“Son of a bitch,” Scott hissed, and then he turned to her, grabbing her biceps and shaking her in frustration. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What did you fucking do?”
“His first line of defense,” Riley said, not answering Scott’s questions. “His secretary. She might look like an airheaded, helpless idiot, but she used to be a field agent. She caught me in his office and tried to kill me. I didn’t have a good reason for being there.”
“Never mind that,” Zachariah said, pushing past Scott. Blood stained the front of his shirt and jacket, oozing out of the bullet wounds that the secretary had put there. Riley wanted to ask if he was okay, but the look in his eyes told her to not bother. “What did you find out?”
“It isn’t so much what I found out as what I found,” Riley said. She swung her backpack around and unzipped it then, reaching inside and pulling the object she’d stolen from Brandon’s desk out for the two men to see. “The box,” she said triumphantly as she held it up. “It was in his desk, in a locked drawer. I thought I’d find information. I didn’t know I’d find the box. So I took it.”
“Good job,” Scott said appreciatively. Relief flooded Zachariah’s features, and he took the box from Riley’s hands, turning it over, studying it closely, and smoothing his fingers over it as if it were the finest jewel ever made.
“Thank God, I’m saved,” he whispered, just loud enough for Riley to hear.
“Wait, what?” Riley asked. “What are you talking about? You’re saved?”
“I told you there was more going on than we thought,” Zachariah said. He shoved the box back into Riley’s bag and zipped it closed as she stood there staring at him stupidly. He took the bag from her and put it on his own shoulder, beginning to stride toward the exit with only a momentary last glance at the secretary’s still form.
“What kind of ‘more’ going on?” Scott demanded. He looked as concerned as Riley felt over Zachariah’s utterance, and he grabbed the man by his arm to stop him. Zachariah immediately wrenched his arm free.
“Now isn’t the time,” Zachariah snapped. “We have a dead body up here, and you know that someone had to have heard that gunshot. We have got to get out of here before they come to investigate.”
“If you think that’s going to let you off the hook on an explanation, then you’ve got another thing coming,” Riley said as he led them to the exit.
“I’ll explain in the car,” Zachariah conceded. He bypassed the elevator and shoved the stairwell door open, ushering Scott and Riley through before stepping through it himself. He started down the stairs as he continued. “As of now, a vampire elder is waiting to hear from me, Ashton is probably going crazy by now because he hasn’t heard a word from any of us, and we’ve now gotten official confirmation that Brandon Hall isn’t acting in the best interests of either country or organization.”
A pang of some nameless emotion zipped through Riley’s chest, and she bit down on her bottom lip at Zachariah’s words. She’d gone to Brandon’s office hoping to find evidence contrary to Scott’s suppositions, and the only thing she’d done was confirm everything the man had suggested in the hotel room hours earlier.
Not once in her life had she ever felt like a traitor until the moment when she felt like she’d just handed her former handler and boyfriend over to his executioners on a silver platter.
~*~
Ashton was beginning to tire of eating his dinners out of cans. He frowned at the two cans he held, trying to decide if there was an actual choice between them. Then he scowled in disgust and dropped both cans into the trash. The thought of going out to eat—of having a hot meal for the first time this week—was tempting.
But Ashton didn’t look forward to the inevitable stares that would come his way if he did so. Zachariah had a knack for deflecting attention from Ashton and his scars so they could do sociable things together when Ashton wasn’t busy and Zachariah wasn’t on an assignment. But Zachariah wasn’t there. So Ashton was going to have to fend for himself.
Ashton shrugged and gave up on dinner. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone without. Besides, he had enough work to do as it was, considering the dozen books scattered on his bed. He’d been at it all day, and his notepad was still blank. He hadn’t found a thing. By all appearances, there wasn’t a solution to Zachariah’s problem. But Ashton refused to accept that answer.
He pulled himself away from the books and searched for his cigarettes. He needed a smoke badly, judging by the headache beginning to throb at his temples. It had been a long day, and he needed stress relief.
He found his cigarettes and tucked them and his lighter into his pocket. He secured his pistol at his side and stepped out of his bedroom. Within a few seconds, he was out of the office and at the back exit. He was about to swipe his pass card through the reader to unlock the door when he reconsidered and looked behind him, seeking out Angelique for company. He spotted her near the armory cages, chatting with William, one of the armorers. She was flirting with him, and Ashton had to suppress a smile. Though he didn’t want to interrupt her conversation, he knew he shouldn’t go outside by himself, so he cleared his throat and yelled out.
“Angelique! Get over here, would ya?”
Angelique sighed and rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she pushed away from the cage. She said something to William that Ashton couldn’t hear and then headed toward him with a scowl of annoyance on her face. “You got to bust me every time I’m busy, don’t you?” she said once she drew close enough for him to hear.
“Sorry,” Ashton said with a smile. He patted her lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll let you finish your conversation in a bit. I just wanted you to stand outside with me while I smoke. Considering everything that’s going on, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go outside on my own right now.”
“You’re probably right,” Angelique acknowledged, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m annoyed you dragged me away from William.”
Ashton swiped his card through the exit’s card reader and pushed the door open, letting her step out ahead of him as he asked, “So have you two got something going on or what?”
“Working on it,” Angelique said. “If only someone would quit interrupting us.”
Ashton let the door fall closed behind him and pulled his cigarettes free from his pocket. He didn’t feel the tight muscles in his shoulders relax until he had one lit and had taken his first long, deep drag off of it. He closed his eye for a moment as the smoke infiltrated his lungs, and then he looked at Angelique with a shrug. “Sorry? That’s all I can say,” he said. “At least you see William more often than I do Zachariah.”
“That’s why we’re out here, isn’t it?” Angelique said. “You’re hoping you’re going to see him, aren’t you?”
“What do you think?” Ashton muttered, exhaling a cloud of smoke. He didn’t think it was necessary to state his reasons for coming outside, past smoking a cigarette. He didn’t look at her as he added, “I’m just worried about him is all. I’m sure he can handle himself.”
“I’m positive he can,” Angelique said. “The man’s crazy-tough. I bet he’s giving everybody he runs into hell.”
Before Ashton could reply, thunder, low and deep and roiling, made him freeze. The air around the building seemed to shake and shudder. He and Angelique looked to each other, wide-eyed. He grabbed for the holstered pistol at his side, pinned his cigarette between his lips at the corner of his mouth, and limped toward the corner of the building. He knew that sound. It was a sound that, as a field agent, had been hammered into his subconscious mind from years of hands-on experience. It was the distinctive sound of something exploding near the front of the building.
“What the fuck blew up?” Angelique asked as she followed close behind him. He glanced back at her and saw her own pistol in her hand, the expression on her face tense. They circled the corner of the building, and Ashton stopped short as he saw the remains of a car littering the sidewalk and street in front
of the Unnaturals’ headquarters building.
“What the shit?” Ashton said, his cigarette bouncing between his lips as he stopped short to look at the destruction. “It’s a car,” he told Angelique before slipping around the corner and starting to sweep the street, searching for the person who had set the explosion.
“Are we under attack?” Angelique asked, following close behind him.
No sooner had the question left her lips than another explosion rocked the street, the car fifty feet to their right going up in a gout of flame. The concussion from the blast threw Ashton off his feet, slamming him back against the brick of the building and knocking the wind out of him.
Coughing and struggling to breathe, Ashton pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, trying to find his footing as his head spun. A hand grabbed the back of his shirt, and he flailed before he realized it was Angelique, hauling him to his feet. “We’ve got to get you out of here!” she said, her voice high as she yelled to break through the muffled cotton feel of his ears. Her eyes were wide with terror, and she was out of breath. Blood oozed from a gash on the side of her head. “We’re under attack!”
Dazed from the explosion, he let her lead him away from the scene, still trying to catch his breath as she pushed him around the corner of the building. “Why do we need to get me out of here?” he asked once he got enough air into his lungs to speak. “I need to stay and fight.”
“No, we need to get you away from here,” Angelique said. She pushed him toward the corner of the building, and he raised his pistol to sweep it as she continued to goad him backward. “You need to find somewhere to go to ground. We’ve got to protect our leadership.”
Movement near the back of the building caught his attention, and he stopped. Angelique ran into him and nearly toppled him as he squinted into the darkness around them. When the sound of skittering met his ears, he swore and pushed her backward toward the front of the building. “Something’s out here with us,” he told her, trying to get back into the light from the burning cars.
“Vampires?” Angelique asked.
“Probably.”
“Mother fucker,” Angelique snarled. She pressed back more firmly against his back and said, “If anything happens to me, break for the back door. Don’t stop for anything, okay?”
“Angelique,” Ashton started to say.
“Promise me, Ashton!”
“Yeah, okay, fine!” Ashton bit back. His heart thudded wildly in his chest, ricocheting against the inside of his ribcage. It had been so long since he’d been involved in a real fight, and memories from the last time he’d faced down vampires like that flooded his mind. He struggled to banish them, shoving them aside. He could think on it and cope with the post-traumatic shock of it later. Right then, he had to focus on surviving. If he didn’t, then who would search for Zachariah’s cure?
Screams at the front of the building shattered the air before cutting off abruptly. Ashton broke loose from Angelique and ran in that direction, his pistol ready to fire as he circled the building.
The street beyond had become the stuff of nightmares, a ring from Dante’s hell itself. The cars were still burning in pyres of metal and upholstery. Several agents had come out to investigate the explosions, and youngling vampires had swarmed them like a horde of bees, tearing the agents apart. Streaks of blood stained the sidewalk, and viscera littered the concrete.
And standing among the one-sided fight, untouched by the bullets fired at her or the blood staining the concrete, was the vampire elder Zachariah had told him about. She looked like Hell’s avenging angel, dangerously ethereal and beautiful and animalistic all at the same time. Her long blond locks tumbled down around her shoulders and halfway down her back, and her white clothes were spotless as she stood in the glow of the burning cars. She looked at him, and their eyes met. She somehow appeared ancient and all knowing, despite the youthfulness of her porcelain-white features. Her eyes were fathomless black pits, the pupils dilated in the light from the fires. Is this what Zachariah will become? he wondered fleetingly.
The vampire woman raised her hand in a wave.
“Come on!” Angelique’s voice yelled in his ear. A hand pulled at his arm, and he turned to face the woman, feeling dazed again. She pulled his arm once more, and he stumbled forward a step before beginning to move with her, racing for the back of the building.
Two shots rang out, close by. One of them grazed his side, and he stumbled to the left in reflex.
The other slammed into Angelique’s back.
“No!” Ashton shouted as the woman staggered forward and fell to the pavement. She reached behind her and felt at the wound in her back, blood smearing across her hand. Then she looked up at him.
“Get out of here,” she said before she collapsed on the pavement.
Ashton reached for her, but the heated metal of a pistol pressed against the back of his neck. He froze, his back stiffening, and closed his eye.
“Just the man I’m looking for,” a familiar voice said behind him, barely audible over the chaos that was erupting at the front of the building again.
Ashton started to turn, started to speak to the person behind him, but before he could complete the turn, something slammed into the back of his head. He fell, his world spinning and tumbling, the pavement rushing up to meet him, and then everything went black.
Chapter Nineteen
Riley had no idea where Zachariah and Scott had gotten the new vehicle they were in, but she’d been relegated to its backseat and was far from pleased about it. Scott was in the driver’s seat, hunched over the steering wheel, his eyes narrowed as he studied the street ahead of them. The set of his shoulders and the clench of his jaw indicated how stressed he was, something that unnerved Riley considering he was behind the wheel. It wouldn’t take much for him to twitch the wrong way and run the car into a crowd on the sidewalk.
Zachariah sat in the passenger seat, his gloved hand pressed tightly to his stomach. Riley couldn’t see his eyes, blocked as they were by the sunglasses he wore even in the dark. His lips were pressed together, and his skin looked even paler than it had the night before. His front was still covered in blood, but she couldn’t tell if he was still bleeding from the bullet wounds he’d earned in the Agency headquarters. Riley’s black backpack rested on his lap, and he kept his free arm wrapped around it, as if he were trying to guard it from danger. Considering what was inside the backpack, Riley couldn’t blame him for his caution. But damn if she itched to get Linus out of his hands and back safely into hers. She felt naked and exposed without it, not to mention the adrenaline from her fight was wearing off, and she was starting to get hungry. She thought longingly of the food she had stashed inside it and wished she could get at it to get rid of the gnawing hunger.
She squirmed in her seat and shifted her eyes from Zachariah to Scott. The man was easing to a stop at a red light, and his scowl had deepened in the heavy silence. He looked ready to snap. Riley couldn’t blame him. She was already on edge herself.
Scott slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel and twisted around to glare at Zachariah. The vampire in the passenger seat didn’t even look at him. “What the hell is going on, Zachariah?” he demanded. “I feel like I’m stumbling around in the dark with no clue where the hell I’m going. You won’t tell us shit, and I have got to be informed if you expect me to be adequately prepared.”
“It’s complicated,” Zachariah said.
When he didn’t continue, Scott’s eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, meeting Riley’s gaze. Riley let out a scowl of her own and slid behind the vampire, drawing her pistol from its holster and pressing the barrel to the side of Zachariah’s head. Zachariah stiffened in his seat, but he didn’t seem surprised by Riley’s actions.
“We’re sick of being pushed around and kept in the dark,” Riley said. As she spoke, she could feel her own anger and frustration boiling up inside her. She goaded the side of Zachariah’s head with the pistol. “And I’m
sick of being the pawn for a bunch of assholes who don’t give a shit about me except for what I can do for them. It’s over. I’m through. Now give me my fucking bag.”
“What do you need the bag for, Riley?” Zachariah asked.
“Because while I trust you with some things, I don’t fucking trust you with it,” Riley snarled. “You’re supposed to be the enemy, remember? And I don’t think you should have your hands on the one thing that we have access to that can kill you and the other vampires like you.”
“At least you acknowledge that that gun can’t kill me,” Zachariah said, his voice steady. He twisted in his seat faster than Riley could see, and then his hand was around her wrist, clenching, tighter and tighter, twisting until a sharp pain darted through her wrist and up her arm. She grunted and her fingers loosened, her pistol tumbling from her grasp.
Scott leaped to her aid, swinging his fist to strike Zachariah across the face. Zachariah’s grip loosened on Riley’s wrist with the suddenness of Scott’s attack, and Riley fell back in her seat. As she fell, she snagged Linus from Zachariah’s grasp and dragged it back with her. Distracted by the blows Scott was swinging at him, Zachariah was only able to swipe for the bag but missed.
“Scott, let’s go!” Riley yelled. She grabbed her fallen pistol and flung the back passenger door open, throwing herself into the street. Scott slung one more punch at Zachariah and fell out of the car to join her, grabbing her bicep and steering her to the sidewalk crowded with drunken bar-hoppers and partying coeds.
“Stick close to me,” Scott said breathlessly in her ear as he walked them through the crowd in the direction from which they came. “And put that fucking pistol away before someone sees it.”
The Unnaturals (The Unnaturals Series Book 1) Page 29