WidowMaker (19 page)

The vampire still stalked forward, intent on its prey. Derek raised his gun and fired. The gun clicked. Empty. Shit. Derek ejected the clip out of his gun and pulled another from the waistband of his pants, snapping it in place.

“We need a stake!” Jill yelled.

Of course, a stake. Why didn’t Derek think of that? This kinda stuff happened all the time. Derek ran over to the pig, yanking out the skewer.

“Oh, God …What did Sir Anthony Hopkins do in that
Dracula
remake …?” Jill mumbled. “Oh God! He beheaded him!”

“Now, that I can do!” Derek answered.

The butcher knife lay on the floor at the vampire’s feet. Derek judged the distance from the vampire’s sharp teeth to the shiny blade on the floor. Crap. This was going to be close.
Way
too close for Derek’s taste.

Diving across the floor, he not only picked up the knife, but kicked out the vamp’s legs. Scrambling up, he brought the butcher knife around, but Drac was already up. Too bad. Derek slashed downward, slamming the blade into Drac’s neck. Wires popped out, but the vampire pushed forward. Its eyes focused on Jill.

“B … b … blood.”

This one wasn’t as easy to kill as Derek thought. Pulling the knife from the vamp’s neck, Derek hopped on the vampire’s back, tugging its head to the side, and sawed back and forth. The skin peeled back.

Derek looked up. Jason Baxter held Jill. A knife against her throat. A tear slid down her cheek. Her eyes apologetic. The door behind her wide open. The cheating bastards must have used a key.

Could Derek take on both of the brothers without Jill getting hurt? Was he willing to take that chance? To let his arrogance risk another life? Derek shoved the vampire away from him. Its head dangled by a single wire.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 13

Simon leaned against the wall, his forehead pressed to the window overlooking the theater. The movie flashed on the screen below. The steady
whir
of the projector next to him was confirmation that Simon completed his assignment and was off duty. Thank God, because right now his legs felt like JELL-O. Simon laughed, sliding to the floor.

Bob scooted toward Simon, blowing out a trail of smoke as he passed a joint. “Didn’t I tell you this was good stuff?”

Simon inhaled. “Oh man, I needed this,” he said releasing a puff of smoke. “That bitch Amanda Temple has had my balls clenched in her fist all damn day.”

Changing his tone to match Amanda’s arrogance, he mimicked, “Check with the caterers, Simon! Guard the film, Simon! Eat me with a spoon, Simon!” Simon flipped his middle finger toward the window. He wished he had the balls to tell her to screw off in person.

The projector began to glow from within. It vibrated, shaking the floor.

Bob nudged Simon, pointing to the projector and tugging the joint out of Simon’s hand. “Oh man, didn’t I … didn’t I tell you this has gotta be the best goddamn weed on the West Coast?” Bob eyed the joint before placing it between his lips and sucking in a sharp breath.

Laughing, Simon pulled the joint back, inhaling deeply. “Screw that! This is the best shit ever!” Simon was going to have to hang out with Bob more often. For a grunge head, he was kinda cool. Definitely took the edge off of a shitty day. And as long as Simon worked for tight- ass Amanda, he was going to need a regular supply from his new best friend.

Simon pushed himself off the floor. He stumbled toward the glowing projector, imitating the steady beat that rocked the floor. “
Boom … boom … boom …
” Simon slapped his hands against the projector. “
Boom … boom … boom.
”

Bob snickered from behind Simon.

“Screw you, Amanda!” Simon slurred, unzipping his pants. “This is what I think of your damn film.” Simon peed on the base of the projector, twisting back and forth. A spark zapped out of the projector, zinging up Simon’s stream of urine.

A wet stain spread across Simon’s pants. “Damn thing shocked me!”

Bob fell over laughing as he clutched his stomach. “Didn’t … Didn’t your daddy ever teach you not to pee on an electric fence?” He continued to laugh, his body curled into the fetal position.

Sure, laugh it up, Bob. He wasn’t the one who just had a volt of electricity shoot up his junk. Damn. That really hurt. It would probably burn to pee for the next week.

Zipping up his pants, Simon frowned. Maybe he needed to lay off the pot for the rest of the night. Simon couldn’t attend the after-party stoned off his ass. That would be the end of his promotion.

A tornado of electricity wrapped around Simon, lifting him off his feet. Back arched, his body jerked as the current sliced through his body. Simon’s clothing singed. The acrid smell of burning flesh permeated the room.

* * *

Hanging with Simon wasn’t that bad. It beat smoking alone at home. The dude was funny once he got the stick out of his ass. But he better clean up the mess he made on the floor. If Bob wasn’t so high right now, he might have kicked his ass for pissing all over his precious projector.

A foul stench harshed Bob’s mellow mood. “Man, what’s that smell?” he groaned, covering his nose. That shit was nasty. What did Simon eat before he came up here? A turd sandwich?

“Phew, man!” Bob gagged, waving his hand in front of his face. “Something crawled up your ass and died!” Talk about making himself at home. The dude could take his stink right to the bathroom—where it belonged.

Bob sat up, twisting toward Simon’s still form stretched out on the floor. The projector continued to glow. The thumping stopped. Just the steady click and whir of the projector continued.

“Told ya the shit was strong. Couldn’t handle it, could ya?” Bob opened his pouch of pot, smiling. “All the more for me, man …”

* * *

Derek watched as Jeremy pulled a remote out of his camouflage pants, aiming it at a blank wall in the hallway. The wall slid open, revealing an elevator inside. Jason pulled Jill in first. The knife bit into her neck, drawing a bead of blood.

Jill whimpered, her eyes wide with fear.

That son of a bitch! Derek stepped forward flexing his hands. Jason was dead.

Jason tsked, jerking Jill’s head back. “Easy, Agent Boulder. Accidents happen. You wouldn’t want the knife to dig any deeper, would you?”

Jill’s eyes pleaded with Derek to stop. Her face was streaked with tears. Derek hated this feeling. And for a feeling he hated so very much, he kept landing right in the middle of it.

If anything happened to Jill. …
No.
Nothing was going to happen to her.

Jeremy gripped Derek’s arm, shoving him to the corner of the elevator. The doors swished closed. Cheesy elevator music began as the elevator rose.

Sick of their surprises, Derek looked at Jill. The knife to her neck shone under the fluorescent lights. He could take Jeremy, that was no question, but that left Jason with the blade and Jill. No, Derek would have to wait and take them off guard. Patience was needed right now. Unfortunately, that was not exactly his strong suit.

The elevator bounced to a stop, and then the doors swished open. Jeremy stepped out first, waiting for Derek. Followed by Jill and Jason. They crossed the deserted hall entering the brothers’ viewing room. A large television screen rested on the wall in front of them. E! News was muted, showing
Terror’s
movie premiere. Ten black and white security monitors showed different areas of the house. No other lights, except for the glow from the monitors. And no monsters. So, what did the brothers have planned?

“Please take a seat, Agent Boulder.” Jeremy directed Derek to a straight-back metal chair facing the monitors. Derek wanted to tell him where he could shove that chair, but one look at the knife digging into Jill’s throat made him sit silently.

Jeremy lifted a coil of rope off the desk. He wound it tightly around Derek’s wrists, securing him to the chair. Derek shifted his wrists. For a small guy, Jeremy was good at tying knots. Maybe the freaks were Boy Scouts, too.

“Your psych file made for some interesting reading material, Agent Boulder,” Jason said as he secured Jill to the metal chair next to Derek.

Derek’s head snapped toward Jason. What game were they playing now?

“The government should really be more careful with their security,” Jeremy scolded, shaking his head.

“We didn’t expect you to get as far as you did today. Your file said that a car backfiring would have you diving for cover. They were unsure of your reliability as a partner. If you would cave under fire. That’s why you were given the rookie. Easy case files until he was ready to go live in the field. But then well, he got hurt under your watch, too.

Derek tried to swallow. His throat tightened, almost choking. Derek blinked back the image of clear, blue eyes, no longer bright with life. Derek looked to Jill and saw the pity in her eyes. He knew that his mother told her about D.C. That she always stayed in contact with Jill, never accepting that it was over between them. But Derek couldn’t let the brothers distract him. He needed to stay focused if there was any survival outcome left.

“What have you done to Mitchell?” Derek asked, to distract not only himself but the brothers from pursuing his history.

“The studious master of the macabre?”

“I’m afraid he’s met a fitting end.” Jason turned to the control panel. A new image popped up on the monitor. A body in a white shirt and pants sprawled on the floor, a dark liquid pooled beneath.

Mitchell was just a kid. How could these bastards kill a kid? Shit. It was Derek’s fault. He should have found a way to go after him. The kid would have been safer in jail. Mitchell would have been home by now. Probably getting high with his roommates. “So I suppose this is the time you tell us what evil plan you have for the world?”

Derek needed to stall them. The sheriff should be here soon. These guys were arrogant enough to want to boast about their genius plan.

“Let me guess,” Derek said nodding toward the television where the president and first lady were being escorted into the theater, surrounded by Secret Service. “Assassination. How much are you being paid?”