Chapter Sixteen
John
The cait sidhe made an error when she called her guards and demanded they lock me up.
The same young shifters who’d escorted me into the house had led me down a hall, shoving me into a room on the main floor.
Before they could shut the door, I told them to sit and to stay.
They did, and when I asked for the key, the one with a chin like a rat told me all the locks worked by scanning their irises.
I make good use of that information, silently exploring the house, identifying locked rooms, and looking for anyone who shouldn’t be there. The diamond had to be in one of those locked rooms, so when we came back for it, I’d know where to go first.
As expected, most everyone was asleep or dead for the day, and I managed to avoid those who were awake, leaving the building without getting caught.
At least until I get outside.
I take the same side door through which I’d left the night of the party. This time, instead of an empty path, I come face-to-face with the heavyset bodyguard with greying hair. He stands some four feet from me, matching my expression of surprise.
“The fuck?” He’s apparently unarmed, or at least he doesn’t bring out a weapon. Instead, he drops into a fighting stance; legs spread, knees bent, arms raised.
“Sit down, please,” I say, keeping my voice pleasant while larding in as much command as possible.
He flinches without changing his posture, a grin spreading across his face. “Fuck off.”
Interesting. I’m going to have to fight him. Nostrils flaring, I mirror his posture. I’ve got several inches on him and a much longer reach. If he’s smart, he’ll simply cry out, raise some kind of alarm to bring in backup. For some reason, he doesn’t.
Overconfidence seems to be a common trait for Prince and his team.
I growl at him, baring my teeth, and in that moment, I feel more alive than I have in years.
Bouncing on his toes, he comes at me, poking in my direction with his right hand. I block one of his punches and he follows with a round-house kick, catching my shoulder in a glancing blow.
I back up a step and allow him to come at me again. Another blocked punch, one that catches my chin. He’s faster than I expect for a mundane, and he sends up another kick that I’m just able to dance away from.
I get in a blow, maybe two, and when he aims another kick my way, I grab his ankle and jerk.
He goes down with a deep oof.
This is when he should be raising the alarm. Instead, his eyes slide shut and his mouth goes slack.
What the hell?
Aware that he could be faking, I approach slowly, kicking his foot to see if he responds. He does not. I move closer, nudging his arm with my toe.
Nothing.
I go down on one knee, wondering what the hell to do with him. Surely he’ll be missed and just as surely he didn’t fight me for the pure love of sport. Deciding not to question my good fortune, I move on to the more important issue.
My choices are to kill him and hide the body, try to hide him while he’s still unconscious, or leave him here.
Hiding him—alive—seems like the best choice.
Where? I go down the path a few feet and come across a small sitting area surrounded by those thick shrubs Marcus called California holly.
I drag the man there and prop him in one of the Adirondack chairs, still breathing, still unconscious, his head lolling against the wooden slats.
Adrenaline buzzes through me as I move away from the house and cross the drive, relying on the profusion of shrubs to provide me with concealment.
I keep going until I reach a covered patio in front of the guest house.
The road isn’t far, and once I’m off the property, I can find my way to South Pasadena.
A pair of security guards approach, so I hunker down in the shadow of a prickly holly bush. They’re wearing the same black uniform as the others and carrying the same threatening firearms, but without a crow to alert them, they pass me by.
I’m feeling for bruises from the fight and planning my next move when something drops to the ground in front of me, making a quiet tap I might have missed if I hadn’t had all my senses on alert.
A small pebble, perhaps? Thrown by whom?
My heart, which had barely settled from the excitement of the fight, ratchets up its rhythm.
I look wildly around. The sun is low in the sky, its fading rays giving the air an amber quality. Beyond the steadily crashing waves and the wind rattling the leaves, all is quiet. No one is near. I don’t know what fell and can only hope it isn’t something dangerous.
“John?” One word, barely on the edge of my hearing.
Startled, I inhale sharply. “What? Nasir?” I ask, too loudly.
“Are you alone?”
I scan the ground for the source of his voice. There’s a small black ball, no larger than a grape, that stands out against the dun-colored cement. One of his toys, maybe.
“I’m on a patio by the guest house.” I pitch my voice barely above a whisper.
“We’ll find you. It’s time to do the job.”
Do the job? My mind leaps at the possibilities. “Careful. Watch for the armed guards.”
“Thanks.”
Moving quickly, I pick up the small black device and retreat into the shadows. I use the time to take stock of what I’ve learned so I’m ready when the others reach me.
“Shit.”
A strange voice. Footsteps on grass. I crouch behind the counter, angling myself so I can see most of the court. I can’t go into the guesthouse because the doors are locked with those iris scanners. The guards come into view, one looking at his phone and muttering.
“What’s wrong?” his friend asks. This one has long, ginger hair and is built for a fight.
The other guard, the one with the phone, is slighter. “No one could find Peters and Moroni till they looked into the room where that tall dude was supposed to be locked up.”
The big one shifts what appears to be a rifle with an elaborate viewfinder from one arm to the other. “They were locked up with our visitor?”
“Nope.” He bites out the word. “The tall guy was gone.”
“Fuck.” He glances around with a lot more determination than on his previous passes.
“Murphy’s MIA too.”
“Makes sense,” the big guy mutters. “Either Murph’s dead or they’re working together.”
The guard with the phone pauses, a quizzical look on his face. “You think Murphy would do that?”
The big guy gives a bitter laugh. “You haven’t been working for vampires long enough if you don’t think he could.”
That makes his partner angry. He pockets his phone and snarls, “Then let’s find them both.”
My muscles tighten and my breath is drawn tight by the crisp edge of fear. I’m not so well hidden that they won’t see me if they truly look. The door is immediately to my left. I plan who I’m going to hit first if they come this way. How many of their bullets I can take before they disable me?
Unlike my fight with the bodyguard, this time I don’t feel alive. I feel angry. As stupid as it sounds, I need to know more of Marcus, both his body and his heart, before I die.
You should have let him kiss you goodbye.
“Let’s head over to the house and work our way out,” the big guy says. They keep walking, and I slowly draw in a breath, grateful they made the least rational decision possible. At this point, I will take grace where I find it.
When my friends arrive, they’re much quieter, sliding onto the patio like shadows.
Rob reaches me first and gives me a thorough once-over, as if reassuring himself I’ve suffered no harm.
Behind him, Nasir carries a black case of a size that could hold one of the security guards’ automatic weapons.
Will follows, clutching a leather briefcase that somehow looks more deadly for all its smaller size, and Sonny brings up the rear, arms free.
He’s wearing dark sunglasses, a hood pulled low, and gloves.
We settle into one of the seating areas, Nasir dragging over a fifth chair and angling it so he can keep watchs.
“What can you tell us?” Rob asks.
I give them a quick summary of what I’ve learned: the cait sidhe, the iris scanners, the locked rooms, the guards.
“It’s difficult to judge the age of a sleeping person, but I believe I found a handful of young people.
Too young. I let them sleep until we all go in.
” The words leave my mouth dry, though no one else looks unduly dismayed.
“We should get inside here,” Nasir says. He opens his case and places some kind of black monocle over one eye. “Keep an eye out for the security patrol.”
He goes to the door and stares for a long moment. The light flashes red and stops. Stepping aside, he takes off the monocle and adjusts something, then tries again. This time, after five red flashes, the light turns green and he opens the door.
“Inside,” he says. “Quickly. The system might log my first attempt, which could bring us unwanted company.”
We scuttle in, Sonny pulling off his glasses and gloves as soon as he’s out of the sun’s glare. Unlike the main house, this place has an air of disuse. Clean, with plush upholstered furniture and a few, impersonal nick-nacks that do little to give it soul.
There aren’t as many windows as in the main house, yet we still position ourselves to avoid them, sitting on cushions on the floor in one of the bedrooms. Will and Sonny have their backs against the dressers while the rest of us lean against the bed.
“This is going to challenge us,” Rob says, rocking his head against the edge of the mattress. “The house is large, and there are at least twenty people in there—vampires, shifters, some of them armed. There are three possible locations of the diamond not including Prince’s private suite.”
Rob rubs his face with the palm of his hand. He looks tired, more so than usual, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair breaking free of its band.