Another layer of protection for the public. Everyone thinks they want to see a dead body until they do. You’re never the same after that.
“What do we have?” Ramirez asks Anderson, one of the officers near the center.
“Looks like a jumper.”
“Do we know who it is?” I ask, kneeling and lifting the yellow sheet just enough to get a glance at the deceased. “Or who he is?”
I can barely recognize the person as human, but I do a quick gum check just to be sure. No freckles, at least none that I can see.
“Eli Walker. Lives on the fourteenth floor.”
Eli? Something about the name—the coincidental closeness to Elijah hits me hard. Though, I can’t decide whether it’s nerves or based on actual instinct.
“He had to have fallen farther than fourteen floors.” Ramirez glances up.
“We think he came from the roof. Officers checked it out, but there was no sign of a struggle there or in his apartment.”
“Any witnesses?” Ramirez asks, jotting down notes on his pad.
“Two. A husband and wife were walking by when he impacted.”
“Where are they?”
Officer Anderson gestures off to the side where two red-faced people stand, holding each other. “Over there.”
I get to my feet. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” Ramirez sighs as we walk over to the couple. “I’m Detective Ramirez. This is Detective Astor. Can you tell us what happened?”
“We were just out for our walk,” the husband starts, and the wife begins crying again. “We were almost home when he—when he fell.”
“Do you know an Eli Walker?” Ramirez asks, and the woman gasps.
“Eli? That’s Eli?” The woman breaks down, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.
“I take it you knew him,” I ask, and the husband nods.
“He’s our next-door neighbor. Or was,” the man adds sadly.
“Did Eli seem troubled lately? Any reason he might have jumped?”
“No. Not Eli. We just had him over for dinner last night.” The woman’s voice cracks, and she takes a deep breath. “He just landed a new job at some high-profile firm. He’s a lawyer.”
“Is he married? Girlfriend?”
“Divorced. His wife moved back home to Connecticut last year.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Ramirez pulls out a card. “If you think of anything else, give us a call.”
“Thank you.” The husband takes the card and turns his wife away from the scene, guiding her up a path toward the apartment.
Eli Walker. It wouldn’t have bothered me before I discovered someone wanted me dead. Prior to the trailer shooting, I would have chalked it up to a coincidence. But now, after already being lured to one crime scene, I wonder if this victim wasn’t thrown as a way to draw me out.
And using a name close to the vampire who’d already saved me twice?
“I want to check out his place,” I tell Ramirez.
“Then, let’s go.”
Since it’s so far up, I swallow my nerves and take the elevator alongside Ramirez. After what feels like forever trapped inside a tin box, it dings, and the doors open on the fourteenth floor. Officers are already here, and yellow tape marks off Eli’s apartment. We flash our badges and move inside, stepping into a pristinely decorated space.
“Guy must have hired someone,” Ramirez comments as he pulls on latex gloves.
Slipping on a matching pair, I turn in a slow circle. “He definitely has an eye for Celtic designs.” I study the Celtic knot artwork, the ancient weapons decorating the walls. Another coincidence seeing as how Elijah is Irish.
I move through the apartment, making my way to the kitchen where a stack of envelopes has been tossed onto the granite. They’re out of place, considering the rest of the pristine apartment. Nearly all bills plus one solicitation for a new cable company. Basically, nothing exciting, so I move on.
The balcony is closed, the sliding door locked. I open it, searching for a way our victim could have locked it from the outside, but there’s no access point.
“Nothing in the bedroom. Doesn’t look like this guy was up for leaving anything out of place. My drill sergeants would have loved how tight his bed was made.”
“No way he could have locked this from the outside,” I say, gesturing to the door.
“Windows are all still locked.” Ramirez shakes his head and removes his gloves.
“My best guess is he jumped from the roof.”
“Same. Guess we’d better get up there too.” Ramirez sighs and takes another look around the apartment.
My senses are enhanced, my blood pumping. Something doesn’t feel right, but there’s nothing out of place. At least, not that I’ve noticed. Still, there’s a voice nagging at me, telling me that I’m not seeing the whole picture.
We leave the apartment and take the elevator up to the top floor. Then, we climb the steps up to the roof access. The doors open to yellow tape covering the threshold.
Ramirez pulls it down. Pea gravel crunches beneath my boots as I step into the bright sun. “He must have fallen from over here.” As I take my first step, three black crows drop onto the ledge in front of us. The bastards have been here every time I’ve nearly died.
I glance over at Ramirez to tell him we need to get the hell off this roof. He stops, and something crunches. An extra step that neither of us took.
“Get inside!” I roar at Ramirez as four men race out from behind the air conditioning ducts.
Ramirez backs away and draws his weapon. “Get down!” he yells seconds before he fires.
I don’t even have time to tell him our bullets are useless here.
Drawing my dagger, I send it flying, end over end, until it meets the target—sticking right between the eyes of the man nearest to my partner. With a roar, I race forward and drop to my hands, somersaulting and slamming the soles of both boots into the chest of another vamp.
He flies back and disappears over the edge of the roof. Seconds later, screams echo up from below.
“I shot him!” Ramirez yells, and I glance over just in time to see him wide-eyed and staring at the man sporting four new bullet holes.
"Get inside!" I order again, and he nods, turning on his heel. “Bolt the door!”
“Not without you!”
“Just fucking do it!” I reach down and pull another dagger from my boot before facing off with the three vampires who are fucking somehow out in the middle of the day. “I’ve got these assholes.”
Ramirez runs up beside me. “No way in hell I’m leaving you.”
I mutter a curse under my breath. “Then take this.” Handing him my blade, I reach back and grab my last one. “Don’t lose it. Aim for the heart if you can.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t question me, just nods.
“Hello, plaything,” one of the men growls.
“That’s sexist, and I’m offended,” I say. Then I race forward. I slam into one of the vamps, knocking him back. He bucks, rolling me over, and slams his fist into my jaw. Bones crunch, and copper fills my mouth.
But I don’t pause to accept the pain. I thrust my hips up, rolling us both over, and jam my blade into his throat. Blood sprays me as I rip it out, spinning just in time to see the vampire lean over and sink his teeth into my partner’s neck.
“No!” I roar and launch myself over. Right before I reach him, he pulls back and grins, blood dripping from his mouth. My shoulder slams into his side, and I knock him off Ramirez toward the edge of the roof.
In a massively unfortunate turn of events, he winds up on top of me. His fist impacts with my already broken jaw, but I bring my blade up into his side. He yells and bares fangs.
A gun goes off.
One shot.
Two shots.
The man above me jerks before getting to his feet, growling as he turns to face Ramirez.
I lift my leg and sweep his feet out from under him, and the last attacker falls over the railing and down to
the ground below.
“He-he fucking bit me.”
After getting to my feet, I rush toward Ramirez. He’s pale, blood dripping from his jugular where the vampire bit down. Thankfully, the bastard’s venom seals the wound so their victims don’t bleed to death right away.
So nice of them, right?
“I saw that.”
“What the hell were those things? There’s no fucking way they were—”
The roof access door bursts open, and five uniformed officers pour onto the roof, weapons drawn.
“They’re all dead,” I tell them.
“What happened?”
“They were waiting for us when we got up here.” Ramirez hands me my blade, and I lean down to slide it into the holster tucked away in my boot.
“Nearly took Astor over the side of the fucking roof with him.”
All eyes dart to me. “I’m fine,” I assure them. “Let’s get these assholes ID’d as quickly as possible.”
“You’ve got it.” The nearest officer holsters his weapon and begins to bark orders at the others who came up with him.
I turn, breathing deeply despite the throbbing in the side of my face. It hurts like hell and will be bruised for a good day or so, I’m sure. The bones are already knitting back together, the sharp pain shooting through my jaw and down the side of my throat into my collarbone.
“We need to get you to a paramedic,” I tell Ramirez.
He shakes his head in disbelief. “He fucking bit me.”
“He did.”
“His teeth—”
“They were long,” I say, guiding him toward the stairs. Humans have brushes with the supernatural constantly. You know when you’re standing outside in the dark and get that sensation that someone’s watching you? How every hair on the back of your neck stands on end, and you walk—sometimes run—as quickly as you can back inside to perceived safety?
Well, most of the time, there is something there—lurking in the shadows, just waiting for a chance to pounce. Most of the time, humans don’t even realize they’ve barely escaped death by simply taking another route or moving further beneath the light of a streetlamp.
But brushes like what Ramirez just experienced are fewer and far between. Typically, humans don’t get that close and live to tell about it.
We take the elevator down in complete silence, and by the time we step out onto the street, our captain is pulling up in her black Jeep.
“He was attacked,” I tell the paramedics through the uninjured side of my mouth. I’m sure it makes one hell of an impression.
“You look—”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Astor, what the hell happened?”
Paloma Reynolds strolls over to me, her black heels clicking against the concrete. She looks the same as she does every day, black slacks, white shirt, black suit jacket. Her hair is always pinned up at the back of her head in a tight bun, not a single dark strand out of place.
It’s impressive. Then again, she sits behind a desk all damn day.
“We were attacked on the roof.”
Her dark brown gaze lifts to the sky. “Who attacked you?”
“They were waiting for Ramirez and me when we got upstairs.”
“Any clue why?”
“N—”
“Someone’s trying to kill Astor.”
Motherclucker. I turn to Ramirez. “We don’t know that for sure.”
His neck bandaged, he winces when he nods. “Yes, we do. This isn’t the first time you’ve been targeted.”
“What does he mean?” Captain Reynolds tilts her head to the side.
I sigh. Guess there’s no way I’m getting out of this now. “There was the shooting when we were at that Darrell Smith’s house. Then someone put a bomb on my—” Cringe. —“boyfriend’s car last night.”
“So you were the target in that explosion. Any particular reason you weren’t there, waiting for help?”
“Someone pulled me from the wreckage, took me to try to get help.”
“Your boyfriend?”
I shake my head. “The guy thought he was already dead.”
“I read that report this morning. There were no casualties.”
“I know. The man thought he was dead. He ended up being fine. Was just unconscious, and the person who pulled me out apparently didn’t know how to check a pulse.”
Captain Reynolds bites down on her bottom lip before glancing back up at the roof. “And you think tonight was a target, too.” It wasn’t a question, so I don’t bother answering. “I think it’s probably best if you sit out for a bit.”
“What? No!”
“We need to find out who’s targeting you, Rainey.” She uses my first name, a power move to be sure. Trying to scold me like a parent would an unruly child. “Ramirez almost died today. If you aren’t going to do it for you, do it for him. If you’re a target, you’ll make him one too.”
Dammit, she’s right.
“Just take some time off, lay low. We’ll see if we can’t figure out what the hell is going on.”
I nod.
“And Rainey? If you don’t stay out of this, I’ll put you in police protection.”
I grind my teeth together. “Understood.”
“Good. Go home, both of you. We’ll get this taken care of.”
Ramirez and I walk side by side toward our vehicles. He stops right in front of his car, his hand only inches from the door handle, when he turns to me. “He bit me,” he repeats again. “You saw that, right?”
“He did. I saw the whole thing.” My heart aches for him because I know what he’s going through. Not firsthand, but I’ve seen humans spiral before. It’s a slippery slope, and I wish more than anything I could just come clean about it all.
But not knowing is a hell of a lot safer. At least, for now.
“Why would he bite me? And the one I shot—he just kept coming.”
“I have no clue what those guys were on,” I lie. “Get some rest. I’m sure you’ll feel better after Kamie dotes on you. Call me if you get any updates?”
“You’re probably right. Just a crazy-ass afternoon is all. I’ll let ya know if anything comes in.” He waves and climbs into his car while I fire up my bike and pull out onto the street. I have no damned clue where I’m even going. Reynolds is right. Anyone around me is a target right now.
Jane could be killed if someone thinks that’s how they can get to me.
And with everything else I’ve already lost, I don’t know that I could stand losing someone else.
I truly don’t think I’d survive it.
27
Elijah
Dressed in fresh slacks and a button-down shirt, I take the elevator up to Rainey’s apartment. Since she’s not answering her phone, I have no damned clue if she’s going to want to meet tonight, and the not knowing is bothering me more than I care to admit.
It shouldn’t. She’s not my responsibility, and yet, after three failed attempts on her life—the alley, shooting, and then the car last night—I can’t help but want to be with her at all times. To protect her until she no longer needs it.
There’s a hell of a lot at stake right now. Just one being the emails Delaney set up for her to receive. My brain’s been racing over what important information she might have for her and so far? I’ve got a whole hell of a lot of nothing.
The elevator dings, and I step off, instantly turning toward Rainey’s apartment. The walk is short, and I knock lightly on the door as soon as I’m in front of it. I checked the garage, and her motorcycle is downstairs, so I know she’s home.
There’s no answer, so I knock again.
Answer the bloody door, Rainey.
Still no answer. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my lockpick set and get to work on her door. I could simply force the knob to turn, but that would break the lock, and there’s no way in hell she won’t kick my ass for that one. So instead, I take the route that feels as though it puts hours between us rather than
sheer seconds.
The lock clicks, so I shove the door open and walk inside, my adrenaline surging. Why didn’t she answer? Preparing myself for the worst, I move further into the apartment, heart thudding heavily against my chest. There’s no blood in the air, no sign of a struggle, but it doesn’t ease my nerves.
If she’s dead—a blade whirs past my ear, and I move to the side just in time to avoid another. “What the fuck?”
“Elijah?”
“Yes, who the hell else would I be? The damned Easter Bunny?”
Light floods the apartment, and I’m treated to the sinfully sexy sight of Rainey wearing nothing but a pair of underwear and a white tank top. It’s fucking beautiful, even more so given her brown hair loose and wild around her face.
“First of all, the Easter Bunny’s not Irish. You’d more likely be a Leprechaun. And second, why the fuck are you in my apartment at midnight?”
“You didn’t answer your phone.”
“I was asleep.” She turns, and I catch the sight of a fading bruise on the side of her cheek. Rushing forward, I’ve got my fingers brushing against her delicate skin before I can stop myself.
She shivers.
Something surges through me—a desire so strong it nearly knocks me to my knees. Still, I don’t remove my hand as I run my fingers along her strong jaw. “What happened?”
“I was attacked on a roof at a crime scene.”
“By who?”
“Vampires.”
Narrowing my gaze, I stare down at her. “Tonight?”
She shakes her head. “About ten-thirty this morning.”
“But that’s not possible. There are no other Day Walkers in Billings.”
“Apparently, your information is off.” She pulls away, and I let my hand drop. “Because they sure as hell were vampires.”
“You’re sure?” If there are other Day Walkers in town, this could mean the start of something bigger than a mere hunter’s bounty. If they’re here, it could mean war.
“They took a bite out of Ramirez and nearly threw me off a roof. Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Fuck. Is your partner okay?”
“Shaken up, not quite sure why someone he shot four times managed to sink his teeth into him.”
Blood Hunt Page 18