Chapter 16 #2
Winter winked at him and then turned to face his brother’s smug expression. “I think I spotted your contact. I’m assuming he knows you brought company.”
“He knows I brought my bratty brother and his new chew toy along,” Rafe grumbled.
Winter and Fox exchanged a look, smiling even wider at each other. Fox could deal with being called a chew toy if Winter got the description of bratty.
Before anyone could reply, there was a soft scrape on the concrete like the scuff of a shoe.
Both Winter and Rafe instantly reacted, shifting so that they were shielding Fox with their bodies.
Fox leaned one way and then the other until he could finally see between the two vampires to spot the hunched figure as he shuffled slowly down the sidewalk in ragged clothes.
“Breathe, guys,” Fox chuckled. “I think he’s just a homeless guy.”
“Vampire,” Winter whispered, which shocked the hell out of Fox. He was accustomed to seeing vampires in nice clothes. Even when Winter was casual in his jeans and hoodie, it was still nice quality.
“That’s our guy,” Rafe murmured. He relaxed his posture and stepped away from Fox a little, but Winter remained where he was, his body stiff and sort of puffed like an angry rooster.
His protectiveness made Fox want to kiss him, but it was probably a bad time for all that.
He’d have to wait until they were at the loft.
“Come along, Edgar. We don’t have all night,” Rafe said irritably.
“I’m going out on a limb for you Variks,” the other vampire grumbled.
“And you’ve been well compensated for all your limbs,” Rafe shot back.
Edgar stopped several feet away from the SUV, his stance still a little bent, definitely wary of them.
His dark eyes darted around as if he were expecting to be jumped at any second.
His twitchiness certainly wasn’t helping to settle Winter.
Fox carefully squeezed Winter’s arm before moving beside his vampire so he could more clearly see the newcomer.
“Do you have anything useful for us?” Winter asked.
Edgar frowned at Winter, then looked over at Rafe.
The posh vampire shrugged, appearing bored by everything that was happening, but Fox wasn’t fooled.
Those bright-blue eyes saw everything, cataloguing every movement and expression.
Fox’s conversation with Rafe proved Winter’s annoying older brother saw far more than anyone might expect.
“You wanted to know about this prophecy that’s got Damon all worked up?” Edgar started. “I got the exact wording for you.”
“Excellent,” Rafe purred.
“Go west to the mountains.
Find the fleet-footed Fox with the magical touch.
The fiery witch will disarm the brothers
And free the lost king,” Edgar recited.
Fox swallowed hard as a cold chill swept over his body.
He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t such an apt description.
When Damon’s men had found him, he’d been living in the west, just outside of Denver near the Rocky Mountains.
He was named Fox, and his magical touch allowed him to break locks.
And well, he’d been called fiery more than once because of his hair and temper. Fuck.
Just…fuck.
He was afraid to look over at Winter and face whatever he was thinking, so he was more than a little surprised when Winter laced his fingers with Fox’s. Jerking his head up, he looked into Winter’s concerned gaze, a reassuring smile on his lips.
“Well, that’s just not helpful at all,” Rafe complained. “Are you sure that’s it?”
“If you’re not going to believe what I tell you when I’m risking my neck for this shit, there’s no reason for us to do business,” Edgar snapped. “I got it straight from one of Damon’s guys and trust me, he ain’t gonna be talking to anyone else about it.”
Fox winced. That was a lovely thought.
“Do you have any information on Damon’s soldiers moving around Hartford?” Winter asked.
Edgar shook his head. “Not much. His bitch Paavo Wetzel has ordered his number-one, Luke-something-or-other, to remain in Hartford to find all of you as well as some witch. I’m guessing this Fox the prophecy mentions.”
Rafe turned to frown at Winter. “What the hell is all that about a lost king? And ‘disarm the brothers’? That’s what’s got Damon all worked up? It’s utter nonsense.”
“I—”
Whatever Winter had been about to say was cut off with the sharp squeal of tires on asphalt.
A silver sports car roared around the corner and down the street toward them.
As the passenger-side window descended, Winter wrapped his arms around Fox and shouted, “Down!” while shoving Fox toward the sidewalk.
Fox barely caught a glimpse of Rafe throwing his body into Edgar and pressing them both into the sidewalk.
Automatic gunfire split the silent night air and bullets pinged off the sides of buildings and buried into the sides of Winter’s and Rafe’s cars.
He thought he heard Rafe swearing under the noise, but Fox couldn’t be sure.
He pressed as close as he could to Winter, fear and adrenaline scorching a path straight to his heart so that it was beating hard enough to break out of his chest.
The car passed them in a couple of seconds, and the gunfire stopped as it raced away. Winter instantly released Fox and climbed back to his feet, pulling Fox up with him. Rafe was already moving with Edgar as well.
“Get to your car before they can make another pass! Get out of here!” Winter shouted. He pushed Fox toward the open SUV door, getting him into the relative safety of the vehicle.
“Protect him!” Rafe snarled. “I’ll lead our new friends on a merry chase.”
Fox stared at Winter as he seemed to hesitate for the first time since they’d been spotted by Damon’s men.
Fox had to wonder if they realized that the prophecy witch was with them or if the idiots were simply reacting to seeing Variks out in the wild.
He was more inclined to believe they hadn’t realized he was with them.
Damon surely wanted to get him back safe and sound so he could complete his part of the prophecy.
“Be careful,” Winter ordered and then ran around to the driver’s side to jump behind the wheel.
They tore away from the curb in a squeal of tires and the smell of burnt rubber.
Winter surged in the opposite direction of their attackers while Rafe’s sleek sports car plunged after them with a terrified-looking Edgar in the passenger seat.
Winter deftly wove them through the streets of Hartford, far from the loft for nearly an hour, before he finally turned the SUV toward home.
Except it wasn’t home. So much of that damn prophecy didn’t make sense, but there was one thing Fox couldn’t argue.
Damon had grabbed the right witch. That meant his nights with Winter were numbered.
The Variks would have to kill him to protect their family, and Fox was so not ready to lose Winter.