Embraced by Darkness (26 page)

I left the casings lying where they were—not only because I didn’t have gloves but because I knew squat about guns and wouldn’t have been able to tell one casing from another—and followed the building’s edge, looking for a clue as to where my would-be assassin had gone. I wasn’t close enough to see the pavement directly below, and technically six flights shouldn’t have had my phobia rising, but the breeze whistling up and over the edge gave a feeling of greater height and my stomach twisted.

I reached the other end of the building. There was a small jump over an alleyway to the rooftop of my building, and someone had not only taken it at speed but had misjudged their landing. Several of the aerials were either bent out of shape or broken. The old cow of an owner would have a pink fit—she loved her TV above everything else.

After a quick glance down at the gap between the two buildings, I backed away from the edge and pressed the com-link button in my ear.

“Anyone home?”

“Oh joy, it’s the bitch,” a familiar voice said.

I smiled. “Hey, Sal, welcome back. I missed you.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I’m gone a whole twenty-four hours and you’re pining for me. Right. What can I do for you, wolf girl?”

“Someone’s just taken a potshot at me. With silver bullets.”

“So who’d you piss off this time?”

“No one that I know of.”

“I find that
extremely
hard to believe.”

So did I, actually. “He didn’t manage to kill me.”

“You do like stating the fucking obvious, don’t you?”

I grinned. “He did manage to put a whole heap of holes in your car.”

“Well, fuck him.”

“Yeah.” I took a breath then, with my heart racing a million miles an hour, ran at the edge, and leapt over. It wasn’t really a wide gap, no matter what my stupid fears were saying, and I landed on the other side without a problem. “The shooter was on the roof of the apartment next to mine. I’m currently on my rooftop and heading down.”

“Any evidence?”

“Shell casings. There might be prints.”

“I’ll send a team out.”

“Thanks, Sal.”

“You won’t be thanking me when you get the repair bill, wolf girl.”

I chuckled softly, clicked off the com-link, and walked around to the fire exit. The stair door was hanging off one hinge and swaying softly in the breeze. And what looked to be a footprint was neatly etched into the metal. My attacker was on the small side, if this print was any indication.

I stood to one side of the doorway, studying the shadows and listening for anything out of place. The normal sounds and scents of living drifted up from the apartments below, but the air also held the slightest hint of staleness—the type of staleness I’d long associated with vampires. Though this wasn’t as bad as some.

My shooter had definitely been past here, but I doubted he was still hanging around. His scent was fading, and I couldn’t “feel” any other nonhuman in the immediate vicinity.

Still, if he knew I lived here, there was no saying he wasn’t waiting in the shadows near my apartment.

I ducked around the corner of the broken door, feeling a little foolish but knowing it was better than feeling a little dead. Hell, Rhoan would never forgive me if I got myself killed this easily after everything we’d been through this last year or so.

None of the shadows moved, though, and the darkness hid nothing but dust. Even so, I edged down each step carefully, every sense tuned. No one jumped out at me. Nothing but darkness hid on the fire escape.

When I neared the hallway of my own floor, I hesitated, switching to infrared and scanning the area. Again, nothing.

But the heat of two bodies flared to life in my apartment, and neither the shapes nor the murmuring voices were familiar.

Infrared couldn’t actually tell me what race the two people in my apartment were. All it could do was tell me that blood pumped through their veins—perhaps a little faster than what was normal for a vampire, but that was no guarantee one or both of them weren’t bloodsuckers.

I studied their images a little longer, fixing their positions in my mind, then padded softly down the hall until I was near my door.

After taking another deep breath and releasing it slowly, I stepped forward, hitting the lock in the sweet spot and springing it open.

Two men spun around, one of them reaching for a gun. He was fast, real fast.

But I was faster.

I blurred, running at him at full speed, snatching the gun from him with one hand and punching his jaw with the other, sending him back and down.

Then I turned and leapt for the second man, who was already running. I hit him in the back, the weight of my body dragging him down. He slammed into the floorboards with a grunt, but twisted and punched. The blow caught my cut lip, sending my head snapping backward and blood flying. I cursed, smashed an elbow into his face, then wedged the tip of my stolen weapon under the point of his chin. His sour scent told me he was the wolf I’d smelled earlier.

“Try something like that again, and I’ll blow your frigging head off,” I growled.

“Okay, okay,” he rasped, voice showing more anger than fear.

For the first time, I got a good look at him. Saw the flat, nondescript features, beady gray eyes, and harsh, uncompromising mouth.

It wasn’t a stranger I’d beaten up and threatened.

It was Patrin.

Chapter 9

I
have to say, my first reaction was one of intense satisfaction. I’d spent a good portion of my younger years afraid of this bastard and his siblings, unable to retaliate for fear of reprisals from their father. To be sitting here on top of him, sucking in the scent of his anger and fear—to see the blood gushing from his smashed nose and split lip—was an undeniably sweet turnaround.

But in the heat of battle I’d forgotten he wasn’t alone, and that was a very stupid thing to do.

As the sharp snap of a gun being cocked confirmed.

“Put the weapon down and step away from him.” The voice was soft, almost without threat, and that, in my books, suggested that the wolf with Patrin was very dangerous indeed.

I didn’t move, didn’t look at him, even though just about every sense I had was tuned for the faintest whisper of movement. I continued to stare at Patrin, letting him see the hatred in my eyes, letting him wonder if I really would pull the trigger.

“You willing to bet the life of your employer on the fact you’re faster with a gun than I am?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re a fool. And Patrin obviously hasn’t told you what I am.”

“You’re a fucking useless half-breed who needs to be taken down a peg or two, that’s what you are,” Patrin snarled.

I smiled grimly and wedged the gun barrel into his neck a little harder. Sweat popped out across his forehead and the scent of his fear increased.

God, it felt good. Damned good.

“And who’s going to do that, Patrin? You? Or will you run to Daddy for help like you always do?”

“Bitch, I don’t need my father’s help to take the likes of you. I never have.”

“Which is why you’re now on your back with a gun shoved into your throat, isn’t it?” I said pleasantly.

He snarled and bucked, trying to throw me off. I gripped harder with my thighs, using more force than necessary. Indeed, more force than a wolf should have had. But then, I wasn’t just wolf—and he, of all people, should have remembered that.

He swore at me, viciously and fluently. I ignored him, and glanced at the second wolf. He, too, was a red wolf, but from a different pack. His hair was so dark it almost looked black in the fast-disappearing light, and his eyes were golden.

“Please tell your employer if he doesn’t remain still, I’m going to be forced to shoot something vital.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to let you do that.” He was still using calm tones, and though there was tension to be seen in his lean body, the vibes he was throwing off were all cool confidence.

“And I’m afraid you won’t stop me.” I hesitated, glancing back at Patrin. “He
didn’t
tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m a guardian.” I glanced at the second wolf again. “I’m trained to track, fight, and kill vampires. Many of my kills have been several hundred years old, and far faster and stronger than you two ever could be.”

Which was more than a slight fabrication of the truth, but neither of them would know that. Besides, I hardly think they’d believe me if I said I’d helped bring down a dark god, and that
was
nothing but the truth.

“No, he didn’t tell me that. But I still can’t let you shoot him. I have to try and stop you. You understand.”

What I understood was that his calm demeanor suggested he was well trained, and probably a deadly shot. Patrin would only hire the best, after all. And as much as I would have loved to prove a point to these men, I’d really been shot at enough today.

So I eased the gun away from Patrin’s neck, emptied the chamber, then pushed the weapon across the floor to the second man. “I actually have no plans to kill him today. Unless, of course, he refuses to answer my questions.”

“Fair enough.” The flick of movement had me tensing—and suddenly wondering if I’d misjudged him—but he was merely bending to retrieve his weapon. “I’m Kye, by the way.”

“I gathered that.” I looked down at Patrin again. “If I get off you, are you going to behave?”

“You’re the one that attacked
me
,” he all but spat.

“Nice change, huh?”

I climbed off him and stepped back. He got to his feet, rubbing his neck and glaring at Kye.

“So tell me, did that fucker you call Father arrange a hit on me?”

“No, though it’s a damn good idea.” He dug a handkerchief out of his suit pocket and dabbed rather uselessly at his bloody nose. “Why?”

“Because someone set up an ambush outside, complete with silver bullets.”

“Hence your rather dramatic entrance,” Kye said, as he walked across to the window.

“Well, finding strangers sitting in my living room after a close brush with silver does make me a little wary.” I looked at Patrin again. “And if you don’t tell me why you’re here, I might get violent again.”

“A letter arrived for me yesterday,” he said. “From Adrienne.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I thought she was dead.”

“She is.” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Yet the emotion lacking in his voice was all too evident in his eyes. Patrin wasn’t only angry, he wanted revenge.

That
was why he was here—to hunt down and kill his daughter’s murderer. Not an unexpected sentiment, even from a wolf as cold and as uncaring as Patrin.

But the fact that Adrienne had sent a letter meant she’d known whatever she was investigating was dangerous. Perhaps she’d even seen her own death.

I wondered if she’d sent a letter to Jodie. I hoped so. “What did she say in the letter?”

“That something was going on at some club.”

“Did she say what?” I walked across to the ironing basket and got a clean towel out. My arm was still bleeding, but I didn’t want to shift shape with these two men in the room. They might not be out to get me, but I still wasn’t about to trust them. And shifting to wolf form would put me at a disadvantage—one the past had proved Patrin would use.

“She said the owners of the club were using one of the rooms to tape politicians and corporate personnel in compromising positions and blackmail them.”

So that
was
why she’d disappeared? Because she’d been sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong and had discovered too much? But what, then, was the connection between the club and the island? Why go up there at all if she was investigating the blackmailing?

“We are aware of the blackmail angle.” Though we weren’t following it up, because I’d forgotten to tell Jack about it. “Did she say who the owners were? Give a description?”

He shook his head. “But if the club’s under investigation, you should already know that.”

“What’s on paper, and what the reality is, are often two different things. As you should know.” Hell, thanks to the hours I’d spent listening to conversations I shouldn’t have as a kid, I knew that Patrin and his bastard father owned several manufacturing firms. But for tax purposes, their names were hidden by a long paper trail. I glanced at my watch. “If that’s all, I need you to leave. I have stuff to do before I go to work tonight.”

He took a step toward me. Part of me wanted to step back. The other part, the part wanting revenge for old hurts, bristled. It was all I could do not to step forward and challenge.

“I want the name of the club.” His voice was low, dangerous.

I clenched my fists, but resisted the impulse to lash out. To thump the cold arrogance from his already bloody face. “It’s guardian business, and you will keep your stinking little nose out of it.”

“Adrienne is my
daughter
. Her death
will
be avenged.”