“We’ll see. I’ll be back one way or the other.” Her soulful eyes followed him to the door.
As the door closed behind Dorran, Pilot grimaced. “He packs a punch. I know that. Meagan, can I get some ice in a dish towel, please?”
Meagan turned her attention to her shadow walker/body guard. “Hit your shadow walker skull on the floor?”
“Just a lump on the head is all.” Pilot scooped up the ice filled towel and applied it gingerly to his injury. “That’s better,” he sighed heavily.
Returning to the coffee, Meagan considered Dorran. He was tall, over six-two with massive shoulders and arms ripped with muscles. The bicolored eyes proved spooky at first. “Do you know anything about Dorran?”
“Ah, not really. Dorran’s a friend of J.T.’s. He hasn’t been here that long. I think he was in the same unit as J.T., Duke, and Logan. In perfect Shadow Company form, they haven’t mentioned much. Seems he mysteriously appeared back around the time we had the face-off with the Sultan. He was instrumental in getting the Sultan jailed. The court system isn’t what it used to be. The Sultan was released after a few months.”
“Yes, I heard he got out.” Meagan glanced at Pilot nursing his bump. She stepped closer, parting his gray hair. “I’m confused. How does a shadow walker get a concussion?”
Pilot’s eyebrows winged up. He sniffed in derision. “Like anyone else, I suppose. Besides, I’ve been practicing my materialization recently. My continuance is quite solid now.”
“Huh.” Ignoring her friend’s offended senses, Meagan shook her head. “I’m going to get some clothes on. Doesn’t look like I’m getting anymore sleep.” She padded past him toward the bedroom.
Pilot sniffed audibly, “I’ll go help this bounty hunter if indeed that is his occupation. What a name. Dorran O’Hare. Too Irish for my tastes.” He sniffed again.
Turning, Meagan raised her eyebrows at his doubtful comments.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“I didn’t look at you any way.” As Pilot bundled up in an ancient coat, she continued, “What makes you think he isn’t telling the truth?”
Pilot turned as he adjusted the coat’s collar closer around his boney neck. “It’s something. I can’t put my finger on the reason yet.” Jerking his head toward the door, he added, “That’s why I’m going out to help the young gentleman.” With a conspiratorial wink, he slipped through the closed door and disappeared into the early morning fog.
Meagan came away from the window once more to consider the intruder. “Dorran O’Hare.” She snorted. “Pilot was right. That is a contrived name if ever I heard one. Too Irish to be genuine.” Skirting the kitchen table, she headed for the bedroom and clothes.
Chapter 5
Dorran examined the ground along the Latimars’ wood line. Nothing. “Damn it,” he growled under his breath. “There should be a scent or something here,” he mused aloud. “No such luck.” The early morning mist hanging about reminded him of a different place and time. His mind’s eye shot his memory full of bits and pieces, images without faces and gunfire. So much fucking gunfire. The flashes of light and barking of orders filled his gray matter. “Fuck.” Shaking his head, he tried hard to dislodge the reoccurring recollection. “I won’t go there,” he voiced to his overactive brain. A twig snapped behind him. Dorran whirled.
Pilot stopped immediately. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” His shoulders shrugged under the weight of the woolen coat from another century. “Are you all right, Mr. O’Hare?”
Dorran eyed him cautiously. “That’s twice. Granted, I deserved the first one. But do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?”
“Do you make a habit of intruding on women alone in their homes?” came Pilot’s reprisal. He narrowed his eyes a Dorran. “Don’t think you’ve proven who you are to any of our satisfactions. The fact you are searching for our most despised enemy gives you the privilege of searching the area. Nothing more.” With the last words, Pilot’s chin lifted slightly past level. Disdain coated his ghostly features.
“She wasn’t alone. She had a body guard.” He rubbed at a lump on his head. The shadow walker had brains, if not common sense. Dorran’s laugh came out throaty with his frustration. “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing here.” He stalked past Pilot without another word. Glancing up at the house sitting on the hill, he caught a glimpse of her in the window. Certain he would be accused of voyeurism, he fought the urge to look away. Her slim lines and pert breasts held him captive. So he was a pervert for enjoying the view. His dick twitched. Dropping his eyes, he trudged forward in agitated irritation.
“If I may,” Pilot called from behind him.
Dorran stilled. Turning, he waited.
Pilot pointed to a spot not far from where Dorran had given up the search. “Is this of any consequence to you?”
Something about this guy set his nerves on edge, Dorran decided. Still, he retraced his steps with renewed curiosity. There in the soft dirt was a set of distinguishable footprints and lying beside them in a small clump of weeds was a cigarette butt. Realizing experienced shadow walkers developed weight and made impressions, he bent over, retrieving the butt in his gloved hands. A small plastic pouch he pulled from his leather coat pocket now housed the butt. Glancing up at Pilot, he attempted a friendly demeanor. Since Pilot had already made it perfectly clear he was unwelcomed except for their mutual hatred for the Sultan, he nodded in gratitude. “Thanks.”
Pilot’s brow winged up. “Don’t mention it.” He dusted an invisible speck of dirt from his ancient coat and offered, “I do hope it helps. You’ll run DNA of course?”
“Of course.” Dorran nodded slowly as he eyed Pilot. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
Pilot’s chin lifted once more. “If you must.”
“How do you come by being friends with a human?” Dorran shook his head slightly. “I mean, you’re a shadow walker. So are you a bodyguard or something?”
“I find your questions to be too personal, however, if you must know, I am friends with Meagan and assigned the duties of watching out for her in the owners’ absence. Now, in the same regard, I would appreciate a meeting with you to discover more of your background and credentials. Shall we say, nine later this morning?”
Dorran could not steam the smile that crept up slowly. “Nine sounds fine. I rent a small space in J.T. Leighton Investigation down on Main street, Cheniere Station. It’s a convenient position while I’m here in town since I have a job to do.”
“Indeed.” Pilot examined him more closely. “Have you known J.T. long?”
Dorran sighed heavily. “Long enough.”
Pilot waved away his next thought. “To be sure, I will see you then at nine, Mr. O’Hare.” With that, the shadow walker breezed past him dismissing him effectively and headed for the house on the hill.
Dorran shook his head. “A queer fellow to be sure,” he said to himself, mimicking the shadow walker’s accent. What’s with the Victorian English conversation?” No one answered, and Dorran shook his head. He re-examined the need to talk to himself and snorted out a laugh. “Got to start hanging out with living people more, old man.”
***
Dorran’s guilt ran thick in his gut. He needed to apologize for his own conscious. Meagan may not accept the apology, but it would be there. He climbed the front porch steps like a human and stopped in front of the door to the quaint little abode. The fact he had wedged it open earlier came back to him in vivid detail. Why he wasn’t sure. This time he knocked.
“Come in,” Meagan called from the heart of the kitchen.
He heard dishes clattering and hoped she wasn’t going to too much trouble. After all, he’d been an uninvited alarm clock. Easing inside, he noted she had turned on the lights and stood near the sink. The overhead florescent brightened the area as well as lending detail to her slender figure standing at the sink, rinsing out cups.
“I hope you didn’t go to any bother.” Her lithe li
nes displayed effortlessly in a snug fitting t-shirt, and cut-off jean shorts made his body react despite his mind’s rejection of anything physically attractive before him. “I should be making you coffee.”
She lifted her head to meet his gaze. She laughed, breathy and light. “No, I always fix coffee first thing in the morning. Gets me revved for the day.” The curve of a smile lit her features.
Dorran sucked in air as the image of her standing there sucker punched him in the gut. The need was real and raw. This woman stirred him so completely it was hard to breathe. But the idea was futile. He was a hybrid, nothing could come of a relationship with a human. Plus, he had a past, a mission, and no future. Shoving at the notion made his chest tighten. Recon for the damn shadow walker’s council had to be completed. He blanked his mind of thoughts of her lying beneath him in some overgrown field with the shadows of a full moon dancing over their naked bodies. Sit down you fool.
“How do you like your coffee?” Meagan asked as she held up the carafe.
“Black is fine.” Dorran eased onto the nearest bar stool and leaned in on his elbows as his cock hardened behind his fatigues. Easy boy.
“I take cream in mine when I can get it. Most of the time, I use half and half. It’s easier to get around here. The one grocer in town doesn’t carry everything. You request something, and he’ll order it for you. Then, maybe, he’ll start stocking the item regularly.
There was pleasure in listening to her carry on about her rituals, likes, and dislikes. Dorran could listen for days without stopping. The sexual tension eased, and he was grateful. “Good to know. I haven’t been but once or twice. Just for a couple of things.” Dorran didn’t want to tell her he’d bought hamburger meat on a couple of occasions when the hunger was too much to handle. He remembered throwing it on the grill but only for a minute. Rare was his favorite way to consume meat. It hadn’t always been like that. Before becoming a hybrid, Dorran enjoyed a wide range of foods. At one time, he had considered becoming a chef, or a cook at least. Now, the job of bounty hunter suited him. No one questioned a stakeout at night.
Setting his cup in front of him, she slid onto the other stool and sighed. “This is my favorite way to wake up.”
Dorran blinked. “With a break-in?”
She giggled. Coffee seeped from her mouth, and she wiped it away with the back of her sleeve. “No, silly, with freshly brewed coffee.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” Marking off contrition as a trait he would have to work on, Dorran took a sip of his own. She seemed comfortable with his blunder now. “That’s good.” The smile came automatically. “You grind your own beans or something?”
Meagan nodded. “Yeah. I keep a small batch stashed away for special mornings.
His attention heightened at the words. This morning is special, all right? Giving a good nod of his head, he re-examined the short conversation. Nothing brought out special to him except the fact he was present.
“Well, I have to admit, your little entrance rattled me some. I’ll be all better, and everything will go back to normal with a good dose of caffeine. Don’t you agree?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Dorran wondered at the summation – was she telling the truth or being southernly polite? She evaded any reason for her reference to a special morning – coffee fixed everything, he supposed. Was everything that simple? Could it be?
“Did you find anything? I figure you didn’t find the Sultan or he’d be chained up out front right now. Pilot would be gathering wood for the ritualistic burning of him at the stake.” She tilted her head toward the front yard with a wry smile creasing those magnificent lips. “He’s a tricky bastard, the Sultan.”
Dorran noted the image her words invoked. Seamlessly she shifted from sarcasm to raw truth in the span of a breath. Most girls her age were concerned with the latest styles and boys. Her attitude intrigued him. Meagan had been through a lot. That much he knew from what J.T. Leighton, his landlord, and fellow SEAL team bud had told him. Yet, Dorran sensed her ageless nature in her edgy remarks. For a young woman, she had sass and guts, a combination he admired. “I found, well, Pilot found a cigarette butt in the weeds. Footprints nearby indicate someone was standing and watching the house.
This time, her brow furrowed. “You mean the Sultan was watching the house?”
“Yeah, probably.” Dorran downed the last of his cup. “I’m going back to the lab and get this analyzed first thing. He waved a clear plastic bag containing the one piece of evidence he had managed to retrieve.
“What DNA from a cigarette butt? That could be tricky.” Meagan’s concern shown in her strained features. “What are the charges against him?”
“Human trafficking. Dorran tossed out several surveillance pics of women and men being beaten and shipped in cargo containers. “These are some of the more recent unfortunate victims.
Meagan winced at the sight of such abuse and torture. She shook her head. “Isn’t there a way to finally put this guy away?”
Dorran watched her expression of concern. There was genuine empathy for those involved. Unsure if he could understand the level of compassion he witnessed in her eyes, he eased back, like he always did. Emotional detachment went along with a SEAL’s code, and since becoming a creature of the night, Dorran found the skill useful again. “Thanks for the joe. I’ll let you know what I find out. In the meantime, keep your eyes open for anything suspicious.”
Her hand went up in a mocked salute. “Roger that, sir.” The impish grin she gave him spilled into a laugh as natural as air.
He shook his head because his throat was clenching at the picture she made sitting there, a stunning image of legs propped on the stool next to hers and sexy as hell with the morning sun filtering in from the kitchen window. Cloaked against the sun’s rays, Dorran used his supersonic speed, another of the vampire traits he possessed to leave her behind in the blink of an eye.
Chapter 6
“It’s about time you got back.” J.T. Leighton reclined in the leather chair behind his desk. “The council has already contacted me this morning. Bastards don’t own a clock. What did you find?”
Dorran crossed the wood plank floor of J.T. Leighton Investigations and dropped into the nearest office chair across from its proprietor. J.T.’s reference to the Shadow Walkers governing body did little to enhance his mood. Avoiding them had been a thing for him lately. He was tired. That was the truth. His system was stirred by Meagan though, and that would have to be reviewed. Examining his friend, he grunted in the way of a greeting. J.T. still wore his street clothes from the night’s patrols. A few vampires met their demise at J.T.’s hands – Dorran was certain of that fact. J.T.’s skill as a vampire hunter was gaining notoriety in the underworld of demons and boogie men. Humans believed him to be simply a private investigator who worked on several levels.
“I ran into a couple of complications.” He shoved out of his boots, leaving them where they lay.
J.T.’s dark brow winged up at the notion of trouble. “What did you do now?”
In all the time Dorran had known J.T., his friend the former SEAL and current vampire/private investigator, he never heard him offer up optimism when confronted with complications – more accurately complications involving Dorran. “You’re right, bro. I did it. I went out to the Latimars like you asked me to do. The Sultan’s signal was strongest there. There didn’t appear to be anyone home, so I went in.”
“You went in? How?”
“Through the front door. Have you forgotten I have a few skills in breaking and entering?” Waiting a beat as J.T. huffed out a breath, Dorran took a long drag on the cig, sucking in the smoke like a hungry man scents baking bread. “I woke the occupants.” Dorran dropped the cigarette butt on the desk and shrugged out of his coat, dropping it on a nearby wing-backed leather chair.
J.T. glanced from the cigarette to the coat but said nothing.
“The girl named Meagan was house sitting. Her bodyguard, a shadow walker, named Pilot came after me.”
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J.T.’s smile grew into a laugh from deep inside. “Sorry, that one’s on me. I forgot Meagan was house sitting until Logan and Aubrie get back. You okay?”
“Yeah, I managed. Still, you could have warned me. I don’t like scaring people half to death.”
“Apologies dude.” J.T. shook his head. “Where’s your bike?”
“I ran into some trouble this afternoon at the shelter. The Sultan was there, I could smell him, but I ran into the dog catcher instead.”
“Hell, Dorran. Do you need a keeper?”
“Just listen, all right?” Dorran’s neck tightened with a headache. The truth was trouble followed him, and he knew it. There was no getting away from the fact he was struggling with being what he had become. “I went out there as a wolf, and in the watch, I missed a beat. The dog catcher snared me before I could escape.
“Geez, bro. Can’t you focus long enough to secure your surroundings? That bomb jarred your brains loose.”
Glaring at the vampire seated across from him, Dorran snarled. “You’re one to talk. Walked right into that vampire’s trap, didn’t you?”
J.T. held up his hands. “All right. This isn’t a pissing contest. Tell me what happened.”
“I managed to escape. Well, Meagan took a stance between the dog catcher and me. She accidentally fell on the capture pole, breaking the tension. I slipped free and ran.” One look at the scowl on J.T.’s face made him add, “Don’t worry, no one followed me. I was careful.”
“Right.”
Dorran ignored the niggling tension gripping his shoulders. The time had come to change the subject. “It does appear someone visited the property recently. I wish I’d found more, but I’ll try getting DNA off the butt. There were a good set of shoe prints and the scent of cigarette smoke in the low hanging fog. Since the Sultan’s a phantom without weight, I assume he had an accomplice. Though, Meagan said she saw only one figure in the dusk darkness earlier.” Dorran smoothly shifted the conversation topic. “What can you tell me about Meagan?”
Blood Born Page 4