When Temptation Burns: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 6) (37 page)

Doyle cursed. “We can’t worry about him right now. We need to lock down the rest of the explosives.”

Andy wanted to tell the RAC officer who was escorting her that she could make it to the control van on her own, except she knew damn well that Doyle would be furious if she did. Not only that, but as much as she wanted to be independent and strong, she also knew that she was no match for Paul and Bryce.

Better to keep the escort.

“You’re not a vamp,” Andy said. “Werewolf?”

The officer nodded once. And that was the end of that conversation.

They walked a few more yards in silence, but then Andy couldn’t stand it any longer. She needed to talk with someone. Needed that activity to keep her fears at bay. Because no matter how confident Doyle seemed,
the basic fact was that he was heading into the bowels of the building to look for explosives, and that really didn’t sound like much of a safe plan.

“How much farther?”

“Not far,” her guard said. “The van’s parked around that corner. Just down these stairs,” he said, as he led her down into the architectural plaza of the building next door. “Then we veer to the right and—”

She never learned what they were going to do after they veered right, because her escort stumbled, then slumped to the ground, a single silver bullet pierced through his heart. She saw him as he flinched, right at the point of impact, and instead of running or dropping to the ground, she went for his weapon, grabbing it and aiming it in the direction of the sound that had rung out the instant before the werewolf had fallen.

She got off three rounds, then heard a thud at the top of the shallow flight of marble stairs. Quickly, she rushed in that direction, and found that one of her three bullets had gotten Bryce square in the chest.

He wasn’t dead yet, though, and he swung his gun arm up and around, his movements slow but full of dark purpose.

She fired twice more, and his hand dropped limp to his side. She kicked the gun out of his hand and stood there, sucking in air and trying very hard not to hyperventilate.

“An excellent display,” Paul said from the shadows near the front entrance of the office building.

She spun and fired—but this time the gun only clicked.

“It’s a specially designed gun,” he said, stepping to her side and taking it out of her hand. His own gun was aimed at her, and because of it, she chose not to run. “I
have a supplier who sells them to me, and apparently he also sells them to Division Six. They shoot bullets that are a combination of wood and silver. Protection against both vampires and werewolves. But because of the unorthodox nature of the ammunition, the chamber holds only five rounds.”

“You’ll never get away with it.”

“I think you’re wrong.” He flashed a wide smile. “Won’t it be interesting to see which of us is right. And which of us is dead.”

“You need to feed,” Doyle told Luke as they plodded through the building’s huge, multileveled parking structure. “You’re weak. I can see it in your face.”

“Mist. Daylight. Not an extraordinary combination.” He faced Doyle. “The place has been rigged. We’ll find the charges—but you know as well as I do that our bad guys are long gone by now. They’re kicking back in a hotel somewhere with the television tuned to CNN so they can watch the coverage of the Los Angeles Criminal Justice Building getting taken down by an unnamed group of terrorists.”

“They won’t stay unnamed for long. Paul’s going to want credit, even if he only announces himself to the shadowers.”

Ahead of them, RAC team members spread out, some led by bomb-sniffing dogs, others by werens who’d also been trained in bomb detection.

“How far along is the evac?” Doyle called to one of the men.

“Fifty-seven percent, sir.”

Doyle nodded. It seemed like such a small amount considering that it felt like this entire ordeal had taken forever. On the clock, though, it hadn’t even been ten minutes since Andy had been dragged out onto the plaza.

“Got something, sirs!” A young ordnance officer called out to Doyle and Luke, and they hurried forward. Sure enough, one of the support columns was packed with C4—and the timer was only two minutes away from zero. “Wouldn’t take the whole building down,” the officer said, “but if he put similar wads in the other support beams …”

“On it,” Doyle said. He raced in one direction, and Luke shot off in the other. Sure enough, another wad of C4 had been packed in the northeast support beam. Doyle disarmed it and continued racing against time. No way to be sure, but it was a rectangular building. Four in the corners, one in the middle. If Luke and the officer got the other two corners, that left the center beam. It was possible there were charges more deeply hidden within the building, but he doubted it. The explosives had undoubtedly been planted by Travis or one of his lackeys. They’d want to stay in places that were normally accessible by the building’s personnel. A parking garage was easy—and since the team had already checked the other floors, Doyle hoped that meant that they were on the trail of the last of the C4.

He sprinted toward the final support column, knowing that only seconds were left.

He didn’t make it.

He was still yards away when the charge exploded, sending great chunks of concrete and rebar flying through the air.

Doyle ducked, then crawled forward, trying to see through the dust.

What he saw made his stomach twist.

The building hadn’t collapsed—one column crumbling wasn’t enough to do that. But it had caused one hell of a mess. And there, in the mess, was Luke.

Doyle hurried to his side. “Good job,” he deadpanned, masking his fear. “You found the last one.”

His friend didn’t answer.

No. Oh, please, no
.

“Luke? Dammit, Luke—”

The vampire’s eyes opened, and Doyle could see his pain. Hell, he could smell it.

“My leg,” Luke said, and Doyle peered through the dust to see that at least three tons of concrete and steel had smashed down on Luke’s leg.

“Shit. Can you move it?”

Luke’s smile was thin. “Even on my best day, I doubt it. Weak like I am …” He trailed off.

“You need strength.” He rolled up his sleeve. “Drink.” But Luke only shook his head.

“Dammit, Luke.
Drink
.”

Doyle’s earpiece buzzed. It was Tucker, wanting a report.

“What the hell happened?”

Doyle told him, ending with the news about Luke and a request that a medical team be sent in, along with several bags of blood. “Tell Andy I’m fine and I’ll be there as soon as I’m sure Luke’s okay.”

“Andy? I thought she stayed with you.”

Doyle’s blood ran cold. “She didn’t go back to command? She’s not with you?”

“Oh, shit,” Tucker said. “I’ll start pulling up video feeds. Maybe we can find her.”

“Go,” Luke said, the moment Doyle dropped his hand away from his earpiece.

“You heard?”

“Enough. I said go. Go now.”

Doyle stood, ready to run away to do just that. Then he paused and looked back at Luke. “I love her.”

“All the more reason to run to her.”

“Anything?” Doyle spoke into the headset as he rushed, dust-covered, out of the garage. The immediate area was clear; beyond that, a huge crowd had gathered, currently held at bay by the human police department. For a moment, he wondered where the more exotic shadowers were, but then he realized that he honestly didn’t give a damn. Right now the only thing he cared about was Andy.

“Got them on the north camera. They crossed the plaza and were heading around the building next door en route to the RV.”

“After that?”

“We’re scouring traffic cameras and ATM footage. So far, nothing.”

“Fuck.”

“I’ll mobilize the werens on the team. We’ll find the scent, Doyle. We’ll find Andy.”

“I’m coming in. I want to see all the footage. Maybe I’ll catch something you missed.”

“I’ll have it ready for you.”

Doyle tapped the earpiece, shutting down their conversation. He didn’t want Tucker in his head. Not when Andy was with Paul. Paul, the son-of-a-bitch who Doyle wished was shut up in a hotel room watching CNN like Luke had said, because then—

Wait a minute. Wait one goddamn minute
.

He pulled out his phone and did a search for nearby hotels. The closest was the Warford, just down the hill. Obvious, considering that’s where Paul had thrown his party for Kevin and the boys. But Paul thought he was smarter than everyone else. And he certainly never thought he’d be caught.

He was there
. Doyle was certain of it.

He was there, and now that his operation had taken a right turn toward failure, he was pissed. And that couldn’t be good for Andy.

He turned his earpiece back on and conveyed his suspicions to Tucker. “Check the register for me.”

“Not registered,” Tucker reported back. “But there’s a Dirk Warfield in the penthouse. D.W. Dark Warrior. Might be a coincidence, or—”

“It’s not,” Doyle said. “He’s there. I’m going in.”

“I’m sending backup.”

“Do not engage,” Doyle ordered. “Not without my authorization. I don’t want a team bursting in. Paul’s got an itchy trigger finger. We’ve contained the threat at the building; I don’t want to increase the risk to Andy.”

“Understood. We won’t move until you say so.”

At the hotel front desk, he flashed his badge to a twenty-something girl who looked awestruck that someone from Homeland Security was interested in one of their guests. “I need to know if there’s another way into the penthouse. Staff elevator?”

“Nothing that’s, well, real,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

She gnawed on her lower lip. “No one’s supposed to know about it—I mean, we worked really hard to keep it out of the papers—but last year some frat boys from
UCLA broke into the penthouse suite by shimmying down a pipe that runs from the roof to the balcony.”

“Did they? And the pipe’s still there?”

“It would be a huge deal to move it. Something to do with plumbing and codes and the fact that the building is so old.”

“You’ve been very helpful.” He paused before walking away. “And how exactly do I get to the roof?”

When he first dragged her into the penthouse, Paul was positively cheerful.