by Lisa Childs
A shot fired. And both men turned to where she stood in her bedroom doorway, the gun clasped in her hand. “Break it up!” she yelled.
“Kate…” Relief shuddered through Warrick. But it was short-lived because now she was here. With Reagan. And that put her in too much danger.
He turned back to his enemy. He might not be able to kill the man, but he could stop him from hurting Kate. So he launched himself at Reagan again. But before he could connect, another shot rang out— stopping him.
*
Kate cursed. She hadn’t wanted to shoot him. But she’d reacted out of instinct.
Warrick turned to her, his topaz eyes wide with surprise…until she screamed at him. “He’s getting away!”
The man, whoever he was, vaulted out the window—heedless of the bullet wound in his shoulder. Heedless of the fact that her apartment was four floors up from the ground. Just like her first shot into Warrick hadn’t fazed him, her shooting his enemy hadn’t fazed him, either.
Instead of chasing after the man he had vowed to kill, Warrick grabbed Kate and covered her mouth with his.
It was a quick, hard kiss, but heat and passion filled her at just that brief touch of his lips to hers. Before she could open her mouth, before she could return his kiss, he pulled back. But he didn’t release her; his hands still clutched her shoulders, holding her closely.
He stared down at her, his eyes alight with passion, too—and relief. “Thank God you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him even though she felt a little shaky now—more from his kiss than from finding two men fighting in her bedroom. “But I’m confused.” Partly about how much she wanted a man she couldn’t even trust. She shook her head, trying to clear the desire from it. “I need to know what the hell is going on. Why did you bring that man here?”
Had he changed his mind about involving the police? Had he wanted her help? Had he reported finding the man? Sirens wailed in the distance as patrol cars approached. She doubted Warrick had called them. Someone in the building must have reported hearing the gun fired in her apartment.
Now Kate would have to report the shooting and explain what had happened. At least she would finally be able to prove that she hadn’t been hallucinating that night in the alley: Warrick really did exist.
But he heard the sirens, too, and stepped back, his hands dropping from her shoulders. He turned and headed toward the window his enemy had gone out just moments ago.
“No!” she protested and she reached for him with the hand not holding her gun. She clutched at his arm, pulling him back around to face her. “You can’t leave!”
“I have to,” he said. “You’re okay. And he’s not. I can track him now. I can catch up with him.”
And kill him.
“Warrick, don’t—”
His broad shoulders slumped for a moment before straightening as his body tensed with determination. And he easily tugged free from her grasp. “I have to.”
“You have to stop.” She lifted her gun now. “Or I’ll shoot you, too!”
He grinned. “No, you won’t.”
She moved her finger toward the trigger, but she couldn’t pull it. She couldn’t hurt him again. Even though he had somehow miraculously survived gunshot wounds a surgeon had declared fatal, he had nearly died that night in the alley. He’d stopped breathing. His heart had appeared to stop beating. She couldn’t risk that he might not survive again. So she lowered her weapon.
But he didn’t see that she did. He had already turned away from her. He wedged his broad shoulders through the window. This was the same window through which his enemy had gone. It didn’t open onto the fire escape; there was nothing beyond it but cold air. Unconcerned or blindly focused, Warrick leaped through it to the street below—far below. Four stories.
“No!” she yelled.
She rushed to the window and leaned out, staring down. But she could see no bodies sprawled on the asphalt. The fall hadn’t hurt either man badly enough to stop them. So were they only men? Or were they something else—something Bernie had warned her about before he’d been so brutally murdered?
She shivered and not just because of the cold autumn air rushing over her. She shivered because of the thoughts rushing through her mind and the fear rushing through her heart.
What the hell was Warrick James?
The sirens grew louder as the cars pulled up in front of the apartment building. Moments later fists pounded at her front door. She hurried from her bedroom, but before she could cross the living room to the door, it swung open—the door and jamb splintering from the force. Uniformed officers were not who burst into her home, though. It was her ex-husband, clad in one of his dark suits and brightly patterned ties.
Old fears replaced new ones. Dwight had been superhumanly strong, too; she had had no defense against his blows. Her grip reflexively tightened on her gun. But then the uniforms followed him inside and she relaxed. He wasn’t here alone. She holstered her gun.
Dwight, his face tense with concern, asked, “What the hell happened here, Kate?”
She wished she knew. “I came home to find an intruder in my bedroom.”
“So you fired your weapon?”
She nodded and waited for the ridicule. After Warrick had disappeared from that alley, Dwight had taunted her about shooting at shadows.
But now he breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Did you hit him?”
“If I did, I only grazed him because he managed to get away,” she admitted.
“What did he look like?”
She shook her head and answered honestly. “I don’t know. It was very dark in my bedroom. I didn’t get a good look at him. I just know he was big.” Even bigger than Warrick. That was why she had fired because the guy could have hurt him. Or worse.
Or could he have? Could either man actually die—when gunshots and four-story falls didn’t harm them?
Dwight turned toward the uniforms and shouted orders at them. “Search outside for an injured man.” They hastened to obey him, rushing off before they’d even secured the apartment.
But maybe they’d trusted her to do that—despite what the past couple of months had done to her reputation as a detective. What Warrick had done to it…
But he’d done more than affect her career. He had affected her heart and now her mind. What she was actually considering…
No, it just wasn’t possible.
Alone again with her ex, she reached for her holster—settling her hand on her weapon in case she needed to draw it. In case she needed to defend herself…like she probably should have when they were married. “They won’t find him.”
“You think he disappeared again?”
“Again?” She was more surprised over his question than his kicking down her door. “So you do believe there was someone in the alley that night?”
“I’ve always believed in you, Kate,” Dwight replied, and his voice and the steady gaze of his eyes conveyed sincerity. But it was a lie.
Anger gripped her. She really hated him, hated when he acted the magnanimous hero. “You didn’t support me,” she reminded him. He never had—even when they had been married. “You were the one who first started calling me crazy, saying I was imagining things. That I was overwrought.”
“I’m sorry,” he said—as he had so many times before. But just like then, she didn’t believe him.
“I took advantage of the situation for a little payback,” he admitted.
His confession shocked and confused her. “What do you owe me besides a lifetime of groveling?” she wondered.
“You can frustrate a man, Kate, with your stubborn independence,” he said, and that frustration darkened his eyes. “You’re always so strong and so sure of yourself. I guess it was kind of nice to see you…”
“Weak?” she asked. That explained a lot of their marriage, most especially how it had ended.
“Uncertain.”
She’d doubted herself and her sanity and he had
enjoyed that? “Get out!”
“I should stay here with you to make sure that he doesn’t come back.”
She pulled her weapon from her holster and hoped he gave her an excuse to use it. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”
And that was probably what he resented about her. But he gave up arguing and left. Her too-small, overcluttered apartment suddenly felt big and empty with everyone gone.
She actually did want one of the men to come back. Warrick. And not just for that explanation he’d been denying her. When she had found him fighting again with the man he swore was dangerous, she had acted out of instinct and fired her gun to protect the man with whom she had such an uncanny connection.
And it wasn’t just physical. There was more between them than that. But how could she be falling for a man that she wasn’t even certain was a man—or at least not just a man?
*
Pain gripped her, doubling her over with its intensity. She grabbed for her belly—for her babies. But the pain wasn’t in her stomach. The pain struck her heart, clutching it in a tight fist.
Reagan…
Her pain was his. He had been hurt.
Now she pressed her hands to her chest. He had been shot. With a silver bullet?
Was his life ebbing away?
The pain overwhelmed her. But now it was all hers. She couldn’t lose him like this. His children couldn’t lose him before they’d even been born. Before he even knew they existed…
She had been afraid to tell him that she was pregnant. And then he’d taken off, abandoning her. If he’d known, maybe he wouldn’t have left her behind.
Or maybe he would have come back for her.
But no, it would have been for them. Not for her…
If he’d really wanted her—if he’d really loved her, he would have already returned. And now he might never have that chance.
*
“Let me in!” Warrick demanded, hammering at the steel door between the secret passageway and that damn secret clinic where the special surgeon saved lives. But some of those lives didn’t deserve to be saved.
Didn’t he know that? In the underground did it really matter that Dr. Davison had taken the Hippocratic oath?
“Do you need medical attention?” a voice asked from behind him.
He whirled toward Sebastian, who stood in the middle of the passageway—as if blocking his way back or trapping him. “I’m not hurt.” Just very, very pissed. And if the vampire tried anything, he would be the one getting hurt.
“Then you don’t need to get inside,” Sebastian said. “And you’ll need to wait if you want to talk to Ben. Dr. Davison is working on a patient.”
“I know what patient he’s working on,” Warrick said, “and that’s why I have to get in there.” He turned back toward the door, hammering at it. “Stop! Don’t help him!”
A hand—a surprisingly strong hand—gripped his shoulder and turned him back around. But then vampires were strong—superhumanly strong. And Warrick was still in his human form. Could he overpower the vampire?
As if he’d read his mind, Sebastian shook his head. “Sorry,” he said but his tone was not at all apologetic.
“Son of a bitch,” Warrick cursed him.
Sebastian shrugged off the insult. “You can’t compromise the sterile environment.”
“You don’t want to let the doctor save that man.” Not with Kate’s life at risk. The man had been in her home, in her bedroom. The red haze of fury blinded him. “And you sure as hell don’t want to leave your brother-in-law alone with him.”
Sebastian grinned in amusement. “Ben can take care of himself.”
“So it is Reagan,” Warrick said, his heart beating faster with anticipation. If only he had a gun and silver bullets, he could end this now.
Forever.
He could keep Kate safe. She was his first concern. Avenging his father’s murder was an afterthought.
“Reagan?” Sebastian’s light blue eyes widened in innocence. “Who’s that?”
“The guy I’ve been chasing down for the past few months. The man who must be responsible for the murder of that Kate found dead in the alley.” He swallowed hard, choking on that murderous rage, and added, “The man I found in Kate’s bedroom tonight.”
Sebastian’s grin slipped away completely as he tensed. “Did he hurt her?”
Pride had Warrick flashing the grin now. “No. She hurt him. She shot him.”
The vampire expelled a shuddery sigh. “So she’s okay?”
Warrick nodded. “For now.” He turned back to the door and rattled the handle. If he could tear the door from its hinges, he would, but it had been reinforced. “You have to let me in there.”
“I don’t know if that’s who Ben’s working on,” Sebastian insisted.
“Then let me check.” He had to know. He didn’t care about Reagan’s well-being. He just wanted to make sure he was in that room and not back with Kate.
Sebastian shook his head. “I can’t.”
“Then you do it,” Warrick said. “You check for me.” But he wasn’t sure if he could trust the vampire. What if Reagan had conned him like he had so many others? Their father had thought Reagan was the good son. If he’d only known…
“I can’t,” the vampire repeated with a ragged sigh. “Only Ben can unlock the door from the inside.”
“Then I’ll wait here until he does,” Warrick said. He didn’t care that the passageway was really just a tunnel of the sewer system and that it was dank and smelled as putrid as the Dumpster in the alley. He would wait however long it was necessary. Reagan wouldn’t slip away from him again.
“What if it’s not him?” Sebastian posed the question as if he was just wondering aloud.
Warrick tensed now, apprehension lifting the short hair on his nape. “If what’s not him?”
Had Reagan been talking to the residents of Zantrax, lying to them as he’d wanted to lie to Warrick? Trying to deny culpability for all the evil he’d done? Was that why Sebastian was protecting him? Because he didn’t believe Reagan was a killer?
He hadn’t witnessed what Warrick had—what he had witnessed every time he’d shut his eyes until he’d met Kate. Now, when he closed his eyes, he saw her—her beautiful face, her pale blue eyes, her sexy as hell body naked and flushed with passion…
“Ben’s patient, the person in the surgery room with him,” Sebastian clarified. “What if it’s not your guy?”
Concern clutched Warrick’s heart. “Then he’d still be out there…”
“And he already knows where Kate lives,” Sebastian reminded him. “And neither of us are watching her right now—we’re both here.”
“Damn it!” And what if, like Warrick, Reagan had gone back to her to extract vengeance for her shooting him?
“I’ll wait here,” Sebastian offered. “You go—”
To her. The vampire didn’t have time to finish what he’d been about to say because Warrick was gone. He only hoped that he could get back to her in time. Because she could shoot Reagan over and over and over again. But she wouldn’t be able to stop him…
Not unless she had a silver bullet. And she didn’t know she needed silver bullets. She didn’t know what Reagan—what he—was. And she probably wouldn’t until it was too late…
Chapter 9
He hoped he wasn’t too late.
Fear—fear for her—gripped Warrick as he ran as fast as his human legs could carry him through the underground passages to the ladder that led up to the manhole cover outside her apartment building. Once through the hole, he scaled the brick wall to the fourth floor and vaulted through her window. He landed on his feet, as he always did. But then something struck him across the stomach, dropping him to his knees.
Pain gripped his guts as he groaned but rolled, trying to regain his feet. Reagan would not get the jump on him again.
“You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you,” Kate remarked as she tossed the bat she’d swung at him onto t
he floor.
He flinched and finally managed to stand straight again as relief and pride filled him. Kate was fine; hell, she was better than fine. “God, woman, you’re dangerous.”
Heat warmed her blue eyes, and he remembered the last time he’d called her woman—when he was making love to her. Kissing and caressing every inch of her. And now doing that all over again was all he could think about—kissing her, caressing her, thrusting inside her…filling her.
“Thank God you didn’t hit me any lower,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her. He lowered his mouth to hers.
But she pressed her palms against his chest and pushed him back. “No. We’re not doing that…”
“We’re not?” His body ached for hers, every muscle taut with desire. It had been too long since he’d touched her, since he’d been inside her.
He saw the longing on her face, too—felt the way her hands trembled against his chest as awareness tingled between them. His skin heated as passion filled him. He wanted her so damn badly.
She shook her head. “Not until you tell me what that man has done and why you hate him so much.”
He dropped his arms and stepped back, turning toward the window. Was Reagan out there or locked up in Dr. Davison’s damn secret clinic?
“Warrick, he was here—in my bedroom,” she said, as if he needed the reminder of his mortal enemy being so close to her. “I need to know how dangerous he is.”
“He’s a killer.”
She touched him now—gently, her hands on his back. “Who did he kill? Someone you loved very much, wasn’t it?”
Loved or feared? He had never been able to separate the emotions when it came to the late leader of the pack. “My father…”
“I am so sorry,” she said, her hands stroking comfortingly over his back to his shoulders. “I lost my dad…and mom…years ago, but I still miss them.”
“My father was killed just a few months ago.” But already the pain that had once been so sharp was beginning to dull. She had dulled it for him.