by Sarra Cannon
“Pup, where the hell are you?” His question remained unanswered. “Bloody half-breed.” Jame coughed and his insides twisted. He’d risk her safety no longer. As he turned to take her out of this nightmare, his boot met a fleshy surface. A low grunt and a hiss of pain confirmed the pup’s presence. “There you are.” Drake placed Jame on the floor, cradling her head and propping her against the wall. “I’ll be right back.”
“Urgh.” Slick groaned as Drake removed his foot from the shifter’s midsection.
“Sorry about that, mutt. But, in fairness, you hardly made your presence known.”
“Shell...on...vam...arr.” His incoherent ramblings broke between rough breaths.
“Yeah, same to you.” Drake hauled the pup over his shoulder with a quick tug. “We’ll argue later.”
Lacking two more free hands, he had no choice but to drag Jame over his other shoulder. “Sorry, luv.” Once he had a firm grip on both shifters, he sped about the room. Valkyrie and Shooter managed to get the door ajar, but didn’t appear in the entryway. He pushed Slick through the narrow opening, then bent low and crawled. Free from the suffocating stench, he gulped in air, and reached inside to pull Jame to safety. Her body relaxed as soon as Drake sealed the door, cutting off the poisons.
Valkyrie called from the next room. “Are they okay?” She and Shooter appeared without sound, gliding like animals on the prowl.
“Alert the press, looks like someone finally listened to me,” Drake said, holding Jame against him.
“Sort of.” Valkyrie frowned and shot a remorseful look at Shooter. “We tried to get in, but when we opened the door, we didn’t react well—”
“You were right, amigo.” Shooter interrupted. Drake wasn’t lost to the fact that the agent used the word friend instead of bloodsucker or some other clever nickname. “The air was poisoned. Apparently,” he narrowed his eyes at Valkyrie, “It causes the muscles to atrophy on the spot.”
“Hard to shift when you can barely move.” Drake coddled Jame close to his chest and rose to his feet. “Clever bastard.”
Shooter knelt to hoist Slick over his shoulder and grunted at his burden.
“Why don’t you let me—” Valkyrie moved a hand to Slick’s thigh, but Shooter swatted her away.
“Stop feeling guilty. One of us had to go in.” He adjusted for the weight by placing a supporting hand over the other shifter’s lower back. “I’d rather take the brunt of it.”
“This is all very entertaining.” Drake clucked. “And while I wouldn’t mind holding this sweet wonder all night, I think we need to get them to a hospital.”
“And Talon still needs our help.” Valkyrie led them to the exit, texting as she went. “I’m going to let him know our team is safe. I want you two,” she pointed to Shooter and Drake, “to get them medical support ASAP. I’m going to backup Talon.”
“Not a chance,” Shooter said. His red-rimmed eyes strained at the corners, casting streaks along his temples. “You’re not going it alone.”
Her spine straightened. The ridges along her slender back disappearing behind her plain black shirt. She spun in a tight circle, her mouth set in a grim line. “Hobs and Delta are in Black Diamond with thirteen’s agent, Bull. It’s over an hour away. You’ve been exposed to toxins. There’s no one else to back him up and we’re not leaving him.”
Drake coughed. “Eh hem.” He brushed passed the agents and settled his precious cargo into the backseat of the Land Rover. She nestled into a ball and he resisted the urge to cocoon his body around her. She seemed so fragile. Not at all like herself. Switching back to the arguing shifters, he relieved Shooter of his burden and shoved Slick into the backseat with a little less care than he’d shown Jame—okay, so he may have dropped him in. So what?
As the shifters continued to snipe at each other, he slammed the car door. “Enough.” He pointed a finger at Shooter. “You’ve been exposed and need to be checked out.” Shooter bristled and leveled Drake with a lethal stare. “I don’t like docs myself so I sympathize. But there it is. You need to drive them.” He yanked open the driver’s side door and swept a hand inside. When Shooter didn’t budge, he sighed and approached Valkyrie. “And you have no backup with half your team over a hundred miles away. You’d be a fool to go alone.” His fangs sprung free as his hunger rose. Not a great time for a snack. “You might be a beeatch,” he spat. “But you’re not a fool. So, the way I see it, I’m your only answer.”
A biting wind cut the night sharper than a razor. It whipped around Drake, plastering his spiky hair to his scalp and tearing at his clothes. When a groan escaped Valkyrie, the current died. She ran a hand through her dark locks. “You’re right.”
“What about the beeatch part?” He grinned.
She growled a warning. “Don’t be cute. It doesn’t work for vamps.” Fishing in her pocket, she extracted a set of keys and tossed them to Shooter. “Take them to the hospital, then get yourself looked at.” The shifter made to speak, but Valkyrie cut him off. “No. I’m making it a direct order. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“I don’t like it,” Shooter muttered, fisting the keys.
“Neither do I, but it is what it is.” A buzzing sound drew all their eyes to Valkyrie’s hand. Her cell vibrated. She checked the message. “Talon’s almost to the warehouse, but he doesn’t know how much of a head start Ms. Benenati has on him.”
“Ha. That girl’s a real pain in the ass. I doubt she’ll wait for the cavalry.” Drake rubbed the nape of his neck. The sky grew darker as the night wore on. They were running out of time. “For that matter, neither will Talon.”
“Then, we better haul ass, wouldn’t you say?” Valkyrie squeezed Shooter’s hand in a silent goodbye and walked to the street.
Drake followed without looking back. He knew Jame would be safe, but not being by her side as she laid injured, tore at his gut. He put a stranglehold on the emotions and concentrated on their mission. He might not be a PCD agent, but he cared about Talon and Bull. Bloody hell, if he was honest, even the half-breed Slick had grown on him—not that the mutt would ever know. So if he had to backup Valkyrie to aid Talon, he’d do it. No question.
A wry smile played on his lips. “We’ve got some ground to cover without a car.”
Valkyrie’s smirk lit up her dark eyes like polished onyx. She waved him over to a red Corvette sitting on the side of the road. In under a minute, she had the lock popped, the alarm cut off, and the engine hotwired. The move kicked her up a few notches on Drake’s chart; not enough to like her or anything, but maybe he’d toss the beeatch label. Maybe. Slinking inside, she rammed the car into drive and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Ready?”
Moving with supernatural speed, he sped into the passenger seat. He tapped her shoulder as she stared at the spot where he’d stood a second ago. “Made ready.”
She rolled her eyes at his vampire pun and floored the gas. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter 25
BLUE ROCK WAREHOUSE, CALGARY OUTSKIRTS, ALBERTA
Talon stared at the phone, reading the text twice. Valkyrie’s message helped relieve some of the knots from his muscles. Knowing his team no longer resided in the hands of some psychopath enabled him to concentrate on Sera. Now, if he could just ensure she didn’t get herself killed, maybe then his heart would stop banging against his ribs.
“I can’t believe she pulled this stunt.” When he’d pulled up to the hotel he’d found fire trucks swarming the place. All the air expelled from his lungs at the sight. After storming to Sera’s room, he’d seen the note she left him. It read plainly, I’m sorry. - Sera. No more. No explanation. He didn’t need any. The fire and her disappearance said it all. She was going to trade herself for his agents’ lives, and she was doing it alone.
“Seven Hells!” He slammed his fists into the steering wheel for oh, about the tenth time. “Why didn’t she wait?” His team was safe now. She didn’t need to do this. “Because she knew I’d stop her. Damn it.”
As the truck’s tires sprayed dirt and gravel along the road and the warehouse entrance came into view, he grimaced at the silver Porsche on the street and the door standing wide open. A bad sign for sure. He checked his watch. Ten minutes past the deadline. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
He rushed out the truck, palmed his gun, and slid inside. The hanging fluorescent lights blinked and shook, casting harsh glows along the floor and walls. He shifted without conscious thought to the owl’s eyes, utilizing the animal’s sharp night vision. The large rounded lenses absorbed the light and enabled him to see the full scope of the warehouse.
The rows of stacked boxes and enormous crates blocked the aisles and provided too many blind spots for an attacker to hide. He cursed and shifted again, this time opting for a grizzly’s nose. Smoke and burnt flesh filled the thousands of tiny receptors. He gagged at the stench, but it came out as a strangled roar.
Trusting his own senses amongst the vicious odors, he shifted to normal and followed the scent trail. Aisles in, he spotted the carnage. Heavy smoke coated the area. Shredded boxes spilled their contents onto the floor. Piles of dirt littered the ground. Talon stalked closer, peering through the dense haze.
A moaning from the end of the row caught his attention. He raised his gun chest high and pointed it toward the sound. The outline of a man emerged as he pushed forth from the smoke. “This is the PCD,” Talon said. “Put your hands in the air.”
No response. Chancing a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw no one behind him. Using the right most stacks as coverage, he tried to keep as little of his back exposed as possible. When he dared a closer look, he noticed the man sat on the ground, his head hung low. He kept his gun aimed on the man’s head, until he spotted the blood. A pile of it covered the floor.
Talon lowered his weapon and reached for his cell. “This is PCD agent, Talon Rede. I need a bus to the Blue Rock Warehouse off Route 1.”
Kneeling down, he tried to find a pulse. When his fingers pushed at the charred skin of the man’s throat, the head rolled. Talon leapt back and gaped at the sight. A dime sized hole spewed blood from the man’s forehead, while his cheeks housed two round burn marks. He turned from the dead man to inspect the scene and cancel the ambulance. But, as he spun, an iron grip circled his ankle and pulled him to the ground. His gun flew from his hands and the impact caused his teeth to rattle. He kicked at the hand, rounding on whatever grabbed him.
A strained voice hissed, “Meat.”
“What in all the—” Talon’s words cut short as he looked on the dead—or rather, undead—man. The hole in the stranger’s forehead spit out a bullet and began to close. The burnt skin of his cheeks puckered, then smoothed over with a new layer. “Shit.”
“I need meat.” The man spat. Two black eyes bulged from their sockets. His bottom jaw extended, revealing rows of fangs. He lunged for Talon’s leg, chomping and gnawing the air.
“Phage.” Talon pulled away and climbed to his feet, staring at the creature. It looked the same as Sera had described, except this one had scars covering the whole side of his forehead, cheek and jaw. He kept his face a stoic mask, but his gut clenched. The damn thing made him sick.
A hideous laugh bubbled from between its long teeth. “Matt, actually. And you must be Agent Rede.”
“You’re the blackmailer?” Talon shuffled a step away, spotting his gun from the corner of his eye. He calculated whether diving for the weapon or shifting to something nasty—preferably with claws—would give him the better advantage.
“Oh you’re a quick one.” The eyes shrunk into its head. The pointed incisors shortened to fit into its mouth. “Apologies about the biting. But we tend to wake up hungry after our deaths.”
“Well, now I know you’re not dead,” Talon swiped his gun from the floor in a single step and leveled it at Matt’s chest, “you’re under arrest.”
“Really?” Matt rose, a slather of ashen skin flaked off him.
“The dirt piles,” Talon muttered to himself as the skin flakes bunched together in a heap, “like a phoenix from the ashes.” He shook his head at the connection, but kept the phage bastard sighted in his line of fire. “Yeah. Now, I suggest you put your hands up.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll be forced to take more drastic action.”
The infuriating laughter filled the empty warehouse again. “Then, how will you ever find out what happened to Sera?”
“Well, since bullets clearly don’t kill you, I suppose I’ll have to settle.” Talon adjusted his aim and fired. The target struck dead on.
Matt’s howl of pain echoed through the aisle. He fell on his ass, clutching his leg. A warm stream of blood flowed from his shattered kneecap. “Son of a bitch.”
“Agent Rede!” The feminine screech caught Talon off guard and he swung his gun around.
“Whoa, easy chief,” Drake said as the barrel’s mouth whirled by the vamp’s face.
“Talon, what the hell are you doing?” Valkyrie eyed the man on the ground with suspicion, then leveled her gaze on Talon.
“An interrogation,” Talon said. “What’s it look like?” He shrugged, pointing the gun at Matt. “This here is our blackmailer. And he was just about to tell me where Sera is.” He aimed for the bastard’s other knee. “Weren’t you?”
Curses and incoherent ramblings sputtered from Matt’s lips as his jaw elongated again, revealing four inch teeth. Valkyrie’s jaw dropped, but Drake looked downright stoic as he observed the transformation.
“Phage,” the vamp uttered through distended fangs. He took a step forward, swatting Valkyrie aside.
Talon let one hand off his gun to grab the pissed vamp by his arm. “Hey, Drake. Don’t you still owe me for letting you out of jail?”
Drake snorted, never taking his eyes off the suspect. “Aren’t you the one who ordered me arrested in the first place?”
“True, but I’ll make it up to you.” Talon swiped his cuffs from his pocket and dangled them in front of Drake. “I’ll let you do the honors.”
The vamp seized the handcuffs. “My pleasure,” he said, flashing a sneer. He disappeared too quick to track. One minute he stood with cuffs in hand, the next he knelt behind the suspect, throwing the asshat to the ground and shackling his wrists.
Valkyrie huffed. “This is against protocol.”
“Screw that,” Talon said, fixing her with a hard stare.
Her eyes widened. “Are you kidding me, Mr. Joe Honor? You want to go against procedure?”
Talon looked away from her, his silence more damning than admission. His memories swirled.
Bram patting him on the back, a firm but gentle tap. “Duty before everything.”
No, not before everything. Not anymore. Talon thought. Not before family. Not before my team. Not before...Sera.
His gun remained level at the suspect’s knee even as Drake hauled the bastard upright. He smirked as the jackass hopped on one leg, the bones from his shattered knee not quite healed. “You want to read him his rights, go ahead,” he said to Valkyrie. “But I’m getting answers from him one way or the other.”
“Fine.” She threw up her hands. “Let’s just get him back to base first.” Waving them down the aisle, she took point leading the way out of the warehouse.
“Sure you want to do this in front of witnesses?” Drake aimed his question at Talon.
Valkyrie spun around with murder in her eyes. “No one in my department is a snitch.” Her body hummed with tension that radiated small circles in the air. “You want answers, you’ll get answers. Now, let’s go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Drake saluted and pushed the hopping phage down the row. “You coming?”
“Yeah, meet you out,” Talon said, putting his gun away. He watched them exit the row, then scooped a handful of the dirt sample into his jacket pocket. Watching the ashes flake off that phage bastard had given him the answer behind the mysterious dirt piles, but if he wanted to link the crimes, he needed evidence. Al
though, taking that motherless prick into a back alley and shooting him dead—again—wasn’t off the list either. “Where the hell did that come from?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. An image of Sera flashed into his mind and he knew where the need came from. “Fuck me.” He kicked at a metal crate.
“Nah, you’re not my type.” Drake appeared midway down the aisle, leaning against a stack of boxes.
“What’re you doing now?”
“Coming to retrieve you. We stuffed the wanker in the back of your truck. And I knocked him out for good measure.” He titled his head to one side in a gesture of innocence. “Seemed like a smart thing considering his need for meat. Though, Valkyrie didn’t agree.”
“Well, it’s a good thing she’s not in charge.” Talon walked passed him toward the exit.
“Good thing, indeed.” Drake followed behind.
He stopped in his tracks. Turning to Drake, he said, “Thanks for getting the team to safety. And for getting here.” His eyebrows rose. “How did you get here so fast?”
“No thanks required, chief.” Drake flashed a grin and slapped him on the shoulder. “As for getting here, don’t look at me.” They exited the warehouse, and Drake pointed to a fiery red Corvette. “The hellcat hotwired that and drove us.”
Talon let out a chuckle. The first genuine amusement he’d felt in awhile. “Nice.”
“Uh-huh. Not bad at all.”
Valkyrie waved at them from behind the driver’s seat of the Chevy. “Let’s get going. I need to get this thing back to the owner.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Drake clapped his hands, then shoved an elbow in Talon’s side. “Her sense of duty remind you of anyone?”
Talon coughed and waved off the question. He checked on their passenger. The bastard laid out cold in the backseat. “You can wake him up, right? Cause I’m not waiting on him to come out of his little nap. We need to find Sera.”