by Karin Tabke
Lazarus stood silent and contemplative for a long moment, then spoke. “We suspect she works for a covert organization, the same covert organization Rowland has retained to protect him from us, and you want to bring her into the fold?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you so sure she will obey if I turn her?”
Marcus set his jaw. “You will not turn her. I will.”
Lazarus smiled, his fangs glistening beneath the morning sunlight. “You know the rules, Marcus. Only district or coven leaders posses the power to turn a mortal, and only with the coven leader’s approval.”
Marcus smiled back, showing his own fangs. “Then promote me.”
Lazarus shook his head. “You’re not ready.”
Immediately taking offense, Marcus clenched his jaw. “I’m more than ready. As a mortal, I was squad leader, and would have been promoted to captain, then unit leader, had I not been ambushed by that band of Pakistani drug smugglers. I’ve carried out every Solution mission successfully. I have your respect and that of my fellow operatives.”
“I decide who is promoted, and I say you are not ready.”
Marcus paused, then sneered, “Would Rurik think the same?”
Lazarus shoved Marcus so hard that he flew across the room and crashed into the mirrored bar in the dining room. Lazarus flew at him, but Marcus, furious at being treated like a mere minion, was ready. He dove headlong into his maker’s path, and together they crashed to the floor, rolling over the furniture, breaking everything in their wake. Seconds later, they whirled up and hit the ceiling, landed with a crash against the wall in the living room, then crashed through the double-wide sliding glass door out onto the patio.
Sunlight hit Marcus’s skin, warming it to hot, but not so hot that he burned. Lazarus immediately moved into the darkness of the condominium, trying to pull Marcus with him. Marcus shook him off. Slowly, he stood and faced the rising sun. No glass separated him from the ultraviolet rays. He did not burn.
Lazarus had lied to him.
He turned to find his maker carefully watching him. This was not the first time they’d quarreled, but it was the first time they’d physically tangled. The first time Marcus had let his anger move him so that, unthinkingly, he’d challenged his maker. Now, it appeared, the student rivaled the teacher.
“There is no glass that separates me and the sun,” Marcus taunted, “and yet I am intact.” Even as he said the words, he felt a slight cramp of nausea in his gut.
Lazarus straightened his jacket and smoothed back his hair, then tsked. “You are stronger than I thought, Marcus. Do not let it go to your head.”
Marcus tried to withstand the nausea but couldn’t. He strode past Lazarus into the cool darkness of the abode. Immediately, his stomach quelled, but he was indisputably rattled. He might be gaining power, but he was still no match for Lazarus and his army of rabid vampires. It had been foolish for him to mention Rurik, knowing how Lazarus would react. Foolish to think he could best him. He couldn’t forget that he still needed his maker. Or that he owed him his life, limited as it was. He wasn’t going to ruin their relationship for a woman he didn’t trust. What had he been thinking? He turned to his maker and made a slight bow. “My pardon for evoking Rurik’s name. I won’t do it again.”
Lazarus placed his hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “Take my chamber and go to ground. You won’t be disturbed. We’ll talk when you arise.”
“About the woman—” Marcus insisted, not willing to let the matter go.
Lazarus sliced his hand in the air. “Enough. It will be as you wish,” he snapped. “But only because I wish it.”
Marcus nodded, then strode down the hall. Despite Lazarus’s generosity, he knew things had irrevocably changed between him and his maker.
And not for the better.
* * *
Jax woke with a start, jackknifing straight up in the bed. Sunshine streamed through the windows, warming her naked body. She gazed about the room. Linens and pillows littered the floor and lay strewn across the furniture. Her robe lay in a heap by the bathroom door.
Sounds and scents reverberated with precise clarity. One scent overrode everything else—Cross’s earthy scent. It swirled in the air, across her skin. She touched her fingertips to her neck and felt the harsh rush of her blood beneath her fingertips. His presence swirled in her blood. She rose from the bed, feeling light on her feet.
Where was he? Had he—?
She shook her head and cursed her stupidity. Of course he didn’t do mornings. Vampires didn’t like the sun and all that. And after last night, Jax had no doubts. A vampire was exactly what Marcus was.
Besides, she snorted to herself, vampire or not, she’d bet he was the kind of guy that skulked out in the wee hours of the morning.
She strode to the window and pushed the curtains all the way open. Sunlight flooded the room, she blinked at the brightness. The city bustled beneath her, oblivious to her and what had transpired in this room. Her heart rate hitched up a few notches. What had happened? It was like nothing she had ever experienced. It had been wild. Frenzied. Epic.
Marcus’s initial gentleness had surprised her. Then it had turned her into a pile of malleable mush. Never in a million years would she have believed he was capable of such tenderness.
And never in a million years had she thought she could be so dumb!
She closed her eyes and summoned an image of Marcus. She felt his power, his passion . . . his seething anger at the world. The way he’d reverently trailed his fingertips across her skin. Jax dragged her fingers through her hair and shook the thick strands. Taking a deep breath, she silently cursed herself.
Shit!
What had she done?
Compromised the entire mission by allowing herself to become emotionally involved with her mark! Yeah, she had some power over him, she could push his buttons, but he had her number, too. Shit! Shit! Shit! She grabbed her robe from the floor and shrugged it on. Now, she had to make it right. While she waited for her laptop to boot up, she made quick use of the bathroom. When she returned, she facetimed Godfather.
“Go ahead, Freedom Fighter,” Godfather said, using her code name.
There was no sense in beating around the bush. “I can no longer do this,” she said, feeling as if she had let the world down.
“Do what?”
“This! This mission!”
Godfather didn’t so much as blink. “Why?”
“I slept with him.”
“And?”
“Did you hear me? I fucked him!”
Not even a flash of anger or surprise in those cool blue eyes of his. “So.”
“You don’t care?” Jax demanded, incredulous.
Finally, a reaction. And not the one she thought she deserved. Godfather shrugged and looked earnestly at her. “You did what you had to do. I’m sorry it came to that.”
He wasn’t getting it. Frustrated, Jax swiped at her chin with her hand. “You’re wrong. I didn’t fuck him because I had to, I fucked him because I wanted to!”
Godfather regained his stoic demeanor. “Are you implying you have become emotionally involved with your mark and can no longer remain objective?”
“I . . . yes.” Jax swiped her hand across her face again, more frustrated. “I mean, no. Look, I don’t—” She forced herself to say the words. “I’m not emotionally involved with him. But I slept with him, damn it, because I wanted to, not because he forced me or because it was a means to an end.”
“Has the fact that you had sex with Cross jeopardized mission success?”
Jax sat back and stared at Godfather, who looked as if he’d been discussing the weather with her. “He got to me. Made me flash when I should have remained calm.”
“Then I suggest you get a grip on that temper of yours, Cassidy.” Godfather leaned in and softly said, “You have what it takes to see this mission through to the end. Now stop crying like a girl and get the job done.”
“There’s more!
” Jax said before he logged off.
“What more?”
“Cross is a fucking vampire.” She held her hand up when Godfather scowled. “He not only told me, but I witnessed him destroy six gangbangers after they shot him full of lead. Had he not shown up, I would have been the one dead.”
“Cassidy—”
Jax rubbed her neck, the bruise of Cross’s bite throbbed. She closed her eyes, swept her hair from her neck, and leaned toward the screen. “He bit me, sir. Drank my blood. Not pretend, but the real thing.”
Long silence followed her confession. “Cassidy, I’m at a loss for words here. I find all of this unbelievable.”
She opened her eyes and stared at her boss. “Me too, but I’m not crazy. This is real.”
“How do we fight it?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll tell you this: Cross might be a vampire, which explains a lot, but he has all of the emotions and desires of a man. And I think I’ve made a connection. We have an advantage in that we can operate during the day, and he cannot. We can do a lot in a day.”
“We are completely out of our element here, Cassidy. I don’t like operating in the dark.”
She nodded. “Neither do I, but I’ll tell you this much. Cross will be back. At the very least for sex, at the most to bring me in.”
“All right, Cassidy,” Godfather reluctantly said, “I’m going to get to work on the vampire angle. See what I come up with. Meet up with your team and report back to me before dusk.”
“Yes, sir,” Jax said before the screen went dark.
For long minutes, she sat in the chair and stared at the dark screen. What the hell had she gotten them into? What if there were an army of Crosses? How could they fight them? And win? She shivered hard. This was becoming epic. And for the first time since they began, Jax doubted not only the success of this mission, but L.O.S.T.’s survival.
Heavy footsteps approaching her room startled her. Shane. She smelled him. Jesus, her senses were on overload, and even though she knew what—who—was responsible, she still felt the thrill of excitement. A girl could get used to this.
Tightening the sash around her waist, she opened the door before he knocked. Startled, he took one look at her, then past her. “What the hell, Cassidy?” Shane asked as he stepped into the room. Jax shut the door behind him. “Looks like a bomb went off in this place.”
“Yeah, one did,” Jax said under her breath.
He turned to stare at her. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. Suddenly she felt very self-conscious. The musky smell of sex and pheromones permeated the air. “What did the pedophile counselor have to say last night?” she asked, diverting his attention.
“No one home.”
“How convenient,” Jax muttered. “Have you checked in with Dante?”
“All Rowlands are present and accounted for, but Dante said to be prepared. The female Rowlands have been going round and round about the boyfriend.”
Great. “Let me get cleaned up and we’ll go see the Rowlands, then pay LeVech a visit.”
She moved past him. Or tried to. Shane grabbed her arm. His gaze skittered to the bed, then back to her. “Jax, you can’t—”
“Don’t go there,” she said quietly. “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do, Shane. Understand?”
Grimly, he stared at her, then let her go. “He’s using you.”
She nodded, remembering Godfather’s faith in her. It gave her the strength to answer him. “It goes both ways.”
Twenty-Three
When Jax and Shane made it to the Rowlands’ Pacific Heights estate, they drove straight into a hornet’s nest.
“Now that’s a sight,” Shane murmured, throwing the car into Park just as Grace Rowland barreled across the manicured front lawn. Her mother hot on her heels.
“Who would have thought Sophia Rowland could run with that stick up her butt,” Jax mused aloud.
“As much as I like the kid,” Shane laughed, “my money’s on her mom.”
Jax snorted, not about to disagree with him.
Sighing, she opened the car door.
“I’m an adult. I’ll see who I want!” Grace screamed, running past Jax, who’d exited the vehicle.
“Grace, you come back here. I—”
In a quick, powerful move, Jax reached out and grabbed the girl by the arm, yanking her backward. The velocity of the movement caught Sophia Rowland, who was gaining ground on her daughter, by surprise. Grace and her mother collided, then hit the cobblestone driveway with a resounding thud.
Shane looked at Jax as if she had grown a third head, then immediately reached down to help the Rowland women up. Inhaling deeply, Jax stepped back. Sophia speared her with a glare as she adjusted the scarf hanging askew around her neck. Seeing she was unharmed, Jax focused on Grace.
Shit.
Not only were Gracie’s pants torn and dirty but the collision had also bloodied up her right hand. Tears filled the girl’s eyes, refusing to meet Jax’s gaze.
* * *
“Oh, Gracie,” Sophia said when she saw the wound. Instantly, her standard I’ll-eat-you-for-breakfast expression transformed into one of genuine distress. She yanked the scarf from around her neck and hurriedly wrapped it around her daughter’s wound. Surprised by the show of maternal concern, Jax stepped closer and was rewarded with another heated glare. “Miss Cassidy, was that necessary? You could have killed us!” Sophia snapped.
Oh, good. The bitch was back. The bitch she could handle.
“Necessity isn’t the—” Jax stopped and frowned, then subtly sniffed the air.
Sophia’s scent . . . It was a complex blend of feminine flora, iron and dominant male. It caught Jax’s attention until she realized everyone was staring at her.
Shaking away her odd thoughts, Jax said, “My apologies, Mrs. Rowland, Grace. I meant only to stop the runaway train.” She turned sympathetic eyes to Grace. “I assume all this commotion is because you’ve told your mom”—Grace closed her eyes in obvious mortification—“about the picture and Mr. LeVech—”
“Not here, Miss Cassidy,” Sophia snapped. “In the house.”
Sophia wrapped her arms around her subdued daughter and led her into the sprawling Georgian-style mansion that was the Rowlands’ abode, leaving Jax and Shane to follow like paid help.
“You have an annoying habit of stunts like that,” Shane said as they trailed the limping women. “Do it again, Cassidy, and we can kiss this assignment good-bye.”
She looked up to find his angry eyes on her. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just wanted to stop Grace.”
“Next time, let me do it,” Shane groused. “You obviously don’t know your own strength.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Keep it up, and I’ll give you another demonstration.”
He held up his hands. “Easy. Save it for your boyfriend.”
What the hell—?”
But he walked ahead of her without letting her finish. And it really pissed her off. Cross was the furthest thing from a love interest that a man could be with her. That Shane would even joke about it made her want to hurt him.
She shook off her vigilante feelings toward her teammate, knowing she had to let it go. He could think what he wanted. If she was brutally honest, she had no regrets.
That admission bothered her more than Shane’s insinuation.
As they entered the cavernous house, Jax didn’t bother admiring the classic décor. She was already familiar with the full layout of the house, from the rug at her feet to the fixtures in the guest baths. All she wanted now—all she was going to focus on—were answers and strategic planning.
Dante strode angrily toward them. “Mrs. Rowland came unglued when the kid told her about the photograph and LeVech. When things appeared to have calmed down, I went to take a leak and the next thing I know the Rowland women are running and screaming out the door! I’m about done with this babysitting detail.”
That answered a couple of big questions. Sop
hia Rowland knew about the photo and lover boy. Jax slapped him on the shoulder and shook her head. “Thanks for taking one for the team, man.”
“What’s the word on LeVech?” Dante asked Shane.
“Not home. No one answering the phone this morning either. We’re going to head back over there as soon as we wrap up here.”
They followed the women deeper into the house until they finally stopped in a large study. They came face-to-face with a scowling Senator Rowland and Alex Maksim, his campaign manager. Rowland, however, seemed to be more vexed by Jax’s presence, then the fact his wife had been chasing his daughter down the street or that his kid was injured.. Maybe he was a derelict dad? Maybe he wasn’t the kind to fuss over a kid.
Was all the fatherly concern just an act, then? Was he like every other scumbag politician, more concerned with his career than with his own flesh and blood? No wonder Grace had rebelled.
Jax closed the double doors to what she figured was the senator’s office behind her. She nodded to the senator, who looked none too pleased with her.
Grace sat in a chair while being tended by her mother. The senator finally moved around and asked, “Are you all right, Gracie?”
“Just a few scrapes, Daddy,” she murmured, not looking up at him.
“Sir,” Jax said, inclining her head toward the girl. Jesus, did they really think they could talk openly with her present?
“Sophia,” Rowland softly said, “take Grace upstairs and tend her.”
Sophia turned angry eyes on Jax, then up to her husband. She helped Grace up and walked her to the door. “I’ll be up shortly, Grace. Have Leti see to you until then.”
Jax couldn’t help but compare Grace with her big brother. Only their eyes linked them physically. Emotionally, they were both passionate beings, but in such different ways. Grace was all blind sunshine, while Marcus was dark moonlight. Grace was like an untrained puppy wearing her emotions on her sleeve. Marcus was like a Schutzen-trained rottweiler. Jax watched her walk slowly from the room, knowing by her expression that she wanted to argue her place among the adults but was smart enough to know she would lose. Marcus never would have asked. He would have refused to leave.