I strolled toward the counter, taking my time. An abandoned book sat on one of the tables: A History of Spectacularly Great Escapes. I picked it up and strolled to the bookcase.
The argument with Sarakas roared in my head. Maybe I wasn’t stuck. I had choices, they were simply hard to recognize and difficult to make. Yes, the bureau would make my life miserable if I quit, but if I left town, they’d have to hunt me down first. If I stayed away from concentrated areas, Big Fed’s chances of finding me were few. If I abandoned the house without putting it up for sale, chances are no one would know I left until I was long gone.
Head north, leave word for my father via Zelda.
But I was flat broke. Davey’s adoption, medical bills, and education sapped my income. My only savings were stuffed in a dusty old car hidden in a junkyard, and it wasn’t a lot of funds.
I could unload my literary contraband through Rainer and liquidate a few weapons through private sales. Within weeks, I could have enough money to fund a reasonable escape.
Of course, such drastic measures would mean saying goodbye to people like Zelda, Andreas Sarakas, and Davey. Chances were he’d prefer to stay with his boyfriend. Fortunately, Peter was the best bodyguard a person could choose. Davey would be okay.
After a fashion.
If I left Davey to Svetlana’s care in the dog house, her kennel would ultimately destroy all his chances of normalcy. He would never have a regular life. Probably never go to college. Never have a house and picket fence, or whatever kids dreamed of after the apocalypse.
The RFID tag around my throat snipped out and took a DNA sample. Keeping me in line, checking my vitals, tearing my privacy to shreds.
Fuck it. I was out. Done. Time for me to make arrangements. I needed money for Davey and I needed an immediate exit strategy requiring minimal bloodshed.
I shoved the book of great escapes back on the shelf.
Someone touched my arm, jerking me from my daydreams. My stomach smashed into my tonsils and I reached for my sidearm. My weapon cleared the holster as my elbow smashed into a soft tit. The woman squeaked and bent over, clutching herself.
“I’m so sorry!” A flush swelled under my chest and cheeks. I holstered the Jericho and reached for her elbow. “Are you okay?”
She looked up at me and laughed painfully. Her beauty and humor struck me dumb. Zero brain cells left. My hand embraced her elbow, skin on skin. Normal heat, normal bones. I considered letting go, but didn’t actually release her. I noted the silver nose ring and jet black hair.
“It’s a silly book,” she said.
“Oh?”
“Half the heroes in the book were captured again. They only tasted freedom for a moment, and then it was gone.”
I dropped her elbow. “You don’t say.”
“I would have written it differently.”
“How’s that?”
“I’d choose the ones who escaped and returned to fight. People like Henry Box Brown.”
“Who?”
“He was a slave in early America. His family was sold off, so he stuffed himself in a crate and mailed it up north. When he arrived, he was a free man, and he became an active abolitionist.”
“Huh.”
“Dark roast with a double shot?” she said.
I smiled. “Thanks.”
“Kate, right?”
“Kaid.”
“Well, Kaid, nice to meet you. Kind of.” She rubbed her breast and pulled a face. “That’ll bruise.”
“Sorry!” A blush rushed to my face and I couldn’t leave fast enough.
Chapter 22
Sarakas brought sandwiches, and we settled down to watch a soccer game. An hour later, Davey walked in, nervously clenching something in his fist. He opened his palm and showed me a tiny pill. Morphine. I quirked an eyebrow, not sure I wanted it.
“Doctor's orders,” he said. “For our sake. I hate hearing the breathy pain sound you make. It's pitiful, it sparks my appetite, and I have bad news.”
Uh-oh. I accepted the pill. Davey and I hadn't talked about how addictive painkillers could be, but it didn't seem important then. Mostly because I was in pain and predators might find that yummy. I slipped the morphine under my tongue and chased it with cool coffee. Davey leaned against the doorway.
“Peter called,” he said. “Something came up…” His eyebrow rose, presenting a question to the government spooks in the room. How much should he reveal?
“Go ahead,” Sarakas said. “I can take it.”
“Someone sent a dismembered corpse to the Russian house with Svetlana’s name on the box. The wolves think vampires did it.”
Sarakas’ jaw fell.
“Whose body parts?” I said. “What parts? How was it delivered?”
“Wolf parts, from the smell: heart, tongue, hands. A young male. Peter wanted to make sure we were being extra careful.”
“Who the hell mails organs to people?” Sarakas said. “What kind of shit are you two involved in? Why am I the only one acting like this is serious?”
“Peter will take care of it,” Davey said, stars illuminating his worried eyes.
I pointed at him. “I did not approve of all the romance going on around here. Christ, we're in the middle of an apocalyptic war.”
“I'm eighteen. I don't need your permission to love someone.”
I covered my eyes. “Hell.”
“Kaid,” Andreas said. “How close to an apocalyptic war are we?”
“Pretty darn. I mean, strange vampires are coming to town and threatening Svetlana’s people, but no one cares. Hell, the government is engaging in mutt genocide with public support, and I have some awful suspicions regarding the missing persons case Contrell is working. Plus, someone is out to get me, for real.”
I revealed too much on account of the morphine. Shenanigans with Svetlana left me worse for wear, pained and exhausted. Between the drug and the beer, I was dangerously close to stupid.
“Are you sure this isn’t half paranoia?” Suspicion clouded his pretty blues.
“They came into the house,” Davey said. “After the bomb, a killer broke in and tried to murder Kaidlyn in the middle of the night. She barely survived. If I had been home, he might have killed me.”
Andreas paled. “What? How?” All at once, he reddened and shot out of his seat, spilling his beer. “How dare you keep something like that from me? Goddamn it, Kaidlyn! I deserve to know. I’m your friend, in case you forgot!”
“How much do you really want to know, Sarakas? I mean, where’s the line? My life is pretty damn muddled, and I don’t know how much to divulge. I mean, I want you to have plausible deniability. I’m trying to protect you, Andreas. You’re, like, my best friend ever.”
He stuffed his hands under his arms and hugged himself. “Look, I think we are both in way too deep, past the surface stuff. There is no plausible deniability for me, and we have to face that. I need to know everything, Kaid—”
“Kaidlyn,” Davey whispered. His tone was a hundred-percent warning, and it chilled me to the bone. I pulled my sidearm. Sarakas drew his weapon, looking for something to target. We stood while Davey’s nose twitched and his eyes glazed over.
Quiet. The universe lulled: no birds, no neighborhood murmur. A drone whispered overhead and kept going, but I wasn’t at ease. A vehicle pulled to a stop out front. I peeked through the window shade and saw a Hummer parked at the curb with its driver leaning against it. A big, bright thing with more ego than sense. The vehicle was ridiculous, too.
Erik.
He stood with his arms crossed, ankles crossed, unsmiling, white hair blowing in the gentle breeze of a brewing storm. Cryptic. Skin the powdery shade of flawless milk.
Built like a freight train on growth hormones.
He could have approached the house. He didn’t.
He might have shouted obscenities and threats. He didn’t.
He was strong enough to stroll in and kill me, no questions asked, but he stood, waiting, staring
at me across the yard and through the window. Dammit, he must have learned that I killed Hunter. He probably came for blood.
Erik was a force to be reckoned with, even in his normie flesh. As a wolf, he kept a kennel full of rambunctious monsters in check and even killed four vamps in one sitting. I had one comfort; if he passed the security gate without scratching his vehicle, it meant Rainer had hacked the tech to let him in, and I didn’t think Rainer would hand me over for execution.
However, the stillness resting in that massive man gave me pause and tickled a stash of primal fear in my lizard brain. Someday, that wolf would be at my throat. It was inevitable. I should kill him for the sake of it, a preventative measure. Theoretically, I had backup now. I might not get the opportunity again. Sarakas and I together stood a chance. A slim one.
The Jerichos contained enough silver to take down the average wolf—which Erik wasn’t. The gun safe held three boxes of Ag rounds and Sarakas surely had a few mags on him.
“Kaid?” Sarakas said.
“I don’t know.”
He came to the window, looked, and saw Erik. His jaw dropped and then clacked shut. “Never seen an albino before. He’s big. Do we need to kill him?”
“Maybe someday,” I said. “Possibly not today.”
“He’s goddamn huge. Kaidlyn?”
“I don’t know, Sarakas.”
“What do I need to know?”
“Sometimes he wants to kill me, sometimes not. He might have a personal vendetta against me, on account of us killing at least one of his wolves during the Red hostel raid.”
Davey gasped and covered his mouth. “Hunter?”
I didn’t answer. Sarakas whapped his forehead.
“Kaidlyn, this is why you can’t do this crap! How the hell do you expect to survive this when you’re standing at ground zero for where these two worlds collide? You’re like a fault line. Now there’s this hulk of a dog in the front yard, and we’re debating whether or not to start shooting. There shouldn’t be any hesitation.”
“Let me talk to him.”
“You can’t talk sense to mutts—”
Davey cleared his throat and Sarakas shut up, his icy beautiful eyes flashing with anger and chagrin.
“You said you wanted to know everything,” I accused. “Be careful what you ask for. Maybe both of you should head to the truck. I’ll get you a head start.”
“No,” Davey and Andreas said. I didn’t deserve these boys. I would get them killed. I reached for the door handle
“Stand up straight and don’t get winded,” Andreas said. “You don’t want to look like a wounded animal.”
“He can smell my injuries from here,” I said, recalling the massive bruise on my kidneys and the fact that I’d only recently stopped peeing blood. The broken foot had healed considerably with the artificial stimulants I’d been taking, but Erik would know I was a gimpy gazelle.
Sarakas paled. “Davey, is that true?”
“Probably.”
“Kaid, under no circumstances are you to go out there. Don’t you dare step foot outside this house.”
“Lock the door behind me,” I said.
“Not a chance.” Sarakas groaned. “You have two minutes to prove he’s peaceable before I start shooting.”
I held the Jericho as I stepped out of the house and kicked the door shut.
Erik’s expression was guarded. White hair, pink eyes, disturbing heat. Even more disturbing teeth, of which I had a great view. His lips parted wider as he breathed through his mouth, then he clamped his teeth together.
I stood aside, watching him, hating knowing that he could crush my head in his palms like a ripe tomato. Ag rounds itched in my guns. Self-preservation screamed that I raise the weapon, plug him good, and bury him deep.
Hell, he probably hoped I’d try.
He hadn’t stepped foot on my property. Instead, he waited for me to decide what I would do. I began the long journey across the yard. My heart thundered like I was walking to my execution, but instinctively, I thought, this isn’t how he would kill me. He wants something.
“You owe me a life, Durant. Hunter was my friend.”
Guilt smacked my weary lungs. Useless to try and explain that I’d been doing my job, and maybe Hunter should have run instead of coming at a team of agents. I didn’t imagine the company line would sooth Erik’s anger. The FBHS didn’t permit mutts to live, and Hunter would have died whether he surrendered or not, which wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair, and Hunter’s death proved as much.
Erik, the monster with forearms the size of my thighs, believed I owed him a blood debt. Odd that he wasn’t already at my throat. Odder still that he’d come to my house, completely outside of Rainer’s bunker where we were occasionally forced to politely avoid each other. What the hell could he need from me, and how much pride did he have to swallow to show up at my doorstep?
“If not for your Russian connections, you’d be dead,” he clarified. “Talk to Svetlana. I want our peace brokered before shit hits the nocturnal fan.”
Ah, yes. He wouldn’t kill me in retribution until I fell from favor with the werewolf queen, Svetlana, who could wipe out his clan.
Despite his tentative peace treaty, if he came at me, we’d both bleed and one of us would not walk away.
His long white hair and ghostly pallor seemed airbrushed, almost gleaming. He was angry tonight, his skin taut. Bulbous muscles, achromatic skin, the stature of a god, and the strength of an incoming airliner. Yet, he could easily grace the cover of some smut novel with his sweeping hair and muscles up to his chin.
A wave of absolute curiosity ran through me and sparked a mad impulse. If I raised my weapon and shot him, I would get to see his wolf. Up close, personal. Wasn’t worth dying over, though. Considering he fought his way to the top of the mutt-food chain, he could definitely take me.
Not to mention his habit of removing his enemies’ heart. I revisited the idea of shooting him between the eyes.
“How long have we been out here?” I wished I hadn’t taken the morphine. My sluggish blood pumped slowly, leaving me faded, my consciousness watery. Hell, I might have been dreaming.
Erik shrugged. “A minute.”
“My partner promised to shoot you within two minutes if you haven’t convinced him that you’re domesticated and stuff.”
His anger charged the air. Hair rose on my arms, my serpent brainstem tingled, and indignation followed.
“I didn’t invite you, Erik, and you didn’t call. Notice how I'm not shooting you? We've come so far.” I smiled. “Are you coming in or not?”
A face popped up behind the illegally shaded window.
“Christ on a stick!” I jumped back three feet, pain lancing through my foot. Peavey, one of Erik’s lieutenants, was ex-military, tan all over, and had a habit of roaming around naked in broad daylight. Today he wore clothes, which was good or bad, depending on how one chose to look at it.
“What kind of partner are we talking about?” Peavey said. “Are you keeping a sexy lady in there or what?”
“My work partner. But he is sexy, if that’s your type.” I winked at Peavey. He stuck out his tongue.
Erik opened the door, revealing Peavey and Marc, both friends of the late Hunter. I blinked a few times in dumb surprise as Marc got out. He was tall, bald, black and beautiful, a closet bookworm who worked security at a loud nightclub. Three mutts, two agents. What could possibly go wrong?
“Y'all are stupid,” Peavey said. “Not one FBHS agent but two? You've all lost your minds.”
“You'd rather sit in the driveway?” I said.
“No sense giving your partner a chance to ID me, too.”
“He's good people.”
“I don't care if he's Gandhi reincarnated. He's people and I'm a mutt. How do you see that working when push comes to shove?” He wasn't saying anything untrue or neurotic. He was being honest. Secondly, I didn’t care.
“I don’t need this. Y’all came to me.” I p
ivoted to hobble back across the yard. Erik watched, but Marc scooped his hand behind my knees. I reflexively jammed my sidearm into his sternum. “The heck are you doing?”
“Your breathy moans are driving me mad.”
“If plan on carrying me, you've got a re-education coming.”
“Fine.” He slid his forearm under my armpit and around my back. Hot, firm. At least he came to stand at my left, leaving my dominant side free. He smelled of lemons and musk.
Sarakas stood on the porch, hand on holster, spooked by Marc’s move. I shook my head before my partner pulled his favorite Glock.
Marc helped me with the door, and then we were all inside, standing in my living room. Sarakas set his hands on his hips (only a breath from his gun) and gave us the once-over. Might as well make introductions.
“This is Erik. He's kinda a big thing.” I laughed because he was a big thing: all muscle and testosterone. No one else found it funny, so I shut up. I was nervous and fuzzy.
“Kennel master,” Erik specified with brute honesty.
“Oh.” Sarakas rocked back on his heels and glared at me. “Kennels?”
“Wasn't my idea,” I said.
“But you knew! Christ, Durant! What did we talk about?”
“Everyone needs somewhere to be safe.”
“Well, thank you Mr. Fucking Rogers.” He waved his hands. “Kennels are statistical fucking disasters! What the fuck are you thinking by condoning this?”
“Wow. Three f-bombs in a row,” I mused. He reddened, and I think he had it on his mind to hit me.
“Still trust him?” Peavey said, his voice thickening with monster energy.
“Sarakas isn't going to crack over this.” Why? Because knowing that Svetlana jumped on a bomb for me softened his heart. A mutt nearly died saving my life, in public, against all common sense. Sarakas respected it. He was predictable in that brothers-in-arms way, and we had a solidarity that only happened when people were at the same end of the battlefield. “He’s good people.”
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