15. Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Day 7 Coronado, California
Demi hissed as ten claws pierced the skin of her forearm. The furry asshole she’d agreed to adopt curled its lips back, exposing long, sharp fangs.
“Oh, come on you one eyed, three legged, no tailed, human-hating son of a serial killer.” She crooned in a soothing—certainly not critical—tone of voice. Her new master did not tolerate criticism. “This medicine is good for you. Trust me.” A low, seething growl greeted her proclamation. She winced as the claws dug in deeper. “I’m trying to help you. This stuff prevents infection. If you don’t swallow it, you’ll get sick and back to the vet you go. Remember how much you hated it there?”
Juggling the cat and the medicine, she dipped the eyedropper into its bottle and sucked up a dose of milky liquid. The cat writhed madly in the towel wrapped around its leg and torso. Originally, only its head had been free. Until it wiggled its front legs loose and unleashed those lethal claws.
Beads of blood oozed down the fresh scratches on her arms. The cat had neatly spaced these new scratches between the scabs from their previous battles. Administering the medicine was more of a two-person job. One to hold the cat and one to force open its stubbornly clamped jaws and squirt the medicine down its hissing gullet. Not that she had a second person available to help her. Its attack on Megan and Elise three days ago had circulated through the building. Her neighbors avoided her now.
Clamping the creature to her chest, she carefully placed the medicine bottle on the kitchen counter and lifted the stopper to the orange whiskered face with its sutured eye socket. The demon’s remaining eye—which was metallic green and glittering with malice—locked with hostile intent on the eyedropper. He retracted his claws from her arm and swatted the eyedropper out of her hand.
With a soft plink, the eyedropper hit the tile. Demi groaned, watching it spin across the kitchen floor. Since bending to pick it up would plant her face too close to those murderous claws, which she had no doubt the ungrateful creature would put to good use, she walked over to the kitchen alcove with its gorgeous view of Princeton Park. Usually, the rolling grass, studded by majestic evergreens and banks of colorful flowers, soothed her.
Not today.
Not for the past four days, if she was honest.
“You’re the most ungrateful little snot in the history of ungrateful snots.” She crooned in that annoyingly sweet voice she hated. But the cat responded violently to harsh voices. “You know you’re alive because of me, right? Who rushed your furry, bleeding ass to the vet when you were dying? Who paid your vet bills? Who bought your specialty food—both wet and dry—along with your bed and carrier and toys, which you won’t even play with? Me. That’s who. The person you keep trying to bleed dry. You could at least take your medicine without shredding me.”
She eased the growling animal onto the kitchen table, towel and all, and let go, then backed away with the caution of someone expecting a bomb to go off.
The cat rolled and shook off the towel. Claws skittered against the glass table's surface as it fought to get its remaining legs beneath it. Demi winced as it leaped off the table and raced wildly across the living room, disappearing down the hall. No doubt it was diving under the guest bed, its favorite hiding place.
At least its injuries didn’t look infected—which was a relief considering her failure at getting the antibiotics into him. The vet had suggested injecting the medicine into the wet food, but the wily animal refused to eat the laced meal.
She’d bought a travel cage for the cat’s trip home from the clinic. But the vet had recommended keeping the animal contained to force rest and promote healing. So, she’d also bought a dog crate big enough to accommodate a cat bed, litter box, and bowls for water and food. The furry asshole destroyed the entire ensemble in under an hour. Hell’s bells, there had been water, wet kitty litter, and cat food everywhere. It even broke the welding on the cage and bent the metal until it could squirm its way through the bars.
She hadn’t tried to contain it after that. The effort it put into escaping the cage was more likely to cause injury than hiding under the guest room bed. At least when it was loose, it settled down. Plus, it was eating and drinking and using the litter box.
Returning to the kitchen, she retrieved the stopper from the floor and screwed it back onto the medicine bottle. She’d give the heathen some time to decompress and try again—no doubt adding to her collection of bloody scratches.
She glanced across the kitchen counter when her cell phone vibrated against the granite. Kait lit up the screen. Setting the bottle down, she picked up her phone.
“Hey, Kait, your timing is perfect.” She lifted her still-steaming cup of Colombian coffee and breathed in the full-bodied fragrance of citrus and spice. “The furry little maniac is back in hiding. I have about an hour before I have to offer my skin and blood in sacrifice to his continued good health.”
“It’s not Kait.” Aiden’s flat baritone made that instantly clear. “S kin and blood? Sacrifice? What the hell…?” his voice trailed off as if he didn’t know where to start with his questions.
“Aiden?” Demi straightened hard, bobbling her cup. Some of the coffee slopped over the edge, landing on her hand. She winced as the hot liquid sank into the healing scratches.
“Listen,” he sounded tense. “We don’t have much time.”
“Time for what?” Demi narrowed her eyes, the scratches forgotten. “Why are you on Kait’s phone?” Was he with Kait? He must be. That was the only way he’d have access to his sister’s phone.
She didn’t know where Kait lived these days. The location was a big mystery. She wondered sometimes if all the secrecy was necessary, but considering what Kait’s husband had gone through with the US government along with that rogue, ultra wealthy secret society—yeah, she could see where Cosky was jittery when it came to their safety.
“I’m on Kait’s phone because you pick up for her.” She heard frustration in his voice, before he took an audible breath. “I’ll explain everything in person.” His tone was measured.
Demi’s spine snapped straight in annoyance. “I told you. I’m not flying off to—”
“Two men dressed in Navy whites are headed to your door.” Aiden barreled over her comment, his voice tightening. “They’re not with the Navy. They’re not from ST7. They’re not who they will claim to be. They’ll probably tell you I’m hurt, or dead.”
Startled, she pulled the phone away to look at it, which was ridiculous. The blank screen wouldn’t tell her if he was joking. “Why would they tell me you’re hurt? Or dead?” She paused, her brow furrowing. He obviously wasn’t dead. But… “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. They’ll try to grab you and use you to flush me out.” Aiden’s voice went faint for a moment, as though he turned away from the phone. “You need to distract them. Delay them, but without setting them off. Keep them busy until Tag and Tram get to you. Pretend to believe everything they tell you. Don’t push them. If they get antagonistic, then do whatever they say.”
Her stomach tightened. “What’s going on, Aiden?” Her voice rose. “Why are these people trying to flush you out?”
How much danger was he in?
How much danger was she in?
A beat of silence fell, and then he sighed. His slow exhale sounded weary, almost morose.
“The last op my squad was sent on was a setup,” he said quietly. “I’m the only one of my team to survive. Now the bastards behind my crew’s murder want to chat with me. Find out why I survived. They’ll try to use you to get to me.”
Demi’s heart stuttered as horror gripped her. He’d lost his entire team? That couldn’t be right. “Squirrel? Grub? Lur—”
“Dead. All dead.” His devastation showed in his voice. The blank emptiness of it.
She choked back her sympathy. He obviously didn’t want to talk about his loss. “Who set you up?”
“That’s unclear.” His tone tightened. “We don’t have time for twenty questions. They’ll be knocking on your door any minute.”
Which just reminded her of another question.
“How do you know they’re on their way up to my door?” Maybe he was wrong, overreacting or something—although she’d never known Aiden to overreact.
“They were sighted going into your building.” Another beat of silence, followed by the most measured tone of voice yet, as though he knew she wouldn’t like what he was about to say. “I’ve had eyes on you for the last four days. But someone reported my surveillance team to the cops and got them locked down. The point guy got a message to Tag before the whole fucking lot of them were rounded up by COPD.”
The first part of that announcement hit hard. So hard, she barely heard the second part.
“You’ve what ?” She rocked back on her heels, her jaw dropping in shock. “You have someone watching me?”
“Yes.” He sounded impatient again. “To protect you. To keep you safe in case the bastards showed up at your door before I could get down to Coronado and protect you. When you wouldn’t answer my calls, I hired Forged Security to keep an eye on you. Tag and Tram have the vampire shift, so they weren’t caught in the COPD round-up.”
That’s why he’d been so persistent in calling her? To warn her? A commanding knock on the front door of her condo ruptured her indignation. She froze.
“Was Tag going to come up and get me?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“No.” He didn’t sound surprised by the question.
“Someone’s knocking on my door,” she said directly into the phone mic, keeping her voice low.
“Answer it. Pretend to believe whatever they tell you. Distract them as long as you can.” He paused, his voice turning gritty. “Baby, I will get you out of this, but our best odds of getting you clear of those bastards is to wait until Tag and Tram arrive.”
“What if I don’t answer the door? Maybe they’ll go away.”
His voice gentled. “They aren’t going away, sweetheart.”
“But if I don’t answer, maybe they’ll think I’m not home.”
“They’ll pick the lock and let themselves into your condo.”
“I could hide.” Demi offered in a small voice, her mind racing to find a solution.
She did not want to answer that door. She did not want to have to distract them without alerting them to the fact she knew what they were up to. She’d never been much of an actress, which had never been a big deal in her life. She’d always found that honesty served her better. Until now. This was the first time her terrible acting skills could get her in trouble.
Another commanding knock hit the door, followed by a voice. “Demelda Barnes? We need to speak with you.”
Demi’s mouth went dry. “Will you stay on the line with me?”
“I can’t.” His voice was so gentle it made her want to cry. “We have fifteen seconds before a high intensity electronic jammer hits your building. Once it hits, cell phones won’t work.”
“ What? ” Her voice rose. He was taking away her only means of communication?
“Yeah. I’m sorry, but we can’t chance anyone warning those bastards that Tag and Tram are on the way. Trust me, babe—I’ve got you—”
The phone suddenly went dead. She was not a tech expert, but it was clear the jammer Aiden had mentioned was at work. She stood there, her hand clenching the phone, as more thuds struck her door. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears.
After a moment of heavy, panicked breathing, she squared her shoulders and methodically set the phone on the counter. Aiden had promised he’d get her out of this situation. He’d never lied to her. Men he trusted were on their way. She took a deep, even breath. She’d met Tag and Tram enough times to trust them, too. Enough times to know they’d sacrifice their lives without hesitation to keep her safe.
The thought soured her stomach and shook her hands. It took enormous effort to force her shaky legs to step toward the door.
You can do this, Demi. Breathe. Keep your fear hidden and your mind alert.
You can do this. Piece of cake.
Too bad the quick pep talk did nothing to calm the urgent slam of her heart, or the rising tide of fear.