“It’s not gonna be that easy,” he heard Fallon state, but this time she had an edge to her voice. She was irritated.
“It shouldn’t be easy,” he replied. “You won’t learn anything if it’s easy. Get that information, Fallon—two days, understand?”
“Yes, Sire,” she growled. “Two days.”
She hung up with a curse she probably thought he didn’t hear. Michael laughed as he jumped on the freeway and headed toward Ashblood Manor. The Mistress needed his advice on something and he was in no position to refuse.
As the red Porsche roared past everyone else on the road, Michael thought about Fallon Andrade, that dark-haired, green-eyed beauty from Southern Ireland who everyone told him was a waste of his time—as far as making a decent bodyguard out of her. She was too unpredictable they all said. But Michael found he liked that about her.
Fallon was not the most popular candidate for the open spot at Gale Enterprises, but she wanted the spot more than anyone else. Every shit job that came down the pipe, she took. You had to admire that, at least.
As he drove up the long private drive to the valet, he told himself he had made the right decision. She’d get the job done and keep Alex safe. Michael tossed the keys to the attendant and took the briefcase from his grip.
Ashblood looked regal and quiet at this hour. As he entered the foyer, he reminded himself that this little favor wouldn’t release him from his deal regarding Alex Stone. He was sure he’d have to kill a president to repay that debt.
Chapter 9
“Well,” Erin said with an adjustment to the round glasses on her nose. “You were right. Detective Fallon Andrade, age 34, born in Dublin in 1982 to a Brazilian Diplomat and his Irish wife. Pretty boring stuff on her life there. The trail here doesn’t pick up ‘til about six months ago.”
Alex paced in front of the glass wall of her office as Erin sat on the small loveseat to give her report on Andrade. Going over that afternoon’s events in her mind, Alex knew something was missing. As she sipped from the less than cold bottle of water in her hand, Erin nibbled on the sandwich and waited for Alex to start up the conversation.
“So there’s no transfer records—no police academy records,” Alex practically whispered. “Nothing that connects her to this place at this time.”
“Nope,” Erin sighed with another small bite of the veggie sandwich. “Sorry, boss.” Her fingers sailed over the keys again then stopped. “Hold up. I’ve got a death certificate from six years ago. Looks like your lady cop died in a car accident in London in 2010.”
Alex spun around and leaned over the back of the couch for a better look. Andrade’s hair, a brassy blonde color then, was pulled back into a schoolgirl ponytail. The wicked smirk and dazzling green eyes reminded Alex of someone with bad things on their mind. The senior cycle picture looked standard for a teenager in the private school system. She was maybe seventeen at the time the picture was taken. But Fallon Andrade of Dublin, Ireland wouldn’t live to see her thirtieth birthday.
Her office door swung open and Sebastian and Amy walked in laughing. Sebastian went to the small bar on the other side of the room and brought back two bottles of water for Amy and Erin. He took the chair while Amy sat next to Erin and stared at the screen.
“Is that her?” Amy asked. “She’s pretty.”
“She’s a fake,” Alex replied as she took the chair opposite Sebastian. “She was DOA in a car accident six years ago.”
“Where’d she come from?” Sebastian asked staring at Alex because she was staring at him. “The Council?”
“Maybe,” Alex shrugged. She turned her eyes to Erin and Amy. “Did you find anything on the symbol?”
“Yeah,” Erin smiled then tapped her smartphone screen. Amy handed it to Alex. “It’s a designation for a kind of free agent. She broke a rule, probably recently. She’s trying to get back into someone’s good graces.”
Alex tossed the phone to Sebastian. “Can you find out who she’s working for?”
He studied the design with a frown. “Maybe, but not before we leave tonight.” He tapped the screen then his phone buzzed. Handing the phone back to Erin, he pulled his own from his pocket. “I’ve never heard of a free agent program, but then again, I’ve never broken any rules,” he smiled. “At least not any that would get me placed on vampire probation.”
“Lucky you,” Alex hummed as she stood and stretched. “I guess we should get back to the house and get packed. Vegas, here we come.”
They followed her out the door after she packed her backpack and told her assistant goodbye. Ivy would be in charge until she returned sometime before Thanksgiving. Her assistant handed her a large manila envelope and wished everyone a safe trip.
His ass was numb. Perched on a flat rock since a little before sundown, Cory shifted his weight to soothe the pain. He checked his phone—his friends had better be on their way or they’d never make it in time.
As a breeze blew across the sand toward Groom Lake, Cory zipped his track jacket up to his chin then blew his warm breath on his cold hands. The chill of the coming night wrapped around his hooded curly ‘fro as he prepared himself for what came next. Once his buddies-in-crime, Wes and Tommie, arrived, they’d be inside in no time. He knew that for sure for some reason.
Just as he was about to text Wes, the sound of an engine echoed in the distance. At first he thought it was his friends, but Wes’s piece of shit Ford pickup needed a tune-up. This sound was of a well-maintained and practically new vehicle. Cory could tell. He could tell a lot of things lately. Since getting out of the “looney bin,” as his stepfather put it, he could hear things and feel things that he was sure no one else could: sounds from way in the distance, smells from the next block. It had all happened suddenly and had really freaked him out. The doctor had warned him that there may be some side effects to the medication, but still.
Cory eased his sore butt from the rock then stretched his body out on the sand when he heard the Jeep coming from the opposite direction. Behind the low stack of old rusted water pipes a few inches in front of him, he watched the base patrol bounce along the fence line for one last check before shift change. With the light dimming slowly in the western skies, they wouldn’t notice him. He hitched his way up here so there wouldn’t be a car to find, if they even checked that back road—which they wouldn’t. When his friends got here, they’d see what they needed to see, snap a couple pics for proof, and be long gone before morning or the night shift rounds.
Right now, he was behind that imaginary line that separated trespassing on public land from trespassing on Government property, so he felt safe. But once they crossed that line, entered the fence and the lone building out here, all bets were off. To get pinched then would mean Federal time or worse. Much worse, he feared.
“Stop,” he whispered to himself. “Nobody’s getting caught.”
As he peered through the dry brush, he was careful not to break any of the brittle branches. The brand new army Jeep stopped along the fence, exactly as he knew it would. The guards talked and laughed as the headlights lit up the chain link. This whole scenario was just like his dream: two young military guards charged with the simple task of checking a fence line out in the middle of nowhere. In another minute, they’d bounce along the sand to the next checkpoint and his friends would come over that sand dune behind him. Then they would find the loose section of fence, crawl under it and along the dark ground until they reached the lone building with a number stenciled on all four sides. In and out before the next pass by the guards and home before sunrise. Easy. Maybe.
In the dark of his mind, Cory knew this place like the back of his hand. He should. He’d been dreaming of it for the last two weeks. While the patrol sat and did whatever they did on the outskirts of what was commonly referred to as Area 51, he checked his phone again. If they had left at the arranged time, Wes and Tommie should be arriving any minute n
ow. So this patrol had to get rolling or they’d all get busted.
Like they’d read his mind, the patrol rolled away. A small sandstorm trailed behind the Jeep. Cory heaved a sigh when he heard Wes’s old Ford clanking in his direction. He could even hear the doors slam and their trotting feet across the sand. They talked about going to a bar after this to pick up chicks.
Tommie’s laugh echoed around the canyon. A sharp pain at the base of Cory’s skull cut off the sound suddenly. He found that when he concentrated, he could stop the noise, but it was always followed by that sharp pain and a slight dizziness. The price you pay for silence, he thought as he turned his head and saw his friends rise up like magic.
At the top of the dune, Wes looked almost seven feet tall. Tommie came up on the low side of the dune and they descended together. Cory stood up and Wes waved then lost his footing. As he tumbled down the sand, Tommie chased after him, laughing at the top his lungs. Wes’s wiry arms and legs looked like a tangled mess as he rolled down the dune. Tommie picked him up by his collar and brushed sand from his jeans as he continued to laugh. Cory waited and tried to keep his temper in check. When they were close enough for him not to yell, he shushed them.
“Hey,” Tommie said with an apologetic shrug of his bulky shoulders. Standing about six feet tall, he’d decided to take up Mixed Martial Arts. Wes was his unofficial trainer. “We made it.”
“Just,” Cory hissed as he turned back to the fence. “The guards barely left.”
Wes pulled a flask from his back pocket and took a sip. “We got lost. Sorry, Cory.” He handed the metal container to Tommie.
“You mean you got drunk,” Cory replied as he took the flask from Tommie and took a long draw himself. It tasted like battery acid, but it steadied his nerves.
“So,” Wes said then clapped his hands together. “We gonna do this or what?”
The loose length of fence was easy to find even in the dark desert. Cory followed his memory to the exact spot, dropped down on his knees, and took a deep breath. He reached out and slipped his fingers through the metal gaps then stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Tommie whispered as he and Wes took a knee behind him. He felt Tommie’s elbow. “Cory?”
“Nothing,” he answered. “Just gimme a second.”
“It’s the right place, right Cory?” Wes asked. “That’s the building you saw in your dreams. It’s even got the same number: 370-8.”
Cory stared at those white numbers against the dark background. He nodded while he pulled at the metal fence. It gave a low yawn as it rose from the sand.
“Cool,” both his friends whispered.
The cold sweat rolled down Cory’s spine as the breeze swept past them. He crawled under the fence, held it up for his friends, then they followed him toward the building.
Covered in shadow, they crawled all the way to the back wall then stood up. Backs against the stiff metal, Cory’s head began to spin.
“Gimme that flask,” he whispered as he slipped his hand inside his front jean pocket.
Wes slapped it in one cold hand as Cory popped the white pills in his mouth with the other. Taking a long draw that emptied the flask, he felt the pills slide down his dry throat and hit his empty stomach. In a few seconds, the sweat and fear were gone.
Given what Cory knew about pharmacology—which was practically nothing—he was fairly sure most medication didn’t act as quickly as this stuff. As the dizziness dissipated and his internal heater switched back to normal, he didn’t really care. As long as the voices stayed quiet and the sweats didn’t come back, it didn’t matter, did it?
Being in this drug trial saved his parents a ton of money. And Dr. Gilcrest wouldn’t steer him wrong anyway. He was a solid dude. His mother had been seeing him for a few months now—since her return from the Middle East. Her nightmares seemed almost as bad as Cory’s, but then she had seen a lot in that combat zone. As a nurse assigned to the medical unit in Fallujah, Mrs. Norma Lucas had patched and stitched up all kinds of soldiers—men and women who had given limb and life in a war very few people agreed with. When she got home, she still carried what she’d seen with her. Dr. Gilcrest helped lots of vets. And now he was helping Cory too.
His mother’s benefits paid for his treatment but not the experimental drugs. That’s where the drug trial came in. When Dr. Gilcrest suggested it, they’d jumped at the opportunity. So far, it kept the voices and nightmares at bay. Cory couldn’t say there were any side effects yet, like his hair falling out or something worse. He figured that would come later. For now, all he wanted was to get through tonight and take what he found to Dr. Gilcrest—if he found anything. He trusted Dr. Gilcrest.
His friends followed him down the dark path beside the old building, still pressed to the wall in the safety of the shadows. When Cory heard another engine growl, he stopped short and they bumped into him. Wes and Tommie chuckled.
“Shut up,” Cory hissed over his shoulder. They stifled another chuckle as Cory kept them still until the Jeep rolled away.
When they reached the front, Cory stopped again and peered around the corner. He saw a guard house in the distance. His sight sharpened on the small building, and he could see one guard sitting at a desk just like in the dream.
“What the hell?” he muttered under his breath.
“Now what?” Tommie asked.
“This is insane,” Cory replied. “I can’t believe this shit. Can you?”
“Ever since you got out of that hospital, you’ve been able to do some pretty awesome stuff,” Wes said. “Maybe they did some experiments on you, you know, secret shit just to see what would happen.”
He saw Tommie nod his head in agreement, then they laughed again.
“Assholes,” Cory grinned then checked the guard station one more time. “I’m gonna check this building. You guys stay here.”
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Tommie sighed. “Maybe we should just go back. What if we get caught?”
“We didn’t get caught in the dream,” Cory reminded him.
“You don’t know that for sure,” Wes added. “You always wake up screaming when we open the door, remember?”
Cory had to admit he was right. He never got any further than the door when he woke up in a cold sweat, his heart racing as if he’d run a marathon. That’s why he decided to do this. He had to know what was behind that door. He had to know what he was so afraid of.
His friends had volunteered to come along, especially after they found out the coordinates Cory kept dreaming about were at Area 51.
“You don’t have come with me,” Cory stated as he prepared to step out of the darkness. He blew on his cold hands because he knew they had to be warm to open the door. Its electronic lock wouldn’t open unless his hand was warm.
“Are you kidding?” Tommie squeaked. “I’m in, buddy!”
Wes stared at Cory then nodded. “If we get busted, you’re gonna have to explain to my Dad why he has to fly to Cuba to bail me out.”
“Just stay close and quiet,” Cory whispered.
They stepped out one at a time. Still keeping to the shadow of the building, Cory led the way with Tommie in the middle and Wes checking the rear. At the door, the lock looked just as it had for the last two weeks. Cory rubbed his hands together as he blew his warm breath on them then pressed his right hand on the glass pad.
Chapter 10
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Alex stated as they sat in the lobby of Jason’s hotel. Adam had just briefed her on the girl from the airport fight. He’d wiped her memory and set her free with a tracking device embedded behind her right ear. “Playing around with her memories will just cause more problems. Tristan is as old as you, if not older. He’ll figure it out. Then he’ll do something like he did back home—something that will draw attention we don’t want.”
“All the more reason to pick her up n
ow,” Adam replied. “We know Tristan’s out. We should settle this before we leave.”
Alex sat back in the comfortable chair and shook her head at him. “We know where she is. We know Creed’s involved. You said you couldn’t get a clear picture of Tristan, so it could be bullshit—her dropping his name.”
He was silent. Because he was pure, Alex couldn’t read his thoughts and she wanted to more than anything right now. She had never been able to read pure-bloods. Her father said it was most likely because they were born vampires, their genetic makeup was vastly different from the turned. Alex figured it was because she was mostly human and, therefore, too weak to read their thoughts. To her, that was a weakness she wished she could overcome.
“And if he follows us to Romania?” Adam asked as he leaned toward her. “I will not risk Jason’s life on a hunch.”
“You don’t have to,” Alex replied. “He won’t follow us. Too risky.”
Adam nodded and Alex turned to see Jason coming toward them. “And if you’re wrong?”
“I signed on to protect him with my life,” she answered as they both stood and faced him. “I’m good at what I do, Adam. I’ve never lost a client.”
“You better not or he’ll be the last client you lay eyes on.”
Jason’s gaze bounced from Alex to Adam and back. He shook Adam’s hand and kissed her cheek. “Do I want to know what you two were talking about?”
“Just going over some last minute details,” Adam replied. “Right?”
“Right,” Alex answered. “I think we’re on the same page now. If you two would excuse me, I have other business to attend to.”
She bowed to Adam and he bowed back. Jason asked Adam to wait as he followed her.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asked as he took her elbow gently and pulled her to a stop. “We need to talk.”
By Blood Sworn Page 10