Authors: Keri Arthur
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy
“Convenient,” Quinn murmured. “But from what I’ve heard about Kattram, he’d be the sort to have closed circuit TV both inside and outside. What did that reveal?”
“A shadowy figure wearing a mask, gloves, and some sort of shoe covering.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Surely not a demon costume?”
Jack half smiled. “No. It was just a black mask and padded clothing, but the idea is the same. If they leave no prints, and you can’t see their face or body shape, it’s hard to make any sort of ID.”
Quinn closed the folder and pushed it back to Jack. “If he
is
behind these murderers for hire, he surely wouldn’t be stupid enough to use his own planes or helicopters.”
“He might if it was an emergency and there was no obvious link back to him. Daskill owns a private jet and helicopter charter service catering to remote areas. The helicopter Harris downed was hired by one Harry Jones—who is not the vamp and who actually doesn’t exist.”
“Charter services these days have to have cameras and facial recognition software installed in their offices, so what did that come up with?”
“Again, nothing. We suspect he might have been a Helki wolf, because the one capture we got of his face showed their distinctive eyes.”
I nodded. If you were going to use fake ID, then what better person to use than someone who could physically alter their human shape? Not so much their size or actual shape, but their physical characteristics. Hair, minor facial shifts, teeth, easy stuff like that. They could also change their eye color, but that apparently took more effort and drained their energy faster. “So what’s the plan? We have no obvious connection to the man, just our suspicions.”
And Jack never moved on suspicions alone. Well, rarely, anyway.
He gave me the sort of smile that a shark might have a heartbeat before he attacked. “Every bad guy makes one mistake. In Daskill’s case, he keeps records.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’d imagine such records would be
extremely
well protected.”
“They are, but we have some of the world’s best hackers in our employ.” He glanced Sal’s way. “Sal, for instance, is a genius at hacking into security-sensitive areas.”
“Which I’ve just completed.” She glanced over her shoulder. “We now control Daskill’s security systems in both his house and his Melbourne office.”
“Excellent. And the computer files?”
“Randy is still downloading. There’s a lot of information, and it’s all coded.” She paused, glancing briefly at the screen and flicking a button. The screen divided into four, each one showing a different section of what looked to be a grand mansion. “Initial investigations on one of the earliest files downloaded indicate intensive records concerning the movements of a man who was found murdered three days after his release from jail. If he isn’t the brains behind this scheme, he’s certainly involved.”
“And that is all we need to go in and get him.” Jack glanced at me. “Daskill has been going home to have lunch with his new wife every day between one and two-thirty—”
“Obviously he doesn’t trust the new missus
not
to take a lover,” I murmured. “Which says a lot about the power of his loving. Or the lack of it.”
Maybe he just fancies his new missus
, Quinn commented, eyes twinkling as he glanced at me.
Hell, when
the
company is fully transferred to Melbourne, expect me to be breaking up a boring day by coming home for a
quick bit of loving quite frequently
.
That’s because you hang out with a werewolf, and the randiness has finally rubbed off
.
“The reason doesn’t matter, just the result,” Jack said. “He has a security force of eight men who rotate on twelve-hour shifts, as well as the cameras.”
“Having eight security guards on standby is a bit of overkill, isn’t it?” Rhoan said, frowning. “Even for a man whose first wife was murdered.”
“They work in teams of four,” Jack said, “which makes the numbers more even. And given he’s either in charge of, or involved with, an organization that runs a stable of some extremely well-trained hit men and women, then no, I wouldn’t think his precautions are over the top.”
“If we move on Daskill, that stable of killers may just melt into the woodwork.”
Jack glanced at me. “He’s the brains and the money behind it, so he’s the one we need to take out first. The others can be found in time.”
Fair enough. “Then what’s the plan?” He obviously had one, because he wouldn’t have called Quinn here otherwise.
“We’re going in at one-thirty. Quinn will take out the guards, as neither myself nor any of the other guardians is able to venture out at that hour.”
Even Quinn was pushing it.
I’ll be fine
, he said.
At worst, it’ll give me a nice tan for our wedding night
.
You’ll be naked on your wedding night. No one is going to care about your tan
.
I’ll be wearing trousers. I may not be quite as old-fashioned as I used to be, but Liander is not going to get the
joy of a full frontal. Not when I’m getting hitched
.
Amusement bubbled through me.
Who said I was talking about the ceremony?
“Riley,” Jack said heavily, “stop mind-talking to Quinn and concentrate on the business at hand.”
“It takes two to talk,” I commented. “And I
am
listening.”
He gave me a disbelieving look, then continued. “You and Rhoan will hit the house once the guards are taken out. He does keep two rottweilers inside, so you’ll have to watch out for those.”
“A good stun gun will fix those quickly enough,” Rhoan said dryly. “But someone this security conscious is going to have standby systems we don’t know about.”
“And a gun by the bed, no doubt,” I said.
“No doubt, so be careful.” Jack was looking at me rather than Rhoan when he said that, which wasn’t exactly fair. Rhoan tended to be more reckless. The only problem was, the bad guys just didn’t seem to enjoy munching on his body as much as they did mine.
Jack opened another folder and passed several sheets of paper to me and Rhoan. “These are the house plans. Memorize the layout while you’re heading down to the armory.”
Rhoan barely even looked at them before standing, but he was good enough at his job that he probably didn’t need more than that. “Which we’d better do now if we want to get to Brighton with sufficient time to spare.”
“Just weapons,” Jack warned. “Don’t grab body armor. If some overwatchful guard spots you before you near the property, we don’t want them suspecting anything is up.”
“The minute we drive up with Directorate plates, any watchful guard is going to know the jig is up,” I commented. “And we have
body
armor? Why was I never told?”
“Which is why we’ll be using false plates. Be down in the parking garage in—” He hesitated and glanced at his watch “—ten minutes. And you’ve never been given body armor because someone who can move with the speed of a vampire rarely has any use for it. It’s for nonguardian personnel, like the cleanup teams.”
He’d obviously forgotten about all the bullet holes I had in my body. “I’ve never seen Cole or his team in them.”
“No, but they have them in their cars.” He glanced at Sal. “Keep me updated on any movements. Quinn and Riley, you’ll need to be fitted with external earpieces, seeing we haven’t the time to fit internals to either of you.”
For which I was extremely glad—and not only because my poor ears were still recovering from the previous ones being hacked out.
Jack rose and headed out the door. I glanced at Quinn. “Do you want a gun, as well?” Jack hadn’t suggested that, but I couldn’t see him objecting.
“I’d rather not.” He touched a hand to my back to guide me out the door, and a warm shiver ran down my spine. But it wasn’t really sexual, more a rightness. A feeling of being protected.
And that was nice.
We headed down to the armory to suit up, and ten minutes later were down in the underground parking lot climbing into unmarked Directorate cars.
The drive to Brighton was quick. Daskill’s house was located in Cosham Street, which, according to those in the know—namely Quinn and Jack—was one of the area’s most sought-after streets.
And that in itself had to be a pointer to the fact that he was making his money via means
other
than the aircraftfor-hire business. The current downturn in the economy meant airlines the world over were suffering from a lack of passengers. Even Quinn’s business had nosedived—but he’d been around long enough to have investments in lots of different arenas. Daskill hadn’t—although if he was behind the murder operation, I guess it could be said that he
had
diversified.
We pulled up several houses away, Jack in an SUV and the rest of us in a black four-door sedan that didn’t look out of place in this neighborhood. The street was lined with old trees and the houses were a mix of old and new. Daskill’s was the latter—a series of big white concrete and glass boxes surrounded by a huge, black concrete fence. Even from where we sat in the car, the security cameras were very noticeable. His wasn’t the only house in the street that had them, either.
Most of the houses were on regular-size lots, but Daskill had obviously bought up the residences to either side of him, because if the sheer length of the fence was anything to go by, there had to be at least an acre of land behind it.
Quinn touched his ear lightly, his expression intense as he listened to Jack speaking through the earpiece. His face held a slight sheen thanks to all the sunscreen he’d lathered on—mine probably did, too. With my skin still so sensitive to sunlight, I thought I’d better start protecting myself. I just had to hope that it didn’t develop into something deadly. The one vampire condition I
didn’t
want was their need to stay out of sunlight. Well, that and the need to drink blood.
I could hear Jack’s voice echoing lightly, but it wasn’t clear enough to understand. A second later, Quinn leaned forward and kissed me. “We’re a go. Jack will contact you when I’ve taken down all the guards.”
I ran my fingers lightly through his silky hair, taking care not to touch any skin and disturb the sunscreen. “Be careful.”
“There are only four of them. Piece of cake.” He smiled and winked, then climbed out of the car.
I leaned forward, watching him stroll casually toward the big black fence. The security cameras were rotating, but away rather than toward him. He glanced around, then with a leap any shifter or wolf would be proud of, disappeared over the fence.
I blew out the breath I’d been holding, and Rhoan glanced at me. “He’ll be fine.”
“I know. The man was a cazador, after all.” And four security guards, however well trained, weren’t going to present much of a problem for a man who spent hundreds of years as a hit man for the vampire council. “It doesn’t stop the worry.”
“Then you know what he goes through every time you walk out the door.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Now, there’s a case of the pot calling the kettle black.”
“I was a guardian when Liander met me. He knew going in what he was getting into.”
“I still worked for the Directorate. I handled the care and feeding of a boatload of vampires. That’s not a riskfree job.”
He raised an eyebrow. “But it doesn’t exactly hold the same level of danger as being a guardian, does it?”
“No.” I drew in a breath and released it slowly. “Which is why I’m talking to Jack once this job is over.”
“Talking to Jack about what?” Jack said, into my ear.
I jumped. The external earpieces were so comfortable, I’d totally forgotten they were in.
“It’s not important right now,” I said. “Have you got any word on Quinn’s progress?”
“Two guards are down, and he’s just tackling the third now.” He paused. “The third one is down.”
“And the last?”
“Inside the main house. We can’t risk trying to draw him out and alerting Daskill, so Rhoan, you slip in through the back and take care of him. Riley, your task is Daskill. He’s upstairs with his wife.”
Great. Just what I need to see—a bad guy having sex. “I’m gathering all security will be down by the time we get to the doors?”
“Sal’s finishing it now. She reverse-coded, so it’ll appear on when it’s off.”
“Give me a few minutes to get around the back,” Rhoan said, his hand on the car door handle. “And be careful.”
“If one more person says that to me,” I said, an edge in my voice, “I’m going to punch them.”
He merely smiled. “We just got you back. Give it a week and we’ll be back to our uncaring selves.”
I snorted and pushed him lightly. “Get out and go. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get back to the real business at hand.”
The amusement fell from his eyes. He knew just what that involved. And, like me, he wasn’t happy about it—
even though it had become a necessity if we were ever to live free of Blake’s shadow.
He touched a hand lightly to my cheek, then opened the door and climbed out. Like Quinn, he disappeared easily and quickly over the wall.
I glanced at my watch and waited a couple of minutes, then grabbed the car keys, climbed out, and locked up. This might be a posh area, but that didn’t mean unlocked cars were any safer.
I shoved my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt and strolled toward the fence. The damn thing towered over me, and, wolf or not, I had trouble just grabbing the top, let alone hauling my ass over the edge.
I
really
needed to work on my upper body strength, I thought, as I landed rather inelegantly on the other side.
The lawns were landscaped and there wasn’t a blade of grass to be seen, but the shiny white rocks clashed nicely with the green and red cordylines and native wild grasses.
My skin crawled with sudden awareness, and I glanced around to see Quinn walking through the shadow provided by the towering fence. Although walking was something of a misnomer—gliding would have been more apt.
Rhoan’s in the house
. He stopped beside me, his gaze on the house.
Daskill and his wife are still upstairs. There
is a second life-form on the ground floor
.