Chapter 13 #2
“Donald seemed convinced. I told him to keep digging, but if he keeps asking questions, it will get back to Nazaire. What about you? Did Nazaire’s rep show up?”
“He did, and we were just about to discuss terms. You want me to abort?”
“No, that’s why I called. Bring the guy back to Lilith Island.
Let Nazaire wonder what the hell happened.
I’m tired of dancing with the motherfucker.
I want him rattled. Even if he didn’t stake my mother, he’s out there arranging to have you kidnapped—or thinks he is, anyway.
Not to mention that whole shitshow with Eden. ”
“Will do.”
“And Cain? We’ll get what we can out of this dude—and then we’re going hunting.”
A smile curled my mouth. “About damn time.”
It wasn’t until my phone was back in my pocket that I realized what this meant to Nyx. If we went after her father, she could get caught in the crossfire. And I couldn’t let that happen.
So I’d get her out first. Even if I had to fucking drag her out of there. I’d act first, explain later.
Because protecting her wasn’t optional. It was instinct, something I’d have to think long and hard about when I got back tonight.
Outside, fat white flakes had started to fall, turning the parking lot into a snow globe.
Booted footprints in the fresh white stuff circled around the side of the building.
I removed the cuffs from their leather bag, careful to handle them by the plastic-coated outside so the silver wouldn’t sear my flesh, and returned them to my pocket.
Then I followed the prints to the alley behind the bar.
The QCS man leaned against the concrete wall, the single bulb over the backdoor illuminating half his face. His skin and eyes gleamed in the dim light, confirming he was a supernatural. A dhampir, if I had to guess.
“Talk.” He straightened from the wall. “Explain how you think this would go down.”
“Show me the money first,” I returned because that’s what Baker would’ve said.
“You get nothing until I’m sure you can deliver.”
“A downpayment, then.” I moved closer. “You syndicate bastards are rich. You can afford it.”
“We’ll pay when—” He never finished the sentence because I was on him, spinning him to face the wall and snapping the cuffs on his wrists from behind before he could react.
The tiny spikes on the cuffs slid out, digging into his skin.
An invention of mine to increase the pain and deliver the poisonous silver directly into the bloodstream.
He hissed and arched his back—and slammed the heel of his heavy boot at my instep. I jerked my foot away just in time.
A whisper of sound made me throw myself to the side. A silver dagger grazed my shoulder and hit the wall between me and my captive.
I spun around to find Jerome coming at me with a dagger that was a twin of the first. I snatched up the first dagger as it hit the snowy asphalt and dove left, hitting the pavement in a roll and springing back to my feet.
The other vampire’s eyes widened. Clearly, he’d expected a human.
Surprise, mofo.
Dropping my glamour, I bared my fangs and lunged at him with his own dagger. He parried my thrust, and we went at it, hard and dirty. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the skinny dude edging along the wall, hunched forward, cuffed hands stuck out awkwardly behind him. He was going to escape.
I snarled. This had to end now. But Jerome was good. Every strike I threw, he met with equal force, his own blows fast, practiced, controlled. He wasn’t just fighting; he was moving with the kind of precision that came from knowing exactly how close death was and refusing to blink.
Then his boot hit ice.
He cursed, arms flailing as he fought to keep his balance.
I lunged, slamming him into the concrete wall, and drove the dagger into his chest. The silver bit into his heart. A raw groan tore out of him, but even then he wasn’t finished. His arm jerked in a last, desperate strike meant to punch through my ribs and find my own heart.
I felt the impact, but the point snagged in the leather jacket.
I wrenched the dagger from his hand, then tore the other from his chest. Blood sprayed and I jumped back as a dark, magical fire ignited, licking through his veins. Smoke poured from his eyes, and blood dribbled from his mouth.
He slid down the wall, crumpling into the snow. A beat passed. Then black-edged flames burst out of the open wound in his chest.
Behind me, boots crunched in the snow. I whipped around in time to catch the guy I’d cuffed lurch around a corner, doubled over. I sprinted after him.
He skidded left and veered into the nearest backyard, but I was faster. I caught his upper arm, jerking him to a halt. He let out a low, despairing sound and tried again to jam his heel into my instep.
“Enough.” I swung him around and frog-marched him back into the alley.
Behind the bar, I shoved him into a corner and patted him down, turning up a silver switchblade, a phone and a rental car remote.
I kept the blade and tossed the remote into the snow.
The phone I stowed in a pocket before grabbing his upper arm again and pulling him around the bar toward the parking lot.
He wrenched his arm from my grip and tried to take off.
I grabbed him by the back of his collar and hauled him back, my switchblade to his throat. “Listen, you bastard. Stay put or I’ll slit you open like a trout.” I’d lost the gruff Wayne-Baker voice.
The man’s nostrils flared. “Cain?” he breathed.
He twisted his head, straining to see me. His glamour wavered, and I was staring into Nyx Nazaire’s wide hazel eyes, a diamond winking in her left nostril.
Son of a motherless goat.
That’s why he—no, she—smelled familiar.
The glamour dropped, leaving her in the outfit from the bar, her soft red curls tumbling down her back. I lifted the switchblade from her throat and yanked her around to face me.
We stared at each other as the snow fell around us.
“You?” I gritted. “You’re part of this?”
She’d come here to negotiate with Baker. To have me kidnapped. Delivered to her father like a gift.
She hadn’t even tried to warn me.
A dull ache opened in my chest. So much for wanting her. So much for much for my thrice-damned protective instincts.
Gods, I was an ass. Baker had been right after all. I was a weak excuse for a man, too blind to see she’d been playing me all along.
“Cain.” She licked her lips. “I—I can explain…”
I bet you can.
My body unlocked from its stunned posture, cold fury pouring into the dull ache like fuel on a slow burn. I snapped the switchblade shut and shoved it into my pocket.
“Call me Lieutenant,” I said through my teeth, and started for the truck again, dragging her with me.