Limere gasped before he disappeared, but she’d detected the same discrepancy he had; the vial’s liquid looked strange, a different poison than planned.
Shit, someone switched my ammo on the vial gun! I needed the agent alive!
The agent stumbled before dropping to the ground, yelling curses when he struck the blacktop.
Figures… right after we get new neighbors in the development, I’m running like a criminal. Without knowing how they’ll react, I can’t risk people witnessing a murder. The new neighbors will learn about us sometime.
Regret shined in Aviere's eyes, but the spilt second reaction strengthened her resolve as his swearing continued.
Damn, I was hoping to bring this guy in alive, but I can't change things now.
Aviere grabbed her keys from her pocket and hurried to her Ferrari, locking the door as she started the vehicle. She flung her gun on the passenger’s seat and grasped the steering wheel. The purring engine soothed her hammering heartbeat until tan fingers reached up, clutching the door and the jagged remnants of the window glass.
Christ, how—stop wondering and move, Vi!
Scarlet coated the broken glass, but the agent tried reaching inside again, using his sleeve for protection. Aviere shoved her elbow against his injured fingers, and was rewarded with another series of expletives before hearing a small click. She spotted a handgun in the cracked driver’s side mirror, aiming for her head.
A cleaner disguised as a fed. I’m glad I shot him with something else. Not sure if I could pay him off, after all.
Aviere wasted no time stomping on the accelerator, manipulating the stick shift to first, then second gear. The bullets missed her car, and her adrenaline peaked as she rushed down the tunnel. Warmth flooded her body, and she soothed her racing thoughts, trying to appreciate the high speeds the Ferrari reached.
Despite enjoying the refreshing air from her broken window, Aviere kept checking her rearview mirror as she brushed loose hair back from her face. Relieved the mage hadn’t pursued her down the tunnel, she jacked up her radio and rock music blasted her ears.
She bellowed out lyrics to a favorite song, using it as pleasant diversion to develop a plan before she arrived at her destination.
After cruising through Baltimore’s underground tunnels for fifteen minutes, Aviere shut off her radio and switched to her CB, radar detector, and specialized GPS. With one hand resting on top of the steering wheel, Aviere nimbly maneuvered between each device, smirking when she emerged into the bright nightlife Baltimore City offered.
The cold gust from the window blew smoggy air into her face and she grunted, wrinkling her nose at the putrid stench. After a moment, speed calmed her jittery nerves and a serene look crossed her face for a fleeing moment.
Another whiff of harsh air overshadowed Aviere’s zen. Once smog, rotting trash, and body odor hit her nostrils, the Poisoner let out a disappointed sigh.
I might as well practice, considering I’m racing in two days. Besides, I might discover something about the rogue mage, if I’m lucky.
The GPS beeped when it calibrated to her coordinates, alerting Aviere of a ten-minute gap between her destinations. Flashing police lights and sirens behind her brought back the adrenaline spikes and giddy laughter as her cerulean eyes warmed.
Perfect. Ten minutes on the highway should blow off steam.
Aviere surveyed the interstate, noting the few civilian cars and exits near her destination. Brunette strands blew in her face from the shattered window, but Aviere used her rearview mirrors, changing gears to increase her speed.
The boisterous, booming microphone amplifying the cop’s orders to stop fueled Aviere’s excitement. Then she laughed when the cop repeated his orders.
Christ, I feel like I’m watching Ma in sanctioned racing again. I wish I had a crowd cheering for me. It’d make things perfect out here.
She reviewed the distance between a bright yellow Honda Civic and a forest-green Jeep Cherokee blocking her path in two lanes. When the cop blared on the microphone again, Aviere narrowed her eyes before sliding between them. The pothole in the middle nearly threw off her perfect timing, but she managed through with tight, disciplined movements on the steering wheel and accelerator.
Aviere giggled in delight when the driver in the Civic waved a single finger out his driver’s side window.
“Stupid, crazy bitch! Watch what the fuck you’re doing!”
She slammed the accelerator, watching the speedometer climb from 90 to 105 miles per hour. Between the humid breeze and her enhanced senses from the adrenaline rush, Aviere’s grin widened. She waved a hand out the window before gunshots forced her to concentrate.
Despite the minor obstacle, she straightened in her seat. The white and green highway sign boasted an exit to interstate 295. Aviere turned hard to the right, zigzagging through scattered cars to reach her destination.
She gasped when she saw a patrol car speed up the exit ramp toward her, and changed gears, squinting as she used her rear mirrors to drive in reverse.
Christ, if I get out of this, I’m going on a freaking crash course. I shouldn’t have grown careless…
She maneuvered out of the car’s reach and continued down the shoulder, praying no one struck her rear end. Body trembling and her breathing shallow, Aviere forced herself to speed faster to keep the patrol car from ramming her bumper and hood. Grasping the steering wheel, Aviere switched gears and rushed past the patrol car, angling back to the exit ramp the moment she passed them.
Goddammit Jet, move!!
A thundering crash signaled the patrol car’s demise. In her mirrors, Aviere watched the other officers that were chasing her barricade the scene, stopping nearby vehicles to begin their rescue mission.
Good. Excellent. Now to get some place safe.
Quickly, Aviere sped down the ramp, narrowly missing the secret entrance to another tunnel. The Ferrari’s tires burned while she drifted in the entrance and she recoiled when shrubbery brushed against her windshield.
Oh god—I hope it doesn’t scrape up Jet’s windshield…
Aviere cursed at the cold air again before picking up a potent aroma of stinging aftershave. A heavy thud against the roof of the Ferrari caused her to cower before slamming on her brakes.
How is the mage still alive?! Shit, shit, shit!
Pain throbbed in her neck from the abrupt stop. She swore her jugular vein pumped harder than normal, even more so than her normal high-speed races. Aviere remembered to draw deep breaths and willed her eyes to sustain normal sight. The car dipped backward and her stomach heaved from the swift movement.
The hairs on her arms and neck rose as she detected a glimmer of a tan trench coat as he disappeared.
That agent shouldn’t be able to cast! The hell with it—I want him for myself if we survive.
Aviere gritted her teeth and drove to an adjacent parking garage., timing the agent’s impending death. Muscles rippled, battling against fight or flight. She locked her jaw as she maneuvered Jet into a parking spot and powered the vehicle down. Absently, she rubbed the plastic paneling on the side of her door to quell her racing thoughts.
Hide the vial gun in the glove box. It’s locked. The blowgun’s in your pocket. Don’t worry, Vi, you have this.
Trembling hands thrust the sleek gun inside after removing the scope. She had barely locked the glove box before cramming the scope in her handbag.
Movement flickered from her side mirrors as she shouldered her purse. Aviere seized the red leather-encased pepper spray from the middle console before slipping out of her vehicle. She checked it with a spray before locking the door behind her.
Then she berated herself mentally about the futile attempt at security, since her window remained shattered.
Breezy cold air and the scent of pungent alcohol made her gag, distracting her long enough for the mage to snake an arm around her throat.
She tried using her free hand to spray her aggressor, blinding herself in her p
anicked state. The coughing added to Aviere’s stress as she turned red, struggling to breathe in the sleeper hold. Clammy hands dropped the pepper spray, and Aviere tried pulling his arm away against her tinted tunnel vision.
“I don’t want to assassinate you, Mye,” the rogue mage declared in a heavy, matter-of-fact tone. “Just come with me like a good—”
Aviere scraped her nails against him, wide eyed when her claws wouldn’t protrude from her gloves. Then she tried smashing the heel of her boot against his, only managing a soft blow.
Why doesn’t he want to—argh!!
The mage strengthened his chokehold and Aviere croaked, fighting black spots in her fuzzy vision. She fought against heavy, oxygen-deprived limbs to lash out one more time, overlooking the tunnel vision and burning lungs, desperate for air.
“Goddammit, you’re a hellcat, Mye,” the mage continued in awe. “The boss was right about you.”
Before she challenged the mage for clarification, Aviere’s body jerked and her eyes rolled in her head as her body slumped forward. The last thing she remembered consisted of falling, but never reaching solid ground.
Chapter Two
Keith Travis ignored his quivering, clammy body, hoping to scuffle into the observation room before the redheaded nurse dragged him back to the medical bay. He wiped beading moisture from his forehead, rolling his eyes when the nurse ordered him to stop once more.
Sweat soaked his stringy, dirty-blond bangs, but his pulse jumped at the notion of querying the capodecina he’d spent weeks trailing for Shawn Peters. The agent cleared his throat when he faced his skinny, clean-cut partner, stopping when Peters lowered his Ray Ban sunglasses and scrutinized him.
A few seconds later, Travis felt a steady grip on his shoulder and a needle jammed into his neck. He almost disrupted the nurse until Peters sneered and waggled his finger. Travis fought a cold chill when he leaned against the wall, but followed Louise’s lead when she compelled him to sit on the metal bench in the pallid corridor.
It figures, Lyssa. I finally get close to apprehending the Poisoner, and she poisons me with one blow. Mye’s reputation is well deserved.
The antidote worked its way into his bloodstream, but he blocked Louise’s nagging instructions and peered into Peters’ coffee-colored eyes before he hid them again behind his sunglasses. Travis noticed his partner’s dark brown buzz cut hair and Peters’ index finger moving with percussion across the iPad mini. Familiar surveillance footage from the underground tunnels plagued Travis on the iPad. When Peters muttered under his breath, Travis balled a fist, letting out a tense breath.
I bet Peters will bitch about using magic to get Mye. But I didn’t have a choice when she sped away in the Ferrari. If I hadn’t, we would’ve lost our prime suspect.
“Jesus, Travis!” Peters cried, almost flinging the iPad mini down the corridor. “I can’t doctor surveillance footage when you’re using bloody—”
“Mye reacted before I did!” Travis protested, waving Louise away when she shined a light in his eyes. “Jesus, woman, I said I was fine!”
Travis squeezed his eyes shut, but rough fingers pried them open.
“Keith, quit fighting me,” Louise demanded. “You would’ve been done a half hour ago, but I had to chase you through the goddamn building.”
Travis huffed and rolled his eyes to avoid the harsh light. “Anyhow, Peters… Mye ambushed me after I broke into the Ferrari. I didn’t sense her until after the damn car alarm went off.”
Peters’ sunglasses lowered further and Travis waited for steam to emerge from his partner’s ears. “I don’t know why I recommended you to the feds if you’re still investigating like a homicide detective.”
“Peters, I’ve only been here a few months,” Travis answered pointedly. “I can’t believe the director gave me a fucking intelligence specialist to teach me field work. Unbelievable.”
Travis snorted in disgust and headed further down the hallway toward the observation room. He clutched his wrinkled blood red tie and tightened it before stopping at a one-way mirror. Scuffled footsteps from behind made Travis shiver as the sound grated his ears.
When Travis spun around, the agent rolled hazel eyes and thrust an arm toward the specialist clutching the tablet to his chest. “Is the iPad necessary, Peters?”
“Someone has to record information,” Peters snapped, cursing when the screen lit. “Transcribing—”
“I don’t have time to type when I'm interrogating, Peters. No one does.”
“I’m reviewing the toxicology results from the medical testing,” Peters snapped. “The hemlock was potent. Mye almost killed you. Seriously, we thought—”
“Mye’s been doing her job a long time, Peters. She’s a jack of all trades, but she was the Underboss for the don of Central Baltimore before he died.” Travis scrutinized his partner while he flexed his left hand. “My sources told me she ran high-profile operations for the don and Edith Eisen.”
“I read the—”
“Peters, you won’t find a lot about Mye on a fucking dossier.” Travis tilted his head as he looked through the one-way mirror to see Aviere investigating the open file on the table. “You left the file there?”
“She wasn’t talking, so I figured she’d look after I left.”
The trench-coated agent reached for his holster and growled when he remembered Louise had confiscated his gun in the medical unit. “You compromised valuable information!”
“How else can I gauge what she lied about?” Peters argued, flapping his arm back and forth energetically. “Jesus, it’s not like she can go anywhere! We’re right here! The glass is bulletproof, you know!”
“You tell me not to use magic, yet you do stupid shit like this,” Travis said, grumbling under his breath. “I’m demanding the director reassign me with an actual field agent, not an intelligence grunt.”
“No one else will work with you, Travis.”
Travis released an apprehensive breath and remembered that Peters didn’t choose to be assigned to the Underground Massacre case. Instead, he shifted his focus to Aviere Mye and silently counted to ten before he continued.
“Peters, the reason you won’t find anything on Mye is because someone encrypted all her information in every database we’ve reviewed. I found most of my information from her subordinates we’ve apprehended over the years.”
“I see.”
“Some revealed interesting clues about the Poisoner, but never about her business or her trusted colleagues.”
Travis made a thoughtful noise as he watched Aviere through the glass. Cold cerulean eyes seemed to lock with his as he profiled her, trying to understand her peculiar fashion sense; elbow-length leather gloves and tiny, silver-rimmed spectacles. He furrowed his eyebrows, blinking when Aviere’s eyes remained glued on him.
They’re not supposed to see us, Travis mused, waving with a hand. But the room is made for humans, isn't it? Shifters could technically still see us, provided the lighting’s right.
Travis’ lips tightened in a thin line when Aviere smirked and waved, crinkling papers in her gloved hand. Her movements slowed as she set the papers inside, dropped the file and fidgeted with her hands.
I don’t get why Sanderson wants Mye to work for the Renegades. The woman sticks out like a sore thumb with her ’70s fashion sense. I mean, no one wears dark bellbottoms, a freaking scarf on their waist, or a black fringed tank top so small it emphasizes their breasts. There’s no way she’s Renegade material.
“Yeah, but if Mye wants her freedom, she has to cooperate, Travis. Most of these thugs are the same. They’ll spill just to leave.”
Travis laughed heartily, despite Peters’ gleaming eyes and rapid speech. “You’ve never worked in crime operations, have you?”
“I’m serious!”
Calculating blue eyes fixated on Travis and he didn’t miss Mye’s devious smirk.
She can hear us. Jesus, Mye’s listening and baiting me with her stupid smirk and darkened gla
re
“Peters, Mye was married to the don of Central Baltimore. She became their donna when he died, before eventually being overthrown. Now, she’s working for Eisen as a capodecina. If she was able to secure a cleaner’s job after losing her territory, her resolve’s tougher than pecker lips.”
A wave of vertigo and a churning stomach suddenly hit Travis as he stood in the observation room. Travis gulped and slammed his eyes shut, holding a hand against the wall to keep himself upright. He chewed inside his cheek and blinked a few times to steady himself, wiping sweat from his neck.
“I don’t know why you came back when I can handle this, Travis. Go home and get some rest. God knows you’ve done enough.”
Travis shook his head, noticing the handcuff on her left wrist attached to a metal table leg. “Why is she restrained, Peters?”
“We got into a scuffle.” Peters retrieved a silver blowgun, camouflaged as a fat pen. “Bitch tried stabbing me with it and thought it would be adorable nicknaming me Agent Neuro. She asked about you, though. Don’t know why, considering—”
“I mentioned a mage lurked around Eisen’s place when we processed the homicide,” Travis responded, relieved when the room stopped reeling. “I chased him out, remember?”
“Mye can’t have a mage.”
Travis snickered. “Mye’s associates are unique. I wouldn’t be surprised if one works for her. I’m not the only mage working rogue, outside of Sect jurisdiction, you know.” He grasped Peters’ shoulder. “Let me handle it, Peters. We have to treat this delicately, considering more than one organization’s after Aviere Mye.”
“Stop reminding me, Travis.”
“Peters—”
“No one is taking the case we’ve worked on for the last two months,” Peters vowed, locking his legs in place. Coffee-colored eyes sparkled, and he pursed his lips in a flat line. “I don’t like the director, but this Sanderson guy makes my skin crawl. He can hire another information specialist for this joint investigation.”
Turbulence: Book One in The Renegades Saga Page 2