Lost Angeles (24 page)

Because she works for him.

And I let all the answers I ever needed walk right out the door.

Muttering to himself, completely determined to
not
look at me, Xaine’s not paying me a single speck of attention right now. Making a break for it, I duck into the hallway and head for the elevator at a trot. My finger hits the button with more vehemence than necessary, and I wait anxiously for the car to make its way to the top floor. Behind me, I can still hear Xaine digging around in the office, slamming drawers and shuffling papers until—

“Lore?”

Shit
.

The elevator dings, silver doors sliding back, and I’m wedging myself inside before they’re fully open. As I stab at the door-close button, Xaine skids into the hallway.

“Lore!”

But it’s too late; the doors glide shut, and I hear the hard slam of his body against the metal on the other side. Without so much as a hiccup, the car begins its descent, and when my stomach drops out from under me, I’m not sure if it’s gravity, nerves, adrenaline, or all of the above. I hit the dimly-lit lobby five seconds later. One foot over the threshold and I turn back, pulling the emergency switch, trapping the elevator car there and leaving Xaine to take the stairs down. The water feature throws rippling reflections across the walls, turning stars into streaks of light that decorate every darkened surface as I make my way out the way we came in. Presumably, it’s the
only
way in or out until they reset the security.

Garage smog hits me the moment I step foot outside Scion’s air-conditioned interior. I hadn’t noticed before how stuffy it was, or the scents of hot concrete, asphalt, leaked oil, and car exhaust. A wave of nausea rolls through my gut as I look left, then right. I spot Jess’s receding form as she heads down the aisle, walking in too-tall heels that’ll have her in blisters well before she makes it to her car. There’s nobody down here; normally the place would be crawling with vampires that didn’t rate VIP entry and nightclubbers looking to get bitten or laid, but after the lockdown, the police cleared everyone out, including the employees. I can count the number of cars on one hand, and that includes the Zenvo and Asher’s Hummer. Jess’s Honda is parked at the far end, near a white delivery van.

I start forward, immediately wishing I’d taken Xaine up on his offer to lose these infernal shoes. I’m not a girly-girl by any means, and stilettos never were my forte. Still, I’ve got an extra two feet of leg on Jess, and I’m quickly closing the gap between us. Once she’s within shouting distance, I open my mouth to call her name, but then—

Wind chimes.

The soft tinkling of metal on metal stops me in my tracks, sends a hard chill down the column of my spine, and dredges up the very worst of my broken memories. Pressing myself against a concrete pillar, I cast around for the source of the noise. My pulse kicks up a frantic tattoo as panic snakes through me. There’s no one else, but I can still hear it, even over Jess’s shoes and the van door sliding open.

“Back it up,
pendejo
!” Jess yells. “The entire damn place is empty and you gotta crowd me—”

“Here we go, boys.” The voice hits every one of my trauma buttons. My stomach threatens to revolt as everything inside me clenches into a knot of fear. “Looks like we found Declan’s lapdog. Chihuahua by the looks of it.”

Whatever insult she would have hurled next is lost to a sudden, wordless shriek. I duck out far enough to see three men in dark clothes tossing Jess into the back of the van. Two of them jump in after her, the third turns to climb into the driver’s seat, and I get a glimpse of his face—
that face
—the same guy who grabbed me from the record store a year ago. The chains loop from his ears to his nose, dangling with silver charms that still look eerily like teeth. His face is as pale as I remember, and his eyes are as cold. Reflective.

Mirrors into the soul.

Like in a nightmare, I’m frozen in place, unable to move, unable to yell, unable to do anything but listen to the tinkle of wind chimes again as the door slides shut and the engine turns over.

Then
all
the adrenaline pours into my system, and I run for the Zenvo, digging Xaine’s keys out of my pocket. It takes all of two seconds to get the supercar running and thrown into reverse, then I’m tearing out of the structure at top speed, spotting the van’s tail lights as it turns the corner. Left foot hits the clutch, right hand drops the car into third gear, then fourth after I hit the gas. Left hand reaching out to jab at the On-board communication system, and when I bark out “Call Asher Reece” the robotic voice responds with “Dialing G.I. Joe.”

Asher picks up immediately. “What?”

“Hey, it’s Lourdes. I need you to grab Xaine and get in your car. I’m headed east, following a white van. Remember that guy I told you about at the precinct? The one with the teeth?”

“Yeah, but—”

“He’s here. He just kidnapped my roommate.”

There’s a pause then, and I imagine Asher blinking at his handheld. “What the hell, Lourdes, are you
tailing them
?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s Xaine?”

“Somewhere between Reille’s office and the lobby.” But when I think about it a moment longer, I feel compelled to add, “He could be as far as the parking garage.”

“Well, that sure narrows it down,” Asher fires back at me. “Where the hell did you get a car, anyway?”

I wince at that. “I might have sorta stolen the Zenvo.” In response, I only get Asher’s stunned silence. “Are you done asking irrelevant questions? Will you get your ass out here?”

“Car chase in a stick shift.” He’s on the move now, feet hitting the floor at a solid run. “Who do you think you are, Wonder Woman?”

“These are the same guys who kidnapped me last year. We need to stop them before they hurt Jess.” I’ve caught up enough that I actually have to slow down and drop back so they don’t notice the million dollar machine shadowing them. Asher’s yelling Xaine’s name into a space that echoes, the stairwell most likely. There’s an answering shout a few seconds later, then the scuffling of feet.

“C’mon, we’ve got to go,” Asher says.

“Where’s Lore?” is Xaine’s muffled demand, so they must both be in the garage now.

“Chasing a bunch of vamps through downtown.”

“Where the hell is my car?”

“She stole it, apparently, to save her roommate.”

“It’s not technically stealing if he gave me the keys,” I offer as they get in the Humvee and Asher fires up the engine. “And good fucking thing, too—”

“No sense of self-preservation whatsoever,” Xaine mutters.

“I think running away from you was probably the smartest thing she’s done yet,” Asher says.

“Oh, yeah, right into a vampire gang. That’s great. Over a piece of shit, lying roommate who’s been working for the enemy.”

“There has to be a reason.” My hackles rise in Jess’s defense, because I know deep down that she’s a good person; I can feel it, as instinctively as I did with Jax Trace and Asher.

And Xaine.

Two blocks down, the van pulls into a gritty parking lot and cuts the engine. I immediately pull over to the side of the lot and do the same.

“They stopped at a warehouse, corner of Broadway and Seventh.” The lighting down here is sketchy at best, but I can still make out Jess’s form as they pull her from the car, thankfully still kicking. Not screaming, so they must have shoved something in her mouth. Wind chimes again; I can taste bile at the back of my throat as I force myself to unbuckle my seatbelt.

“Stay in the car, Lourdes,” Asher says.

“Get here as fast as you can,” I mutter as the kidnappers drag Jess inside and slam the door shut behind them.

There’s a muffled “put it on speakerphone, shithead” before Xaine’s voice comes through again, loud and clear and pissed. “What the hell, Lore? You’ve got a serial killer stalking you.”

My hand freezes on the door handle, because apparently seeing the guy who tried to kill me a year ago was enough to make me forget all about the guy who’s trying to kill me now. “Remind me to start carrying a gun. I should really carry a gun.”

“Nobody’s giving you a gun,” Asher says. “You’ll shoot your eye out!”

Xaine shouts over him. “You wouldn’t
need
a gun if you hadn’t taken off without me.”

“I wouldn’t have had to take off if you hadn’t ordered Jess out. And, to be fair, this wasn’t supposed to turn into a field trip.” Swallowing hard, I add, “I’m going inside. It’s the gray door right next to the van.”

“Don’t go inside!” both of them yell.

“Get back in the car!” Asher tacks on. “We’re right behind you.”

“I can’t wait,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

I reach out and tap the touchscreen, cutting them both off. Two seconds later, I’m tiptoeing down the street, cursing my shoes and heading for the door. I don’t know what I’m going to do once I’m inside, but I can’t stand out here, helpless, useless…

Especially now that I can hear the sounds of a struggle, Jess’s muffled screams, the muttered warning of “Shut her the hell up.” Sucking in a breath, I ease into the building and keep my back pressed flat against the wall. I’m in a loading area, surrounded by dusty pallets and shelving full of unidentifiable industrial parts. The only light in the room struggles through a row of filthy windows set high up the walls, near the ceiling. I work my way slowly to the source of the noise: a back office, lit up with pale blue halogens. Pausing behind a stack of massive tires, I can make out the open metal cabinets, surgical equipment, hanging transfusion bags. The scents of blood and rubbing alcohol hit me at the same time, and it’s all I can do not to retch.

They’re strapping Jess down, hooking her up, and I watch in sick horror as crimson fluid makes its way toward her, a steady drip of poison that I know is going to burn. Sure enough, the second it hits her vein, the muffled screaming starts again, an echo of my own nightmares.

Before they can activate the second IV, I start shoving at the nearest set of shelves. It’s heavier than expected, so I put my shoulder to it and push hard. As soon as it starts to topple, I sprint down the aisle, ducking behind a pallet loaded with crates and spiderwebs. The shelf and a dozen metal pans hit the floor with an almighty crash, and there’s a flurry of shouts from the office.

“What the fuck—”

“Someone’s out there.”

And a voice…
his
voice says, “Finish the job. I’ll go check.”

Two sets of footsteps, but only one set of wind chimes. There’s the click of a heavy light switch, then another, but nothing happens.

“The wiring in this building is for shit,” he mutters, flicking it over and over again, each one like a gunshot fired off in my head.

A second voice answers. “Yeah, well, we’re not exactly
using
this part of the warehouse, Tiberius.”

The nightmare has a name.

“A pile of shit fell over,” he says. “Now, get back in there and stick her with the other needle—”

But then he—
Tiberius
—stops himself. Turns in a slow circle. Two hands rise up from the darkness and push back the hood of his sweatshirt, exposing the sharply-cut planes of his face to the glow of the streetlights. He tilts his head up ever so slightly, and then smiles.

“I can smell you, love,” he says. “Still wearing that same sweet perfume. Like peaches. Brings back good memories every time I catch a whiff.”

I don’t move. I don’t
breathe
. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. His footfalls are heavy on the concrete floor and I take a moment to reach down, to snap off the spindle heel of one shoe, then the other.

Sorry, Christian…

“Last I heard, you were in a body bag, headed for the incinerator. One more little lost soul.” A clucking noise, almost like he’s amused by this turn of events. “But nothing quite sticks on you, does it? Not even death.”

I’m crouched down, balancing on the balls of my feet, watching as he meanders up the main row like he’s searching for a
Mänsklig Flicka
at Ikea. I don’t have a weapon; all I have is my backup, which may or may not arrive in time. Jess’s muffled screams turn into full-fledged shrieks, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

Someone must have taken out the gag.

“I love that sound.” A soft chuckle. “Do you remember the screaming? I do. Like music to my ears.”

He’s getting closer, homing in on me like a bloodhound. He stops at the last second, turning and squinting into the darkness. I catch the quick flash of a rat as it scurries through the debris, and the animal holds his attention right up to the point where I back into the nearest shelf. A metal tire rim clatters to the floor, and Tiberius’s head snaps around, those eerily-mercurial eyes fixing on my face. No hope that he doesn’t see me, because he peers through the wide shelves and various pieces of metal and junk, then smiles and takes a step forward, crouching down for a better look.

“’Allo, love. Why don’t you come around here and we can have us a little chat?”

Another scream pierces the air, and I clamp down on the metal ledge behind me, drawing in air through flared nostrils because if I open my mouth, I’ll scream too. I don’t speak until I know my voice will be steady, and even then I don’t dare chance more than three words. “Let her go.”

“You don’t get to make demands,” Tiberius says. “You’ve got no leverage.”

“If you let her go. I’ll stay,” I tell him. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” he says, “you’ll do that anyway.”

A sound behind me makes me jump, but before I can pull away, two hands clamp down on my arms from the other side of the shelves. It’s the second guy, the vampire, his stronger-than-ten-men muscle pinning me in place. Tiberius disappears, his stride rapid and heavy as he rounds the corner. Panic envelops me as I wait for the executioner’s axe to fall. Flipping through any and every alternative, I come up with the only one that’s likely to work. Bracing my feet flat upon the floor, I push. Push until the shelf wobbles back, pull forward until it sways, then push again until the whole thing tips, spilling its contents all over my captor. The entire unit follows, falling down and taking me with it. My back hits the metal slats with painful accuracy, and I’m momentarily stunned, air knocked from my lungs. Gasping, I somehow manage to evade the flailing hands that keep making mad grabs for anything within reach.