Dee’s number one rule. Yeah, he knew it. That was why he was there. “She left the crime scene. We’ve got hair samples that I’m sure will match her.” Had to match, everything else was so nice and neat. Like it had been gift wrapped for him. “Her leaving…man, that doesn’t look good.”
Pak glanced up at him. Those eyes were as dark as a demon’s. Well, when a demon let the glamour drop anyway. “We’re not sure Dee left willingly.”
What?
With steady fingers, Pak placed the file on top of his perfectly arranged desk. “There’s been no contact from Dee since she was last seen by Zane on the mission. Her car is still at the bar. She hasn’t gone back to her house. She’s made no attempt to contact the agency.”
His stomach knotted. “Is she alive?”
One shoulder lifted. “At this point, I can’t say for certain.” A pause. “I can say that Dee would never kill a human.”
Not intentionally, anyway. “What if things got away from her? What if there was an attack and she was fighting the vampires and the woman—the woman attacked her, too?” Made sense. He’d sure been over all the different scenarios a dozen times. Trying to find a reason, an excuse. “She would have acted to defend herself. She would have—”
“She wouldn’t have left on her own. If that’s the way it went down, she would have stayed, waited for the cops.”
True. That was the way Dee worked. Or so he’d thought. “You’re looking for her,” Antonio said, statement, not question.
A nod.
“We’ve got to be careful with this, very careful.” The wrong word, the wrong ear to hear it, and the town would explode. “The vic, she was the niece of Craig Durant—the senator. He’s already been calling the PD, talking to the DA.” He shook his head. “This case won’t disappear easily.” If at all.
No expression crossed Pak’s face. “Thank you for coming to me with this information. I’ll remember how helpful you were to me.”
“Yeah, right.” He ran a hand over his face. His eyes were so grainy they hurt. “When my ass gets tossed off the force for sharing confidential info, I just hope you have a job for me.” He turned away, marching for the door.
“Don’t worry.” Pak’s soft voice. “I will.”
Pak waited for the cop to leave. A good guy, if too grounded in human ways.
He glanced at the manila file, then picked up his cell phone. Dee’s number was one of the few automatically programmed in the phone because she was one of the few who mattered to him.
The text message was short. Simple.
Don’t come in. Cops are hunting you.
Dee wouldn’t go to jail. He’d never let that happen.
Stick to the case. Kill the Born Bastard.
Before the Born succeeded in killing her.
“Why didn’t they kill me?” Dee asked as the first rays of dawn began to appear on the horizon.
Dawn. Her favorite time. She loved it when the light kicked night’s ass across the sky.
Simon sat next to her. They were on his back porch. Small, compact. Two old rocking chairs that reminded her too much of her past.
At her question, he turned to her and his eyes seemed shuttered. “Why do you think you’re still breathing?”
“Don’t know.” She wouldn’t have asked the question if she knew. What was this, some kind of Freud crap? “They’re setting me up, and—”
Her pocket vibrated. No, her phone. She’d jerked on her jeans earlier, knotted Simon’s shirt at her waist, and tried to feel normal. She’d even found her phone, checked the battery, and thought about calling Pak.
She’d also realized that if the vamps were truly setting her up, he might be ass-deep in cops. So she’d waited.
Protocol for an agent in trouble was to wait, stay low for twenty-four hours, then seek contact.
Unless a superior from Night Watch contacted first.
She pulled out her phone. Punched the buttons until she saw her text, then her breath whistled out. “Damn.”
Simon rose. “Trouble?”
Of course. Like good tidings followed her. Dee licked her lips and glanced up at him. “Can I…” Yeah, his gaze had definitely heated with the swipe of her tongue. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. “Can I stay with you? Just for a day or two?”
His gaze was still on her mouth. “I already said you could. Stay as long as you want.” The words were a dark rumble.
Oh, they would so be getting into bed soon. Her head was better now. The swelling had eased. No more black spots danced before her eyes.
Simon had pushed for a visit to the hospital, but she hadn’t wanted to risk that.
Vamps loved hanging out in hospitals. Talk about free and easy access to a blood supply.
If she’d had double vision, if she’d passed out, if she’d vomited on Simon’s sexy self, then, yeah, she would have found a doctor.
But it looked like she’d pull through.
And that she’d get to jump Simon soon.
“You keep saving me,” she told him. Weird. Usually, she did the saving. The protecting. She wasn’t quite sure how to act with him. But twice, twice, he’d saved her butt from the flames.
“You’ll do the same for me.” Absolute certainty.
Her eyes narrowed. That phrasing…it was off. Not, you’d do the same, but you’ll do. She forced a laugh. “Don’t worry. I always pay my debts. In fact, I—”
He caught her arms. “We need to go inside.”
His hold seemed too tight. “Uh, okay.”
Simon’s lips thinned. “I’m…sorry. I’m tired. Hell of a night, you know?”
Oh, yes, she did.
He eased his grip.
And Dee realized he looked tired. There was an edge of darkness under his eyes. The faint lines near his mouth had hardened.
Only fair, considering I probably look like warm hell.
She followed Simon inside. He bolted the back door, rolled his shoulders. Then he asked, voice distracted, “You want some food?”
She’d already had a shower, and sure, food sounded real good right then “Yes, why not?”
His head shot up and his gaze zeroed in on the front door. “Fuck.”
An icy stillness settled over her. “Uh, Simon?”
“Company.”
Understanding hit hard. “And here we are without a welcome mat out.” Weapon. Simon had to—
The windows exploded. Glass shattered, raining into the room as bullets ripped through the panes.
Shards hit her, cutting deep, and the rapid fire thunder of the guns echoed in her ears.
Sonofabitch.
Dee hit the floor just as the wooden front door burst apart. Bits of wood flew across the room, some biting into her flesh, some scraping the skin right off.
She crawled behind the couch. Pitiful cover, but it was better than nothing. Simon inched toward her. A long trickle of blood ran down the side of his face.
Dee sucked in a quick breath. Whoever was firing—the bastards were sure doing a fine job of shooting up the place.
Where was her gun? Back in that blood-soaked room? Perfect time to be unarmed.
Simon grabbed her shoulder. “We’ve got to run for it,” he whispered.
That didn’t seem like the best option, but then, sitting there and waiting for the assholes with guns to come and shoot her right in the face didn’t seem like such a fine plan, either.
He pointed to the right, to a closed door. “Garage,” he mouthed.
Five feet away. Maybe six. But where were the shooters? Still outside? Or working their way in?
The faint groan of wood reached her ears. The porch was wooden. Old, faded wood. Fuck. Their attackers were getting too close.
“Go!” Simon heaved her up, moving at the same time to cover her back. Dee lunged for the door. How had they found them so quickly? How had—
Bam. Bam.
One bullet cut right across her shoulder. Sonofabitch.
Using her left hand, she jerked open the door.
Simon hit a button on the wall even as he fell into her. They tumbled down three steps, hit the concrete, hard, and staggered up in a tangle of limbs and curses.
The Mustang waited. Black coat gleaming. Dee jumped into the passenger seat even as more bullets flew. Simon took the wheel.
The garage door was opening—must have been a door control that he hit before—
“Here.” He dug under the seat. “Get those bastards off our backs.”
A gun. A sweet, black Beretta that fit perfectly in her hands.
Two assholes in black appeared, heading down the steps into the garage. Ski masks covered their faces and their guns were up.
Simon jerked the gear shift into reverse. Dee hoped the garage door was open enough.
Bullets plowed into the windshield. One. Two.
Dee shot right back. The bullet hit the guy high in the shoulder. Not a flesh wound, a deep thud of bullet into muscle and bone. And so down went one jerk in black. The other dove for cover.
“Fuck! Behind us!”
She spun around. Two more men, revealed now by the opening in the garage. Guns up. Since when did vamps hunt in the daytime? And wear ski masks?
“Hold on,” he growled and the car flew backward even faster.
Because he was aiming right for the men.
They jumped away at the last second, flying to the overgrown side of the road before the Mustang rammed them.
Simon shifted quickly. The Mustang snarled forward, horses pounding away.
Dee stared back at the men. Not giving chase. Not yet. Too busy picking their beaten butts up off the ground.
And the way Simon was driving…hell, no, they wouldn’t be following them anytime soon.
The Mustang was easily pushing one hundred on the long, empty stretch of road.
Dee took a deep breath. The first she’d had since she’d risen from her cover in his den. Her shoulder burned like a bitch. Carefully, she unlocked her white knuckled grip and clicked on the gun’s safety before she put in on the floor-board.
Wincing, she touched the wound. Okay. A lot of blood, but the bullet hadn’t gone in the shoulder, just grazed her. No big damage. She’d keep living.
Dee eyed Simon. “Are you hit?”
He growled at her. Seriously, growled.
Dee reached for him. “Simon?”
His head jerked toward her. “Back off.” His teeth snapped together.
What? Her hand hovered in the air between them.
He shook his head even as his knuckles whitened around the wheel. “Don’t touch me now.”
Her fingers fisted, then fell. “I-I didn’t think someone would come after me.” Not so quickly. But, hell, she should have known. Someone could have easily followed her and Simon from that death pit.
And that someone had wrecked his house. Nearly killed him.
Yeah, because all that will put a smile on a guy’s face. No wonder he was growling at her. She’d just brought her usual death and danger into the guy’s life.
“You didn’t ask for this,” she said, even as she glanced back to make sure they still weren’t being followed. This time, she was alert enough to spot a tail. Being unconscious had really slowed down her game before. “I-I’ll contact Zane at the first safe stop. Get him to come for me and—”
“The hell you will.” Guttural, but without the dark fury of before.
“Dammit, don’t you see what being with me is doing to you?” He had to see it. “Those bastards were after me, Simon, they wanted—”
“Fuck what they wanted.” He spared her a burning glance. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
What?
He shifted in his seat, flinching a bit. “And those weren’t vampires, babe. Since when do vamps hunt in the daylight? And use guns on prey?”
Hardly ever. Vamps didn’t explode in the sunlight. That was just some BS myth Hollywood had invented. Good old Bram had been right when he’d said that vampires could walk in the daylight. They were just weaker in the hours of light—human weak. Dee had always figured Bram must’ve had the inside track on the vamps.
As for using guns…why shoot your prey? For vampires, that was just a waste of good blood. Dee swallowed. “Why would vamps send humans after me?”
“After us.”
Her eyes narrowed. Sweat beaded Simon’s upper brow.
“They know I’m helping you,” he muttered. “Now they’re trying to shut us both down. Not. Gonna. Happen.”
The car jerked a bit. “Simon?”
He shook his head. “All…right.” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, but his eyes began to drift shut.
“No, you’re not.” Her heart slammed into her ribs. “You’re hit, aren’t you?” Don’t touch me now. Gruff and angry. Had to be man slang for I’m hurting. “Stop the car, let me see what—”
“No! Won’t…let them…take you…”
Uh, being all macho and protective was kind of sexy, especially since she was usually the ass-kicking one, but…
The car swerved off the road and headed straight for the line of twisted pines.
“Simon!” Dee lunged for the wheel.
Chapter 6
Simon stared at the grim-faced reflection in the broken gas station mirror.
He’d fucked up. Gotten distracted by a sexy smile and curvy body.
He hadn’t been on guard, hadn’t known the attackers were going to hit until it was too late.
Running—his only option. He hated to run.
When the gun had fired, he’d taken the hit. Taken it hard, right in the back. A human would have died.