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Authors: Kathi S. Barton

Tags: #paranormal;Romance

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BOOK: Enduring Retribution e-book
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Instead of answering, Bailey wanted her things. “I had some stuff. The other woman, the one from the hotel, said she got it all. I’d like it please.”

“I believe it’s all here with the exception of your arsenal. Tristan has taken that to the safe in the other wing of the house. There are clean towels and a new toothbrush in the bathroom. I’ll wait here, and then we’ll talk.”

“Whatever.”

Bailey hobbled to the beautifully appointed bathroom. It was as big as most hotel rooms she stayed in when working. Of course she tended to stay in dives, but still, it was huge. The double vanity was the length of the room, about ten feet. There were high gloss cobalt pottery bowls sitting under the long necked faucets instead of sinks. The lights around the mirrors were soft and reset into the wall behind them. There was a deep pool, not a tub but an actual pool with a water fall coming from somewhere above with plants hanging from different heights. When Bailey ran her hand through the water, she found it to be very warm, almost hot and smooth.

Unlit candles surrounded the pool, sitting on rocks and nestled in plants. Next to it was a shower stall that four people could easily stand in, with jets at different levels and overhead. As much as she wanted to strip down and sink down in the pool, she reached into the shower and turned on the water. The sooner she was out of here, the better.

Fifteen minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom. The aches and pains had lessened to the point where she didn’t limp. And if need be, and it would have to be a big fucking need, she could defend herself. Her hair, always a pain most times, had cooperated and was now pulled back into a tight French braid that hung damp past her hips. The woman, as promised, was still waiting for her.

“I need to leave. While I appreciate your hospitality, I will be going.” Bailey began gathering her things up and setting them on the chair next to the big bed.

There wasn’t a bag, but her pants gave her enough places to stash things so she wasn’t overly concerned. Clips went into various pockets, the blades clipped to her belt, as did two of the OC spray canisters. The rest of her gear fit into hidden pockets here and there throughout her clothing. The woman, Abby, she’d called herself, hadn’t said a word.

The woman had to see that Bailey was neither nice nor human. She was defiant and strong, incredibly so. Bailey also knew she should have been out for another couple of days at least, but here she was, a mere twenty-four hours after having been thrown from a third story balcony, making demands and expected them to be granted.

“This Tristan person, do you think he’ll let me get my stuff later? I have things to do today and I don’t have time to wait on him while he drains some unsuspecting woman. Or man if he’s into all that.” Bailey knew enough about vamps to know they liked sex with their dinner. Sort of like a meal and a show, she supposed.

“Have a seat, please. I believe you and I have some things to discuss. I don’t have your guns, as I’ve said, so you’d have to wait for Tristan to return to get those anyway, so you might as well relax for a while.” Abby indicated the chair across from her before she smiled and continued. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“No, I didn’t. Sorry, lady, but I don’t do social. Night.” With a flick of power, Abby St.

James slumped in her chair.

Bailey found her things laid out in very neat piles on the table in the room. Everything was clean and folded in pristine order, stacked, and smelling fresh. Her shirts, all black and all tshirts, were lying on top of her jeans, also all black. Her socks, which she had never mated together, the only reason why she always bought the same kind, were not only folded by pairs but stacked end to end. Her panties and bras, the only real things she spent any money on, were spread out, not rolled up, as if the person who put them there was trying to see how they would look on someone. W
hatever
, she thought with a mental shrug. Her other items, toiletries, passports, all seven of them, were put into pile of use, bathroom stuff all together, purse stuff, if she bothered to carry one, together. She simply reached out, grabbed one of the biggest bags she carried, and scooped it all into it without a thought to how messy it would be again. Stuff was stuff, and who cared what it looked like so long as it covered what it needed to and was clean?

It took her about twenty minutes to navigate the sub levels. She discovered why there was a pool; they were below ground a good ways and deep into a cavelike structure. After she had had to back track twice, she finally made her way to a set of narrow stairs and up to the main floor.

She reached into this level and felt that there wasn’t anyone about in this part of the house. And from what she could feel, the house was massive.

She managed to leave the house and the grounds without anyone seeing her. She knew that the outside security cameras would pick her up, but there was little to nothing she could do about that without more time. She was able to disengage the gate, and then rearmed it. She wouldn’t leave them vulnerable just because they had pissed her off. She shifted and flew into town.

Bailey was standing in line at the check-in counter at the airport gate when her cell phone sounded. It was such an unusual event that it took her a few rings and someone to poke her from behind for her to realize it was her ringing. She answered it on the final ring, and as soon as she heard the voice, wished that she had left it to go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“I have another job for you. This one is in Germany. When can you get there?”

Neither of them used names. The phone was a pay as you go so that there were no bills.

Also, since she traded the thing out at random intervals, it was nearly impossible to trace to her.

“I can be there in six hours, provided you pay for the last job before I purchase my tickets.

The stationery was delivered over twenty-four hours ago, and we have cash on delivery billing in our business, remember?”

She hated working for people who didn’t follow rules. Bailey liked rules and liked them even better when they went her way. She snickered at the thought.

“The money will be wired in one hour. This job is a rush and I’m willing to pay you for any set up fees. And a bonus if you can have it printed in less than ten hours.”

The voice was never the same, but she still kept notes on the words or phrases that were used each time. This particular voice was one that she’d talked to over a dozen time and the targets were always human who had let the dark magic or black get the better of them and had taken lives. Bailey wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t wholly trust the person at the other end, hadn’t from the very beginning. There was something just off about it.

“No. Now. I have to pay my employees, and I don’t work that way. I believe we’ve had this same conversation about a dozen times now.”

Bailey hung up. They’d either call her back or wire the money. She really didn’t care which.

When she got to the ticket counter, she purchased a ticket for the next flight to Rome. Once there, she would go to Germany if the bill got paid in a timely manner. Bailey didn’t think about the time factor. Never take a direct route when several would get her there safely and keep her ass safe. She always used cash too. Covering her tracks wasn’t just a concept, but a way of life for her.

Everyone, including her and Griff, always used printing terms when they called. She didn’t have the first clue how to print anything and even if she was to use a copier, she’d have to get out the manual to see how to turn one on. It seemed a good plan at the beginning. Griff, Tyler and she had laughed for hours about how someone would call in and ask for a hit. It had gotten so ridiculous that when they were approached the first time by their first client a few days later, they nearly lost the job because they couldn’t stop laughing. She had been ten years old. And keeping the humans at bay had gotten to be easier all the time.

Bailey’s phone rang just as she was being called to be seated. It had been only seven minutes since she’d told the voice to pay or fuck off and two since she had been notified by Griff that the money was in their account. With a grin, she answered.

“I just checked, and we are good to go. I’ll call you when the next job is received.” She hung up. She didn’t leave any chance that he could trace the calls. It was hard to do on the type of phone she used, but it could be done. And at the rate things were going with technology, that too would be a way of the past. Bailey took the battery out of her phone and crushed it in her hand.

Then she snapped the phone in half and dropped the two different pieces of it into two different trash cans along the tarmac.

Bailey made a very good living at what she did. If she stopped working right now, she’d have enough money to live very nicely for the rest of her days. The excitement of the job and doing it well had gone out of it with the death of Tyler, though. He had been everything to her; maybe, she thought, it was time to hang up her guns. And just as that thought entered her mind, she pushed it away. She couldn’t quit, not right now, maybe not ever.

Tyler Dunn hadn’t really been her brother. They had been closer than that, if possible. They had met in the lab at Co-Tech Industries. They had both been lab experiments. He had been born a wolf and sold to the company when he was still a cub; he’d been about eight weeks old. Then his parents, for whatever reason, had just never returned.

The techs had thought to change him into the perfect killing machine by injecting steroids and other nasty chemicals into him. But they hadn’t counted on him being soft hearted. Without the drive or natural inclination to kill, his size and abilities aside, he would be useless to them.

Bailey had been six years old then to his eight. She had heard that they were going to

“dispose” of her friend for noncompliance and she’d stepped in to save him. She found him drugged and tied up in a cell. They had all escaped. She had been there since conception, being a creation from a test tube, so knowing just how to get out was easy for her. She too had been set up for termination, her flaw of mortality rendering her useless as a candidate for the elite killing squad.

Griff, a Cynogriffon, had been in the cell between hers and Tyler’s, and he had pledged his immortal life to her if she took him with them. They did, taking the man to Tyler’s left as well.

Charlie, another creation like her, had been shot as they were making their way across the compound. He took a bullet intended for her.

Griff had been a donor, a sperm donor to their test tube creations. He had also been their best trainer when they needed a sparring partner to their soldiers. Griff was a beautiful and fierce creature, and being an immortal, a perfect candidate for what they needed. They used him for his abilities that he could pass on through his sperm, which made him invaluable to them.

They had lived by their wits and abilities, nearly starving to death the first year. Bailey would devise a plan and Tyler would figure out the logistics of it and Griff would protect them from afar with his powerful magic. They rarely got caught, and when they did, Bailey would

“shadow” them out. Her powers got stronger as she got older. It wasn’t until she was eleven or twelve that she figured out she was able to shift, to change into whatever she wanted. Her shifting and Tyler’s seven-foot, eight-inch bulky frame had helped them get their first job accomplished. A vampire gone rogue was not an easy kill.

When Bailey finally boarded the plane to Rome some forty minutes later, she found herself seated next to a chatty woman and her young son. The boy was annoying, as was the woman with her constant yelling at Paul. Within an hour of taking off, Bailey put them both into a deep sleep. Bailey herself slept well for the first time in days.

~CHAPTER FIVE~

Tristan hung up the phone and started breathing deep, in and out, in and out. He’d never been so angry in his entire life. She had actually knocked his mother out. Of course, Mom thought it was funny and intriguing to say the least. One minute she was telling her what was what, and the next, poof, waking up several hours later. He wondered how she would feel about the young lady if she knew he refused to mate with her. By the time she woke again, the girl had left, taking her clothes and leaving the passports behind with a note.

‘Thanks for your lovely hospitality; I have never enjoyed a more friendly stay in my life. I
won’t need these anymore as they’ve been compromised. Have a nice life.’

And no signature, not even initials. Damn her.

Tristan closed his eyes and reached for her. He had given her his blood, quite a bit, as a matter of fact, so finding her shouldn’t be a problem. He frowned; she was far, no longer in Paris, but…Germany. What the fuck was she doing in Germany? He stretched farther and found her running, running from someone. She was in danger and angry. He stiffened when he felt the first bullet enter her, the pain searing through her, then a second one. Still she ran, stumbling now. When she lost conciseness, he lost his connection with her. He found himself standing, ready to…to do what, he didn’t know, but he knew that she was in trouble, the little fool.

Tristan found Aaron in his study and told him that he was needed elsewhere for a few days, would he mind keeping an eye on Patrice?

Aaron just laughed and agreed to help him out. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with the woman in Paris, does it? Pete said she’s a mean little thing.”

“It is, although I don’t know what could be so funny about it. I’ve only known her for a short time and she’s been in more trouble than I have had in all my life.” Tristan picked up his briefcase.

He kept it as close to him as most men did their wallet. Probably more so if he had to hazard a guess. Straightening his tie, he was ready to leave. “She’s my mate. I don’t want her to be, but there you have it. What am I supposed to do with her, I ask you? Why, I don’t even know what she is much less her proper name.”

“Not much you can do now that you’ve found her.” Aaron grinned at him as he offered up a suggestion. “I would suggest that you try talking to her. From what I’ve heard, she isn’t too happy when she’s pushed.”

BOOK: Enduring Retribution e-book
10.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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