by Tina Moss
“What would you know about doing the right thing, you miserable drunk?” she shouted. Crazy. His mother had gone crazy. It was the only explanation for her arguing with his father. No one argued with father. Ever.
Screams. Gut-wrenching, awful screams filled his ears. He didn’t move. His legs froze as if carved of ice. He stuffed his fist into his mouth to keep from crying out. Collapsing, he sunk to the thick carpet and hugged his legs into his chest. He was small for an eight-year-old, a fact his father liked to remind him of daily. As he spied the narrow space between his bed and the floor, he willed his tiny body to unfurl and lay flat on his stomach, then he wriggled under the frame until hidden from view by the dust ruffle.
Bang. Thump. Scream. The pattern repeated over and over. Bang. Thump. Scream. Eventually the screams altered to moans, then whimpers, then silence. A final slam, a door slam, and the house shook again.
Talon didn’t know how many seconds, minutes, hours passed before he found the courage to pull himself from under the bed. But when he finally did, and walked to the living room, he wished he’d never gotten up.
His mother lay sprawled over the remains of the coffee table. Her head cocked at an awkward angle. Caught in a shift, her hands curved into lethal claws, but each finger bent backward. He wanted to look away, needed to, but his gaze traveled down her battered body to the floor.
Blood. So much blood. The thick reddish brown liquid seeped into the carpet, creating a stain he knew would never disappear.
He screamed. Mother had told him to stay quiet, but what she said no longer matter. She would never speak again, so he screamed and screamed and screamed.
“My gods, Talon.” Sera’s hands covered her mouth. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.” Those gentle fingers reached for him and squeezed his arm. He gripped the steering wheel, not able to look her in the eye. “What happened after she...after...?”
“The trial went on for months, but eventually the jury convicted my father of murder.” The windshield blurred before his eyes. Were those tears? No, he wouldn’t let them fall. “The judge gave him life, and even that didn’t seem enough.” He shook off her hold and swiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Damn emotion. No...no. He wouldn’t think like that. “Bram raised me. I went into the academy. The PCD taught me the importance of duty, honor. Emotions had to be stamped out. Feelings were a commodity I couldn’t afford.”
“The PCD taught you that?”
“No, my father. He taught me.” He finally looked at her, expecting to find pity in her face. Instead, he found a compassion and understanding that nearly undid him. “Shifters are volatile by nature, but my father was more so. It’s in me, Sera. This need...these urges. If I don’t squash down my emotions, I could end up hurting, killing the people that matter most. I can’t afford to care about anyone.”
“But you do feel.” She placed her warm palm on his knee. “You care about your team. You care about justice for the victims. You couldn’t do your job, if you didn’t feel.” Her breath hitched. “You’re not cold, Talon. Hot and cold, yes. Not all cold.”
“I don’t want that. I don’t want to push people away. I don’t want to push you away.” He met her gaze. The sky drifted from a burnt orange to a deep blue, casting her face in evening light. “I’m sorry, Sera. I never meant to hurt you.”
“It’s, well...it’s not okay. But I get it. I do.” Sera’s eyes filled with fire. “And I’m glad you’re here.”
His muscles relaxed. Tension that had plagued him fell in the span of a heartbeat. He reached across the car and pulled her into his arms. “I am, you know,” he whispered in her ear. “Here for you, I mean.”
“I know.” She buried her face against his chest. “And I’m here for you too.” Her hair tickled his neck. “I’m glad you told me about your family. I’m so sorry for your pain, but it helps me understand you better.” She pulled back a bit and wrinkled her nose. “Not that it excuses your behavior, mind you. You’ll have to make it up to me.”
“You’re right.” He grinned wolfishly, determined to lighten the mood. “Ever been to the Grand Lux Hotel?”
“No.” Her eyebrows rose. A scowl crossed her face. “What did you have in mind?”
He waved a hand helplessly. “Not what you’re thinking.” He shook his head. “Well, maybe a little, but not entirely. The place is special.”
She snorted. “What’s so special about it?”
“It just happens to be the nicest hotel in District Eight.” He cranked the radio to an old rock station. “And a safe house.”
“A hotel that’s a safe house?” She blushed and damn if it wasn’t adorable. He started the car, hoping to hell she’d forgive him. Cause he so wanted to make it up to her. Her head cocked to the side. “How’s that possible?”
He laughed. The sound mixed with the radio’s rock anthem of drums and bass guitar. “I could tell you, but it’d ruin the effect.”
“All right then.” Her scent spiked, wreaking havoc on his self-control. She grinned and propped her feet on the dash again. “Show me.”
Chapter Nineteen
108 Stone Blvd, Calgary, Alberta
Jame sucked her teeth at the powerhouse white Dodge Charger. The car bellowed when Slick revved the engine. She’d nagged him for a stealth vehicle to investigate the newest lead, but he’d insisted on this stick-out-like-a-sore-thumb hunk of tin. He claimed if the address turned out to be hot, they’d need the extra zero to sixty in six seconds the Hemi V8 engine provided.
“Let’s get the show on the road, Slick.” Jame slammed the passenger door and strapped in.
“Hold up a minute. What did Valkyrie say about their hunt?” Slick fiddled with buttons. The overhead lights flicked on and off. Music blasted from the speakers.
“Stop messing around.” She pulled out her cell to decrypt the text message. Talon had given the marching orders earlier, but refused to relay the coordinates, opting for Meg’s tech skills to send the address on a secure channel. “Leads have all ended up cold. No shocker. So don’t be disappointed if this turns out to be nothing.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not banking on it.” He drummed a beat on the steering wheel, waiting for her to punch in the directions.
The text popped up after the decryption sequenced kicked in. Jame plugged the address into the GPS. Once acquired, Slick pulled out of the parking lot, casting an envious look at the headquarters for PCD District Eight. Jame turned to follow his gaze. The building’s chrome exterior gleamed in the sun’s fading light and screamed badass. The rooms inside all matched. Slick had practically salivated when he’d stuffed Drake into a holding cell complete with titanium bars.
“Bull taking care of things on his end?” Slick slanted his eyes at her.
Jame scowled back. His lips pulled into an innocent what-did-I-do expression. She wasn’t buying it. “If you mean, is Bull making sure Drake doesn’t escape his unnecessary lockdown. Then yes, Slick.” She grabbed her thighs and squeezed to control the shifter buzz. Energy poured out of her in low waves. “Bull’s taking care of things.”
“Down, Jame.” He took one hand off the wheel to run it through his hair. “Didn’t mean to ruffle your fur. Just checking.”
“You shouldn’t have to check at all.” With her legs in a death grip, the rest of her body vibrated close to that shifting edge. “He’s not a threat. It’s stupid you think so, and even stupider Talon agrees.”
Slick scratched behind his ear, eyes fixed on the road. “Maybe some truth to that, but let’s focus.” He pulled a right at the next intersection. “Let’s say we’re about to find the perp mastermind right now. Wanna take bets on who he is?”
“Nice segue.” She breathed out slowly. The shifter vibe dulled to a subtle buzz. Flicking a hair tie off her wrist, she snapped it around her hair and tied it high atop her head. “Now, what are your terms?”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Terms?”
“For our bet.” She flipped the visor to look i
n the mirror and smooth down flyaway strands. Her lips puckered. “What do I get if I win?”
“Name your prize.”
“Hmmm.” She unlocked her seatbelt, pushing it aside to adjust her shoulder holster. The setting sun gleamed off her Glock .22. She covered it with her black leather jacket and strapped back in. “How about winner does the other’s paperwork for a month?”
Slick clicked his teeth. “Nah, Talon would never let that fly.”
“Yeah, true.” Her fingers tapped along her collarbone. She glanced outside at the rows of residential houses. The GPS was leading them into suburbanville. “How about...food runs? Winner’s responsible for picking up and paying for food runs for a month.”
“I like it.” He smiled. “Now, here’s my bet—”
She slapped the dashboard. “What ever happened to ladies first?”
“It’s to your advantage to go second.” He pulled the car around a slow moving jackass.
“Fine.” She huffed and slumped in the seat.
“Thank you.” He winked. She rolled her eyes. “As I was saying, I’m thinking our bad guy ends up being one of the Senator’s rivals.” The GPS spat out another quick curve that had him digging the wheel hard to the left. Jame mumbled at his driving skills, but he continued unperturbed. “Probably some bloodsucker with a Napoleon complex. Bet he needs the political boost to feel alive.”
“And you base this brilliant theory on?”
“On the fact Meg thinks the Senator’s being blackmailed, and Sera’s tie to the crimes back it up.” He waved a hand in the air. “Plus, we know the murders have more than one perp involved and their newbie vamps.”
“Or newbie phage.” Jame held up her index finger like a schoolteacher.
“Uh huh. Either way, the perp behind the curtain definitely has something against Sera’s father.” He slowed the car. The GPS indicated their destination imminent. “And I wouldn’t be surprised at all to find a master vamp behind a newbie bloodsucker army.”
Jame shook her head. “So you think some unknown master vampire with a Napoleon complex and a boner for politics is raising a bunch of newbies to blackmail the Senator and go after his daughter?” She cast a glance over the road as darkness descended. “That’s pretty damn ridiculous.”
His cheeks hollowed as if he’d sucked on a lemon. “Ok, genius. What’s your theory? That no good bloodsucker tell you anything about his bloodsucker friend.”
“Numb nut, cool it with the bloodsucker talk. They’re not all bad.” She swatted his arm.
His brows pulled together, but he nodded. “Sure.”
“Anyway, if you’re talking about Drake, then yeah, he gave me some intel.” Heat crept to her cheeks. He muttered a curse under his breath, but she pretended she hadn’t heard him. “He said we should be looking at phage as our suspects. He claims since the victims were drained of blood it points as evidence to the phage.”
“How so?” Slick’s curiosity would win out every time, even over his hate for vampires—or at least one vampire. Sometimes it was hard to tell if his prejudice extended to them all or just the one.
“Well, apparently phage eat raw flesh, but can’t drink blood.” She sniffed the air as Slick put the car in park.
“Wouldn’t that put vamps firmly in the suspect category?” Casting some sniffs of his own, he shifted to the bloodhound’s nose.
She tried not to laugh at the dog’s wide nostrils on his face. “No. Considering the victims had pieces of their flesh torn like animal attacks, it’d put the phage as suspect number one.” A pickup truck barreled down the street. They waited for it to pass, before exiting the car. “They’d have to drain the blood first...before feeding.”
“If that’s true, then where did the blood go? Wouldn’t it have been on the floor or something?” As they approached the walkway, Slick took the lead and motioned for her to guard his back.
His taking point put her hackles up, but she was the better shot. Smarter to cover him. “Good point. But my money’s still on newbie phage as our perp murderers and maybe a political rival as the head douchebag.” She tapped his shoulder and pointed toward the house at the end of the block. “Although, I wouldn’t necessarily rule out someone with a grudge against Sera herself. It may have nothing to do with her father.”
“Then, why the blackmail? Guess we’ll just have to wait and see who’s right.” He nodded at her direction.
The house was coated in pale siding and sat on a wide cul-de-sac. The front door and windows possessed iron bars that appeared out of place with the quiet residential neighborhood. A set of dilapidated wood steps led up to a worn porch. Jame spotted the 108 in white letters over the mailbox, ensuring they had the right place.
“Hopefully, we won’t have to wait long to see who wins our bet.” She held up a finger to her lips, whispering, “Let’s scope this out first. I’ll go right, you go left, and we’ll meet around back.”
“Works for me.” Slick palmed his gun and aimed it at the ground, taking off down the left side.
Unease settled around Jame as she worked her way along the right side of the home. Nine times out of ten, her weapon of choice was her shifting abilities, but today the touch of firepower in her grip gave her a measure of comfort. A buzzing nagged at the back of her mind. Something’s off.
She sucked in the air, capturing every scent. The night surrounded her cool and crisp, calling to her shifter nature. Moisture clung to the unkempt lawn, making the grass smell fresh and wild. Insects moved between the green blades, tiny sentinels tracking her motions. She put her back to the wall and proceeded with measured steps.
So quiet. She peered into the darkness, watching her feet to avoid walking on anything that would risk breaking the silence. Crouching, she stalked along the ground like a fox. Only the faint scuffle of rubber on dirt betrayed her movements. Looks like no one’s home.
Her eyes shot upward. A soft breeze fluttered a curtain beside the window above her head. The motion drew her gaze to the wood ledge. A potted plant rested upon it, bringing the fragrance of lilies. The cracked window gave no more than two inches of space, but it would be an ideal way in, if not for the bars. “Damn it.”
A faint aroma wafted toward her, but between the flowers and the damp grass, she couldn’t get a fix enough to identify it. She snorted and pressed on. Spotting no other entry points, she rounded toward the back of the house. Slick stood waiting for her with his hands crossed over his chest.
“Seems we came all this way for nothing.” His gun rested safe in its holster. Jame would have preferred it gripped in his hands. The unease continued to scratch at her mind. “Lights are all out. Windows are barred. And we don’t have a warrant.”
“When has that stopped us before?” She raised her eyebrows, feigning nonchalance, but couldn’t stop her gaze from sweeping over the backyard and the house. Everything appeared mundane—small square shed, small square porch, small square yard, plain suburban home. So, why did ice trickle down her spine?
“True.” He palmed his gun, much to her relief, and waved toward the back door. “Come on.”
She didn’t move an inch. “Don’t want to knock on the front?”
“Why? To let the whole neighborhood know we’re here?” His foot rested on the porch step as he pivoted toward her.
“Right.” The gnawing grew stronger as if a spider crawled inside her skull. “Slick, hold up a minute. Let me go first.”
“Why should you have all the glory?” He laughed low, then stopped.
Her body tensed, the urge to get the hell out of there too strong to fight.
“What is it?” He put a firm hand on her shoulder.
“Bad karma or something. This doesn’t feel right.” A cloud covered the moon as she spoke, bathing the simple backyard in a black wash. The shed loomed out of the darkness like a phantom. The porch grew bigger as if it would swallow up her partner. The yard tripled in size making escape so far away. What is this, a panic attack? You’re second-in-co
mmand and lead on this bust. Ease off the paranoia.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He pulled her by the elbow, forcing her feet into motion. “Happens to all of us.”
“I have it under control.” She shrugged and tried to shake off the feeling. “Go ahead. I got you covered.”
Jame followed him up the porch steps, scanning the surrounding area for a sign of what was bugging her. The wind swirled about the yard, kicking up stray leaves and tantalizing her with new scents. She blocked out everything and focused on the task. Her eyes snapped to the door handle as Slick turned the knob and found it unlocked.
“Hell and a half,” he said, snatching his hand away. “That’s weird. Barred windows, but an open back door?” He brought his gun to chest level and aimed at the door. “Move back a step. I’m not taking chances.” His fingers curled around the knob again. “On three. One...two...”
Time ceased in an instant. As Slick called out three and the door creaked open, the odor hit her and realization smacked her upside the head. The nagging in her mind exploded into clear awareness as the door blew to fragmented bits of wood and metal. A fireball erupted and the last thought to register through her consciousness, the last piece of the puzzle that had escaped her was the oily scent that had been masked by the fragrant night. It all tied together in a single word—bomb.
Chapter Twenty
Grand Lux Hotel, Calgary, Alberta
“Flippin’ A. This is definitely not Kansas.” Sera’s eyes widened like oversized tires. She spun in a circle, almost stumbling into the granite covered concierge desk.
Talon suppressed a smile. Every second in her company hacked a piece from the carefully constructed wall around his heart. Her voice alone made him want to shirk his duty—honor be damned—and carry her to his bed. Watching her gasp in awe at the hotel’s opulent lobby reminded him of her gasps in a far more intimate setting. His body hardened in response.