Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Sloane slipped out from beneath his consort’s arms and the warmth of the covers. It nearly killed him to do it, but he had no choice.
Standing by the bed, he leaned down to pull the blankets over her slim shoulders.
He arranged them with painstaking care, delaying the inevitability of his exit, before he forced his feet to move.
Grabbing his boots off the floor and his bundle of clothing, he left the bedroom without a sound.
He only felt a small twinge of discomfort when he engaged the lock on the door.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. He did. Mostly. But the lock would work to keep out anyone just as well as it worked to keep her in. That was a small amount of assurance for him and his raging instincts.
Very small.
It would have to be enough. He had work to do.
Sloane dressed quickly. Logically, he knew nothing had changed about his kit.
It was identical to every other one he owned.
And yet somehow it still felt different on his skin after what they’d done together.
Maybe his skin was different. Maybe everything about him was different now that he knew what pleasure truly was — Cecilia’s hands on him.
Whatever the case, it grated against the very fabric of his being to leave her sleeping in her— their bed, unprotected and unaware.
His stomach soured with every step he took toward the garage, and a cold sweat gathered beneath his helmet.
Everything in him rebelled at the idea of leaving his mate.
Sloane was well-trained in pushing aside any discomfort or pain to continue a mission, but this was worse than anything he’d experienced before.
It felt like it took hours for him to make it to one of his unmarked cars. It took longer for him to actually start the damn thing.
Nausea rolled through him, but he braced himself and hit the ignition. Protecting her came first. It came before his comfort, certainly, and definitely his own safety.
Sloane knew he was taking a risk when he drove back into San Francisco in the dead of night.
He knew how to avoid the web of cameras and surveillance that blanketed the city, but his team also knew every trick he possessed.
If they were hunting him, which they almost certainly were, then every system in place would be on alert for him specifically.
It was a risk he had to take.
Luckily The Lush was on the opposite end of the city from the barracks.
Stepping into the alley where he’d seen Cecilia for the first time — and hundreds of times since — he didn’t bother checking for cameras above the employee exit.
With the kind of business Duke ran, they knew better than to have recording equipment around.
All it took was a sharp jerk of his gloved hand to break the lock on the door. The bar had closed for the final hours of the night, allowing vampires plenty of time to get home without being roasted and giving him the perfect opportunity for recon.
It wasn’t the first time he’d broken in, but it was the only time he’d done so with a purpose beyond rifling around in Cecilia’s locker.
Navigating the dark warren of employee spaces and private VIP rooms, Sloane found his way into what could only be the boss’s office.
Ignoring the ridiculous patent leather wall furnishings and chrome mini bar stocked with alcoholic synth, he made his way to the glass desk strewn with receipts, half-smoked cigarettes, and thankfully unused packets of condoms.
From all appearances, it didn’t seem like The Lush was hurting without its boss. Going by the state of the desk, that was probably due to the competence of its managers and not anything Duke did before his death.
It was impossible to say whether anyone had noticed the man’s absence yet, but Sloane intended to clean up any loose ends regardless.
It only took a few minutes to find a piece of paperwork in the desk with Duke’s address on it. Tucking it into his pocket, he went back the way he came.
As he wound his way back through the employee corridors, he looked around and tried to imagine his doe wandering the halls every night.
Since that time in her life had passed, Sloane made sure to make a pit stop at her locker to collect the twelve lip glosses, spare pair of shoes, and stain remover stick she kept in there.
It was a relief knowing Cecilia would never be back working among hungry vampires. Obviously it was better for her safety, but it was also because he knew it wasn’t what she wanted to be doing. His consort should’ve been teaching young, not passing out synth in painful-looking shoes.
How can she do that if we go on the run?
Another problem to solve. Sloane ground his fangs together, sharpening their already deadly points, as he slipped out the alley door. Keeping to the shadows to avoid the traffic cameras that monitored the m-grid, he ducked into the driver’s seat and set off for the bastard’s townhouse.
It was a short drive to a trendy neighborhood full of gutted and grimly painted homes.
Duke’s home was all shades of gray, with ugly modern finishes that he was certain Cecilia would’ve sneered at.
Figuring that the vampire would have at least half-decent security in place, he parked down the street and used a neighbor’s unsecured backyard gate to access the narrow alley that ran behind the homes.
Leaping over the tall iron fence into Duke’s backyard was as easy as breathing.
So was bypassing the security on the back door.
No alarm sounded when he strode into the vampire’s unused kitchen.
Whatever Duke did for the vampire syndicate, he wasn’t high up enough to have his own private guards, either, making the entire process laughably easy.
The home was just as tacky on the inside as it was on the outside. If there was such a thing as the exact opposite of Cecilia’s warmth and comfort, it was the chrome, cold light, and black granite of Duke’s crime den.
Sloane doubted he would’ve noticed anything like that before, but Cecilia had changed more than just the chemical composition of his body. She’d made him see things he never would’ve before.
But his appreciation for soft carpet, warm light, and long dark hair tangled over his pillows didn’t wipe out decades of training. It took only a matter of minutes to find the vampire’s various caches of weapons, drugs, and cash. Accessing his various devices took only slightly longer.
Duke wasn’t smart enough to turn off mirroring on his devices, which meant that once Sloane got past the password protection, he was able to see everything.
Multiple phones, multiple accounts, multiple illegal businesses. He found them all, alongside every other sordid secret the man saved in his digital spaces. A network of associates sprawled before him, each one a potential threat to the woman sleeping peacefully in his bed.
There were other things, too.
Sloane stared at the images on the screen for several long moments, considering the best course of action. He’d never had use for allies before, and he certainly didn’t trade in favors, but he was adaptable.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he dialed the most recently called number.
A woman’s voice came through the line in his helmet. “Cece? Girl, if you hang up on me again—”
“This isn’t Cece,” he said, claws drumming on the smudged glass of the desk. “This is her mate.”
To her credit, Dahlia didn’t immediately launch into questions. She paused for a beat before she drawled, “…You must be the friend she mentioned.”
Hackles raising at the slight mocking edge in the woman’s voice, he insisted, “Her mate.”
“No offense, weirdo, but until she tells me that with her own mouth, I’m still calling you a friend.”
“Understood,” he grated, “but irrelevant. I need to speak to your criminal mate.”
“Excuse me?”
Growing impatient, he pressed, “Felix Amauri. Head of the Amauri crime family, responsible for underground gambling dens, arms trading, and illegal smuggling across territory borders. Sanctioned the hit that killed Yvanna Amauri—”
“Wow, can you not list a dozen things that might get my husband thrown in prison, please?” Dahlia’s voice had lost what little good humor it possessed. Her tone sharpened with warning when she demanded, “Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m Cece’s mate,” he reminded her. “And I need to speak to Felix about a possible threat to you.”
“What on—”
“I don’t have time for this. I have information on Duke’s associates who appear to be actively surveilling you and your family. Do you or do you not want this information?”
There was a brief pause. “Hold on.”
Checking the time, Sloane ground his teeth.
He needed to be out of the city before sunrise, and every minute that dragged by away from Cecilia made his physical discomfort worse.
He imagined it was something like withdrawal.
Despite his helmet’s filter, he’d still been exposed to her pheromones enough that the Pull clawed at him, little by little, until there was no part of him untouched by desire.
And he just… missed her.
Just when he was beginning to debate giving up on helping Dahlia and her criminal, the sound of a door opening came through the line.
“Felix,” Dahlia hissed, “we have a situation.”
“What’s wrong?” That was undoubtedly Felix.
Speaking closer to the phone, Dahlia informed him, “I’m putting you on speaker, friend. Felix, this is Cecilia’s—”
“Mate,” Sloane cut in, a deep, elvish growl in his voice. “I’m her mate.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure about that one,” she continued, apparently unbothered by the clear warning. “But he’s claiming he has information on a threat and he wants to talk to you.”
Felix’s voice got closer. “You the guy that killed Duke?”
Sloane flexed his claws. “Yes.”
“Did he die badly?”
A grim smile curled his lips. “Yes.”
Felix chuckled. “Good work.”
“I’m aware.”
The vampire made a thoughtful sound. Speaking in a deceptively pleasant voice, he asked, “Do I get to know your name, killer? Since we’re apparently family and all.”
“We are not family,” Sloane corrected him.
Dahlia snapped, “Listen, weirdo: if you’re claiming you’re my best friend’s husband, then you better fucking believe we’re family. Cece is the closest thing to a sister I have and I’ll break every bone in your fucking body if you—”
“Cece already informed me of the consequences of harming her,” he broke in impatiently. “The only reason I’m calling is to protect her and by extension you. And the only reason I’m discussing this with a criminal is because you have ties to the threat and can more effectively eliminate them.”
Felix’s tone changed from pleasant to businesslike in an instant. “I’m listening.”
Sloane clicked through the surveillance photos on the screen.
“You’re being watched by one of Duke’s associates.
He was dispatched from here to track Dahlia and await further orders.
He appeared to be Duke’s right hand man, but as of his last messages does not seem to know that his boss is missing. ”
“What happened with Cece?” Dahlia demanded. “If he sent someone to watch us and you felt the need to kill him, it must’ve been bad. Tell me what happened.”
He didn’t respond right away. Sloane had to weigh whether Cecilia would be upset or not before he eventually decided it was worth the risk.
“Duke and two other vampires followed her home, broke in, threatened her, and beat her. Duke claimed he was owed compensation for the death of his brother and that taking Cece’s life was an even exchange.
Obviously, I eliminated them, but I need to be sure that no one — this associate included — will seek retribution. ”
Two sharp intakes of air came through the line. Dahlia’s voice seemed a little farther away when she breathed, “Oh gods, I’m gonna throw up. No wonder she didn’t want to tell me. Felix—”
Muttering, her vampire soothed, “She’s okay. You talked to her, remember?”
Some foreign thing in Sloane that felt suspiciously close to compassion compelled him to add, “She’s safe with me now.”
“You take care of Cece,” Felix said, “and we’ll handle Duke’s man. Send me everything you have.”
“There are others in United Washington who should be investigated,” he pressed.
“Consider it done.”
“Good.” Sloane swallowed years of training and his own natural reticence with considerable difficulty. “And Dahlia…”
She let out an impatient sound that reminded him so much of Cecilia, it startled him. “Yes?”
Quickly extracting a memory card from the computer, he bit out, “My name is Sloane.”
“Sloane, huh?” She huffed. “Well, Sloane, I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
He stood up from the desk. “Heard. I’ll keep you up to date with any developments that concern you.”
“You’re a military man, aren’t you, killer?” Felix asked.
“No,” he answered, tucking the memory card into his pocket. “I’m Cecilia’s mate. That’s all you need to know.”
Mission accomplished, he ended the call. He’d barely taken a few steps into the hallway outside the office when the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.