but she couldn’t see any part of the stairwell or elevator. The ramp leading out of the garage had collapsed. Half the first floor lay inside the garage, covering the shipping container. It gave Sid a chill. If not for the container, they’d all have been crushed.
She climbed over the debris. A light flashed in the corner of her eye. She turned. A light beam glowed where the garage doors closed. She waved her arms and yelled, “Hey! Help!”
Asia mimicked her calls.
“Hey! Help!”
Sid made her way over the scrap-heap structure. Debris sprinkled down into the garage where the ramp dropped off from the outside entrance. Someone was on the other side scooting the rubble aside. When the chunk of cement cleared, a man poked his head inside. He shined a light in her face.
“Sid?”
“Cyrus?”
“Holy crap! I should have known I’d find you here. Are there any other survivors?”
“A bunch. Including Ted—and Rebecca.”
***
Cyrus sat beside Rebecca, who was shivering in a blanket. Mal was with Asia, and the pair of them were doing the same. Ted hunched under his blanket next to Sid, not saying much. The FBI had spent hours getting the survivors out of the ruined building. All the walls and windows had been blasted out, but the structure still stood, a skeleton frame of its former self.
Cyrus kissed Rebecca’s head. “I’m so glad you’re alive. The other you died. I thought you and the baby were gone forever.”
With a quizzical look, Rebecca said, “Baby?”
Sid’s hand went to her abdomen.
Mal eyed her. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m just worried about Smoke. Can we talk for a moment?”
Mal looked at Asia.
“Go ahead. I’m fine now,” the little woman said. “Just hungry. Don’t these ambulances have any food? I want some fish sticks. And beer. Hey, big boy, you got any beer? You look like a drinker,” she said to an agent.
After moving to a more private area, Sid caught Mal up with everything Reginald had told her about being pregnant. “And the baby? Can we run a test and find out?”
“Of course we can,” he said with a reassuring look. “It won’t take long to run it through a lab.”
Her fingers dug into her palms. Life had been turned inside out again. She was faced with more questions than answers. And Smoke was gone. Her heart ached. “We have to find him.”
“He’s resourceful. I’m sure we will.” He took her by the shoulders and squeezed them. “I can’t thank you enough for saving Asia. For saving all of them. It’s like a miracle, Sid. A victory. I swear, you can also count on me. With the clones gone, we’ve mortally wounded them.”
“I know, but it feels hollow to me. They took Smoke. Vormus and Manson are gone. I want to know when the bodies are found. And what about A.V., Toad Man, and Night Bird? Do we still have eyes on them?”
“They were all secure last I checked a few hours ago.”
“Good. We just need to figure out what to do with them.”
An FBI sedan sped through the front gate. The tires ground to a stop on the shattered rubble and glass. The driver, Agent Jonnie Wok, exited with Smoke’s rucksack in one hand and the Arabian sword in the other.
Sid rushed him.
Agent Wok made his way over to Cyrus. His eyes widened on Sid.
“Where did you get that?” she said.
“A few miles up the road. An SUV crashed over the hill.”
“Did you see any other sign of Smoke?”
“No, but something got splattered all over the tracks. It looked like a man got hit by a train. Agents are still picking up the remains.”
Sid’s heart sank.
Jonnie Wok held out a sheet of paper folded up like a note. “I found this.”
Sid’s name was written on the note. She took it and opened it. The note read:
“Dear Sister, we have Smoke. Changes are coming. Once you’re gone, he will be mine… Forever. Allison.”
Smoke Happens: Book 9
CHAPTER 1
Sid woke up gasping. She sat up, peering through the darkness. Tears streaked down her cheeks. Her body trembled. A chill fell over her. She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms and noticed that her fingers were icy cold. She reached for the glass of water on her nightstand. Her fingers wrapped around the smooth glass, she brought it to her lips and gulped the warm water down. She set the glass back on the stand and turned the lamp on.
Smoke’s apartment—or rather, their apartment—was fully furnished but seemed empty. The warmth was gone. The sheets were damp and cold, no longer warmed by their bodies lying together. She covered her shoulders with the blanket. Her bare feet hit the cold floor. Picking up her phone, she checked the time. 3:08 a.m.
“Morning glory.”
Sleep hadn’t come easy the past couple of weeks since she’d last seen Smoke. There hadn’t been a word from Kane or Allison, either. Everything had gone silent, but her head was ringing. She shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the light, squinting against its glare. Head down, she turned the sink spigots on and rinsed off her face. Drying her face off, she checked the mirror. There were puffy rings under her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked or felt so bad. She placed her hand over her womb.
“I thought I was supposed to get a glow with a bundle in my belly.”
Sid turned off the bathroom light, tossed the blanket on the bed, made her way over to the kitchenette, and filled the empty coffee pot with water. She tossed out the old filter full of coffee grounds and filled a new one with freshly roasted ground beans from a bag. Seconds later, the coffee was brewing. She pulled up a barstool and watched the pot begin to fill. The entire time, she was thinking about John. John and the baby. Her heart ached.
She’d spoken with Mal Carlson about her pregnancy a few days after they lost Smoke at the clone factory. She was supposed to get some bloodwork done. Mal seemed confident that he would be able to determine if the baby was Smoke’s or not. The test would be easy, the answer simple, but she was avoiding it. In her heart, she felt the baby was hers and Smoke’s. The child would be their son or daughter. But what if she was wrong? That was the hard part. According to Kane and the shifters, if she carried Kane’s baby, she would die before labor. Her fist clenched in and out. Her teeth started to grind.
Please, God, let this baby be mine and Smoke’s.
The coffee pot was full. The fresh aroma filled the room. The smell was strong to her heightened senses. Smells and scents were now almost alarming from time to time. It had taken her weeks to get used to the smell of coffee, and there were some things she couldn’t tolerate. Perfumes were a slap in the face. Bacon—which she and Smoke had often lived on—now repulsed her. As for potatoes, in any shape or form, she had a hankering for those most of the time.
She fetched a ceramic mug out of the kitchen sink and filled it to the brim. Taking a sip, she turned her attention to the newspapers lying on the kitchenette island. The Washington Post was on top of the pile. The main headline on the front page of section one was “Shake Up under the Dome!” The picture was Senator Augustus Wilhelm being taken into an ambulance in a straightjacket. According to the article, he’d flipped out at a bill-signing session and attacked several of his cohorts. But he had escaped the hospital, and as of now, his whereabouts were unknown.
Sid huffed. The man in the picture wasn’t Wilhelm but a shifter. She’d found Wilhelm alive in the clone factory. The Bureau had the real Wilhelm now. At least, she thought so. Staring at the picture of Wilhelm’s clone, she thought, I’m not sure if bringing him
back would be a good thing or not.
Other people were back in the fold. Agent Rebecca Lang had been a clone, and now the real one was back. Sid’s old boss Ted Howard was alive and well. Mal’s wife, Asia, had also been saved. Sid hadn’t stuck around to see how things sorted out. All she wanted to do was find Smoke. And when she did, would she even know it was him?
From underneath the copy of the Post, Sid pulled out a copy of Nightfall D.C. The monthly newsletter was more of a tabloid than a real news source, but the front-page headline was also catchy. WASHINGTON GOES BATTY! There was a laundry list—with pictures—of dozens of federal, state, and local officials who had suddenly died from “unknown circumstances” or “gone missing.” Sid didn’t recognize hardly any of the names, but she knew enough of them to know that they were clones. Maybe shifters. How deeply the Drake had penetrated the ranks of leadership left a pit in Sid’s stomach.
There were several bizarre stories about what happened to some of the people before they died. Many of them attacked others. A couple streaked naked in the streets. One woman, a county clerk, was found chasing after deer on a golf course. A federal legal attorney had torpedoed his car through a dry cleaners in a strip mall. Not a single one of these stories had been picked up by the local news channels, so anyone would question whether there was any truth to what Nightfall D.C. reported at all. Sid knew better. The scary thing was that Nightfall D.C. didn’t know the half of it.
She’d drunk her coffee about halfway down when she felt a little kick. “Oh my, good morning.” Her fingers spread out over her belly. “It’s good to know I’m not all alone. Maybe someone is getting hungry. How about some fried potatoes?”
With a smile on her face, Sid lit the gas on the stove and set the pan down.
The glare of headlights illuminated the curtains covering the kitchen sink window. Tire rubber ground over the old blacktop. Brakes creaked to a stop.
Sid grabbed her Glock from the kitchen counter. She didn’t hear any car doors open or close. The car’s engine kept running.
Her heart jumped at the sound of hard knocking at her door.
CHAPTER 2
Smoke sat on an old metal prison cot that creaked with his every move. The room he was in was a square twenty by twenty with a concrete floor. The only difference between it and a huge jail cell was the way the concrete walls were painted, by a skilled hand. It looked like he was inside his garage apartment. His computer and desk were on one wall, the kitchenette on another. There was the back wall with the French doors leading to the rear, and the front door. The details were spot on, from the hinges on the old cabinets to the music CDs stacked up by the computer to the pillows on his sofa. Aside from the stuffy hot air and the steel bars for a front door, everything was down to the letter.
Scratching the scruff on his swollen jaw, he stood up with a groan. The old springs in the cot groaned along with him. He made military corners on the mattress with the green military blanket. There wasn’t much need for a blanket, hot as it was. All it did was catch his sweat. Without having seen the day or night, his best guess was that he’d been imprisoned for ten days. They’d been long ones, but that wasn’t the worst of it. He’d been drugged.
He paced the room. His stomach rumbled. They’d given him food, but he wasn’t eating. He was only drinking the water, as little as he could. It had a taint to it. Fighting the hunger and the weakening in his limbs, he did a few calisthenics and some push-ups. He finished up in a layer of sweat that coated the drab grey prison jumper he wore. Taking a seat Indian style, he closed his eyes. The distinct click of hard heels on tiled floor caught his ear, reminding him of the day he first met Sid. He turned his head toward the door. Sweet perfume widened his nostrils. On the outside of the cell door, Allison’s body filled his eyes.
“Hello, John,” Allison said with playful eyes. She was as mouthwatering as a woman could be. Her alluring features were enhanced by a presence that was even more carnal and vibrant. She commanded a power and sexuality he’d never seen before. “You look like you could use some company. And some food.”
She stepped back. A peacoat guard unlocked the door with a heavy key. He pushed it open and stepped aside. Allison entered with a metal-covered dish on a tray with a bottled water. She bent over, revealing the plunging neckline of her black blouse, as the guard closed the door behind her. She wore a thigh-high skirt and black designer boots that came up to her knees. The seams in her skirt stretched at the hips when she sat down on the cot.
Smoke’s mouth watered. He could smell the hot food beneath the steaming metal. His stomach growled.
“My, you must be very hungry,” Allison said, applying a layer of lipstick. “You need to eat, brother.”
“I prefer to eat out.”
“Oh come now, John, everything you could possibly want right now is here. A delicious meal. A willing woman.” She bounced the springs on the bed a little. “Let’s make some noise.”
“That’s not going to happen.” He gave her a quick glance before averting his eyes. “Ever.”
“Don’t be so sure of yourself, Smokey. I’ve always gotten everything I wanted when I put my mind to it.” She patted the cot. “Come. Sit down. I won’t bite you, unless, of course, you’d like that.”
He turned his back and faced the wall that looked like the bedroom of his apartment. His blood was churning with hunger and desire. I’ve got to hand it to her, she knows how to put the hooks in you. Be strong. Think of Sid, and your baby.
“Smokey, just sit, please. I won’t lay a finger on you.”
“It’s not your fingers I’m worried about.”
“Ah, there’s that dash of humor that women so admire. I like that.” She patted the bed again. “Either you can sit down or I can stand up. There isn’t anywhere for you to run, Smokey. I’ll catch you, even in these high heels.”
Smoke didn’t move.
“I tell you what, Smokey.” She picked the tray up and set it on her lap. “I’ll harness myself with this delightful platter of food so that I cannot make any sudden moves. Besides, you’re certainly going to want to hear what I have to say about my dear sister.”
“What about her?”
“Sit, sit.”
Smoke took a seat at the other end of the cot with his back to her, as far away as he could get. “Out with it then, Allison.”
“First things first.” She lifted the lid off the plate of food, revealing steaming prime rib and sautéed vegetables. Every item was cooked to perfection. Allison cut through the steak with the side of the fork. The meat was pink and juicy. “I bet you’ve never seen steak so tender, have you?”
“We cut meat with a saw where I’m from. A steak is not a steak without some chew to it.”
“You’re a silly man.” She held a forkful of meat just under his nose. “Eat. Enjoy while you still have a taste for such things.”
Smoke turned his nose. As badly as he needed his strength, he needed his wits about him more. He doubted the food was poisoned, but he wouldn’t be surprised one bit if it was drugged. Whatever the Drake planned to do with him hadn’t started yet, but he could sense the fight was coming. If it wasn’t, they wouldn’t have sent Allison in. “I’ll pass.”
Allison ate the steak. “That’s too bad. You’re missing out on much-needed protein. I’m trying to help you.”
“It looks to me like you’re just helping yourself.”
“As I’ve said, whatever I desire, I will have.” She leaned over and nudged him shoulder to shoulder. “You’ll see.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, sister, but you can’t always get what you want. That’s never going to change in this world, no matter how hard you try.”
“It’s working out so far.” She sawed through some asparagus and ate. “Mmm, so good. You know what would make this meal even better? Wine. I wanted to bring a bottle, but Kane wouldn’t allow it. He said you wouldn’t accept it, and he didn’t want to waste it. As if one bottle of centuries-old vino matters. I ha
ve to admit, I find myself surprised by the shifters’ attachment to material things. Of course, who am I to talk?” She flaunted the lavish jewelry that decorated her wrists and fingers. “My vices haven’t fled me, either.”
Smoke faced her.
Her hungry eyes locked on his.
“You haven’t changed, have you?”
She leaned toward him. “You can’t tell?” Her voice was a purr. “Good, that’s how I like it.”
Smoke imagined her turning into an exotic cat-lady of sorts, like Tigra from the comic books. Or Batwoman. Now that would be a show. Shame on me. Sorry, Sid. “Even if you did make the mistake of going down that road, I won’t do it. I’m not going to become an abomination.”
“Most of us have been there, Smokey. I know I certainly had my doubts, but when I tasted the power, there weren’t any regrets.” She cut into her steak and bit into the meat. Red juice dripped down the corner of her mouth. She licked it away.
Smoke’s Adam’s apple rolled.
“Give in to your hunger, Smokey. Don’t deny what you’ll need to survive. Sidney didn’t.”
Smoke eased away.
Allison set the tray of half-eaten food down. In her miniskirt, she flipped her legs over the cot from one side to the other. Sitting side by side with him now, she said, “Kane’s told me everything. I have to admit, my sister is a much naughtier girl than I imagined. She didn’t deprive herself of the pleasures Kane offered, nor should you deny yourself what I offer. Believe me, Smokey”—she toyed with his ear—“I’ll be worth it.”
CHAPTER 3
Sid peeked through the curtains. Outside was a sedan that she didn’t recognize. The heavy knocking came again. Not liking the sound of the thumping, she set down her Glock and picked up the shotgun that was propped up beside the front door. She pumped the handle and said, “Hear that? If you whack my door one more time, I’m going to turn that hand of yours into applesauce. Now, who is it?”
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 6 thru 10 (Smoke Special Edition Book 2) Page 39