by Sarra Cannon
He rolled to his back, dragging her atop him, holding her close. She placed her head upon his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. After a few minutes, his light snores brought a smile to her lips as they mingled with the gentle rhythm. As she closed her eyes, basking in afterglow, she thought she could stay this way for a long time to come.
When a piercing ring ricocheted across the room, she popped her head up. Talon’s eyes shot open. She kissed his chest and said, “Well, at least time with you is never boring.”
Chapter 21
GRAND LUX HOTEL, CALGARY, ALBERTA
Talon’s cell started firing like a car alarm, breaking him from a peaceful sleep. The annoying ringtone signaled an unknown caller. Sera rolled off him and sat up. Her arms snaked the blanket around her breasts. “What’s up?”
“Dunno.” He stumbled over to his discarded jeans, then dug the cell from the pocket. He flipped over the screen and stared at the Blocked message. A tingling sensation crept along his skin. He shrugged it off and held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hello, Agent Rede. So good of you to take my call.” The words rasped over the line as if years of neglect rendered the caller’s voice useless. “Put me on speaker, please.”
“Who is this?” Talon squeezed the cell.
“We’ll get to that, I assure you.” He coughed twice. “I’d far prefer to say this to all in your company.”
“Alright, start talking.” The phone clicked to speaker mode as he placed it on the corner nightstand and pulled on his clothes.
“Good agents of the PCD and Sera, since I assume she is with you as well, I’m afraid we’ve come to a bit of a crossroad.” Talon’s jaw tightened. The caller paused. Sera stared at him with wide eyes. “You see, you have something I want, and now, I have something you want.”
Talon went to switch the phone off speaker, but Sera held a hand over his wrist and shook her head. A sudden sharpness in her eyes, gold bleeding into brown, stopped him from erupting. “Go on,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Not too long ago, agents from your PCD entered a location in Calgary’s glorious suburbs. I believe they were looking for me.”
The blackmailer? Sera mouthed the words.
Talon snorted and asked the question aloud. “So, you’re the one blackmailing the senator?”
“Yes. Very astute of you, Agent Rede.” A shuffling sounded in the background. “Now, as I was saying, unfortunately for your agents I expected their visit and set a small trap.” Scraping noises accompanied the caller’s words. “Well, perhaps not small.”
“Where are they?” The cell nearly broke in Talon’s palm as he clutched it off the stand and fisted the device.
“Temper, temper. You’ll be happy to know they’re both alive. Though, neither can be considered well at the moment.” A click and a rush of air signaled the caller switched to speaker mode too. “Here, tell your friend your names.”
“Go to hell.” A pissed off Jame growled.
“Now, now.” The blackmailer said before a slap and a feminine grunt of pain. “Behave.”
“Talon, we’re okay. He drugged us, so we can’t shift.” Slick shouted over the commotion. “We’ll be fine. Don’t give this bastard anything.”
A sickening thud that sounded too much like metal hitting bone echoed over the call. A door slammed and the call grew quiet again.
“Son of a bitch,” Talon roared. The shifter’s buzz started deep in his skull and vibrated down his spine.
“None of that.” The blackmailing bastard said with eerie calm, “I’ve kept them alive. You should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you?” His hands sprouted fur, the nails elongating into claws.
“If you want something, spit it out,” Sera said addressing the caller and brushing a hand up Talon’s arm. The soothing caress refused to appease his rage, but he managed to get his shift under control. “Provoking him with his agents’ lives isn’t going to get you what you want.”
“Sera.” The sicko cooed her name. “I’ve been waiting a long time.”
“Who...” Sera’s body tensed. He gripped the nape of her neck and massaged, a gesture he hoped eased her as much as her touch had done for him. She exhaled and shot him a weak smile. To the caller, she said, “Who are you?”
“The phone is far too impersonal for such a revelation, angel.” A distinct crackling echoed, the unmistakable strike of a match lighting. “Which gets me to my point. You, Agent Rede, will bring Sera to Blue Rock Warehouse off Route 1 in exactly one hour. No back up. No weapons.” Talon’s threatening grumble warned the blackmailer, but he continued, “You will hand her over to me and I will return your agents to you. Simple. However, if you do not comply, I’ll burn your agents alive and send you what’s left of them.”
“If you think for one second—” Talon said.
“We’ll be there.” Sera snatched the phone from his grip, spun away from his hand at her nape, and rose to stand at the opposite side of the bed.
“Wise choice. See you then.”
Sera ended the call and threw the phone on the bed. Talon tracked the movement as he stalked her. His upper body vibrated with suppressed rage. Pointed nails dug into his biceps as his arms crossed over his chest. Black fur covered his forearms. His eyes simmered with violence, morphing them to the wolf’s deep golden glow.
Sera skirted around the king size bed to grab her clothes. “I told him that to get him off the line. We’ll come up with a plan.”
“No,” he said. The booming growl rang out low and firm. “You’ll stay right here.”
“Talon, I can help with this. I’ve wanted to get to the truth and now I’m the best shot to—” His hands shot out to grip her shoulders. The claws retracted leaving soft paw pads to land on her.
“I’m not putting you in danger. Not for any reason. Do you understand?” The strain to fight back the shift mixed with his fear of losing her. It left him in a ridiculous half wolf, half human form.
“I can more than defend myself in case you forgot.” She pouted her lips and patted his hand. Fire shot up his arm and she smiled. “But let’s figure out how to rescue your friends without walking into a trap, okay?”
The beast roared inside him, not assuaged by her calm logic. She’s being rational. Be the same. His hands shifted to normal with painful self-control. A caveman instinct overwhelmed his senses. He imagined hoisting her up, throwing her on the bed, and showing her why she’d be doing as he said. Her cries of satisfaction from earlier echoed in his ears.
“Talon.” His name upon her lips drew him to the present problem—getting her to listen.
He inhaled a shaky breath and put his thoughts in order. “We have one hour to figure this out. I need to check in with District 8 PCD and see what they know.” He mentally patted himself on the back for sounding so unruffled. “Stay here and put together a list of everything we know about the blackmailer. The more we know, the better prepared we can be.” And the safer you’ll be.
“You want me to sit here and write a list?” She pulled on her jeans, her eyebrows raised.
“Yes. You’re a journalist, aren’t you? Looking at the facts should be second nature.” He inclined his head, baiting her and calling her skills into question.
“I can do it.” She leapt to the desk and pulled a pad from the drawer. “How soon do you want it?”
He hesitated and caught the flicker of doubt in her eye. “Thirty minutes. That’ll give me enough time to get to District 8’s office, go over the details with them, and come back here.” He flashed a wolfish grin. “Think you can handle it?”
“Uh-huh. You just get your ass back here in time to rescue your agents.” She ushered him away and took up a pen. Tapping it along the writing pad, she whipped her head around to level him with a glare. “You still here?”
“I’m going.” He ran a hand through her hair and squeezed her shoulder. His eyes trailed down her chest where she’d neglected to put on her shirt. Bu
rning desire stung him despite their earlier tryst and he had to turn away. “Be thorough. I’m counting on you.”
“Sure,” she said, biting the pen cap. “See you soon.”
He took one last look at her and closed the door behind him. You’re doing this for her safety. The task will distract her while you meet with the team and come up with a plan. Then you can deal with keeping her away from the action. He banged his fist against the elevator call button. The pep talk did nothing to relieve his guilt.
As he left the hotel—after reiterating his orders to the receptionist, and the concierge, and the head of security about Sera’s safety—he checked the perimeter a final time. The safe house, even in the form of the hotel, was one of the most secure in the PCD system. It still didn’t seem enough protection for her. He scrubbed a hand down his face, wondering how in the hell he’d gone this soft over some woman.
“Because she’s not just some woman, asshat.” He cared about her. He might even lov—. Shit, so not the time. He started the truck and jacked up the radio. Get your head in the game. The hard rock beats drowned his thoughts, but couldn’t stop his heart from pounding.
Chapter 22
PCD DISTRICT 8 HEADQUARTERS, CALGARY, ALBERTA
“Alright kiddies, you’ve had your fun.” Drake shouted between the titanium bars, “You can’t keep me locked up here forever.” He paced the same six feet over again. Confinement did not suit his image at all. “I’m a vampire, morons. I’ve got centuries. You’re wasting your time.”
“Cállate la boca, vampire.” District 8’s second-in-command, another bleeding shifter, rounded the corner. They called this one, Shooter. Drake had met him once before. The man’s long beaklike nose and charming personality were hard to forget. “Give your mouth a rest.”
“Now, where would the joy in that be my little feathered friend?” He grinned and showed off two very long, very sharp fangs.
“That supposed to scare me?” Shooter tapped the bars with a shotgun.
“What would give you that impression?” Drake’s smile widened as he stepped close enough to inhale the shifter’s two-dollar aftershave.
“Behave, chico.” Shooter flashed a smile of his own.
The wily bastard backed up and rested a booted foot against the far wall, a hair outside of Drake’s reach. The shotgun pointed toward the floor, but remained firm in Shooter’s hands. Thing was loaded with explosive bullets—a precaution the PCD lead pain in the ass, Valkyrie, had claimed. Not that Drake gave a shit about it. He hadn’t lived over a hundred plus years without taking a bullet or two—or okay, like twenty-six—but really who was counting. And yeah, so none of them had been the UV blasting, laser ripping, explosive type. But bullets of any kind didn’t matter unless they struck the heart, and that never happened. Proof in the pudding, Drake was still kicking while his enemies decomposed.
“Buzzkill. Anyone ever told you, your mother looks like a—” Drake would’ve loved to rile the shifter with all types of slurs against his mother—you learned some in a century and a half—but unfortunately, that party died with Talon’s approach. “Ah good. It’s been too long, chief. Come to spring me, eh?”
Talon’s bright blue gaze burned with an unyielding fire. “If it were up to me, you’d rot in that cell for the rest of your very long life.”
“Oh, come on now, you’re not one to hold a grudge.” He retracted his fangs and mustered an almost innocent expression. “I would’ve held Strife for the team, but you know, maker and all. Kinda hard to get around the whole I made you and you owe me thing.”
“I don’t give a shit about that vamp bitch right now.” Drake didn’t miss the vibrations ranking Talon’s body as if the man had been caught in the wrong end of a blender. “I want to know everything you know, every piece of intel you gathered on Sera from the underground, and whoever is after her. And I want it now.”
Drake’s ears perked up. The blatant dismissal of Strife meant shit had hit the fan. “Fill me in. What’s the situation?” Bloody hell, he hated sounding pathetic, but damn-it-all if he didn’t want to be kept in the loop.
“Go get the scoop from Val and let me handle this asshat.” Talon turned, addressing Shooter, and giving Drake his back—deliberate disrespect. Drake laughed aloud, knowing the shifter all too well.
“Yes, do be a good little bird and fly, fly away.” When the taunt failed to get either shifter’s attention, he howled and continued poking. “The dog and I have much to discuss.”
“Want me to take him out?” Shooter leveled the butt of the shotgun against his shoulder and took aim. “I don’t have to hit the heart. Can leave ‘em with a nasty head rush instead.”
“No. I need him coherent.” Talon palmed the barrel of the gun. “But I’ll borrow this if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, amigo.” The gun passed hands. Shooter shook out an extra round of bullets from a case at his belt and handed them to Talon. “Enjoy,” he said, waving a goodbye as he trotted down the hall.
“Nice guy.” He sat on the poor excuse for a bench inside his cell and patted the seat beside him. “Now, why don’t you come on in and we can chat.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” A deafening boom rang out as Talon pulled the shotgun chest height and fired into the cell. Drake’s eardrums throbbed and his hands covered them in an effort to stifle the pain. The click-click of the shell case emptying from the gun’s chamber followed the racket, but sounded even louder to his now sensitive ears.
“What the bleeding hell, man?” The English slang seeped into Drake’s speech with his shock. When the speedy vampiric healing fixed his inner ear canals, he jumped up, slammed into the bars, and bore his fangs.
“That was a warning shot.” Talon’s dark hair fell to his shoulders as he slanted his head. His face caught between the wolf’s primal rage and the man’s thirst for action. “Next one goes in your kneecap.”
I could rip these bars apart and take off your bloody head before you fired another shot. The knowledge didn’t settle Drake’s anger, but it did put things in perspective. Ha! And Jame always said he couldn’t find perspective with two hands and a flashlight. Eat that, Kitkat. The thought of Jame eased his foul mood, but an undercurrent of restlessness thrummed along his mind.
“Understood.” He bit back, then attended to his real interest—finding out about Jame. “Where’s the rest of the troops? Didn’t want to face me again, huh?”
The buzz in Talon’s body ceased and his face blanched. He sucked in a ragged breath. When he spoke again, his words drew out harsh and low. “They’re not here.”
“Bullocks, Talon,” Drake whispered darkly, not bothering to hide the emotion brimming under the surface. “Enough games. We can play at this later. Tell me what happened. Where is she?”
“I don’t know.” To his credit, the shifter didn’t bother to pretend to misunderstand the she. “Jame and Slick were drawn into a trap by the same psychopath who’s blackmailing Sera’s father. We think he’s using new made vamps or phage in the murders and the attempts to abduct Sera.”
“You’re telling me some nutter who thinks himself a god has Jame?” A spring coiled deep within his gut. The tension mounted, extending to every muscle. His temples throbbed to a staccato beat. The air in the cell grew bitter.
“Team eight’s already using their resources to track them down. Bull’s been sent south with two of their agents on a possible lead.” Talon placed the shotgun on the wall beside him. The wolf receded and shallow lines etched around his eyes. “But we have a deadline.”
“Let me out of here.” Darkness gnawed at his mind, a festering malignancy. The vampire nature beckoned. Allowing it to wash over him, even for a moment would threaten his soul, but oh the freedom. He gripped the bars, fighting for control. “We both know I could shred these pathetic metal bars like a silk scarf. So, let me out of here and let’s get to work.”
“We don’t need your help on this one. This isn’t your territory. You don’t know the und
erground scene here.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’m only telling you out of respect.” Talon leaned against the hallway’s dull gray wall. His head held erect while his eyes blazed blue fire. “We’ll find them.”
Drake studied the shifter. He’d known Talon for years. They’d met chasing after the same baddie, a sick bastard who got his kicks by preying on little girls. The crimes had hit too close to Drake’s past and he’d gone after the creep without the consent of Veritas. Granted he didn’t need the group’s permission, having left it decades prior, but without their support, he had a hard time tracking the psycho. When he came across a young PCD agent investigating the same crimes, he agreed to work with him. Together they’d discovered the sicko’s hiding place and took him down before he could hurt another little girl. Talon didn’t know it, then or now, but the murdering psychopath had been a phage.
“You mentioned a deadline?” Drake slid from the edge, a firm mask slipping over his face. He lost control far too often, but doing so now would cost them time.
“Yes,” Talon said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “One hour.” He brought his wrist up and stared at his black leather watch. “Actually make that thirty minutes. Shit. Where did the time go?”
Shoving his hands deep in his coat pockets, he let the warring emotions wash over him before projecting an air of calm. His gaze remained stoic, an impassive disguise. Inside, however, his worry over Jame’s safety wreaked havoc. “I can find them faster than anyone.” He made sure to include them to win over the stubborn shifter, but truth be told, he didn’t give a damn about Slick. Then again, if anyone was going to damage the half-breed, it was going to be him. “I’ve had Jame’s blood. I can track her.”