Sinner’s Salvation (Sinners Never Die #3)

Chapter One

G erry Ledger, Counterterrorism Coordinator for Homeland Security, rubbed his hands together, a huge grin on his face.

Things were finally coming together .

He could hardly wait until he had all the evidence neatly obtained and documented. The hardest job was already done, capture of one of the most dangerous women on Earth. Which he’d done himself. His informant had been correct. Surprise could be used as a deadly weapon.

Now he just had to get her to talk.

How large was their group?

What were their limitations?

How could he use them as assets?

Did they already have members of their group in the US government? All his life, he’d been underestimated by everyone. His father and older brother had never thought he would amount to much. But he’d been a sheriff’s deputy for four years before quitting to work for his brother’s election campaign for Congress. As one of his brother’s aides, he’d gotten to see the underbelly of politics in Washington DC. Gotten to see and learned to navigate it.

When his brother, who was hard on crime—domestic and international—left Congress to become the Secretary of Homeland Security, he’d offered his little brother the post of Counterterrorism Coordinator. He’d said it would keep Gerry busy and out of trouble. He could be a hero for once. All he had to do was rubber stamp the operations brought to him by his team. Operations that his brother had already been briefed on and approved.

Gerry noted the people who reported back to his brother, and kept a smile on his face, but he knew who to trust and who he couldn’t.

He’d kept the number of Homeland Security people who knew about this particular operation small, several newer agents and a couple of politicians who thought like him, who had goals like his.

Then he’d contacted Army Intelligence for help. They didn’t normally have anything to do with operations on US soil, but he’d asked for a favor, and they’d agreed to send someone. They’d even let him use a small guard team and a couple of rooms at Fort Hamilton base in New York State.

Gerry approached the room where the woman was waiting, bloody from the bullet he’d already put in her. A bullet that should have killed her, but she wasn’t dead. In fact, she was healing so rapidly it was almost like...magic.

Whatever fueled that magic was going to belong to him . Yeah, he was going to be a hero. One so large and powerful he’d be sitting at the Resolute Desk inside the Oval Office.

***

T he bitter acrid scent in the air was Anna Breznik’s first clue that all was not well. The mixture of bleach, alcohol, and blood—a lot of blood—scratching the inside of her nose and scraping her tongue.

The rest of the world was dark and silent, as if she were at the bottom of a deep cave, cold and alone.

That...wasn’t right. She’d been unable to shut out the world for so long its insistent presence often caused physical pain. Headaches and ringing in the ears were common. She’d tried resting in a sensory deprivation chamber, but the issue with that was you had to trust other people with your safety. She could count the number of people she trusted that much on one hand.

This quiet, dark place would be a pleasant escape from the relentless white noise of the world if it weren’t for that horrible smell.

She took in another breath, sorting through the scent. There were two more notes to it. Sulfur with an edge of sweet plastic.

Gunpowder ?

All those notes of the odor added up to one thing: Violence .

Her stomach clenched, twisted, and attempted to turn itself into a black hole. Quiet and dark were two things she couldn’t indulge in while hostility hovered on the edge of her senses.

Anna pushed to hear or see something, anything, and discovered her eyes were closed. How had that happened?

She had no memory of closing them or entering a place where all those pieces of the scent might be found. Didn’t remember anything after...getting into a limo to return to her nephew Yvgeny’s hotel in New York City. Yvgeny, though he acted like a fresh-faced youth, was also fastidious. His hotel staff would have dealt with such filth immediately.

She had been inside the long vehicle, FBI Agent Brian Stettler seated next to her, stiff and silent, like a prey animal who knows a dangerous predator is too close. Across from her had been...a man who’d identified himself as a member of Homeland Security. His identification had been legitimate, but...

Anna paged through her memories, usually in perfect chronological order, and found holes where something should have been, but wasn’t.

That didn’t happen. Not to her. Not to someone who’d been changed by a virus hundreds of years ago into something more than human. Normal people would call her a vampire, but she hated that name. It implied she was created by magic.

An idiotic notion.

She was a survivor of a disease that had killed millions eight hundred years ago. Not many survived, and an even smaller number had been changed. Only a handful during the first sweep of the sickness. Over time, as the illness spread across the world, a few more joined the ranks.

The physical changes her immune system worked on her body as a response to the infection were irreversible, and not all of them were good.

Healing most wounds occurred at miraculous speeds. She was stronger than a normal human, with heightened senses.

She didn’t get sick.

She didn’t age.

She couldn’t have children. None of them could.

She couldn’t eat food and had to obtain nutrition directly from other normal humans by drinking their blood.

There was only one thing that could have caused her memory loss and unconsciousness. A catastrophic head injury. As close to death as she could get and still come back from it.

Any major head injury could result in some short-term recall problems, but in the last century getting shot was the most common reason. It had happened to her four times.

Once during the First World War – shot by German soldiers.

Once during the Second World War – also shot by German soldiers.

Once during the Korean War – blown up by North Korean soldiers.

Once during the Bosnian War – shot by the President of Serbia, Slobodan Milo?evi?’s forces.

And now, shot by an American law enforcement officer. Either he’d been instructed by someone to kill her, or he knew killing her wouldn’t be an easy task. Either reason led to nothing good. If she was under attack, so was her family.

Family was everything .

Rage boiled outwards from the pit of her stomach, threatening to scorch everything she touched, be it objects, buildings, or people.

A noise, subtle and small, distracted her for a moment. It told her she wasn’t alone in wherever she was and it motivated her to regain control. Until she knew the scope of the attack, the reasons behind it, and who was responsible, killing every living thing between herself and freedom would not help her or her family.

So, she forced herself to maintain the illusion of unconsciousness.

She re-examined her memory of the Homeland Security agent, of his expressions and body language. He’d been stoic and unmoved by the events at the airport. He’d shown her some respect, bowing slightly when he introduced himself. Perhaps that should have told her something was wrong.

People didn’t do much of that today.

What had led the agent to shoot her? She focused on recalling the last few seconds before he must have done it. Had she threatened the shooter? Had someone ordered him to put a bullet in her brain? Was Brian Stettler complicit in the attack on her?

She hoped not. She liked him. He reminded her of Yvgeny and even of her son Bazyli. That, however, wouldn’t save him if she determined he had something to do with this attack.

Memories began to surface, fuzzy at first, then sharper until the details were etched into crystal.

The Homeland Security agent had been asking her about her business interests in New York.

She was in the middle of an answer when he brought his gun up and shot her. No hesitation, no change in body language, no hint of stress or fear.

There had been the beginning of a sound.

The memory slowly gained substance, color, and the sound became a shout. It hadn’t come from her or the shooter. It came from Brian. It wasn’t a word, just an unintelligible bellow at the same time as his hand connected with her shoulder.

He’d tried to push her out of the way of the bullet.

That didn’t necessarily make him an ally, but Yvgeny liked him, and he had the potential, however remote, to become a vampire. All of which put him in an odd protective category.

She resolved to do her best to get him out of this uncomfortable situation.

Another noise, fabric sliding against fabric, and someone groaned.

She was in a small room, given the lack of background sounds and air movement, with at least one other person. That groan sounded like it had come out of the bottom of a deep well.

“I don’t understand,” a man said, in a tight, guttural tone.

That was Brian Stettler’s voice, and it didn’t contain its usual lightness of surprise or bite of irony.

“Why would you shoot her?” he continued. “And why am I here?”

“We got a tip that this woman isn’t who she says she is,” someone else answered. The Homeland Security agent who shot her. His voice had an irritating whine buried in it. “She’s a threat. We didn’t realize how big of a threat until she didn’t die of a wound that should have killed her.”

“Maybe your aim is just that bad,” Brian muttered.

“ She should be dead ,” the Homeland Security agent suddenly shouted. “The wound on the back of her head is gone , like it was never there.” His voice bounced around the room. “She’s some kind of freak , and I’m going to find out what.”

“Well, I’m not a freak,” Brian said, with more control but no less intensity than the Homeland Security agent. “I’m an FBI agent, and you fucking shot me .”

Ooh , he sounded angry.

“I didn’t kill you, did I?” the Homeland Security agent said, with no sympathy at all. “I just grazed you. I had to make sure you aren’t...whatever she is.”

“You sound completely crazy,” Brian said, turning the last word into an accusation.

“I needed to make sure you’re human, and that required an experiment,” the Homeland Security agent said, lowering his voice as if it was a difficult task. He was easily riled. “The first of many.”

Experiment ? Like they were laboratory animals?

Had the worst happened then? Was the secret of vampires existing in the real world out?

“Shooting us was an experiment?” Brian asked, his tone incredulous. “That’s attempted murder times two.”

“She isn’t human, Agent Stettler,” the cool voice of the Homeland Security agent said, now devoid of emotion. “Not anymore.”

“She’s as human as you and I,” Brian replied, his voice hoarse and breathing erratic. “She has some kind of disease, that’s all. Maybe it slows down her metabolism or something.”

Interesting that he’d come up with that on his own. Or maybe he hadn’t. He had been stashed away in Yvgeny’s safe room with Nika, Baz’s girlfriend, and Samantha, Yvgeny’s paramedic. Nika had likely explained a few things.

“However she got to be the way she is, she’s different and my source says she’s not alone,” the voice said, with a hard, implacable edge. “They heal fast and they’re stronger than normal humans. We need to understand the extent of the differences between us and them. We need to know the limitations of their healing and fighting abilities.”

There was a long pause before Brian spoke again.

“You may want to reconsider that,” he said, his voice blurred with exhaustion. “She’s a member of the Slovenian government and the head of a large financial institution. She’ll be missed. There could be...repercussions.”

The other man chuckled. “As far as the rest of the world knows, you and this creature died in a car accident. The vehicle caught on fire. I’m afraid there isn’t much left of you for your family to bury.”

In other words, we can kill you whenever we want .

“Me?” Brian asked. “Why would you...” His voice trailed off. “ Why ?”

“She requested you as her FBI contact, and her behavior toward you is...possessive.”

“I work for her nephew and he knows I’m an FBI agent, so I think she found me odd, and wanted to keep an eye on me.”

“Possibly,” the other man said, in a flat tone that communicated quite clearly he didn’t believe it. “I’m sure we will have answers to all our questions eventually.”

There was a rustle of fabric. “It’s in your best interest to cooperate, Mr. Stettler.” Soft footfalls. “When she wakes, convince her to do the same.” The Homeland Security agent’s voice came from a different spot in the room. “Your life depends on it.”

Something metallic rattled, then a rush of fresh air swept into the room, carrying with it more of the bitter smell, along with the sound of several voices and heavy footsteps. Then it all disappeared with the audible snick of a door closing. A thunk followed. Probably a lock being engaged.

“Fuck,” Brian said.

Indeed.

Rage flared hot through her body again, settling into her bones, hardening into resolve.

She was going to destroy that Homeland Security agent, and then she’d destroy the source of his information. Those were the clear threats, because if they were still trying to figure out what made her different, they didn’t know enough.

She needed more information before she did anything. All she knew right now was that she was in a smallish room, on a bed or gurney, and Brian was seated somewhere to her left.

She moved one wrist, just a bit, no more than a tightening of muscles, but it was enough to tell her that her arm was restrained by something cool and hard. Metallic. Without looking at it, she had no idea if she could break free or not, and she wasn’t ready to open her eyes and put herself into play yet.

“Fuck,” Brian said, again. “Fuckity, fuck fuck.”

The urge to laugh almost overtook her. He was such a prickly, prudish young man at the oddest of moments.

Anna listened, hard. Taking in all the information she could with her ears, nose, and skin.

His breathing was too fast. Not enough for it to be a problem, yet, but he was angry and frightened.

Air moved and the sound of footsteps told her he was on his feet. He walked until he was level with her head, then turned and walked until he was a few feet past her feet.

He did it again.

And again.

Cloth grazed her arm, and he stopped pacing.

“Anna?” he asked softly, sounding very close. “Can you give me a sign that you aren’t...dead?”

What kind of a sign? They were most likely under observation. Anything she did would give whoever took them clues she didn’t want them to have.

Hands skimmed over the top of her head and down to the base of her skull. Searching, probing, but very carefully.

The scent of blood grew stronger, hers and his.

Thirst clawed at her throat, but she ignored it. There had been other times during her long life when she’d gone without blood for long periods. She could ignore it for now.

Brian sighed. Loudly. The fingers in her hair patted her once, like she was doing a good job. Then he moved away and sat back down on a chair that squeaked.

“I do not understand what’s going on,” he groaned. His voice was slightly muffled, as if he’d covered his face with his hands.

“That... guy shot you, then me,” Brian said, continuing his one-sided conversation.

Interesting. The hesitation revealed that guy hadn’t been Brian’s first choice to describe the man who’d shot her.

“So, you should be dead, but your wound isn’t visible anymore. In fact, you look completely fine. Healthy. As if nothing happened, which is impossible, because he shot you point blank in the head .” Brian’s voice went up, as if he were trying very hard to control panic.

He’d watched the fight between her family and the British vampires. He’d known about her healing abilities. He’d seen them in action before either of them left the hotel. He already knew she could heal...

Wait .

Was he talking out loud, as if to himself, to feed her information? To distract and feed false information to anyone listening to them?

“I was restrained and blindfolded, and now we’re stuck in some kind of military facility. No one knows where we are.”

Good grief, could he be more obvious?

If she reacted now, whoever was monitoring them would likely conclude that they were working together, and his life would become even more precarious.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Brian mumbled.

He followed up his words by stumbling closer to her bed and vomiting into what she hoped was a garbage can.

Whoever was monitoring them was going to think he was inept. Or a horrible actor.

A metallic thunk was followed quickly by a door opening, once again letting in fresh air, noise, and more than one person. Two sets of footsteps came into the room.

“Sir, take a seat on the chair,” a man ordered.

Brian heaved again. “S...sorry,” he managed to say in between loud burping sounds.

“Sir.”

A woman’s voice this time. “Take the garbage can and go over there in the corner.” she ordered.

Brian and his gastric orchestra moved toward her feet.

A squeaky wheel announced the entry of some kind of equipment.

“How long will this take?” the new man asked.

“A few minutes. I have to get her hooked up to the heart monitor, draw some blood, and start an IV.”

Something brushed and bumped against her arm. Metal and plastic.

Well, this wasn’t good. She couldn’t allow anyone to test her blood or perform any of the other tests the Homeland Security agent wanted.

Another opportunity to learn more about what was going on wasn’t likely to come. She’d have to make this one count.

Brian let out a huge burp and heave.

Anna opened her eyes and yanked at whatever was holding her wrists down. Metal shackles of some kind. They both snapped with metallic pings. She rolled off the gurney and onto her feet, staggering as if she were disorientated.

The man in the doorway was dressed in urban camo, wearing the usual gear for a soldier, and carrying one of those fancy rifles that fired way too many bullets per second.

No helmet though.

She threw herself forward, as if overcompensating for her stumble. Her shoulder connected with his midriff. She smacked him into the wall. He ended up on the floor, one of his feet extending far enough to stop the door from closing.

Anna glanced over her shoulder to see Brian holding the woman, dressed in fatigues and a lab coat, with a needle at her throat. She was staring at Anna as if she were the villain in a horror movie. Pasty face, rigid body, and rapid breathing.

Anna looked around the room, taking in the stark concrete gray walls and floor, and the four cameras placed around the room. One in each corner.

Oh, yes, the room was definitely under surveillance.

Lovely.

The sound of footsteps, a lot of them, echoed out in the hallway, coming closer.

“Release her,” Anna said to Brian in a pleasant tone.

After a moment’s hesitation, he did as she asked.

The woman jerked out of his grasp and plastered herself against the wall as far away from Anna as she could get.

The sounds of footsteps died and were replaced with the inhale and exhale of several people breathing heavy.

“The door is open,” Anna called out. “Please feel free to come inside and collect your people.”

Yes, please come in. Thanks to the doorway, there was only room for one man at a time to enter. She’d have her choice of weapons and snacks.

No response.

Anna hopped back onto the gurney she’d been laying on, then waved her hand at the young woman in a shooing motion.

The other woman frowned but slid closer to the door.

“Take a seat, Mr. Stettler,” Anna ordered.

He sat.

The woman jerked the door wide open and threw herself out of it.

In the hallway, a gaggle of men in military gear, including balaclavas to hide their faces, had their weapons trained on the doorway. The young woman landed on the floor and crawled away, pushing through the men clogging the hall.

The door slowly closed on its own, until it ran into that pesky foot. Someone slammed their hand against the door and held it open.

“Would you like to take your man with you?” she asked, with her very best gracious smile on her face. She gestured at the soldier on the floor. “I’m sorry I stumbled into him. I was very dizzy when I first woke up. I didn’t hurt him. Much.” She made a show of looking at the man sprawled on the floor. “Though, now that I take another look at him, he might have a concussion.”

No one moved.

The seconds ticked by with all those rifles pointed at her. The only movements were the soldiers’ subtle adjustments to keep their weapons poised while standing in combat ready positions.

None of them even glanced at their associate on the floor.

Stupid. All they were proving was that they didn’t care about each other as individuals. This wasn’t a tight team of fighters who could rely on and trust each other. Good .

“Whatever your plan is to get out of here, it isn’t going to work,” someone out of sight said. The Homeland Security agent.

Interesting. She was being threatened by someone too cowardly to show himself.

“It’s hard to have a conversation when I can’t see who I’m talking to,” she replied.

No reply.

Someone whisper shouted, “Pull him out of there.”

Anna blinked, then smiled and did her best to look calm and composed.

One of the soldiers closest to the door dropped his rifle, so it dangled by its strap, grabbed hold of the unconscious soldier’s foot and dragged him out.

The door shut all on its own.

Someone turned a key in it.

“Well, that was awkward.” She glanced at Brian, who was watching her with a deep frown on his face, and heaved a sigh. “I thought they’d never leave.”