Vincent slowed to a stop, a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eye as he turned back to Sam. “John isn’t just obsessive about his appearance. He always picks the same numbers.”
Sam frowned. “The same numbers?”
“Yes.” Vincent stepped toward her, his eyes darkening slightly as he backed her up against the wall. There was a slight bang as Sam’s back connected with the wall, and seconds later another bang as Vincent lifted her up. He paused, his lips close to hers as he continued. “He always uses my sister’s birthday. Guaranteed, any place that Prutzmann holes up, any codes that he uses, it’s a combination of those eight numbers.”
The lights suddenly switched off around them, plunging them into a darkness only broken by the red emergency lights above the exit doors. Sam clung to Vincent even as it dawned on her why they had shut off.
Vincent smiled. “Motion sensors. The lights turn off when no movement is detected.” His eyes returned to hers, the mischievous turn of his lips mirroring the glint in his eyes. “So... you think we can do this without setting the lights off?”
“Vincent, we’re supposed to be on a mission here.”
He nodded his head, the smile growing wider. “I know.” He leaned in closer, his lips barely an inch from hers. For a moment, Sam contemplated saying yes... Then the lights came on.
They both tensed, and Sam watched as Vincent quickly scented the air. He growled, then stopped, his frown rapidly fading away into shock. He carefully lowered Sam back down, tucking her behind him as he focused on the end of the hallway.
Sam quickly took the scent for herself, and it was Prutzmann without a doubt. Because of the construction of the storage warehouse, specifically the large gap that left a two or three-foot-wide space along the ceiling, air flow was almost constant and pinpointing Prutzmann’s location was impossible. She looked up, watching for lights as the lights in their hallway went out. Sam didn’t see any flashes lighting up other aisles. She tugged gently on Vincent’s arm to get his attention before she spoke.
“Where is he?”
Vincent moved slowly, glancing back at her as he answered. “I don’t know. The ventilation in here...”
“Yeah, I know. He could be anywhere.” Sam glanced back behind her, her eyes adjusting to the darkness and enhancing the grey vision she now possessed. Nothing was behind them yet, and she couldn’t smell any other werewolves... only Prutzmann. She turned back and pushed Vincent’s arm again. “Should we move that way?”
“It will turn on the lights.”
“Well, we can’t just stay here. Even if we scrap the mission, we still have to get out of here.”
Vincent turned back, his irritation evident. “Why would we go?”
“Hey,” Sam began. “Don’t get snorty with me.” Sam squinted into the dark. “We’ve already been back there, so let’s keep going forward. Lights or no lights.”
“Alright. Stay behind me.”
“Excuse me?”
Vincent closed his eyes and turned. Part of him already knew what would be facing him, and he was right. Arms crossed, frown creasing her forehead, eyes narrowed, Sam was the picture of a female who had been challenged. She was cute, all five-feet three-inches of her standing there in front of him... fearless and feisty, and quite honestly all he wanted to do was find the nearest empty storage unit and proceed to drown in her for as long as possible. But...
“Sweetheart, I was sworn to protect you, long before there was an ‘us’... Please let me.”
Sam started to answer, but suddenly the loud sound of scraping metal-on-metal reverberated through the warehouse. It would have been an awful sound even before the conversion, but with werewolf hearing everything was super loud. Sam quickly covered her ears, trying to diminish the din. Vincent winced visibly, his shoulders nearly coming up over his ears.
The scraping stopped as abruptly as it started, and an eerie kind of quiet descended.
Sam lowered her hands from her ears and quickly took to scenting the air, the only way to ‘see’ anything in the almost total blackness of the space. She could hear Vincent doing the same.
“I smell fresh air,” Vincent whispered, glancing behind them. “I can’t tell how many came in, can you?”
“No.”
Sam could hear him muttering Irish curses under his breath as he reached for her hand. “C’mon. I think there’s a lift near the emergency lights up ahead. We need to go up.” He pulled her along gently behind him.
“Up? Why?”
“To get to the right storage unit.” They hurried down the hallway to the spot where it opened onto an entry. Sam could see that it was night outside, the driveway area outside the glass door shrouded in darkness. The entry area they were in was relatively well lit by a pair of low wattage bulbs, at least enough to ascertain there were a pair of all-purpose runners on the floor, and a large moving cart and several dollies parked by the far wall.
Vincent pressed the elevator button and stepped back from the doors as he looked up at the indicator lights above. There were only two floors, so the elevator didn’t have far to travel. Vincent suddenly frowned in thought, though the smile softened it as he turned to Sam. “Snorty?”
Sam chuckled. “Yes, snorty.”
Vincent laughed, the deep sound mingling with the chime of the elevator as it arrived. The laugh faded quickly, though, as the doors slid open and Prutzmann snarled from within the elevator. Vincent responded in kind and launched himself into the elevator. Sam moved, but not quickly enough, and the doors slid closed just as she reached them.
34
SAM’S PALMS FELT LIKE they were on fire, the burning and tingling growing stronger as she continued to pound on the elevator door. It was stupid and fruitless, effort-wise, but as soon as the doors closed on Vincent, it was like her brain had shut down. At least all the useful parts had, the parts that formulated plans and coherent thoughts. The panicky, silly parts were working in high order, which was why she, the experienced police officer and street savvy New Yorker, was pounding on an elevator door.
“Don’t worry... John won’t kill him.”
Sam stopped immediately, and whirled toward the source of the voice... As the young woman stepped into the light. Her blond hair was pulled back in a messy bun, but the brown eyes looking back at Sam were familiar, and not simply from the night at the Fenris Bund Rally... They were like Vincent’s eyes...
“You... You’re his... You’re Alice Kremer.”
Alice smiled. “Prutzmann. Alice Prutzmann.”
Sam couldn’t hide her surprise, and felt her eyebrows shoot up. “Prutzmann?”
Alice giggled girlishly, a sound that told Sam instinctively that in another life, under much different circumstances, she would have really liked this girl, and they probably could have been friends. Under the current circumstances, though, Sam knew she would do well to remember that Alice Kremer Prutzmann was most likely not feeling particularly charitable towards her.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you. You look good for a dead woman.”
Alice’s mirth faded, as did the wattage of her smile. “Did Vincent tell you that? That I was dead?”
“He’s never spoken of you to me.”
Alice’s jaw tightened, her lips pressed so firmly together that they were almost losing color. “I don’t suppose he would... Shooting me and all that. It isn’t exactly pillow talk, is it?” She opened her mouth, the color flowing back into her lips and turning them almost blood red as Alice scented Sam. “My beloved brother. I can still smell him on you.”
Sam tried to shrug off the apprehension that was building within, tried to stay relaxed so that Alice wouldn’t sense her anxiety. She needed to find Vincent, and the two of them needed to get the hell out of here. Sam took a breath and focused before speaking. “So, is Prutz keeping Vincent busy because you wanted to see me alone, or do you just not want to see him at all?”
“There will be plenty of time for he and I to have a good long visit...but right n
ow, I wanted to meet you, to see you, to see what my brother loves.” The words were lovely, but something lurking in her voice, a note of hostility, made the hair on the back of Sam’s neck stand on end.
“Well... You’ve seen me... Can I go now?”
Alice flashed a cold smile. “Not so fast.”
35
VINCENT’S FATHER HAD always said he had an impulsive streak, a characteristic that had gotten him into scrapes on more than one occasion when he was growing up. He’d always dismissed it before, but right now his father’s voice was ringing in his ears and Vincent had to admit jumping into the elevator with Prutzmann may have been a bit impulsive. He and Prutzmann were equally matched, but as the doors slid closed behind him, and he heard Sam scream his name, it dawned on him that in his enthusiasm to trounce his adversary he had just left her alone. He felt suddenly claustrophobic in the space, wanting nothing more than to peel the doors back open and get back to her side.
That momentary lapse of attention was just the window of opportunity Prutzmann needed to land a solid punch that sent Vincent slamming into the wall. Vincent slid down to the floor of the elevator. He gasped for breath as his chest constricted and his gut wrenched at the thoughts suddenly flashing through his mind, not of his own minor injuries, but of Sam... Of how she could be hurt... Of how she would be hurt... As much as it had been encouraged, Hudson had warned that a mating would change him, and Vincent had to grudgingly admit that the good doctor was right again. He had felt the increase in his awareness, his senses enhanced to an almost painful level in the last 24 hours... When she had gone to meet her partner, Vincent had felt a physical pain at her absence, and that same pain was overwhelming him now.
“Crushing, isn’t it?” Prutzmann nodded. “That bond... is so intense...” He crouched down, his head cocked slightly as he smirked. “After our first time together, your sister and I couldn’t breathe when we were apart.” Vincent’s face darkened, but he continued to struggle to breathe, to regain some kind of control over his body. Prutzmann reached out, brushing a piece of lint off Vincent’s coat. “I was beginning to think all these years of hunting and celibacy had put you off your game. Frankly, I don’t know how you could wait so long to taste that—”
Vincent growled, lunging forward at Prutzmann and sending them both tumbling across the floor. Vincent landed a punch to Prutzmann’s face, and blood from the resulting split lip spattered onto Prutzmann’s shirt.
The elevator jolted to a stop at the second floor and the doors opened. The two men scrambled apart and got to their feet. Neither attempted to exit, and soon the doors quietly slid closed.
Prutzmann chuckled as he stepped towards the center of the elevator, his smirk fading as he glanced down at the small bloodstain on his crisp white shirt. “Oh fuck! I knew I should have stripped before, but...” He winked and set to rolling up his sleeves. “I didn’t want your mate to get all hot and bothered.”
With a growl, Vincent swung at Prutzmann, landing a solid punch to the ribs that sent the other man reeling backward, followed by another sound impact to the chin. Prutzmann crashed into the opposite wall, a growling exhalation whooshing out of him as the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Vincent quickly reached into his coat for his guns.
“Vincent. Just. Stop.” He looked up quickly at Prutzmann as the other man slid down the opposite wall. Prutzmann pulled his legs up, resting his arms on his knees, and looked at the Irishman with a half-amused, half-pained expression. “Truce, okay?”
Vincent was incredulous. “You’re joking, right?”
“We need to talk.”
“Talk?” Vincent shook his head slowly, his eyes fixed on the other werewolf. “What could you possibly have to say to me that I would want to hear?”
Prutzmann smirked. “I’m dying.”
“I stand corrected.”
Prutzmann chuckled. “Yeah, I thought you might enjoy that.” His smile faded into a concerned frown. “Vincent, there are some things you need to know... about Alice and I.”
“Hudson said she’s alive.” Vincent hesitated, then added quietly, “Is she well?”
Prutzmann smiled softly. “Yes. She heals quickly, like you, and—”
“I mean is she happy, John?”
“Yes... And I do my best to keep her that way, which is why I am here.” Prutzmann sighed, stretching his legs out in from of him and wincing as the movement pulled at his side. “I... am healing a little slower every day.” He tried to take a deep breath but winced again. Clearly one of Vincent’s blows had cracked more than one rib, and it didn’t matter how many times one went through a change, broken bones were broken bones and they hurt like a sonofabitch.
“The virus...”
“Is reconverting, yes. After our last dance in October, it took me two weeks to heal up. This...” Prutzmann gestured to his side. “Who knows?”
Vincent relaxed a bit, taking his hands away from his guns. He’d heard rumors of werewolves reconverting, the virus effectively self-destructing in the cells. Instead of reverting back to being purely human, however, the effect was more like the slow death of AIDS as the effects of injuries and the body’s own weakness made them vulnerable to even the simplest illnesses. A fucking head cold could kill you after complete reconversion... He looked at the man slumped on the ground before him, and even though he had every reason on Earth to hate him, had for over a decade, he simply couldn’t conjure up anymore for him now.
“Alice knows?”
Prutzmann nodded. “She thinks we can find a way to convert my cells again.” He smiles, lowering his head as he picks at the stain on his shirt.
“She was always tenacious.”
Prutzmann cleared his throat roughly and smiled. “Very.”
Vincent sighed. “Sam—”
“Is fine. She won’t hurt her. She needs her.”
Vincent frowned. “Needs her? For what?”
36
“YOU NEED ME TO WHAT?”
Alice sighed dramatically at the question and glared at Sam. “I need you to help me.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
Alice smirked. “Because I asked nicely.” She chuckled at her own humor before continuing. “You came here to destroy our drug supply, which would slow us down for maybe a couple of weeks. A minor inconvenience. But...” She trailed off, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Sam. “I have a feeling that your motivation for destroying it has less to do with financial inconvenience, and more to do with preventing us from using LV as a bio-weapon...am I right?” Sam didn’t respond, and Alice smiled. “That’s what I thought. Like I said, destroying the drugs is a minor setback... destroying this entire warehouse, however, will be a major event for the Pack, so you... are going to blow up the entire warehouse.”
Sam blinked a couple of times, her brow creasing in a confused frown. “Huh?”
“You are going to blow up the entire—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard you, I just...” Sam stopped, struggling for the right words, and settling on the simplest. “Why?”
“Would I want to blow up my own property?” Alice’s expression darkened. “I have my reasons, and they are mine to keep.” She glanced at the watch on her left wrist. “We’d better get moving. The security team switches out in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m still not hearing a good reason why I would do this,” Sam said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall near the elevator. “Voice of reason here... this warehouse is way to close to the surrounding buildings. A fire could spread fast, take out stores, apartments... A lot of people could die, including firefighters.” She lowered her eyes to the floor, shaking her head slowly.
Alice stared at her a moment, and if Sam had been paying attention, she would have found the glint in Alice’s eyes more than a bit alarming. Suddenly, Alice’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and she smiled pleasantly.
“The proper incentive, then? Alright... you help me accomplish this... And the Pack will never atte
mpt to touch Vincent again. Wolfmordor or not, he will be off limits. No more running, no more fears... he gets his life back, and you get him.”
Sam chuckled at that. “Am I supposed to believe that you can just tell them not to touch him and all the little wolfies will behave?”
“Yes, darlin’.” Sam tried not to wince as Alice used the same endearment that Vincent so often did. “The pack is mine, Samantha. They do as I tell them. If I tell them not to touch him, or you, they will obey me or die.”
Sam had to look away quickly to hide her amusement at the slight woman’s tone and words. “I see. So, you want me to help you to blow up the equivalent of a city block, complete with any collateral damage, and in exchange your Pack will no longer hunt, harass, maim or kill myself, your brother...” Sam trailed off as she looked up at Alice. The younger woman was waiting expectantly, an impatience in her facial expression and in her body language. This girl really wanted this to happen five minutes ago, but if Sam was going to risk everything, give up everything, she was going to get a decent deal out of it. “I want to add some people.”
Alice sighed dramatically. “Fine, who?”
“My former partner, Lenny Jackson, and his family... And Ben Lewis.”
“The little goth boy?”
“He’s not goth, he’s emo, and yes, that’s the one. His only crime was and is being my best friend... Nothing happens to him, and I do mean nothing.” Sam stared intently at Alice, hoping her gaze helped lend weight to how serious this condition was. It seemed to be working, because Alice’s expression had changed somewhat. Perhaps it was because she saw a means to get Sam to do what she wanted, or because she still had some little shred of humanity, some memory of true friendship buried in her wolfish heart. Her eyes softened, the brown becoming rich and warm and even a bit moist as she nodded.
“They won’t be touched... I’ll see to it. Do we have a deal?”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
The Bloodline Series Box Set Page 42