by Rawlyns, Nya
The Captain motioned her men to continue forward. To Samuels she whispered, “The road curves to the right and goes up and around the top of that spur canal.” She used her hand to indicate the general direction. “I don’t expect any trouble until we reach that curve and it straightens out again.” Samuels mouthed ‘why’ so she explained. “There’s vegetation all along this side of the road but it stops when you get to that feeder canal. At that point the buildings are going to be outlined against the lights from the city.”
“So?”
“That puts us at a disadvantage, Sir. It effectively blinds us and we’re exposed.”
Samuels brushed a palm along the woman’s neck, the gesture intimate and assuring. He liked the shiver of anticipation, the slight uptick in her heart rate, the vein already distended, ready for him.
He spoke low, his lips grazing her ear, “Not to worry, my dear. That’s why we’re here.”
Pressing his hard length of muscle and sinew against the woman, Samuels reveled in the feel of the harsh ridges of her weapons competing with soft fleshy breasts. She liked to use both on him, it made her… a challenge, delectable. But that was a distraction, a reward, for later. Right now they needed to stay focused.
He reminded her, “Your job is to keep anyone from escaping back down this road or out into that swamp. We’ll do the rest.” She was melting against him, submitting, forgetting her place, her task. He chuckled and directed her back to her men, allowing just a frisson of lust to course through his veins before shutting it down. He sincerely hoped she lived through this night. He was in a serious case of like with her; she was the shiny new toy that didn’t break easily.
And best of all, she kept his mind off the two women who totally threatened to derail all his plans… and his emotions.
He had dozens of good reasons to rescue Damien but only two that mattered.
Ghosting toward a stand of tupelo he motioned for his guard to join him. The man took up a defensive position, scanning the area for snipers.
Samuels closed his eyes, stretching his senses.
Rinj, where the hell are you?
Rinj?
Walkens estimated how long it would take to find the silver haired girl, assuming she was still viable, and knew he was in deep shit. The vamps on his tail had split up, no longer worried about staying silent, having taken out the two rednecks on the porch. Unfortunately he’d misjudged just how long it would take for them to remove that little annoyance and then re-engage on his tail.
He had two choices: stop and wait for them to come to him, or move on and try to connect with the girl. He knew nothing about her but his gut told him she was his best bet for making it through the night.
He decided to make a run for it.
Catrina’s head snapped around, sending her platinum dreadlocks whipping about her face so hard the beads hurt as they impacted her cheek.
Damn it, Mags! I tole you… no vant dah mătanie.
Scenting carefully, she recognized the panic and sweat roiling off Walkens. He was on fast approach with another in hot pursuit. No, make that two. They smelled like fear, all of them. The vamps were boys, young, like her.
But not like her.
Catrina looked down at the human male kneeling on a patch of dried Bermuda grass, his neck lolling to the side. The puncture wounds still leaked as she had yet to fully close them off. Mags would be distraught at her untidiness, though she didn’t see the point, not really. Besides, he’d been… unsatisfying. A vintage too fresh for her tastes.
Walkens, on the other hand, appealed… in more ways than one.
Grasping the male’s head she gave a sharp twist and lift, the torso sagging to the ground, then pivoted on her right foot, the left arm swinging high and outside, launching the head at the vamp barreling toward her at the speed of night.
He never saw it coming. Nor did he see Catrina lift her bloodied fingers, the chant emerging from her full lips, thick and fast.
Walkens lost his footing on a patch of gore—the severed head had exploded on the hard ground like a melon spilling its contents. He skidded into Catrina who smiled shyly and moved to balance him before he tripped over the remains of the human and the vamp littering the ground at her feet. She stepped over the bodies and positioned his shorter frame behind her, hissing for him to remain silent.
Silent wasn’t something his lungs could handle. He was short of breath and aching in places he didn’t know existed after punching through a palmetto jungle. It was like breathing underwater, the air so thick, so filled with panic, it tangoed with his consciousness, leaving it to drift in and out. The tang of iron and copper pinched at the back of his throat, forcing him to swallow hard, but it didn’t help to dislodge the bile backing up, choking him. He tried not to think about the mass of dissolving flesh and bone nudging at his boots as the girl braced in front of him.
He was bookended between death and salvation. Neither seemed like a good deal.
He’d seen stuff in Iraq. But not this, nothing like this.
The girl, woman, vampire… whatever she was, she was murmuring in a language he didn’t recognize but it was like an old woman rolling her rosary beads, chanting the same words over and over and over, without intonation, head nodding to an ancient rhythm.
He was just tall enough to see over her shoulder, to see the shape advancing, bobbing and circling in some weird, lazy holding pattern, dark droplets hitting the parched soil. What was left of the creature oozed more than just blood. It looked like every body fluid was being wrung out of him—ears, eyes, nose, mouth, fingernails…
She wheezed, “Is enough, yes?” Then she turned as if expecting an answer.
He nodded, jerking his head up, down, up, never taking his eyes off the disintegrating form leaching into the sandy soil.
“Come. We return to vehicle.”
She took his hand and led him around the carnage. They sauntered, hand-in-hand, like lovers out for an evening stroll, back up the dark driveway. The girl helped him into the back of the limo and maneuvered him onto the rear bench seat. She knelt down and pressed his knees apart, her hands stroking his thighs, the heat penetrating the heavy twill of his cargo pants.
“I tink ve have time…”
He wanted to ask, ‘Time for what?’ but she answered his question with a dazzling smile, releasing the zipper before he was aware she’d moved. She freed his cock, stroking it expertly until it stood rigid. A single talon worried the slit, then traced the line of the vein all the way down to the soft sacs, then back up, this time with her tongue.
It hurt. It hurt so bad, to be that thick, that swollen with lust and need.
He squeezed his eyes shut tight, buried the gore, the horror of the evening, locking it away, focusing on the sensations of her hot moist mouth encasing his length. He lifted his hips, driving deep... gagging back a moan of ecstasy with every thrust, fucking her mouth, her throat, hard and fast.
The pain exploded like a million shards of fractured metal eating through his sensitive flesh from the inside out, so intense his fingernails raked the seat cushions in an agony and a wash of pleasure such as he’d never imagined. Time stopped, leaving him suspended, trembling with the spasms that never seemed to end.
The girl-woman finally released him, her fangs dripping with his blood and semen. He felt ill, nauseous, disoriented.
She stared up at him, her eyes the same silver shade as her hair, and asked playfully, “Do you vant more?”
“Oh God, yes.”
Rinj stopped abruptly, a hiss escaping his lips.
“Sir, what is it?”
The vampire whispered, “Nothing. It’s… nothing.”
Oh you bad, bad child. I shall have to discipline you, naughty girl. You promised…
Samuels interrupted, Rinj, where the hell are you and what’s happening?
We are below the house. They have Damien, confirmed, though the life signs grow weak. They know we are here. One of them is an adept.
Samuels replied, That makes sense. Something like this requires leadership, an elder. Can you tell me how many…?
There are two out-buildings, sheds. I feel one in the small structure, two in what might be a garage. They are frightened.
Good, then they’ll make mistakes. What about the main house?
Damien. The elder. Two others.
That’s not enough.
I agree. Watch your back, Samuels. They have tricks we don’t yet understand.
“Captain, a word, please.” Samuels led Reese aside, placing his body between her and her men. “Rinj says there are, at most, six in addition to Damien.”
“Six?” She frowned, considering the possibilities.
“Ah, then you feel as I do.”
“They are young?”
“Except for one.”
“Then, yes, that’s not enough to hold off a contingent our size.”
“Options?”
“When you don’t have enough personnel, then you must resort to other measures.”
“Like what?” Samuels had a feeling he knew what his captain would say next.
“Land mines. IEDs. The ground’s sandy, it’s easy enough to bury them and impossible to detect, especially at night.”
“Shit.”
Rinj, did you hear that?
Crap, yes. What do you want me to do?
Send your man to take the farthest shed. I’ll have Reese deploy one from this end. Let’s see just where these motherfuckers have buried their toys.
Then what.
Samuels chuckled to himself, Then I want you to reconsider what’s on your resume.
“You got a name, soldier?” Magda tired of getting the man’s attention with repeated ‘hey you’s.’
“They call me Smithy.”
“Because…”
The man smiled, his fangs stark white against his dark brown skin. “I was a blacksmith, ma’am… you know, before…”
“Well, Smithy, get ready to rock and roll.”
“Ma’am?”
She pointed to the mushrooming ball of fire igniting the sky in front of them.
Smithy pulled his pole out of the water and laid it next to Magda’s. The thrum of twin 125 hp Mercury outboard engines massaged the deck under their feet. Magda spun the wheel, easing them into the channel.
It wouldn’t be long now.
She really hoped the morphine was still working. Despite being a Cajun boy, raised on the bayou, Damien hated boats, hated the water.
He was definitely going to hate what she planned to do.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A Bridge Too Far
Reese motioned the man with the rocket launcher to approach. She had to shout to be heard above the cacophony of exploding mines. The fools had clustered them, the detonations ricocheting along the elevated mound, leaving the buildings in stark relief. She’d lost two good men for that advantage. She refused to lose anymore, no matter what Samuels ordered her to do.
Holding up two fingers, she pointed to the right of the house. Her man nodded and adjusted the sight, taking a bead on the garage.
Reese rolled and scurried closer to the road as the blue-gray smoke and launching flash pinpointed their location. The outbuildings were clustered close enough that the single rocket sent enough debris flying to take out the shed and its inhabitant.
Three down.
Samuels joined her, his face a study in contained rage.
He hissed, “Take out the house. Now.”
“Sir, are you sure? The asset…”
“Is gone. Do it, woman. Then gather your men and fall back. Do NOT go on the road, do you understand?”
“Shit.”
“Go into the swamp. Stay under cover. We’ll meet you when we finish this.”
The Captain nodded and crab-walked to where her man was re-loading the launcher, leaving Samuels seething.
Rinj, are you airborn?
Flying five-by-five…
What do you see?
Like Mags thought, they’ve got a big-ass boat and they’re locked and loaded.
Is she close?
Don’t worry about Magda, Samuels. She’ll do what she has to. We’ve got other problems.
I’m looking at them, Rinj.
No, you’re not.
Wha—
Rinj chuckled, the sound grating. Later, man. We’ve got us some runners.
Samuels muttered, “I’ll send the team,” but Rinj was already smoke. He ordered his men to assist the ninja master, making best time through the swamp. Regretfully, like him, his people lacked the ability to go airborne but the hit squad more than made up for it with speed and determination.
Reese shot him an evil look as she shepherded her people into the fringes of the swamp. It would take more than dinner and roses to win her back. He’d decide later if it was worth the price she’d exact.
Magda directed Smithy to stand watch. There was no way of knowing how far flying debris would go and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with incoming fiery missiles. The weak current moved them marginally toward the intersection with the spur canal.
With the pyrotechnics lighting the sky she’d have no trouble making a boat coming out of the side channel. They’d need to be at idling speed to make the narrow turn, then all hell would break loose.
Smithy asked, “What’s our top speed, Ma’am?” It looked like he already knew the answer but was just testing her.
“I dunno, forty maybe. Why?”
The vamp cupped his ear, listening hard.
“Smithy?”
“Fuck it. They’ve got a jet boat.”
“So?” She knew what they were but beyond that she hadn’t a clue why that made a difference. A boat was a boat. She had a couple of big engines. So did they. Big whoop.
Smithy moved closer and asked, “Y’all done this before?”
Yes and no. Certainly not in such a confined space. And not when the stakes were so high. She raised an eyebrow as the decibel level of the approaching craft ramped up to deafening.
“I didn’t think so. Ma’am, better let me…” he paused and pointed, “…here they come.”
“Take it.” Magda stepped back, allowing Smithy to assume her place at the helm. One look at the sleek high performance craft slip-sliding around the ninety degree turn and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt they were out-classed.
Smithy muttered, “Sea-Doo,” as he opened the throttle, the twin Mercury outboards struggling to move the Vee-shaped bow through the inky water.
The jet boat hull skipped over the calm canal surface like a flat stone, accelerating from nothing to gone in a flash while they floundered to make headway.
“Ain’t all bad, missy.”
Magda stared at Smithy, seriously pissed. Nobody but nobody called her ‘missy’, ever. And why hadn’t the bright light who’d stolen this piece-o-shit floating barge found something that could actually move like it wasn’t in a no-wake zone?
Even with their enhanced vision, there wasn’t a lot to see. The bonfire on the rise that used to be Trinity’s hidey-hole faded behind them while the lights from the city to the northwest bounced off a lowering and thickening cloud deck. It smelled and tasted like rain.
Curious, Magda finally asked, “Why’s it not bad?”
“They’ve got acceleration that we don’t and they’ll hit top speed over fifty if those engines are what I think they are.”
She interrupted before he could deliver the good news with a “Shit.”
“Yes’m, but that don’t come without a price.” The man looked smug as the hull finally responded, skimming the surface and accelerating rapidly.
“Price? I don’t understand.”
She wasn’t in the mood for Nautical Fun 101 but there wasn’t much to see or do until they actually came within range of the craft. Their target’s running lights bobbed and wove ahead of them but the distance appeared to stay relatively fixed, neither pulling away or shortening. Not that they needed a fixed point of ref
erence with their engines screeching like banshees. They’d be waking everybody on the whole damn peninsula at that rate.
Smithy was mouthing something but she hadn’t been paying attention so she said, “Huh?” and let him start over.
“Performance, love. They’re a bitch to handle unless ya know what you’re doing. What’re the odds these boys do?”
Magda grinned. Smithy was going to be her new BFF.
When she didn’t answer, Smithy asked, “Uh, do ya know if it’s a straight shot?”
He meant did the canal bend and twist any. It did. He looked at her expectantly.
“No, it isn’t. There’s a serious dogleg, left, forty-five degree angle, about a mile and a half from the feeder canal. Then I’m guessing there’s gonna be docks as we get closer to the highway. We’ll be dodging shit once we make the turn but it’s…”
“It’s what?”
“Crap, there’s a bridge, maybe a mile or so past the turn. It runs into a feeder road like the one back there, “she waved a hand behind her, “and it parallels the canal all the way to the four lane.”
“So they don’t have to get all the way to the car rental place, is that right?”
“Damn it, it looks that way.” She was furious with herself. Why hadn’t she seen all those possibilities earlier, not that it would have made much difference. It’d gone way past coulda, woulda, shoulda. She’d have to deal with what was handed to her.
“Thing is… they don’t need to offload there, just leave a man. And we’d be…”
“…sitting ducks,” she finished.
Smithy pursed his lips and concentrated on steering. The canal was wide enough for two boats to pass comfortably but that didn’t leave room for mistakes. She looked back at the rooster tail shimmering silver grey and silently prayed.
Hang on, Damien. I’m coming.
She couldn’t hear him or feel him, hadn’t been able to since this all started. Her chest, her skull vibrated in the roar of the engines, blanking out thought.
Dropping to all fours she fumbled with the latch on the metal rectangular box partially shoved under the bench seat. Removing the RPG-22, she hefted it to her shoulder, getting a feel for the weight and balance. It was single use so she’d have only seconds to determine the correct target.